#and must doodle in what little bursts of energy i get

[ann-chovi]

Finished the new Dragon Age and I am obsessed with my Rook and his delightful dwarf wife♡♡♡

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Haikyuu(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count: 5860

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 ��𝙞𝙨𝙩

With your recent addition to Karasuno's volleyball team, you had been trying to catch up on the sport’s basics. You’d watched a few games on TV, but it was hard to stay awake until the end; genuine interest in volleyball still hadn’t really taken root for you.

Most of your time in the gym consisted of supporting Hinata, shielding him from Kageyama’s frustrated outbursts whenever he made a mistake. Usually, you’d spend those hours sitting on the floor, reviewing sheet music or doodling in your notebook. On rare occasions, Hinata would insist on teaching you the basics of serving and receiving, which always ended in laughter and failed attempts to learn.

"So, what exactly do you do in the club?" asked Nayuta, plopping down beside you. Both of you watched Hinata and Kageyama train on the outdoor court under the shade of a large tree. Comfortable in your company, your friend pulled out a couple of candies from her bag, offering one to you without waiting for a reply.

"For now, absolutely nothing," you admitted with a sigh that clearly showed your growing boredom. The past few days had felt like an endless loop of watching the two rookies practice over and over to prepare for Saturday's match against Daichi.

"Is there at least anyone handsome enough to make spending your afternoons there worthwhile?" Nayuta joked, casting a critical look at the scene before biting into a piece of chocolate and offering you another. "Because if that’s the case, maybe I should join too," she added with a wink.

"Is there really any appeal in watching sweaty teenagers run after a ball?" you replied, letting yourself be drawn into the humor of the conversation while savoring the chocolate.

"Try to think of them like puppies," she suggested, straightening up to adjust her jacket. Her laughter grew louder as she watched Hinata doing everything he could to retrieve the ball, which had gotten stuck in one of the tree branches. Both of you burst into laughter when, after much effort, the boy finally managed to get it down, only for Kageyama to throw the ball at him as he turned around, accidentally hitting him in the face.

"See?" Nayuta remarked, stifling her laughter. "Just like clumsy puppies.”

You both spent a while lost in your own little bubble, chatting about boys, sharing gossip, and trading funny stories from your former schools. When the alarm on Nayuta's watch went off, you both snapped back to reality. "Wow, I have to get back home," Nayuta sighed as she stood up, brushing dirt off her skirt and tucking a few dark strands of hair behind her ear before picking up her bag.

"Alright, I’m off. Are you staying a bit longer, or do you want me to walk you out?" she offered with a smile. You thanked her but shook your head; Hinata had asked you to wait for him that day so you could walk home together.

You said goodbye to Nayuta, and once she left, you walked over to where Hinata and Kageyama were still practicing with boundless energy. "Hinata, it’s getting dark. Don’t you think it’s time to go?" you commented, using your fingers to tidy up a bit of your messy hair and adjusting the Pochacco hair clip you wore.

"Just one more time!" Hinata replied, his focus entirely on the ball Kageyama had just tossed to him. Just as the redhead was about to receive it, a hand extended over his head and caught the ball in mid-air.

Both of them turned around, surprised, to see two students who looked like they were first or second years. One of them was impressively tall, even taller than Kageyama.

"So here you were, training outside... you must be the first-years who caused trouble on the first day," the blonde boy commented confidently as he held the ball.

"Give it back!" demanded Hinata, stretching to reach it, but the blonde easily raised his arm, making it nearly impossible for the short redhead to get to it.

"Little kids should go home," the blonde said with a mocking smile, as if the three of them were little more than a joke. Visibly angered, Hinata clenched his fists and raised his voice.

"And who do you think you are?" Hinata retorted, annoyed by the newcomers' attitude.

"They’re the other first-years who joined the team," Kageyama commented, not hiding his irritation as he stared at them.

"First-years?" you couldn't help but exclaim, observing in astonishment the height of both boys. Your gaze lingered on the blonde, who was especially tall. "But... they’re so tall…" you murmured, more to yourself than to anyone else.

Kageyama, challenging the two newcomers with his gaze, asked directly, "How tall are you?"

"Tsukki is 1.88 meters," the freckled boy accompanying the blonde chimed in, speaking with evident enthusiasm. "And soon, he'll be 1.90 meters."

"Tsukki?" You wondered if that was a nickname since the blonde didn’t seem like someone with such a sweet-sounding name.

"Why are you bragging, Yamaguchi?" grumbled the blonde boy—apparently Tsukki—with a tone that revealed a mix of annoyance and resignation, as if this situation repeated itself often.

"Sorry, Tsukki," murmured the freckled boy, lowering his gaze. There was something endearing about his attitude that made you smile; he seemed genuinely friendly.

"You're Kageyama from Kitagawa Daiichi, right?" continued the blonde boy, momentarily ignoring his friend. "What’s someone like you doing at Karasuno?" His tone had a hint of mockery, but it also made it clear that Kageyama was known. You wondered how famous or talented he must be for everyone to know his name.

Hinata, unable to stand being ignored, raised his voice again, interrupting the conversation. "Hey, we’re not going to lose on Saturday! Got that?" His determination was admirable, though it seemed the blonde didn’t share his enthusiasm.

Tsukki, as his friend called him, cast a scrutinizing glance at Hinata before speaking, his tone filled with indifference. "I see. Maybe it’s important to you guys, but I couldn’t care less. Winning or losing doesn’t matter to me, so if you need it, I could… hold back," he commented nonchalantly, spinning the ball in his hands.

Hold back? Who did this guy think he was? You were surprised by his attitude, and apparently, you weren’t the only one.

"Whether you hold back or not, I’ll beat you anyway," replied Kageyama, looking at him with a coldness that conveyed his challenge.

"Say it in plural!" corrected Hinata, furious at the way Kageyama took all the responsibility solely for himself. Hinata’s response provoked a slight, sardonic laugh from Tsukki.

"Such confidence… no wonder they call you the King," the blonde scoffed, his words laced with an evident venom that didn’t go unnoticed.

The mention of the nickname made Kageyama’s expression harden. "Don’t call me that," he muttered, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and contained shame.

You were briefly distracted from the confrontation when you felt a gaze fixed on you. Turning, you noticed it was Yamaguchi, who was watching his friend and then you, as if evaluating the situation. Realizing you’d noticed him, he quickly looked away, turning his attention back to Tsukki and Kageyama.

The tension reached a critical point when Kageyama, with a scowl, grabbed Tsukki by the collar of his shirt, his eyes filled with hatred and defiance. Watching the scene, you felt it was time to step in before things got out of hand.

"Alright, that’s enough," you interrupted firmly, approaching Kageyama. You looked at him seriously, and your eyes met his, which slowly softened before he looked away from Tsukki. Finally, he let go and stepped back, still clearly upset.

“Let’s go,” said Kageyama, addressing you and Hinata, who nodded without saying a word. As you gathered your things and turned to leave, you looked back at Tsukki one last time. He was taller than you had initially noticed, and you had to look up to meet his eyes. You gave him a disapproving look before following your teammates.

“Are you going to run away? Seems like the King isn’t so important after all,” Tsukki commented provocatively, showing no limits to his boldness. His comment drew a threatening look from both you and Hinata, but he simply ignored the reaction. “Maybe I’ll beat you this Saturday,” he added casually, tossing the ball into the air once more. It was the chance Hinata had been waiting for; he sprang forward and caught the ball mid-air.

“Enough with the ‘King’ thing,” Hinata replied in an unusually serious tone. “I’m here too, and on Saturday, I’m going to spike right over you,” he promised, Defending Kageyama for the first time. It seemed the redhead was determined to face him, though a bit of nervousness made him step back slightly under the blonde’s challenging gaze. “W-what, you want to fight?”

Tsukki let out a snort, this time with a more neutral than sarcastic tone. “It’s not that serious,” he replied. “It’s just a club. Let’s have some fun.”

"It's not just a club!" Hinata replied.

“It is what it is,” the blonde said, shrugging and starting to walk away with his friend. However, he stopped when Hinata asked their names.

“Kei Tsukishima, class 1-4,” he finally responded.

“And I’m Tadashi Yamaguchi,” added his companion, introducing himself with a shy smile and a kind voice.

Tsukishima looked at Kageyama and then at Hinata. “From today, we’re teammates, but until Saturday… we’re rivals. I’m looking forward to seeing those famous ‘King’ sets.” With that, he turned around and started walking away, while Yamaguchi kindly said goodbye with a “See you.”

Before Hinata could respond, you grabbed him by the collar, dragging him in the opposite direction. “Enough, it’s time to go,” you insisted, tired of the confrontation and anticipating the scolding you might get if you were late. Ignoring Hinata’s complaints, you started walking at a brisk pace, noticing that Kageyama was silently following you as well.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and, in a firm tone, told him, “And you… I want you to crush them on Saturday.” The intensity of your words seemed to surprise him; his gaze met yours, and after a moment of reflection, he nodded with renewed determination. Without another word, he looked ahead, a new spark in his eyes, ready to face the challenge.

“Ahhh,” you yawned as you snuggled deeper into the softness of your sheets. You sank into the comfort of your bed, enjoying the luxury of sleeping in. But suddenly, something clicked in your mind. Wait a minute… it’s Saturday! The match!

You jumped up, tossing the sheets aside, and rushed to get dressed. You picked out a pink athletic outfit, the one your mom had bought you when you told her you’d joined the volleyball club.

You raced down the stairs, ready to dash out the door toward the school. However, just as you were crossing the doorway, you felt a tug on your bag that made you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you saw your dad, who was looking at you with a mischievous smile while he let go of your bag and ruffled your hair affectionately.

“And where do you think you’re going so early on a Saturday?” he asked, the smile never leaving his face.

“Dad, I have practice,” you lied, since you barely even touched the ball when you were at the gym. You glanced at the clock out of the corner of your eye, feeling the time slip away.

“Since when are you interested in sports?” he asked, watching you curiously. “You never play with me.”

“Because you don’t play either,” you replied impatiently, still keeping an eye on the clock. “Can I go now? I’m going to be late!”

He nodded with a resigned smile and, with a finger on your chest, added in a protective tone, “Be careful. And don’t let those kids bother you. If anyone crosses the line, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Yes, yes, bye!” you shouted, running down the street to get to school as quickly as possible.

When you reached the doors of the gym, you paused for a moment to catch your breath. You had run almost the entire way, and the wind had left your hair a mess. After quickly fixing it, you walked into the gym and noticed the game had already started. You went over to Sugawara, who greeted you with a warm smile. You looked at the scoreboard: Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s team was leading by 16 points over Hinata and Kageyama’s team. It made you frown a little, though you were glad you’d made it in time for the first set.

“Y/N! Hi, I thought you weren’t going to make it,” Sugawara greeted you enthusiastically when he noticed you’d arrived. He looked at your athletic outfit and smiled, “Nice outfit.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you were sure you’d turned as red as a tomato. “T-Thanks,” you stammered, trying to calm yourself. It’s just a compliment, you reminded yourself. People give compliments all the time.

You both turned your attention back to the game as the whistle sounded for the next serve. It was Daichi’s turn, and he made a flawless serve. Kageyama prepared to set the ball perfectly to Hinata, and the redhead, with determination, hit the ball hard, managing to dodge Tsukishima’s block.

“Well done!” you shouted excitedly, unable to contain yourself. Hinata’s eyes lit up when he saw you, and for a brief moment, you noticed something different in Kageyama’s usually cold expression. Happiness? Satisfaction? You weren’t sure, but it seemed like he was sharing the same excitement.

“Y/N!” Hinata exclaimed, raising his hand proudly. “It touched my hand! I can’t believe it!” He stared at his hand in amazement, as if the contact with the ball had been something almost miraculous. Then, he motioned for you to take a closer look at his hand.

You laughed, caught up in his enthusiasm, and nodded. “You’re doing it, Hinata! Keep it up.”

Soon, everyone in the gym realized something incredible: Hinata hadn’t actually seen the ball when he made that impressive spike; he had placed complete trust in Kageyama, who had set the ball with amazing precision, right into his hand. Though they tried to replicate that move several times, they couldn’t quite achieve the same perfection, leaving everyone wondering if it had been a coincidence or just a lucky strike. The score was now 15 to 22; they were still behind, but the team spirit remained high.

You approached Hinata, who was rubbing the side of his face after getting hit by the ball again. You laughed a little at his embarrassed expression, especially when Kiyoko came over to check if he was okay, making him noticeably nervous.

“What’s so funny?” protested Hinata, flustered with a blush on his cheeks. “That’s the second time it’s hit me in the face!” He turned to Kageyama, frowning. “Did you do it on purpose? We’re on the same team, you know!” But Kageyama just ignored him, returning to his position without a word.

The whistle blew again, and both teams readied themselves. Yamaguchi took his position to serve, and Tanaka received the ball smoothly, passing it quickly to Kageyama. With quick and calculated movements, Kageyama prepared to set it up for Hinata. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi anticipated the move and readied themselves to block, but Hinata, agile and strategic, moved to the open side of the court just before the ball reached him. Bam! Another clean, successful spike.

Now they were in the second set, and the score was tied. You glanced over at Tsukishima, who seemed to be losing patience with his opponents' performance. When he noticed your gaze, you lifted your chin proudly and gave him your best “how do you like that?” expression. Tsukishima merely rolled his eyes in response, while Yamaguchi, noticing the exchange, let out a quiet laugh.

“Well done!” you praised Kageyama and Hinata after they managed to pull off their impressive spike once again, which they were starting to master. Sugawara, Ennoshita, and Kinoshita exchanged smiles, clearly inspired by your enthusiasm and competitive spirit.

Sugawara ruffled your hair affectionately. “You’re quite competitive,” he commented with a kind smile.

The score had moved forward, now 21 for Kageyama’s team and 25 for Tsukishima’s. Both teams looked visibly exhausted.

You went over to Hinata and Kageyama, giving Hinata a friendly pat on the back. He smiled when he saw you. “Y/N, did you see that? I’m amazing!” he exclaimed, overflowing with energy, hands on his hips and chest puffed out proudly.

“You’re getting better,” you congratulated him, handing him a water bottle. Hinata accepted it happily and took a drink, satisfied. Then, you turned to Kageyama. “Kageyama, well done.”

The dark-haired boy looked slightly surprised by your compliment, his gaze drifting away for a moment, avoiding direct eye contact. His response came in an almost inaudible murmur. “Thanks.”

He turned his back to you and Hinata, seeming nervous—a subtle shift in his posture that didn’t escape your notice.

“What’s up with you, Kageyama? What’s wrong?” Hinata asked with a mischievous smile, noticing his sudden reaction. Hinata’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he observed his teammate’s reddening ears. “Did you get nervous? Aw, can’t handle a compliment from a girl?” he teased, throwing an arm around your shoulders and giving you a playful look.

“Shut up!” growled Kageyama, but his tone lacked its usual authority. He still wouldn’t turn around, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

Suddenly, Hinata’s attention shifted to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who were on their side of the court. With a quick gesture, he linked his arm with yours and pulled you toward them. “Kageyama, come on,” Hinata called, signaling for them to follow. “Tsukishima,” he continued determinedly, calling out to the tall, blond boy with glasses. He extended his hand toward him.

“What?” Tsukishima asked, looking at Hinata’s outstretched hand with evident confusion.

“We should shake hands before and after the match, even though we didn’t do it before,” Hinata explained, his tone a bit more serious but still carrying his characteristic positive energy. “Besides, we’re teammates now, even if I’m not too happy about it.”

Tsukishima didn’t seem too convinced by the idea. He stood rigid, his gaze drifting away, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion.

“Come on, didn’t you know?” Hinata insisted, glancing behind him at Daichi, who was talking with Sugawara and Tanaka. “They’ll kick you off if you don’t have team spirit,” he added, waving his hand in front of Tsukishima like it was the answer to all his problems.

Tsukishima didn’t make a single move. “The reason they were kicked out was because they disobeyed the captain,” he explained in an annoyed tone, his gaze fixed on the three of you. “You guys started arguing and pulled the vice principal’s toupee off.” He cast a judgmental look at the three of you, as if your behavior had been completely out of place—and it was.

“F-forget those details,” Hinata retorted, biting his lip to keep calm while trying to maintain his composure. “Just shake my hand!” This was his final attempt before lunging at Tsukishima, though it was clear it wouldn’t be that easy.

Hinata tried to grab the blond’s hand, but Tsukishima, quicker and more agile, kept dodging from side to side to avoid the contact. The scene turned into a comedic spectacle, with Hinata chasing Tsukishima around while you and Kageyama watched without much interest.

“Y/N, help me!” Hinata shouted, visibly frustrated at not being able to accomplish his goal.

“Tsk, no way,” you replied, crossing your arms with an amused smile. You couldn’t help but enjoy the absurdity of the situation. Kageyama, for his part, simply observed the ridiculous spectacle without moving.

Finally, Hinata achieved the impossible: he managed to shake Tsukishima’s hand. The victory was fleeting, however, as Tsukishima looked at him with an expression of pure disgust, as if he’d just touched something completely unhygienic.

“Are you okay, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked, a mix of concern and horror on his face as he observed his friend’s reaction. Tsukishima didn’t reply, but his expression said it all, showing a blend of disdain and revulsion from having touched Hinata’s hand.

“Tsukishima!” Daichi’s firm voice interrupted the scene. The captain approached to speak privately with the blond, and you decided to take a few steps back, giving them space.

Meanwhile, Hinata and Kageyama pulled out a couple of crumpled papers from their pockets. “Captain!” Hinata exclaimed, holding both forms out to Daichi, who examined them closely. A slight jolt of panic hit you—was there something you were supposed to submit as well? You didn’t remember turning in anything like that.

“Shimizu!” Daichi called to the team manager, holding the forms in his hand. “The stuff arrived, right?” he asked, and Kiyoko nodded with a small smile.

“What stuff?” Hinata asked, visibly intrigued. Kiyoko approached, carrying a large box, which she carefully placed on the ground and opened. Inside, perfectly folded and ready to wear, were the Karasuno volleyball team jackets. Hinata let out a gasp of amazement and picked up a jacket, looking at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“They should fit well,” Kiyoko commented as the new team members looked at their jackets with admiration. “But let me know if you need any adjustments,” she added before picking up the box and stepping away.

Tanaka, Sugawara, and you looked at the four new members in awe. “Oh, it looks great on you,” Sugawara complimented Hinata as he donned the jacket and showed it off proudly, as if wearing it was an honor in itself.

Daichi took a step forward, his voice filled with emotion. “From now on, we’re the Karasuno volleyball team,” he announced, his words brimming with pride. Then, with a quick countdown, all the team members shouted in unison, “Welcome!”

“Thank you!” the new members replied.

Hinata and Kageyama returned to the court, as energetic as ever. It seemed impossible that those two would ever tire. You looked around and noticed everyone was deep in conversation, forming lively little groups. You sighed and, feeling a small pang of loneliness, sat in a corner not too far from the others and turned on your PSP, seeking distraction.

It didn’t take long before a shadow fell over you, interrupting your game. You frowned, thinking it was Hinata again. “Now what…?” you muttered, looking up in mild annoyance, ready to face the redhead’s hyperactivity. But instead of Hinata, you found yourself looking at the imposing figure of Tsukishima, who eyed you with his typical critical expression and those honey-colored eyes that seemed to scrutinize every detail.

“Do you need something?” you asked, surprised by his presence but keeping your composure.

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, maintaining that air of superiority as he rested his hands on his hips. “What exactly are you doing here?” he asked, not bothering to soften his tone.

You blinked, slightly taken aback. Right, you hadn’t had the chance to formally introduce yourself. “I’m the assistant coach,” you answered with a slight shrug, trying to sound casual.

“We don’t have a coach,” Tsukishima replied, raising an eyebrow again and leaning down a bit to get a better look at you. “Do you even know how to play, or are you just here to babysit the carrot-top?”

You scowled, resisting the urge to let his tone get to you. “Of course, I know how to play, b-but I’m not very good,” you admitted, standing your ground. “And, by the way, don’t call Hinata that.”

Tsukishima barely smirked, a sarcastic smile reflecting his usual provocative attitude. “Then prove it,” he challenged suddenly, not breaking eye contact.

“Prove what?” You looked at him, puzzled.

“That you know how to play,” he replied, crossing his arms with a defiant air. “Unless you want to take back your claim.”

The challenge in his eyes was evident, and you had no intention of backing down. You felt Yamaguchi watching with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, probably hoping the situation wouldn't escalate. Still, you didn't retreat. "Alright," you said with determination, "if that's what it takes to convince you."

