#but on the bright side im nearly done with it!!!!

[houseofwolvess]

kind of forgot that im a human being that needs food and water to function

[oh-katsuki]

the notebook theory (tsukishima kei x reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Summary: Kei has a cynical and jaded outlook on love. When his friend Tadashi figures out that Kei has feelings for you, Kei isn’t sure how to react. After all, love is not something he does but rather, something that happens to him.

"There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory.

He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason."

Content Warnings:  fem!reader (gender neutral pronouns), no real manga spoilers, slow burn, one-sided pining, angst, mentions of divorce and broken homes, toxic relationship (kei's parents), smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), pinching, mentions of mark making, overstimulation (m!receiving), multiple orgasms, hair-pulling

Word Count: 24.8k

A/N: i know i spent forever working on this but it's finally done and while i have a lot of thoughts about it, idk rly what to say. anyway, here's my first attempt at a tsukishima long fic. also i already know that im not beating the tsukkiyama allegations, okay? i tried and failed to beat them okay i just think there is no way to put them in a situation without it being a little homoerotic bc.. they r them okay? anyway, i hope u enjoy and would love to hear ur thoughts <3

The morning comes without warning. Kei thinks he’s read that somewhere, though he’s just sure just where he saw it. He also thinks that whoever said that is right. Morning is always a harsh assault and never as gentle as people describe it to be. 

Kei’s room, the one he rents at university, faces toward the east. In the mornings, when the sun peeks over the horizon, it shines directly into his room and onto his bed before creeping across the light wood floors. His blinds, as useful as they are, always let some through the cracks and the light cuts the ground like butter to a knife. Kei doesn’t think it feels half as romantic as it sounds. 

The light works better than his alarm. No matter how set he is on sleeping in, he never fails to wake up as soon as those slats of light make their way across his bedspread. It wakes him like fever and he’s never quite as comfortable as he felt falling asleep. This morning is no different. 

He rises like he always has, running a hand over his blonde hair and dragging it down his face after sitting up. Then, he stands once in an attempt to gather his bearings before sitting right back down on the edge of the bed. He fights the lingering remnants of sleep, feeling the ray of sunlight beat down on his back. Then, he reaches towards his glasses on the nightstand and slides them up the bridge of his long nose before standing up again once and for all. 

Yamaguchi lives in the other room. His best friend since high school, perhaps his only real friend. They’d miraculously attended the same college and decided to room together, though his other friends from his youth aren’t too far. The arrangement managed to make it all the way until their fourth and final year. Living with each other has become par for the course. 

Tadashi wakes up later than Kei does on most days, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days, he has an 8 am and is usually in the kitchen before Kei has even stood up for the first time. Today is a Wednesday, so Yamaguchi is asleep in his room. The morning light doesn’t wake him the same way it does Kei. His room faces west, so it isn’t until the mid-afternoon, when Tadashi is chased from his room by the afternoon rays and heat, that he notices the sun on its blinding conquest across the sky. 

Kei’s room is clean and neat. There’s no clutter, no collection of items that don’t have a proper place. Everything is itemized and stored exactly where he intends for them to be. His floor is void of stray clothes, of socks he’d discarded the night before, his nightstand is bare and his desk is surprisingly empty save for one notebook sitting in its center. It’s a room that he could leave at any time, despite living here for nearly two years. If Kei chose to do so, he could pack his things and be gone in a day. 

Yamaguchi’s room is different. It’s lived in and well worn. There’s clutter on the floor, socks and pants he’d taken and tossed away to be dealt with later. Certain things don’t have a place and end up living on semi-crowded surfaces filled with things he likes to put down as quickly as he’d picked them up. Kei envies that way of living. A non-temporary way. He envies the rug in Yamaguchi’s room and the way he fills the space with himself. Kei thinks that even after they’re long gone, future tenants would still be able to feel Tadashi’s presence. 

To say that Kei is cynical would be accurate. He tends to lean more towards paranoia in his own strange way. He keeps things in order to quell the anxiety in it. Things stay where they are meant to be. As a result, he’s earned himself somewhat of an uptight attitude that makes Kei feel more awkward than relaxed even when he’s in his own spaces. Not that he minds it. 

Tadashi’s dish from last night is sitting next to the sink. Kei moves around it as he fixes a tea, making an effort not to drag his feet across the floor because he hates the scuffing sound. Every now and then, the glass of his mug will clink against the cheap kitchen tile and Kei will cringe in some paranoid worry that it will wake his friend. 

As he gathers his things to leave the quiet apartment, Kei wonders where his cynicism comes from. He’s sure he could pinpoint it if he tried. His parents divorce, his previous experiences with dating that have left him jaded, the holes that wore even in his most sturdy of sweaters. Inconsequential nothings that piled up until Kei had developed an undeniably cautious outlook on the world. To him, all of these things are the same. Like the morning, they’re intrusive and unsightly, but none is less important than the other. 

Kei does have things he likes. Art, for one. He likes paintings, sculptures, little pieces of history, and all of the things people make with their hands that he could never do. Kei is hopeless at crafts. His fingers are lithe and long, but they’re clumsy and hard to control. Despite his need for order, Kei has trouble controlling his urges. The subtle twitches of his fingers always mess up whatever it is he’s trying to craft. 

He likes writing best of all, specifically curatorial writing. It’s easy for him to pick which pieces belong together and how to organize them in a space, it suits his talent for compartmentalizing. Kei gets to tell a story that way, be it historical or artistic, sometimes both. The essays that his classmates find tedious, he finds relaxing despite the stress. For him, writing about art and history is a pleasure much like sipping tea that is the perfect temperature, unintrusive and natural. 

By the time he arrives at the library, it’s nearly 9 am. He works better here, in the quiet section at a table hidden by three tall shelves of books. It’s almost never occupied and there are hardly ever people seated in the immediate area. Kei doesn’t go out of his way to avoid others, but he finds that if he doesn’t approach people, they often won’t approach him. He prefers things this way, it makes the good and bad people easier to weed out. 

From this spot in the library, Kei can see where you usually set up shop for the day. You arrive after him by about 45 minutes and he convinces himself that it is always coincidental. 

Strictly speaking, you’re Tadashi’s friend, not his. You’ve known each other for a little under a year and have been by the apartment a few times, but yours and his conversations are limited entirely to pleasantries. How are you? What are you working on? We’re graduating soon, huh? Casual conversation that Kei can weasel his way out of at any time. Like his room, it’s impermanent. 

Kei has had the idea that nothing stays stuck in his head since middle school. The house he lived in when his parents were together, weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father, graduating seniors, the apartment he lives in now. To Kei, all of it is so temporary that he finds it difficult to get attached to it, not that he’s devoid of emotion. He quite loves the little things he has, but his grip on them is loose and half-hearted. Whatever leaves, Kei thinks is meant to leave, so he makes no effort to hold on. 

It’s probably unfair to think of you that way, but Kei can’t really help it. He can’t change what he is. Besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t have a reason to think so. He’s often approached by people for his looks, people who want to get close because they think he’s tall and handsome, people who collect others like trophies. He’s not heartless, so he’s been hurt more than a few times. Kei thinks he owes it to himself to be cautious, not that you’ve done anything to earn that type of subtle hostility. 

“Thought you might be here,” someone’s hand lands on his shoulder. 

“Shit,” he groans, “is it that late already?” 

Kei glances down at the watch on his wrist, reading the time as just past 10:45 am. He’s been here for an hour and 45 minutes and hasn’t gotten anything done. Tadashi pulls the chair next to him out and sits down, resting his chin on his hand. 

“Spacing out?” 

“A little,” Kei responds, tapping his pen against the table and turning back toward his book. 

“Got something due?” 

“Yeah, on Friday,” he exhales. “Haven’t started it yet though. You?” 

“Nah,” Tadashi smiles. “I’m just chasing you around.” 

“You’re like a girl with a crush.” 

Tadashi shrugs and lets out a good natured laugh. It’s a little too loud for this part of the library, but Kei lets it slide, smiling with his friend. 

Tadashi is the opposite of him, he thinks. He smiles often and says exactly what’s on his mind when it crosses it, even if it's a little mean. Tadashi used to be a follower, but in his final year of high school and university years, grew into someone befitting of his somewhat sunny and sarcastic personality. Thoughts and words come easily to him and he has no trouble vocalizing his joy or his disappointment. 

Yamaguchi has freckles covering the entirety of his body. Kei knows this because he’s seen far more of Tadashi than he thinks he should have. His skin is tawny and warm like him. Kei finds himself looking at the ones on his hands as Yamaguchi begins to write in his notebook. Kei can’t read his handwriting because it’s terrible and he doesn’t much feel like working on his own project, so he watches his friend’s hand mark the page. Then, his gaze slinks across the library to you. 

You’ve got your head down and look like you’re falling asleep despite it only being 11 in the morning. Your hand moves lazily across your computer keypad. By the time Kei realizes that you’ve spotted him staring, it’s too late to look away. His gaze was too intentional, so he smiles at you instead, nodding his head a little. 

You smile and wave, standing from where you sit and collecting your things. They fill up your arms because you don’t bother to put them in your bag, making your way clumsily across the room and setting your stuff down across from him. 

“Hi, Tsukishima,” you smile. “Hi, Tadashi.” 

You use his friend’s given name and Kei feels a pang of jealousy hit his chest. 

“How long have you been here? I didn’t see you,” you ask, settling into the seat across from Kei. 

“I just got here,” Tadashi smiles, looking up from his notes. “He’s been here for a while though.” 

Tadashi motions towards him. 

“Aw, why didn’t you say hi?” 

“You seemed busy,” Kei lies. 

You pout, filling your mouth with air. “Next time just come say hi, ‘kay?” 

“Sure,” Kei nods. 

Tadashi tosses him a sideways glance and Kei shrugs it off. He’s not interested in being teased this morning, though when is he ever. 

Kei doesn’t like the way you make him feel. When you’re around, he becomes prickly. It sets Kei on edge in a way that he hates. His world, previously so rigid and organized, quickly begins to feel cluttered and structureless. 

You make his heart pound. You make it hammer against his chest so hard that he can feel it in his ears and behind his eyes. It goes all the way down to his already-hard-to-control fingertips and the tops of his thighs. A previously pastel colored world goes vibrantly candy-colored like it’s been plunged in saturating liquid. He nevers knows how to hold himself, never knows how to act natural. What does it mean to act natural, anyway? How should he rest his hands on the desk? Would it be weird to lace them together? Does he look as stiff as he feels? It’s entirely possible that he is suffering a massive heart attack. 

You whisper across the table to Tadashi, leaning forward and laughing at something he’s written in his notebook. You can read his handwriting, something Kei is equally jealous about as he is angry. Kei just watches your conversation, unable to really listen into it on account of the stroke that he thinks he’s having. 

The three of you stay like this for a while, earning the occasional irritated whisper or dirty look from some of the more studious people in the library. Kei pretends to ignore them, remaining quiet throughout the duration of your study session with Tadashi. His quiet corner is invaded and painted bright pink with your presence and he doesn’t know whether to feel giddy or irrationally angry. Maybe it’s both. 

“Crap, is that the time?” Tadashi exclaims, hunching over himself when someone nearby shushes him. “I’ve got class across campus in 10 minutes.” 

He hurriedly collects his things. Tadashi does it so fast, in fact, that Kei hardly has time to beg him not to leave him alone with you. So he just watches as Tadashi throws his things clumsily into his bag and tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Bye, ___,” he says in a rushed whisper. “I’ll see you at home, Kei!” 

“Sure,” is all that Kei can muster. His voice cracks when he says it and he immediately avoids looking at you and stares at nothing in particular in his textbook. 

It’s quiet for a while. Kei pretends to busy himself by glancing between his textbook and his computer and you sit with your head bowed as you take notes on a lecture you’re listening to through the single earbud in your right ear. Then, you tap the end of your pen lightly on Kei’s notebook to get his attention. 

It’s only been about 10 minutes since Tadashi left, but the library now feels like an entirely different place. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep a straight face. 

When he looks up, you’re looking at him with a tilted head. Your expression is soft and unintrusive, friendly but a bit guarded. You smile softly at him. 

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” You ask gently. It doesn’t sound accusatory, but rather a casual statement tinged with friendliness. 

“Huh?” Blood rushes into his ears. 

“I just kinda get the impression that you’re uncomfortable around me,” you say. “Am I wrong?” 

“Uh, no- it’s not that I don’t like you.” 

He’s quick to correct you and he feels heat rush to his cheeks. 

“Then what?” you question lightly. There’s no ulterior motive behind your smile, Kei can tell, but your openness makes him uneasy. 

“I dunno,” he calms himself a little. “I don’t really know how to act around you, I guess.” 

You laugh, leaning back into your chair. “Is that all?” 

“Well, yeah…” he feels awkward and his palms are sweaty. He drops them below the table to wipe them. “You’re Tadashi’s friend and I’m pretty different from him so I just…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“I was worried you hated me,” you smile, chuckling to yourself. 

“That’s definitely not it,” he loosens a little, smiling lightly despite the thudding of his heart. It slows down steadily. 

“I’m your friend too, ya know?” 

“That so?” 

“Well, yeah,” you shrug and lean all the way back, crossing your arms. “I just kinda figured that we would be.” 

“Friends?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His word placement is awkward. 

“Duh,” you laugh a little. “You know, you don’t have to speak formally with me.” 

“That’s just the way I am,” he huffs at being read. 

“Well, you can drop them with me. I don’t mind.” 

“Tall order,” he snorts. 

You tilt your head to the side. “Did you just make a joke?” 

“Uh, yeah…” 

“Funny,” you smile. “What are you studying?” 

“It’s not really studying…” he says, glancing down at the near empty document. “I’m supposed to be writing an essay I have due on Friday. Not going well.” 

He looks up at you through his lashes. You’re leaning forward across the table now, your chin angled upward as you try and peek at what’s on his screen. He turns it so that you can see better. 

“Baroque art?” You read aloud. “Oh yeah, Tadashi mentioned that you’re an art history major. Do you draw too?” 

“No,” he scoffs. “I’m hopeless at it, but I like art. It’s nice to look at.” 

“Huh, you look like you’d be good at drawing,” you say. 

“What’s that mean?” 

“I dunno, like a manga author or something,” you shrug. “You’ve got nice hands too. Like an artist.” 

“Manga?” He laughs a little, trying to play off the color he feels rushing to his face from the compliment. 

“Yeah, you look like the manga type.” 

“Is it the glasses?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” you laugh. 

Kei looks down at his hands. They’re big, like the rest of him, and his knuckles are thin. He’s hyper-aware of them now that you’ve complimented them. He studies them briefly, following the barely visible veins up the back of them, following the line of his fingers to his nails. They’re trimmed and somewhat well kept, save for the spots that he tends to bite at when he lays in bed at night. His hands look nothing like Tadashi’s. Tadashi’s fingers are thick and his nails are short on account of him biting them. Kei wonders if you prefer them to his. 

—

There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. It’s only a bit bigger than his fist—a little thing, really—and it’s completely blank. Kei’s never written anything down in it, nothing has ever really been worth sullying the thing. It’s got brown fabric binding and a semi-thick cover. It’s malleable, but not so flimsy that he’d need a desk to write in it. 

Kei’s not too sure why he bought it in the first place. Maybe he liked the size of it, small enough to fit in his pocket, but not so small as to be ridiculous. It’s practical, much like he is. He’s considered turning it into a daily planner and putting to-do lists in it, but Kei isn’t much of a list guy, it’s Tadashi that likes making lists. Nothing has ever really felt like it suits the book. He’s considered journaling in it, but his life is one big routine and he doesn’t think there’s anything worth writing about. 

No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory. 

He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. 

Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason, not that he’s about to admit to anyone else that he likes you. Tadashi managed to weasel it out of him, though he didn’t really have to ask. In fact, it was less of an admittance to Kei than it was confirmation of his own feelings. If Tadashi can tell that he likes you, then he must. 

People seem to know things about Kei before he even knows them himself. At least, that’s how it seems. He’s always confronted with his own feelings by other people, not that they’re really ever wrong, but it seems everyone catches onto what he’s feeling rather quickly. He’s not too sure why that is, maybe he’s just obvious and hasn’t realized it. 

Come to think of it, when Tadashi had confronted Kei about his feelings for you, he’d been deeply annoying about it. Kei couldn’t even try to deny it because Tadashi had come out with his guns blazing, cornering him in the living room and throwing facts about you at him until his face was beet red with embarrassment. Then, with a serious frown on his face, he’d simply stated you like them and that was the end of it. Kei couldn’t even deny it. Even he knew that it read plainly in his expression. 

To be frank, it sucks being told in plain speech how he feels about someone. Whenever that happens, it makes Kei feel like he’ll never be able to keep another secret in his life. Sometimes, he wishes that he was able to make the decision to tell someone else on his own, but even Kei knows that that is a little beyond him. Kei can think the feelings just fine, but when it comes to speaking them aloud, he seems to have a padlock around his throat. 

Tadashi knows this about him and if it weren’t for him, Kei would have agonized far longer and far worse over certain situations of emotional turmoil. Most of the time, Tadashi gets it without needing to ask or say anything. It’s nice to have someone understand him in that way, even if it does mean he can’t keep a secret to save his life. 

Feelings lately make Kei a little angry. He’s always known that he’s had somewhat of a sour personality. Kei doesn’t need to be told that he’s smug to know that he is. He’s snarky and usually touchy, picky about the people that he hangs out with. It’s not really a secret that Kei is a hard person to get along with, but lately, he feels like it’s been worse. 

Maybe it’s because this is new territory to him. As conceited as it sounds, Kei has never liked someone first. It’s not because he doesn’t think anyone is worthy, but rather, because there are very few people he doesn’t find grating. Despite how he seems, Kei is incredibly sensitive about things, so naturally, it’s easier to get on his nerves. 

He’s dated before, though not for long, and all of his relationships have started the same way. Kei is approached by them, usually on the premise of looks, and he accepts. He’s not sure why he does. Sometimes it’s because he thinks they’re pretty, other times it’s because the romantic in him hopes that it will actually work out. It never has. 

Most of the time, Kei turns out to be different than they expected. He’s too touchy, too sarcastic, too awkward in his way of trying to love. To Kei, it has always felt like it’s ended just as he was beginning to develop real feelings. 

If he’s being honest, it’s given him a twisted inferiority complex. He’s worried that somehow, on a fundamental level, he’s not enough. Sometimes, it even goes so far as for Kei to think that he’s just generally disappointing. He tries not to be. Kei wants to be relied on. He wants to be someone his friends can go to when they need something sturdy. 

Despite his personality, Kei considers himself sturdy. Well, maybe stubborn is a better word. Kei considers himself stubborn enough to be made sturdy. He’s just a little awkward. That’s all. People seem to mistake that for being unreliable. It’s a peeve of Kei’s. 

Tadashi isn’t like that. Tadashi is bright and warm, reliable in every sense of the word. Kei actually looks up to him a lot, not that he’d ever say anything like that to his face. Sure, Tadashi’s not perfect, but at least people rely on him. At least Kei relies on him. 

Tadashi is more easy going than Kei is. He has an easier time going with the flow, which makes him more personable. Kei thinks that Tadashi is the closest thing that he’s had to a better half. In truth, without Tadashi around, Kei isn’t exactly sure what would have become of him. 

It’s pointless thinking about these sorts of things though. Kei realized a long time ago that thinking about being better won’t automatically make him better. This is just the way he is and Kei’s learned to accept that, whatever it means. Still, none of this changes the fact that he likes you. 

Kei could mull over thought after thought and he doesn’t think it would have any effect on the fact that he’s definitely developed a crush. He’s positive it will go away. In fact, he’s not even sure if it’s real. Maybe Kei is just jealous of you the same way he’s jealous of Tadashi. You’re bright and warm like he is. You and Tadashi are cut from the same cloth, so maybe that’s why the two of you get along so well. 

In all honesty, Kei wishes he could be a little more like Tadashi for that reason. Maybe if he were more like Tadashi, he’d have the courage to fully accept these new and uncertain feelings for what they are. But he doesn’t have that kind of courage, not right now at least. He doesn’t have the courage to solidify and lean into his feelings. Kei doesn’t want to risk what little comfort and security he has. If the relationship between you both is a blank page, Kei doesn’t have anything important to write. What if it ruins the paper? What if when he erases it, it changes the thing on a molecular level for the worse? The notebook theory. 

— 

Despite everything, Kei is rather self-aware. At least in his own head he is. Kei knows that when he pretends he doesn’t like you, he really ends up liking you more. He knows that he’s touchy, that he’s awkward, that he comes across more crass than he intends to. Kei is clumsy, not stupid. That doesn’t mean that he has to acknowledge it. 

You’ve been coming around more often since the conversation Kei had with you in the library. Maybe you’re more comfortable now knowing that he doesn’t hate you, so you’re happier to join Tadashi in their shared apartment. 

Kei feels bad about making you think that he hates you. Actually, he feels really bad about it. Like, astronomically bad about it. Embarrassingly enough, it actually keeps him up at night. So he goes out of his way to be a little nicer to you. The only other person he’s ever done that for is Tadashi. 

He greets you properly when you pass, despite the flare up of a medical condition he’s yet to fully diagnose brought on by your presence. He asks you questions about your studies, partially because he is genuinely curious and partially because he doesn’t want you to hate him. He thinks he’d die if you hated him. Kei’s being brave in his own way. It’s little, but he’s doing it. 

As a result, the two of you have grown a little closer. Kei has your phone number now, though he rarely has any reason to text you. Typing out a message to you makes him nervous. It makes him red in the face when you’re not even there. Somehow, having your phone number feels vulnerable to him, like he has access to you whenever he wants and you him. It means that if you wanted, you could make him nervous without even being nearby. That’s a lot for Kei to think about. 

Kei sees you in the library sometimes too, but he never takes the initiative to speak to you. You always come up to him first, clumsily gathering your things the way you did the day you and him sorted out your friendship and plopping them down in front of him. 

Sometimes, you both go several hours without saying anything to each other. Other times, you’ll chat away about something while leaning forward on the desk and Kei has to pretend that he’s not wildly nervous at your proximity. You’re so friendly. So genuinely warm that Kei can physically feel it when you talk. Despite his nerves, Kei would describe you as comfortable. You’re a comfortable person to him, as alarming as that is. 

His crush is out of hand. It scares him, not that he’s actively thought about that. What started as him noticing you has quickly ballooned into him being painfully aware of you at all times. He kind of feels bad about it. You don’t seem to think that he’s anything more than a friend and it makes Kei feel bad that he thinks of you as anything but that. He doesn’t want you to be just a crush to him. Kei wants you to be like Tadashi, someone he can rely on and be comfortable with. He almost feels like he’s reversed what’s been done to him his whole life, like somehow he’s only become your friend because he wants something more. 

Truth is though, he doesn’t want anything more. Kei wants to stay exactly where he is. He doesn’t want his crush to develop any further. He doesn’t want to confess, he wants to forget. Even now, sitting on a couch in the library, he wants to imagine he doesn’t feel anything at all for you.  

“Hey, are you okay?” You tilt your head at him. 

“Huh? Me?” He questions. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You seem a little distracted,” you smile. “You’ve been staring at your computer for like… 10 minutes with this blank look on your face.” 

“You’ve been staring at me for 10 minutes?” He raises an eyebrow, trying to play off the embarrassment of being caught like that. 

“Not staring at you,” you huff, “but I definitely noticed.” 

“Ha, creep,” he tilts his head up a little, blowing air out of his nose. 

“You’re twisted, you know?” 

“Whatever,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks back at his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head and smile before looking down at your work. 

Tadashi has said the same exact thing to him before. In highschool, after Kei had made a joke about his teammate Hinata’s height, Tadashi had given him a look and snorted that he’s so twisted. He’s been hearing that sort of thing his entire life. 

“Hey, are you cool if I skip out of here early?” You ask a few moments later. 

“Oh, yeah sure. I don’t mind,” he nods, hiding his disappointment. “I didn’t realize that we had like… set times to be here.” 

You laugh lightly. “Well, we don’t, but we tend to come and go at the same time, no? I kinda look forward to it.” 

Kei envies your honesty. You’re so honest all of the time. You say what you feel when it pops into your head. He wishes he could be like that, maybe then he would be able to say that he does too. Instead, he just nods and swallows his heart back down. You smile at him again and then gather your things. 

“You’ll be home on Friday night, right?” 

“Uhm, yeah? Why?” 

“Tadashi invited me and a few friends over, did he tell you?” 

“I think he mentioned it.” Kei has actually been thinking about it for the last couple days. 

“Good, I’ll see you, right?” 

“Yeah, you will.” 

“Great, talk to you later then!” You smile and with that, you walk away. 

You sounded so certain in that statement. Talk to you later. You said it like it was inevitable. Thinking about that, Kei can’t help but watch you go. He even likes looking at the back of you, though he wishes he could see your face too. It feels worse to be walked away from than walked towards. 

Kei can’t tell anymore if what he feels is romance or jealousy. It’s probably both. It’s probably some mix of the two that he can’t quite sort out. He wishes it weren’t that way. Kei gets the feeling that he might be ruined. 

So he just watched you leave the library. Someone is waiting for you at the top of the stairwell. Kei can tell they’re a guy and despite the reluctance of his feelings, his stomach drops anyway when you nudge his shoulder with yours and loop your arm around his. That’s something you haven’t done to Kei before. Touch him. You touch this other person so easily. It makes Kei jealous. 

It makes sense that you might be seeing someone, that there might be someone else. After all, you’re you. Desirable. You look up at the stranger, leaning on him, smiling and flashing your teeth. Yeah, it makes sense. 

Turns out, it’s easier to pretend that he doesn’t feel anything when he thinks you’re interested in someone else. He likes to think it will save him the time of wondering. 

—

Kei has cleaned his room approximately four times today. Sure, it’s overboard, but every time he goes into it, he notices something else that needs to be spruced up. Like a pot with a leak, there is always something that he seemed to miss the last time he went through and cleaned up. 

It’s not like you’ll be in his room tonight anyway, but you will be in his apartment and that’s close enough to his room that he, for whatever reason, needs to make it so spotless that it looks like a set. Kei knows though, that even when you’re here, he’ll be wondering if there’s something else that he missed beyond the closed door and he’ll think about it incessantly. 

He’s been avoiding the thought of him liking you. Instead, Kei cleans and cleans and then cleans some more for good measure. It’s not like he has any sort of claim on you and he knows that it’s stupid to feel jealous over one interaction he witnessed by chance, but his mind is running away with him. Was that person your boyfriend? Has he been begrudgingly pining over a taken person all these months? Do you think that he’s creepy because of it? 

He doesn’t get to be upset over the idea that you’re seeing someone else. Why wouldn’t you be? Kei’s done absolutely nothing to indicate his interest in you (or lack thereof), besides maybe telling you that he doesn’t hate you. He has no right to feel the way he does, but he spirals anyway. His insecurities, the ones that gnaw at him in the hours before he falls asleep, play in a constant loop in his head. His unreliability, his unpleasant personality, his cynicism, the baggage he carries with him like a badge. All of it piles up one by one. 

Kei feels like a kid again, losing himself over such a simple interaction, over something so miniscule that it might not even be considered anything at all. There are a plethora of reasons for his feeling like this and Kei thinks he could draw one of his issues out of a hat and it would still somehow address the situation at hand, but all he really feels is hurt and he doesn’t want to explain it away. Kei finds that liking someone hurts. It hurts more than it feels good and the uncertainty chews at his patience and leaves it razor thin. It’s not your fault, nor is it the person Kei’s convinced himself you’re seeing, but he needs someone to blame and it can’t be himself. 

The idea of you relying on someone else makes him nauseous. He’d never considered the thought before, that you find him as unreliable as others do. Kei wants to be relied on, most of all by you, and that fact makes him upset. He’s afraid of what you think of him and without the confidence to accept his feelings, it threatens to crush him. 

Kei’s got this itch over it, so he tries to distract himself. Cleaning his space to prepare for you helps him delude himself that he doesn’t quite like you at all. It’s not your fault. He’s just confused, like his parents were when they married each other. It hurts. Like they were when they had him to try and fix their marriage, which had started to fall apart even when Akiteru was an only child. He’s confused. He’s jealous over your ability to live the way Kei has always wanted to. That’s all this is. Nothing more and nothing less. He feels like he’s being split in two, stretched thin between two modes of thinking. 

Kei glances over his shoulder and into his room one last time. He’s forgotten to wipe the mirror. He goes back in and the cycle starts itself over. 

—

He’s not proud of his behavior. Kei thinks only a seriously huge asshole would be proud of the kind of behavior he displayed tonight. He regrets it immensely, though some part of him is begrudgingly holding onto the idea that maybe he was right to be so short tempered. Of course, that’s a lunatic’s idea. 

Tadashi is standing by the apartment door, mumbling something to you behind it. Over Tadashi’s shoulder, he sees you shake your head and in response, Tadashi gives a small bow before shutting the door to the shared apartment. Then, Tadashi turns and walks towards him. 

Kei doesn’t want to look at him, but Tadashi, for some reason, commands his gaze. 

“Is there a reason you were such a huge cunt tonight?” Tadashi sort of spits the words. They land at Kei’s feet and roll around before settling. 

“What are you talking about? I was normal,” he answers, though the statement sounds like a lie the moment it leaves his lips. 

“Bullshit,” Tadashi says. “You were being an asshole the second they walked through the door and you’ve been one to me all day.” 

Kei scoffs, his cheeks burning, “I’ve just been tired, dude. Besides, what does it matter? You’re closer to all of them than I am.”

“What? You’re tired so you just get to be a huge asshole?” 

“No,” Kei responds. 

“So then what was that?” 

Kei doesn’t really know. He doesn’t know what prompted him to act so cold or make such snide comments. It’s true, he’d been in a bad mood all day and he knows that Tadashi has borne the brunt of his misplaced emotions, but even Kei is confused as to why he’d acted the way he did. Still though, there is a part of him that knows that it was connected to his spiraling and what he saw in the library. He’d sound insane if he said it out loud, like somehow his growth was stunted in the third grade, but Kei is sure it had something to do with liking you and the hurt that comes with it. 

It’s not as if he’d been outwardly mean, but he had been cold. There are parts of himself that Kei doesn’t want you to see, sections of his personality that he ropes off from you because despite not liking you, he wants you to see the best in him. Tonight, he managed to somehow show off the worst. 

It started with the noise when everyone had arrived. You, Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, Kiyoko, and Yachi had all piled into the apartment in one large group. Kei’d been sitting on the couch and the sound of the door startled him right off the bat. He assumed that by the time they all had rounded the corner into the living room, his face was already sour, because everyone had greeted him cautiously. 

It’s no surprise that everyone was so loud. Kei has known this particular group for many years and they, having all gone to school or work nearby, pile into his apartment often for events like these. You were really the only new factor in all of it and while Kei is known as a touchy person, he certainly was more touchy than usual tonight. 

You’d been trying to talk to him all evening and Kei, in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever lingering feelings he had for you, had been shutting you down at every turn. Thinking back on it, he’s endlessly embarrassed. You didn’t deserve that. You’d been nothing but kind to him and there Kei was holding a grudge over you for something he had no right to be angry about whatsoever. He had been holding a grudge over something that he’d learned later that evening that wasn’t even true. 

Kei thinks that what Tadashi is referring to, was deliberately picking a fight with Tanaka. Kei and Tanaka have never been particularly close. Even in high school, his boisterous and somewhat obnoxious personality has always rubbed Kei the wrong way. Despite that, Tanaka has somehow managed to maintain a connection to him through university and the two of them have established a tentative but honest friendship. 

You had been sitting on the arm of the couch beside Tanaka, leaning over him to look at something he was showing you on his phone. Then, you laughed a little too hard and Kei felt that familiar sense of injustice rise to his throat, thick and heavy. It’s an ugly feeling, the kind that makes Kei feel sick when he’s in bed late at night. Bile rose in his throat in the form of harsh words. Jealousy in the form of the verbal venom Kei excels at. 

For Kei, Tanaka was an easy target, someone he could poke at and get a satisfying rise out of. In the moment, the rise he’d gotten from Tanaka by making snide comments about the volume of his voice and his particular obsession with pretty girls had been exactly that, satisfying. 

