#decided i am making stupid lil posts here and forcing them onto everyone else

[giohexora]

i love jayce giopara x jayce talis x machine herald, because yes, talis gets to be sandwiched sometimes, but. but. have y'all ever thought about how much of their shit talis has to deal with on a daily basis.....

[kouomi]

Home

Summary: Atsumu looks back on your relationship and finds himself longing for the person he called home (Miya Atsumu x f!reader)

Warnings: lil bit of fluff, heavy angst, mentions of death, fighting

Word count: 2,708

A/N: italicized parts are in the past! lil heads up this is not edited!! Someone please hug Tsumu cause I made myself sad writing this

My Masterlist

Posted: March 14th 2021, 8:30 AM EST

“‘Tsumu!” You gasp as your flung onto the couch, a chorus of laughter following your cry. The two of you tumbled around for a few moments before Atsumu pins your hands to your side, a leg on either side of your hips as he grins at his victory.

“Don’t you dare.” You warn, knowing all too well what the mischievous glint in his eye meant. Your warning is too late, however, as his hands move to attack your sides sending you into a flurry of laughter. Tears pricked at your eyes as he mercilessly continued to tickle you, his own laughs of amusement being heard over yours.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard ya.”

“You win! Stop!”

Seemingly satisfied with your call of forfeit Atsumu draws his hands away from your sides, only to fall on top of you making a squeal pass your lips. His arms loop around your waist as you tried to shove

-

Atsumus eyes nervously scanned the large crowd as he stepped out on to the court, the loud cheers and blaring band falling upon deaf ears as all he could hear was his thoughts whizzed by faster than he could focus on one. It was his first game of high school and while he was able to hide it well, below the surface of his facade he was swelling with nerves and worries. What if he messed up his serve? What if he did something to lose the game for the third years? What if something he did this game made the entire team turn on him like they did in middle school?

Before he could fully process what was happening the referee passed him the ball, hundreds of eyes following its course into his hands. Taking a deep breath, Atsumu spun the ball in his hands.

Don’t mess up.

How many steps do I take?

Is this too far?

What if I throw it up wrong?

Don’t. Mess. Up.

“Go Atsumu!”

The sudden call of his name pulls him out of his thoughts, his attention being drawn back towards the crowd. After a few moments of searching his eyes meet yours, a sense of calm washing over him as you smile back at him. She came, he thought to himself, his own smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. With you there, surely everything would be

-

“Y/n, can ya please let me in?”

“Go away!”

Atsumu sighs as he leans his head on the bathroom door, his hand once again trying the handle though the lock prevents it from turning.

It was a stupid fight, one that’d been building up over time that suddenly boiled over causing you both to explode at each other. Both of you had said things you didn’t mean, harsh words being thrown at each other since you arrived home. Your throats had gone raw from trying to speak over each other but you both refused to back down, tunnel vision preventing you from hearing one another out as you pressed to prove you were right.

Looking on what you’d said now having been sitting outside the bathroom for about an hour he understood why you’d been upset and, while he didn’t quite want to admit it, you were in the right.

While he knew this now, it didn’t help what had gotten him in this situation in the first place. At the peak of your screaming match he found himself blinded by anger and words he’d never thought he’d ever say to you passed his lips, rolling off his tongue before he realized what he was saying.

“All I’m saying is I want to spend some more time with you! Is that really too much to ask?” You asked, exasperated.

“Ya knew when we started dating how busy I am!” Atsumu exclaimed, “Why are ya suddenly so mad about it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you spend more time with your fan girls than with your actual girlfriend!”

“Really? Yer pulling that? It’s not my fault yer so needy Y/n, I’m not gonna drop my practices just to make ya happy all the time!”

“If you think I’m needy why don’t you go date one of the girls who keep throwing themselves at you?”

“Maybe I should! They’d probably be less annoying than ya!”

“‘Tsumu, wait-“

“What? Finally realizing how easily I could replace ya? Yer the one who suggested it, remember?” He scoffs, ignoring how you’d shrunken, “Ya should be thankful for the time ya get with me, cause if not there’s other girls who could take yer place. I don’t need ya.”

As soon as he said it he froze, almost not believing that those words had actually come out of his mouth. The look on your face unfortunately proved it to be true, however, as he could see the way it seemed as if all of the fight and anger had been drained out of you leaving you with a hollow expression. You but your lip as you shook your head and shoved your way past him, ignoring all attempts he made at stopping you as you slammed the bathroom door in his face.

“Baby, I’m sorry okay? Can ya unlock the door so we can talk?”

“Leave me alone, Atsumu.”

He felt a pull at his heart at the slight crack in your voice followed by quiet sniffling, guilt threatening to swallow him whole as he realized you were crying because of him.

Unable to put up with you locking yourself away any longer, Atsumu grabbed a bobby-pin from your room and got to work unlocking the door with it, successfully doing so after a few minutes. Almost as soon as the door swung open he’s kneeling on the ground beside where you were curled into a ball, frantically scanning his mind for something to do.

“Y/n...” He says, reaching a hand out to brush your hair away from your face.

He cringes when you flinch, temporarily drawing back before reaching out again this time wrapping his arms around your shuttering frame. Though you temporarily resisted, ultimately you found yourself melting into his embrace as you adjusted to wrap your arms around his torso. Atsumu pulls you into his lap, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as you cried into his shirt while the other ran up and down your back. The two of you sat there until your tears slowed to a stop, Atsumu not daring to move a muscle in fear of scaring you off.