Tsukishima stepped back a couple of paces, his lips curving into a nearly satisfied smile. Yamaguchi, who was still close by, gave you a friendlier smile and offered some encouraging words. "You don't have to do it. Tsukki sometimes just enjoys teasing," he said apologetically, trying to soften the challenge his friend had issued.

With a slight smile, you nodded to Yamaguchi before walking to the center of the court and picking up one of the balls lying on the ground. "It's fine," you replied, feeling a mix of nerves and determination as you prepared yourself.

"Make a serve. I'll receive it," called Tsukishima from a safe distance, his voice tinged with a mocking tone. "If you can, of course," he added, with a challenging smile.

You took a deep breath, trying not to let the pressure get to you. Come on, Y/N, you can do this, you reminded yourself. After all, Hinata had taught you some basic moves, and you'd practiced enough to trust in a solid serve.

You weighed the ball in your hands, tossing it into the air a few times as you gathered momentum. With a sigh, you went for a low serve, focusing on directing the ball with strength and precision towards Tsukishima. But just as the ball sailed across the court, the gym door burst open, drawing everyone's attention, including Tsukishima’s.

The impact was inevitable: the ball hit Tsukishima square in the face, who, surprised and with no time to react, fell to the ground from the force of the hit. A dull sound echoed in the gym, followed by a collective gasp of surprise.

"Tsukki!" exclaimed Yamaguchi, visibly worried, running over to his friend to make sure he was okay.

“Oh no…” you whispered, bringing your hands to your mouth as you took in the scene. "Shit!" you added, unable to hold back your reaction.

"Are you... are you alright?" You quickly approached Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, your voice rushed and filled with concern as you looked at the reddish mark on his cheek where the ball had hit. Tsukishima scowled, rubbing the side of his face, which still seemed sore from the blow. You tried not to laugh, although the scene was somewhat amusing in retrospect.

Noticing his glasses lying nearby, you hurried to pick them up. "Here you go," you murmured, quickly wiping the lenses with the edge of your sweatshirt. Then you knelt beside him and gently placed them back on the bridge of his nose. However, the glasses weren’t quite aligned, slipping slightly and giving him an unexpectedly adorable look.

"Sorry... really. I didn't mean to, you know..." you murmured, trying to sound sincere. Still, you couldn’t deny that a small part of you found some satisfaction in the incident, though, of course, you weren’t about to admit it aloud.

Tsukishima snorted, crossing his arms and regaining his usual air of superiority. "You could start by improving your aim if you actually know how to play," he commented, his tone dry, though not without a hint of irony.

You tried to lighten the moment with a smile. "Well, at least it was a strong serve," you joked, though Tsukishima didn’t seem to find it funny; instead, he frowned, crossing his arms.

"It was a pathetic serve," he replied coldly, looking at you as if you were entirely responsible for the situation.

"Not my fault you couldn’t receive a beginner’s serve," you defended yourself firmly. "Why were you distracted?"

"And you were distracted too," Tsukishima retorted, his tone no less challenging.

"Guys, guys, come on, it was just an accident," Yamaguchi interjected with a nervous smile, trying to mediate in the argument.

Tsukishima, however, cut him off immediately. "Shut up, Yamaguchi."

"Hey, don’t tell him to shut up!" you protested, shooting Tsukishima a reproachful look. There was something in his arrogant attitude that pushed you to challenge him, and you weren’t about to let him belittle his own friend.

Before Tsukishima could respond, Tanaka called out to the three of you from the other side of the court. "Hey, you three, come here!" His voice had its usual energy, and when you turned, you realized that the rest of the team had already gathered around Takeda-sensei, who was waiting to give instructions.

"We’ll have a match after classes," Takeda-sensei explained calmly, waiting for everyone to pay attention. "It'll be after school, so there’s only one game. We'll rent a bus for transportation, so don’t be late. Understood?" The players nodded in unison, and the excitement among the new members was palpable.

After practice ended, you packed up your things and made sure to leave the gym in order along with the others. With your bag slung over your shoulder, you walked home leisurely, enjoying the cool evening air.

As you reached your front door, you began searching your pocket for the keys, when you heard a familiar voice.

"Hi!" It was Hinata, who was passing by quickly on his bike, greeting you with a big smile. "Bye!" he shouted as he disappeared down the street, his energy as contagious as ever. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head.

“Where the hell is he!?” Nayuta growled, pacing back and forth in front of your desk in the classroom. You had never seen her this angry before, and her footsteps echoed with a frantic rhythm. The three of you were supposed to split the science project to make it easier: each person would do a part, and then you would all put it together at school. But now, the only part missing was Hinata’s, and the redhead still hadn’t shown up.

“I swear to God, if he doesn’t show up, I…” Nayuta left the threat unfinished, but her hands, clenched as if trying to crush something, made the message clear. The frustration on her face made you bite back a smile; it wasn’t wise to joke around in this moment.

“Come on, Yuyu, maybe he just didn’t have time to do it,” you tried to smooth things over, hoping to calm her down. However, Nayuta shot you a look as sharp as her feline eyes, clearly unconvinced.

“Don’t justify him, Y/N,” she snapped, pointing her finger accusingly at you before returning to check her phone for the fifth time. “This is exactly why we shouldn’t trust short people,” she sighed in exasperation, as if she had just uncovered the root of all the problems.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing. Her logic was absurd, considering that Nayuta was the same height as Hinata. However, you decided to let the comment slide and shift tactics.

“What if we go look for him?” you suggested. “Maybe something came up, and he needs help.”

“Where do you think that restless butt is?” Nayuta asked, crossing her arms and looking at you skeptically.

“Well, maybe in the gym…” you started to say, but then remembered something. You had overheard some of the guys talking about using the club room to change and leave their things. “I think I know where they might be.”

You stood up and grabbed Nayuta’s hand, guiding her purposefully through the hallways. As you walked through the school, the familiarity of the surroundings made Nayuta relax her grip slightly, though she remained on edge.

Eventually, you spotted a small building with several rooms inside. “Are first-year students allowed to be here?” Nayuta asked, giving you a concerned look while holding your hand a bit tighter.

“I think so. Plus, we’re just going to talk to Hinata; it’ll only be a minute,” you reassured her with a smile. You started climbing the stairs to the second floor, and Nayuta followed closely behind.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Nayuta murmured, her eyes scanning the identical doors along the hallway.

Without hesitation, you knocked on the door and called softly, “Hinata? Are you in there?”

Immediately, there was a commotion behind the door, and above everything, you heard the voice of the redhead exclaiming, “Ah, it’s her!” His words were accompanied by the sounds of things falling and hurried footsteps. It seemed like he was clinging to the shelf, as if preparing for a battle. Tanaka, with disbelief in his tone, chimed in. “What’s wrong with you, man? It’s just Y/N.”

“It’s not Y/N… it’s Nayuta…” Hinata murmured, unaware that his words were heard on the other side.

Nayuta’s expression hardened, and before you could stop her, she called out firmly, “Come out already, Shoyo! We can hear you perfectly. Stop being a coward.” Her threatening tone hinted that her patience was quickly running out. She was on the verge of completely losing her cool when, instinctively, you covered her mouth with your hand, trying to keep the situation from escalating.

"Eh… what Nayuta meant," you let out a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension, "is that we just want to discuss the science project. It's nothing serious, I promise." You tried to sound as calm and friendly as possible, hoping that would help calm the redhead down.

On the other side of the door, you heard Hinata's desperate mumbling. “Kageyama, go out and tell them I’m not here!”

“Not a chance. If you want to dodge them, do it yourself,” came Kageyama’s reply, as he put on his sports jacket with a resigned expression.

After a few tense seconds of waiting, the door finally opened, and Hinata shot out like a bolt of lightning, one hand clutching his stomach and his face filled with panic. Before you could react, Nayuta tried to rush after him, clearly intent on making him pay for being late.

“Let me go so I can give him a lesson!” she growled, trying to free herself from your grip. You held her firmly around the waist, doing your best to contain her outburst.

“Come on, Yuyu,” you whispered in a conciliatory tone, though you struggled to hold back a laugh at her determination. “We’re friends; we have to get along... and love each other, right?” Even though you said it as calmly as you could, the strength Nayuta was putting up made it a challenge to keep her still.

“It’ll just be a little smack!” she insisted, her voice full of indignation. Nayuta’s dark hair swung, brushing against your face and partially blocking your vision. Amidst nervous laughter and struggling, you both turned around, and your eyes fell on the partially open door in front of you.

Then, both of you froze.

The sound of laughter and murmurs disappeared as you saw, to your surprise and horror, that the club room was occupied by several of the guys from the team… at various stages of changing clothes. Daichi, with his back to you, shirtless and looking incredulous, turned around upon seeing you. Tanaka, equally surprised, was in the middle of pulling up his pants, freezing when he noticed your presence.

Almost instinctively, you covered Nayuta’s eyes while quickly closing your own, taking a few awkward steps back. “Sorry!” you managed to exclaim, your voice breaking with nerves and embarrassment. Nayuta, still frozen in place, stopped resisting, and between murmurs and apologies, both of you stepped away from the door with your faces completely flushed.

As you backed away with hurried apologies, you heard the guys’ restrained laughter, along with a “Next time, knock!” said amid chuckles. Finally, you managed to exit the building, exchanging surprised and embarrassed glances that quickly turned into laughter.

[koiyan-hades-kid-with-a-system]

Camp/Underworld Quotes #5

Koiyan, running the Blood Bank and cooking for the Dionysus kids: Why am I mothering kids that are not my own head-mates?

Shadow, from the headspace: Mommy issues.

Koiyan: Gods damn it why must you be right Shadow-

-

Zagreus: Are you drinking enough water?

Koiyan: Sometimes my tears get in my mouth.

Zagreus: Nope, we're going to the fountain chambers and make you drink actual water.

-

Cyrilla: All the sudden I got a random burst of energy, and I think it's my body's last hurrah before it completely shuts down.

-

Koiyan: Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot.

-

Cyrilla: If I die, you can have what little I own.

Koiyan: Wait. What do you mean "if" you die?

Cyrilla: My unending existence is fuelled by pure spite, that of which the painful experiences of life have rendered me full.

Koiyan:

Koiyan: *Sighs* Let me call your therapist again.

(Honestly it could be flipped as well)

-

Koiyan, having just switched back to front for the first time in months: Onion rings are vegetable donuts.

Cyrilla, used to Koiyan being dumb after switching: Sure...

Koiyan: Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed.

Cyrilla: Okay?

Koiyan: Lasagna is spaghetti flavored cake.

Cyrilla:

Koiyan: Lobsters are mermaid scorpio-

Cyrilla: Jesus, that one is a little-

Cory, interested: No, no, Koiyan, keep going.

-

Zagreus: You spent all our money on THIS??

Koiyan, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

Zagreus: Lucifer is fronting isn't he?

Koiyan: Yes.

-

Koiyan: I told Thanatos that their ears turn red when they lie.

Cyrilla: Do they?

Koiyan: No.

Cyrilla: Then why did you tell them that?

Koiyan: Because I can do this.

Koiyan: Hey Thanatos! Do you love us?

Thanatos, with their hands over their ears: No.

-

Zagreus, coming in late: Sorry I was late, I was doing stuff.

Thanatos: I was stuff.

-

Koiyan, Zagreus, and Cory: What’s up? I’m back.

Cyrilla: I literally saw you die. You died. You were dead

Revival trio: Death is a social construct.

-

Cyrilla, holding up their class notes: And then this doodle of a burrito because when I first read Aristotle, I thought it was pronounced like “Chipotle”.

Cyrilla, in shock: Wait a minute, is it “Chip-o-tottle”?

-

Koiyan: Slash gamemode creative.

Cyrilla: Dude, this isn't Min-

Koiyan: *starts levitating*

[makerofmadness]

special thanks goes to @umbrarkzoo​ ‘cus them drawing my incorrect quotes just makes me want to make more

Toy Bonnie: Can you pass the salt? Bonnie: Can you pass away? Toy Bonnie: Too much salt.

-

Roxy: You use emoji’s like a straight person. Monty: That’s literally the worst thing anyone has ever said about me.

-

Glamrock Freddy (talking about Gregory): Baby vibes... hold gentle... like hamburger. Vanessa (also talking about Gregory): Punt like football

-

Bonnie: Cassidy, no. Golden Freddy: Cassidy, yes.

-

The Puppet: Ha! Don't you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper? The Puppet: I must be losing it, I'm quoting Golden Freddy.

-

Michael Afton: *Locks Crying Child in the car.* Act like a child, get treated like a child. Crying Child: What? Isn't it illegal to leave a child locked in a car?

-

Happy Frog: When life gives you lemonades, make lemons! Life will be all like "whaAttT?" Nedd Bear: Life lessons that schools can't teach you.

-

William Afton: I think it's time to start fucking some shit up. Henry Emily: Oh no. William Afton: More like "oh yes!"

-

Moon: I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly. Gregory: Why not? Moon: Because I don't know what they mean.

-

Sun: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. Roxy: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back... Gregory: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. Vanessa: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years. Glamrock Chica: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. Monty: Mental stability, my old friend! Sun: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

-

Ballora: Breathe, just breathe. Michael Afton: I’ve done nothing with my life! I’m a failure! Funtime Freddy: Awww, that never bothered you before.

-

Henry Emily: We all have our demons. Henry Emily, grabbing William Afton: This one’s mine.

-

Freddy: Any questions? Chica: Uh, yeah, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? Freddy: Uh, a plan, duh... Bonnie: Chica, chill, I know it’s weird, but Freddy has a point. Chica: Chica: THAT WAS LITERALLY A PONY DOODLE WITH A HAT!!

-

Michael Afton: Could you be any more annoying? Minireenas: Yes.

-

William Afton: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go. Henry Emily: Those are wanted posters!

-

Toy Freddy: Let me copy your homework. Toy Bonnie: I was gonna copy yours. Toy Freddy: Well, shit. Toy Bonnie: Guess I'm not doing it.

-

William Afton: You might not know this, Henry, but I am a flawed person. Henry Emily: I do know that.

-

Bonnie: You know, Puppet, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. The Puppet: ... The Puppet: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

-

Circus Baby: I need you to come meet me, and I need you to come alone. Michael Afton: And I need you to be less vague and weird.

-

Foxy: You're a lying piece of shit! Bonnie: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD! Foxy: I'm leaving and I'm taking Balloon Boy with me! Freddy, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

-

Funtime Freddy: Good morning! Michael Afton: Is it? Is it really?

-

Gregory Sometimes I drink milk straight from the container. Monty: The cow?? Glamrock Chica: What? Roxy: Monty, W H Y?

-

Bonnie: Puppet, I know you love Golden Freddy. I mean, we all do, they’re a very nice person and I respect them immensely. Bonnie: But I think they might be a fucking idiot.

-

Michael Afton: All the sudden I got a random burst of energy, and I think it's my body's last hurrah before it completely shuts down.

-

Michael Afton, looking at his reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Helpy: Well, that's you. Michael Afton: Me?! Is that what I look like? Helpy You don't know? Michael Afton: Busy day.

-

Helpy: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

-

William Afton: Enough! How dare you mock me in such a manner!? Pigpatch: Well. How would you like me to mock you? I take requests.

-

Glamrock Freddy: What makes you all smile? Monty: Friends and Family. Glamrock Chica: Snacks. Roxy: Victory and success. Vanessa: Face muscles.

-

Daycare Attendant: Swear words are illegal now. If you say one you'll be fined. Gregory: Heck. Daycare Attendant: You're on thin fucking ice. Daycare Attendant: Oh no-

-

William Afton: Henry, my old friend! Henry Emily: I think you tried to kill me at some point. William Afton: That was obviously just my way of getting to know you.

-

Roxy, trying to comfort anyone: What's the problem? Anxiety? Low self-esteem? Obsessive thoughts of random arson? I've been there.

-

Henry Emily: Charlie likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

-

Henry Emily: William... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? William Afton: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Henry Emily: Henry Emily: I wrote sanitize, William.

-

Freddy: You can do it Mike! Freddy: But if you can't, at least your death will be quick, painless, and really cool to watch.

-

Teacher: Your child was in a fight. Glamrock Freddy: Oh no, that’s terrible! Vanessa: Did he win?

(sb’s 3-star ending: the epilogue)

-

Glamrock Chica: It's locked. You got a lock pick? Roxy: Yeah- Monty: *kicks in the door*

-

Freddy: honk. Michael Afton: WHAT. Freddy: HONK. Michael Afton: WHAT DOES HONK MEAN THIS TIME YOU WHIMSICAL PIECE OF SHIT?????

-

Crying Child: What's the worst thing you guys have done? Michael Afton: Rickrolled my teacher in 4th grade. Fritz Smith: I kicked Jeremy in the shin- Jeremy Fitzgerald: -So I kicked Fritz between the legs. Gregory: I burned a town down. Crying Child: What?! Jeremy Fitzgerald: What the hell is wrong with you?!? Gregory: A lot of things. Fritz Smith: No shit.

-

Gregory: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun

-

Orville: I have the sharpest memory here - name one time I forgot something! Nedd Bear: You left me, Pigpatch, and Happy Frog in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago. Orville: I did that on purpose, try again.

-

Orville: Don't ask me what I'm talking about. I don't know, okay? I'm just the vessel. The message has been gifted. I've moved on.

-

Michael Afton: So Baby was just using me? Ballora: I’m sorry, Eggs. Funtime Freddy, trying to contain his amusement: You must feel pretty stupid right now. Michael Afton: Ballora: Ok, that’s a time-out. Funtime Freddy: No, I was just trying to- Ballora: Go sit over there! Funtime Freddy *walks away in defeat*

-

Gregory: What are your three best qualities? Roxy: I’m hot, I have soft hair, and sometimes I cry because I love my friends.

-

Scrap Baby: I'm bored. Scraptrap: Wanna commit first degree murder? Scrap Baby: Sure! Lefty, hearing them: No- Stop, don't do that! Put that knife down! Put Michael down!!

-

Glamrock Freddy: Vanessa, you need to react when people cry! Vanessa: I did. I rolled my eyes.

-

Monty: Do you know that we are made out of atoms? Monty: And atoms never touch each other. Monty: So in my defense, officer. I did not punch this kid.

-

Foxy: What's this? Balloon Boy, hugging Foxy: Affection! Foxy: Disgusting. Foxy: ...Do it again.

-

Circus Baby: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it. Circus Baby: Everything will be fine. You have no choice. Michael Afton: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that? Circus Baby: Ominous positivity.

-

Foxy: I apologize for saying 'fuck' in front of Balloon Boy. Bonnie: You just said it again. Balloon Boy: Foxy: I am not a role model.

-

Pigpatch: Don’t weep for the stupid. You’ll be crying all day.

-

Henry Emily: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. Henry Emily: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

-

Phone Guy: If I die, my funeral will be the biggest party ever and you're all invited. Jeremy Fitzgerald: "If" Fritz Smith: Great, the only party I'm ever invited to and they might not even die.

-

Michael Afton, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVER’S CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

[reki-of-the-valley]

Boy Like a Fading Dream

A part two of the uni AU? More like a "I wanted to characterize the Langa of this AU". Wrote it a couple of days ago but didn't want to back-to-back post, just give a few days for the first part to settle in.

Find it on AO3 here!

Context: For his skills on a snowboard, Langa landed himself a scholarship. But he hates it. He hates his studies. He hates the athletic training. He just wants to go back to the time when it was fun, racing his dad to the bottom of the mountain.

“Where’s dad?”

Langa lets his bag hit the ground with a thud as he kicks off his shoes. His mother is in the living room; she’s cutting carrots in front of some sitcom. She lifts her head to smile at her son as soon as he enters her line of sight.

“How was your day, baby?”

Langa sighs as he crashes next to her. He feels her watch him as he picks up a carrot from the bowl before snapping it in half between his teeth. He feels her gaze, just as heavy as his eyelids are.

“Tiring.”

It’s all he manages to say to her. It’s all he finds to say. Tiring. His days are always just tiring.

“Did you have fun at practice?”

Fun? Langa barely remembers what that feels like. Fun, it feels like a foreign word now. He knows he must have felt it in the past, the thrill of gliding down the snowy slopes, but now it’s anything but fun. Snowboarding isn’t fun anymore, especially when there’s no snow outside. Especially when he’s cooped up in a gym rather than out on the open mountains.

So was training fun? No. No, it wasn’t.

“It was fine,” he lies. He can’t tell his mother how much he hates it. He can’t tell her when it’s what’s paying for his education – an education he also hates. “The usual, you know.”

Nanako pats his arm, her smile sweet and ever so motherly. “That’s good, baby. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Langa sucks in a breath as his mother presses a kiss to his hair. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. If only she knew how big a lie that was. He would have done anything to just quit everything right now and lay in bed for the next ten years. Everything lost its appeal. If only everything could stop just for a moment, just for a minute, just enough time for Langa to catch his breath.