He’d picked a small fight. Nothing physical, but just enough to get him irritated. Kei’s not proud of it, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t done it deliberately. After all, Tanaka has never been the type to be the bigger person and turn his nose up. 

Sometimes, when Kei is experiencing emotions he’d rather not deal with, he decides to obsess over one single thing. Usually, it’s cleaning or schoolwork. Tonight, it happened to be the volume of Tanaka’s voice, which he knows was a shitty thing to do. Despite wanting to be reliable, Kei can’t help but feel that he was endlessly immature, lashing out at someone completely unrelated to the situation just because he could. 

Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts. 

“I thought you liked them, dude,” his voice is even, letting up on the anger. 

“Who?” Kei plays dumb. 

Tadashi responds with your name and Kei stiffens slightly. “I thought you guys had gotten closer. What happened?” 

“Nothing happened,” Kei says. It’s the truth. Absolutely nothing happened. Kei had spiraled all on his own. 

“Why did you ignore them then?” 

“I didn’t ignore them,” Kei says. Again, it’s not a lie. He may have shut conversations down and been a little cold, but Kei couldn’t ignore you if he tried, it’s sort of the whole problem he’s dealing with now. 

“Maybe, but you were cold. Like… needlessly.” 

“I was fucking normal, Tadashi. You should know me well enough by now to know that,” Kei spits. 

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? I know you and I know that shit wasn’t normal. You’re twisted, but you’re not an outright asshole, Kei. What’s going on?” 

“I was normal, Tadashi. Just because I didn’t bounce around or get rowdy, doesn’t mean that something is wrong,” Kei answers. 

“Yeah, but you were like… majorly fucking weird, Kei. You were being an asshole. Don’t you like them? Don’t you want to be nice to them?” 

“I don’t.” 

“You don’t want to be nice to them?” Tadashi scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“No, not that. I don’t like them like that anymore,” Kei lies. 

“Oh please, that’s such horseshit,” Tadashi laughs bitterly. 

“Get off my ass, Tadashi. I don’t fucking feel that way about them anymore,” Kei insists. 

“Did something happen?” 

“No, literally nothing happened! Why does something have to happen? I just don’t like them,” Kei feels himself getting indignant. Tadashi doesn’t deserve this either, but he seems to be indiscriminate with his poor behavior tonight. 

Tadashi looks at Kei for a moment, studying him and calculating all of the things only Tadashi could know about him. Kei tries to hide it. 

“Jesus, Kei, you’ve got to stop doing this shit,” Tadashi touches his hand to his forehead. 

“Doing what?” 

“Getting all in your head about every single connection you’ve ever had with a person,” Tadashi raises his voice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I’ve seen you do this a million times! You start to really feel something for a person and then you fucking back away like a dog with its tail between its legs!” 

“I don’t do that!” 

“Yes, you do! You sabotage yourself until the other person is forced to do something about it!” Tadashi exhales. 

“I’ve never done that deliberately! What does someone else’s actions have to do with me?” 

“It doesn’t have to do with you,” Tadashi says, “It has to do with your parents.” 

The wind is knocked out of Kei, air sucked from his lungs. He furrows his eyebrows at Tadashi, his mouth slightly open. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Tadashi pushes, angry and trying to make him listen. “Not every relationship is like your parents’, Kei.” 

Tadashi knows he’s stepped over the line the moment he says it. If it hadn’t registered before, it registers clearly on his face now, regret settling over Tadashi’s usually bright features. Kei gapes at him for a moment, running through his thoughts and trying to pick out one that best verbalizes what it is he feels. Kei comes up empty. 

“Shit-” Tadashi starts towards him. “Kei, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. I’m just pissed off I didn’t mean to-” 

Kei pushes past him. “Tadashi, I know you mean well, but don’t try to tell me about my fucking parents.” 

Tadashi doesn’t try to stop him when Kei flings the front door open and walks outside.

—

Kei remembers it like it was yesterday. He remembers all of it. 

He can clearly recall the way shattered glass looked on the marble tiles of his childhood home. White porcelain, broken up into multitudes by his mother and father. They never laid hands on each other, but everything else in the house was fair game. Kei’s lost count of the amount of broken glass dishes and picture frames he’d swept from the floor. 

Kei’s parents had always been on and off in their affection for each other. One minute, they were deeply in love and the next, they were at each other’s throats. Neither of them were bad people, but they made each other bad people. The two of them brought out the worst in each other, maybe on account of knowing the other so well. 

Akiteru was an accident. His brother knows this because when his parents argued, they never let him forget it. In their spats, leverage was whatever they could get their hands on, and that just happened to be Akiteru and the unfortunate circumstances of an accidental pregnancy. 

His parents got married at 19, thinking that they’d be able to handle a child, that their marriage was anything but rushed. They convinced themselves that it was love, when the reality was that Akiteru came because they were too young and stupid to prevent it. At least, that’s what Kei and Akiteru had settled on in the evenings after the yelling had died down and they were left to make sense of it in their shared bedroom. 

They had Kei to fix the marriage. Kei knows this because, like Akiteru, his father’s marital “solution” in the form of a second child was constant leverage to his mother. Kei grew up asking Akiteru why his mother and father even had children in the first place. 

Their relationship was rocky and unstable, predictable and toxic. They, like Kei, would do things to get rises out of each other. They’d make digs, do things to get under the other’s skin. They did it for attention, for affection, or out of loathing for the person they’d decided to make their life partner. When things settled, they got bored. His parents often mistakened calmness for complacency in their relationship. His parents loved each other, but they hated each other just as much, and it was he and Akiteru who paid the price. 

They got divorced when he was fourteen and any chance of Kei having a normal family went to the courthouse with the divorce papers. Akiteru was 20 at the time and managed to avoid the brunt of the custody battle. Kei still gets unexplainably angry with Akiteru for leaving him alone, though he knows that it’s not his fault. The only way Kei could make sense of it was through blame and it was easier to blame Akiteru for lying about volleyball or leaving him alone than it was to blame himself. Both Kei’s father and mother tried for full custody, not because they loved him that much, but because they knew that it would destroy the other. In the end, Kei spent his weekdays with his mother because she lived closer to his school, and weekends with his father just because. 

It happens all the time. People grow together, then grow apart, and grow to loathe each other. Kei watched it happen to his parents, he watched it happen to his friends, he watched it happen to himself with his own reflection. That’s just the way it goes. 

The air outside of his apartment is cool and breezy. He can feel the wind through his sweater, cutting through the gaps in the stitching and into his skin. Kei feels like he can think a little better out here, sitting on the short concrete wall with his back to the apartment building. He stares at his feet, outstretched in front of him. He's still wearing his house slippers. 

Kei did this once when he was younger. The fight that night had been particularly bad and his parents had resulted to throwing things across their bedroom. Kei could hear picture frames shatter through two walls and he wondered which memories they’d decided to trash. A particularly loud shout had sent Kei out of the front door and onto the curb in front of the house. 

He remembers crying, staring at his house slippers on the pavement, afraid because he could hear the shouting even from the lawn. Akiteru had come out to get him, sitting down beside him on the curb and putting his arm around him. 

“Are mom and dad gonna get divorced?” Kei had asked through sniffles. 

“Divorced? No, no,” Akiteru answered. “It’s just a rough patch. It happens to all couples. Mommy and Daddy will be fine.” 

“It’s normal?” Kei sniffled. 

Akiteru paused for a moment. Looking back, Kei realizes that Akiteru was debating on whether or not to lie to protect him. Kei wishes he hadn’t. 

“Yeah, it’s normal.” 

Normal. Kei realizes that he doesn’t exactly know what a normal relationship looks like. He is his parents' son. What they had in them, he has in him. Kei knows that those habits, the digs, the sour statements, the passive aggressiveness, are all things he’s picked up from watching them. Some role models they were. 

He needs to apologize to Tadashi. He may have overstepped, but Kei knows that he’d been an asshole tonight. He’ll need to apologize to Tanaka as well. And to you, which is perhaps the scariest part of this. He wants to apologize for his behavior, but apologizing means that he has to admit that he’d acted the way his parents did, out of jealousy and a pull for attention. Yup, he’s his parents’ son alright. 

Kei tilts his head up toward the sky. Only half of it is visible, the other half blocked by the three story apartment complex directly behind him. It’s a clear night, but he can’t see any stars and the moon is nowhere to be found. Kei wonders when the morning will come. It’s a few hours off, but he thinks about how the sky will look when the sun begins to rise. 

“Kei,” a familiar voice calls from in front of him. 

You’re a few feet away, your hands clasped in front of you. 

“Thought you went home,” he says. 

“Yeah well, I had intended to,” you start, “but you seemed off and I felt weird going back without checking on you. Can I sit?” 

Kei shrugs his shoulders, mortified and angry at being caught like this. He appreciates the thought, but you’re the last person he wants to see right now. It just means he needs to face his shortcomings sooner. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Kei answers automatically. 

“Just decided on some fresh air?” You smile a little and Kei blows air out of his nose. 

“Yup, that’s exactly it.” 

You sit next to him with your legs outstretched the same way his are, your hands are laced together in front of you, hanging down between your thighs. Kei doesn’t make an effort to say anything and neither do you. Instead, he just trains his head back up towards the sky and attempts to collect his thoughts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Strangely, tonight he doesn’t feel nervous. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe he’s too preoccupied with being sorry to pay any mind to the heart palpitations he gets when you’re around. Maybe it’s because even though he showed you the worst of him tonight, you still came back. It’s a small hope, but it’s there. 

“Hey,” your voice comes quietly, “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need- I mean- if you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good ear.” 

Kei nods a little. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “about tonight.” 

“I didn’t come here for an apology, you know?” You exhale a little. 

“Yeah, but you deserve one,” he says. “I was pretty shitty to you.” 

“Yeah, you were,” you agree, catching Kei off guard, “but it happens to all of us. Sometimes we feel things and just can’t keep them inside, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, swallowing down his shame. 

There’s another long silence. You don’t move to touch him or talk to him, instead, you provide steady company. Kei, as strange as it is, is comforted by your presence. 

“I fought with Tadashi,” Kei says after a few minutes. 

“Today?” 

“Yeah, tonight. After everyone left,” he says. “I deserved it though. I’ve been pretty shitty to him all day.” 

You hum, leaning back on your hands. 

“I did the same shit in high school too, you know?” Kei starts. “We’ve uhm- we’ve known each other for a while, the group that was over tonight. Around the end of middle school some shit happened and I uh- I took out a lot of what I was feeling on Tadashi and the others, but mostly Tadashi because he was the only one who knew.” 

Kei isn’t sure why he’s telling you this. Maybe Tadashi was right. Maybe this is another attempt at self sabotage. 

“You bullied him?” You ask, a little surprised. 

Kei shakes his head. “No, but I wasn’t very nice either. Anyone could tell you that. I thought I was past it, though,” he admits, a little defeated. 

“Did you ever apologize?” 

Kei looks up at you in surprise. Your eyes are full of something, curiosity, maybe pity. 

“For what you did in school?” 

He nods. “Countless times, and not just to Tadashi either, to everyone.” 

“You know, stuff like this happens,” you say. “When I was little, I used to hate sharing. Toys, food, friends. I’d hate it when my friends were friends with other people. It made me insecure and I’d get mad at them for it. I grew out of it, but sometimes I still get that way and I have to apologize later.” 

Kei laughs. It’s strikingly similar to what’s happening now, not that you’d have any way of knowing. 

“I can’t imagine you doing that,” he says. 

“I’m serious,” you say. “I still get weird over it sometimes.” 

Kei shakes his head a little, smiling. 

“All that I’m saying is that sometimes we slip up, that’s all. It’s normal,” you continue. “Not that I’m condoning it. Just saying that it doesn’t make you a horrible person. It makes you human.” 

“Thanks,” he says softly. 

“No problem,” you respond. 

“So why’d you fight with him tonight?” 

“He was angry with me because I was an asshole,” Kei shrugs.

“And you’re mad that he called you out?” You give a quiet and somewhat incredulous laugh. 

Kei shakes his head. “No, I’m angry about what he said after.” 

“What’d he say?” 

Kei debates on telling you. He doesn’t want to make himself out to be a victim. After all, Tadashi meant no harm, even if his comment did exactly that. 

“The argument kind of switched subjects,” Kei tiptoes around the fact that the subject was you. “He brought up a bad habit of mine and I got defensive.” 

“Okay,” you say, waiting for him to say more. 

“Remember when I said that something happened at the end of middle school and only Tadashi knew about it?” When you nod, Kei continues. “My parents got divorced. They were a bad match and it was messy. He brought it up.” 

You nod again, your eyes wide. 

“He didn’t mean any harm, I know that,” Kei inhales. “But uh- that stuff kind of sticks with you. Well, it’s stuck with me and I didn’t like having it used to explain my behaviors, even if he was right. I’m not deflecting or anything though. I know I was the problem tonight.” 

“Sure,” you say. “I’m sorry about your parents.” 

Kei shrugs. “It’s in the past. They’re both remarried now with new kids.” 

The last sentence leaves Kei with a sour taste in his mouth. His parents are good people, but after his childhood, he doesn’t think they have any business having more children. Maybe they’re capable of being good for them, but Kei doesn’t like to imagine that. It makes him feel like their marriage wasn’t the problem, but he and Akiteru were. 

“You say that like they got a new pet,” you smile a little. “Are you still in touch with them?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “I visit whenever I go back home, though they’re really not too far from here.” 

“That’s good of you.” 

“Well, they are my parents,” Kei says plainly. 

You’re the only other person he’s divulged this to by choice and your reactions, understanding and level-headed, make him feel better. It’s like getting a weight off of his chest. This is the worst of him. This little bit of information, his history of being unable to fully confront his feelings, of taking anger out on others when he was young, is where his problems originate. 

“Yeah, but you’re allowed to feel what you feel about it,” you say. “My mom died when I was eleven. Texting and driving. I’m still angry at her for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

You shrug and offer him a wry smile. “It’s in the past, but I’m still angry even though I shouldn’t be.” 

“At her?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “She made a stupid mistake that we’re constantly warned about and left my dad and me behind. I was so angry with her, still am. I love her though, perceived faults and all.” 

Kei thinks about whether or not he loves his parents. He thinks he does, even if he resents them. Kei can’t imagine what he’d do without them. Even though his childhood had few emotional comforts, he still can’t think about a world where he doesn’t visit home to have his mother’s cooking. That’s a world that you live in. 

“That’s hard.” It’s all Kei can think to offer. 

“It was,” you say. “Got easier though as soon as I started accepting things. Now I just miss her more than I hate her.”

Another bout of silence follows this. It must be close to two in the morning and he’s been outside so long that he can no longer feel the tip of his nose. 

“Anyway, about tonight,” you say, “it’s not a crime to feel what you feel, but if you need help, that’s what we’re here for. It’s easier to accept feelings and get hurt than to ignore them, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Kei says, looking to face you. “Thank you.” 

You’re so pretty. It’s striking. The curvature and angles of your face, the gentle look in your eyes, softened by the conversation. Kei finds himself thinking that despite not wanting to face you a few hours earlier, he’s grateful that you showed up. You’re good in ways that Kei can hardly fathom. 

“You should go inside. Tadashi is probably wondering where you are,” you say, standing up. “Plus,” you pinch the tip of his nose between your middle and pointer knuckles, “your nose looks like a cherry tomato.”

“Rude,” he says, startled by the sudden touch. 

“Payback,” you shrug your shoulders and Kei rolls his eyes. 

“Do you need me to walk you home?” Kei offers, a bit nervous about you walking home on your own. 

“I’d love to take you up on that, but you seem tired and I don’t live very far,” you respond. “I’ll call you when I get home though, okay? Since you’re so worried.” 

Kei laughs a little and then nods, standing up. “Yeah, I am.” 

His honesty surprises even him, but you just tilt your head and give him a small smile. 

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say. “Thanks for the apology” 

“Anytime.”

“I hope not,” you laugh and Kei follows suit. 

You begin to turn on your heel, giving a small wave. 

Kei doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he calls out your name and reaches for your wrist. Before he has a moment to think about what he’s doing, he pulls you to his chest in a hug. You stiffen and then relax in his grip, wrapping your arms around him. Your body is warmer than his, sending heat through the gaps in his sweater. 

“You can call even if it’s not to tell me you got home safe,” he says. “If you want to.” 

You squeeze him around the middle. “Okay, I will.” 

When Kei lets go, he finds that his face is burning. The cold has been replaced by a flush of blood, making his vision a little syrupy.

“Thanks for coming back,” he says. “Get home safe.” 

“Of course,” you sound a little dazed, wearing an expression that Kei thinks might match his. “And I will.” 

Then, you smile at him, flashing your teeth and giving him a wave. You hold up your phone and point to it. 

“Expect a call!” 

Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.

He stands and watches your figure as you walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner. When you’re out of sight, he lingers by the door to his building, just in case you decide to come back. You don’t come back, but Kei lingers anyway, considering the conversation. 

He goes inside, intent on apologizing to Tadashi. When he opens the door to his apartment, the lights are still on in the living room and Tadashi gets up from the couch and walks quickly down the hall to him.

“Kei, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“Don’t worry,” Kei says. “I know. I’m sorry about tonight too. And for treating you like that today. And for high school.” 

“High school?” Tadashi says, confused. “Why are you bringing up high school?” 

“Just wanted to apologize again.” 

Kei can feel his eyes drooping, exhaustion creeping into his body and replacing the elated feeling he had moments before. 

“I didn’t mean to bring your parents into it. How you like someone is none of my business,” Tadashi says. “I was out of line.” 

“So was I,” Kei admits through a tired sigh. “I shouldn’t have acted that way. I’ll apologize to the others in the morning.” 

Tadashi narrows his eyes a little and nods. Kei, besieged by that sleepy late night feeling, moves towards his bedroom. 

“Hey, Kei,” his voice comes out a little louder this time. “You’re being surprisingly easy-going. Are we good?” 

Kei scoffs a little, rubbing his eyes. “I just had some time to think, that’s all. And yeah, we’re good.” 

“Okay, are you good?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Kei says. 

Before he closes the door to his room, he furrows his eyebrows and makes a firm decision. 

“By the way,” Tadashi turns to him, cocking his head to the side in response. “I lied. I do like them.” 

“Could have guessed as much,” he responds, laughing a little. “See you in the morning.” 

“Yup, see you in the morning.” 

Kei shuts the door to his room. It clicks into place quietly. His room is spotless. It looks like a room that could be easily emptied at any time. He sighs, stepping into it and laying down on his bed. His phone is on the comforter next to him, lying face up. 

When it lights up, it illuminates the ceiling above him and he answers the phone without needing to check who's calling. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I got home safe,” he hears your keys clink against something and then the sound of a door shutting. Then, he hears the sound of you laying down on your bed. He imagines you’re lying the same way he is. 

“Good, I’m glad,” he says. “No trouble?” 

“No trouble at all,” you say. He can hear your smile. 

“Thanks again for coming back tonight,” he says, turning over onto his side and letting the phone rest on the bed in front of his face. 

“Of course,” you say.

He doesn’t know what else to say. His nerves have caught up to him and your voice through the speaker sounds so close, like you’re whispering directly into his ear. 

“Okay, well I’m going to go to bed,” Kei starts. 

“Kei?” you say. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m gonna take you up on your offer. About calling you. Just wanted you to know.” 

“Okay,” he swallows. 

“I feel a lot closer to you.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Goodnight, Kei,” you practically whisper. 

“Goodnight,” he responds, lowering his voice the same way you did. You hang up the phone and the call ends. 

He blinks at his phone for a moment before standing up and getting ready for bed. Kei goes through the motions while thinking about how the evening got here. He’d been certain before it began that he no longer liked you, that he was confused. Now, he’s certain of the opposite. 

He decides that he’ll like you for real this time. Even if he’s afraid of hurting himself, of hurting you.

Kei lays down in his bed and faces the ceiling. He thinks about his parents, about your mother, about you. The cadence of your voice, the slight tremor in it. He thinks about your expressions, understanding and unintrusive. He thinks about your history, the anger you’d admitted to him and the grace you’d given him in his own circumstances. 

He dreams of braids, like DNA. Coils of pink yarn woven together in an intricate pattern. A molecular change not visible to the naked eye. Morning comes like liquid gold, spilling across his bedspread in slats through the window.

—

Kei’s apologies go smoothly. Tadashi’s friends—his friends—are good people. They know him better than most and field his awkward, stumbling apology with steady hands. 

He’d explained his sour mood in as little detail as possible, deliberately omitting his feelings for you while doing so, and he made a special effort to apologize to Tanaka. He’s easygoing and quick to forget, but Kei knows that even after accepting the apology, Tanaka will lord it over his head for a week or two. Tanaka thinks those kinds of things are funny and Kei won’t try to tell him otherwise. 

You do take Kei up on his offer. You call him twice a week now. Sometimes it’s to tell him something relevant to him, other times, you just whisper into the phone that you just felt like talking. Either way, it’s not good for his heart. Kei thinks that at this rate, it might just give out. 

There are a lot of things that Kei could say about liking you. It makes his days a little brighter. When he remembers that he has someone he cares about like that, he feels a surge of excitement for no particular reason. He finds that he looks forward to seeing you and goes out of his way to do so, more than he did before he was willing to admit it. 

He’s noticed the way you eat, like every bite of food is even better than the last. He’s noticed that you wipe the condensation off of your cups before each sip. He’s noticed that when you’re studying, you’ll pull at the collar of your shirt absentmindedly and then become frustrated when it is stretched out of place. Kei likes all of these things about you. 

Kei has also found that liking someone hurts. It hurts worse than he thought it would. Insecurity weaves its way into even the most minor of interactions. He’s self conscious almost all of the time, adjusting his hair, clothing, glasses right down to minor details. As of late, Kei appears more put together than he ever has, but the reality is that he’s probably the least put together he’s ever been. 

When you’re around, Kei is awkward and clumsy. He drops things, trips over nothing, loses control over his lanky limbs and overshoots things. He feels like a teenager again, not that he’s that far off from one. 

Still, one thing overshadows all of this. Kei is so comfortable around you, so peaceful despite the nerves and insecurity, that he’s able to forget about the worst of it. Forgetting about the worst of things is not something Kei is particularly good at. He’s cynical by nature. You help to ease the burden of it. 

The coffee shop he’s visiting with you today is quiet. The room is decorated with dark oak wood and the tables are accented by the rings of the trees the wood was cut from. The early spring light filters in at angles through the windows letting out onto the street. It falls across your notebooks and the knuckles of your hand, wrapped evenly around a black pen. 

You’d brought him here to study instead of going to the library and Kei can’t help but think that it feels like a date. His tea sits half-finished in a mug beside his laptop, beginning to cool to room temperature. Your coffee sits by your unoccupied hand and every now and then, you’ll reach to take a sip of the warm beverage without even glancing up. 

Kei has spent so much time watching you today, that he’s hardly gotten any work done. His computer is open on a document with a paragraph of writing about nudity in the classical period, which he hasn’t touched in about 10 minutes. He’s been clicking blankly around the page, adding spaces and then deleting them and then glancing up over the edge of the screen to look at the way you purse your lips when you’re focused. 

“You’d get a lot more done if you stopped staring,” you say, not looking up from your notebook. 

Kei chokes on his exhale. “What?” 

You laugh a little, looking up at him through your lashes. God, you’re pretty. 

“The document?” You chuckle. “You’re not fooling anyone by clicking around randomly like that.” 

“Oh,” Kei furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. “Yeah, just can’t seem to focus.” 

“What’s the paper on?” You set down your pen and cross your arms on the table. 

“It’s not really a paper,” he says. “It’s a visual analysis on the Aphrodite of Knidos.” 

“Is that the one without the arms?” 

“No, but they come from the same family of statues,” Kei smiles a little. 

You hum a bit. “Do you like it?” 

“Like, do I think the statue’s pretty?” Kei closes the screen of his laptop to see you better. “Yeah, I do. Learning about the history of it is a bit depressing though.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, Aphrodite was one of the most powerful Greek gods, right?” He says, and you nod your head and roll your eyes because you know that already. “But this statue group intrudes on a private moment of hers. She’s trying to cover up her body, probably just before or after a bath. It’s meant to be humiliating.” 

You tilt your head. “Sounds more interesting than molecular structures at least.” 

Kei laughs a little. “Yeah, I think it’s just a bit more interesting.” 

“Why did you choose to study art history?” You question, leaning forward on your elbows. 

Kei feels awkward at receiving the question. He doesn’t like talking about himself much, let alone his passions. They tend to get away from him. 

“Probably because I’m no good at art,” he smiles a little. 

“Such a shame, what with your artist’s hands and all,” you reach across the table and tap his knuckle. 

Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks. 

“You’re no good at art, so you study art history instead?” You press for more. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I like things that people make with their hands. There’s a lot of human expression in ancient art, good and bad. Gives a bit more context into who we were before.” 

You lean back in the chair, grinning at him. Kei bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to notice the slope of your neck. 

“Why are you studying molecular bio?” He changes the subject. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I want a good cushy job that makes me a lot of money.” 

Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up. 

“Plus,” you continue, “I wanted to show off a little bit.” 

“So you put yourself through four years of torture?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yup, I’m a huge masochist,” you grin. 

“You STEM kids are unbearable, you know?” Kei snorts. 

“But you like me anyway, yeah?” 

Kei nods, heat creeping up his neck, and watches you return to your work. 

It’s true, he does like you anyway. Kei likes you so much, in fact, that it frightens him. Well, the idea of liking someone has always frightened Kei, whether he’s noticed it or not. Commitment, or lack thereof, make Kei nervous in the same way heights do. He feels like he could lose his footing at any moment. 

That’s probably why he doesn’t want to do anything in particular about his feelings. Kei is content with just feeling them. He’s content to just be able to like you in his own way, even if nothing ever comes of it. He probably shouldn’t do anything about them, considering the back and forth battle he’s waged in his mind over the last few months. He’s too indecisive to do anything but like you, and even that feels herculean to accept. 

Not that liking you is a hard thing to do. You’re easy to like. It’s easy for him to picture touching you. It’s easy for Kei to imagine late night conversations and little intimacies shared over damp pillows. You’re easy to talk to, floating through conversations and navigating conflict with a sure step, something Kei can’t do. It’s not hard to find things to admire. 

Kei imagines what it would be like to be with you. He imagines the feel of your hands in his, how you might look spread beneath him, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips. He imagines how his glasses might fog up with your breath and slip down the bridge of his nose. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? 

A little alarm bell sounds in his head. This is a dangerous line of thought, a greedy one. Kei doesn’t think he can handle greed, not when it comes to you. He got a taste of it that day when he saw you leave with someone else and again the following Friday. Kei doesn’t mix well with it, with wanting. Still, he wants. 

—

It’s a breezy day. It cuts the growing humidity as the beginning of May creeps on. This is no doubt one of the best times of year, though Kei prefers the fall or winter. Still, even with the slightly sticky air, his walk to class is pleasant. He’d even venture to say that it’s good. 

Light filters through the trees, blooming with their spring flowers, and in the distance he can see a familiar row of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom. As he approaches them, he finds himself admiring their delicate petals, wondering just how brief their bloom will be before they come cascading down. One tree among the pink rows has yet to open its flowers. The buds sit on their branches, shades of green and gray. A late bloomer. This tree will no doubt flower once the other petals have fallen, and when it does, it’ll become the most eye-catching thing on the street. 

Kei admires it for a moment, standing below the thing and looking up through its twisting branches. It’s so small, much smaller than the rest of its counterparts, and its branches don’t look too full of yet-to-bloom buds either. 

There was a tree like this outside of Kei’s childhood home, the one his family lived in together when it was whole. It would always bloom a week after the others and every year he would worry that it never would. Of course, he kept this fear to himself, but he often watched it from his bedroom window when Akiteru was out. He’d press his face against the glass and pray for the flowers to come so that it didn’t get left behind. Sure enough though, it would bloom without fail and leave scattered pink petals across his yard and doorstep. Kei wonders if this tree in front of him will do the same. 

“Thinking about changing your major to plant sciences, Kei?” 

He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity. 

“Jesus,” Kei turns, “you need a bell or something.” 

“You’re the one standing in public staring at a tree with no flowers on it,” you laugh a little. 

Kei shrugs his shoulders, not really willing to give an explanation for the train of thought he was just on. 

“Where’re you headed?” he questions. 

“Dropping off an assignment,” you smile lightly, “wanna come with me?” 

“I can’t. I’ve got a class in 15.” 

“Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes,” you shrug. “We’ll make it.” 

“We?” Kei raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, you come with me to drop off my paper and then I drop you off at class. It’s a win-win.” 

“Sounds like I’m just doing a lot of extra walking,” Kei snorts. 

“Yeah, but you get to do it with me so it’ll be more fun.” 

Kei folds and goes with you to drop off your assignment. It’s an essay assigned by an old-fashioned professor who doesn’t like electronic submissions. You comment off-handedly on what a waste of paper it is and Kei nods, just happy to hear about it. 

It’s strange. Kei is normally very tied to his routine. It keeps him sane, helps him to organize his thoughts and feelings into neat compartments. For Kei, an orderly life is an orderly mind. Somehow though, you ask him to deviate from that and he’s more than willing, eager even, to oblige you. Better yet, he does it without feeling off-kilter. Well, without feeling as off-kilter about his daily life. When it comes to you, Kei is about as stable as a pogo stick. 

The walk to your professor's office is only a few minutes from his classroom, just a few buildings over, but by the time you both arrive there, Kei’s palms are sweating. He resorts to shoving them in his pockets and wiping them on the inside of his pants, mortified at the idea of accidentally touching you like this. 

“Hey, about tonight,” you start after dropping the paper off with a quick bow. 

You’re supposed to come over. It’s the first time you and Kei have agreed to hang out at one of your places alone and Kei has been compartmentalizing his nerves so harshly that he’d almost forgotten about it entirely. Maybe that explains his easy-going mood. 

“Yeah?” 

“So, Tadashi may have mentioned it in front of the others,” you give him a sheepish grin, “and they may have asked to come and I definitely told them ‘the more the merrier’.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kei’s a little disappointed. “So they’re coming too?” 

“Yeah, is that okay?” You furrow your eyebrows. 

Kei can’t very well come out and say that it isn’t, because his reason for thinking that is entirely about monopolizing your time. Kei says he doesn’t want to do anything about these feelings, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t indulge just a little into the foreign feeling of accepting that he’s ‘in like’. 

“Yeah sure, why wouldn’t it be?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him and Kei misses the message entirely. 

“I dunno, you’re not really a fan of bigger groups right?” 

“Not really,” Kei shrugs, “but I’ve known them for a while so it doesn’t count.” 

You nod your head and then smile. “Great! Now, where is your class?” 

“Social Sciences,” Kei glances down at the brown watch on his wrist. “In about… four minutes.” 

“Wanna run? Can’t be late, can you?” 

Kei does not want to run. He runs anyway. You’re faster than he is and your step is louder. The soles of your shoes thump on the floor with every step you take and your whole body lurches forward with each bound. When you reach the end of the hallway his class is in, Kei is completely winded. Considering that he plays volleyball as a hobby, he should really be in better shape. He attributes his lack of breath to your presence. Maybe he’d been holding it while watching you run. 

You glance into his full classroom, giving him a relieved look upon seeing that the professor has not begun her lecture yet. Then, you bounce twice on the tips of your toes and start jogging in the other direction. 

“Have a good class!” You call. 

“What’s the rush?” he questions. 

“I’ve got class now too, dummy. Just wanted to hang out with you for a few more minutes.” Then, you turn and run off, your bag bouncing against the side of your leg as you round a corner and fly down a set of stairs. 

That’s the thing about you that Kei can’t get enough of. When Kei takes a step back, when he resigns himself to being okay with just a chance meeting and a brief hello, you take a step forward. Whatever Kei lacks, you make up for tenfold. Your outstretched hand makes him greedier. It makes Kei want more than he’s ever wanted before. He goes to class starved for something that isn’t food, a feeling Kei hasn’t experienced often, let alone leaned into. He lets himself feel the hunger. 

—

Day melts away to a cool evening, still slightly wet, but like the dampness before rain. The air loses its warm touch, creeping into something chillier. Kei opens his bedroom window to let the air in. He likes the smell of cool nights. He wants his room to smell like it when he sleeps tonight. 

“Sorry that I spilled the beans about tonight,” Tadashi leans in the doorway of his room. 