“Dad’s not home yet, is he?”

Nanako shakes her head. “He’s staying late tonight. He has a project that’s due, I think, tomorrow? Something about his team not being up-to-date so he has to stay late.”

Langa sighs again as he straightens out on the couch. He grabs another carrot before getting up to fetch his bag.

“I have to go study.”

Nanako doesn’t say anything as he leaves to climb the stairs that lead to his bedroom. Langa knows she’s watching him, watching his every move, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she can sense his disappointment. Maybe she knows that he’s lying to her.

Langa crashes in his bed, slinging his bag at the end of his mattress where it bounced before falling among the pile of dirty clothes he’s thrown aside. His room is a mess, but he can’t bring himself to clear out his trash. He’s already in a deficit of energy when just doing his mundane daily tasks. So he crashes among his pillows and pulls out his phone.

It's automatic, the swiping left and clicking on the app. It’s become a routine, crashing in bed and opening Instagram to scroll mindlessly. Langa doesn’t actually care for what’s on his screen, he just needs something to do, something to make him forget about the emptiness that’s formed in his chest.

So he scrolls. Pictures of old friends from high school, professional pictures and reels of snowboarders, screenshots of old Tumblr posts, reels of animals being cute, Langa scrolls through them all. He scrolls, scrolls until everything on his phone becomes a big blur. He scrolls until his phone slips from his fingers, falling flat on his face.

Another sigh as he turns to his side. His phone rests against his pillow as he goes back to scrolling. Always scrolling, numbing everything he’s ever felt. Because Langa does feel. He feels a million things, but none of those feelings are good. Frustration, loneliness, exhaustion, the list can go on. He hates all his feelings, especially that hollow feeling of disappointment that has been growing over the past year or so.

A notification pulls Langa out of his mindless scrolling. He usually ignores them, swiping them away, but for some reason, this one catches his attention. For some reason, he clicks it rather than get rid of it. The flash of red catches his attention.

.MechanicStarReki. – Suggested for you

Langa squints at his screen. The name doesn’t ring a bell but the face seems familiar. Familiar, but he can’t pinpoint where exactly it is that he’s seen it. His memory of the familiar face is hazy, like that of a dream starting to fade as morning takes shape. Familiar yet so foreign.

Langa scrolls through the profile, careful to not make his presence known. Most of the captions are in Japanese and he can’t find it in himself to decipher their meaning. He knows with a little effort, and maybe a little help from a translator app or from his mother, he could read the words, but he doesn’t bother. He contents himself with the scarce English. He contents himself with the many pictures of a boy with red hair.

The last post dates back a few weeks, a set of pictures with the caption “See you for Christmas.” The pictures show the redhead hugging who Langa assumes to be his sisters. They all look too much alike for them to not be family. Langa swipes between the pictures, taking in the scene: two school-aged girls cling to the boy, identical in all ways except the color of their dresses. He’s hugging them, a wide grin stretching across his face. Langa swipes again. Another girl is shown in the picture – she must be around 15. She’s pouting, but the sun reflects against the tears that had started to form at the corner of her eyes as she hugs the boy. Her eyes are the same color as his, a deep amber color that Langa knows he’s seen somewhere. He knows he's seen the boy, but he also knows it’s impossible. He can’t have seen him, not with the location associated with the picture: Okinawa, Japan. There’s no way he’s ever seen this boy; Langa’s only been to Japan once, the summer before he started high school.

Langa moves on from the set of pictures. He scrolls down, analyzing everything that has been posted over the years. Skateboards, sketches of various types, doodles, the boy with his friends, more of his family. Langa always pauses on the pictures of him. He always squints at him as if that would help him remember where he’s seen him.

A part of Langa knows that this is obsessive behavior, that he should just let it go, but he needs to know. He needs to know where he’s seen those faded freckles against sun-kissed skin. He needs to know where he’s seen those bright amber eyes. He needs to know where he’s seen that lopsided grin. He needs to know where he’s seen this boy, this boy that feels like a fading dream.

Does he resemble an actor from one of his mother’s shows, the Japanese ones she puts on while she cooks? No, that’s not it. He’s too young to look like any of those actors. Anyway, Langa never pays attention to the actors on the screen; he only knows the story because his mother has been following the ridiculous drama for years now. So the boy doesn’t just look like someone Langa might have seen on tv.

Does he look like an athlete Langa’s watched perform time after time, desperately trying to analyze his technique in hopes of recreating whatever is being done? No, it isn’t that either. Langa never recognizes the athletes, even when they tell him they've been competing against each other for years. He remembers their boards, but never their faces. So it isn’t that.

No matter how much Langa rakes his brain, he can’t find where it is that he’s seen the grin, the bright eyes, the freckles. Maybe the boy really is a figment of his imagination, a face given to a faceless dream that comes back every so often. Maybe he’s caught a glance of someone who looks like him in the street, or maybe it’s just a mere coincidence that the boy Langa’s made up looks like him, a mixture of a bunch of features that gave someone real. Or maybe Langa is delusional from his lack of sleep.

Langa drops his phone as his door is pushed open. He knows his mother knocked, but when he gets lost in his own little world, nothing else exists. Nothing exists until his bubble bursts.

“Langa sweetheart?” Nanako is standing in the doorway. She's looking at him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her usual worry is evident in her features. “Is everything alright?”

Langa shifts, pushing his legs off of his bed to sit up. He nods at his mother, his words failing him. He hates how he finds himself unable to speak.

“Are you sure?” She shifts her weight to the side. Worry. “I’ve been calling you to set the table for the past 10 minutes now.”

Langa blinks at his mother before apologizing. He hadn’t heard her, he says. He had gotten lost in his own little world. He’s sorry, he’ll be down in a minute to set the table.

“Langa.” Nanako’s voice pierces through him as he fishes his phone out from under his pillow. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Langa almost cracks. He almost tells her. He almost admits that he hates everything he’s doing. He almost admits that he hates going to school. He almost admits that he hates training. He almost admits that the thing he hates most is himself. Almost, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be able to survive the disappointed look on his mother’s face. He knows she would understand, that she’d tell him he’s allowed to quit, that she would support him no matter what, but he also knows she would be disappointed.

So he just smiles at her, that closed-mouthed smile he’s been practicing for years.

“I’m just tired.”

Nanako nods before making her way to him. She holds him tightly against herself, the warm embrace of a mother. And for a moment, Langa doesn’t hate himself.

“If you’re tired, I can bring your food up. You don’t have to eat downstairs if it’s too much.”

Langa shakes his head. Dinnertime is the only time of the day where he can spend time with his parents. Between classes and training, he’s barely ever home. It’s the only time where things feel normal, like they were back in the day when Langa was young, doing homework at the kitchen table while his mother cooked, explaining to him what he had to do. It’s the only time where he feels like they’re a family again.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

Nanako sighs as she steps away from him, nodding. A small, tired smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she turns back to him, halfway through the door.

“You promise you’d tell me if something was bothering you?”

Langa nods, promising, but the promise is hollow, his fingers crossed behind his back. It’s broken before even being uttered because Langa knows that he can’t make that promise. There’s just no way that he can promise such a thing. He can’t bring himself to tell anyone about how he feels. But still, he smiles and nods at his mother as she makes her way out of his room, down the stairs, back to the kitchen. He smiles until he can’t bear it anymore and crystal tears fall from his eyes, fall right onto the picture of the grinning boy in his phone, the phone he's been gripping so tightly.

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter eleven

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

Beca woke up the next morning to the birds singing, which was odd, until she remembered she wasn’t in NYC, but in Oregon, at Chloe’s parents’. A glance at her phone told her she had slept later than she usually did, and she burrowed herself deeper beneath the covers, exhaling a sigh. 

The smell of breakfast eventually lured out of the warm cocoon, and she made a stop at the bathroom before heading downstairs. 

Chloe’s mom was cooking at the stove, and she looked over her shoulder when Beca approached. “Oh, good morning, Beca. Did you sleep well?” 

Beca wasn’t usually one to talk in the mornings, at least not before she had her morning coffee, but she mustered a smile and made an effort. “Morning. Yes, thank you.” 

“Chloe told me you drank coffee in the morning. I put a mug out for you on the table, there’s fresh coffee in the pot. You like pancakes?” She asked as she flipped one in her pan. 

Beca could tell where Chloe (or at least college Chloe) got her morning energy from, and she stifled a chuckle as she moved to pour herself a much-needed cup. “Yeah. Pancakes sound great.” She leaned against the counter, cradling her mug between her palms. “Where’s Chloe?”

“Talking with her dad out on the back porch,” Alice said, adding the freshly made pancake to the pile. She turned off the stove and wiped her hands on her apron, focusing on Beca. “We didn’t have the chance to yesterday, but Mike and I wanted to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for what you did for Chloe. Thank you really doesn’t feel like enough. I’m not sure where she’d be without you.” 

“You really don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad she’s doing better.” 

“And for taking over those payments, too. It-- it feels like too much and…” 

Beca shook her head. “Like I said to Chloe, it really is okay, Mrs. Bea-- Alice. I don’t want to flaunt my money around, but I’m more than able to spare 2000 dollars a month, and I’m happy to spend it helping people who need it, like you and Mike. So please, accept it?” She smiled softly. “I know how much you mean to Chloe, and I’d do anything for her.” 

Before Alice could reply, the door at the back of the kitchen opened and Chloe stepped inside, holding it open to let her father wheel in. She cast Beca a smile. “Hey, you. Sleep well? Mom didn’t attack you with questions, did she? I told her you needed coffee first.” 

“I behaved myself,” Alice mumbled, sticking her tongue out before going back to her pancakes. 

Beca chuckled. “She did.” 

After breakfast, Beca helped herself to a shower, before Chloe whisked her away to show her around town. They drove down the main street, and Chloe parked in front of the local high school, cutting the ignition and stepping out. . 

“I feel like you were Head Cheerleader,” Beca said as she shut the door. The smell of the ocean made her smile and breathe in deeply. It was really nice to get out of the city for a bit. 

Chloe smirked, shaking her head as they headed down the sidewalk of what looked like the main street. “Nope.” 

“Softball? You had to be some sort of athlete.” 

“Wrong again.” 

Beca hummed as she thought. “Track?” 

Chloe slipped her hands inside her jacket pockets, walking backward so she was facing Beca. “You’re looking at Oregon’s 400m State Champion for the year 2006.” 

Beca’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? How come you never told me that??” 

Chloe’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Never came up. I’ll show you my trophy when we get home.” She pointed across the street. “This is the cafe my friends and I went to every weekend to gossip about the boys.” 

“Gossiping about boys, huh?” Beca asked, smirking. “Who was your high school crush?” 

“This guy named Ian. He was on the swimming team.” 

Beca cut her a glance. “You guys ever dated?” 

“He asked me out once. Then he asked another girl to prom. I was heartbroken.” 

“Aw.” Beca grinned. “Did you cross off the love doodles featuring his name from your notebooks while belting out to songs from your break-up playlist?”

Chloe shoved her shoulder as Beca laughed. “Shut up. I didn’t have a break-up playlist.” 

“But you had one for songs you liked getting off to?” Beca couldn’t help but tease. “Weirdo.” 

A bright laugh burst past Chloe’s lips. “I can’t believe I burst into your shower.” 

A fond smile spread across Beca’s features at the memory. “And I can’t believe I still auditioned knowing my stalker was part of the group.” 

“I wasn’t a stalker!” Chloe cried, her jaw-dropping. She giggled. “I just… sort of ignored the boundaries.” 

“Which is what stalkers do,” Beca pointed out with another smirk. “It’s cool. I’m glad you did, in hindsight. I got to meet the people who would end up becoming my best friends for life.” 

Chloe narrowed her eyes, amusement flashing in her features. “When did you get so cheesy?” 

A groan flitted past Beca’s lips. “Ugh. Gross, right?” 

As Chloe laughed, Beca realized how much she had missed the banter. Every little piece of Chloe Beale surfacing never failed to make her smile. 

Chloe’s step faltered when they came across a baby shop, her eyes lingering on the window. 

Beca smiled, nudging Chloe’s shoulder with her own. “We can go in if you want?” 

A matching smile spread across Chloe’s features as she nodded, and they both stepped inside the medium-sized store.

“Jesus, kids need that much stuff?” Beca asked as she glanced around the various items, muttering an apology when the employee glanced at her. 

Stifling a giggle, Chloe headed to the onesie section and browsed through the rack. “Oh Bec, look,” she said, holding up a simple, white onesie that read little bean in cool lettering. The smile that lit up Chloe’s face as she looked at the item was the first one Beca had seen reach her eyes since Chloe had been back in her life and the sight of it made her heart swell.

Chloe must have felt her staring, and she glanced up curiously. “What?”

“Nothing,” she cleared her throat. “You’re just… glowing.”

“I think you should get it,” she added not to make it awkward. “It’s adorable.”

After their stop at the store, she and Chloe headed to the wharf for lunch. It was a sunny, warm spring day, and they sat on a bench in front of the sea to eat their sandwiches as Chloe shared more memories about growing up in her hometown. 

“So how did you and Sarah meet?” Chloe asked following a lull in the conversation. 

Beca finished chewing her bite and swallowed, washing it down with a sip of soda. “I used to go to the coffee shop pretty often for lunch. We would talk for a bit each time. I was clueless to her flirting, it was only when she left her number that I realized she was into me.” 

Chloe chuckled, eyeing her with a raised eyebrow. “You? Clueless to flirting? That doesn’t sound right.” 

Beca’s eyes rolled skyward as she fought back a smile. “Bite me, Beale.” 

Chloe giggled. “Sorry. She seems like a great girl, though.” 

“Yeah,” Beca breathed out, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped. “She really is.” 

And she meant that. She cared a lot about Sarah, but ever since their talk about a month ago, she had been questioning her own commitment to their relationship, going back and forth about what she wanted. The fact that she had been so oblivious about Sarah’s needs to take the next step because she felt comfortable with where they were at was the first red flag that she wasn’t all in. 

People should feel the need to move forward after fourteen months together, right? 

Sarah was kind, funny, loving, and everything Beca imagined in a significant other, but whenever she found herself trying to picture their life down the road, two, five, ten years from now, her mind went blank. 

“You okay?” Chloe asked, her head tilted as she gazed at Beca. 

“Yeah,” Beca breathed out, shaking those thoughts out of her head and focusing back on Chloe. She cleared her throat. “What’s next on the list, Beale?” 

After buying ice-creams from her favorite shop, Chloe took her to her favorite beach, and they headed home around three, as Chloe felt like taking a nap. 

Over the next two days at her parents’, they baked, took walks in the forest or by the sea, and had movie nights with Alice and Mike. Beca made sure to give the three some family time as well, spending a couple of hours every day working on her laptop in the guest room. 

That last night in Oregon, she found Chloe on the swingset in the garden, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Beca approached with two hot chocolates, handing one over before lowering herself on the other swing. 

“I’ve yet to find a prettier sky than this one,” Chloe mused aloud, craning her neck to look at the starry darkness above them as she cradled her mug between her palms. 

“It’s pretty dope,” Beca agreed softly. She glanced at Chloe, and finally plucked the courage to word the thought that had been going in a loop in her mind since their first night in Newport. “Have you given some thought about moving back here?” 

She was hoping Chloe would stay with her, to be completely honest. They had just rekindled, and Beca didn’t want her to live on the other side of the country. She could also feel some sort of attachment to Bean, which sounded ridiculous as they weren’t even born yet. But she also understood that Chloe might want to be with her parents, someplace that is close to her heart.

“I don’t know yet,” Chloe admitted, clearing her throat. “I’m concerned about disrupting their lives with a newborn baby. Mom’s already got so much on her plate with taking care of dad, and I don’t know if me being around while I’m still recovering is the smartest idea, with my dad feeling so guilty. I want him to focus on his health. But I guess it would be simpler, right? For you, I mean.” 

Beca shook her head. “I told you you could stay as long as you’d like. My place is your home, and I…” she cleared her throat, shrugging as her gaze flickered back to the stars. “I like having you around.”

“I like living with you, too,” Chloe admitted, smiling softly. “And I like my therapist and my NA group.” 

And having a routine was essential for a recovering addict. 

“Then it feels like a no-brainer,” Beca concluded.

“What about Sarah?” Chloe asked after a moment. “Are you sure she’s okay with me living with you?” 

The mention of Sarah made Beca’s heart squeeze with guilt. The last few days only further confirmed how she felt. She wasn’t missing her like she was probably supposed to, even though it had been ten days since they had last seen one another, as Beca had been too busy to do anything besides working, eating and sleeping that week leading up to their trip. 

She had been sending Sarah check-in texts because she felt like she had to, not because she wanted to. 

Beca needed to sack up and be honest with Sarah, something she had been delaying because she was a coward and terrified of breaking her heart. But she knew deep down she was doing more harm than good right now by running away from how she truly felt. 

She knew deep down, that Sarah deserved someone better.  

“Yeah,” she replied absent-mindedly, swallowing, then mustering a smile. “Don’t worry about that.” 

She sent a text to Sarah later that night, asking if she could come over after they landed in NYC tomorrow night. The following morning, she and Chloe grabbed an early breakfast, as they needed to be in Portland at ten. 

“You’re welcome back here anytime, Beca,” Alice said, pulling back from the hug. 

A genuine smile spread across Beca’s features. “Thanks, Alice.” 

“Bye dad,” Chloe murmured, leaning in to hug him tightly. 

Mike closed his eyes and hugged her back. “Safe travels, Chlobear. Love you.” 

“Love you, too. So much.” She embraced her mom next, echoing the same sentiment before sliding into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind her. 

Beca slid behind the wheel and started the car, pulling out of the driveway and onto the main road as Chloe waved to her parents. 

“You okay?” She asked after a moment, glancing at Chloe briefly. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Chloe replied with a firm nod. “Thanks for coming with me.” 

“No problem. A break from the city was pretty nice.” 

They landed in NYC a little bit after 8 pm. Beca had the cabbie drop Chloe off at her apartment, then headed to Sarah’s, riding the elevator to her floor. 

She knocked on the door and stepped back, wiping her sweaty palms over the denim of her jeans. Her stomach was in knots, and she wished she could fast-forward the next twenty minutes or so. The door swung open a few seconds later, Sarah standing on the other side. 

“Hey you,” she greeted with a small smile. 

“Hey,” Beca murmured, kissing Sarah’s cheek out of habit. “How was your day?” 

“Same old,” Sarah said as she shut the door, then moved towards the kitchen. “How was the trip? You want a beer?”

“It was nice,” Beca replied as she followed, leaning against the counter. “No thanks, I’m good.” She took a deep breath, knowing she had to do this now before she chickened out. 

“What’s up?” Sarah asked as she closed the fridge and turned around, leaning against the opposite counter.

Beca cleared her throat, nibbling on the inside of her cheek. “So, um. I’ve been thinking a lot about us moving in together and I…” Honesty. Honesty was the best policy. Rip off the band-aid. “I don’t see myself getting there.”

Sarah visibly swallowed, and she nodded slowly, glancing down at the floor for a few beats. Given her reaction, Beca could tell she had been sort of expecting it.

“I’m sorry,” Beca murmured, a lump rising in her throat. “I know I gave you false hope by saying we would figure something out, I just wasn’t sure how I felt up until recently.” She grimaced. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. But you deserve someone who can be all in.”

The tear running down Sarah’s face broke Beca’s heart. She blinked back her own, exhaling slowly. 

“Like you seem to be all in with Chloe?” Sarah asked quietly, stunning Beca into silence. 

“What?” 

Sarah’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling. “You’re oblivious to that, too?” When Beca didn’t say anything, she released a soft laugh. It was anything but humorous. “I see the way you look at her, Bec. I know the both of you living together was something that just happened because Chloe didn’t have anywhere to stay, but I can tell you like having her around. I can tell you have feelings, even if you don’t seem to realize it yet. I was hoping I was wrong, but you not hesitating on going on that trip when we hadn’t seen each other in over a week made it pretty clear that Chloe would always come first.” 

Beca’s brain was stuck on the first part. Did she really look at Chloe differently? Feelings? She cared about her, sure, but-- “That’s not—”

Sarah swiped her palm over her cheeks, nodding. “And you’re right. I deserve someone who looks at me the way you look at Chloe. Like I’m their person. Someone who loves me as much as I love them.” 

“Me ending things doesn’t have anything to do with Chloe,” Beca said softly, truly believing that. She knew the next words were going to sting, but she needed Sarah to believe it, too. “I just… don’t see this going anywhere.” She hung her head, feeling like the worst person in the world for breaking someone’s heart. “I’m sorry, Sarah.” 