“It’s not like that,” Kei rolls his eyes, already irritated with the implication that whatever you and Kei had organized was anything more than two friends hanging out. 

“Sure it isn’t,” he laughs. 

“I’m serious dude,” Kei fights the urge to throw something soft at him. 

“You wanted to hang out with them alone, right?” Tadashi tilts his head. His dark hair falls to the side and around his neck. 

“I just said it wasn’t like that!” 

Tadashi gives an even laugh. “You’re the one making it dirty, Tsukki, not me.” 

Heat floods Kei’s face, painting it red. 

“Caught ya,” Tadashi smiles. 

“When the hell are you moving out?” Kei grumbles and Tadashi gives another good natured laugh. 

“Not until you do. You’re stuck with me.” 

“Not if I kill you,” Kei doesn’t smile when he says this. 

Tadashi barks a laugh. “So what changed?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean with you. You seem a little more upbeat lately,” Tadashi says. “Nothing like the sad sack from a few months ago.” 

“I was kidding before but now I’m serious. I really will kill you.” 

Tadashi shakes his head a little but doesn’t say anything, intruding on Kei’s space until he gives an answer. 

“I just got tired of it, that’s all,” Kei says evenly, though it’s a little hard to admit. 

“Tired of what?” 

“Pretending,” he says plainly, glancing up at Tadashi in the doorway. 

“Because of them?” 

“No,” he starts. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can you leave now?” 

Tadashi shakes his head. “Too curious to leave.” 

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Kei grumbles. “I got tired of pretending I didn’t want them.” 

“Not like you were very good at pretending,” Tadashi laughs and Kei tosses him a sharp look. 

He raises his hands defensively, tucking his chin downwards and laughing lightly. “Okay, fine. I’m gone now.” 

“They’ll be here in an hour or so, by the way,” Kei adds and Tadashi gives a little hum to confirm that he’s heard him as he leaves the room. 

Kei glances around his room. The floor is bare, save for a small mat by the side of his bed to keep the shock of warm feet on a cold floor in the morning away. That notebook, dear to him as it is, still sits on the desk. It’s empty, but Kei likes the look of it. 

The hour before you and his friends are meant to arrive goes by so slowly that Kei worries that he’s gotten the day wrong. He incessantly checks his watch. It’s a brown leather watch with a square face. Thin and somewhat old fashioned, Kei prefers it to pulling his phone out to check the time. His Dad has one like it, almost matching. It had been given to him as a gift at his high school graduation and Kei had accepted it begrudgingly. He’d not been on good terms with his parents then and having them both in the same space for his graduation day was more trouble than it was worth. Still, he wears the watch almost daily. Despite having the impression that his parents never really cared about him, it was a fine gift for him and the brown strap suits his light skin tone in the same way it suits his father’s. 

He walks to the mirror in his room, hanging on the wall beside his nightstand, and peers into it. Kei’s curly hair is somewhat unruly. It’s hard to manage, especially in the warmer months when his waves turn into frizzy curls that he can’t seem to keep down. It’s gotten longer, coming down to just above the bottom of his ears at the back and curls upwards in licks of thick blond. 

Kei fiddles with it for a moment, tucking it behind his ears and then deciding to pull it forward. He could put gel in it to help calm it down, but he hates the greasy look of it and he’s never been one to primp and preen. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, square frames in a tortoiseshell pattern. They look expensive, though they’re only a cheap pair that he’d found at the drug store and had the lenses replaced. 

He looks normal. Kei looks like himself, if not a bit flushed in the face from his nerves. His reflection is one he is oddly unfamiliar with, despite it being his throughout his entire life. At some point during high school, he’d stopped recognizing the man in the mirror as Kei and started viewing him as a separate entity. Kei Two, a version of him that can make a home out of a space and find things to write in his notebook. Kei Two’s family is still whole and unbroken, and he likes to imagine that he’s a little more friendly than the real-world version. He looks away from the mirror, content today with being the original. 

Kei is in the living room and around the corner when the front door latch clicks open and is followed by a symphony of raucous voices. He takes a sharp inhale, unsure of why this feels so different from the hundreds of other times you’ve all piled into his living room. 

“Where’s Kei?” He hears you call, dragging out the syllable of his name in a soft hum. 

That’s why. It’s because this time, you’ve come here to see him specifically. You’re not here to see Tadashi or by chance, you’re here because you’d made plans to see Kei. That’s what makes it different. 

You round the corner and Kei is hit full force in the chest with his emotions and his nerves. It happens all at once, keeping the air from his lungs. You’re smiling, beaming even, and Kei thinks that maybe it’s because you can hear the hammer of his heart against his chest. 

“Hi,” you breathe, plopping down next to him on the couch. 

“Hey,” he chokes out. 

Kei chides himself for his nerves. He’d been doing better about getting weird around you, but today he feels closer to blowing up than he ever has. 

Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, and Noya make their way into the kitchen, each one clapping Tadashi on the back as they do. They beeline for their fridge, opening the door and flooding the floor with artificial white light as they pull out enough beers and sodas to supply a small army. Kei wonders why he and Tadashi ever bought so many of them. Kei hardly drinks, but he supposes that Tadashi just likes to host. 

“Tanaka and Kiyoko?” Tadashi questions as he makes his way into the living room with the group. His beer cracks open with a satisfying pop. 

“Date night,” Noya says, sinking into one of the arm chairs situated around the coffee table. “So annoying.”

He groans about Kiyoko, someone he’s all but worshiped since high school. 

“You’re just mad it isn’t you,” Kageyama quips, giving a somewhat mean grin. 

“Not true,” Noya argues. “I am the happiest person in the world for them! But now they go on dates and I can’t come. It’s like I lost a bro.” 

“You’re so overreacting,” Yachi adds, her lips forming around high pitched syllables. “They’re here most of the time.” 

“Yeah, most but not all,” Noya pouts. 

“Give the same energy to Daichi, Suga, and Asahi next time, kay?” Tadashi laughs. 

Their friend group is a large one, consisting of most (if not all) of their highschool volleyball team. While Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi are the same age as Kei and Tadashi, Tanaka and Noya are a year older, and Kiyoko is two. Daichi, Asahi, and Suga all went to universities outside of Sendai, meaning they hardly ever see them. All in all, the rest of the group is pretty bummed about it. Kei just finds that he misses having Daichi around to reel everyone in. Now that he’s gone, that job has somehow gone to Tadashi, who is more of an enabler than anything else. 

“They’re different and you know it,” Noya frowns, opening his open beer with a hiss through his teeth. 

You lean to the side, bumping your shoulder against Kei’s. 

“Who’re Daichi, Suga, and Asahi?” You ask softly. 

“You’ve never met?” Kei furrows his eyebrows and you shrug. 

“Maybe, but if I have it was only once or twice.” 

“They’re friends from our volleyball team in highschool, but they’re two years older.” 

“Okay, so one year older than me?” 

Kei blinks a few times. “You’re a year older than me?” 

“Yeah?” You laugh a little like it’s obvious. 

“But aren’t you a fourth year?” He furrows his eyebrows. 

“I took a year off before starting college,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thought that I had to get my sillies out.” 

“Your sillies?” Kei laughs a little. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “and I had to save up some money. It makes the world go ‘round, you know?” 

“What are you guys whispering about?” Tadashi gives Kei a wry grin over the top of his beer can. 

It’s only then that Kei realizes the way you both are leaning into each other. He’s tilting his head down to hear you better and you’re leaning forward. It gives off the impression of two people conspiring, of closeness that Kei hadn’t even realized had crept up on him. 

“I was asking who Daichi, Suga, and Asahi are,” you shrug off the moment, leaning back in the chair. 

This prompts a chorus of disbelief, everyone jumping in to describe them to you. Kei takes it as a moment to breathe, inhaling and exhaling. He can feel your thigh against his, just barely there and bleeding warmth through the fabric of his jeans. 

They delve into stories about nationals, little details that Kei had forgotten a long time ago. Every now and then, someone will bring up Kei’s more-than-sour personality and he will feel the need to hide the embarrassment on his cheeks. Even though you know about it, it’s still mortifying for Kei to hear. He wants you to see the best in him, but any hopes he had of you forgetting are quickly washed away as someone brings up Kei’s relentless prodding of Kageyama’s easily pushed buttons. 

You laugh along with them like you were there, amused to hear stories about your college friends in their high school years. Kei finds himself thinking that you fit very well into this scene. 

Still though, despite the fun he’s having, Kei’s battery begins to run out quickly and after a long game of cards, he gets up to take a quick break in the kitchen. It’s not that he wants the night to end, but rather that he just needs a minute to himself and uses the idea of more snacks as an excuse for it. 

He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a half-finished bag of chips and setting them on the counter. They’re clipped with a bright red chip-clip from the grocery store and Kei thinks that because of that, they shouldn’t have gone stale yet. If it were the peak of summer, Kei might think twice, but this time of year, they should be fine.

Then, he bends down to get a large white mixing bowl from a lower cabinet. Their plates and bowls are kept in various different cabinets, though the only reason they stay somewhat organized is because of Kei. 

“Done already?” You lean your hip against the counter. 

“With what?” Kei struggles to keep his eyes from following the line of your body. 

“Hanging out,” you smile lightly. 

“Not really,” he says. “Just needed a minute and decided to get more snacks.” 

“Wanna go sit outside for a bit then?” 

Kei glances into the living room where the group chatters away. He’d hate to be stopped on the way. 

“Relax,” you laugh. “They’re so caught up they won’t even notice that we’re gone.” 

Kei furrows his eyebrows and then shrugs, swallowing his heart down with the spit that has pooled in his mouth. He follows you out of the front door, shutting it with a quiet click and heading down the steps of the complex and to the concrete wall lining the shrubbery outside. It’s the same place you’d come back to talk to him at all those weeks ago, though he is in considerably better spirits than he was then. 

It’s a cool night, the gentle heat of the day completely burned off to make way for a crisp breeze. He inhales, wishing that he had brought a drink to fiddle with and sip on to distract him from his nerves. 

You sit beside him, leaning back on your palms with your legs outstretched in front of you. Your hand is only a few inches from his and Kei sucks in a breath when he accidentally touches it while he gets comfortable. You only offer him a little smile in response. 

“Sorry again about bringing the troops here,” you speak first. 

“That’s really okay,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually really like them.” 

You snort. “I hope so.” 

Kei inhales louder than he intends to and when you look at him like he’s going to say something, he just holds his breath and shakes his head. The air only leaves him when you finally look away. 

“Kind of a bummer though,” you start, “I was kinda excited about just hanging out with you.” 

Kei’s breath catches in his throat. He swallows to move the metaphorical blockage. 

“We hang out all the time though,” he says like it’s enough. Of course it’s not enough. 

“Guess so,” you smile a little, though Kei can hear the distinct turn of disappointment in your voice. 

“You know,” he starts, already embarrassed at what he’s going to admit. “I wanted to be your friend for a while.” 

“Oh yeah?” you smile, opening up again and turning towards him. “Why?” 

Kei shrugs, resisting the urge to shut down completely. It’s embarrassing admitting to someone that you wanted to know them before you actually knew them. 

“You kind of reminded me of Tadashi,” he says. “And you both got along so well.” 

“Tadashi? I’m nothing like Tadashi,” you laugh, shaking your head. 

“What? No, you two are so similar,” Kei insists, lacing his fingers together. 

“What about us is so similar?” 

“Well, you’re both sociable and warm and…” Kei trails off. He can’t really think of anything else. You look at him with an expectant look in your eyes. 

“See?” 

Kei realizes that the two of you are not similar at all. Your warmth is where the similarity stops. He’d been likening you to Tadashi this entire time, not because the two of you are similar, but because you make him feel similar to the way Tadashi does. Safe and comfortable, though with the added addition of deeply awkward. He realizes that without the safety net of you being like Tadashi, he’s never had any ability to deny his feelings and with that they rage full force around the corner and slam into his chest like a heavy blow. 

“We’re nothing like each other,” you laugh and lean back against your palms. “Though, it would be cool to be like Tadashi.” 

Kei experiences the sudden realization that he doesn’t want you to be like Tadashi. Kei wants you to be like him. He wants you to be greedy and want him the same way he wants you. He wants you to be able to keep up with his turns and his moods, something he didn’t realize he wanted in the first place. If you’re like Kei, then Kei doesn’t have to be afraid of showing you the worst. You’ll have already seen it. If you’re like Kei and he loves you, then what is stopping you from loving him? 

“Even if you’re not like Tadashi, that’s fine.” His cheeks burn. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I like you all the same,” he admits quietly. 

“The same? As Tadashi?” You purse your lips a little. “I thought I was a little different. Was I wrong?” 

Kei wants to kiss you. Kei wants to kiss you so badly that his mouth has gone dry and his lips feel like they’ve separated from his body. Anything he’d thought about not wanting anything with you flies out of the window with your proximity. You’re so close to him. Close enough that if he leaned a little to the right, his shoulder would be against yours. You’re so close and you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for something, implying that somehow you’re different from Tadashi. Implying that you want him to like you differently than the way he likes his platonic friend. 

“No, you’re different,” he says, taking the bait you’ve laid in front of him. His heart pounds and he can’t look at you. He thinks he’ll kiss you if he does. 

“Am I?” 

Kei can hear the smile in your voice. It makes what you’re saying sound honeyed and curved. 

“Yeah, you are.”

“How so?” 

Kei finally raises his head to look at you. You’re grinning, leaning towards him like you’re watching a show. He feels the way his nerves rise into his throat, pressing against the very back of his tongue. He doesn’t know how to answer or what to say. Well, he does know what to say, he just doesn’t think he can. Kei is good at thinking about emotions, but when it comes time to speak them outloud, it seems that he’s still got a padlock around his throat. So he does what any logical person would do. 

Kei leans forward, pushing against his screaming nerves and trying to ignore the tremble in his hands, and kisses you. It’s awkward and his teeth click against yours before his lips fully settle against your mouth. He feels the breath you draw in, like surprise and relief mixed together, and he finds that he does the same. 

He can see the way your eyes flutter closed through his barely open ones and he realizes that your lips are so warm. He screws his eyes shut when you dip your head forward to move your lips against his. Yours are so warm and soft, like satin. A kiss has never felt like this to Kei before and he finds that he wants to catalog every single one of your reactions. Maybe that’s what he could write in the notebook. Maybe he could write down every single thing that you do that leaves him winded and wanting more. 

Neither of you reach for the other, but he can feel the knuckle of your pinky against his as you slowly kiss each other, tilting your heads side to side. There’s hunger within him, the need to take more than what he’s receiving and a greed he isn’t quite familiar with, but there’s also romance. It’s like a spell that’s yet to be broken, fed by the click of your mouths as they move together. Kei sighs, flooded with the relief of this kind of physical affection, of being honest with himself at how much he likes it. Kei loves the feel of your mouth. He loves the way your lips and tongue feel and he loves that they’re all that he can feel right now. 

The kiss lasts longer than Kei thought it would and by the time he pulls away, you’re both steadily panting and attempting to keep your breathing even. He wants to do it again. He wants it so badly that it makes his chest swell. He wants to do that with you forever, but he swallows down the desire. It’s a temporary fix, but it’s enough for him to choke out what it is he wants to say next. 

“I think I’m in really hot water,” he squeaks. 

“What do you mean?” You breathe out, the playfulness from a few moments earlier long behind you. 

“I think I want you way more than I thought I did,” he admits quietly, the first out loud admittance of his feelings to you. 

You smile a little before speaking. “I think it’s only hot water if the other person doesn’t feel the same way.” 

Your face is still so close to his. “Yeah?” 

It comes out a bit desperate, like he needs reassurance. Kei does. He’s so afraid that he thinks he could die. Afraid of the spell breaking, afraid of losing whatever moment this is and being forced to return to his one-sided pining, afraid that you don’t feel the same way.

Your face moves closer to him, breath trembling lightly. “Yeah.” 

You kiss him again, pressing your lips against his lightly before parting them. He’s so overwhelmed and so immediately lost in it. Kei feels the way your tongue teases the inside of his mouth and it makes him feel like a teenager again, swelling with desires and emotions that he can’t name. You move your hand over his, placing it lightly on top of his, and he reacts by lacing your fingers together and pushing forward more. 

Kei wants to touch you so badly, to reach up and hold your face, to touch your waist and your legs and your chest. He wants to do it all, to feel you right here under the cover of night, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you and stews in the desire, letting it swell in his chest as he listens to the clicking of your mouths. You kiss him so slowly, moving your mouth at a languid pace. It drives him crazy. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this.

“We should go back inside, I think,” you break away, your bottom lip shiny with a sheen of spit. “The others might think something’s up and Tanaka isn’t exactly good with discretion.”

Kei automatically reaches up to swipe it with his thumb. He doesn’t know where this affection comes from, where the possessive action found its origins, but he finds that he likes the way it feels to be able to do it in the first place. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Kei responds, though he would have been happy to continue sitting out here with you, kissing you silly. 

You stand first, dusting off the back of your legs and waiting for Kei to follow suit. When he does, you reach quickly for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before walking in front of him. 

Kei is not sure how he should act when he goes inside. He’s tense all over, desperate to pick up where the two of you left off, and unsure if his face betrays that thought. 

“Where’d you guys go?” Tadashi asks as Kei closes the door behind him. 

In the time you’d both been gone, the living room has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable. Empty beer cans are strewn about the tables and the blankets and pillows from the couches are now haphazardly laying around beside the couch or over people’s bodies. Then again, maybe the room always looked like this and he was just too busy thinking about how close you were to him. 

Kei doesn’t know what to say. Why had they gone outside in the first place? He’s not even sure that he remembers. 

“I wanted a cigarette and I made Kei come with me,” you answer evenly. “Why? You jealous?” 

“Of inhaling second-hand smoke? No, thanks.” Tadashi laughs, but he tosses Kei a sideways glance. Tadashi knows him well enough to know that Kei wouldn’t voluntarily stand outside with a smoker unless he was particularly fond of them. 

“Aw, man, I thought you quit?” Hinata pipes up, tilting his head. 

“I did, hot stuff,” you respond, sitting down on the couch. “Don’t worry. I won’t smoke anymore.” 

Hinata huffs and Kei takes the opportunity to sit down next to you. 

His thigh is pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his pants and into his skin. Kei feels like he could explode. You’re so close to him again, closer than before, and he can’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. He’s desperate for it, fidgety with his desire. He keeps thinking about the hot press of your mouth and the languid motion of your tongue. All he can imagine is the few points of contact between you both, mouth and hands, and how badly he wanted it to be more. He needs it. 

You touch him a few times throughout the night and the tension is so palpable that Kei is convinced he can see it. It’s like there is a rope pulled taut between the two of you. If he doesn’t stick his ground, he’ll go flying towards you, grabbing and touching and taking in the way he’s desperate to now. 

After an hour, his friends begin to grow restless. Their faces are flushed with alcohol and the things they’d been amusing themselves with are no longer enough stimulation. 

“Hey, we’re going out to the bars. Who’s coming?” Hinata speaks up. 

A chorus of agreement rings out, but the last thing Kei wants to do is go out.

“I think I’ll probably stay back and start cleaning,” he says somewhat disdainfully. “It’s a mess in here,” Kei tosses you a small glance. It’s unintentional but he’s glad for it because Kei is hoping that you’ll stay back with him, that you both can pick up where you left off. 

“I’ll stay and help too. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow anyway,” you smile and Hinata pouts. 

“You guys are so boring,” he protests. “Leave the mess for tomorrow and come out with us.” 

“I’ll pass, pipsqueak,” Kei scoffs. 

“Fine, but don’t complain to me when you’re full of regret tomorrow,” he points a finger at Kei and then moves it over to you. “And you’re too nice for your own good.” 

“Do you hear that?” You say, beginning to usher the group to the door. “I think it’s the sound of the bar and all that alcohol calling to you guys.” 

“You guys are so full of shit-” Kageyama starts, speaking up for the first time in a while, but Kei just waves him out. 

“Yeah yeah, let the grown ups clean while you guys have fun. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The rope is so taut between you both that it’s unbearable and by the time the door closes, you are spinning around on your heel toward Kei. 

“We’re not cleaning, right?” 

Kei shakes his head and starts towards you. The tension breaks when his hands find your hips and he hungrily leans down to press his mouth against yours. 

This kiss is different from the first, desperate and full of desire. It’s fast and your mouths move together quickly as he starts to walk you back towards his bedroom, his hands eagerly roaming up and down your hips. Vaguely, he acknowledges that his glasses have been moved out of place, but he pays it no mind as you turn the knob to his bedroom door with your back to it. 

There’s an urgency to his movements. Kei feels it in his chest, this desperate desire to be closer, to consume everything that you’ve laid out in the palm of his hand. You stumble backwards into his room and Kei catches your shifted weight with a hand around your waist. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, feeling the warm skin on your jaw and neck. His fingers tremble where they touch you, half out of desperate need and half out of the nerves that threaten to spill from his mouth. His lips though, are occupied with yours, clicking together, all tongue and teeth. 

Kei kisses sloppily down your jaw, his lips smearing across your cheek and dipping down below your ear. He sucks a trail there, unsure if he’s leaving marks, all the way down to your collarbone. Every part of you tastes better than he’d expected it to and with every push he delivers, you pull. 

You make small sounds, little pants and groans that make Kei’s hair stand on end with wanting. Your voice, so familiar and fond to him, spills out in small, breath-like bursts that make Kei want to coax more out of you. Kei’s never been one to want this way, but right now, it’s all that he feels. So much tension and impulse that he feels like he can hardly control himself. 

You reach blindly behind you for the bed and Kei guides you down, placing his hand on one side of you as you sit. Then, without disconnecting your lips, he guides you up toward the wall. 

He feels the cool tips of your fingers at the hem of his shirt, pulling downward and then upward to get him to take it off. Kei obliges you, leaning back on his knees and pulling it off over the top of his head. You eye him for a moment, the two of you slowing down enough as the urgency settles into something heavy and lingering. 

Kei leans forward again, one of his hands reaching for your hip. He slips his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding his long fingers up your stomach as he kisses you again. You’re so soft and he can feel the way your chest heaves against his palm. His touch is feather light and he slides it up evenly until it reaches just below your breast. When you nod, Kei moves it up over your bra and he feels you shudder. Kei does the same, overwhelmed by your pliability. 

He can feel the goosebumps that have raised on your skin, little pinpricks of skin that indicate that some part of you feels good. When Kei squeezes your breast, you gasp into his moan and he groans his response, letting you bite at his bottom lip. 

He feels you suck at his lips and swipe your tongue along the ridge of his mouth. When he opens it to let you in, he’s overtaken by the warmth of the soft muscle. He groans, tilting his head down to kiss you deeper, letting the taste of you spread over his mouth. It’s hot and your breath fans across his face. 

Kei hands drift from your breasts along the sides of your body. He feels the heave of your breath there against your warm skin, his palms resting on your waist. You raise your knees, the sides of them pressing against Kei’s hips. He shifts downwards slowly, dragging his mouth along your skin, past the cloth of your shirt. 

His hands make their way from your waist to your hips as he dips lower. Kei takes off his glasses, already fogged up and in the way. When he meets your eyes, you nod your permission and Kei slips between your legs, his flat palms moving to spread your thighs. 

You’re so warm and soft, so pliable in a way that Kei can’t articulate. It makes his mouth water with his desperation and he’s grown hard against the bedspread beneath him. 

“Touch me,” you breathe out. 

Kei nods into your stomach, looping his fingers around our waistband, and pulls down your pants. Your panties come with it and it’s with a slight wave of regret that he realizes he won’t get to see the way you stick to them. 

When he sees you, his heart leaps into his throat. His eagerness and his nerves catch up to him and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. You shudder when the air hits your exposed cunt, an unintentional side effect of Kei’s nerves that has him grinding down against the bedspread. 

He slides his palm to rest over your center. It’s warm and sticky, wet beyond what Kei had imagined and he gingerly presses a finger between your folds. You gasp, mouth falling open above him. Then, he slides his finger into you to the first knuckle, curling up. Kei goes deeper on the second pump, curling his whole finger inside of you and feeling the way you tighten around him. 

You arch your back up off the bed and Kei groans and rolls his eyes, resting his head on the inside of your exposed thigh. He curls his fingers in you, watching the way they coat with your pleasure. His eyebrows are knit together, like he’s asking whether you like how he touches you or not, and you seem to pick up on his insecurity, nodding your head before letting it tip back against Kei’s pillows. 

Kei thinks your expression is incredible. Your eyebrows pull up in the center, pretty face twisted and mouth slightly open in an expression of undeniable pleasure. Kei’s stomach winds at the look of it and he ruts his hips against the mattress to quell the growing ache of need. His fingers, which curl at a slow and even pace inside of you, are warm with your enjoyment. It leaks between his knuckles, sliding down the back of his hand like a slow moving syrup. He wonders whether you have more to give and how you taste, his gaze slinking from your face to the place just above where his fingers disappear. 

He lowers his mouth to you without thinking, curious and needing the taste of it. Sure enough, you have more to give. Your voice comes quickly, a small gasp that is stifled by the back of your hand when he sucks sharply on your clit. Your hips push forward against his hands and then you arch up off the mattress with a small cry. Kei wonders if you’ve cum. He wonders if he’s sent you over the edge, but if he has, you’re taking all of it so well that he doesn’t dare stop. 

The taste of you spreads on his tongue, tangy and warm. You invade his senses violently, like you are gripping his throat. Kei holds his mouth to you, pressing the length of his cock into the mattress and moving his hips like he plans to fuck it. 

He moves his free hand down your thigh and onto the inside of your leg. Your skin is so soft. It’s so vulnerable, something easily pierced and bled. Kei’s pointer finger rubs gentle circles there, feeling the slight pull of the soft skin with his fingers, so thin that it almost feels like tissue paper. He’s sure that with a little pressure, you would bruise. 

The thought surprises him. He works his tongue across your clit and his fingers against that gummy spot inside of you, but his mind drifts to the softness of your inner thigh, the way it would be so easy to leave a spot that might hurt later when you press on it, remind you of exactly where he was. Then, Kei pinches you on the inside of your thigh and when you cry out, tightening around his fingers with a tapered moan, he pinches you again, harder this time. 

You whimper slightly, like you like it. No, you sound like you love it and Kei finds himself holding back a choked moan as he tries not to cum prematurely. He pinches along the inside of your legs and around the back. Not too much. Only when he feels like it. Only when he wants to hear what kind of sounds you’ll make. 

“K-Kei wait, wait,” you pant, grabbing him by his tufts of blonde hair. It hurts. He doesn’t think you mean to hurt him, but it doesn’t matter. He likes it and he twitches in his pants. 

“Huh?” He hums, detaching from your clit and slowing the movement of his fingers to a halt. Your legs shake around his handiwork. “You okay?” 

“I’ll cum if you keep going like that,” you breathe, screwing your eyes shut like you’re still on the edge. “Drag it out for me, yeah?” 

Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.

“Cum if you want to.” He tilts his head down to reattach his lips. 

“Not yet,” you tug at his hair. “I like chasing it.” 

Kei stares at you, unblinking and awestruck. Your chest heaves and despite the pleasure on your face, you look uncomfortable as your orgasm slips away from you. Kei likes that look on your face and he finds himself growing greedy. 

“Come here,” you coax him onto the mattress. 

Kei watches as you slip your hands into the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, leaving him on his back with his tented boxers exposed. You crawl down his body and settle between his legs with your arms between his thighs. He shudders when you run your hands up them and he briefly sees his boxers jump. 

You smile, pressing your mouth to him through his boxers. Kei can’t stifle the groan that escapes him and heat floods his face when you raise your eyebrows in response. 

“You don’t have to,” he says through gritted teeth as you slip the waistband of his boxers down. 

“But I want to,” you mumble, taking him in your hand and placing a kiss on the side of his dick. 

Kei’s head falls back against the pillow and he swears under his breath when he feels the warmth of your mouth close around the tip of him. He jerks his head up to see, awestruck by the way your lips look around the head of his cock. 

For some reason, Kei is already so sensitive. He feels everything, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue along his slit as you bob your head, he makes a noise he didn’t think he could make. His fingers knot themselves in the bed sheets, white knuckled and trembling while you bob your head over him. 

Your mouth is so warm and wet. It’s a little messy, dripping down the length of him and onto his balls. Kei feels the warmth, the heat of you. He can still taste you on his tongue. Kei can still feel the stickiness left behind from your arousal on his mouth. The combination of you between his legs and the taste of you on his tongue is overwhelming. 

Kei can feel his orgasm growing in his lower stomach, turning over until he’s bringing his long fingers to your head in an effort to steady himself. There’s nothing he can do but give in, watching you through damp eyes as you watch his expression. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly he cums. It doesn’t take long and he teeters on the edge for a few moments before fully cresting over. Kei can’t help the way he lifts his hips from the mattress, his voice caught in his throat as it hooks on a high pitched groan. His voice cracks and he feels the way his cum collects on your tongue and across the tip of his dick in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, red faced and panting, “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to finish so quickly, you’re just-” 

“It’s fine,” you come up, your eyes glassed over and lust-filled. “I like making you feel good.” 

“Yeah but-” 

“No buts,” you crawl over him and straddle his waist. Kei winces when your weight briefly nudges his cock. “There’s still fun to be had. Can I kiss you?” 

He nods and you lean down to do as you’d asked. Your tongue moves slowly against his, less desperate this time, like you’re trying to work him down and back up again. You place your hands on his chest, settling your weight down so that your bare cunt is pressed against his sensitive cock. Kei thinks he might die. 

He brings his hands to your waist, the fatigue creeping from his bones as he digs the pads of his fingers into your fleshy sides. You draw in a breath when he does and it makes Kein feel like he’s tipping sideways with arousal. Everything that you do, right down to the involuntary twitch of your hips or eyebrows, is sexy. 

Kei turns you over, growing hard between your legs again, and gently pins you to the mattress. He kisses you for a moment longer, his lips working clumsily across yours before he pulls away to catch his breath and find his bearings. 

You chase him with your mouth, tilting your head up to kiss him. Kei feels his chest swell with arousal and his cock strains almost painfully against his pants as he peers at you. You’re so pretty. Everything about you is so pretty. On his chest, he can feel your fingers, splayed over his pecks, across his collarbone, and grazing the side of his neck. He leans closer, loving the pressure of your body and the desperation that pours from your skin. 

Kei kisses you again. He kisses you the way he wanted to outside, dipping his tongue into your mouth with a desperation that he can taste. You take control back, reaching between the two of you, and Kei shifts himself upward instinctually to give you access to him. He feels your fingers fumble for him and there’s a pause in which Kei doesn’t know what to do. He wonders if this might be the part of him that you like. The awkward part, the one that doesn’t know what to do. Kei’s thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your hand wrapping around him and tugging upward. 

His head drops and a low groan escapes his lips before he can even think to stop it. Kei’d almost forgotten his sensitivity, how desperately he wants to be touched, how overwhelming it feels. He shivers, looking down at where your hand wraps around him and pumps. When he looks back up, he finds that you’re looking at his face, your eyes glassed over and observant as you commit all of his expressions to memory. 

“What?” he says, letting out a shuddering breath and the slight overstimulation. 

“Your face is red,” you reach up with your free hand to run your thumb along his cheek. 

Kei huffs, dropping his head and you fiddle with something between the two of you.

“No,” you pick his chin up. “I like it. It’s cute.” 

You tighten your grip around him and Kei feels his expression twist, a new rush of heat and desire flooding his belly as he realizes you’re sliding a condom onto him. Then, you guide the tip of him between your legs and he feels the wet press of your entrance against him. 

“Christ,” he groans. 

You smile slightly, shifting your hips a little and then placing your hands on his shoulders. Kei pushes forward slowly, his thighs twitching. It takes everything he has to keep from cumming again and every muscle in his body screams with a desire to let go. 

Kei is so overwhelmed, partially because you feel so good, but also because there is some part of him that knows this feels different. Kei feels different about you, about being intimate with you, than he has with anyone else. There’s something alive in him, something with its own mind. Something greedy and vulnerable that stirs when your face is this close to him, when he’s buried all the way in you to the base of his cock. Emotional and sensitive, Kei feels it kick. 