“Yeah. Me, too.” Sarah cleared her throat, pinching her lips together for a moment, seemingly trying to keep a hold on her emotions. “I think you should go.” 

Beca nodded, another apology laying on the top of her tongue. She swallowed it back knowing it probably wouldn’t make Sarah feel any better, and pushed to her feet, quietly walking out of Sarah’s apartment.

[twstwonderlandstuff]

Octo Love! (Reader x Azul!)

Original song

My cover 

In which [Name] gets a little too tired and goes on a sporadic singing journey.

It always feels like you’ve exhausted yourself to the max limit. Every day, you trudge back to Ramshackle, muscles and back sore from the work Crowley forces upon you, that damned bird. Every day, you collapse into the soft cushions in Ramshackle and fall asleep in 3 seconds, and after an hour-long ‘nap’, you wake up to see Grim sprawled on top of you, snoozing away (you’re always grateful for the ghosts you take their time to spread a blanket on top of both of you). 

But today… today was different. 

No, you’re still exhausted (come ON now, this is school and when does one catch a break from school?), eyebags visible, but this time, you don’t get the chance to go to Ramshackle. 

No-no-no. See, you’re broke. Very, very, broke, and you have to work, and what better place to get models, than working in Monstro Lounge, right?

Well, it depends. 

On good days, working there can be its sort of fun, with Floyd’s unstable mood swings, the business of the place, Azul (with his mafia-like nature) running the place to perfection, and Jade’s butler act, but on other days were simply dealing with that is too much. 

You lose all sense of logic and fear- throw that shit out of the window, dawg, it doesn’t matter.

Say it with me, loud in clear! LOGIC AND FEAR DOESN’T MATTER! Again! LOGIC AND FEAR-

“Shrimpy~?” Floyd asks, and you gasp in alarm, gripping onto whatever you were doing. What were you doing?

Ah, yes, cleaning Monstro Lounge after dark, right, right…

“Yo, Floyd…” You give him a weak grin, tiredly pushing the mop against the tiles. “I’m so… sleepy.”

“But you’re always sleepy.” Floyd points out, lighting up. “Ah, wait here, Shrimpy. I got something for you~” He quickly leaves, leaving you looking like a deer in spotlights. 

“Ehh… ah, whatever…” You mumble, going back to your duties. Oh god, the floor’s beginning to look like something entirely different….

“[Name]? Are you alright?” This time it’s Jade asking, his calm and soothing voice forcing you to rub out the sleepiness from your eyes. You know he’s not that concerned, but the verbalization is appreciated. 

“No, not really. Fuck, I just want-” You don’t get the chance to finish your complaint as Floyd bursts in, holding a sheet of music and a mic in hand. 

“Shrimpy~! You know when you sang that weird song?” Your eyes snap open for the first time, and your cheeks redden. Ahh…

It’s a song from your middle-school years, how embarrassing. You were talking with Floyd- well, to be precise, he was spinning and squeezing you about- and as he was spinning you, you began to hum a little tune. The eel picked up on it, and insistently asked what you were singing about, so you gave him the entire rundown of the song.

He giggled, saying how weird it sounded, but his grin contradicted his statement and before you could realize it, he dropped you on the ground and ran away, doing who knows what- and it seems that he’s…

“You… wrote the entire note-chorus- thing?! Based on what I said?!” You shout, skimming over the notes he’s written down messily. 

“Floyd, this is amazing, holy shit!” You gasp in amazement. “That’s so cool!”

“Hehe, sea otter helped me out! Sea otter’s too nice, it’s kinda annoying.” Floyd pouts, going to sling his arm around Jade. “Whatcha think, Ja-de?”

The twin smoothly takes the paper out of your hands and reads the notes, looking amazed. “Ah.. this truly is spectacular, Floyd. Good job.” He pats Floyd on the head, and Floyd grins at the praise. 

“What’s going on here?” Ah, the man of the hour, the head of the fish mafia himself, Azul Ashengrotto.

You might or might not harbor a tiny, insignificant crush on him. No, you don’t have secret doodles of him and you in the corners of your notebook, of course not! That very notion revokes the idea of logic!

But then again, didn’t you say ‘FUCK LOGIC!’ just a while ago? You did, didn’t you?

…

Well, maybe the crush is bigger than that. There might be a chance that it’s 0.1% bigger than that.

…

No, you most definitely harbor an obvious crush on the silver-haired bloke, and EVERYONE KNOWS, except the bloke himself!

“A-Azul, hey!” He waves you aside, used to the way you stutter when you speak to him.

 “Floyd, I believe I told you to check on [Name], not needlessly wave around a piece of paper,” Azul says, adjusting his glasses.

“But A~zul~ take a look! I, Sea Otter, and Shrimpy made this, you know! And I don’t wanna work anymore! I wanna play the piano~” Without giving Azul a chance to protest, he grabs you (and throws you over his back like a sack of potatoes) and the paper, and runs to the piano Monstro has, leaving Jade to deal with Azul. 

“Jade, set me down at once-” Azul complains as he’s handled similarly to you, looking undignified. 

“My apologies, Azul, but it wouldn’t do good to displease Floyd.” Jade chuckles.  “Besides, don’t you want [Name] to rest? It seems that you were quite worried about their health, fufu.”

Azul stiffens, a light blush adorning his ears. “I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, I must have misunderstood. My apologies.” Jade snickers, setting Azul down on one of the tables in Monstro Lounge, sitting next to him. 

You and Floyd are too far away to hear this conversation, with Floyd getting the piano up excitedly and handing you the mic. 

“Wait, are we going to play a concert? In the middle of the night?” You mutter, taking the mic dumbly. 

“Duh~ you’re pretty dim, Shrimpy!” Floyd snickers darkly, setting the music sheet in front of him and stretching. “What did Goldfish say…? Oh yeah, this spell!” 

After the spell was cast, the piano began to play a tune to what you’re familiar with. 

“Holy shit. It’s playing by itself?!” Floyd pays no heed to your words and began dancing. 

“Come on, Shrimpy, sing!” He encourages you, clearly having fun. 

Well, what’s the harm? You turn the mic on, and begin singing, moving your body for a bit.

“Ooo, we break the laws of attraction

Like you’re sent from above

Got a case of octo love”

Azul glares at the oddly fitting words but begins to slowly bop his head. Jade is smiling, stiffly dancing in his seat. 

“Ooo, we’re like a chemical reaction

Or a code you can’t debug

Got a case of octo love”

“She’s always turning to violence-” Floyd laughs particularly hard at this, and swings you around, leading you to giggle halfway through the song. 

“…’s so determined she’s timeless

And I’m so nervous I’m silent.”

Floyds leaves you be, and you pause in time with the music. 

“What if she finds out I’m lying?

What if she sends me home crying?

Why can’t I just be kawaii?”

“Isn’t that a term Idia-shii often uses…?” Azul mutters. Floyd comes closer to Jade and Azul, picking the latter up. 

“Wait wait wait-!” 

“Too late, Azul~” He plonks Azul, next to you, and you give him a grin. 

“Baby, baby, baby, you’re so fine-” You scream into the mic, clutching it like a madman. 

Mew mew kissy cutie, you’ll be mine-

Crushing, crushing, crushing, on AZUL-” 

The octopus freezes in shock, as you continue with the very, very fitting lyrics. Floyd’s going absolutely ham, doing some sort of ska dance with his twin as he laughs at your mistake. (RIP all the other members of Octavinelle). 

“Oh, did I say that out-”

No, did I say that out loud?!” You, being dramatic, clutches Azul’s hands and shake them, seemingly unaware of what you’ve said. 

The octopus face reddens almost immediately when you swing his arms as children do.

“Ooo, we break the laws of attraction

Like you’re sent from up above

Got a case of octo love”

The poor dorm leader would like to hide under his octopod forever now, thank you very much. 

“Ooo, we’re like an improper fraction

Hope this ship gets safe to shore

Though I’m quite unsure”

“Come on shrimpy, join us!” Floyd grabs you and Azul, and together, the 4 of you began dancing in a circle as the Dance Break ensues, your and Azul’s hands holding each other. Azul just repeatedly wants to die of shame and embarrassment. 

“She’s always turning to violence

I’m always turning to science

She’s so determined she’s timeless 

And I’m so nervous I’m silent.”

You lot stop spinning, dizzy, and out of breath as Floyd takes the mic and sings into it, surprisingly melodious (well, maybe it’s not THAT much of a surprise. He IS from the sea, after all.)

“What if she finds out I’m lying?

What if she sends me home crying?

Why can’t I just be kawaii?

And then I’m like…”

Jade takes the microphone, seemingly knowing the lyrics, and sings into it, making you cheer as you press close to him. 

“Baby, baby, baby, you’re so fine

Mew mew kissy cutie, you’ll be mine-”

You grab the mic back, spinning in place. 

Crushing, crushing, crushing on Azul-”

You point towards the dorm leader, who’s taken to sitting on the floor of Monstro Lounge and hiding most of his face with his hands, excluding his eyes, and come near him, getting your face a little too close to his liking. 

“And so I shout it out!” 

And so I shout it out loud!”

You grab Azul by the hand and drag him towards you, skillfully keeping him balanced. He can’t help but wonder, Where was this energy when you were working?

You began to do a sort of impromptu couple dance, your exhausted giggles and laughs slipping in and Azul sighs at the silliness of it all, but… he smiles genuinely. 

You look so plaintively happy here that he can’t help it, you know?

“Ooo, we’re like a warrior in action

Fit together like a glove-”

You shove the mic into his face, and he, in a low voice, murmurs. 

“Got a case of octo love…”

You gasp dramatically, looking like you didn’t notice him. 

“OOOOH MY GOD HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN STANDING THERE?!”

“I’ve been right here the whole time…” He mutters, a little confused. Is this part of the song, or something?

“Ok, now I want to die.” You say, deadpan. The twins, who were back to their own ska dance thing, grabs the mic from you and pulls you and Azul by the arms (again). The four of you began to sing in harmony (as harmonious as you can get, anyway). 

“Ooo, we break the laws of attraction-”

You eagerly grab the mic back.  “A duet will maybe do... cuz I invited Floyd and Jade too!”

“Hehe, of course, you did, Shrimpy~”

“Smooshed together like a bug!!”

“Got a case of Octo love~”

You let out a huge laugh, giggling and snickering as Jade sets you down, catching your breath. 

“That was… fun…! But now, I...holy shit… I’m tired…” You gasp in exhaustion, falling flat onto one of the couches and quickly began to fall asleep, but-

“Ne, Shrimpy?”

With the last bit of your strength, you open your eyes just a tiny bit. “Wha..?”

“D’ya realize what ya said?” Floyd’s grin is wide like he was about to tease the SHIT out of you or use you in some way. He flops on the floor and leans onto your leg. 

“The song, yeah?”

“Hihihi, Shrimpy~,” The twin says. “You’ll see tomorrow~ goodnight.” He says quietly, a quick change of mood. 

“Sleep tight.” Jade laughs, sitting down next to you and putting his head back. 

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Azul finishes, sitting a bit further away from the 3 of you. 

“G’night.” Not a second later, and you are asleep, breathing softly.

*

“Ne, ne, Azul~? Watcha think of Shrimpy’s confession?”

“Th-that wasn’t a confession! It was a slip of the tongue.”

“Eh. You’re still gonna deny that. That’s cowardly, Azul~ Even Shrimpy knows better than that.”

“I must agree. Honestly, to think that you were beaten to confessing. And most oddly, too.”

“I...um…”

*The Leech twins grin widely at Azul’s clamming up. 

“Hmm~?”

“J-just leave me be!”

*With a face as red as tomatoes, Azul leaves, assuming to hide in his octo pot. 

[Thanks v much for reading! This is a better version of what I put out yesterday because god damn, that was disgraceful.]

[almost-correct-bnha-quotes]

I love you

Request/tags: @reality-is-often-disappointing

Ship: Aizawa x Reader

Summary: After some tough weeks at work, a haircut you weren’t really proud of and some mean comments, you breakdown under the pressure. Luckily, Aizawa is there to comfort you.

____________________________________________

Your breath was shaky as you doodled something on a piece of paper, in an attempt to distract yourself from the blue emotions whirling in your head. You got a haircut recently that wasn't perfect, but was okay, in your opinion. Not everyone seemed to agree. You had a few negative thoughts when looking in the mirror, and the comments you gained from certain family members managed to bring you down a lot.

In another time, you would have resisted better, perhaps, but you did have some difficult weeks at work that didn’t really help your mood up, either. Eventually, you felt your emotions get the best of you. You felt how the lump in your throat grew tighter and more irritating as your eyes began stinging. God, no, you thought. 

For a moment, you checked your phone. It was 5 PM and you expected your boyfriend, Aizawa to enter the house any minute. He finished his classes around this hour, and you hoped he wouldn’t get called for a Pro Hero meeting, patrol or some other job-related business that evening. Those things usually ate up all the evening (and often the night as well), along with all his energy. You wondered, for a moment, if it was selfish of you to ask this much from the universe. In truth, it wasn’t. The unverse seemed to notice your struggle, as keys jingled in the front door, allowing the person you were expecting to enter the house.

“Y/N, I’m home!” He called out, tiredness audible in his voice. 

Youbit your lip, unsure how to respond for a moment. You didn’t want to worry him, but God you needed a hug and some reassurance from him.

“Eh… great!” You said, your voice slightly hoarse from the lump of emotions in your throat, “How was your day?”

Aizawa sighed as he took his jacket off. As much as you tried, you still couldn’t fool him. He’s known you for a solid five years now and dated you for three of them. He probably knew you the best. 

“My day was fine, the usual schoolwork.” he said as he walked up the stairs. He pushed the door to your office open and looked at you softly. “Now, how was your day?”

He walked up to you and rubbed your back slowly. You always found it comforting but this time, even if it still remained comforting, it only resulted in you bursting in tears. 

“Oh dear,” he muttered, “Oh no.”

“I- I’m sorry,” You said. God, you felt like a burden.

“No, no, don’t apologise. Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong. Come, let’s lay down.”

You stood up slowly and let him carry you to your bedroom, taking slow steps between sobs.The two of you lay down in bed as, unnoticed until then, your cat, a fluffy grey Siberian tomcat named Pogo, followed you into your bedroom. He jumped on the bed at your feet and looked at you curiously, probably wondering why you were so sad. If he could’ve fully understood why you were so upset that day -and week, to be fair- he would’ve said the nicest things to you.

Luckily for you, Pogo was a smart cat. He knew you were upset and although not knowing why you felt the way you did, he made sure to cuddle to your feet, rubbing his fur to your legs. It was something that resulted in you snorting a little in amusement, much to everyone’s relief.

“So, what happened?” Aizawa asked, playing with your hair.

You began to tell him all about those mean comments you received from your family, the tough days with school in which you were literally drowning under the work and pressure to get all your tasks done and the insomnia nights in which blasting music in your earphones felt like the best medicine in the world against the endless daylight frustrations and occupations. Aizawa smiled, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth.

“Silly kitten,” he said, calling you the nickname he always used when amused with you and comforted you, “Going through all this and telling me nothing? Those people who raised you must be blind and dumb. You are beautiful, especially with this new hairstyle. It gives you a fresh look, you know? A cool look. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful. Whatever you do or say is already perfect.”

“But… that won’t stop them from being rude to me.”

“You’re right. They might not stop. But let’s try not to put their comments to the heart, shall we? You have me with you.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl, kitten,” he said. 

He bopped your nose and wrapped his hands around you. You pressed your head against his chest. Through his soft, dark blouse, you could hear the rhythmical, calming beats of his heart. 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered in your ear, “I promise, Y/n. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you.”

[writing-freak]

BNHA Soulmate AU Week Day 5: Drawing on Skin

(GIF credit to its owner!! :) )

Kaminari Denki x Reader

Word Count: 1,441

A/N: It’s day 5 of my bnha soulmate au week! Today’s fic, featuring this lovable idiot, is an au where anything soulmates write/color on their skin shows up on their soulmate! Reader has the same chaotic energy as Kami does, and they’re covered in marks all the time. I had a ton of fun writing this, so I hope y’all like it! Remember, I’m taking soulmate au headcannon and imagine requests for BNHA characters in addition to the 2 other fics I have planned for the week! Stay tuned - tomorrow I’ve got one with my favorite girl, Jirou! If you want to be added to this week’s taglist, or have a request, let me know! Thanks for reading!! :))

Masterlist

You thought your friend was crazy.

You were currently waiting on her bed before you left for classes, watching her fret by the mirror with her concealer on her chin.

“They got paint on their chin again!” she complained, and you rolled your eyes.

“I just want to get to class on time,” you whined in response, pulling up your sleeve to reveal your own marks covering your skin.

But in reality, you were complaining about more than that. As you looked fondly on all of the drawings, notes and messages your soulmate (or you, you couldn’t even remember at this point) had marked on your body, you just simply could not understand wanting to cover them up with makeup. You were proud of your soulmate, and the marks that meant that they belonged to you, and you belonged to them.

You pulled out a marker from your pocket (at this point, you always carried one around), and wrote a small message on your palm.

Hi, you wrote, adding a smiley face beside it.

Pretty soon, the drawing was changing, and a little tongue was added to the smile, along with two more smileys on each side of it. You smiled in response.

And then there was a little movement a bit further up on your arm, and you saw where your soulmate was writing a question in pen on your skin.

Do you want to hear a joke, cutie? they asked.

Grinning to yourself, you wrote a quick yes in response.

What do you call an alligator in a vest?

idk

An investigator

You burst out laughing, and your friend stopped what she was doing to look at you, seeming a bit concerned. But when she saw you writing again on your arm, she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I’m done,” she said.

“Oh,” you said, hopping to your feet. “Okay, well, we’d better hurry.” You pulled your sleeve down again, grabbing your bag as you followed her to the door.

Everyone was pretty used to you drawing all over yourself by now. It was common to find you with a marker in your hand, writing messages on your wrists or knees or palms. And everyone knew that your soulmate must be just as crazy, as you walked around with marks head to toe (it wasn’t even that crazy to find a doodle on your cheek or your forehead). But you had never minded the stares you got in the hallway. You loved your marks, and your little conversations with your soulmate.

“Do you think that when you put makeup on, it appears on your soulmate too?” you asked your friend as you made it to class.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It must, if their paint is always showing up on me. But I’m just doing them a favor, they probably don’t even realize they have paint on their chin! That would be embarrassing!”

You took your seat, nodding to yourself. As class began, you found yourself drowning out the noises around you, and went to doodling absentmindedly on your fingers. You saw your soulmate making additions of their own, and even felt the beginnings of something starting on your shoulder and neck.

You rolled your eyes. Only your soulmate would find a way to draw on their neck during class.

What was it - english? - that your soulmate was taking now? You couldn’t remember, but you did know that whatever it was, it was always their least favorite, and you got the most drawings during this time.

You saw a little doodle figure popping up on your right arm, where some blank space was left over. The person they were drawing was small, with long hair that covered his face. But as the drawing slowly progressed, a familiarity with the figure that was being sketched washed over you.

The hair, the ropes around his neck. It was Aizawa, or Eraserhead, as the general public seemed to know him. But you knew him in a different capacity, as a teacher at your school.

Your heart began pounding in your chest. But you tried to calm down for a second, reminding yourself that the teacher was a famous pro hero.

You found yourself unable to breathe as your soulmate began scribbling a message beside the image.

My teacher looking about as tired as I feel, they wrote, and to top things off, they added an arrow pointing to the teacher you knew too well.

The pounding of your heart stopped, and you felt your breath hitch in your chest.

Your soulmate went to your school. They were in this building, right now.

The moment your teacher dismissed your class you were up, running out of the classroom without even sparing a glance in the direction of your friend, even after she called after you.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you were running in the direction of the hero classes. But when you finally reached the doors to class 1-A, you found the classroom empty.

Training? you wrote quickly on your hand. There was a hesitancy, and you imagined the shock your soulmate was feeling as well. But then you saw the yes scribbled beneath your question, and you were off running once again.

You found your way to the training facility just as class 1-A was finishing up, or so you assumed, as all of the students were filing out, bags slung around their shoulders, their gym uniforms unzipped and their faces red from exertion.

They didn’t seem to notice you as they passed, each more exhausted than the last. But you were looking frantically at all of them, all of their faces, arms, necks, hands. Until the very last group came through the doors, and a blond boy, with his sleeves rolled up and his jacket unzipped, marks covering his arms and his neck and his hands, walked out with his friends.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at the boy. He hadn’t seen you yet, and he was laughing, just as you would have expected. You weren’t even sure if you would have needed the marks over his skin to let you know he was yours. There was just an aura about him, one you were all too familiar with, from all your years communicating with him over writing.