His first instinct is to run. Agreeing to let himself like you, to let himself do something about it, was not agreeing to letting something live inside of him. Kei’s first thought when he registers the difference is to cut it off and suffocate it so that it stops thumping against his chest. He’d grown so used to the hollow feeling that the feeling of living emotion makes him nervous, it puts him on edge. But when he pulls out a few inches and fucks back into you, the anxiety dispels into insurmountable pleasure. A pleasure Kei can’t describe, something fulfilling and whole. 

He picks up his pace, letting himself do what he wants while you grip his shoulders with blunted nails. He likes the expression you wear. Truthfully, he likes all of your expressions, but this one is new. Pressure and pleasure, a newness to the feel of him inside of you that you can’t quite keep from your eyes or lips. He kisses you as if he could taste it, slipping his tongue between your lips. 

“I really like you,” you mumble against his mouth, breath hot as it fans across his cheeks. 

Kei’s heart hammers and his hips stutter a little. 

“Me too,” he chokes, trying to think about volleyball to stave off a second orgasm. All that comes to mind though, is you. 

“Are you close again?” you breathe, voice laden with pleasure. 

“I have been since we started,” Kei admits. 

“Cum then,” you say softly, reaching behind his head to pull his mouth back to yours. Kei likes the control you exhibit. He groans his approval.

“You first,” he mutters.

There’s this possessive part of Kei that wants to watch you fall apart on him. He wants to see it, to watch you feel good too and commit it to memory so that he can always keep it. He thinks it’s a pride thing, something attached to his desire to succeed, to his reliability. Maybe though, it’s just because he thinks it’ll look hot. 

He reaches down and lifts one of your legs up by the back of your knee, pressing it down to give himself better access. You whine and Kei feels the way you clench down around him, your fingers knitting into the hair at the back of his neck. It hurts in a good way. 

Kei slips his hand between you, rubbing circles on your clit to get you there faster. Frankly, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, staring down at your face while it twists with pleasure. You’re so attractive to him. Everything about you is sexy. It makes Kei a little crazy. 

He listens as your breathing quickens, as your voice wavers further. He feels the way your cunt begins to flutter faster, pulsing around him until you attempt to cry out and warn him. Then, you clamp down around him, arching your hips up off the mattress and pulling at his hair. Kei moves his head with you, relishing in the way you tug and scratch. 

He builds up to his orgasm so fast that it hurts. There’s pressure and then the mounting feeling of nearing the top, and then the peak and crash. He cums so hard that it hurts, pushing his cock as far as it will go into you and feeling the warm spill of his cum in the condom. He moans a long, drawn out sound that you mimic, his fingers knitting into the pillow behind you and his head dropping so that his lips sit near your neck.

He lets out a shaky breath, letting himself sit inside of you for a moment. You turn his head towards yours and kiss him. It’s gentle. A smooth and languid kiss that neither of you moves to deepen. Your lips move against each other and Kei closes his eyes to savor the taste. 

You tap his shoulder and Kei rolls over onto the bed beside you, snapping the condom off with a small wince and tying it up in a quick motion. He places it in the trash bin beside the bed. When he turns over, you’re already moving to slip under his arm, resting your head on his chest. 

There’s a passing moment of silence, not unlike the ones you both have fallen into before and you sigh lightly against his exposed chest. Kei follows suit, watching the way you move with his breath. 

His skin is sticky against yours and Kei can vaguely register the smell of sweat in the room. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since everyone left, nor does he know when they’ll be back, but he estimates that it won’t be more than an hour. Kei briefly wishes that he could pause time so that he can stay here with you, just like this. 

“I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” Kei admits quietly. 

“What stuff?” You ask, tracing your finger along the ridges of his lean abdomen. 

“Liking people,” he says. “Dating.” 

You give a small laugh. “No offense, Kei, but I could tell that from the moment I met you.” 

“Shit, seriously?” 

“Duh,” you breathe out. “It’s a little charming to me, though. I like that part of you.” 

So it’s true. You like the parts of Kei that he’s always worried were the worst of him. 

“Huh,” he says. “Could you tell?” 

“That you like me?” You ask, shifting your head to look at him. “Yeah, it was obvious after we established that you didn’t hate me. I always noticed you staring in the library.” 

“Really? I thought I was being a little slick with that,” Kei feels heat and color flood his face. 

You let out a good-natured laugh. “People can always tell when someone’s staring, Kei. It’s like a sixth sense.” 

“Good to know. Hindsight is 20/20 and all.” 

Another bout of silence follows. 

“You can keep staring though,” you say, “if you want to. And calling.”

“Okay,” Kei responds, “I didn’t really plan on stopping.” 

“Ha, freaky,” you laugh a little and Kei reaches up to flick the side of your head. “Wanna start going out?” 

Kei thinks about this for a moment. He thinks about being able to hold your hand, brush hair out of your face, watch movies on the couch and fix your breakfast the next morning. Then he thinks about not being able to do those things. 

“I think I’d be a little upset if we didn’t,” he admits. 

“Good,” you say. “Me too.” 

He’s fighting off sleep. His eyelids are heavy and he tries to blink away the shroud of rest that’s falling over him. Kei knows you’re fighting it too. Your breathing goes in and out of that familiar breathing that comes with sleep. Kei likes the way it sounds coming from you, restful and quiet. 

“We should… really get up to clean just a little,” he mumbles. 

“Five more minutes,” you say softly, your voice heavy and laden with drowsiness. 

“Okay,” he says. 

It’s just five more minutes. Kei fights sleep to hear you breathe like this a little longer. 

—

There’s a period after which Kei doesn’t know what to do with himself. Like the awkward start to a new hobby or passion, Kei finds himself enthralled with his budding relationship while simultaneously stumbling continuously along the way. You’re gracious with him though, letting him make mistakes and fumble until he finds his footing. 

It’s all very awkward for him, very new. He finds that it’s easier to just do the nice things he wants to do for you than to agonize over it and slowly, he begins to grow comfortable in the relationship that took you both so long to begin. 

At first, only Tadashi knew about you both. Kei thought that there was no point in hiding it from him, since you were over at the apartment all the time. Of course, Tadashi somehow already knew. That’s how it usually goes anyway, and Kei is relieved to find that his internal change did not trigger some global shift that would turn his life upside down. Everything is normal, save for the fact that Kei now tries to love without hindrance. 

Kei discovers that he’s possessive. That’s a new trait of his that he didn’t know belonged to him. Before you, before Kei had found something he so desperately wanted to keep, he’d been rather detached. Possessiveness was rare because Kei hardly ever got attached enough to want. Now though, he wants so badly that it hurts. You lean into it. Kei suspects that you like it when he wards off people who hit on you, when he pouts a little because he wants to be close to you, when he gets a little jealous. Kei doesn’t really mind it either. After all, despite his possessiveness, he never feels insecure. The both of you make sure of that. 

This sunny period with you, the one Kei worried would only last a week, drifts easily from one month into two and before he knows it, it’s been five. Kei had worried about that fundamental change. The one imperceivable to the human eye. He’d worried that slowly, it would begin to spoil what is so good between the two of you. 

“Kei,” you snap him out of it, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you okay?” 

He sets down his cup of tea, barely touched. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” You give him a wry smile. “This was your idea, after all.” 

“Yeah, well it was a pretty shit idea actually,” he breathes, “My parents aren’t exactly easy.” 

“You want to cancel?” You ask, your eyebrows pulling up in a clumsy attempt to hide your disappointment. Kei can see right through it.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I want you to meet them. I just don’t want you to meet them.” 

The truth of it is that Kei would like to cancel. In an ideal world, one where the sun rises on the opposite side of his bedroom window, he’d forget the whole thing and take you out to get dinner and see a movie. Things would be simpler that way, less uncomfortable for the both of you. But as uncomfortable as it is, Kei wants you to be a part of their lives too. You’re too important to not introduce to his parents and Kei can’t see it any other way, though he’d like to. 

You snort. “What does that even mean?” 

Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look. 

“Okay, sorry,” you raise your hands defensively and walk over to place them on his shoulders. “I know you’re worried, but I think it’s going to be okay. I’m excited.” 

Kei huffs out a laugh, unable to vocalize his nerves in their totality. “Excited to meet my dysfunctional, divorced parents that kind of hate each other?” 

“Yup. I’m excited to meet the people who raised you.” 

Kei smiles a little. “You should meet Akiteru, then,” It’s an exaggeration, but for some reason the prospect of seeing both of his parents together has him feeling a little more bitter than usual, even if it was his idea. 

You give him a little grin through narrowed eyes. There’s an understanding that passes from you to him, like you’re acknowledging that you haven’t forgotten what he’d told you nearly six months ago. Kei feels the tension in his shoulders relax a little. 

His parents are already at the restaurant when he arrives. It’s a swanky Italian place. The kind you go to on birthdays or for anniversaries, where the pasta dishes are things like lobster mushroom ravioli or truffle oil fettucini in tiny portions. Kei made sure to book somewhere that his parents would have trouble making a scene in, not that they ever had much of a mind for decorum when they were married. He’s surprised to find them chatting cordially when you both arrive. 

“Kei,” his mother stands from the table and crosses to give him a hug. He pats her back gently.

“Hi Mom,” Kei responds and she gives him a small smile. 

Kei’s dad adjusts the lapel of his suit, the same one he’s had for years, and reaches to give him a hug around one shoulder. 

“Guys,” he inhales, “This is my partner, _____.” 

You grin at Kei and then introduce yourself formally to his parents. Kei watches in awe as you blend right in, like you’ve known them for many years. He sits down while trying to keep the nerves from his face. 

“We’re so happy to meet you,” his mother starts, “Kei’s never introduced us to any of his partners before.” 

“I’m the first?” You smile a little, raising an eyebrow at Kei as if to tease him. 

“There really haven’t been that many to begin with,” Kei grumbles as if that somehow makes it better. 

You laugh again and the ball of conversation begins rolling. His mother tells you how pretty you are and his father nods a quieter approval. They talk about his university’s graduation ceremony, which they attended separately, as if they were together the entire time and then ask about your major, if you graduated with him, where you plan on going. You tell them what you want to do and that you want to go wherever Kei goes. He marvels at how smoothly the evening moves onward.

There are moments where the tension in his family becomes obvious. Little swells or comments that bring up a sour or shameful memory that cannot be ignored. Moments when the air thickens and it feels like the hammer is about to come down. It never does though. The tension, rather than snapping, simply fades away. 

He’d expected everything to blow up for some reason. Kei had expected that, like his childhood, the restaurant dishes would end up smashed on the floor. The glassware always ended up broken in the house, why shouldn’t they be broken here to shatter the illusion of things being good? He braces himself for a ball that never drops.

It takes him until the ride home, after a successful dinner, to realize that the dishes haven’t been smashed in years. Not since he was fourteen and his parents fought for custody. Not since his mother got remarried to her now husband almost 6 years ago and his father met his new wife. Kei wonders why he still feels like he lives in that house. The one his parents were at their worst in. Why can’t he feel like he lives in the apartment he rents with Tadashi? 

“I think that went well,” you say softly on the drive back. 

Kei nods his agreement. “I think so too.” 

You don’t bring up the fact that they didn’t fight, or that they spoke about their new kids with each other as if they were old friends. You don’t accuse Kei of being wrong, of being paranoid even though he most definitely was. 

“I’m glad that I got to meet them,” you say. “You look so much like your mom.” 

“Really?” Kei asks. 

“Yeah, you’ve got her eyes and her nose,” you smile a little. “It makes you two look similar.” 

“Huh,” he says. “I never really gave that much thought.” 

Kei turns the idea that he has his mother’s face over in his head. He’d spent so much time dreading that he was like them on the inside, that he never paused to consider the outside. So much of his life has been spent worrying that he’s just like them. That he breaks the plates and lashes out and acts cruelly even when he’s trying to love. But he has his mother’s eyes and for some reason that unsettles him. It’s like evidence. 

“You don’t really act like them though,” you say as if on cue. “You’re a little gentler.” 

“Me? Gentle?” Kei scoffs. 

“Yeah!” you say. “I mean, sure you’re prickly, but there’s a goodness to you that’s really obvious if you look.” 

Goodness. What a strange word to use to describe someone. Kei thinks that if there’s any goodness in him, if there’s anything that hasn’t been tainted by his parents’ sour personalities, it’s from Akiteru. Kei likes to believe that whatever good he got was from him. No matter how strained his relationship with him might be now, Kei is certain of that. 

“That’s a relief,” he admits in a flat tone. 

After a long pause, he speaks again. “Thanks.” 

“For what?” You laugh. 

“Bearing with me… and with them,” he says. “Couldn’t have been easy.” 

“It was easy,” you say. “Because I wanted to meet them. And I care about you.” 

Kei feels color rise to his cheeks. He turns to look in the sideview mirrors as he pulls the car into a parking spot in his apartment complex’s garage. 

“You say that stuff so easily,” he huffs. 

“What? That I care about you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I do,” you laugh a little.

Kei’s face grows hotter and he distracts himself by putting the car into park and taking the key out of the ignition. 

“Me too,” he says quietly, waiting for you to catch up so that he can take your hand in his. “Sorry that I don’t say it a lot.” 

“Not to be rude,” you say, “but even if you never said it at all, it would be obvious. You’re kind of a sucker.” 

Kei supposes that that’s true and he gives a small laugh before nudging your shoulder with his. The parking garage is humid and stuffy, but he holds your hand in it anyway. 

—

You’re half asleep in bed beside him and your breathing comes in even sweeps the way it does just before you fall asleep. Kei listens to it for a moment, admiring the sound of it and the way your chest feels expanding against his. 

He thinks about dinner, about how good it feels to have introduced you. How real it makes this relationship feel despite the uneasiness surrounding his familial situation. Kei thinks about his parents. He thinks about their inability to be good for each other. He thinks about the worst of them, something he’s familiar with, before thinking about the best of them. Kei imagines the way their faces looked at dinner, talking about the children they’re raising properly. They’re good people, they just made each other bad. Molecular shifts that changed them for the worst. The notebook theory in its most frightening form. But they were good too. 

Kei thinks about loving you. His reluctance to do so originally isn’t quite beyond him yet. He’s unsure, in fact, if he’ll ever really get past the fear of the fall, the fear of becoming what his parents made each other. But he also thinks about his promise to love you for real. Love is not something that Kei does. He knows now that it's something that happens to him, like it happened to his parents. They loved each other once, even if it made them so blind that they couldn’t see just how bad it made them. 

Kei still resents the fact that he was born to fix a marriage that never would have worked in the first place. He resents being a fix rather than a gift, but at the very least, his existence is proof that his parents cared enough about their family to try. Even if it was misguided, at least they tried even a little. 

In the quiet after of an emotionally charged evening, loving you seems like an easier task for him now. It’s not hard to love you. What’s hard, Kei thinks, is not hurting you. He carries a lot of baggage that, for a long while, felt like too much. Kei thinks he can manage if it’s for you. He’ll bear the brunt of it. He’ll put in the work. 

Yes, Kei is his parents’ son, but he’s also Tadashi’s friend, Akiteru’s brother, the person who loves you. He doesn’t live in the house with a bin full of shards and no glassware anymore. 

“Are you awake?” He whispers across the pillow. 

“Mhm,” you hum, pushing your cheek into his arm.

“Let’s move in together,” he says. 

You tense against him and slowly attempt to blink away sleep. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he responds. “I want to live with you.” 

“Okay then,” you smile a little. “Let’s do it.” 

—

In the fall, when his lease with Tadashi ends and his friend gives him a tearful, yet somewhat silly goodbye, Kei moves into your new shared apartment. Two small rooms in a modest part of town, a shared kitchen and living room, one bathroom, a mismatch of furniture from both of your old places, and an empty fridge. The first night is spent eating take out on the floor with you in front of a TV with no proper stand. Kei has never been happier. 

And in the morning, when the sun comes through the slats of his window, broken up into gentle dots by the orange-leaved trees outside, Kei rises slowly. He rises gently. Kei doesn’t want to wake you, not before he’s made breakfast. He pads out to the kitchen, where boxes are strewn about, half unpacked, and grabs the little brown notebook from the box it’s been temporarily living in. In it, he writes a grocery list full of the things you like. It’s a good enough reason, a good enough change. 

The notebook theory. 

[hungharrington]

personally i struggle with emotional vulnerability so im not really an “I love you” person? the words get stuck and feel unnatural

BUT READER GIVINF STEVE A HANDJOB N THE FEELING STRIKES HER. she just rests her chin on his shoulder and does a cheesy movie-esque love stare up at him, all you know how much i love you right? love you sooo much stevie. you’re perfect and make me feel so safe, so loved, love you so much for all of that. love you love you love you love you whispered in time with the movement of her hand. leaving little sucky pecks on the chubs of his cheeks. acting as if nothings new when it’s all done, idk if he’d point blank ask or imply but just a “:] hmm? oh, i dunno what you mean stevie :]”

BABEY this was such a 10/10 request like…. the way i sent this to at least 3 different moots when i got it…. ur brain…. so have some subby!steve & as always it’s so in love MDNI this entire blog is 18+, i know the request is for a fem!reader but i’ve kept it gn!reader, 1.1k words, enjoy! <3

You don’t think there’s a prettier sight than how Steve looks when you have your fingers wrapped around his cock.

Cheeks bright flushed pink, eyes screwed up, his chest rising and falling quickly, the muscles beneath his tummy clenching and rippling as you move your hand up and down as fast as you please. 

He’s making those sweet noises you just adore so much — little low moans, each breath laced with a keen that you know will turn into a whimper when he gets closer to the edge. All of his noises go straight between your thighs but right now isn’t about you. It’s about Steve.

The couch cushions press into your legs as you shift, rearranging to be closer to him. You hook your chin over his shoulder, you spare hand creeping up his back, slow and soothingly. The wet sounds of his dripping cock sound fucking heavenly, doused in his soft quiet moans, as you curl your fingers into his hair. Raking them through, your thighs press tighter together when Steve lets out a particularly loud moan. 

“Mm, feeling good, Stevie?” You talk lowly, so close you know he can hear you. You press a kiss into his shoulder, nuzzling your nose along down to his collarbone, your hand fucking his cock a little bit faster. Steve keens, fighting to keep his hips still, trying to be good. His hands clench into fists at his sides. 

He’d had such a day and you had offered to take care of him and Steve just wants to be good for you. 

He nods quickly to answer your question, creasing his eyes open to meet yours and you feel his cock twitch at the sight of your adoring gaze on him— chin on his shoulder, hand gliding his cock so perfectly, dropping another kiss on the exposed skin of his shoulder. 

“Yes, fuck, yes— your hand is always so good, baby.” Steve pants lightly, eyes still fixed on you. They drop to your lips and you don’t deny him, pushing up and leaning in to kiss him. He’s messy with it, not quite the usual practice he has and when you thumb over his slit, Steve groans into your mouth. He breaks the kiss, a high whine escaping his mouth, hips jumping up to meet your hand. 

His forehead drops, leaning against yours and you lean in again, your next kiss on his cheek. 

“Good, y’so good baby. You know how I love you, right?” You murmur, nearly cooing, right as you scrape your fingers through his hair again. Steve shudders beneath you, his eyes cinched shut but a whimper still slips from his throat, loud and high. You speed up your hand, the squelching of it getting louder and louder. 

“Shit,” Steve curses, peeking his eyes open. “Y’can’t say tha- that right now or— ah— I’m gonna cum in a minute.” 

“Love you soooo much, Stevie,” you continue like you haven’t heard him, twisting your hand in that torturous way while your other hand strokes down the nape of his neck, your touch soft with love. Steve gasps loudly, his hips bucking again and all his moans melt into soft whimpers. You kiss his cheek again, nuzzling your nose against his as your adoring words pour out. 

“You’re perfect f’me, you know?” You whisper, your thumb teasing his tip again. Steve whines, his chest heaving with his whimpering heavy breaths. You can see his hands flexing, forming and reforming fists over and over. “You make me feel so safe, so loved, Stevie, love you so much for that.” 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes. He sounds so wrecked for you, voice all raspy from his moans. “Fuck, honey- you can’t just— nghm—“ 

“Love you,” you whisper lovingly, your hand twisting into his hair again and tugging lightly. You speed up your hand tugging his heavy cock, heat bubbling in your tummy at how it leaks all over your hand, the head of it flushed bright pink. You kiss his cheek again sloppily. 

“Love you, love you, love you so much,” You say, drinking in his fucked out expression— brown eyes hidden away, pink lips parted in a whine, his blush standing out against his tan skin. Steve trembles against you, breathing jagged. 

“You can’t—“ He whines softly. “I’m gonna— oh fuck, baby—“

“You can.” You hush him sweetly, another kiss to his shoulder. “C’mon, you can, Stevie. Wanna see you cum f’me, baby, wanna see you cum while I tell you how much I love you, yeah?” 

Steve heaves a deep stuttering breath, his hands finally moving from his sides to grip at your shirt— his fingers twist in and he tugs you impossibly closer. His face turns to hide in your neck as his whimpers start to catch, hips bucking up uncontrollably into your fist. Sweet whiney noises pour into your skin as his orgasm builds up and up — you sweep your hand along the back of his neck again and say it again, a low loving whisper of “I love you,” and Steve breaks. 

His whine is so noisy as the first stream of cum dribbles from his cock and when you don’t slow your pace, you feel his lips part and his teeth sink into your shoulder lightly. He whimpers pathetically, his top half turned to cling to you while you work all his hot cum from his cock, painting your hand and his thighs with it. 

“Mm, so good, love you Stevie, love how well you did for me,” Your murmurs tide Steve over until his soft whines of pleasure turn to whimpers of overstimulation and you finally release his cock. Your hand moves to thigh instead, giving a soft rub as you try to coax his face out. 

“That was big, huh? You came a lot.” Your gaze wanders to his cum-streaked thighs and you can’t help the tiny giggle that titters out of you — it’s enough to get Steve to lift his face. He’s so pink still that it makes you want to coo at him. He looks only a smidge embarrassed, more blissed out than anything. 

“I told you,” He huffs breathlessly, a lazy smile on his face as his head lolls back to rest against the couch. “You can’t say that and expect me not to…” 

He gestures wordlessly to his crotch and you laugh a little, snuggling back up to him. You kiss his neck, nosing up to kiss his jaw and Steve waits patiently, humming happily when you reach his lips. 

You pull back with a teasing smile, “I know but I don’t expect it to keep working every time.” 

Steve waves a hand, eyes slipping closed as his lazy grin spreads. “Mmhmm, liar. You know what it does to me.” 

His words are lovingly, like he loves that you know what he loves. You kiss his cheek once more. 

“Yeah, I do,” you admit gleefully. “And I love it nearly as much as I love you.” 

Steve’s dick gives a soft twitch against his thighs and he groans, face screwing up for a second. “Don’t,” he warns. He opens his eyes to glare at you but there’s no heat. You grin and kiss him again. 

[lust4lore]

ARFARFARF so down bad for brattamer n casually dominant(by nature) kinda dark rafe n bimbo reader🤭🤭 imagine reader talkin to a random stranger in a bar or club or whateva she thinks its js a friendly interaction n shit after that rafes js there thinking 150 ways how to kill the guy for flirting wit his pretty little thing then she says it was a nice friendly convo n hes like whst???? yeah ahaha.... im obsessed pls forgive me

OH THIS GOT THE JUICES FLOWINGGG

the creative juices. get your head out of the gutter. that being said, thank you for your request! i hope i did it justice

CW: controlling!rafe, mildly dark!rafe, mmm kinda breaking my own guidelines w this one but VERY slight domestic violence? you get the point, manipulation

rafe cameron likes pretty things. so much, in fact, that he had known he was done for the second he saw you. you were cute— innocent— in a pink silk dress, ribbon in your hair and a sweet smile tugging at the corners of rosy lips. he just had to have you, and a year later, he did.

another well known fact about rafe cameron, though, is that he doesn’t share. and so, imagine his surprise when he comes back from the bathroom to see some man talking to you at the bar. he watches you for a moment, the rage settling in his veins enough to get his jaw clenching as you bat your eyelashes and giggle at whatever stupid joke that bastard just told you, pretty lips sucking at your straw as his gaze flickers down to your chest.

now that has rafe seeing red. he comes up behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist and causing you to slightly stumble back at the force of it. “hey, baby, who’s this?” he asks, fingers lightly twitching against your stomach. if you’re aware of the waves of fury radiating from him, you do nothing to show it, turning around in his hold with a naive smile and bright eyes. “rafey! this is alex, he wants to be friends,” you tell him, gesturing towards that sick perver— alex— behind you. “oh, does he?” he asks, but rafe isn’t talking to you, not really. if looks could kill, your new ‘friend’ would be further than six feet under the ground. “y’know, alex, i think my girl has enough friends already,” he squeezes your side, glancing down at you. “don’t you think, sweetheart?” the grasp he has on your waist tightens, fingers digging into your skin in a way that’ll probably bruise later.

you tilt your head, a crease forming between your brows as you lower your voice. “rafe, what- ow!” you yelp quietly as his iron grip bores into your ribs. he pays you no mind, though, still fixing alex with a chilling, eerily calm smile. “shit, man, i’m sorry, i’ll- m’gonna head out now,” the shorter boy mutters, looking intimidated as he staggers backward and rushes out the door. rafe gives a quiet chuckle at that and one of his hands grabs your wrist, yanking you closer. tears prick your eyes as he nearly cuts off the circulation in your hand, leaning in close to your face. “the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh? letting other guys flirt with you like that?”

you let out a whimper at his harsh words, a tear rolling down your pretty face. “he was jus’ being nice, i-” you whisper, and a hint of satisfaction cuts through his anger. look at you, you need him, who else’ll be there to protect you from all of those gross guys trying to get a piece of his sweet girl? he sighs, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears off of your cheeks. “c’mon, doll, you know better, did you see the way he was lookin’ at you?” you just look up at him, tears still sitting in your waterline as he presses a kiss to your trembling lips. “i didn’t mean to make you upset, a’ight? m’just trying to protect you,” he murmurs, and you instantly feel a little guilty for the way you reacted. “m’sorry, i didn’t know he was-” but rafe shushes you, stroking your cheek gently.

“s’okay, baby, you’ll remember who you belong to when we get home,”

[awkward-fink]

Waiting for them to come Home (Part 2)

(Because I forgot to add some of the men we all love, didnt I?) Just imagine you are back on the couch, waiting for days now, your body laid out on the cushions, a soft blanket draped over you to protect you from the chill of the night. And you wait for the door to open, for your lover, your husband, your better half to finally come home again.

Alejandro doesnt try to be silent, even though it is the middle of the night, his gear thumping to the floor and his footsteps surely carrying him towards the kitchen first, opening the still warm pot to swipe a finger through the food, tasting it greedily. But soon he walks towards the living room, finding you and a brilliant smile lights up his face. He is quick to scoop you up and over his shoulder, hands splayed on your ass as he carries your spluttering and quickly awakened form up the stairs, promising to make up for lost time. His hand never leaves your ass all the way up, feeling and groping as he goes, body already burning. 'Mi armor, wake up, i brought some presents for you and the biggest of them is me!'

Rodolfo, that sweet big man, is quiet as he comes into your shared home. He knows you are surely waiting for him, you had always done it when he was late from his assignments. And lo and behold, there you are, curled around his pillow on the couch. A soft smile on his lips, he kneels beside you, caressing your cheeks and whispering softly to you. His big hands easily lift you into his arms, his cheek against yours, further whispering sweet nothings into your ear, soft kisses trailing along your nose until you scrunch it just the way he loves, waking you softly before he takes you to bed with you. 'Told you so often you dont need to wait up, Love. Warms my heart though, so good to me. Don't worry, im not gonna let you outta bed until I had my fill of your kisses.'

Horangi is a strange mixture of reactions. On one side, he always told you to not wait up, to sleep in the bed and be comfortable, he wouldnt mind. On the other hand, seeing you sleeping on the couch, clearly waiting for him to come back, has his heart just slightly racing, as if he had the dice in his hand and was only one throw away from the biggest Jackpot of his life. He hesitates for a second, just taking in your pose, his smile turning into an amused smirk as he sees you drooling in your sleep. Will take a picture to blackmail you with in the morning before unceremoniously putting you over his shoulder and climbing up the stairs, laughing at your sleepy mumbles and your hands steadying yourself on his hips and ass. 'Don't worry Byeolbit (my starlight, if Goggle is correct...), you can touch that some more in just a few minutes. After we both took a shower, one of us reeks and I am not sure its me.' Will pull you with himself under the shower, doesn't care about your PJ's or your sleepdrunk state.

König doesnt know what to do. He is big and burly and strong and he is scared to touch you, you look like a small doll so cosily curled up on the cushions and he really doesnt want to wake you but if you sleep like *this* its gonna be hell on your back and neck and he doesnt want it. That big man is fluttering helplessly around you, hands reaching out before pulling back without touching you, nearly whining underneath his breaths in indecision before he finally, after minutes, settles on poking your cheek gently. 'Liebling (Love, Honey), you awake? You are gonna hurt in the morning... Let me... Let me just...' His words taper off as you blink drowsily at him, so comfy but also so very happy he is home that you cling to him like a koala. His big arms wrap around you, his face flushing so bright he wonders if you can see it shining red in the darkness of your shared home. He is so very careful with every step he climbs up the stairs, one arm around your back, the other underneath your ass as he carries you without problem.

[cemetery-sunset]

Hat Thief pt. 2 - Micah Bell x Morgan!Reader

Summary: After Reader stole Micah's hat playfully, Arthur catches her wearing it and is not happy.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings / Tags: morgan!reader, she/her pronouns, fighting

A/N: i said this would be just a oneshot and look at us now, im not even mad about it. divider from: @saradika-graphics

After she ran away from Micah’s shouts, she went around the big, white house to the other side of the camp. She saw Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen sitting at their wagon, working on their sewing and washing. 

“Hey, ladies!” Her smile was nearly splitting her face as she tipped her hat to her friends. They immediately took notice. 

“Honey…” Mary-Beth started, trying to approach the subject respectfully. 

“Where’s your hat?” Tilly cut her off.

“Oh, it’s just inside, why?” She turned and gestured to the big house. 

“No reason…” Mary-Beth tried to play it cool, glancing at her friends. They all had matching looks of concern donning their faces. 

“Why the hell is you wearin’ Mr. Bell’s hat?” Karen rudely asked, spitting venom on the man’s name. She always said it like that, everyone did. Nobody ever called him his name kindly, or with respect. It was always venomous… and he was always venomous in return, it was a never ending cycle. 

“I stole it from him.” She smiled, slightly laughing as she said it. She made it a point to be over dramatic and pose with it. 

“I think it looks good on me, right?” The trio sat stunned, looking up at their friend. 

“If your daddy sees you in that-” Mary-Beth tried to remain civil. 

“What the hell is Arthur gonna say?!” Karen got all too worried and loud. 

“You gotta give that back.” Tilly kept her head and only spoke logically. 

“Why would you even take his hat anyway?” Tilly added as Mary-Beth looked around their friend, trying to scope out if Arthur was anywhere in sight. He was not. 

“Well, I just…” The thief trailed off, her face flushing as she failed to find the words to admit her intentions. 

“I thought it would be funny to mess with him!” She shook her head and tried to keep up a cool facade. 

“There are plenty of ways to mess with Mr. Bell that don’t require givin’ your father a heart attack OR spreading rumours ‘round camp….” Karen said, glancing at Tilly and Mary-Beth for a moment before focusing on her friend. 

“You… do know what it means to wear a man’s hat, don’t you?” Karen asked, not wanting to embarrass or scare off her friend. 

“Karen Jones! I would not- I mean I don’t- That’s improper!” The thief flushed bright red. The truth was that she did know what it meant, she knew it all too well. Her intentions were only to flirt with Micah and mess with him a little… she didn’t plan this far, after her moment with Micah.

The girl all erupted in a chorus of laughing and comments in disbelief. They tried to ask her more questions, but the thief was too embarrassed at being caught. 

“You can’t like Micah, honey, he’s horrible!” Mary-Beth said, trying to comfort her. 

“I don’t like him!” The thief tried to retaliate, but got cut off. 

“Then why’d you take the hat?” Tilly asked. 

“And more importantly, why is you still wearin’ it?” Karen nearly laughed. 

The thief’s face could not possibly get any more red. She threw up her hands, and pushed the hat further onto her head. 

“That’s IT! I’m done with y’all! I don’t like him!” She stormed off like a child being caught red handed. 

“This isn’t going to be good. I hope she gets rid of that thing ‘fore Arthur gets back.” Mary-Beth said, worried about the possible chaos. 

As the thief was walking, she reached up and touched the brim of the large, off-white hat. The feeling of the hat, the texture of it felt nice on her hands. It felt different than her hat, it was nice. She didn’t realise a small smile was on her face until she reached the main campfire in front of the big house. 

The thief sat down on the log by the fire, just enjoying the sight. Nobody else was around the fire, there was just Reverend on his bedroll, but he was passed out. The thief just gazed into the fire, and sat back, crossing her legs and humming a tune, enjoying the peace and quiet. 

She heard someone walking around, she didn’t care enough to look up and see who it was. She failed to see Micah come around the side of the house, coming closer to the fire before redirecting to sit at the main table. Micah gave up on chasing his thief, he knew that she was just playing, there was no harm. For once, he was content to just let her have it. 

Pearson was busy chopping food and preparing dinner. Uncle came stumbling to the fire before plopping himself down in a seat and starting to ramble to nobody in particular. The thief watched Kieran walk around and tend to the horses. 

It was nice to sit and enjoy the peace and quiet for a while. 

As she was watching Kieran brush The Count, she saw her father come riding down the long pathway with John and Charles right behind him. She smiled and waved, but didn’t bother to get up from the log. Micah didn’t look up at all, he was too enraptured by his own thoughts as he watched the knife in his hands slide against a piece of wood. 

“Hey, Pa!” The thief said cheerfully, before greeting his two companions. 

“Get anythin’ good?” Arthur vaguely gestured to Charles as the man held up a string of fish. 

“Got some nice bass, mostly.” Her father responded, distracted from his own tiredness. The trio tied up their horses and walked further down the entry’s path. 

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up to see his only daughter wearing the hat of the man he hated the most. The thief herself had her eyes closing and her head leaning back, enjoying the last licks of sunlight on her face. 

“Darlin’.” He spoke, his voice cold. The thief’s head jumped up and looked at her father, knowing something was wrong just by that tone, but not realising what it was. Before she could even ask what was wrong, he cut her off. 

“Why the hell are you wearing that hat?” John and Charles looked at each other before Charles put the fish down on Pearson’s table, focusing his attention back onto his best friend. 

The thief jumped out of her seat, immediately standing rigid. She looked up and went to step over the log and take the hat off of her head. At that point, Micah’s attention was captured. He stood up and tried to defend himself. 

“Hold on now, Morgan. I didn’t do nothing-” 

“Pa! It’s not what you’re thinking! I was just messin’- I mean- I stole it! He didn’t give it to me, or nothing!” She tried to comfort her father, but his vision turned red. 

“Micah, you sonuvabitch!” Arthur moved so quickly, he grabbed Micah by the collar and swung at his face, clocking him hard on his nose. 

“You bastard! You touch my fuckin’ daughter?!” Arthur screamed in his face. 

“No! Wait- Pa!” The thief tried to reason with her father, but it was no use. Arthur pushed the man away and swung at him again. This time he missed, but Micah retaliated with the knife in his hand, trying to scare Arthur away. Micah kept trying to shout that he didn’t do anything, but everybody’s shouts were lost in the hustle. 

As Arthur and Micah fought, Charles and John jumped forward to try and pull them apart. The thief held onto the hat over her chest and could do nothing but watch. 

Each man got a few good licks in before they were pulled apart. Micah’s bottom lip was busted and bleeding. Arthur had a new cut on his arm from Micah’s knife. 

They kept shouting at each other even as they were separated. 

“You’re so stupid, Morgan! I didn’t do nothing! Your girl stole my hat!” 

“If you ever touch her, I will make sure it’s the last thing you ever do, Micah! Keep your dirty paws away from my daughter!” 

The thief could only stand there in shock, completely frozen at the scene in front of her. This was all her fault. Her father got hurt because of her…. Micah got hurt because of her.  

Charles had his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and steered him away from the area, instead pushing him to the doors of the house. Arthur thrashed out of Charles’ arms, only to grab his daughter. He grabbed her arm and ripped Micah’s hat out of her hands, throwing it to the ground.

John pushed Micah away, toward the side of the house, cursing him off. Micah grumbled and stormed away, cursing off everyone that looked at him. 

“What the hell did you do?!” John’s voice was less cold, like her fathers, and more genuinely concerned.

“You’re lucky I didn’t just kill him!” Arthur struggled to control his volume as he, his daughter and Charles walked up the stairs to the Morgans’ room. 

“I know- I mean, I didn’t mean for this to happen-!” She tried to explain herself before her father cut her off. 

When they got to their room, Arthur pushed his daughter to sit down on his bed. He, and Charles, towered over her. Charles remained silent as his friend scolded her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“Okay. Let me just try to wrap my head around this…” Arthur rubbed his hand over his face, with a hand on his hip. 

“You… you…” Arthur struggled to find the words, not wanting to say something embarrassing or weird about his own daughter.

As much as she wanted to just sit there, her head hanging in embarrassment, she knew she had to explain. 

“I was just bored, Pa…” She started, looking up at her father. 

“I thought it would be funny to steal his hat. We didn’t…… He didn’t do nothing, I promise.” Arthur took a deep breath and looked at his daughter, his only child, his pride and joy. 

“Can you just promise me one thing, darlin’?.... Never go near him again. Keep your distance. Do not involve yourself with Micah. He ain’t a good man, hun…” The thief looked disappointed, yet covered it up by smiling at her father. 

“Of course, I know he’s trouble, Pa…” She stood up and held Arthur’s hands. His voice softened. 

“I’m just worried about you, sweetpea. You know that.” She smiled and hugged her father, acknowledging his anxieties. 

“I know, Pa…. I got to go clean my guns ‘fore our job tomorrow.” She smiled sweetly and said her goodbyes to her father. 

As she was walking down the stairs and out the doors, she heard her father’s voice yell once more. 

“If I ever catch him touchin’ you, I’ll kill him!!” The thief winced at the warning as she snuck out the front doors. 

[irisintheafterglow]

rn im so obsessed with dabi and gojo, so may i request a fic where reader, in the middle of the night, clings onto dabi/gojo while they sleep. like, they subconsciously cuddle them

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE (finally writing for dabi) TURN IT UP !! also apparently i have the same birthday as him???? so like basically we're soulmates-

you don't know what else to say when you hear him slide open your window.

"ew."

"a pleasure to see you too, doll," he mutters in amusement, slipping off his shoes and leaving them on the ledge. "and here i was hoping you'd miss me."

"not in your wildest dreams." like clockwork, he makes to climb under the covers with you but you stop him with a sleepy but firm shake of your head. he gives you a look like you'd just told him to jump off a building.

"you serious?"

"shower first, then you can come in here."

"c'mon, sweetheart. i'm exhausted," he drawls and you nearly break, trying your hardest to glare at those stupidly bright eyes and infuriatingly soft smile. "let a man rest a little, yeah?"

"nope." you flip over to your other side as he scoffs at your back. when he believes you're asleep again, quiet footsteps creep toward the space beside you and the mattress sinks with the weight of his leg carefully positioning itself by yours. "shower or i'll freeze your balls off," you growl half-heartedly, very much still awake. he's not deterred in the slightest.

"you wouldn't dare." an arm drapes possessively over your lower torso and you fight the instinct to melt into him.

"wanna find out, hothead?" he clicks his tongue and lightly squeezes your hip. he was trying all his tricks tonight, but you'd learned how to pretend to be immune. "touya."

"mmm?"

"shower, please."

"the things i do for you," he murmurs in defeat, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before sulking off to the bathroom. you drift in and out of sleep during the time he's gone, vaguely registering the sound of the pipes creaking and the smell of his body wash. before you know it, the noise of the hair dryer ceases and your bedroom door creaks open again. this time, when he slips into the blankets with you, you don't protest as he pulls you flush against his body, your back against his chest. his chin finds the junction of your shoulder and his hair tickles the back of your neck. his warm breath exhales deeply against your skin. "you smell like me."

"ran out of shampoo," you lie and you can feel his mouth curl into an arrogant smirk. "and there's no way in hell i'm using twice's."

"it's okay to just admit that you miss me, baby," he teases and you roll your eyes. "say that you were sad and be done with it."

"go to hell," you grunt and you feel his chuckle over your body. after you finally drift off again, you turn to bury your face in his neck. his arms secure themselves around your body and you barely need the blanket anymore from how warm he naturally runs. he hums in contentment, bathing in the way that you didn't see him as the monster the rest of society did. he'd rather die than be a danger to you, to have you fear him in a way where he couldn't hold you closer when you needed him. he loved your biting tongue and your razor-sharp wit, but he also loved how you trusted him to protect you while you rested. he was safe for you.

and, even if he never admitted it aloud, you were safety for him, too.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[eywa-eveng]

ɪɪ. sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴊᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʟʟʏ, sᴜʟʟʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.3k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst, fluff

ᴡᴀ��ɴɪɴɢs – widower!Jake, slight injury

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪᴠ

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪsᴛ – @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @amiets2 @neteyamforlife @itscheybaby @sunrays404 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @eternallyvenus @bobojojoba69 @behindthearcane @elegantkidfansoul @goldenmoonbeam @ladylovegood-69 @myheartfollower @pinkiemme @arminsgfloll @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @onlyreadz

A storm rolled in with the darkness of eclipse, shutting the bright eye of the sky as swollen clouds blotted out the pale light of Naranawm and the stars. Wind howled through the night like screaming banshees, and waves hissed as they crashed to shore. Even now the water is still dark and turbulent, choked with seafoam as the waves rise as high as leaping nalutsa past the safety of the seawall. The small outcroppings of sand and stone are drowned in the rising tide as the storm rages on. Now, it is close to midday but the only light bleeding through the thick covering of clouds comes in bright flashes of lightning that rend the sky in splinters of gleaming white. It is as dazzling as it is dangerous.

The waves have grown high enough to splash over the hanging paths that flow like woven rivers throughout the village, wetting your feet as you return from your sister’s marui. Rain means the day is spent inside, away from the fitful waters that could easily trap even the strongest swimmer of the clan. It is a time for menial tasks, weaving, crafting, and mending. Ronal had traded your finished baskets for another filled with freshly dyed sea fronds and shells she had collected, dismissing you for the day. You sift through the materials on your way home, nearly tripping over Tuk as she sits outside your marui. 

Her legs hang dangerously over the edge of the path, the strength of the tide pushing and pulling her skinny limbs as it so pleases. Another wave could sweep her away from your marui and you’re quick to pull her away, tutting over her lack of sense until you remember this is the first storm that’s passed over Awa’atlu since her arrival. Storms do not shake the forest as they do the sea. Your arm catches her waist, lifting her to your hip to carry her inside. She is already chattering about how dull the day has been having been confined to her family’s marui all morning. 

“It is only rain.” She says as you set her down inside. She stays at your side, pacing in your shadow as you relight the torches that substitute the sun’s light. Soft shadows shiver and jump in the warm glow of the flickering firelight, tracing dark shapes across the woven walls as Tuk explores your home. It is her first time here and you don’t mind her curiosity as she leafs through your belongings. There is nothing secret to be found in the things that fill the space of your home. She stops before your weapons, yellow eyes drawing over the sea crystal blade of your largest spear. It is a weapon meant for battle and hunting. Every member of the clan has one, but you are not a hunter nor a warrior. It is something you’ve seldom touched since its construction following the completion of your rites as one of the People. Instead you keep to smaller spears and arrows when weapons are needed. 

“Rain makes the ocean hostile. Even the strongest swimmers can be trapped under a tall wave. It is best to stay out of the water until the storm has passed.” 

“But it’s so boring!” She grouses, coming up beside you with your box of beads and combs in hand. “Sa’nok, can I play with your hair?” You nod, having settled yourself to begin making something of the supplies your sister had given you. There are glimmering shells and beautifully made beads, enough to keep your hands busy for hours to come. By the time someone else comes rushing into your marui you’re nearly done knotting together the intricate pattern of a new top. Neteyam looks frantic as he ducks inside the closed flap, wiping rain from his brow. 

“Sa’nok, have you seen–Tuk!” He calms as soon as he sees his sister seated happily at your side, fingers still playing in the long waves of your hair. Her braids are thick and clumsy as she threads shells and beads into each loop but she seems content with the work she’s done. She’s gentle in her work, never pulling or tangling as she goes. 

“I have been looking for you. Do not go off without saying where you are going. You know Sempul doesn’t like that.” In the corner of your eye you see Tuk’s ears droop and she moves in closer to you, hands holding your arm for comfort as she hides her face in your hair. Neteyam’s expression softens at the sight. His voice may be lighter with youth but when he speaks it carries the weight of Jake’s words. He is the eldest son, a heavy burden to bear. It is expected that he will look after his siblings as well as his father does and the stress of it must prick at his heart the same as it does any parent’s. More so considering the blame that is laid at his feet when he fails to meet his father’s expectations. You’ve seen it when Lo’ak got himself into trouble, the great disappointment shining in Jake’s eyes as he blamed one son for the actions of another. If there are cords twining the Sully family together it pains you to imagine how frayed each of them might be. Neteyam to Lo’ak, Jake to his sons. It makes your heart heavy to think of the pain each of them bears trying to keep each other safe and happy, but it is the nature of a family. Just as the thread between you and Ronal had grown thin upon the Sullys’ arrival these things can be mended with time. It is the way of the All Mother’s great balance. In life there is both darkness and light and both must be felt equally despite the pain of it. 

“I’m not mad, Tuk,” Neteyam says finally, kneeling beside you and his sister. “I was worried.” She nods and moves from her place hidden in the thick tresses of your hair. The two of them remain by your side, talking between themselves as you continue your crafting. 

The storm wanes as the day comes to a close, thick clouds parting enough that the tied flap of the marui can be raised once more. Neteyam does it for you, eager to help when you mention the quieting winds. What had been incessant howling earlier has soothed to a soft whisper that has warmed in the soft, misting rain. The tide is still high but the water isn’t so choppy without great gusts of wind stirring the water. Tuk is quick to abandon her braiding to bask in the revealed light of eclipse. For a few minutes there’s nothing but brilliant yellow light cast over the island before it winks out like a torch being snuffed. Light is quick to return as the stars begin to shine and the darkened ocean finally finds its light as the stilled waters give way to the faint glow of syuratan hidden beneath the wavering surface. Tuk hangs over the edge, little legs kicking in the air as she sticks her head into the calmed waters. She rises with a giggling splash accompanied by the clicking of an ilu as the larger animals finally emerge from their shelter beneath the floating village. 

The rest of Awa’atlu resurfaces as well, breathing a great sigh of relief as if rising after a long dive. Children just as restless as Tuk rush to the water’s edge and she goes to play with them a small ways down the path. Her voice is still clear as you begin to prepare for dinner, lighting a cookfire and gathering ingredients. Usually the meals you prepare at home are for yourself only so it is a welcomed change to have more mouths to feed. Happiness swells like cresting waves in your chest as you watch the two of them eat, enjoying the food you’ve made for them. It is another moment of stolen motherhood. They are not your children but you feel responsible for them. For their health, for their happiness. 

It is not only because you were tsakarem. There will always be a piece of you that wants to look after the members of your clan but these children–Jakesully’s children–feel different when you think of them. It makes your heart break and mend all at once as Tuk makes herself comfortable in the cradle of your folded legs when she’s done eating, content to fall asleep against your chest as you talk with Neteyam. Your conversation is aimless as you speak over the dying cookfire, torches slowly dwindling their light until there’s only the blue glow of Pandora around you. He tells you of his exploration around the island and his training with Ao’nung and the others. 

“They laugh at me because I cannot throw a spear. I was taught to use a bow. Throwing arrows without it seems strange.” His complaint holds no malice. There is a smile playing on his lips. No longer are the arguments between the children rife with malice. Now there are only well humored jokes between friends, like teasing siblings.

“You will learn,” you hum. “It is hard to master a spear. I could not throw in a straight line for many months when I was first learning. Ao’nung was the same. Watch when you’re training. Sometimes he will still throw a bit to the left. Learning when to release takes patience.” 

It’s in the pale light that Neteyam’s face seems to change, drawing into a severe expression as his eyes empty of mirth despite your light tone. When he looks up at you again there’s something heavy and longing in his eyes. 

“I don’t know if ma sempul has said it, but thank you. For everything. I know that we are outsiders and that tsahìk Ronal did not want us here to start. But you have made this place feel like home for us. For me.” Your lips part to say something but all that forms on your tongue is his name, filled with a heavy maternal anguish. Here is this child taken from his home and all that he’s known because there are demons looking for his blood. He is fighting. Everyday he has to fight to find happiness here under such dire circumstances. There are times when you see them forget, when Awa’atlu truly seems like home but the soul doesn’t forget where it’s been. 

“Oh, Neteyam,” you say again, trying to reach for him. He lets you comfort him for only a moment before standing. 

“It is late. My father will be wondering where we are.” And like that the illusion shatters. You are not his mother. It is not your place to soothe and placate. It’s a small miracle that he does not take Tuk from your arms, that he lets you walk beside him back to his marui. Jake is still awake though Kiri and Lo’ak have gone to sleep for the night. He takes Tuk from you to lay her down in her usual place and you take a steadying breath before placing a hesitant hand on Neteyam’s head. His shoulders raise for a moment, tail stiffening behind him before he slowly relaxes and leans into your touch. 

He wants to be comforted, you realize, but it seems that he’s gone without for so long that he’s forgotten how to accept it. Not for the first time your thoughts stray to his mother. She’s little more than a wisp of a thought in your mind, vague and undefined. It’s the one thing you can’t bring yourself to ask them about despite the itching in the back of your head to know even as little as her name. But the thought of her must be like a healing wound to the family she’s left behind and you won’t be the one to tear at their scars until they’re bleeding anew. 

Neteyam leans against your side, not hugging but allowing you to smooth over his braids for a moment longer until he squares his shoulders and steps away. His eyes are towards his feet, avoiding your knowing gaze as he bids you goodnight. There’s a hesitance in his steps as if he is forcing himself towards his own bedroll in the marui. Whatever comfort he has taken in your gentle touch has soothed and disturbed his soul in equal parts. There’s conflict in his eyes when you finally see them flashing in the darkness of their home. He wants to accept your affection but something is holding him back. Before you can ask Jake takes his son’s place beside you, pulling you away from the sleeping children towards the beach. The water is colder than usual and nearly to your knees as the shore is buried beneath the heightened tide. 

“I missed you today.” He says as he pulls you further into the water. There are others around, already enjoying the ocean’s embrace after going a day without it. The air is filled with the hushed sounds of laughter and lapping water. 

“I heard you were out hunting.” Ronal had given you simple chores today but Tonowari was nowhere to be seen each time you went to deliver your mending and weaving to your sister. You assumed he’d taken a small party inland to hunt in the flooded rivers as they usually do when the ocean becomes inhospitable. Jake has proved to be a skilled hunter in the time since he’s arrived at Awa’atlu and it’s curried him favor with the olo'eyktan. 

“Yeah,” he groans, rolling his shoulders back. 

“Are you tired? You should rest.” Your ears perk up in concern.

“Nah, I’d rather spend time with you.” It makes your heart flutter in your chest but the happiness is dampened by the feeling of selfishness. This man is not yours and yet he makes your heart soar with only a few words. It isn’t fair to him or yourself to be so fixated on the feeling but you can hardly help the way you feel. If it were possible to tear the roots of affection from your chest and leave only thoughts of a newly kindled friendship, you would do it without hesitation. But Eywa was seen fit to fill your vitra with dangerous desire. You want to ask the Great Mother what she wants with you, why she’s chosen to test you in this way, but it will do no good. The seed has been planted and you must helplessly watch it blossom despite the inevitability of your feelings wilting in the face of rejection.

In the pale blue light of the watchful eye above, you decide to toss those thoughts to the wind. Jake is smiling at you like he’s never seen anything lovelier than your face in the starlight and it makes you want to be reckless with your heart if only for one night. Before eclipse breaks and the sun returns you’ll pretend that this man is yours no matter the pain that will come later. 

“Come. I will race you to the seawall.” It is a game played between more novice swimmers, children trying to prove their prowess amongst their friends but Jake smiles anyway. Nì’eveng you’ve taken to calling him. Childish. The look on his face is nothing but playful as you both dive into the open water. There is no doubt that you’ll beat him. Even as he’s steadily improved in the water he still isn’t built for the ocean the same as you. Your body is strong from your arms to your tail and Jake is woefully behind by the time you climb onto the lowest levels of the terraces. They’re alight with shades of green, blue, and purple that shine brighter with each step you take towards the top. But Jake is faster on land, longer legs easily bounding up the terraces until he catches you by the waist just before you reach the top. It’s the closest the two of you have ever been as he swings you in a circle until your laughter echoes across the darkened sky. His arms don’t move when he sets you down. Instead his face finds the column of your neck, purrs sounding in your ears as his nose traces over the rippling stripes of your skin. 

“Got you.” His voice is an entrancing drawl that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels as if the world has tilted and only you feel the shift as Jake’s hands soothe over your waist, keeping you close to his chest as he noses behind your ear. It’s intimate in a way you’ve never experienced. There has never been anyone to court you, to treat you with such affection. No man of the Metkayina would dare even after Tonowari passed over you in favor of your sister. Yet here is this man from a place you’ve never seen, giving you everything that you’ve ever wanted.

“You caught me.” You agree and Jake laughs against the shell of your ear. He mumbles something as he squeezes you closer. You turn in his arms, face drawn in confusion. 

“Always,” he says again. “I’ll always catch you.” His forehead presses to yours bright eyes clouding your vision of anything other than him. 

“I’m not running.” It’s a lie but you say it to preserve the fantasy. Just for this night you want to pretend that you belong to him in truth. 

“You are.” He says and the illusion is shattered. His arms around you begin to feel too tight and his breath too close as it washes over your parted lips. This isn’t how you should be acting with a mated man no matter how you feel towards him. But when you try to pull away his arms tighten. 

“There you go again. What are you running from, girl?” You shake your head, voice lost somewhere in your throat as you try to do exactly what you’ve said you aren’t. You want to run away but your heart will stay with you. These feelings of yours won’t be easily abandoned as they beat in your chest like a drum. They will follow you no matter how far you go. You don’t get farther than turning away from him before he has you in his arms again. His hand settles over your thumping heart, fingertips tracing over the shape of your tattoo. 

“I feel you,” he says, hand moving from your fluttering heart to your throat, “I hear you.” Your breathing comes in stuttered draws, lungs suddenly constricted with the wave of emotions crashing inside you. “I See you.” He says finally, lips caressing your ear. When your shuddering breaths calm he turns you to face him again. All that beams in his eyes is sincerity. Yearning and something close to desperation. He wants you to accept him. 

“You’re not mine.” It’s a warbled cry as tears swell in your eyes. 

“I’m yours. I’m all yours, yawne.” It makes your knees go weak and you fall from his arms, landing gracelessly in the water at your feet. 

“I can’t do this.” Jake flinches back, his hands falling from where they’d been reaching out to you. “You’ve mated with another. I can’t have you.” 

Never have you heard of a mated pair in which one of them had been mated before. When a mate dies, that does not make room for another. Tsaheylu is sacred, shared only between two lovers. What Jake is asking is something your heart cannot understand. The thoughts of the woman you’ve never met, the woman that came before you, keeps you from letting yourself love him fully. He is hers. Whatever part of him wants you now, it is not the whole of him. It is inevitable that when mates are separated by death, a part of the living dies with the one that went to Eywa. He will always be hers before he is yours. Or perhaps Jakesully will be different as he is in all things. 

He is Na’vi but he was also tawtute. It was Eywa that decided his fate as Toruk Makto, that allowed him to have the body that he does today. Perhaps you are simply another part of his fate. Another bead in his songcord. Each thought swims through your head quicker than the last, growing more absurd with each passing moment. It would be so easy to ignore it, to reach out and be with Jake in the way that he’s asking you to. But your heart is delicate, your soul conflicted. He isn’t yours. And yet he is. His heart is in his hands as he stares at you, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl. You’ve got me. I’m here. Whenever you want me, I’m here. I promise.” He carries you home once you’ve cried yourself dry, laying you down and pressing a kiss to your forehead before going to join his children. It breaks your heart to watch him leave but it is where he belongs. His children will always need him more than you. A lonely tsakarem will always pale in comparison to the remnants of the life he led before you met. His mate, their children. If you accept him it will be as if you are a mismatched bead looped at the end of a bracelet. Dull and out of place. 

For once you do not rise with the sun as it breaks from behind Naranawm’s shadow. There’s a soreness in your eyes as you try to shield them from the burning white light of the morning sun as it burns unfettered after spending a day under heavy clouds. Tears have dried on your cheeks and Tuk’s braids have become tangled and undone after what was surely a fitful sleep. You remove them slowly, collecting all the ornaments she added as they fall into your lap. There are things that need to be done, tasks that need completing, but you ignore those responsibilities to hide your face in the forest. You take your time in bathing and cleaning your hair, spending too long in the memories of the hands that touched you last night. It’s as if he’s still with you. So gentle and earnest as he caressed your skin. 

The memories linger like a bruise when you finally drag yourself from the bathing pool, sore and shameful. Once you’ve dressed you abandon the village to visit the one place you’ve been avoiding since the moment you met Jakesully. There was fear in your heart at the thought of bonding with the Ranteng Utralti. Fear of what the Great Mother might show you, what your ancestors might tell you. It still lingers even as you leave your ilu to bask in the pale purple light of the glowing fronds of the spirit tree. Tree spirits swim around you, yellow fish shining bright as stars. The waters around the tree are deserted aside from the animals. No one to judge your hesitancy to commune with Eywa after so long. The fronds of the tree sway in the gentle current, waiting patiently for you to gather the courage to make tsaheylu. It nearly knocks the breath from your lungs when you finally join your tswin to the tree. 

There are no thoughts in your mind as you join Eywa. There is no one that you want to see, no ancestor you wish to visit, but the Great Mother embraces you still. It feels like the gentlest hug as the colors flashing behind your eyes fades to something tangible yet distant all the same. 

Eywa has brought you to a place you do not know. It is like the deep forest of Awa’atlu yet different. The air doesn’t carry the scent of the sea. It smells rich and loamy as thick grass cushions each of your curious steps. Trees that seem to touch the sky grow around you and sunlight peaks through the leaves in dappled beams, warming your skin for only a moment before you pass beneath another shadow. In the richly colored forest you look out of place. Skin bright as polished river stone, beaming through the deep greens of the foliage. You walk until you see something of interest. The trees thin to a small clearing and you stop in your tracks. The vision wavers as you fight against what the Great Mother has to show you, shimmering like heat rising off sand before solidifying as you force your heartbeat to calm. 

A long structure sits before you. Grayish black the same as the buzzing ikran that had carried Norm and Max across the ocean. Metal, Jake had called it. You’ve only ever heard the word. It is part of the Na’vi Way set by the Three Laws of Eywa. Never use metals from the ground. It is something made from digging and stripping the earth. Harmful. It tosses off beams of light as you slink closer, staying close to the ground despite the lack of danger. There’s another metal beast in the clearing. Seemingly broken and covered in moss and vines. Inside is a small headless skeleton with two arrows through its ribs. Tawtute. They have been dead for long enough to turn to bone and yet their strange metal body has not returned to the earth it was stripped from. Even the well-made arrows have gathered rot where Eywa has begun to reclaim them. 

It seems so unnatural for the metal to be so unflinching and yet you can’t temper your curiosity. You lean closer only to burn your hands on the shiny beast as if you’ve touched an open flame. Whatever this metal material is, it collects heat like a black stone left in the sun. The tawtute structure is just as smoldering beneath your skin as you vault inside. The floor makes a sound like shifting seashells as you land, a strange material like shards of crystal tinkling underfoot as you slink through the small space, crouching in the unaccommodating space. It feels odd to find yourself in a place like this and yet this is where Eywa wants you to be. 

There is a Law against things like this. Laying brick, building that which cannot be renewed or replenished. Metal remains. It is cold inside despite the sun shining just beyond the opening in the wall, and very little of Pandora has dared to reach inside. This is a place of sawtute and the forest recognizes that. Nothing other than pollen and lichen has found its way inside. There is something here for you. Something Eywa needs you to see among the ruins of the sawtute. There’s a childlike curiosity to your exploration as you pick through the remains of the banished demons. 

There are strange pieces of color, thin as leaves cut into neat shapes. They’re untouched by rot yet the colors seem wrong, slightly faded like an old mat left in the sun. There are people captured in the strange, dull threads of color. Two of them look familiar in a distant way, like you’d seen them from afar but only once. It isn’t until you bring the tiny thing close to your face that you realize you’ve seen pieces of these women in other people. Their eyes, their noses. Small details that you’ve noticed in others. The uniltìrantokx is even wearing a necklace you’ve seen before though it takes you a beat to place who’d worn it.

“Kiri?” The frozen memory jumps from your fingers like you’ve been struck and crystal shards dig into your knees as you stumble to the ground. The sharp pain rushes through you with startling vividness. Never have you been harmed while cradled in the Great Mother’s arms and the pain disrupts the vision, twisting and changing it as you try to stand. Light contorts and a sharp pain splits through your head, thrusting you back into your body with an aborted gasp. 

Bubbles cloud your vision as you try to calm your racing mind. Who were those women with faces so familiar they seemed nearly tangible. Your mind races as your lungs pinch with exertion after all your air left in a warbled cry. Air seems far out of reach as you swim towards the light of the sun kissing the gentle waves. You surface with a strangled shout that echoes across the floating islands of the Cove, only treading water long enough to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest as your ears cloud with the sound of your rushing blood. It takes all your focus to force your body to silence, to calm. Absently, you check your knees for blood, half expecting to find shards still embedded in your skin. When you find nothing other than the pattern of your skin your heart steadies enough for you to dive again. This time there is no hesitation as you connect to the Ranteng Utralti. There is a place for you in what Eywa has shown you. Everyone lives within the Great Mother. She remembers. Someone had been there before you. Someone precious to you. The Great Mother knows your heart, knows what it is you seek. A purpose. An answer. 

Show me, you whisper in your mind. Tell me. 

The vision is different as the flashing colors fade to night, the seldom patches of sky alight with stars and a gentle breeze lifting the curls of your hair as you stand at the precipice of a spiraling tree root. The sounds floating through the darkness are so different from the steady lapping of water. There is life all around you, just beyond sight as your footsteps stir up bursts of green syuratan. Everything feels new, like you’re a child again as you walk along the path the Great Mother has set you on. Specks of white like tanhì glow through the soft light of blue and purple leaves overhead, drifting on the faint breeze. They descend like a gentle rain and feel just as faint as one lands in your outstretched hand. More follow, tickling across your skin as they turn your body a pure shade of white. Eywa’s presence strengthens with each one that brushes against you and you realize they must be atokirina’. So different from the radiant seeds of your own spirit tree and yet the feeling is the same. 

They dance over your body like lapping waves before departing in a glimmering cloud. It would be lovely to watch them float away if an echoing screech didn’t follow their departure. You don’t dare to turn and face what made such a deafening noise. Instead you clumsily sprint towards cover, wide tail doing little to balance your strides as you find an alcove in a tree to hide yourself. The bark is rough against your skin after being so gently touched by the hands of the Great Mother and your vision wavers once more as fear punches through your chest in an acidic burst. Never have you encountered danger when connected to the Ranteng Utralti. Never have you known Eywa to lead those seeking guidance into peril. But you’ve been hurt, you’ve bled. And now another shriek crashes through the quiet of the forest, echoing eerily through the treetops. The distant branches seem to shudder, shedding leaves as something crashes through the foliage. Is this the result of your covetous heart? The Great Mother turning her back on you?

A scream rips from your throat, nearly burning with its intensity as a giant ikran descends through the hole it’s torn through the canopy. The roots shudder beneath its mighty weight as it lands where you’d been standing and your thick limbs tremble clumsily, hands tucking into the groves of the tree bark to keep yourself upright and hidden. This beast is like no ikran you’ve ever seen though you’ve seen so few in the distant atolls of the Metkayina. Yet this one seems intrinsically different. Large and bright in the night as it spreads its fearsome wings, fanged jaw opening to let out another bellow that has your ears folding tight against your head. A pained noise slips from your lips as its voice splits through your head and it’s enough to draw the creature’s attention to you. Its eyes seem to find you even in the shadows and you’re reminded that the two of you are bright beings in a darkened forest. For a moment your heart stops and yet the beast doesn’t charge, doesn’t let out another terrifying scream. Instead it sits as if waiting for you to show yourself. 