He looked up from his friends, a lazy sort of smile on his face, and he saw you. Your sleeves were rolled up at this point from all your running around, and you knew your tie had been loosened around your neck. His eyes went wide, his mouth hung open.

You were both frozen, staring at each other from just a few paces away. His friends seemed to notice something was up (probably when he stopped talking for five consecutive seconds), and after giving you amused glances, they left the boy.

The boy seemed to come out of a trance, and a goofy grin returned to his face. He closed the small space between you, looking at you in amazement. His eyes trailed your body, paying special attention to the marks on your arms.

He held out his hand (complete with a smiley face message), finally meeting your eyes. “I’m Kaminari Denki,” he said.

A wide grin on your face that matched his own, you skipped the hand and hopped straight into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“Your jokes are really corny,” you mumbled into his shoulder, laughing.

“Oh yeah?” Kaminari said, pulling back so he could raise his eyebrows at you. “You sure they don’t make you laugh?” He poked your cheek teasingly. “Cause you seem to be smiling now, cutie.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back as you laughed. It was so natural, this interaction. It was like you had known him for years, and you expected that was because you had.

After introducing yourself, the two of you linked arms as you headed back to the main building, planning on eating lunch together during your break.

“What did the nut say to the nut he was chasing?” Kaminari asked as you walked with elbows linked.

“The nut?” you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, it’s a nut,” Kaminari shoved you lightly, breaking away from your arm as you stumbled away. But he didn’t go without touching you for long, and before you knew it, his arm was slung around your neck. “It needs to be nuts for the joke to work.”

“Alright then, what did the nut say?” You turned to look at your soulmate, your eyes narrowing as you waited for an answer.

A big grin spread across his face. “I’m gonna cashew!”

Taglist: @anything-and-everything-here69​ @engel-hageshii​ @mrsreina​ @pm4gal​

[lady-wallace]

Scars (Febuwhump Day 23: “Don’t Look”)

For today’s @febuwhump​ prompt: “Don’t Look”

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind

Synopsis: (For Febuwhump Day 23) Giorno has done his best to hide his past, but it was only a matter of time before Bucciarati found out anyway.

Find me on Ko-fi! I do doodles for coffee ^_^

A/N: This is technically a sequel to my story “Our Burdens to Bear” but can be read by itself :)

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

Giorno sighed with a wince as he pulled himself out of the car, heavy with exhaustion. This had not been an easy mission. How was he supposed to know that a Stand that took the form of vines and thorns would only get stronger when hit with Gold Experience's power instead of the usual repercussions?

Mista, Fugo, and Bucciarati followed him, also a little roughed up, but not as badly as Giorno who the user seemed to have a particular vendetta against.

"I can patch your injuries up if you want, Giorno," Fugo told him.

Giorno vaguely remembered that Fugo's method of patching up involved staples and duct tape and fought a shudder. It was a good thing his Stand could heal, as exhausted as he was. Besides, he would have to take his shirt off completely to treat some of the wounds and he wasn't exactly okay with that…

"It's okay, I'll have Gold Experience do it," Giorno told Fugo, making his way slowly into the house, wanting to shut himself away in his room as quickly as possible.

"Giorno?" Bucciarati called after him, but Giorno simply tossed an "I'm fine" over his shoulder and hurried the rest of the way up the stairs, as quickly as his battered body could go.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed his door behind him. Ever since Abbacchio had accidently seen his scars he had tried to be more careful. He just really didn't want to have to recount the story of where they had come from to his new family. Not yet.

He crossed the room to shakily slump onto the end of his bed, letting out a groan as he assessed his injuries. A lot of lacerations, pretty badly bruised ribs that he couldn't do anything about. And there was still a very sharp pain in his lower back for some reason.

No point in putting it off any longer though. He stood and unzipped his coat, pulling it from his shoulders with a wince. He had a pretty bad gash on his upper arm and another across his collarbone. He stepped over to the mirror by the closet and let the coat fall to the floor. Probably had too many holes to be worth saving, but it wasn't like the Don of Passione couldn't get a new suit when he needed one. He winced at his bruised side that was quickly turning black and blue and braced himself as he turned his back to the mirror and tried to see why it was hurting so much.

Giorno forced his eyes away from the scars, lurking under the fresh cuts and blood smeared across his pale skin and focused in on the spot that was giving him so much pain.

Ah, that was why.

There was a huge, probably five-inch thorn from that Stand buried under his skin. He thought he had pulled all those out already, but he guessed he had missed this one.

He summoned Gold Experience, his injured shoulder and side making it impossible for him to reach behind himself to pull it out. Even his Stand's fingers fumbled though, affected by Giorno's sheer exhaustion. It seemed that vine Stand had actually sucked up his energy instead of being repelled by it. His own Stand was usually so precise, but with his own exhaustion Gold slipped trying to get the thorn out and Giorno let out a sharp yelp, feeling fresh blood trickle down his back. He grabbed hold of the closet door to steady himself and took a deep breath. It must be pressing on some nerve to hurt so badly. "Okay, try it again," he finally commanded, a little breathless.

A knock on the door caused him to jolt. "Giorno? Are you all right? I have some bandages."

Bucciarati. Giorno didn't get the chance to tell him he was fine, he snatched his discarded coat up and slung it over his shoulders just as the door opened, revealing the capo, who had a concerned look on his face.

"Giorno?" he asked as the young man pressed himself against his closet door.

"D-don't look," he nearly begged, panic making him desperate.

Bucciarati stopped, frowning, holding a tray of medical supplies in front of him. "Giorno, what's wrong? What happened?"

Giorno felt his heart start to beat rapidly, Gold Experience hovered at his back, phantom hands on his shoulders, shielding him, and Bucciarati placed the tray onto Giorno's desk before taking a step toward the boy.

"Nothing happened, it's fine, I can heal myself." Giorno said firmly.

Bucciarati stopped, his frown increasing. He held out his hand.

"Here, at least let me take that coat of yours to get it cleaned up."

"No!" Giorno said, only holding the garment closer to him.

Exasperation flashed across Bucciarati's face, his hands went to his hips. "Giorno, you're being ridiculous. Tell me what's wrong so I can help you!"

His face turned to shock as Giorno cowered instinctively and slowly slumped to the ground, his knees turning to jelly. Bruno's face instantly softened to one of parental concern and he carefully crouched next to him.

"Giorno…" He reached out and Giorno flinched away, closing his eyes and clutching his jacket around his shoulders as he told himself he was okay, he wasn't back there. It wasn't him.

"Giorno." Bucciarati said again. "If you're hurt, let me help you. You're exhausted, and I would rather not see you suffer. I know what that Stand fight took out of you."

Giorno took a shuddering breath and finally looked up, even though he was still unable to meet Bucciarati's eyes. "I just…It's…complicated."

Bucciarati's face softened impossibly further, a look of understanding in his eyes. "Giorno, I have never judged anyone without knowing the full story, and whatever secrets you have are safe with me. I promise."

Giorno blinked up at him, remembering that even Abbacchio hadn't mocked him for his scars. How the older gangster had even recommended that Giorno go to Bucciarati if he needed to talk. Still…he had wanted it to be his choice, not like this.

Though, if left up to him, would he ever have gone to Bucciarati? Maybe it was easier this way after all.

He took a deep, shaky breath and finally allowed Gold Experience to dissipate. "Th-there's a thorn stuck in my back…" he said.

Bucciarati seemed to be relieved by this admission, having a purpose. He nodded, standing up and offering a hand to Giorno. "Why don't you come sit down then so I can get that out?"

Giorno gave a shaky nod and allowed Bruno to pull him to his feet, helping him over to sit on the edge of the bed. He went to get the tray of first aid stuff, obviously giving Giorno a moment to uncover his back. He didn't. He couldn't seem to stop clutching the ruined coat around himself.

"Giorno? May I see?" Bruno finally asked.

Giorno was silent for a long moment before he nodded. But he still didn't move. Bucciarati waited a second before he reached out cautiously and when Giorno didn't stop him, carefully wrested the coat from Giorno's grip, slipping it away to reveal his back.

Giorno ducked his head so he couldn't see the older man's expression, shuddering uncontrollably as Bruno gently gripped his uninjured shoulder and bent him forward to better see his lower back.

He tsked. "My, that does look nasty. Good thing I brought some tweezers."

Giorno flinched as cold metal hit his tender skin but Bucciarati steadied him and with just a little painful digging, pulled the long thorn out as swiftly as possible before he set to cleaning the wound and taping some gauze over it. He then continued up Giorno's back, and Bucciarati's gentle fingers brushing against his scars were suddenly too much. Giorno jerked away, burying his face in his hands.

"Stop!" he choked out.

"Giorno…"

"I know you see them!" he burst out. "I know they're disgusting. But I'm not weak like that anymore. I—I'm not!"

Bucciarati's hand stilled. "Is that what you think? That having scars makes you weak?"

Giorno jerked his head away, biting his lip until he could taste blood. "I couldn't stop it," he whispered, choking. "That makes me weak."

Bruno swiftly finished up with the bandages and came around to face Giorno, crouching to cup his face in his hands. "It doesn't. We all have scars in one way or another. It doesn't make you weak, it shows that you're capable of surviving."

Giorno blinked and a tear slipped down his face. Bucciarati gently wiped it away with a thumb.

"Mio caro ragazzo," the older man said gently as he reached for Giorno's robe that was lying on the bed where he'd left it that morning. He tucked it around him, covering him up again. "There's no need to feel ashamed."

"He was a bastard," Giorno gritted out. "My mother wasn't any better."

"I'm sorry," Bucciarati said sincerely. "If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here."

"I know," Giorno said with a sniff. "That's what Abbacchio told me."

Bruno looked slightly surprised at that revelation but smiled. "Well, I'm here whenever you're ready. For now, how about some tea…?"

He stopped when Giorno reached out and grabbed his sleeve before he could leave. He didn't know why but he didn't want to be left alone again right now. Didn't like the way his thoughts crashed into each other, weighing him down. Another tear slipped unbidden down his cheek. He must be exhausted.

"Giorno?" Bruno inquired gently.

"Thank you," Giorno whispered. "For—for everything."

He was already tilting but when Bruno stepped forward, he gratefully leaned into his warmth. Bucciarati's arms wrapped around him gently and held him close, rocking him slightly as Giorno's arms wrapped around his waist enjoying the kind of love he had never gotten from his parents as a child. Bruno's hand swiped over his mussed hair, his other lightly stroking his back in a soothing gesture. Giorno decided he was okay being weak right now. Whether he was the Don of Passione or not.

But, eventually Giorno loosened his grip, realizing how long they had been in this position and Bruno pulled away with a fatherly kiss pressed to Giorno's forehead.

"Let's finish getting you cleaned up, hm?" he suggested matter-of-factly. "Then, it's up to you whether you want to come down and join us for supper or if you would rather get some rest."

Giorno sat up a little straighter. He was tired, but even more, he just really wanted to be with his family right now. A reminder that he was no longer living in his past. That it was now nothing more than the product of nightmares and bad memories.

"I'm kind of hungry," he said.

Bucciarati smiled brightly and nodded. "Very well then."

He quickly finished up with the bandages and helped Giorno into a comfortable sweatshirt before allowing him to head downstairs. Giorno was instantly greeted with Mista and Trish arguing about something and Narancia whining to Abbacchio as he and Fugo worked on supper, but the chaos was welcome, and he couldn't help but smile. This was his life now and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

[peach-the-owl]

23,38 and 46. With Jester where the M9 is going out to this mission that was was assigned to them but won't take the kid, we get in a argument with Jester about it and we run off ,then traveler finds us and it convinces us to go find them and save them. (SORRY IF THIS TO TOO MUCH! keep it up btw :3)

Conflict…… I love it, and don’t worry it’s not too much. Actually I’m not sure what to consider "too much" just yet, I guess I’ll cross that barrier when it’s reached but for now… conflict 😁

Divine Intervention

Child of the Nein (Jester & Child!Reader)

23- That's not fair! 38- I hate you, 46- You came back

Doing odd jobs for people was both a nice way to help the small communities and make some nice cash for future shopping needs. The town you’d stumbled in was paying a generous reward to anyone who could deal with the chimera that’s been terrorizing the place. The Nein were in one room discussing their course of action while you were in another, happily jotting down in the notebook Jester gave you some little doodles of you fighting the beast as if you’d already won. The door creaks open and Jester walks in, you bounce up to her not noticing the nervous look on her face.

"You’re back! That means you’re all done talking and we can go kick some chimera butt." You say pumping your fist in the air.

"Yeah, ummm, about that…" her voices trails off a little, you still none the wiser as you grab her hand.

"C'mon, c'mon, we can’t keep everyone waiting!"

"(Y/n), I know you’re excited but-"

"Just tell me about it on the way there!" You quickly cut her off before she can finish, making your way to the door.

"Your not coming!" You pause, the smile on your face instantly disappearing as you turn to look at Jester confused. "We were all talking and have decided that you should stay here." She spoke slowly as if having a hard time speaking her words aloud.

"But… but why not?" You look at her with big eyes, she rubs at her shoulders, clearly up having a hard time with this.

"It’s just that this could be really dangerous and we don’t want anything bad happening to you."

"That’s it!?" Your confusion and disappointment bubbled into anger. "We’ve been in lots of dangerous fights before, why is this so different? I know how to handle myself, I can fight!" You argue, Jester bites at her lip.

"I know you can, but you’re also still little and you don’t have a lot of experience, so you can’t come." She crosses her arms and gives you a hard look, your growing anger refuses to let you give up.

"That’s not fair! I’ll never get to learn if I don’t try! What happened to us being the unstoppable team? It’s not fair!" Tears stream down your face as you stomp your feet around and flail your arms up and down in frustration. For a moment Jester looks like she’s about to cave but she shakes her head and looks at you with a stern look.

"That’s enough (y/n). I have to learn to take responsibility for you and I say you’re not coming, that’s final!" You both stare at each other for a second try to make the other back down, when neither one of you does you scream in frustration.

"I hate you!" You yell then quickly turn and dash out the door before you can see Jester's look of pure heartbreak.

"Wait (y/n), come back!" Jester calls to your retreating form, but you were already too far to hear her. She tries to go after you but is stopped by Caleb and Beau.

"We need to leave, now." Caleb simply says.

"I-but I…" Jester shifts her gaze from them to the direction you’d run off in.

"Look," Beau sighs, "whatever it is that’s bothering you will have to wait till we get back." Jester takes one last look at where you’d been then gives a sad nod and follows after them, but not before giving a silent prayer to the Traveler to watch over you.

You were sat by a small pond in town staring at the reflections in the water seeing birds flying around freely in the bright and beautiful sky, you grab a stone and chuck it into the pond making the image shift and shake, than another. Soon you were standing and grabbing whatever seemed close enough to you, throwing them into the pond watching the reflection ripple around before settling down again every time. You reel your hand back but stop yourself this time before throwing the object and stare at it, this was the holy symbol to the Traveler Jester made for you and you almost threw it away. You grip the item tightly and hold it to your chest remembering and feeling guilty about what you shouted at her earlier, slowly sinking back down onto your knees. You hear a soft sigh, seeing a second presents approach you out of the corner of your eye.

"This sour look on your face really doesn’t suit you, I much prefer it when you’re smiling." You turn your head and stare in awe at the clocked figure that takes a seat next to you.

"It’s really you." You speak softly, still absolutely starstruck that you were talking with the very deity Jester's told you so much about and the one you'd come to serve as a paladin to. You hear a chuckle come from them.

"Tell me child, why are you here instead of with everyone else?" You tilt your head in confusion at his question, he should already have known the answer to that.

"I thought you knew everything, so you must have heard me and Jester argue earlier."

"Indeed… I just wished to hear it from you," he pauses a moment. "An unfortunate thing for me to watch really. I rather like seeing the two of you working together to cause such marvellous chaos. Now why don’t you get up and rejoin them."

"But I can’t! Jester said I had to stay here." You cross your arms and pout a little.

"Now when have rules like this stopped you from doing something fun." You look at him again and can see a devious smirk from under the large hood. "If you ask me, rules are more like highly regarded or overly glorified… suggestions others choose to follow, when nessessary." The Traveler hums, you were slowly starting to get the idea being placed before you.

"You really think it’s okay?"

"Oh absolutely, and if they ask you just tell them I was the one to send you there." Your smile brightens for a second but drops when you realize something.

"Wait but I don’t know where they are!" You look to him with concern, he raises his hand and licks at his fingers? Strange, but who were you to question his methods. He then points towards a rocky hillside area.

"If you head in this direction you’ll find where they are, and if you hurry you’ll make it just in time too."

"In time for what?" You ask, feeling him place a gentle hand on top of your head. He leans in a little closer and says.

"Why, in time for them to see just what a paladin of the Traveler can really do." You smile at this and quickly go grab your gear, you take one look behind your shoulder and see that the Traveler was now nowhere in sight but sensed he was still watching over you.

With everything ready you run off in the direction the Traveler had shown you and it’s not long until you find a rather large cave entrance amongst the rocks. There was something about this cave that, when you entered, made you feel icky. As you walk deeper you tap into your Divine Sense in hopes that it’ll help you find the source and to your surprise you were able to detect something fiendish just within your senses radius and decide to follow the awful scent. As you follow your senses you can’t help but wonder what sort of fiend would be here, and more importantly weren’t you supposed to be fighting a chimera. You find your answer when you reach a pitted out area, the source your senses lead you to was in fact a chimera but it was far different then what books have described. It still had the heads of a goat, lion and dragon but it’s wings were more bat-like, it’s tail was that of a scorpions and it had quills on its body like a porcupines, not to mention its abnormally large size and the odd chains that wrapped around its body. The Mighty Nein were down there fighting the beast, they all looked badly roughed up though the chimera itself also looked pretty beaten but not as badly it seemed. It lets out a variety of snarls as it closes in on everyone, you had to think fast, looking at the chimera you notice that the chains on it all linked to one spot on its back where a mysterious stone was wedged into it, that stone had to be the source of the fiendish energy you detected. The only way to get to it was to get onto the chimeras back, fortunately it was in this pit but you were gonna need to make some good distance if you wanted this to work. The chimera swats at the everyone scattering the group to get out of the way its sights then set to the nearest target and as luck would have it that target was Jester. You had a plan, would it actually work you weren’t sure, but you prayed to the Traveler for help and take a few steps back then sprint forward using a combination of the Grease spell you knew and your shield to slide gaining an extra boost of speed. You rocket off the edge and kick off your shield for even more distance, by some divine miracle you managed enough distance to arc yourself right on target with the chained stone. With a loud battle cry, using all your strength and help of gravity you bash your mace into the stone using up a Divine Smite for extra power, so when you hit the stone a large and bright burst of green light pulses from the chimeras back and you hear a loud crack as the stone shatters into pieces the energy within shooting up into the air before dispersing into nothing. Chains clatter to the ground and the chimera collapses, shrinking in size and its extra features revert back into their intended form, you tumble to the ground in a not so graceful way but you didn’t care. The party stares at you in silence and you look over at Jester who slowly picks herself up and you can see tears in her eyes. You run to her ignoring everyone else and practically jump into her waiting arms.

"You came back." Her voice teeters close to a sob while you both share in a much needed hug.

"I’m sorry about what I said, I didn’t mean it, I don’t hate you." You on the other hand couldn’t stop your sobbing, and feel her press a soft kiss to the top of your head. You stay like this for a little while, no one bothering to interject with your sweet little moment.

"How were you able to find us?" Jester asks when you finally break the hug.

"The Traveler came to me, he showed me." You say with a smile, Jester stares shocked for a second then a large smile of her own spreads across her face.

"Isn’t he the best." She says more as a statement, one you nod eagerly to.

"I don’t mean to interrupt, but we should be gettin' out of here." Fjord steps in, pointing to everyone else who were waiting somewhat impatiently. You both give him a nod and make your way back out of the cave.

"I told you all we should’ve brought (y/n) with us." Jester huffs a little.

"It seems you were right," Caleb says then looks to you. "We never should’ve underestimated your abilities." You just give them all a nice smile.

A little ways away a clocked figure watches the party leave the cave, casual banter and laughs now being shared with everyone, the cloaked figure gives a sigh of relief before disappearing from plain sight.

[the-demelza-robins]

american high school!jily (pt II)

hi! here’s a short chapter before The Big One (which is set on Halloween night and will hopefully come out on Halloween, if I have the energy). thanks so much for all the positive feedback, it makes me really happy! also you can read it on AO3 if you want  

read part one here

James and Lily are in the same math class; this fact is not new. What is new, however, is that today, he drops his bag in Sev’s seat, the one right next to her. 