Every instinct carved into you since birth begs you to stay hidden and yet, with hesitant steps, you emerge from your hiding place. If this is your punishment for daring to think a man like Jake could ever be yours then you’ll have to face it. 

The ikran fixes its four eyes on you, wings spreading to block anything but the warm shades of its striped skin. It is the color of the sun in a sea of shades of green and blue, a torch over the ocean. A fire, your mind sings. Wings like flames. The song of Toruk Makto. It is one you remember well, sung more often in the years after the sawtute were banished from Pandora. The ikran before you is no ikran. It is toruk. Last Shadow. A breath leaves you in an awed rush as tears begin to burn in your eyes. Toruk stays as still as an animal can be as you approach him. There is still fear in your heart, something instinctual that is sewn into the very fabric of your soul. And yet it bleeds away as you reach to touch him. Part of you still expects a quick reproach, a snap of his mighty jaw to remove your hand. But he only shifts his weight and watches as you touch the blue crests of his head. Any fear still lingering in your chest dissipates at the feeling of his head in the palm of your small hand. 

You came to the Great Mother with a storm wailing inside you, burying you beneath the dark waters of uncertainty, and she has eased it. All at once the dark clouds of your conflicted spirit seem to part and warmth blooms in its place. Toruk shuts his eyes and leans further into your hand as if he too can feel the stillness finally easing inside you. 

He is your answer. Eywa has heard you. 

The days that follow pass in a haze. Even as your heart has been soothed your mind is still racing. It’s all you can do to pick up with your daily tasks, to pretend the Great Mother hasn’t just laid a magnificent blessing into your hands. 

“Sa’nok, watch me!” Naleyä squeals before gulping in a deep breath and diving to the bottom of the pool, drawing you out of your own head. The tide pools are still overflowing after the storm and it’s made the children more confident now that the water has grown a bit deeper. They’re light as seabirds floating on their round tummies as they paddle in circles around you, daring to dive for a few moments before resurfacing with little gasps and eager smiles. It’s still shallow enough that you could reach Naleyä just by bending down but she seems determined to prove how well she’s learned as she picks up a shell resting at the bottom to bring you when she resurfaces. Mu’rak intercepts the gift, curious fingers taking the shell before he passes it to you for approval. It’s a simple shell. Flat and ridged, the color of a pinkish sunrise. You’ve collected many of them in your life but each is just as precious as the last. More so when gifted by one of your students. You press the shell to your lips before tucking it away in your medicine pouch. 

“Me!” Peylil says, already filling his lungs with a big gust of air but you deflate him with a pinch of your fingers on his puffed cheeks. He’s young, too young to have even fully grown his tswin braid. He’s eager to follow but he’s only just learned to swim, hands still gripping cautiously at your loincloth to keep from floating too far in the pool. It will take some time before he is ready to dive, even in the shallowest of waters. He pouts up at you and for a moment he almost reminds you of Tuk. The thought is easily plucked away by the sound of a horn. It isn’t the same sound that had announced the arrival of the Sullys and there are no swooping silhouettes emerging from the haze of sunlight. Instead your eyes find the break in the sprawling seawall that lines the horizon. A rush of water rises like a cloud and through the mist comes the familiar crest of a tulkun. In an instant the feelings sitting like stones in your chest turn to dust and fall away. The tulkun have returned. 

Once more Awa’atlu stops but there isn’t a storm to dampen this day. Everything has been abandoned to welcome the tulkun home. It is a time for reunions. For stories of what has come to pass since the tulkun last graced the waters of Awa’atlu. Whatever thoughts still lingers in your head are lost in the face of sharing this moment with those you hold dearest. The children are gathered quickly by their parents eager to introduce the younglings to their spirit family. You set off to find the children that have claimed your heart, but Kiri is the only one left inside when you reach the Sully marui looking as downtrodden as she’s been in the weeks since her seizure. It makes you wonder what the Great Mother might have shown her on that day. You’ve yet to mention what you’d seen of her mother, but if Eywa blessed with a meeting with toruk, then Kiri could’ve seen something truly amazing. And yet she hasn’t spoken of what she saw or who she spoke to. It isn’t your place to ask. Connection to the spirit tree is a private commune with the Great Mother and you won’t begrudge her that.

This will not erase her pain but it is your hope that it will ease her spirit even for a moment. Kiri shines so brightly with the light of Eywa and she will surely bloom in the majesty of the tulkun. She barely looks up when you enter the marui, ears lifting only slightly to acknowledge you despite the smile you feel overtaking your face. 

“Kiri, come!” When she doesn’t move you guide her to her feet with gentle hands. She returns the soft touch though she is hesitant to heed your urging towards the water. 

“What?” She groans but her attitude does little to deter you. She is still young, still hurting. Her words are only as harsh as whatever she is feeling and you’re eager to soothe her pains. 

“What is it?” Her voice stops short as you finally guide her outside. She squints in the sun and you wonder when she last left home. For a moment your smile falls and you turn to look at her fully, holding her hands in yours as you look her over with the sharp eyes of a tsakarem. She is the same as you last saw her. Still dulled. Her light has dimmed and it aches your heart to see her faith slip. Eywa has not turned her back on Kiri. It’s clear to see in the way the fish seem to gravitate towards her as you lead her into the water. They mingle around her ankles like they’re caught in a whirling tide but she hardly notices as her eyes take in the spectacle playing out over the horizon. Yellow eyes widen in awe as the two of you watch the village become whole once more. Her hand tightens in yours as she looks to you with the first sparks of excitement shining in her eyes. Suddenly she’s pulling you along, eagerly dragging you along with her. 

“Sa’nok!” Tuk shouts gleefully, already bouncing with excitement. She stands behind Kiri on her ilu, hands on her sister’s shoulders as they follow you into the flood of Na’vi and tulkun, tsurak and ilu. The whole of Awa’atlu has poured into the sea and voices rise joyously over the blue waters. It is the blissful sound of the People and tulkun as siblings are reunited after the season apart. 

“There! Do you see her? That is my spirit sister.” Your voice is pitched with excitement as Kiri and Tuk ride beside you. The water is warm as you urge your ilu to dive. She chitters happily, feeling the elation coursing through you through tsaheylu. Veyan hums eagerly when her eyes finally see you riding towards her, dismounting as you swim in close. Her voice is a warm timber that sings through the water as you greet her. 

«Veyan! Oel ngati kameie.» 

«Oel ngati kameie, tsmuke. I am happy to see you.» Her skin feels welcoming beneath your hands as you press your forehead just above her eyes in a gentle embrace. «Who have you brought with you?» She asks when you part. Kiri and Tuk have kept close to you, signing a respectful greeting when Veyan’s eyes land on them. Kiri hugs close to her ilu as Tuk clings to your back, both bashful in the face of your spirit sister. Veyan is a lovely being known for her beautiful voice and playful disposition. She is as curious as they are upon first meeting. 

«This is Kiri and this is Tuk.» You gesture to each of them in turn. Names are harder to convey without a voice and you name each with words that are easily signed. Kiri you call txanatan for how brightly she reflects Eywa’s light, and Tuk is weopxtsyìp; little wave. It is a common name tulkun say before a child is properly introduced. 

«It seems now is a time for children.» Veyan laughs, pointing her snout across the water. Many Na’vi and tulkun dance in the blue waters but you recognize who she has gestured to.

Ronal is a short distance away and just as you always are you’re struck by your sister’s smile. It’s a rare sight to see the stoic tsahìk so open and unburdened as she speaks with her spirit sister. Roa looks radiant as she cradles a calf beneath her fin. A gorgeous son. You taste the sea on your tongue as a smile breaks across your face. After so long Roa has finally had her child. He looks precious swimming next to his mother, curious eyes taking in the world around him. Just as you’re about to suggest the girls introduce themselves to the young calf they sign that they need air, swimming to the surface. 

«They must be a long way from home.» Veyan notes, keen eyes watching their shadows as they float overhead. It is easy to tell their differences. Their eyes, their tails. It’s made clearer as Rotxo finds them, wide limbs clashing with their willowy frames as he gestures for them to follow him. Both you and Veyan surface for a breath as you watch them all swim away. Neteyam is nearby as well, smiling wide as he watches the tulkun breach and twirl, playfully flapping their fins as skimwings fly overhead. 

«Is he one of yours too?» Veyan asks when you name each of them properly. 

«None of them are mine.» Your tone is dejected as you say the words as you sign. Veyan’s orange eyes roll at your denial. 

«I can see it as plainly as the sky, tsmuke. They are your children.» The sound of Roa’s voice raises from beneath you as Ronal and her spirit sister come to join you and yours. 

«Children?» The older tulkun asks curiously. She has known you since you were young, seen you through many seasons of your life. Roa is just as much your sister as she is Ronal’s even if the two of you do not share the bond of tsaheylu. You greet her happily, giving her well wishes on the birth of her son. She thanks you with a happy trill, nudging him forward for a shy greeting.  

«Three of them.» Veyan says happily, fins fluttering in excitement and nearly shaking you back into the water. 

«Four.» Ronal corrects her. «Two sons and two daughters.»

«When did this happen?» Roa asks. You lay back on Veyan’s fin, watching the sky as you try to gather the courage to speak your feelings into the air. You’ve spent months keeping them tucked close to your chest. It is plain to see how deeply you feel for Jake and yet you’ve refused to admit it, like he will disappear if you so much as whisper your affections to anyone. At first it felt wrong to so shamelessly pine for a man that was already spoken for but Eywa has proven you wrong. Now you are unlearning such ideas but it is slow going like pulling the stray threads of a knot. It has taken so much patience and trust in the Great Mother to loosen your grip on the thoughts of desiring a man like Jake being treacherous and wrong. In death, tsaheylu is broken. An ikran may only ride with one hunter in their whole life, but when a spirit sibling is lost another may rise to take their place if a Na’vi so chooses to accept. It is not betrayal, it is balance. As Eywa intends all things to be. 

Yet there is still hesitancy in your words as you tell your sisters about Jake. How he came to Awa’atlu seeking uturu, how you challenged Ronal before the clan to allow him and his family to stay, the way your heart has been so easily taken by the Sullys. 

«She is in love.» Ronal says, sour attitude clear even as her fingers shape the words. «But stubborn like a child.» Her voice is rife with disappointment. Not at your desire, but your unwillingness to act upon it. 

She still taunts you. Making jabs about your empty home knowing that you could so easily join the Sully family if only you let yourself. Ronal may be your elder sister but she is also tsahìk. The will of Eywa is hers to interpret and the Great Mother has made her intentions clear. Yet the longer you go without acknowledging the truth of what you both know the more abrasive she becomes at the mention of it. Now she has grown far past pointed remarks. It has become an argument at even a passing mention. If either tulkun hears the frustration in Ronal’s tone they choose to ignore it. Though even her body has gone tense with dissatisfaction as she floats beside Roa. 

«At last?» Veyan rolls over, clearly elated at the news. It knocks you back into the water with her. You take in the shapes of her tattoos on her belly as she spins. The same ones you’ve traced countless times in the years since you’ve bonded. This is news that she has been waiting for since the two of you passed your rites together. Finally you have found a mate. And yet your heart can’t let it be so simple even when what you want is so close at hand. 

Jake has kept to the fringes of your life since the night on the terraces. He lingers, just out of reach. Whenever you want me, he said. His heart won’t stray from those words, from you. Even as you pass him in the village he doesn’t dare to speak or touch yet his eyes follow you, gaze wistful as he watches in silence. 

«But he is already mated.» You tell them. Ronal narrows her eyes. 

«His mate has returned to Eywa.» She quickly corrects you. 

«Tsmuke, Eywa sends blessings for a reason. The Great Mother would not give you such a gift if you were not meant to accept it. He has chosen you. All you must do now is choose him.» Roa advises. 

«There will be a celebration tonight.» Veyan chimes happily. «You must dress beautifully and go to him. I ask Eywa to bless this union.» Roa seconds her enthusiasm but Ronal keeps any kind words to herself until the two of you have surfaced once more to prepare for the evening. It is nearing eclipse, the sky faded to shades of pink and purple as night closes in. Ronal will have many things to do before the last sparks of sunlight fade from the sky. It is the duty of tsahìk to lead ceremonies and tonight marks one of the clan’s most sacred celebrations. 

“Tsmuke,” Ronal says finally, joining you in your marui. Her tone is strong, sharp as a blade. She’s yet to speak and already you know her words will be unsympathetic. Ronal is past sparing you for the sake of sibling harmony. It’s clear in her green eyes that she feels nothing but irritation with you at this moment. It feels much the same as when you were children being scolded for going against her words despite her being the elder. Now she is tsahìk, the leader of your clan, and you must bow to her council no matter your relation. 

“I have waited many years for you to choose someone. I do not want to hear any more of this stubbornness. It is done. This man has chosen you and you have chosen him. Not with your words, but with your actions. I see how Jakesully looks at you. I see how his children cling to you. It is as if it was your hands that drew out the aysnatanhì. You See so much and yet you are blind to this. He was mated but she is gone. His heart is free to be given to another. His children will need a mother. I will not allow you to keep yourself from happiness.” 

“Syay,” she says pointedly. “It has been decided.” 

And so it has. The dreamwalker that looks like Kiri and the woman that shares Neteyam’s face stare at you when you sleep. And when it isn’t their yellow eyes it is toruk’s voice ringing in your mind. He is lonely, in your dreams. Nearly desperate. The same look that takes over Jake’s eyes whenever you pass him by as if he were a stranger. You’re hurting him, you realize, just as much as you are hurting yourself. And it is a pain that can be easily soothed. Eywa has shown you how to heal if only you’ll listen. As if hearing your thoughts as if they were her own, your sister speaks again. 

“You were tsakarem just as I was and yet you act as if you do not See. I know that you do. There is freedom in life but some things are decided by the Great Mother’s will. This has been one of those things. Eywa has guided you here, tsmuke, do not ignore her.” Her voice carries a tone of finality. It is the truth and you’ve felt the Great Mother’s guidance. It is as strong and unwavering as mighty toruk, as patient and comforting as Jake’s gentle words. He is meant for you just as you’re meant for him. There is a reason you’ve met him now. He had his mate. She was meant for him just as you are but that was then. Her purpose was served and her spirit returned to be with Eywa. The final hesitant piece of your heart wonders if you’ll leave him just as soon. If your purpose beside him is to be completed just as quickly. It hardly matters. Your heart was his from the moment you first saw him. If death waits close around the bend you’ll gladly face it if he remains by your side until Eywa calls your spirit home. 

Ronal seems to soften after she’s said her piece. A heaving breath leaves her as she steadies her anger, expelling the negative energy from her body in a great heaving sigh. After a moment her eyes open and they no longer carry the stinging bite of disappointment. Instead she has softened to a look of quiet anticipation. A small smile sits in the corner of her mouth, barely lifting her cheeks.

“Tonight we celebrate the return of our brothers and sisters. It is a time for happiness. Dress beautifully, wear your adornments. I want to see my sister shine brightly on this sacred night.” It is the same thing you said to her so many years ago on the night that Tonowari chose her. She is relieved, happy. This will be a burden lifted from her shoulders at last. With a resolute nod she leaves you to dress. As a former tsakarem you’re afforded more beautiful garbs than most women of the clan just as Ronal is. Tsahìk is always the most lavishly decorated woman and being your sister’s right hand has provided you with the same dignified attire. The Awa’atlu tradition of training many for the role of tsahìk means that each woman to complete the trials is just as precious to the clan as the chosen tsahìk mated to olo’eyktan. The People often present you with lovely gifts of the most beautiful beads, shimmering shells, and handsomely dyed materials after healing a member of their family or teaching their child to swim. It’s a balanced exchange as you return the favors with carefully made baskets and newly carved knives. 

The most precious of these gifts you’ve kept hidden away to be used only as ceremonial pieces. For births and deaths, and the celebration of completed rites. The return of the tulkun marks such a worthy event. It’s as you’re combing through your basket of woven tops and beaded loincloths that Tsireya joins you, arms overflowing with freshly picked flowers. 

“Ma sa’tsmuke.” She says happily. There’s a bounce in her step as she sits beside you. “Ma sa’nok has asked us to make aysylangtel for tonight’s ceremony.” 

“Did you enjoy your time with your spirit sister?” You ask as the two of you weave together the flower cords. The petals are soft between your fingers as you weave together the stems until you’ve braided a rope as long as your tail. They’re meant to be worn in your hair, along the length of your tswin. 

“Yes,” she laughs bashfully, “I had much to tell her.” She doesn’t say more, cheeks flushed a soft shade of purple as her tail sways happily against the woven floor. She speaks instead of making aysylangtel for Kiri and Tuk after you’ve finished with the ones meant for Ronal and herself as well as yours. When they’re finished she gleefully takes them to the Sullys, leaving you with the brightest of the cords. The flowers bloom in shades of sunlight. Red, orange, and yellow petals tipped in black. It feels like another sign from the Great Mother. These are toruk’s colors. It determines your dress as you set aside any choice that isn’t the color of firelight and when the first drum beats begin to echo over the village you emerge from your home draped in flames. 

The ceremony is beautiful as it always is. Torchlight dances over the calm waters as the village comes alive with the voices of the People. Ronal’s voice rings over the water as she formally welcomes the tulkun home, Tonowari’s booming voice seconding her words. When the time comes and the drums begin to beat anew Ronal nods to you expectantly. You stride forward in time to the music until the ocean rises up to your knees. The sound of your voice peals through the air like the caw of a bird, sharp and melodic as you begin to sing. The first verse of the song is yours alone as you dance through the water, beads and shells of your clothes tinkling with each movement. Euphoria wells inside you, blooming through your chest like a flower as you sing the story of the tulkun. It is nearly as old as the First Songs, passed down from the ancestors and your body moves with each word. Such dances tell a story, signing in a grander, more fluid way than how you speak in daily life. 

Every woman of the village will play a part in this performance and their voices begin to join you. They flow together like the rise and fall of the waves as the song begins in earnest. The history of the tulkun is long and storied. It will take hours before the song is finished. By then the girls will begin to sing, their young voices swelling the music to a close as the tulkun join the chorus. The whole of the celebration moves like the tides as the crowd thins and renews in waves as more people leave and arrive. There is a whole night of celebration ahead and no one will arrive late to enjoy it. The first line of dancers falls away and you with them, returning to find Tuk bouncing excitedly on shore, her eager hopping stirring up soft bursts of sand. 

“Sa’nu! Sa’nu!” Her smile is nearly wide enough to split her cheeks, round eyes wide with wonder as she grabs one of your hands in hers. The shortened aysylangtel you made for her beats against her back as she swings your arm eagerly. 

“You looked so pretty, Sa’nu!” Kiri settles her hands on Tuk’s shoulders to get her to still. 

“You look very lovely, Sa’nok. Your voice is beautiful.” 

“Thank you, ’ite.” You dare to say. For a moment, Kiri startles, her brows rising before her face settles into a shy smile. When her gaze flits up to you through her lashes she looks content. It eases your heart to know your sister’s words have been true. Even as you saw Jakesully’s children grow closer to you like flowers bending towards the sun you hadn’t dared to claim them so forwardly, scared of the rejection. They had a mother. You seeing them, no matter how vaguely it has been, truly solidified them in your mind. No longer were they shapeless threads of words said in passing. For you to so blatantly step into that place could’ve been seen as a thing worth sneering at. But there is no offense on Kiri’s face. 

“Have you seen your father?” It’s your hope that you don’t sound desperately curious asking after Jake’s whereabouts. 

“Last I saw he was with olo’eyktan.” 

“I will look for Tonowari then.” You find the olo’eyktan around a fire smoldering in the sand with a few men around him. Many eyes rise to meet your arrival; green, blue, and a bright shade of yellow. 

“Our lovely tsakarem.” Tonowari greets you. He’s one of the few in the clan to still call you as such. There’s a fondness in his words that hasn’t wavered since the elders first declared you as a potential mate for him, though the affection between the two of you is like that of siblings. Your heart was never moved by Tonowari the same as your sister’s was. Yet the other men collected around the fire seem more enticed. Their eyes are easy to understand. Drunk from fermented juice and hearts light with the spirit of celebration, they’ve become bolder with their admirations. The only one that is unmoved by your arrival is Jake. His face is tight and guarded, eyes flickering with firelight and nothing else as he watches you watch him. It’s a wonder the way he can so completely close himself off, hiding his soul and masking his feelings. The feeling of wanting to unravel him rises again as you hold out your hand for him to take. It is a request, but there will be great pain inside you if he rejects this humble offering of reconciliation. You are at fault for gouging this rift between the two of you and it’s your hope to bridge it tonight. 

For a moment he simply looks at your hand as it sits before him and there’s a cold flash of pain inside you when you realize that you might be too late. He said he would wait. Promised that he would. But perhaps you’ve made him wait for too long. It’s not until his hand joins with yours that your racing mind settles. He looks to where your hand sits in his, thumb tracing over your skin before he meets your gaze once more and it’s like a storm has lifted. The silence between the two of you still speaks so many words as you watch the light of the fire play over his features. Feeling emboldened you pull him away from the men around the fire. 

“You must dance.” Jake is already shaking his head before you’re more than two steps from where he’d been sitting. 

“You must. It is the way!” A new verse has started and the melody has shifted. In the time of the First Songs the tulkun were unruly. Fighting amongst themselves, killing each other. This new rhythm marks the turn in their histories when they began to see that killing only brings about more killing. It is a livelier tune more fit for dancing than what you had first sung when the celebration began. Already couples are forming on the beach, eager to enjoy the night’s festivities. 

“Go,” Tonowari laughs when Jake looks to olo’eyktan for help. “She is one of the best dancers in the clan. You will enjoy yourself.” 

“I’ve never been a very good dancer.” Jake laughs as you drag him into the crowd. 

“Then show me a dance you know.” The dances of the Metkayina are complex. Men and women face each other and move in a winding line that spins and twirls like waves, weaving between each other and switching partners as you go. It will surely be too much for Jake to learn in a night and he seems to ease at the thought of not joining the already dizzying swirl of dancers. The dance he teaches you is comparatively simple yet more intimate. There’s a closeness about it as you press your hands and chests together before stepping away from each other. Eventually Jake doesn’t want to part and his hands twine with yours, lowering them but not letting go. 

“And who taught you this dance Toruk Makto?” The smile on his face slips at your playful words. Sadness flashes in his eyes before it settles into something fond as he releases one of your hands to catch the curve of your cheek in his palm. 

“My muntxate.” As soon as he says it his ears fall in shame. Just for a moment it feels as if he isn’t seeing you even as his bright eyes rest on your face. 

“Come,” you say to break him from his reverie. “I want to show you something.” He lets you lead him to the water’s edge, following behind when you mount your ilu. Jake says nothing as the two of you ride past the edge of the reef into open waters. There still isn’t much danger so close to the village and you only go as far as a smaller island just outside the safety of the seawall. Jake is silent through all of it, allowing you to lead him wherever you please. 

The island’s shores are stony and thick with trees, the world alight with a familiar blue and green glow so far from the light of torches. Jake watches as you dance through the trees, happiness still soaring in your heart despite his soured attitude. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, finally breaking his silence. 

“What is there to be sorry for?” 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he insists, “not to you.”

“Why shouldn’t you? Unless you are running from me now, Jakesully.” 

“Never.” You hear the hesitance in his voice even as he grabs your hand to pull you closer. He looks beautiful in the light of the trees. It’s different from the hues of the village where everything is drawn close to shore over the light of the ocean. Jake looks more at ease here. It is not the forest but it must feel like something close to home for him, or at least that was your hope in bringing him here.

“But it feels wrong. To talk about her. With you.” 

“Jake, you said that I may have you. That you will be mine. I do not want just a part of you.”

“You have me, yawne, I swear. I meant what I said that night. I’m yours.” He suddenly seems frantic. 

“Jake, I am not ignorant. I know that you have lived before we met. You were tawtute, uniltìrantokx, Toruk Makto. You’ve carried many names, led many lives. I was not a part of it until now. Why would I fault you for decisions made before we met?”

“It doesn’t bother you? That I was mated before now?”

“It did. I felt like I was taking something from someone else. But not anymore. We do not have to be mated before Eywa. I know that tsaheylu is sacred. Knowing that I’m yours is enough.” The words pain your heart but it is a sacrifice that you are willing to make to stay by his side. Bonds aren’t made frivolously. To form tsaheylu is to commit your souls to one another for life, and he has already given that part of himself to another. Life has parted them but, to him, it must feel like a wound that will never heal. It would be wrong of you to ask when he has already given you so much. His eyes search yours and you’re grateful that Eywa has not given your gift to everyone. If she had he would see the falsehood in your words. Still he reassures you. 

“I chose you. I want you. All of you.” His hands move from yours, drawing up the length of your arms and the curve of your shoulders until he’s holding your face with the softest touch. 

“You look so beautiful.” He whispers so quietly that you’re not sure you were meant to hear, but the sentiment is shared. He is beautiful. Thick locs, yellow eyes, soft stomach. He leans into your touch when your hands find his face in turn, thumbs brushing over the light of his tanhì and the dark shapes of his pil. So different but so familiar. 

“Come, I have something to show you.” Jake seems to be in lighter spirits, as playful as he’d been on the night the two of you climbed the terraces. His hand tugs at your tail as you lead him further inland, laughing when you swing your hips to smack him with it. It’s a beautiful sound. One that you prefer to the melancholic tone he’d taken earlier. 

“It’s here.” You watch Jake’s face as he ducks into the clearing hidden by low hanging leaves. His head tilts, tail swaying inquisitively behind him. 

“What is it?” 

“I do not know. I found it once when I was young, avoiding my training as a hunter. Ronal and I call it Wayutral.”

“Tree of Songs?” He’s curious now, ears flickering in interest. The tree is small by comparison to the rest rising to the sky around you. It’s rooted in the basin of a tide pool, trunk twisted like a braid, with only its spindly branches dotted with glowing pink flowers reaching above the glowing water. It’s a strange tree but Pandora is full of such curiosities. Gifts from the Great Mother. The bark of the tree is soft and glows a pale purple at the gentlest touch, lighting veins through the tree when you connect your tswin. In an instant you hear voices raise in a joyous song. It is not always the same but they’re always familiar. Sometimes a lullaby from childhood or one of the First Songs. Today the tree sings a tulkun song meant to welcome a new birth, their voicing ringing deep and haunting in your mind. 

“What do you hear?” You ask as Jake ties his tswin to the tree. His brows draw down and his ears tighten against his head. Perhaps it is a sad song the Wayutral has shown him. 

“It’s a tawtute song. Like a Taronway. Marines chant it during training.”

“Marines?” Your Na’vi tongue stumbles over the syllables of the word. Another English word for you to learn. Jake breaks tsaheylu and your heart wilts. This was meant to be a happy exchange and it’s been spoiled by memories of his past. 

“It’s nothing.” He shakes away the thought. 

“I’m sorry. Wayutral only sings memories. I didn’t know what it would show you.” You draw your tswin over your shoulder, fingers picking at the bright flowers of your aysylangtel. The bright petals begin to gray under your anxious fingers until Jake collects your hands in his. His eyes linger on the length of the orange flowers, or perhaps he’s staring at your tswin. Either way his eyes draw away slowly, blinking away the distraction as his eyes meet yours. 

“It’s not your fault, sweet girl. I’m not upset, it’s just been so long since I heard anything like that. Brought back memories.” 

“Bad memories?” 

“Some.” His tone is clipped and he looks lost in thought as his five fingers play over yours. He maps the pattern of your skin with his fingertips until you break his trance with a thought you meant to keep tucked inside. 

“I wish I knew.” It’s the truth. There is so much about Jake that you’ve yet to learn but your heart yearns to know every piece of him. But you hadn’t meant to let your longing slip off your tongue. A twinge of shame swims through your chest once more. His life as a tawtute is behind him and yet you want to know what he had been like. So much of his life has happened without you. It’s so uncommon to mate outside of your clan, outside of those that have been beside you since birth. Tonowari grew up beside you and Ronal and yet here is this man that was a stranger some months ago and it’s all you can do to not beg him to sing you the story of his life. You were raised to be in step with Eywa. To listen to her guidance and the spirits of the world around you. A tsahìk does not wait for Eywa’s word, she is always listening. That is what the former tsahìk taught you. Now your ears are eager to listen to every beat of Jake’s spirit. If he were a woven fabric the threads would be many colors, patterns varied as he passed through the different stages of his life. 

“You want to know, yawntutsyìp?” His tone is lightened now, eyes bright with mirth as he teases your curiosity. It makes your ears lower bashfully, eyes falling away from him as heat creeps over your cheeks. Jake is quick to draw your gaze back to him with a hand under your chin. 

“Don’t be shy now, yuey. If you want to know, I can show you. I can show you everything. Let me give you everything.” His lips find yours, closing the space between you. He kisses you like you are the air in his lungs after going without. Deep and desirous as if he’s trying to draw all that you are into himself, trying to taste your soul on his tongue as it grazes yours. It’s enough to make you sigh against his lips and the sound draws a satisfied smile to his lips. Jake doesn’t let you part more than a hair’s breadth from him, thumbs hooked under the curve of your jaw as he nuzzles against your cheeks. 

“I want you with me.” He whispers. “Let me be with you.” A hand leaves your skin, the place he held going cold in an instant, as he draws his tswin over his shoulder. 

“This is what I want.” His voice rings with assuredness. “I want this. I want you. All of you.” There isn’t a moment of hesitation as you lift your flowered braid from your shoulder. Your eyes follow the searching tendrils as they twine together until your vision goes white. 

The feeling is something beyond words. Every piece of your being is lit like a flame, burning and melting as light bursts behind your eyes. It knocks you to your knees as you feel yourself tear and mend all at once, expanding and joining until there is no part of you–body or soul–that doesn’t feel touched by Jake’s presence. His gasping breath becomes your own. Your hearts beat in tandem. Everything that he is becomes a part of you, the roots of your love winding deeper than they had before. Your voice stutters when you finally find the words to speak. 

“I feel you.” They’re hardly words as they fall soft as the wind from your parted lips. Jake laughs and his happiness echoes through tsaheylu. He is content as he basks in your presence. More than just being together under the light of the stars, you’re joined in tirea.

“Ma Jake.” You’re still breathless, still floating on the waves of joy. Every fiber of your being has been tied with his and you can’t tell where you end and he begins as he pulls you into his chest. Gentle hands guide your hazy eyes back to his. 

“My girl,” he says through a kiss. “Oel ngati kameie.” He means it. With everything that he is, he means it. Those words, so simple, so common, draw the last dregs of pain and hesitance from your heart. He is yours. You are his. 

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Nalutsa – a marine animal similar to an akula

Syuratan – bioluminescence

Tsakarem – tsahìk-in-training

Vitra, Tirea – soul, spirit

Yawne, Yawntutsyìp – beloved, darling

Tawtute, Sawtute – sky person, sky people

Ranteng Utralti – Spirit Tree

Tswin – neural braid

Tanhì – star, bioluminescent freckles

Atokirina’ – woodsprite, seed of the Tree of Souls

Aysnatanhì – constellations

Sa’tsmuke – aunt, mother’s sister (speculative)

Aysylangtel – flower cords, daisy chain (speculative)

‘Ite – daughter

Muntxate – wife, female mate

Uniltìrantokx – dreamwalker, avatar

Pil – facial stripes, skin stripes

Wayutral – Tree of Songs (speculative)

Taronway – hunt songs

[pumpkinsy0]

Curly catching wind that pony (and johnny too let's torture him as well) actually don't mind going to church and invites them; bonus points if he wants to be an evil little shit cause he knows these white boys ain't ready for black people church.

Ponyboy a little confused he's gotta wear fancy clothes (Tim let him borrow an outfit he outgrew) Angela is dressed that every sister side eyes, mother glares to and every grandma would faint at.

Curly smirks at himself in the mirror "oh yeah, I'm dapper!"

An hour goes by, both of them actually are having fun, there's singing, chanting and even a bit of dancing; nothing what they're used to. Hour two comes and it's getting to feel strange, surly the sermon will be over soon? Ponyboy is sweltering by hour three and hour four him and johnny contemplate eating each other's limbs they're starving.