“Hey,” he says, then nods once, as if this is normal. It is not.

“Hi,” she responds, because she doesn’t know what else to do. What she does know is that suddenly she’s aware of him, aware of the solidness of his form beside her. He’s tall, taller than Roger. She never really noticed that before.

He fiddles with his pencil. She blinks once, twice. She’s probably so attuned to his movements because he took Sev’s seat. Yes, that must be it. James sitting next to her means that Severus “I’m a fucking white supremacist” Snape can’t. Math has always been the worst, too — Lily cut Sev out of her life junior year, after he published that article, but he refuses to listen to her when she tells him to stay away, and sits next to her whenever he can. She has no friends in math class, no one to shoot him dirty looks and drown out his murmured apologies and arguments.

But James is here, now. Even if he’s not her friend. Even if he doesn’t know the significance of what he just did.

He’s still here. And that’s something.

***

Lily, please save me, the note reads, written in James’s messy scrawl. It took her a long time, as well as a lot of not-so-subtle hints from James, to realize that he’d written it in the first place. It takes her a little longer to decipher his handwriting, which is fine, because she’s ahead on the problems they’re supposed to be working through, caught in that in-between of being too good for regular math and not good enough for honors. As she looks at the curled-up bottom portion of his notebook, she senses Sev glaring daggers at her from across the room. Perfect.

From what? she writes back, letters neat and compact. James reads it almost immediately and takes a long time to respond.

The evil eye that Snivellus is giving me right now.

Ha, ha.

A smile spills out of the corner of his mouth as he writes back. Are you two involved in some sort of torrid love affair I didn’t know about? Am I making him #jelly?

That hashtag made me throw up in my mouth a little. She pauses, pencil flicking against the desk. She knows he’s watching, knows Sev is watching, and so she picks up the paper again and adds, and no, I am not involved with Sev. Would rather make out with Tony the Squid.

His smile widens, now, and she catches it in her peripheral vision. Not our school mascot. That’s too far, Evans.

It occurs to Lily that she’s acting exactly like elementary school James would. She’s laughing about Sev. Her past self would be disappointed.

But her past self didn’t know what Sev would become. She angles her body more towards James, away from her former best friend’s skin-crawling stare.

***

James sits with her again the next math class, and the one after that, too. She knows things about him, now: knows that he doodles soccer balls in the margins of his notebook; knows that he can’t stop moving, and sometimes when he’s bored of tapping his pencil he’ll tap his foot against her chair leg, unconsciously; knows that he has a little scar on his neck; knows that he can make her laugh with one passed note; knows that he still hates Sev as much as he did in eighth grade.

Lily’s the first to step into the math classroom today; or, at least, she thinks she is, until she spots Sev hovering near her seat, muttering to himself under his breath. Lily steels herself and walks by him, pointedly ignoring him as she slips into her chair.

“Lil —”

“Don’t call me that,” she says immediately, and glances towards the door. She’s forgotten what it feels like to be alone with Sev: like she’s been stripped bare, vulnerable, underneath all the layers of hatred and hurt.

Sev huffs, haughtily, in a way that’s so quintessentially him that it causes Lily physical pain. “You’re blowing it all out of proportion. I was looking at the situation from a purely economic perspective—”

“You were being fucking racist, Sev, and you know it,” she snaps, trying and failing to calm down. So easy, she is. The same conversation, every time: the same circles ran, with no ground lost or gained.

Sev opens his mouth to argue back, but before he can, a new voice cuts in.

“Should’ve known I’d find you here,” says James, speaking in a way she’s forgotten that he’s capable of: sharp, sharp as cut glass.

“This has nothing to do with you, Potter,” Sev says stiffly, gaze settling on James, who in turn looks at Lily, brow furrowed.

“You’re in my seat, Snivellus.”

Sev’s face turned red. “It was my seat first.”

“Then I guess it depends on what Lily wants.”

They both turn towards her, and this is where I get to choose, Lily realizes, with a startling burst of clarity. She knows she doesn’t want Sev, doesn’t want him near her, doesn’t want him begging for forgiveness with crocodile tears; she sucks in a breath, says, “That’s James’s seat.”

James smiles, just for a second, then slides into the seat next to her and starts to take out his math notebook. Sev stands, watching them, hands curled into fists; Lily can’t meet his eyes. Yes, he’s virtually unrecognizable from his childhood self, but rejection — rejection for James? James, who had made his early years a living hell?

She stares at the desk until she hears Sev’s retreating footsteps, knowing that to glance up and see the look of anguish on his face would make her feel even worse.

“Glad we got rid of Snivellus, huh, Evans?” James whispers, and he’s too close, sitting next to her with his pencil already tapping against the desk, a hand wafting through his hair. Lily feels like a child again, except this time she’s chosen the wrong side. She’s one of them now. Sev will never speak to her again.

Isn’t that what she wants? He’s a terrible person; she doesn’t long for his friendship. Still, a part of her — a very small part of her — wants him to want her. Another wave of revulsion consumes her; for a moment, she just stares at James, wondering how she’s gotten here. “I’m not like you, James.”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

She could yell at him. She could ask him why, all those years ago, he felt it necessary to call Sev Snivellus, to joke about his greasy hair and unwashed clothes, to ensure that he’d have no friends save Lily.

But in this moment, Lily’s more angry at herself. So instead, she turns towards the front of the classroom, hoping to find some sort of respite in calculus.

Sev doesn’t approach her again, after that.

***

Texts with Roger Davies, Tuesday, October 27th, 9:33pm

Roger: did you get rodriguez’s approval for the theme?

Lily: yeah, we’re all set!

Roger: okay great

Roger: i’m so glad that we’re finally done with that process

Roger: james was being so annoying about choosing it

Lily: lol i thought he was funny. and it didn't derail us that much

(Lily doesn’t know where that instinct comes from, the one that tells her to defend James’s honor. Maybe she knows, in her heart of hearts, that he’d do the same for her, without question, because that’s just the kind of person he is. Maybe she imagines him in math class, tapping his pencil against his desk, focused but also not, a reassuring presence. Maybe the image in her head is shifting from the boy he once was to the boy that now sits next to her every day: the one who lets her fight her own battles, the one who doesn’t push her, the one who didn’t ask about Sev after their last encounter. She can’t be sure of it yet, but maybe she’s actually starting to enjoy his company — that is, when she forgets about the past eight years of her life.)

(Or, maybe, she thinks, as she lies down on her bed, watching the bubbles on her phone pop up and disappear over and over again, she knows that disagreeing with Roger will extend their conversation.)

Roger: james is always like that tho

Lily: really? he’s been pretty good lately i thought

Roger: always wants things his way

Roger: idk i shouldn’t be talking about this

Lily: lol

Roger: it’s just that ur nice to talk to

(Roger’s never said that to her before. She wonders if it’s because she really is nice to talk to, or if it’s because she’s just there.)

Lily: lol thanks

Roger: and i feel like i can trust you

(He’s never said that to her before, either. They’ve never really spoken about non-yearbook related things. She doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly acting like they’re friends. She can’t say she doesn’t enjoy the familiarity — this is Roger, after all, and any relationship gain with him is a good one — but she feels blindsided. It was October until people burst into her room telling her it’s Christmas, and now she’s just confused.)

Lily: yeah you can trust me

Roger: cool i’m glad

seen by Lily at 9:46pm (there’s nothing more to say).

***

Texts with Roger Davies, Tuesday, October 27th, 9:50pm

Roger: can i ask you a question

Lily: fire away

Roger: are you coming to the halloween thing this weekend

Lily: yeah was planning on it

Lily: why

Roger: cool maybe i’ll see you there

(Oh.)

(It’s Christmas morning in October. It’s Christmas morning in October.)

(Lily doesn't know much about high school relationships, hookups or otherwise, but she does know this: if a boy asks a girl if she's coming to a party, he did it for a reason. And that reason is usually not so that they can discuss the yearbook.)

Lily: yeah see you there

(There's nothing more to do but wait.)

part three

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

soulmates

i can’t believe i woke up two hours earlier to write for some 2d boy’s birthday-

this isn’t a soulmate au i’m sorry

pairing: shirabu x reader

i.

Shirabu Kenjirou doesn’t believe in soulmates, because by extension, that’d mean that things such as luck and miracles and even Santa would also exist. He likes to think that his hours of studying and sheer grit are the reasons that he was accepted into Shiratorizawa. What he lacks in talent, he’ll make up with his efforts and his efforts only; he doesn’t need something silly like magic, especially when said magic couldn’t come through when he needed it the most.

He replays the memory of Karasuno’s 10 over and over again in his mind, even after the third years have said their goodbyes. He remembers it all, the fatigue in his body, the lead of his legs, and the noise of the ball thudding up and down on their side of the court. He wonders what would happen if magic had really existed. Would he have been able to react faster then and save the ball?

Shirabu doesn’t like mulling over the past since it’s a waste of his time, but sometimes when he’s studying by himself, too tired to think straight, he finds himself zoning out. It’s not good for him, and he knows it, focusing too keenly on all his weaknesses and trying to find a way to fix them, but he can’t help it. Because he doesn’t believe in miracles, he only has himself.

If he’s feeling a little generous, though, maybe he’d consider you a little magical.

You’ve seen him around on campus, always studying alone by a corner and wearing a terrible scowl when someone got too loud or tried to pester him. Between majoring in sciences and the volleyball club, you realize two things: he’s an incredibly hard worker, and you’ve definitely been looking at him too much to know these things without ever having a proper conversation with him. There was just something admirable about the way he carried himself and how he’d always be working hard without complaining about being tired.

He’s quite the frequent customer at the cafe where you part-time at, and you’re not surprised. Someone with his lifestyle would need gallons of coffee to keep going, but you don’t think he’s there for the coffee. Perhaps it’s the quiet atmosphere where he can study. Maybe he’s escaping from a particularly loud roommate, or maybe the library seats are all taken. You don’t know for sure, but what you do realize is that he definitely at least knows of your existence with his short and curt nods for greeting. If you got lucky, he’d give you a quiet “Hey.”

He gets you worried. Sometimes, he’d be hunched over at his seat but without the usually concentrated furrow of his brow or his moving pen and graceful, yet quick flip of textbook pages. He’d just be staring blankly at the table, an expression unreadable, and he’d stay like that for moments at a time before shaking his head in frustration, pushing himself to his limit to go back to work. It’s hard to watch, and you almost wish you could do something, but you don’t. Not when he knew you just as the barista that went to the same university. You’d hate to pry.

It’s not until on one particularly dreary day that he walks in without so much as a nod that you realize the problem is larger than you feared it was. By now, he’s used to just handing over his cash, knowing well that you memorized his regular order, and as you turn around to grab a mug, you hear him clatter into a seat in the corner, sighing. The burst of freak courage that rushes through you almost makes you walk right up to him and ask what’s wrong, but you steel yourself. He hated being disturbed out of nowhere.

You place his coffee gently on a tray, sliding a piece of tiramisu on it as well before walking quietly over to his table. He doesn’t seem to take notice of you, hand running through his hair and staring a little bit too hard at the formulas taunting him on the paper. Silently, you leave his order on the table and leave without a word.

By the time Shirabu realizes that his coffee has long gone cold and that there’s an extra plate that he doesn’t remember paying for, you’re already gone, leaving your shift to someone else. He sits there, confused. Then, he spots a little slip of paper and reaches for it.

“You’re always working so hard, so I’m sure it’ll pay off. Don’t worry too much about setbacks, and remember to breathe! Also, I’m not sure if you like sweets or not, but don’t worry about the tiramisu. It’s on the house!”

Shirabu isn’t the kind of person to enjoy desserts; the sugar makes him crash sooner than he’d like, and it isn’t exactly good for his health. He’d much prefer something salty over something sweet, but after thinking a bite, he reconsiders. He doesn’t like it that much, but for some reason, he finds himself eating all of it. It’s good, but not because of the taste. He wants to know exactly why, but he’s reminded once more that he has a math examen tomorrow along with a paper due.

The following afternoon, Shirabu walks into the cafe and spares you not one word, but four.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking away. His cheeks are slightly tinted, and he hopes you don’t notice. “Thanks for yesterday.”

ii.

Shirabu doesn’t believe in magic, because it’s unexplainable and unreliable. You’re close to half-magic because while you’re not entirely unreliable, your effect on him is absolutely unexplainable. It throws him in for a loop.

The first instance of your unpredictability is when the two of you are paired as lab partners. That gets things going between you two, exchanging numbers and talking more frequently than usual. Now instead of, “Hey,” he says, “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” or, “Are you still up?” to you. It’s exciting, and you hope that he considers you a friend at the very least.

On Shirabu’s part, he finds that your energy is a good counter to the tired mornings he so often faces, and when you give him your signature smile, he feels his heart buzzing. He reasons that it’s because you’re such a breath of fresh air; it’s not often that he lets someone loud but not annoying into his life considering that his past experiences with energetic people were subpar. He likes being lab partners with you because you do your fair share, and he knows he can count on you during the rare times he needs help, and vice versa. You’re like the perfect fit for him, covering for his weaknesses, while he covered for yours.

He used to hate late nights of doing work since his eyes always got tired from staring endlessly at a screen of words and nothing more, but now they’re not so bad. He’ll find himself calling you if he knows you’re up, enjoying the sound of your whispers, as you’re afraid to wake your neighbors up at the dead of night. Sometimes the two of you exchange playful banter, and he’ll feel the weight being lifted off his shoulders, even if temporarily.

He enjoys a lot of things about you, and he almost finds it strange how even the smallest things you do get him a little bit happy. Just a little. Whenever you’re proofreading his essays, he finds that your comments, while still very helpful, are filled with energy. He used to think that exclamation marks were just a way to convey false energy in work and formal emails, but when he sees his paper littered with just hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, he can’t help but crack into a small smile over how silly it is. If you leave small doodles on the margin of his papers from when the two of you study together during lunch breaks or in between classes, he’ll always look at them fondly for a while before filing them neatly away.

He knows you’re busy as well, but after the first time he sees you wait for him outside of the gym for practice to end with coffee in hand, he begins to anticipate your appearance more and more. He likes how you don’t mind that he walks out disheveled, sweaty, and maybe cranky depending on how practice went, and his heart will always flutter if you comment on how good his sets were. You don’t know a thing about volleyball, and he’s probably aware of the fact, but when words like, “Cool,” or “Graceful,” flow out of your mouth, he thinks he must be going crazy. He feels like Goshiki getting all happy over just small praises and desperately wishes that he could stop being so lame.

“You don’t have to come by so often, you know,” he says one day even though he wants to ask you to stop by the gym every day. “You must be busy too, right?”

“I just study outside the benches while I’m waiting for you, so it’s not like I’m wasting my time,” you respond back, walking with an extra spring in your step. Whenever Shirabu walked you back to your apartment, you were always on Cloud 9.

He doesn’t say anything after and opts to revel in the comfortable silence that sits between you too. He wonders if you like being with a guy like him, someone so serious, so boring, and so critical of others. He’s blunt about almost everything, and he’s the driest texter alive according to Tendou. A part of him worries that you’ll get bored with such a bland and severe personality, and he’s not sure if you’re hurt by his directness. He thinks about other people that could probably serve as a better companion, and when he starts realizing how long the list is, he feels a bit of fear in his stomach.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, quick to pick up whether or not Shirabu’s silence meant content or discomfort. He appreciates it a lot.

“No,” he says quickly. You take it as a sign to drop the topic. He’d tell you later if he felt like it, and if he didn’t, it wasn’t a big deal. You’d help him cheer up without knowing what was wrong anyways.

“Today, there was this customer that walked in,” you start again, moving your arms slightly for emphasis in your story. Shirabu finds it endearing, but then he catches himself thinking it and comes to a frightful realization in the middle of your story.

Magic doesn’t exist, but love does. Shirabu doesn’t understand either of them.

iii.

In another world, if Shirabu did believe in magic and wished for his other half, he thinks they’d be exactly like you.

Still, he’s not entirely convinced that magic in this world exists, no matter how many times you make him watch all the Harry Potter movies with you. He needs a miracle to help him put into words how much he loves you because he thinks that by now, he should’ve said the L-word a long time ago, or at least enough to match how often you say it to him. It never loses its effect, though, and it always makes him flustered.

“Love you,” you’ll say to him randomly when the two of you are alone, and his face will go beet red.

“Me too,” is all he’ll be able to manage, but he wishes so desperately that he can return those same words one day.

You don’t really need him to verbalize it, though. He’s the type of person who shows his affection physically whether it’s running his fingers through your hair when you’re feeling down or gently squeezing your hand in public. His hugs are warm, and while it was a little awkward and stiff at first, they’re more relaxed and frequent now. You like how he’ll let you rest on his chest after a hard day and how he’d never let you go until he’s more than convinced that you’re fine. Whenever he brushes away your tears with a stray thumb, you feel all your worries and anxieties disappear.

In return, you’ll practically pull his figure into you whenever he comes home feeling frustrated or upset, resting his head at the crook of your neck while rubbing circles on his back. You let him vent, and after hours of him explaining to you how pathetic he finds himself, you’ll kiss him until he’s all better. In truth, he doesn’t think he deserves the love you give him, especially when he feels as if he can’t return it back tenfold despite trying his hardest.

It’s late at night like it usually is when he’s studying. You had gone to bed hours before, so it surprises him when he hears the bedroom door creak open and the shuffling of your feet against the floor. He turns his head around from his laptop, taking off his glasses and rubbing his dry eyes before giving you a proper look with the tilt of his head.

“You should be asleep,” he murmurs rather guiltily. “I’ll be in bed soon.”

“That’s what you always say,” you chuckle, voice tired. You rub your eyes too before taking a seat right next to him on the couch. “Still studying?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, moving an arm so that you can wrap your arms around his side and rest your head against his body. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise-“

“No, it’s all good.” Your eyes scan across the website he’s looking at, and you almost gag at the wall of words. “We can take a long nap together this weekend. After you ace your exam.”

He smiles softly, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss on your cheek before returning his attention back to the screen. He’d prefer it if you fell asleep back in bed, not because you’re distracting, but because he knows how the screen light distracts you from dozing off comfortably. You don’t seem to be willing to let go, though, and he isn’t going to tell you to leave him when he desperately wants you by his side at all times.

“Why don’t I read some of it to you?” you offer, stifling a yawn. You hear him laugh quietly and frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says quietly, caressing the side of your face. You lean into his touch. “It’s just that…you know that I’ll get distracted if you start reading to me, right? I’d probably fall asleep.”

“That’s the point.” He rolls his eyes playfully, pressing another kiss, this time on your nose because he can’t help himself. “I think you’re already pretty distracted right now, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” His voice is low and tired, but content, and you enjoy how it vibrates from his chest. You see him eyeing your lips more and more at each word you speak, and you have to hold in your smirk. “I need to recharge for a bit.”

Setting aside his laptop, he bends down to press his lips against yours, pulling your body close to his. He feels your fingers run through his hair and against his scalp, tempting him to further the kiss. You’re the one to pull away first much to his dismay, and he lets out a quiet whine as you look and admire the red mess that you’ve turned Shirabu into.

“I’ll let you recharge more after you’re done working,” you tease, grinning. He breaks into a smile and reaches back for his computer, making a sound of agreement.

“I’ll be done soon, love.”

Shirabu doesn’t trust magic. Miracles and wishes and made up spells are silly figments of childhood imagination. Soulmates, though, he thinks, may be closer to reality than he had initially thought. He can’t say he minds it.

[hanadolphieron]

lunar artist!yeojin; chapter three~

warnings; space battles, yeojin and reader have beef now

genre; sci-fi, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst

pairing; im yeojin x gender neutral!reader

word count; 2.3k

summary; your small crater town on the moon was rarely visited. one day, artist!yeojin travels all the way from mars to paint the serene, wistful scenery of your planet.

-----------------------------------------------------------

after the two of you suffered through that exhaustingly awkward moment, you both headed up to bed.

you gave yeojin your bed and snatched the sofa next to it. you could keep an eye on her that way.

not that she would attempt anything.

but you never know.

she might attack the fish who bit her and exact revenge.

and that would not end well.

yeojin sets on a solo adventure to find the bathroom, and you, completely oblivious to her quest, shuffle around the kitchen, cleaning up the small mess made by the pretzels.

she fails, somehow, and comes wandering back towards you. 

“where is the bathroom?” 

not saying a word, you lead her to it. 

“ah.”

“yeah. you can shower if you want to, all that dancing must have tired out your small legs.”