"Curly, it's two o'clock, is church done yet?" "Hm? No that's just the first half." "the what?!!!"

Ponyboy realized he'd rather take the embarrassment of seeing Soda and Two-Bit have a bible fight than ever step foot in a church with Curly ever again.

Curly gets heartbroken cause he had a lovely 7 and a half hours where envisioned marrying Ponyboy in the chapel and now that's crushed cause the second they were dismissed Pony and Johnny BOLTED.

im acc fucking sobbing bc im thinking of that one white guy who would do that “pov im staying over at my black friends house but its a sunday and i gotta go to church w them”

pony told darry he’ll come back soon, not knowing that the church service was just pretty much the ENTIRE day

pony and johnny prolly had to stand and introduce themselves infront of the whole congregation 😭😭

tims suit was big as hell on pony too ik someones granny was giggling a lil bit

ON TOO OF THAT ITS A MOSTLY HAITIAN CHURCH TOO, ik pony and johnny couldnt tell u a singular thing that was said the entire time, all he can tell u is that they were getting really into it during the gospel songs

curly was trynna make pony laugh while everyone was praying and his mom hit him in the back of the head w a bible and pony nearly popped a blood vessel trying to not laugh too loud, on the bright side there was a lil break where everyone could eat or go outside so they did get some energy out

pony NEVER stayed at their house for the night if it was a sunday EVER again, and i do NOT blame him at all

[skzdiary]

all fun and games

lee! Minho

ler! Jeongin

t/w: no warnings, just soft tickles and none else! if this is not your cup of tea, feel free to scroll!

The boys finally got to a long deserved rest after the ATE comebck. It just turned august, gosh how does time flies by so fast?

All the members were out with each other at different places:

-channie and seungmin at the burger place

-han and felix at the movies

-hyunjin and changbin going for a walk

"i.n~ahhhh, looks like you stuck with me baby bread!~" the older teased jeongin and ruffled his hair with excitement that he was gonna be spending time with the maknae.

"alright, alright! enough with the hahahair! i spent a long time styling it!" the fox tried to keep a serious expression but failed due to how he cannot resist the bunnies adorable energy.

The dancer and the vocalist grasped for their belongings and they both drove all the way to the fair. It was the perfect time for them both to come, they have worked so hard and they deserve something fun!

"were here innie, where do you wanna go first? a roller coaster? hook the duck? darts?" the older was fulfilled with such excitement and could not wait any longer. He wrapped his hand around the youngers wrist and dragged him to anyone he could get to.

"whohoa! slow down hyung! what about this game?" i.n turned to lee know, standing at the game was a southern man wearing a blue dungerees and a red shirt. "roll up! roll up! hang on the bar for 3 minute to win ₩8000!" ~ "how about you do this? you work out alot, so im pretty sure your strong. pleaseeeeee hyung!" innie whined and begged the older.

"alright in~ah! ill do it, sheesh!" Minho made his way to the bar and held on, the timer started and he was dangling there helplessly. The clock was ticking and the bunnys hands were clamped to the railing, he really was intrigued to win this. "this is so easy, i can win this easily!"

Baby bread had a sneaky idea, the sly fox trotted his way infront of the dancer and lightly stroked his neck and collarbones.

"i-innie, w-what are you dohohing?" the bunnies face turned a bright crimson red and pursed his lips to prevent laughter from coming out.

“Oh nothing much hyung, just helping you win” younger laughed at Lee know trying his best to maintain his giggles. Although that didn’t go to as planned when he gently stroked his sides up and down to make it more difficult for him.

“i swear to gohohohod! cut it ohohohout”~ the older sweetly laughed to his heart contented, he really wanted to win the prize money; so he continued battling. The maknae willingly walked his fingers down to Minho’s v-line which was enough nearly enough to make him give up.

“plehehease! nohohot fair! I cahahahant!”~

“You can’t what, baby?”

“I cahahahnt take it! Stohohohop”

1 minute was remaining on the clock, Lee know had made it this far, surely he can make it to the end, right? He carried on like a champ, that was until the sneakily little vocalist massaged at his underarms. “What about here, hyung?”

Minho started laughing as loud as a hyena. This spot was his worst so it was enough to make him go ballistic. “nono-NOHOHOHO-, I JUST WANT TOHOHO WIN!”

“What do you say then?” - “PLEHEHEHEASE STOHOHOHOP!” as innie followed his request, the timer beeped and the clock has finished.

“Here’s the ₩8000! Congratulations, no one really ever wins, especially the way you just did it. Well done champ!” Lee know ended up being embarrassed but he knew he couldn’t be mad at his baby. They made their way back to the car and back to the dorms to one of the rooms where seungmin were chilling.

“What was that for?”

“What was what for?” seungmin asked curiously with a confused puppy expression.

“innie tickled me whilst i hung from a bar FOR THREE WHOLE MINUTES!” Minho smirked and gave jeongin the eyes and he just giggled.

“Ha, snooze you loose bunny!” the younger chuckled teasing the older, which he did not like.

“Oh you’re in for it now, lil pup”~ the dancer leaped and tackled the singer to the floor and started his attack.

“wait.. I’m sorry! Plehehehase! Nonono-NOGOHOHO-“

Aaaaa this isn’t the best fic I’ve written 😭👋 kinda disappointed because I could have done better but I’ve had no energy or requests and my little brain AINT BRAINING. Ah 진지하게 😭

tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow @leeknowstan33 @minnielvr22 @hansloveleeknow @minsungii @lubieplackieverybody @jihyosdaughter @soap143 @jeonginsdiary @jihyosdaughter @leegemma @v--143 @just ngkookslipring st

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

Blackbeard rules the sea. Despite wanting his captain back, Izzy realises his mistake. Protecting the crew is his concern. Protecting you is his life mission. Stede's return brings hope, but there's a lot of work to be done before this crew becomes a family.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter}

Warnings: Short fluffy ending to the story. Keep an eye out for those one shots in the future.

Epilogue

♡♡♡

"Captain on deck!" You yell out.

There is a smile on your face on as you walk across the deck of the ship. The crew were hard at work, while also keeping up their usual banter.

It was a good day on The Revenge.

You weren't going to lie, with Stede and Ed no longer onboard, the ship did feel like it was missing something, but everything was well. You would all be okay.

Izzy emerges from the cabin. His long coat brushes his legs as he walks out to join you at your side. His eyes scan the ship.

"Anything to report?" He asks.

"Nothing, Captain."

He nods his head firmly. A few seconds of silence pass before his hand is slipping into yours. You smile and keep hold of his hand as you both head up the stairs to the helm. He only let's go of your hand to take hold of the wheel.

You come to stand beside him, looking at the crew. Somewhere out there was a man who tried to take you all down. He very nearly killed Izzy. He was a dead man.

But that was a thought for later.

"Where are we headed?" Izzy asks, casting his eyes over toward you.

You smile and look at him.

"Wherever the wind takes us."

Izzy's smile is bright. His eyes burn with his love for you. You step closer to him. Izzy lets go of the wheel with one hand and wraps it around you. He pulls you into his side.

"I like that idea."

He kisses you softly.

The Revenge sets sails on the horizon and a whole new adventure awaits. No matter what tomorrow brings, Captain Izzy Hands and his first mate can handle anything.

Do not fuck with the crew of The Revenge.

♡♡���

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer - @bugbugboy - @callmemana - @forwheat-is-wheat - @cool-ontherun-world - @outer-space-beech - @ahewi24 - @grace585 - @innertimemachinegirl - @dmitrytherat - @emilynissangtr - @fruitymoonbeams-blog -

[sunbabycentral]

I have a very certain look for each of the sunbabies in my fic so if anyone is curious and wants to know more, click in the read more for detailed descriptions and their ~approximate faceclaim~ (aka not age accurate, but how I imagine they'll look when they're older)

(Also this got long IM SORRY)

Will: shaggy curly blonde hair that gets more sun bleached in the summer months. A darker golden in the winter, but more angelic halo gold in the summer. Dark blue eyes with a golden heterochromatic center that looks like the sun's rays. A dimple in his right cheek. Once got an ear pierced by his older sister but never wears it. Relents and lets his younger sisters paint one (1) pinky nail gold. Tall and lanky, but stronger than he looks. Stylized sun tattoo in golden ink on his skin. Deeply tanned, but considerably paler in the winter. Long fingers perfect for ring wearing (he never does bc of the infirmary). Delicate looking features, but a boyish delicate. Clear laughter, thick southern accent, voice is slightly gravelly with a bit of vocal fry, but not too much.

Faceclaim I use for him in my head: Gavin Casalegno, specifically in "The Summer I Turned Pretty"

Kayla: ginger hair cut short into a mid length bob, homemade dyed green ends. Bright and clear blue eyes with a golden center like Will's (and all of the Apollo siblings) like the rays of the sun. Paler, but covered in tons of freckles. Muscular from archery training, could knock you out in one punch. User of claw clips to keep her hair out of her face in the infirmary. Doesn't really have an accent, but you can hear her Canadian accent slightly on certain words like "about". On the shorter side. Always has lots of bandages on her fingers from archery and cutting herself on her arrow fletchings.

Faceclaim I use for her: Sadie Sink

Austin: dark skin, warm brown eyes with the Apollo Kid Center. A higher thin voice, very New York accent. Lanky like Will, but won't be nearly as tall as him. Likes to wear gold rings on his fingers. Wears his hair in braids or locs most of the time, sometimes puts gold accessories in them. Still very childlike in his face since he's one of the youngest kids. The best posture in the cabin, can often be found with some musical instrument in hand.

Faceclaim I use for him: Caleb Mclaughlin

Now into the ~semi canon and OC kids~

Anteros: very lithe figure, almost delicate and breakable looking until he's yelling at you in the infirmary. Normally has brown hair, but currently dyes it a silver/white blonde. Piercing blue eyes with The Golden Center, flecks of green as well. Pierced nose on the left side, uses either a gold ring or a sun shaped stud. Enjoys painting his nails with his younger sisters. Higher voice, very Valley (Girl) boy California accent. Would not be caught dead without his Eyeliner. Obsessed with his daggers, is very dangerous, do not piss him off.

My faceclaim I use for him: Troye Sivan

Yan: semi canon. Athletic build, probably the "buffest" Apollo kid. Dark brown almost black eyes with a darker Golden Center. A gazillion piercings in his ears, his favorite being a dragon cuff. Probably will get a lip piercing. The emo kid people think Nico is. Longer shaggy black hair he keeps pulled back in a ponytail with loose bits hanging out. A smile that says "I have done something and you will never know what." Can be found with a leather jacket with a aroace flag lapel button. Enjoys morning runs because he's a masochist. Oldest in the cabin, but refused leadership because his English isn't perfect and Will had been there longer (he was claimed post Manhatten). Can be found swearing in 3 different Chinese dialects because no one can understand him.

My faceclaim I use: Minghao Xu

Melody: French Princess. No really. Long floaty blonde hair with an "Aurora curl" to it. Wears lots of bows and ribbons in her hair. Would not be caught dead without makeup on. Very delicate, regal gait. Was a ballerina and it shows. Has a very thick French accent and switches languages constantly when she forgets the English word for things. The world's biggest lesbian, loves her girlfriend very much. Very girlie, very sweet, Will kill you if you piss her off. Craves violence (jokingly... unless?) Dimples in both cheeks. Green and Blue eyes with The Golden Center. Smile that could blind a person. Very. Short. Pocket sized.

My faceclaim I use: Sabrina Carpenter

Sohee: the cutest baby angel you will ever see. The youngest camper in Apollo Cabin. Wears ribbons and bows in her long straight black hair. Light brown almond shaped eyes with The Golden Center, look almost amber in the sunlight. Dimples in the tops of her cheeks. Has never wanted a day in her life. Would be the last to die in a zombie apocalypse because everyone else would protect her. Brightest laughter you've ever heard, like tinkling bells. Has a slight Korean accent, but not super noticeable unless you're listening for it. Looks like she could be knocked over by a strong wind, but she will kick your ass even though she's ten. Freckles splashed across her nose, and a beauty mark under her left eye. Long eyelashes she bats to get her way.

Faceclaim I use: Hyein Lee

Gracelynn "Gracie": semi canon. Cutie patootie little blondie. Looks the most related to Will. Pretty blue eyes with The Golden Center. Definitely has a Mormon raised mom and you can tell by the way she dresses. Her hair is more wavy than curly, but you can tell it WANTS to curl, but is too heavy. Always looks like she's about to take flight. Pale, but millions of freckles everywhere. Always has a blue headband in her hair. Permanent "I'm terrified" expression on her face. Evil witch giggle you can hear from a Mile Away and it is SCARY. Best swimmer in Apollo Cabin.

Faceclaim I use: McKenna Grace

I will probably make this for some other important non Apollo Kids, but for now, this is too long as it is

[lantanasmuttyfanfics]

Pls pls pls pls im bagging for some red x wolf fic i really dont care if its smut or fluff I JUST WANT THEM PLS

Btw amazing work i love your fics💞💞

Sorry for the wait 😭. I’m really sorry but sometimes I just don’t have the creative energy to write fanfics but I promise the commissions will be done

Anyway I hope you enjoy this smutty fanfic as much as I do if you want a part 2 just lemme know!!

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Little red could only imagine what people would say if they ever found out what she was doing with a certain wolf. They would probably be completely lost as how this came about and even judgmental that little red was dating the enemie of her story. Maybe some would even not believe that little red is dating the big bad wolf.

She probably wouldn’t believe it either if only a few months ago someone told her that she’d be fucking the enemy of her tale during a bright full moon. She would have laughed at them and called them crazy for even bringing the idea up.

But that was before she actually got to know him, before she thought that he was crass and rude too energetic and self absorbed. But during a class assignment she got paired with him and over the weeks that they worked together and saw one an other she started to see the other side of him.

That side seemed to be reserved for only the people closest to him, and a part of her felt warm when she though that he regarded her in such a way. So it was no surprise when he eventually asked her out she said yes without a second thought.

And after seeing what it was like to be the girlfriend of the big bad wolf, she wouldn’t go back no matter the consequences. Especially when he was so… attentive to her when the lust for each other grew so much that they were in the sheets for so long that they nearly forgot about anything else.

And in return she saw him through the long night of a full moon when his more animalistic instincts got the better of him. When he was so wound up with lust for her that he kept her within arms reach at every moment so he could grab her and have her to his will whenever he wanted.

So here they were now, under the full moon of a summer night in the forbidden forest as they embraced each other in tight embrace. Looking up at his eyes she saw the gold taking over the brown, his fangs glinting as he licked his lips while looking at the top of her breasts.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, throwing her head back in a silent moan as he attacked her pale neck that seemed to just beg for him to mark it. He started out softly letting her drown in the pleasure before he started to lap at her skin like a hungry dog.

Red bit her lip her legs nearly giving out as he sucked and nipped at her nape, warmth coursing through every fiber of her body as she clawed at his shirt in an attempt to hold herself up. He grabbed her thigh under her skirt, pulling her leg around his hips before pulling her up.

She gasped her hood flying of her head as she squeezed her legs tightly around his hips, he groaned at the feeling his lips attaching onto her own in a kiss that had her breathless in seconds. As he plunged his tongue within her mouth her hands unconsciously gribbed his hair tugging at it hardly.

He grunted against her mouth and bucked his hips against her while also laying them down on the ground, her hood acting as a blanket against the grass. Once they pulled apart, he was back on her in matter of seconds his lips traveling down her jaw and chest while his eyes gazed at her exposed thigh.

As his hands creeped up her thigh, pulling her dresses skirt higher and higher Red could barely contain a moan when his fingers grazed the side of her panties while his fangs grazed the swell of her breasts. Seeing her expression he smirked against her skin, his free hand coming up to untie the strings holding the dress at top from exposing her breasts.

Once the cool air hit her erect nipples she moaned not being able to hold back, not when he was toying with her panties and breathing lightly againts her breast. “Why are you teasing me?” The question came out in a breathy voice that sounded like music to his ears.

“Just so I can see you withering under me my dear.” For emphasis he scraped his fangs along her breast, the action causing her to arch her back against him. When he repeated it over and over she tried to wiggle away the overstimulation making her mind foggy.

But he gripped her hips tightly, pulling back to him as he gripped her panties and suddenly ripped the off her. Red gazed at him with a silent gasp looking at the torn panties that were hanging from his finger as he leaned down and gripped her thighs open.

He didn’t break eye contact as he leaned forward his warm breath fanning her entrance, letting his teeth graze her as she planted her hands to his hair gripping tightly. And as the first stroke of his tongue touched her she whined loudly, so loudly she was sure that everyone in ever after heard her.

The pleasure flowing through her was so intense her mind was foggy out of all thoughts except him, her want for him to just take her already was driving her crazy to the point where she pushed and grinded against his face.

He smirked against her heat, lapping up her arousal while watching her face contonrat into all different expressions of pleasure. And as he sucked and nipped her heat softly she moaned uttering “my what big teeth you have.” He chuckled nipping again before coming up only so she could hear.

“Better to eat you with my dear.” Warmth spread through her at his words. She knew she shouldn’t find such words so hot but she couldn’t help it, she didn’t care if those were the last words she was going to hear before her destiny took course.

Feeling her high quickly approaching Red clenched her hands on his hair and the ground below her, her back arching as his tongue plunged deep within her walls reaching places she didn’t know existed. He hit a particular spot and her vision went black for a second as she suddenly tipped over that edge.

He continued to lap and suck cleaning her up with his mouth before coming up and caging her between his arms while licking his lips, his pointy fangs glistening with her arousal and the moonlight. Her hands traveled from his hair to his lower stomach as she gripped his shirt tightly, tugging at it as she gazed into his golden eyes.

He complied with her wish and took his shirt of, throwing it somewhere before he leaned back down his hand traveling down her chest to her waist as he pushed her dress all the way up. Feeling the cool air hit her, she wrapped her legs around his waist using her heels to push his down against her.

Red fumbled with his belt and pants, getting quickly irritated as she couldn’t get them undone. He chuckled and gripped her hands, helping her take his belt of before pulling his pants all the way to his knees. They didn’t wait until they were both naked, too eager to have each other.

And as Red pushed him forward again, he growled at her grabbing her arms and pinning them over head before nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, sucking and licking against one spot that had her panting in a matter of seconds.

Seeing her distraction he lined himself up before finally pushing in slowly. He grunted at the feeling his hand squeezing Reds pinned one’s while his other gripped the material of her hood tightly, his teeth grinding together in an effort to not move.

Red didn’t need time tho, it was as if her body was accustomed to him and had been shaped to fit him. So much so that the only thing she felt was pure pleasure the second she felt him.

In indication she bucked her hips against his, sending shock waves of pleasure through both of them as she bit her lips and stared at him with a heated gaze.

He cursed under his breath, grabbing her soft thigh in his large hand before bringing her leg up to her shoulder. Red gasped at the knew position and he took the chance to swallow that gasp as he rutted forward.

The silence of the forbidden forest soon filled with the grunts and moans of the forbidden couple as they enjoyed each others warmth.

Red ran her fingers down his back her own arched so highly her chest touched his own as he nipped and thrusted roughly into her.

The full moon above shone down on them making his head spin with an animalistic pleasure he only experienced in dreams.

Feeling her walls squeeze around him, Red knew her climax was coming sooner than she wanted. In an attempt to hold out the pleasure she licked at his neck grazing her teeth in the way she knew he liked.

As she expected he growled and rutted so roughly into her her body jolted backwards. But the feeling of the movement awakened such feelings she didn’t know existed.

So much so that she continued to lick and nip at his skin in hope that he’d do it again. To her delight he did and a second layer her body was jolting against the forest floor with her sweat trickling down.

He groaned feeling his own climax tittering on the edge. As it did he felt his fangs grow in need and the urge to bite down and mark her consume him.

He didn’t try to fight the instinct to keen with the idea of everyone knowing that she was with him. And as he let a finally hard thirst he bent down and lapped at her skin until he found the perfect spot.

Seconds later he bit down at her pale unmarked column, the action causing Red to hit her euphoria and for her screams to sound about the entire dimension of Ever after.

Once he pulled his teeth out he smirked down at Red his fangs gleaming with drops of crimson blood as he licked his lips.

Red panted her hands fixing her hair as she attempted to get up. But he prevented her as he gazed with a predatory look and said “Where do you think you’re going? This is just the beginning.”

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I honestly didn’t think I’d enjoy writing about these two so much but I do!! Def one of my new faves idk something about forbidden romance just does it for me

Anyway I hope you enjoy and I have a Cleo x deuce commission coming by Tuesday!!

[ceruleanskiesss]

Me when Im boutta post something DOWN BAD abt Bucky on my TikTok but I suddenly remember my MOTHER has it 😭😭😭

Anyways hihi again tumblr, where’s the 2024 MCU fandom at?? I have nothing to offer but a shitty unfinished OC fic, but OMG I am having so much fun with my current fixation :3

Here you can have a taste of it :D it’s not like, shippy or anything (MC is a minor), but I had the idea for one of my ocs in the Marvel universe, and it spiraled into a MASSIVE thing and I could literally go on and on for hours abt them

It was… warm, when the Killer emerged from the facility, its beaten fists still dripping in the gore of its creators, senses wild and on edge. Rays of sun pierced its retinas, dappling through canopies of evergreen– a stark difference from the blaring fluorescence it once knew. Oddly, it didn’t mind. The Killer stumbled through the brightness, knowing so little of itself, its mind torn to shreds. One simple word guided its every step, one simple, unbreakable word seared through its skull with harsh command, Kill.

It wasn’t long before the Killer was approached by local authorities, days at most. It was a policeman who found it, saw the figure wandering the side of the forested roadway, coated in blood. He tried to help it, to offer it aid, until he saw its piercing golden eyes, knit with chilling malice, and realized the blood was not its own. The policeman fumbled for his radio in an attempt to call backup, but was instead met with Killer's bloodstained fists for the last time. Its mind surged with a sickening sweetness, a Pavlovian response for a job well done. It was unsure why, but the Killer paid the feeling no mind as it resumed its trek. By the time backup arrived, the Killer was gone.

It assumed SHIELD was alerted when backup found the body, as the agents in front of it now, blocking both sides of the roadway in a pair of black vans, were unmistakable.

“Hands where I can see them!” One agent shouted, stepping from a van, her gun expertly trained at its head.

Its entire body screamed for the agent's gore, and so, without hesitation, the Killer rushed for her, its cold glare unchanging. Suddenly, multiple different targets emerged from the two vans, firing at it. The Killer felt its own blood beginning to spill, but it didn’t particularly care if it lived or died, its mission was simple after all: Kill.

And so it did.

With a singular well placed punch to the nose, the Killer felt her skull concave with a crunch. Another went to get in melee, but his ribs were completely shattered with two quick jabs. It felt itself growing increasingly heavy, sluggish. A sensation that shouldn't have been possible, even given its malnourished state. Then it realized, suddenly, obviously. Tranquilizers, nearly enough to knock out a hippo. Its body swayed and tinged with the familiar numbing sting as it slammed to the ground, arm still wrapped around a third agent's near lifeless neck.

When the Killer awoke, it found itself bound to a containment unit, senses suddenly sharpening. Its eyes darted around, scanning the room— a warehouse, almost entirely empty, except for the three men in front of the cell that housed it. It tugged at the restraints, hard, and felt a concentrated spike of electricity pulse through its veins in response; it bit back a scream.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” the man on the far left warned, approaching the containment unit, “It's synced to your biometrics, and adapted to your pain tolerances, so for both of our sakes, comply.” Director Nickolas J. Fury, the Killer recognised— this was SHIELD.

The other two men shifted uncomfortably behind Fury. “They’re just a kid, is all of this really necessary Fury?” Steve Rogers, ‘Captain America’, stood in the center, regarding it almost pitifully. That made it want to rip the man’s throat out— it was no child, it had no need for his pity.

“That ‘kid’ just killed two top tier agents in under a minute, nearly a 3rd. So yes, Steve, I consider it perfectly necessary.” Fury sighed, shaking his head. “So what are you, a Super Soldier? Alien maybe? A—” he stopped, the Killer noticed his eyes flit for a moment to the third man, James Bucannon Barnes, ‘The Winter Soldier’.

Rogers stepped forward, breaking its intense stare at Nick Fury. “Let's start with a name. I'm Steve.”

The Killer said nothing, instead shifting its gaze to Barnes. His eyes were different— not hostile, or pitiful, but with a certain mirror to its own, watching back with the same passive glare.

“Name.” Fury snapped, like its handler. The Killer slammed its whole body forwards to Fury in response, teeth bared slightly. It only wanted to give Fury a good scare, but the man didn’t even flinch. Instaid, it felt another surge of energy pulse through its whole body, until it reluctantly jerked back into position.

The Killer considered its options for a moment, the demand still swirling through its mind, heightened with anger, and twinged with primal fear. “#2647302. Sir.” The Killer spat out at Fury, to his satisfaction. Steve looked with visible concern to James Barnes.

Barnes furrowed his brow grimly, as if it just confirmed one of his theories. “I thought I—” he muttered to himself, shifting his gaze away from the Killer for a moment.

“Shit.” Steve muttered.

“I guess I knew what I was talking about after all, ‘ey Barnes? You can see why I needed you and Steve specifically then.” Fury said, a slight smug grin creeping onto his face.

“They’re only a kid.” Steve repeated, mostly to himself. Barnes placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Kid.” Barnes started, his eyes scanning the Killer intently. Not like Steve’s, not with pity, or even visible distress, but the slight uncertain shake in his voice gave his true feelings away: concern. Still, it didn’t mind Barnes. The Killer knew well of his past, his similarities to itself. He understood it. “How long have you been wandering?”

It shrugged nonchalantly; it genuinely didn’t know the answer to his question, so it wasn’t even a lie. Fury and Steve stepped back, allowing Barnes to stand directly across from it.

“How did you get out? Is there anyone following you?” Barnes asked.

It thought for a long moment, before deciding to respond. None of them were going to let it out anyway; it didn’t have much to gain from disobedience other than more pain. “They’re dead.” it responded flatly, not mentioning that it was the cause, but it sensed Barnes knew.

Steve looked to Barnes with mild surprise, likely shocked due to the fact it was giving Barnes information so easily, but Barnes kept his focus on the Killer alone, and pressed on, “Hydra?”

The Killer thought for a moment, then shook its head. Ouranos, it was called. Not affiliated with Hydra’s ideals, but leeching off of its tech and resources all the same.

Barnes sighed, not quite relieved, but it sounded like a small weight was lifted from his chest. “Are you the only one?”

The Killer froze—five words. Suddenly, a flood of memories overwhelmed the killer, and it was back to that night.

Kat was curled on the small bed of their cell, enveloped in a warm rage, their face obscured by plumes of curly, shoulder-length, ginger hair. They heard the scientists approach their cell, and glared defiantly at them with piercing, golden eyes.

“Come.” one of the scientists commanded, their current ‘handler’. Kat just snarled back at him.

“Fuck you.” They spat out with confidence, but their actions betrayed them as they pressed their back into the corner wall, already anticipating punishment.

Two guards entered the cell from out of Kat’s view. “Let’s try this again.” the handler spoke, and Kat felt a sharp pain from the chip at the back of their neck, attacking their nerves directly, causing their body to seize stiff in agony, “Come.”

Where Kat once was, all that was left was a husk, a weapon devoid of will, only to obey orders. It followed the handler without thought or protest into the training room.

“Stay.” the handler said, and so it stayed. It watched as more guards and scientists brought a second figure to the opposite end of the room. Short brown hair framed his uncannily identical face, same golden eyes, but his wide with fear. It did not show his same weakness.

The speaker system crackled to life with the voice of its handler, “New mission: Kill.”

It froze. No. Something inside it shattered as it watched the other figure back into a corner. That was- That was their brother, their twin, No! He was always so much weaker than them. Fractured memories sparked to life of them defending him with all they had. This was wrong, they wouldn’t hurt him.

“N-no” Kat fought through their own mind, the control over them breaking. They dropped their fists in defiance and hung their head. They wouldn’t kill their brother, despite everything Kat had become, that was a line they would never— could never cross. “No.”

The handler simply chuckled lightly, sending a rush of overwhelming pain to Kat that sent them crashing to the floor, screaming out in agony. But it was futile. Their handler’s voice pierced the air once more. “Kill.”

“ –re they alright? What happened?” as it faded back into consciousness, it heard Steve Rogers, standing directly in front of its containment unit, same pity filled eyes, like he was looking at a helpless animal.

Fury sighed, and the Killer swore it could see a hint of worry knit between his brows. “Get them to a room; we can finish this later.” Both Steve and Barnes nodded in response.

“Yeah. Let's go, kid.” Barnes said, as he and Steve wheeled the containment unit into a small room. There was a bed with sheets sitting in the corner, a desk with paper and a pen, and two chairs, one pushed into the desk, and one placed nearby.

“Here, this is only for the time being. There's not much in this place in terms of comfort, but you can ask if you want something.” Steve disabled the containment unit, and the… Killer? stumbled out. It looked to Barnes and Steve for a moment, analyzing how best to take them out, before it's fists just… dropped. The commanding hostility overwhelming their mind just beginning to fizzle out. It cautiously inspected the room.

“No traps, no tricks. We only want to help.” Barnes said, his eyes placed firmly on it, not quite untrusting, but cautious. That was why it didn’t seem to mind Barnes; he understood what it was capable of, though he didn’t see it as a means to an end though, unlike Fury.

“....okay..” it nodded, as it hesitantly sat on the bed, back to the wall, ready to fight if necessary.

“You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks, do you have a preference?” Steve asked, food did seem like a good idea. It shook its head; it had no preference.

“You settle in then. I’ll be back in 15 with food.” Barnes said, and the two left.

And with that it was left alone. Not really alone, it wasn’t stupid; this place had cameras and bugs galore, something, someone, watching it constantly, and it was fine with that– that wasn’t new to it in the slightest.

It… It? What was it? No longer a Killer, at least not for now. It went against programming when it chose not to attack Steve and Barnes— did it really though? It stood no chance against either of them alone, let alone together— that wasn’t against programming, just tactical decision making. If it wanted to complete its task, it needed to comply. That was why it told Barnes the truth, why it didn’t fight the two of them, not because it had any care for the inefficient, mushy part of its brain. It was designed to follow orders, to obey protocol, so that’s what it was going to do, these would just be its, albeit unorthodox, handlers. It could survive here.

It was pacing around the room, lost in thought, when a bag hit the desk. It backed immediately, instinctively, into a wall. It didn’t see anyone come in, but there Barnes was, standing there by the desk, watching it. Had it been 15 minutes? A wave of grease and salt and meat hit its nose, and its stomach betrayed it, grumbling.

“Hey.” Barnes said as he pulled out a chair and sat, sliding the other across the room to it, food-smelling bag sat neatly on top. “Eat. Didn’t know what you wanted, figured McDonalds was as good a bet as any.”

It watched Barnes, examined him, then the chair. It prodded the bag lightly with a finger, before peering in. A cardstock container of french fries, and a wrapped cylinder of what it could only assume to be a burger. The smell made its mouth water, it looked back to Barnes in hesitation.

“Go on, not like it's poisoned. Here.” He grabbed the burger from his own bag and took a bite, watching it, like that proved anything. It was starving, though, and reasonably confident in its ability to handle poisons. It took a bite of its own burger, just one. It was greasy, the product of rampant consumerism in a fast world, but god, was it amazing. It scarfed the burger down quickly, the fries quickly following.

Barnes chuckled, “You really were hungry... Have this.” he held out a cup. It examined his every move, looking for tricks. Nothing. It slowly, tentatively stalked across the room to inspect it, before snatching the cup and backing away. It was cold, and smelled of sweet milk and chocolate. It took a small sip, a milkshake, sweet and rich and fantastic.

“I-” it started, trying to remember how best to string its words together, “Thanks…” It chugged the cold chocolaty drink without hesitation as its body eased, allowing its back to slide down the wall to sit, watching Barnes as a slight smile appeared across his face.

“Yeah. Don’t mention it kid.” he said, eating his own food.

It thought for a moment in silence, watching Barnes, analyzing him. “About-” it sucked in a quick breath, “About what you said earlier…” it shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t meant to speak this much. It was to carry out orders, not to converse with its captors, not to thank them, and certainly not to give out classified information. If these were to be its handlers, however, it supposed it was fine— and so it carried on, “About the others… I- He’s-” it couldn’t go on, couldn’t push a note from its suddenly heavy chest, feeling dread deep in its stomach, “Gone.” it pushed through in a ragged voice, “He’s gone.”