“hey! i’m not that short!” she says, reaching out to smack your arm. however, you’re too fast, and scramble like an egg into your room before she can catch you. 

you hear the bathroom door close. you’re safe. for now.

sitting on your bed, you write. jotting down notes about your emotions, what you’ve felt throughout the day, random doodles, it’s what you do when you’re bored.

you’ve never felt embarrassed that you do this, i mean technically your job is being a writer, considering your journalist occupation. although your company hasn’t communicated with you in, let’s see, 3 months? yeah. 

however, now that someone else is around you, you feel like you have to hide it a little. it reminds you of the way you’d feel when you were a kid, all nervous because their crush is near them, and they just have to impress them.

no idea why you feel like this around yeojin. it’s not like she’ll judge you. i mean, she will, but the connection between the two of you is already too strong to completely break, despite it only having been a week since you met.

thinking of yeojin seems to manifest her somehow, and she appears in your doorway.

“good evening,” you say.

she nods and mobilizes towards the bed. flinging herself upon it, you flinch back a little, still not used to fast-paced moves.

now that yeojin is settled, (although there is a lot of rustling) you lay back on the sofa, curled up in a fluffy blanket and a surplus of pillows. 

you used to sleep out under the stars, but you’ve grown so used to seeing them that they don’t bring the same kind of magic they used to. it’s pretty sad, honestly, that beauty seems to disappear after a while. 

yeojin breaks into your thoughts, “you said we could go ice-skating.”

she doesn’t phrase it as a question, but you know what she means.

“let’s go then,” you respond, effortlessly dragging yourself up from your den and treading barefooted through the house.

yeojin follows, her feet tapping quietly against the floor. 

going into the edge of the door, you look at the ice skates. you have two pairs. one for you, obviously, you do live here. the other one you bought in a romantic mood, hopelessly yearning for some long-lost love to come find you and ask you to dance on the frozen lake under the stars.

right now, the time has come for them to serve their purpose. not exactly how you were expecting it, but nevertheless, there is a, well, i guess you’d call yeojin a “love interest” wanting to ice-skate with you under the frosting of sparkles shimmering above.

yeojin reaches down, snatching the pair you just mentioned. wordlessly, you take your pair.

you go outside into the freezing air, which is more or less not even air. both of you are barefoot, having just gotten out of bed and neither of you are hooligans and sleep with socks on.

you don’t complain, neither does yeojin. she’s used to the hot atmosphere of mars, so it’s surprising she doesn’t react to the cold, but then again she’s also used to concealing emotions and being a warrior rivalling the spartans.

once you’re at the edge of the icy lake, you plop down on the ground and slide the skates on. yeojin does the same.

“i’ve never skated before,” she says.

“as expected. well, it’s okay, i’ll catch you if you fall,” you tell her, giving an easy smile.

you, on the other hand, are excellent at skating. it’s one of the only activities you’ve been able to enjoy here, and you’ve certainly spent lots of time on it. 

standing up, you start off without yeojin. i mean come on, you need to impress her at least once.

starting off with your left foot, you move up to a soft, swift pace. 

gliding across the ice, you swirl and pirouette in the air, landing on one of your feet, spinning.

you don’t look back at yeojin. instead, you quickly skate across the long side of the lake, going faster than yeojin ever thought was possible with ease. 

after performing a few more jumps, and even skating backwards for some of them, you slide back over to yeojin.

she’s standing there, wobbling a little, and practically falls over once she sees you heading towards her.

“wow, that was, woah, i,” she’s speechless.

you laugh a little, reveling in your moment of glory. taking her hand, (which is pretty brave for you) and help her onto the ice.

her small figure keeps the amount of imbalance to a minimum, and she seems to have pretty good control over her limbs, so the first few steps go well.

unfortunately, yeojin loses her footing after attempting to go faster, and flails backwards, almost bringing you with her.

however, your confidence on the ice and long arms stop her.

you catch her.

she’s now being held bridal style in your arms.

this is, well, one of the best things you’ve ever experienced. you’ve never held a girl like this, and wow does it feel nice.

she’s pretty light, and is floating in your hold.

her hair is soft, and it brushes up against your skin, making you shiver and giggle as it tickles you.

you’re not as awkward as when you’re on solid land, and manage to lift yeojin upright, still holding her hand.

she seems flustered, her cheeks dusted with a light layer of pink dust, matching the sigil on her forehead.

this seems to boost yeojin’s confidence, and her nerves disappear knowing she has a knight in shining armor ready to catch her if she falls.

going faster this time, yeojin squeaks along the ice, struggling in places, but she seems to be getting the hang of it.

“can i try one of those twirl things?” she asks you. her impulsiveness never fails to surprise you.

“no,” you chuckle, “but we can do this.”

you turn towards her, lifting one of her hands up. yeojin stares up at you, confused. 

“turn,” you whisper. 

she gets the memo, and awkwardly lifting one foot up, attempts a turn. 

you guide her through it. luckily, her hair doesn’t smack you in the face, you were a bit afraid of that.

the stars glitter above you, a constant reminder of your miniscule existence. it’s comforting somehow.

but right now you don’t feel small.

you feel bigger than you’ve ever felt before. like you’re more than just flesh with an intelligent, imaginative mind.

you’re part of something else, a feeling, an emotion, an act, you’re not sure. 

but you feel alive. and that’s all that matters.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“ehg,” a groan awakens you from a deep slumber.

yeojin is conscious, and ready to take on the world.

not really though, she seems a bit lost actually.

blinking and grumbling to herself, she sits up, blankets strangling her.

you watch her, one eye open.

“i have a plan,” she says suddenly, and with a massive burst of energy, leaps out of bed.

“ow,” she growls at herself, having damaged her ankle from the excitement of her actions. 

continuing on to the kitchen, completely unaware of the fact that you are awake, and does not care. 

she is hungry, and needs food.

you follow her, dragging yourself out of bed much slower than her gymnastics-worthy jump.

she’s already gotten into the pantry. you shove her to the side, looking in yourself. she flings open the other door and pushes you over.

grabbing a box of cereal, you sit down. yeojin snatches another one, than looks in the fridge, snatching a bowl and spoon on her way there. you don’t ask how she knows where all your cutlery is. probably guessed.

sitting down, gobbling up her food with the same repulsive but somehow endearing way of munching, she finishes off the bowl in no time. 

you expect her to make another one, but instead she licks her lips, looks at you and asks, “no milk?”

“huh?”

“you’re not having milk with your cereal.”

“milk is a drink and i can’t believe you eat it as a gravy.”

“well. i don’t agree.”

“sucks for you.”

“no it doesn’t. i have nice, soft cereal and you have crunchy cruanchy cereal.”

“you mean i have a beautiful, crisp breakfast and you have a mushy swamp.”

“no. that wasn’t what i meant.”

you open your mouth to retort, but she continues, “i have a plan.”

“oh wow. would you like to explain it?”

“no.”

“fine,” you say, but barely get a chance to spit the word out before being dragged to your feet.

“hey, what are you-”

yeojin pulls you towards the door. you follow her. what’s the worst that could happen?

‘wait here.”

“okay,” you comply, exhausted. how come sleep just makes you more tired? you were much more energetic last night, retreating to your bed with a wide smile on your face, eyes looking up at the ceiling, unable to close without seeing the adventures of the evening.

you wait. and wait. 

you hear an engine start. 

wait- you hear an engine start? you don’t have a vehicle? who? what? where? when? why? how? 

flying around the corner, yeojin, with a helmet, boots, and a whole driver’s outfit, sits atop some sort of mechanical thingo that you have never seen in your life.

you stand there, dumfounded.

“wha- where did you get that?”

“built it.”

“what do you mean you built it?! how? how talented are you?!”

“eh,” she says, shrugging her shoulders, “i’m made for this type of stuff.”

she are speechless and continue to stand there.

“well?” she asks, “are you coming?”

“we’re going somewhere?” you have no idea what is going on.

“yeah, that was my plan.”

“where are we going,” you are already moving toward her, sitting behind her, holding onto her back.

“somewhere,” she says. you can’t see her face now, but you’re sure she’s smirking.

before you’ve even a tiny bit situated, yeojin accelerates, throwing you to the side. you are left clinging onto her waist for dear life.

you can’t see much of the scenery flying past around you, but you think yeojin is going north, towards the lunar capital, bexyim.

still wondering how yeojin managed to find the parts to make an whatever this is, i mean it’s so fast? how did she do this? you don’t have any oil either? this madwoman is more powerful than you thought.

you gaze out to the side. something catches your eye. fire.

“wait, yeojin, stop!” you yell, your voice getting lost in the wind. she halts the vehicle, throwing you forward. you get out, looking up at the sky.

“what is that,” you say to yourself, not even realizing you’re speaking.

“come on,” yeojin says, sounding urgent, like she doens’t want you too see what’s happening, “we should go, i’m sure it’s nothing.”

but you stay there, looking up at the stars. this time, they’re not alone.

burning metal flies down to the surface of the moon a few miles away from you. you can smell the smoke from here.

it’s coming from up above. from a battle.

the sounds of laser and missiles hurts your ears. there are ships firing at each other, sending one another down to the ground, ruthlessly destroying each other.

and the colors. you know them well. silver and red. moon and mars. and the last silver one just fell.

you turn around, looking at yeojin. this is why she tried to get you to look away. away from the way her planet is murdering yours.

“this? this is what your planet is doing?” you glare at her.

“it’s not my fault, y/n, how could i stop this?” yeojin says defensively.

“why did you leave so early last week?” you question. it’s all piecing together now. the sigil on her forehead isn’t just a mark of the marsians. it’s a mark of the marsian warriors.

“i- y/n i don’t have a choice!” you don’t listen, already turning away. 

yeojin, the girl you were falling in love with, is fighting against your planet. the one you live on. the one where she is standing right now.

you start running. you don’t know where you going. but you have to get away from her.

you can’t believe it. there you were, falling in love with a person who is actively taking part in the long-standing oppression of your planet. 

you should have known better. marsians are always like that. never valuing peace. never caring about other’s lives, only worrying about themselves.

you go faster, heading towards bexyim. you can see the skyline over the burning horizon. it looks dark, darker than when you first saw it. 

it always happens like this. the “love of your life” betrays you and you run. escape from people and the disappointments they bring. 

this time, you’re escaping someone different. someone who you never thought would betray you, she had a warmer feel, one that didn’t seem manipulative, it felt honest.

but you still run.

and yeojin doesn’t bother to come after you.

----------------------------------------------------------- 

masterlist ~ previous ~ next

[whereyoursoulresides]

Without Words II - Our Orbiting Paths, Chapter 1

Summary: In their third life, Kunzite has finally won the heart of Zoisite’s civilian reincarnation, Kozakura Izou. However, as their lives become progressively more intertwined, certain challenges begin to crop up… Between the stresses of work, adjusting to modern expectations, and old familiar faces flashing from the shadows, can Kunzite maintain a meaningful relationship with his partner successfully?

Rating: T+

Characters Featured in Fic: Kunzite, Zoisite, Nephrite, Jadeite, Naru, Umino

Chapter Summary: It's been a few months of dating now, and Kunzite thinks they're ready to take it to the next step.

AO3 Link Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826732/chapters/68145631#workskin

“Oh, you should’ve seen it, Kunihiro-sama,” the voice was saying over the phone. “Absolutely atrocious, I had never seen anything like it!”

“Hmn,” was all Kunzite said, albeit with a bit of a smile. He didn���t usually have much opinion on the matters of Izou’s latest gossip, but he was happy to hear Izou talk about anything at all. He took another bite of his dinner - plain white rice and grilled salmon. “And then?”

“Oh, I took myself right out of that business,” Izou continued, and Kunzite could just imagine his curls frazzedly waving in exasperation.

“It sounds like you might be out-growing that coffee shop,” was Kunzite’s observation.

Izou huffed over the phone. “Entirely possible. The staff is completely different now. Honestly, Kunihiro-sama, these new girls, sometimes their attitude is just appal- ow! ”

Kunzite quickly pushed some loose grains of rice past his lips. “Mn. Izou? Are you alright?”

There was a little hiss, and then a whine.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Izou answered. “Just a prick, that’s all.” The words came out mumbly as Kunzite could hear him suck on his finger. “Shoot, that smarts!”

Kunzite shook his head fondly. “Be careful,” he chided as he began to clean up the remnants of his dinner. He had about another five minutes of his break left. “Perhaps we shouldn’t chat if you need to concentrate...”

“Mn, oh no!” Izou insisted. The sound of the phone being adjusted to his ear cackled over the receiver. “At any rate, what time are you finishing tonight, Kunihiro-sama?”

“Late,” Kunzite answered. He glanced at the clock. “About midnight, I think.”

“Oh.” Izou sounded disappointed. “It’s been so long…”

It had perhaps only been a week since they'd last seen each other in person, but to both it had felt like an eternity. Between Kunzite’s long and odd working hours at the precinct and Izou’s equally erratic shifts at the coffee shop, it was difficult to set a real date time consistently, and every window of opportunity was never wasted. Although they chatted every night (and occasionally stumbled to work from either other’s homes), it seemed that their craving for the other’s physical presence was only growing exponentially by the day.

“I know,” Kunzite said kindly. He missed Izou too.

Izou seemed to gather up some strength. “Were you able to eat? You’ve mentioned before it’s tricky to get a meal in sometimes…”

Kunzite threw the plastic container out into the garbage under the sink.

“I managed to grab something. Although I must be hanging up soon, Izou…”

“Oh, okay,” Izou said in a rush. “Well, um, maybe I could drop by tomorrow, before my shift? I start late in the afternoon…”

Kunzite smiled. “That’d be lovely. Whatever works for you.”

“Okay.” Izou paused as though to say something pressing, but Kunzite chalked it up to their usual anxieties of never wanting to hang up. “Take care,” he finally said.

Kunzite tilted his head warmly.

“You as well. Chat soon.”

After hanging up the phone, Kunzite finished tidying up the break room and returned to his desk. In one corner stood the small rosebush that Izou had managed to resurrect. It was Kunzite’s pride and joy in the office, a perfect reminder in lieu of their photo from the Dark Kingdom. As he settled himself amongst his papers and computers, he thought briefly of how lucky he was. It was so surreal to think that this was where they - he and Izou -  were now.

In the past few months, Izou’s memories of his third life had rapidly solidified, and it had been fascinating to Kunzite to learn everything about Kozakura Izou. His parents - a concept that Kunzite was still struggling to come to terms with - lived in the countryside, on a small, modest farm. His mother was an artist, and his father was a photographer. Izou himself had moved to Tokyo at age fourteen to better his schooling and career opportunities. In between part time work and school, Izou loved to read, thrift, garden, and shop. His creativity energy would burst into little endeavours - sketches, doodles, collages - and was increasingly weaving into his sense of style and fashion. It wasn’t uncommon for Kunzite to hear a little yelp or hiss over the phone as he had earlier- followed by the endearing dismayed whine - from sewing accidents wherein Izou had stabbed himself at his fingertips. As Kunzite flipped through his briefing updates in his hands, he wondered which project Izou had been working on today, and if he would be seeing it soon.

“Saitou-san.”

Kunzite glanced up to see a younger officer leaning over the corner of his cubicle. He was holding two folders in one hand, while the other was scratching his head under his cap. Behind him, Kunzite caught a glimpse of the civilian as she left the precinct, her dark auburn hair swinging behind her.

“Yes, Kobayashi-san?”

“I just got another statement about the nondescript white van. That makes five so far.”

“No attacks?”

“None, just trailing.” Kobayashi scrunched up his nose. “It’s hard to get an idea though on where to begin. No identifiable markings, and none of the license plates line up. Still seems worth investigating.”

Kunzite’s eyes drifted to the other folder. “And the other case?”

“Mn? Oh. Just another sighting of the cargo truck with the black star. No attacks yet this week, but it’s definitely suspicious.” He looked at Kunzite sheepishly. “I guess you’ll probably want the more exciting one, huh?”

If it was one thing Kunzite knew very well, it was patterns. And he knew what would follow the cargo truck with the black star all too well.

“I’ll take the van,” he said curtly, taking the folder.

The younger officer grinned in excitement, holding the remaining case to his chest.

“Maybe this means I’ll get to meet a Sailor Senshi…!”

“I think you have much more pressing concerns than that,” Kunzite said crossly. He gestured to some of the boxes stacked up at the farthest wall of the precinct. “Why don’t you start setting those up instead.”

Flushing embarrassedly, Kobayashi straightened immediately.

“Yes sir!”

As the younger officer hurried off to set up the precinct’s newest surveillance testing program, Kunzite shook his head. Although he was the senior officer, occasionally Kunzite felt more like an unofficial mother hen than a leader. Quickly, he brushed the thought aside and returned to his paperwork with a sigh.

And when else had he felt like that before…?

---

It had been a long night. While his precinct also technically dealt with thefts, burglaries, and other emergencies, Kunzite found the public-facing aspect of his job far more draining. Although he usually could leave it to the younger officers, the fact remained that most of them still needed guidance and training, which Kunzite had to deliver. By the time he climbed his way up to the top floor of his low-rise apartment, Kunzite’s stomach was rumbling, and he was ready to hit the hay.

However, upon arriving at his door, Kunzite was greeted by a little surprise that woke him right up.

“Izou?”

The young man had been sitting by the door, shrouded in a thick winter jacket with a backpack to his side. Seeing Kunzite, he jumped to his feet. “Kunihiro-sama, welcome home!” It was the biggest grin Kunzite had seen all day.

Despite himself, Kunzite couldn’t help but reflect a slightly confused smile back. He gently laid a hand on the small of Izou’s back. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Izou assured, lifting what looked like a large stack of lunch boxes wrapped in a spring green cloth. “I thought you could use something heartier so late after dinner time,” he said cheerfully. “It’s just some takeout, but…”  His cheeks glowed faintly. “But...I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

As Kunzite inserted his key, he had to do his best to keep from growing into a ridiculous grin. Izou was just so sweet and thoughtful.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Kunzite finally said, as the bolt unlocked. Izou glanced up uncertainty.

“Was it too forward of me?” he asked.

Kunzite finally let the fondness of his smile show, and gently nudged Izou into the door.

“Not at all.” I’ve missed you too. “Please. Come in.”

Splitting into a grin, Izou slipped off his shoes and leapt inside. As he got settled and began to unpack the food, Kunzite’s smile faded when he realized how late it truly was. One in the morning, and while his area was safer than Izou’s neighbourhood, the city could still be a very dangerous beast at this hour.

“How long were you waiting for?” he asked as he slid out of his own shoes, watching Izou for any indication of polite refrain.

“Oh, not long,” Izou answered merrily, now plating the food into bowls. He gathered up the paper and plastic and swirled around to throw them into the garbage, not noticing Kunzite’s knitting brows.

“Izou.”

The boy paused for a moment to look up at Kunzite hesitantly. “About an hour,” he answered quickly. “But I knew you might be late so I brought a book, so it’s okay, really.” He then returned to cleaning up and setting the kettle for some tea.

Kunzite glanced down at the key that was still in his hand, and made up his mind. As Izou began undoing the tea tin, Kunzite gently but protectively began to wrap his arms around the younger man’s waist, bringing him close to his chest. Izou was clearly delighted by the closeness and looked over his shoulder to shyly smile at Kunzite.

“The city can be dangerous this late at night,” Kunzite murmured quietly into Izou’s soft hair. “You should be more careful…”

Izou was obviously touched by Kunzite’s concern, and brushed it off. “I’m fine, I can take care of myself,” he insisted. He placed one of his own hands on Kunzite’s forearm. “Don’t worry.”

Of course Kunzite couldn’t help but worry, he’d been worrying about Izou even before he had met him in this life.  

“Maybe you should consider a different place to live,” Kunzite suggested. “Somewhere safer.”

Izou shrugged and began to swirl the tea leaves budding in the hot water. “Maybe once I have a little more money,” he agreed.

It took Kunzite a few moments to consider what his next words were going to be. Eventually, he pulled one arm away from Izou and placed the key, with purpose, onto the counter in Izou’s line of sight.

“I was thinking…” Kunzite mumbled softly, “that maybe you’d like to live with me.”

At first, Izou blinked at the piece of metal on the counter, not entirely sure if he was understanding, or had correctly caught what Kunzite had said. Unawares, Kunzite tightened his hug marginally, hoping that his suggestion wasn’t a step too far.

Slowly Izou turned his head around to look up at him. When Kunzite saw those big, bright and breathless eyes, he knew his fears were unfounded.

“Really?” Izou whispered, almost shyly. “You...think we’re ready for that?”

It was clear by Izou’s exhilarated whisper that he clearly was delighted to think they were, and Kunzite was definitely certain they were. Well, he was also certain because of how well he and Zoisite had lived together in the past… So, surely they were more than ready to move in together by now.

“Absolutely.”

It was clear Izou could hardly believe this turn of events, trying his best to hide the big grin Kunzite could tell was growing on his face. Finally, after rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, Izou beamed and nodded.

“Sure.”

It took nearly all of Kunzite’s willpower to not pick up Izou and swirl him around in his new home. Instead Kunzite simply broke into a smile again, followed by a short, relieved chuckle...Very quickly, the two of them were grinning and flushing together with excitement. Was this it? Were they really ready for this? It was as if both men were suppressing an armory of feeling that they were not yet ready to give words to, and giggling and laughing was the closest way they had to release the tension of mounting exhiliation that they were both trying to restrain.

“I’ll help you move in, the next time you’re free,” Kunzite said earnestly, seeing that he wasn’t alone in wanting to live together as soon as possible.

“I don’t have much stuff,” Izou replied, who couldn’t stop grinning behind his hands. “Although...I don’t have much money for my share of rent...”

“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” Kunzite reassured immediately. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Izou’s eyebrows stitched up together. “But...what about food?” He glanced around. “Utilities…”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Kunzite repeated again, firmly but gently. “I want to share my home with you. I want it to be our home. I’ll get everything ready.”

It was clear Izou couldn’t believe his luck. He was practically dancing into Kunzite’s arms when suddenly realization flickered across his face. Kunzite caught it instantly and his smile disappeared. “What is it?”

Izou didn’t say anything, but green eyes darted over to the bathroom. There was a moment of silence as both of them realized what Izou had just remembered... and Kunzite suddenly felt a bit awkward and unprepared.

“It’s okay,” he insisted, although he knew the memory of it wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Everything’s  been removed, I promise.”

Hesitantly Izou glanced up at Kunzite, and it was clear how conflicted he felt about the situation.

“It’s empty,” Kunzite insisted again. “You can fill it with your things when you move in. Izou’s things.”

This seemed to make Izou feel a bit better, and the smile slowly resurfaced back up a bit. “Well it’s...not like I didn’t like the stuff ,” he mumbled a bit. “I mean, I did like that stuff and I still do like it but...it was just a bit weird seeing it all there ready for you, you know?”

“I understand.” Kunzite gently gave Izou a bit of squeeze.

“Did you really throw it all out though?” Izou asked. “It would’ve been a waste...I suppose I wouldn’t mind using it if you still have it.”

At that, Kunzite paused. He had gotten rid of it from the bathroom, but hadn’t actually thrown the items out…

Izou looked up curiously. “Kunihiro-sama?”

“Truthfully?” Kunzite asked.

“Truthfully,” Izou answered, but the smile on his face gave away that he was going to be okay with whatever Kunzite answered.

“Don’t look in the closet.”

Despite himself, Izou couldn’t help but giggle, and Kunzite’s shoulders released with relief. As Izou tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, Kunzite glanced up at the clock and saw how even later it was getting.

“Let’s eat.” He slowly undid his arms around Izou and lightly grazed Izou’s cheek as he pulled away. “I’ll undress and we’ll have supper.”

“Wait.” Izou took a step forward and placed his hand on Kunztie’s chest to stop him. There was a moment, and Izou’s eyes slowly trailed up from the bottom of Kunzite’s uniform, from its hem to his belt, to finally his eyes. “...Keep them on?”

Kunzite could tell that look anywhere and, hiding a smirk, he obliged. Gathering the food from the counter, the two of them made their way over to the couch to settle in for some cozy dinner. As Izou made himself comfortable nestling in Kunzite’s arms as they flicked the television on, Kunzite couldn't help but relish this humble but incredible moment between them.

Zoisite was finally home.

[baby-n-boo]

Embrace Chapter 1

Roman was having a crisis, and he was trying his absolute best to make sure everybody knew about it. And that world-ending, catastrophic, scream-it-from-the-rooftops-crisis? He was bored. Clearly the most tragic thing that could ever have befallen anybody, ever, most of all the creative side. He had only recently been in the imagination, the twins' usual fix for the bone grindingly painful boredom. But, unfortunately, that meant he couldn't go back yet, needing to take time in the real world to detox from the hazy, sort of floaty feeling he always got from indulging in his own specific daydreams. Much to the detriment of the other three sides, trying to do their own thing in the common area, it meant a lot of listening to him mope about dramatically, and, in Virgil's case, occasionally dodging a sharp blade with practiced skill, as Roman swung it about listlessly. It wasn't exactly new, for the prince to have lulls in his activity availability, but usually his brother would be around to keep him entertained for the half an hour he usually had to wait. However, today, Remus was mysteriously absent, Jan having said he was taking a personal day, everyone being too scared to pry into what that exactly meant for the least predictable of the group. So, instead, Roman's fellow core sides were charged with keeping his blessing of a presence from tearing out his own hair. Pat was trying to uphold a conversation to distract him, having spread out some paper across the coffee table to doodle on, since three of the four had some sort of restless energy to expel in some way or another. But, when he was interrupted by Roman's bored groan for the fourth time, he stopped trying so hard, just picking up a brown crayon to scribble a small blob in his quadrant of the paper. It was meant to be a puppy, but, no matter how much effort he put into the patches and wagging tail, it wasn't working out too well. Virgil, on the other side of the table, was staring up at Roman's restless pacing with an irritated face, the movement making his head start to hurt, and the heavy footsteps peaking his anxiety every time they drew near again. The purple sharpie in his hand was coming dangerously close to breaking, as he squeezed it, eventually just carefully controlling his voice to speak before he burst. "What about Thomas?" He spoke quietly, as if he didn't even have faith in himself but still, it drew the other three's attentions. "He's probably having a writers block, he did say he was writing a script today..." He trailed off, three sets of eyes now staring directly at him, and pulled his sleeves down lower over his hands, burying them in his lap. With hunched shoulders, he continued. "I dunno, maybe you can go talk to him, see if you can help?" It was a half baked plan to get Roman to leave, and everyone could see through it, most of all Logan, who, silently pulling up the display of Thomas's needs that he had access to, shook his head curtly. "Negative. Currently, Thomas is engaging in a new series recently released by Netflix, and instant messaging one of his....numerous acquaintances." He cut in, bookmarking his page in the textbook he had been browsing, and sitting up from his arm chair, accompanied by Virgil's frustrated muttering. "Texting, you absolute nerd, its called texting." Virge rubbed his temples, and went back to scribbling his strange sort of creature at this, quite content to once again exclude himself from the conversation now that Logan had weighed in. "I dare say your presence would indeed be welcomed, Roman, however you are not required at this present moment for a practical purpose." Logan continued, gesturing towards the ceiling to indicate Thomas's apartment, out in the real world, trying to dissuade the princely side from interrupting any peaceful times their host may be enjoying. But Ro just nodded, his eyes lighting up at the thought of talking to Thomas's friends, as he sheathed his sword, sending it back to his room in the process, and prepared to rise up. Patton quickly scrambled up from his crosslegged position on the floor to wrap Roman in a big bear hug before he could leave, his head barely reaching the prince's shoulder, making the both of them smile a little "Have fun out there, kiddo! Tell Thomas i love him!" He wished his friend well, giggling as Roman ruffled his hair. "I'm sure he already knows, sweet Pop-corn." Roman laughed, full bodied now that he had something to do, absently straightening Patton's shirt collar, before patting his back. "But i cant do anything of the sort if I'm stuck here." He joked, not maliciously, just familiarly, the situation being identical to a million other times. Logan watched the casual shows of touch with a carefully curated sort of detached curiosity, interested as to how the two of them could be so comfortable, his eyes softly drifting towards Virgil as he remembered he was also frequently involved in the hugs, trying not to feel jealous or angry, though a small fluttering in his stomach told him that he was definitely feeling something. Something he couldn't share. Patton reluctantly stepped away as he felt the strange not-quite-there sensation start to take over Roman's figure, waving goodbye happily. The smile he wore for almost anything not dropping as they all watched Roman shimmer and fade, in the dramatic way he liked to rise up, leaving a quiet sort of void left over in the room, that nobody seemed particularly keen to fill. But fill it, someone had to. And that someone ended up being Logan, clutching the engineering textbook to his chest like a precious relic, as he stood. "Farewell, to the both of you." He addressed Patton and Virgil formally, the feeling starting to spread upwards, making him limbs shake almost invisibly. "Should you care to reach me, i will be performing experimentations, within my private room." He managed, before it got to his throat, choking up his vocabulary. Trying to head up the stairs, he felt almost like that fawn from Roman's films, skidding with almost every carefully placed footfall, especially as the thick shag carpet seemed to pull at his soles, dragging them down and making him stumble in a rather undignified manner over the top step, peculiarly not glad he was out of view of Patton. He knew the naturally paternal figure would insist on fussing over him, showering little kisses over every injury, real or imagined, and smiling. By all rights, it should have been a relief he had avoided such a mortifying fate, it certainly was any other time. But on this occasion, all Logan could feel was a disappointed nauseous prickling deep in his stomach that his fall hadnt at least prompted a called ascertaining of his wellbeing. He could hear the small giggles as Patton's pen clearly skidded out of control again, or Virgil made a witty quip, so he knew they hadnt suddenly made the decision to move, but Logan couldn't think clearly by this point. The cold, but yet fuzzy, feeling had now spread up further, gripping his heart tight, making every thought he focussed on for longer than a few seconds seem to be tinted with a strange filter, highlighting blocks of primary color and erasing any finer, more complex lines of enquiry. Especially as he stood again, dusting himself off with one hand, before even noticing the other had crept to his mouth, the thumb lodged firmly between his lips, and he was absently pulling it in and out. Shaking his head, with how absurd the gesture was, Logan removed the intruder, ignoring how his mind instantly protested, and staggered on down the hall, toward the practical white painted door at the opposite end, the only of its kind, that hid his bedroom. But, once again, the strange colorful filter drew his eyes instead to Patton's door, covered as it was in cut outs of hearts, flowers and puppies. They surrounded a heartfelt, handmade plaque bearing his name, a gift from Roman only a few months previously, and made Logan aware of the bitter taste in the back of his throat that had come up since seeing the casual shows of affection the others shared. Scoffing, to hide the way his mouth pulled down into more of a pout than a frown, he turned away, his hand sliding down the glossy paper lightly, and finally, finally, stumbled through his own door, slamming it behind himself. It was only then that he realized his hands were empty. Trying to force his mind into some semblance of usefulness, he realized he must have dropped the precious textbook when he fell, feeling strangely like he should go apologise to it. Sighing at the absurd thoughts sprinting through his mind, Logan sunk down to sit upon the edge of his bed, head in his hands, before instead tilting to lay on his back, his head upon the pillow, sure rest would do him good, in setting everything back to rights. But, try as he might, he couldn't sleep, turning over until his sheets were a rumpled mess, and he was no better off. Peering at the clock, an hour had passed, with nothing to show for it, so, sighing, Logan gave in to the strange feeling that had been prodding at his mind for the past few minutes, feeling as it infiltrated every part of his brain, relaxing and simplifying as it went, uncovering exactly what it was he needed, though he was still reluctant to do it. Lying on his side, curled into a ball, which was very out of character, should anyone have found him, Logan sniffled quietly, his nose starting to run as tears pricked at his eyes. Despite having wrapped himself in some blankets, and a kidney cushion to emulate someone holding him ay some point in his efforts, he still felt lonely as before, one hand threaded into his hair, pulling gently on it as every part of his body was finally over-taken by the hazy sort of jealous feeling. He couldn't remember the last time anybody had hugged him, certainly not with any sort of genuine affection, or as any more than a courtesy. Wrapping his own arms about his chest softly, he shifted to be sat up, the blankets falling away, and buried his face in his knees, to let the tears evoked by such thoughts fall. Usually, the whole idea of crying would be completely repulsive to him, the idea of showing emotion via fluid falling from your eyes? It seemed to pose no purpose, but, for some reason or another, it seemed to be the right thing to do in that moment. It was his own fault, really, all the sides thought he regarded affection as distasteful, something dirty to be cleaned up and hidden away as soon as possible. And, to start with, they would have been right to assume as such, he had no idea how it felt, how much it happened so suddenly and explosively that nobody could even have known ig would happen. But now....now it was different. And nobody had even bothered to ask him how he was feeling. Not once, in the three years Thomas had known them, or even the years before that. Not a single time. And here he was... crying over them, and just wishing he could go to Patton for a hug. It wasn't like he didn't know what the feeling was demanding, Remus had explained what really happens when he takes "some personal time", and Logan had worked hard until he understood, always eager to learn, but, after a while, his purely objective research started to impact him a little more than he thought, until he was just like Remus, a toddler in mind, though he still stayed adult externally, despite his best attempts. It seemed that the mindscape's energy wouldn't let them warp their physical appearance that drastically. And, this time, it seemed that the stress of the jealousy had pushed his mind to slip into that mindset, which, once again, was no surprise, he often involuntarily regressed due to all the stress the mindscape put on him. Trying to reach out, to find Jan somewhere in the mindscape, since he usually ended up looking after the two of them, Logan quietly whimpered to himself when he couldn't feel even a trace to latch onto, the loneliness crashing down upon his all over again, making him pull a pillow onto his lap to hold tight, since he didn't have any little gear. The others could never know, cause what would they think, if their fearless leader, knowledgeable and mature, was nothing better than a dumb toddler, that could barely even speak? He could answer that himself, they would most definitely shun him, until all he had left was words. So, it had to stay secret, no matter how much he wished he could be held by the paternal side like all the other sides. Trying again, he shot out a small tendril of energy, looking for Remus, since his precede was usually overwhelmingly powerful, no matter where he went. Still nothing met his call, an emptiness starting to fill his stomach, as more tears started to pour down his cheeks, dripping unceremoniously onto his shirt and tie, soaking them through. The formality of the clothes felt like they were suffocating him, but, in his current state, he couldn't pull himself to get changed, or even will new clothes to appear on him, so, wrestling with the tie, he tried to at least loosen it. Anything to stop the loud, choking sobs that were now making his entire body shake. Once again, it didn't work, and Logan found his limited energy stores entirely drained by the simple act, causing him to slowly tip back onto his side, still curled into the tense position he had been in. It wasn't that he had accepted that he needed age regression, and all the trimmings that came along with it....it was more that it had taken over him and forced him to seek the safest way of dealing with the situation until he could resolve it. And, this time, that had meant seeking help, from Janus of all sides, to make sure he didn't do anything....regrettable. After Remus, Jan had assured him, Logan had been a dream to babysit, but, in this moment, alone and very much deep in headspace, Logan couldn't help but imagine the worst. That Janus had realised looking after two littles was too much, that he hated Logan's regression so much that he felt he had to hide, that something absolutely horrible had happened to Remus and Jan was calling Lo selfish for needing a caregiver at this time. And that did nothing to help the panicked and heartbroken sobbing now soaking into the mountains of pillows and blankets the-previously logical-side had built around himself. Inwardly reprimanding himself for ever thinking he was deserving of Jan's care, Logan drifted into an exhausted sort of sleep, still sniffling back tears even as his mind succumbed to the slumber. His sleep was dreamless, every breath he took in feeling as if it filled his lungs with treacle, each exhale heavy, bearing the last of his adult concerns, as his brain regressed, back to where it was comfortable. Back to where it was safe. Shifting softly as a cools breeze blew around him, his thumb absently found its way back into his mouth, his lips instantly forming a seal so he could suck upon it babyishly, helping to soothe the ting unconscious whimper that escaped at the bizarre feeling of flying, even as he slumbered on, every part of his body rejoicing as they relaxed, the tension he didn't even know he was holding in them, finally releasing, leaving him floppy and helpless as a newborn, as the digital numbers upon his clock sped past. Waking up again slowly, a strange heavy feeling had settled over his form, making Logan's breath catch in his throat. A soft, blue blanket covered in duckies had materialized wrapped about him whilst he slept, keeping him tightly swaddled, like a real baby. But that wasn’t what had caused his sudden surprise. What really took him aback was that Remus was stretched out, mischievously, across his-rather messy- bed, giggling as he played with a few small cars, liking to run them up and over Logan's pillows. After a few loud crashes, paired with explosive sound effects, Lo's sleep fuzzy, still regressed mind caught up with his eyes. If a clearly toddler-Remus was on his bed, where was he? A question quickly answered as a soft voice broke through his reverie. "Awe, there you are, baby." It seemed full of care, not a single ounce of doubt or repulsion, and altogether calming. Janus. "Did you have a nice lil nap?" Lo didn’t have a response, turning his head to press into Jan's chest instead, so he didn’t have to answer, words just…not coming to his mind. The awkward moment wasn’t helped as a chuckle vibrated through Jan's chest, Lo looking up tearfully, in case he was being laughed at. "Hey, it's okay, lil star, you're just cuddly today. Aren't you? Huh?" He laughed again, softly tickling the still sleepy intellectual's tummy through the blanket, pulling out a small giggle, even as the tears built up in his eyes. "Awe, my smiley star." The comment was idle, the Big looking over to Remus in the moment, but it did help to fight some of the oncoming fragility Lo was feeling, so deep in headspace now. The toddler's little game now seemed to have a dinosaur that needed to roar to scare the people from the cars, and eat them, all at the top of his lungs, in graphic detail, which Janus was watching with fond affection, used to it, even managing to softly rock the infant at the same time. But not everyone was as used to it. Whining slightly at the noise, Logan tried his hardest to bury deeper into the blanket, sure it would muffle some of it, startling audibly as a warm, gloved hand came to rest over his exposed ear. It shocked him for a few seconds, but, upon realizing it did, indeed, protect against the screams Remus was gleefully performing, he melted into it gently, though his limbs not at all wanted to work with him, and closed his eyes, the little kids game making him feel icky, and, strangely, jealous. A few shuffles were the only indication he had that they were on the move, his eyes popping open fearfully again, only to see that Janus had moved nearer to the bed, now sat just on the edge, and was quietly scolding the little kid, who, at least, had the grace to look a little cowed as he shifted to go stand in the corner. His movements were reluctant, but rehearsed, as if it wasn’t the first time he had been sent to timeout for misbehaving. Lo watched him go guiltily, well aware it was his negative reaction to the volume that had punished the regressor he almost thought of as his brother, and started sniffling, wanting Ree to come back. Surprised by the whiney sniffles, Jan looked down at the bundle in his arms, and his eyes softened. "oh honey…" he whispered, manifesting one of Remus' un-used pacifiers to offer instead of getting the one he had in his back pocket, not wanting to jostle the regressor any more than necessary. "I know, it's icky to see him go… but I told him before we came, I said he had to be nice and quiet for you." Jan tried his best to explain, not used to talking to someone in such a small headspace, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, Logan tearfully taking to the paci as soon as it was close enough. It gently bobbed in his mouth, the rhythm helping to soothe the fear just long enough for Janus to adjust his grip and pull the regressed ruminator closer to his chest. Frankly, from an outside point of view, it was an adorable scene, Lo's eyelids starting to droop again as he listened to Jan's heartbeat, the fond smile on the snakes face as he watched the baby- his baby-start to drift, even the fidgeting three year old with his nose pressed into the corner. But soon enough, it had to end, Ree getting to come back out after a few minutes, quickly hugging his CG, and mumbling a 'sorry lo-lo' to the baby. They didn’t manage to get much further than that though, Ree having just picked his favorite green car back up from its crash site in the quilt when a knock sounded on the door. "Logie? All good in here? Just your silly ol' dad checking in on you!" Came a chirpy greeting from the other side, Patton having no idea what he was a few feet away from. Eyes popping wide open again, all thoughts of sleep forgotten, Logan panicked, thrashing against the juvenile blanket, to get down and stop the other side coming in, his mind racing. He couldn't- not now. Not when he was like this. He couldn’t find out. Nobody could know. Nononono, not now, not ever. But Janus just held him fast, all warmly swaddled, placing a hand on his paci to stop him spitting it out in his desperation. Terrified of Patton finding out, Logan's gaze shot to Jan's face, which was the picture of serene calm, trying to figure out what to do. A small gesture to Remus drew Lo's attention though, especially as the side, no questions asked, straightened up from his position and-in a perfect replica of the logical sides voice-called back. "Affirmative, Patton. Merely immersed in a particular experiment. I seem to be in perfect health, no reason for concern." Remus spoke perfectly, even daring to look proud of his achievement as Logan gazed in shock. "Alrighty then! Don’t work too hard, you hear me, kiddo?" Pat chuckled back, none the wiser as to how ironic his phrasing really was, before retreating footsteps could be heard. Shocked into silence, Logan looked back to his Big for an explanation, but only got a sly smirk. "Told you it was ok, little one." He smiled, gently bopping the regressor's nose. It made him sneeze gently, a tiny little noise that he would be ashamed to have made when bigger, but now, it just made him giggle, reaching for Jan's nose to return the favor, the worry forgotten as soon as he had been distracted.