Barnes gave an empathetic look. It didn’t have the energy to get mad at his pity, instead choosing to curl in a defensive ball, pulling its knees up to its chest. “Hey,” he dropped down to the floor, meeting it at eye level, “hey, hey, hey, don’t push yourself. Okay kid?”

The world got foggy around it, spinning, but it nodded.

It could tell he was new to this whole consoling thing. It didn’t suit his hardened eyes and passive mild grimace, but he tried anyway. “I have a… a friend. He might be able to help you. Not Steve, someone else. But-...” Barnes sighed, “But he helped me, he can help you too.” His piercing eyes never strayed from its, and it mirrored his stare, allowing him to pull it in like a lifeline. With the way he was looking at it though, its face must have looked less like the hardened stare it intended, and more like a deer in headlights. That’s what it felt like, at least.

The PA system flickered on with the sound of Fury’s voice, “Don’t bother. He’s already on the way.” It jumped slightly at the sudden noise. Something in Barnes visibly loosened, he relaxed in his spot slightly, now fully sitting on the floor, opposite to it.

The two sat in silence for a few long moments, it wasn’t sure how long. Barnes said nothing, but with his hands to accentuate, he began breathing deliberately. His perfectly even breath slowed, and it followed suit.

The PA system eventually flickered back on with the sound of Fury’s voice, it didn’t jump. “He’s here, Barnes. Get them in cuffs and escort them to interrogation room B.”

Barnes nodded, “Yeah.” He stood, and grabbed cuffs from outside of the room, and slowly, deliberately, walked to it. “You ready?” It nodded, and Barnes crouched down to put them on. It didn’t fight his touch, or the cuffs, its arms going limp in his hands as he put them on and helped it to its feet. “lets go” he said, his voice softer than before. It followed as Barnes led him down corridors, to a discreet interrogation room. Barnes was clearly taking it down the scenic route, avoiding the crowded pathways, though it was unsure if that was for its own sake, or the protection of the staff. It fought its urge to attack the few they did pass, quite glad to avoid the crowds of agents with guns and tense spiteful stares.

Barnes entered the room, and it followed. It recognized the man across the table as Sam Wilson, ‘The Falcon’. It sat down opposite of him, watching him. Sam smiled lightly, likely in some attempt to get it to drop its guard. “You sure they’re not a clone? They’ve got the whole brooding glare down to a T,” he said, as shooed Barnes away half-heartedly, “Fury debriefed me; I can take it from here.”

Barnes nodded. “I’ll be outside.” and he left, leaving it alone with Wilson, well, Wilson, and the cameras, and hidden microphones, and what was clearly a one way mirror.

“Hey, I’m Sam. How are you feeling?” His eyes were steady, but… soft. His voice unwavering, but also caring, it was warm. It thought for a long moment, not quite sure if it should respond, or even how. It wasn’t supposed to feel at all. It just shrugged. “That’s okay, you have something I can call you?” Again? It didn’t see why names were so necessary, they only served as distractions.

It was silent for a long moment, analyzing Sam’s every movement for possible threat, nothing. “#2647302, Sir.” It said, flatly.

Sam nodded with a sigh, “You’re no joke then, real ‘Winter Soldier’ type.” he lowered his guard, deliberately, but it didn’t take the opening to attack, “You’re safe here. Whatever happened out there, whatever mess you left behind, it can’t get you here.” He paused, giving it room to speak if it needed, but it only nodded, silent.

“I can work with nods, if that’s all you can do. Fury tells me though that you spoke in full sentences to Bucky on multiple occasions, is there a reason for that?”

It thought for a while, debating whether or not it should speak at all. “....Barnes is… different… I- I didn’t like Fury.. He gave me orders. Steve looked at me like I was wounded, I didn’t like that either…” it trailed off, every syllable feeling forced and deliberate, “You… I guess you seem fine..”

“You talk” he grinned lightly, it didn’t mind his casual attitude, preferred it, honestly. His voice was warm, easy to talk to, easy to listen, “This is good, it’s progress. I’m glad you feel like you can talk to me, it’ll go a long way. Let’s expand on some of that, what about the way Steve looked at you made you upset?”

It shrugged, thought for a moment. “I-...” it breathed in deeply, almost in preparation, “I don’t like being pitied.”

Sam nodded, “Okay, good. Expand on that, why?”

“Why?..” it puzzled, why was that? When did it start? “...I- I’m not something that should be pitied, empathized with. I-... I’m not… human… anymore.”

Sam raises his eyebrows “Not human? Did someone tell you that, or did you come to that conclusion on your own?” Sam asked on, it… never thought about it before, just a statement of fact.

It shrugged “I-... I’ve ki-” it breathed in, breath suddenly ragged, “I’ve done a lot of bad things, r-really bad.” panic surged through its veins, heart rate quickened as it felt its body shake. Stop it stop it stop it stop it, don’t think, don’t feel, don’t let yourself feel weak. The world swirled around it, threatening to swallow it whole.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re not there anymore. None of what you did was your fault, okay? Stay with me, listen to my voice, come back.” his voice was warm and smooth, like the stone brick fireplace they once loved to get absorbed in. What? How do they- How does it remember? Still, it was enough to pull it back into its body, its eyes refocusing, it was here.

“I want you to do something for me, take a deep breath in, focus on something you can taste.” Sam said in a warm even voice. Taste? It took a deep breath, milk, or, the aftertaste of it at least, the salt of the fries. “Did you do that? Take another breath, now what you can smell.” it took another breath. The air was stale, but- but it smelled the faintness of an air freshener in the air, the world slowed its spin. “That’s good, take another, what can you hear?” It heard Sam’s warm voice, that was easy, it heard the clicking of footsteps distantly outside, it took another breath, “Take another, touch next, what do you feel?” It felt the cold, hard chair it sat in, it felt the cuffs around its wrists, it took a breath. “Finally, what do you see” it focused its eyes, the room no longer spun, it was back, it was there.

“You.” it said, now focusing on slowing its breathing, syncing it with Sam’s. It was okay, it was okay.

Sam nodded, a slight relieved smile on his face. “Good.” he let it take a break for a moment to breathe, “That was a grounding exercise, okay? When you feel in your own head, you can use it to help regain awareness of your surroundings.”

“......sorry..” it whispered to it, tensed up slightly. It let itself be weak, made him have to help it.

“Don’t apologize, you have nothing to apologize for, okay?” he stopped to let the words sink in. “We can be done if you need, a lot has happened today.” It only nodded, staring at the table, then up to Sam. Sam gave it a comforting look in return, “Okay, I’ll give you a moment to breathe, and then we can call in Bucky to take you back to your room, does that sound good?”

“yeah.” It nodded, tried its best to reflect his warm eyes back, though even it knew just it came off as a glare.

Sam left, and after a few long moments, Barnes came back in, it nodded to him in silent recognition and stood, a hint of a softness flickered on Barnes’s face. “Let’s go.” And so they left. The walk back was nicer, there were less people, sure, but even the ones it did come across it was put less on edge by; though, they were certainly put on edge by the two of them. Barnes allowed the two of them to linger by windows when he saw it looking out of one, though they said next to nothing to each other until they reached its room. It was… really nice, actually.

When they reached its room and went inside, Barnes took off its cuffs, and handed it a candy bar. “From Steve. Heard you liked the fast food, was his idea in the first place, so, more junk food." It inspected the wrapper, Hershey's milk chocolate. It unwrapped the bar and bit down, it tasted like heaven. It scarfed the bar down, the corners of its mouth pulling into something of a smile, or at the very least a fond expression. Barnes chuckled lightly, “I’ll tell him to keep the sweets coming.”

It wiped the corners of its mouth with the corner of its sleeve. “Tell him… thanks, and-... and that I’m sorry. For being an ass.” it looked away.

Barnes nodded with a slight smile. “Yeah. ‘Course.” he motioned over to its bed, “Get sleep, if you can.”

It nodded as it sat on its bed, “Yeah, okay.” As Barnes left, it buried itself in sheets and pillows, more than enough to fully cover itself, it was the most blankets and pillows it had ever remembered having. Sleep didn’t come easy for it, it never did, but through some mix of days worth of fatigue, and the soft warmness of the bed, it eventually fell asleep.

Kat looked around, they were in a forest, soft soil and mosses hugged their bare feet, their hands caked in mud. They recognised this place, though they were unsure from where, with their mind and memories so scrambled. They walked, letting their subconscious mind take over, the chilled winds hugging their skin, blowing back curly orange locks from their face. They felt calm here, safe. A part of them missed this, the part of them that remembered what ‘this’ was in the first place, they assumed. It was… nice, though, not feeling the constant rush of energy through their veins, no adrenaline pulsing through their brain. They heard the babbling of a stream, and something in them compelled them to walk towards it, it was only then when they saw- it… it was home. They couldn’t remember, but something inside of them longed for the oak cabin they saw, just past the flowing stream. Something inside of them compelled them to rush for the front door, dashing across the stream without caution as warm soles met frigid water. Their mind ached with feelings of home, eager to return to their old life. They flung open the door, warm grin ot the- No. Nononononononono, stop, this isn’t right.

As the door opened, it was instead their cell that met them on the other side. Kat tried to run, of course they did, but there were guards on either side of them. They pushed back, tried to fight, but they couldn’t, not with that damned chip in their neck, as it sent a paralyzingly sharp pain directly to their nerves that made their whole body give out, as guards threw them to the wall of their cell.

They got up quicker than they should have, only spent a few grueling minutes writhing in pain before they could finally move, only a few more before they were on their feet, dizzy with the sound of their heartbeat pounding in their chest, blood rushing in their ears. The sickeningly familiar feeling of power rushing through their veins ever present. “DAMMIT!” they screamed out, the beginnings of furious tears hot in their eyes, before a guard banged on their cell door.

“Shut the fuck up! Before I come in there and make you.” The guard threatened from outside their cell.

“Not back here, please not back here.” They lowered their voice to a panicked whisper, searching around the room for their stashed fragments of tech, they almost had enough to make a full keycard, they’d been teaching themself how, maybe, just maybe, they could make their escape. But where the bits of tech should have been, there were only sticky notes, perfectly identical smiles on each of them, a cruel joke of their subconscious mind. They never made that keycard, never got the chance to escape.

“Someone wants to meet you.” a cruel voice said, their past handler, as 4 guards entered their cell. Memories flooded through their mind.

“No no no no no please, not today.” they slammed their back to the wall, attempting to gain enough force to break the chip off and fight their way out, “GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING DREAM!” they screamed, their voice going rasp, “LET ME THE FUCK OUT!” The undamaged chip on their neck released a sharp pain that flooded their senses, left them buckling to the floor, allowing the guards to take him easily.

“She doesn’t like waiting, you know.” the handler said with a snarl as the 4 guards dragged their limp body from the room. No, please, anyone but her. They tried to scream, to run, to fight, but they couldn’t move their fragile, heavy body as they were dragged into another room and thrown to the floor. On the other half of the room was a tall woman with a stone cold expression that radiated total authority. Nonononononononono- They couldn’t- not this again.

A cold hand brushed its shoulder, causing it to bolt up immediately. Fear and delirium clouded its senses as it blindly attacked the figure full force, until a cold hand caught its fist. Barnes. Its eyes darted frantically across his form, he was calm, deliberate. Barnes’s piercing eyes stared sharp and unchanging, until it finally dropped its fist, its surroundings still swirling around them. “I-” its voice hitched in a shaky breath, “I didn’t-” it fought with its own body to get a word out, its breaths ragged and uneven. Barnes began breathing deliberately, his flesh hand subtly illustrating the way his chest moved up and down on rhythm, it attempted to follow suit. “I was there.” it stated, trying its best to steel its voice.

“I know.” Barnes nodded, as he sat down beside the bed. It thought for a moment, head still spinning, before joining him on the floor, legs tucked tightly to its chest.

The two sat in silence for a few long moments as its spinning mind became reality. It focused on its breath, and Barnes’s, as it sat there, allowing the silent calmness to pull it back in like a lifeline. “Why are you here?” it looked to Barnes, methodical in everything he did, but… warm– in a way it had never seen him before.

Barnes met its eyes in a shrug, “Would they send a regular person to interrupt the nightmare of a dangerously unstable super soldier?”

It looked away with a small chuckle, “No.” it thought for a moment, eyes glued to the floor. “How do you…” it cut itself off briefly, struggling to find the words, “Do you have them– Nightmares? Ghosts.” it of course knew of the Winter Soldier, more than it would prefer to let on. Hydra was the one to commision its own creation, a backup for if it- if he was ever put out of commission, or more likely, if Hydra fell apart from the inside, and the buyer found himself on the wrong end of the Winter Soldiers barrel. That is all to say it was given detailed files on the Winter Soldier, and the Avengers, and it knew all about the ‘Bucky Barnes’ sat silently next to it, what they did to him, the atrocities he’d committed. How was it he could live such a normal life with these Avengers, how was it he found the strength to sleep at ni-

“Yeah,” Barnes’ voice cut through its stream of thoughts as he turned to it, its eyes flit up to meet him. His eyes were softer, his expression of genuine empathy. “I do. But you learn to be more than the ghosts. You find people, people who drive you to be more than what they made you. ‘One foot in front of the other.’” he placed a hand gently on its shoulder, it didn’t flinch. “You’ll be alright.” he gives a comforting smile, warm, in a way he’d only shown glimpses of before, the coldness knit into his features gone. This was not the Winter Soldier, hadn’t been for a long time. A part of it envied him for it, his ability to move on; It hoped he was right.

As Barnes finally left the room, sleep came easier to it. It found itself drifting off not back into another nightmare, but comforting silence. Barnes’ words echoed through its mind like silent promises for better days to come, and oddly, it found itself believing him. It smiled.

The coming weeks were a blur to it as it became more acclimated to life there. It met with Sam almost daily, it went in for a physical check up it hated, but they had to monitor the long term effects of its modifications. Bucky, Steve, and Sam became regular figures in its new life, Bucky providing practical stability, and Sam giving it a place to process its emotions. It was more hesitant with Steve, Sam had said they both had ‘warring personalities’, which just meant it got along with him like oil and water, but Steve kept trying to branch out, and in turn, it lowered its hostility to him.

It wasn’t allowed outside of its room without Barnes or Steve as a safety precaution, but it decided that was fine. This facility remained infinitely better than anything Ouranos had done for it, so it mirrored that with good behavior, following their orders without complaint. It had even picked up on whispers of transferring it to less strict containment, under supervision, of course.

Steve came into its room with a knock, it was time for it to meet with Sam again. “Hey kid, you ready to go?” he threw it a Reese’s, a personal favorite. Sam said it was good to have opinions, and in its opinion, Reese’s were a gift to the world.

It eagerly tore open the packaging as it nodded, and followed Steve out. “Where’s Barnes?” it asked, before shoving the peanut butter cup into its mouth. He was usually here, with Steve. The two were close –Steve and Barnes– and it didn’t often see the two apart for long.

“He’s out on a mission, sorry kid.” Steve said as they both walked, a slight frown tugged at its lips. Another opinion began to form, it liked Barnes. “Aw, chin up, Buck ’ll be back before you know it.”

It nodded, “I know.” It paused, and offered Steve the other peanut butter cup, a silent peace offering. “...Here.” a wide smile spread across Steve’s face in response. That kind of openness tended to piss it off, it still did, but it managed not to recoil– Sam said it needed to allow others to show care for it. It didn’t quite enjoy others treating it like anything other than the weapon it was designed to be, but Sam said that was a necessary step in ‘regaining their humanity’. It trusted Sam, however, and so it complied begrudgingly.

Steve must have noticed the change in its demeanor, because his warm excitement softened slightly. “Thank you.”

It nodded, fiddling with the wrapper in its hands. It no longer needed the cuffs, the blind aggression from when it was the Killer having mostly subsided, but it still noticed how both Barnes and Steve would take it down routes with the least foot traffic, and would tense up when it was near unfamiliar people. It was warranted, of course; even if it no longer desired to kill them, it could see the way it made others react, and it would not lie and say it didn’t plan the ways it could take them all out, if given the order.

Steve stopped when they approached the door, as it stood in attention behind him. “This is your stop.” he joked, but it only nodded as it entered the interrogation room.

Sam sat casually at the table, “Ah, kid, glad you could make it.” it glided into the seat across from him with a quiet grace. “Have you thought about what I said about that name? It would be a big step in allowing yourself to reclaim a sense of identity” he said, his demeanor warm and welcoming. Sam had the unique ability to shift the energy of the room to match his disposition, the harsh metals and cameras softening in his presence as it adjusted lightly in its seat.

It thought for a moment, before shaking its head, “It’s… It’s hard. Seeing myself like that… Like a person.” It looked down to its hands, flexing them lightly. It thought about how quickly Fury had allowed it to walk cuffless. He said it was because they were unnecessary, that both Steve and Barnes could take it out if the need araised, but it knew it was because Sam said it would help it in recovery. It was more surprised to see Fury agree so easily, having that kind of threat loose. In even the simplest of terms it was a bio-weapon, and not one even Fury seemed keen on utilizing– not yet, at least. “It’s just hard.”

Sam nodded, knowingly. “Your identity has been a loaded topic since you came here, it’s alright to have difficulty unpacking it on your own. Do you want to finally talk about it?”

It paused for a long moment, before nodding slightly, “Okay.” it took a deep breath in, almost mentally readying itself, “How?”

His expression softened with understanding as he spoke, “We can start wherever. What is it specifically that makes seeing yourself like a person so hard? Did you always see yourself like that? Really, it can be anything.” he said, offering potential jumping off points in his same welcoming, fire-warm voice.

It took a moment to steel itself, before starting hesitantly “I… I wasn’t always like… this.” it gestured vaguely to itself, what it was made, what it had become, “I remember… a forest, and a cabin… My house, I think.”

“Right, from those recurring dreams you’ve been having?” he asked, his expression thoughtful, and with a comforting warmness, urging it to continue.

It nodded slightly, “I remember-...” it stopped, briefly choked, but it pushed through. “My brother.” Kit. The world fogged around it as its mind began to spiral, it could feel its body begin to shake as its eyes unfocused. It gripped its forearms tightly, trying desperately to pull itself back in. “Whoever I was- They could never have done what I have.” it choked out, eyes hot with the threat of tears.

“Hey,” he started, voice filling with alarm as he leaned in, “Hey hey hey, stay with me, listen to my voice”

It tried to focus on his voice, to reel itself in, but the words kept pouring out. “I killed him.” it whispered, before repeating again, louder, “I killed him. And I- I can’t even remember it.” How could it call itself his sibling after that, how could it even be his sibling after that. Kit was gone, along with every other helpless soul they’d ever pitted it against. It always told itself it was just survival, but not when it was fighting its own brother.

Sam placed a hand firmly on its shoulder, “That wasn’t your choice, you can’t hold yourself responsible for what they made you do.” he said firmly, warmness radiating from him. They were words he had told it many times before, but they never felt real to it.

“One minute, I hear the order, the command. Kill. And the next-” in paused, throwing its arms out in furious anguish, “Im outside of the facility, blood on my hands— …There was no one left in that thing.”

He paused, his voice softening to a whisper, “It wasn’t your fault.” his voice was warm and comforting, but it wasn’t enough to pull it from its own spiraling mind.

“I’m not human anymore, not after that. I’m a weapon.” it paused, its demeanor softening as it quieted, “I’m a monster.” it looked away from Sam, instead pinning its eyes to the table. It was true, it was set to become Ouranos’ prized weapon, and it was good at it.

“Hey. Don’t think like that, don’t get caught up in it.” he responded firmly, squeezing its shoulder reassuringly, “You’re not a weapon, and you’re not a monster, okay?” in his voice it could tell he believed it, if only it could have that same faith in itself.

“You don’t know that.” it snapped back, “You haven’t seen the things I’ve done. I’m sure every other experiment I was pitted against thought I was one, I’m sure Kit-” it stopped, quieting, “.... no. He didn’t, he never would’ve….”

Sam eased his hand off of Kat’s shoulder, “You were just a kid in a fucked up situation, don’t put the blame on yourself. You have a choice now, kid. You get to decide what you do next, and you know what?” it looked up to meet his eyes, but said nothing, so he continued, “Here, let’s back up a bit. Do you remember last week, when you snapped at Steve? Said he was ‘just a piece of shit with a hero complex, and if he was so desperate to save everyone, fly-’”

“‘Another plane into an iceberg to save everyone from his bullshit’, you really know how to make me feel better.” it grimaced. It was the only time it had heard Fury genuinely laugh, but it had firmly decided that wasn’t a good thing. It remembered how overwhelmed it felt, how hurt Steve looked.

“I’m not finished, do you remember what happened after? You felt so bad, you worried to Bucky that Steve would be too mad to even go near you again. And you know what you did after? You apologized. Would a monster really do that?” he asked, and his logic was flawed, but it understood what Sam was saying.

“What are you-” it started, brows furrowing in what could almost be confusion. “That- That doesn’t-”

“Kid.” Sam said firmly, cutting it off, “You are hurt, your past is messy, but you are not their weapon anymore, and you are not a monster. You got that?” his eyes were completely genuine, but with an underlying firmness and what could almost be urgency.

“You really believe that.” it stated, and it was a fact, Sam clearly did. The room fell into silence for a long moment, before it broke the silence, “What am I then to you? What is it you see in me?”

Sam chuckled slightly, but his warm voice remained genuine, “Well let me see. You’re smart, you’re witty, you’ve got one hell of a sweet tooth.” he paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, “I see a 16 year old kid, who went through too much, too young. I see a kid who’s been hurt more times than they can count, but they’re strong, they’ve had to be their whole life.” he paused again, sighing. “You’re broken, kid, and you’re only now learning how to pick up the pieces.” he places a comforting hand on its arm.

The two sat in silence for a long while after that as Kat took it all in. It supposed that could all be considered true, but after everything it had done, how was it ever supposed to see itself as anything other than the monster that killed its brother.

“My name… before everything, it was Kat.” it looked away with a slight smile, “Kit and I were too small to remember our real ones… they took away everything from our past, you know? So we made new ones.” it chuckled as it remembered back to the years before they were separated. Kit would always joke and laugh through it all, figuring out all the ways to break the rules in new and creative ways. He’d even smuggled in sweets a couple times for the two of them— until he was taken. “Kit-Kat.” it snorted lightly, “Sort of silly, isn’t it? But Kit always knew how to joke like that.”

Sam smiled slightly, “That’s really sweet. You two were really close, weren’t you?” he asked. Close was an understatement for the two of them, at least when they were together. Kit was its twin, they were inseparable— well, poor choice of words, it supposed. They were separated, and spent over 6 years apart, and then— it didn’t want to think about that right now.

“Yeah… I mean, he’s my– he was my twin. He was my best friend.” it looked away as tears filled its eyes. It had no right to call him that, it had no right to be Kat. “I–” it choked, “How could I still be Kat? How could they do something like that to him?”

Sam paused thoughtfully before responding, “That’s not an uncommon way to process grief and trauma, especially given your circumstances.” he said, it could tell he was treading lightly, but he spoke with such comforting certainty, that it was hard not to trust in him. “Your past doesn’t define you, you don’t have to let Ouranos, or anyone else define you. You can be someone new in spite of them, whether that’s Kat, or someone else entirely.”

“Corny.” it retorted, eyes glinting with humor. It sat with his words for it doesn’t know how long. It wanted to be more than a weapon– hell, just wanting proved that it was. “I- I want to be what you see in me. I don’t want to be a weapon anymore.” it looked away, but in it was a certain resolve.

“Well then, that settles it. Who do you want to be then?” Sam’s voice was oddly prideful, prideful in it; he was proud of it.

It thought about his question, it remembered the way Kit always looked at it, from back when they were kids in the forest, he looked up to them. He thought it was so strong even then, but it was weak without him. In the facility he was what kept it going, kept Kat going, and when they took him away it nearly broke. When he came back it had changed, became something violent and unrecognizable, but Kit still looked at it like it was strong, like there was something more inside of it, something warm like before. “He saw me as strong and warm even when Ouranos controlled me. He was wrong though, he was always the stronger of us.” it smirked, but it only felt a melancholy sadness, “I want to be the person he saw in me, even when I’m not sure a person was there. I want to be Kat.”

ANYWAYS I have more technically, but I write mainly on paper. Also Im sry google doc to tumblr translation is a pain in the ass so some of the italics and formatting might be fucked

[catmaidetho]

crow's danger days au design party

hi! to celebrate reaching 200 followers, i'm hosting a design party for my life series danger days au!

what's that mean? beneath the readmore on this post will be a set of written descriptions for the cast of the au. anyone who wants can then draw what they think those characters look like!

do i have to draw all of them? nope! only do the ones you want!

is there a time-limit on this? also no! whenever you've got the time to do it, go for it!

what even is danger days? IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED! danger days is the 4th (and final) studio album by american rock band my chemical romance! it was a concept album, which can be seen in the music videos for nanana and sing. there's also a tie-in comic book series, danger days california. so if you're struggling for inspiration, i suggest watching those music videos or taking a look at the aesthetic of the comic!

if you're participating, please @ me in your finished pieces! :D

characters

these are the main characters featured in my current wip---the extended cast (as well as some picrews/art i've done of some of them) are in this google drive here. go nuts!! :D

Etho (they/them) Etho is a tall, lanky androgyne, and the tallest in their crew. They have unnaturally white hair with dirty blond roots that they keep longer on the top and shaved close on the sides. Their eyes are an unsettlingly dark shade of brown, bordering on black. They wear a black tank top, dark gray camo-patterned cargo pants (the pockets are full of wires and plastic scrap), well-worn black combat boots, and a heavy green jacket that reaches their thighs. They also wear fingerless leather gloves, protective goggles, and a tool belt that their raygun and other extra tools hang from. They wear a black gas mask on the bottom half of their face nearly 24/7.

Small Beans (he/him) Small Beans is considerably shorter than Etho, and the shortest in his crew. He has half-brown, half-green hair that is unkempt at best and a rat's nest at worst. His eyes are a dull green. He wears a black bleach-dyed t-shirt, ill-fitting and ripped light-wash blue jeans, brown work boots with yellow laces, and a vibrant pink leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders and a myriad of patches. He often steals Etho's leather gloves when they aren't looking, although does own a pair of their own fingerless gloves that have been painted with hand bones.

The Scar (he/him) The Scar is slightly shorter than Etho, and somehow manages to be quite buff. He has well-kept, short brown hair. His eyes are deep green. He has more scars on his skin than can be counted, mostly healed sunburns and raygun shots. Before he joined Etho's crew, he was often seen wearing burgundy slacks and a white, short-sleeved button up shirt. After joining Etho's crew, his outfit completely changed to a skin-tight, short-sleeve black shirt with a triangle cut-out on his chest, black leather pants, surprisingly well kept black boots with mismatched orange and teal laces, and a half-orange-half-teal windbreaker. He is the only member of the crew to never lose his sunglasses.

Pesky Bird (he/she) Pesky Bird is somewhat taller than Small Beans. He has a decently-kept mop of blond hair. Her eyes are rich, chocolate brown. He wears a white t-shirt, straight-fit blue jeans, boots that may have been black once but are heavily faded by the sun and wear, and a bright red leather motorcross jacket with a large patch on the back of parrot wings. She also has a matching biker helmet.

the extended cast can be found in this google drive!

[starg1rlie]

hello! if you dont mind, [💍] w/ kaeya please? im very quiet to the point people dead ass think I'm mute and i have this horrible thing called a resting bitch face that usually scares off people befriending me. a loner but i don't mind it,, but when i get comfy with someone i get really loud, touchy, all smiles, talkative and very friendly, complete opposite... my hobbies are writing (romance mainly), drawing, reading and researching about things i like. i tend to rant about it. ty for your time! you don't have to do this, no pressure <33 have a good day/night!

(heyo, thank you for inputting a request! so sorry it took me so long to write it out for you, but i hope that you'll enjoy these little hcs....hopefully. ahem, happy reading! people wanting to send in a 💍, are more than welcome to! simply list your favorite character, a few hobbies, as well as some of your personality traits!)

ice skating with him

despite his earlier bragging, kaeya couldn't help but gulp nervously when he stepped a wobbly foot onto the ice rink. you insisted on going ice skating for a winter date, since it was "romantic" and all, and as much as he agreed to it, he really didn't see the appeal to ice skating. it was dangerous, no? only dangerous if you're bad at it, you'd teased him earlier before you darted off across the ice, smoothly piveting like a pro. he scowled under his breath and took small baby steps before he yelped, nearly slipping onto his ass. thank god for the railing, otherwise he would have had a sore behind for the rest of the date. need some help? you asked him, skating to where he crouched. kaeya shook his head stubbornly, standing up shakily and taking a step before slipping and falling face-first in the ice. even though your laughter stung his ego, at least he didn't land on his butt...

chatterbox 24/7

kaeya talks your ear off all the time, and if you don't tell him to shut up, he'll continue to go on about his day and complain about the bad things, sort of like he's venting to you, but not venting at the same time. he finds your "bitch face" adorable and amusing, and says, "c'mon, give me a smile, angel," while tugging at either of your cheeks to pull your lips up into a smile. he does this whenever you look like you're about to murder someone, mainly because that expression unnerves him, and also because he likes it when you smile more.

he's your personal editor

kaeya actually is a romance novel lover, so when you bring up your hobby of writing, he practically begged you to let him be your editor. please? pretty please? PREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTY please? he legit got down on his knees for you, taking both your hands in his and looked up at you with the best puppy dog eyes he could muster, putting every irresitable fiber of his being into it, just so he could get a looksie at your works. if being adorable doesn't work, he'll shed the child(e)ish coat and bring out the fliratious side of himself to get the job done. when he succeeded (let's be real: he will succeed), he let out a low whistle while skimming through your current draft, murmuring, you're pretty good at this. 10/10 editor, would hire again.

kabedonning you

the only reason why he loves kabedonning you is your expression. it's priceless and he'd do it over and over again just to see it. even if you don't react to it, he still finds amusmenet in it, and will take any chance he has to just randomly press you up against the wall with the widest smirk on the planet earth tugging at his lips. some days he'll be bold and lean in, letting his breath brush against the shell of your ear as he whispers, hello there, to you, as casual as can be.

random late-night drives to nowhere

kaeya cranked the volume up as his favorite song came on, rolling down the windows as well with a devlish grin adorning his features while he sings along. gold jewelry shining so bright, strawberry champagne on ice, he'll croon, leaning dramatically against you, even though he should be paying attention to the road. all the while, passing car passengers stare at you two weirdly. he took you out for late-night drives often now, and tonight, it resulted in a bag of some midnight carls jr. stuffing a handful of criss-cross fries into his mouth, he parked the car in front of your place, turning off the engine and turned to give you a kiss (after he finished swallowing of course), salt crumbs brushing against your lips. same time next saturday?

dancing in the middle of the night

(inpsired by rihanna's "dancing in the dark") you were roused from the comfortable haven of your bed at precisely 12:45 am, much to your distress. kaeya had dragged you out to do a little couple's tiktok for his page, and you reluctantly agreed, seeing as he wouldn't possibly let you fall back asleep now. he put on the song and ran out of the house with you in tow, setting up his phone and slid a hand to your waist. dance with me, he said with a bright and dazzling smile, one that would be incredibly impossible to say no to. and so you danced, till you were dizzy from all the spinning and dips he did. watch this video blow up overnight, kaeya said jokingly as he tucked you and himself back into bed twenty minutes later. good night, angel, he murmured against your shoulder. good night, you doofus, you replied, causing the blue-haired male's lips to curve upwards.

hiding post-it notes around the house

kaeya knows that some days you can get busy, too busy in fact, that you have to leave the comfort of his arms and bed to get your day started. and so, him and his genius brain came up with an idea to leave post-it notes around the house. not to piss you off, to remind you he loves you. a green one is stuck on the front of the fridge, with the words good morning angel scrawled on it in blue ink, signed with a fancy-looking 'k'. even though it wasn't anything too special, you loved finding all the hiding spots he hid them in, and you even saved them for your scrapbook. not packrat behavior, just, keeping them for the memories. although the red post-it note in the toaster was a bit too much...