“You really are an asshole, Atsumu.” You mumble, your grip on the fabric of his tshirt tightening.

“I know.” He sighs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean any of that. Yer the best girlfriend I could ever ask for, no one else even begins to compare. And yer right, I’m not spending enough time with ya but I’ll try to, okay? I love ya so much.”

“I

-

The two of you lay on the couch in your living room, the only sound being that of the TV you’d turned on for background noise when your boyfriend had appeared at your front door. You’d anticipated his arrival, having watched the game against Karasuno on your phone the day before and such expected the defeated and angry atmosphere that surrounded him.

Atsumu lay on top of you with his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, holding himself in place against you. One of your hands rested on the back of his head that rested on your chest as the other ran up and down his back, paying attention to rub in the patterns you knew he liked. He hadn’t said a word since he arrived other than a short “missed ya”, having passed all welcomes in favor of clinging to you, his body melting into yours. After the loss at nationals he had wanted nothing more than to curl up in your arms, the long trip home seeming to go slower as he counted down the seconds until he could finally be here.

“You did really good.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he tensed slightly. “I’m proud of you.”

“It wasn’t good enough.” Atsumu says, voice weak compared to its usual light hearted tone. “I lost the game for everyone.”

“You weren’t the only one playing, ‘Tsum. It isn’t all one person’s fault. But you are one of the reasons you guys were even able to get that far, yeah? Don’t beat yourself up over one play.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he processes your words, as if trying to decide if he’ll believe you or not. He moves his head upwards so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, the feeling of a tear falling onto your skin pulling at your heart as you give him a small squeeze.

“It’s just- it was-“ He stutters, his words shaky and ultimately cut off by a sharp intake of breath as he tries to hold back his tears.

“I know.” You murmur, “But you’re still the best setter there is, y’know? And the best boyfriend, best teammate, best looking; you’re so much more than that one game.”

“...Best looking twin?” He asks quietly.

You laugh, “Yes.”

The sound fills his ears, providing him with a sense of comfort no words or actions had been able to. You always knew the right things to say, to do, to comfort him and make him feel better when he was at his lowest and felt ready to give up. Something about you warded off all of the negatives and filled the air around you with warmth. Something about you felt like home. Something about you made him sure that one day, he was going to m

that’s how things between the two of you went, always being cut off too soon. All of his memories with you, each I love you, each kiss, each quiet afternoon spent cuddling on the couch watching movies, everything was ended before it was supposed to. Even your relationship went that way, being cut off, suddenly forced to a stop before it could even really begin. Each memory was halted right in the middle, part of each story missing making them feel impartial and almost fake with holes in their plots and the endings missing. Everything was so vivid, yet so vividly fading at the same time it terrified him that he was losing what little left he had of you. Details faded away so all he was left was glimpses of a memory that didn’t even feel like his anymore; left looking through a foggy window on to a life he wished he still had.

Every day without you felt bland. No longer did he have your soft voice scratchy with sleep whispering in his ear in the mornings; your fingers lacing with his as you wandered around the shops; your body searching for his warmth during the night. The apartment that had once belonged to the both of you was now void of your glowing presence, the air stiff and too quiet without you. His happy, care-free smile had faded from his face and become less frequent as he found himself wondering what he was supposed to do without the one person he could call home.

“I got invited to play for the Olympics next year.” Atsumu says, not quite as enthusiastic as it should be, “Ya always said I’d get there one day.”

No response comes.

“It really sucks without ya here, Y/n.” He continues, feeling his throat start to constrict, “I miss ya. A lot.

It’s already been a year, can ya believe that? I don’t want to believe it. A whole year with ya gone. It’s just... not right.

Sometimes I forget for a few minutes, and I think yer gonna be there when I open the door just like ya always were. It scares me, cause I can’t remember everything, even yer voice is a little gone without the videos. I could never forget yer smile though, even with all the pictures. I think that’s my favorite thing about ya.

I really took everything for granted. I wish I could go back and just hold ya, one more time. One more kiss. One more time hearing ya say I love you. Just something to hold onto. It’s not right, nothings right without ya here. Ya were the reason I was always so happy, ya made everything seem so much brighter, but now it’s just... bland. It’s like I can’t be happy without ya, I don’t wanna be happy without ya.” He stops to wipe his face of the tears that’d begun to fall, though new ones quickly slip into the tracks of the old.

“I wish you’d just come back. Sometimes I get mad at ya, for leaving me here alone, but ya know I can’t stay made atcha for long. It just hurts, knowing yer not coming back... Yer not coming back.”

He hits his lip, the air in his lungs feeling to heavy as if it’s trying to suffocate him from the inside. Everything falls on him at once, like a thick sheet of snow covering everything in sight and leaving him cold and numb yet burning and screaming at the same time. You’re gone. His Y/n, his beautiful wonderful, amazing Y/n, was gone. Everything hurt, every breath, every small movement of his body as it shook with sobs, every nerve; everything hurt as he longed for something that was so painfully taken away.

“Please Y/n/n... I don’t know what to do without ya.” He cries, eyes squeezing shut, “I miss ya, just please... come back to me.”

Still no response. The only sound being Atsumus cries muffled by the snow he sat buried in.

Atsumu barely notices the hand placed on his shoulder, only acknowledging the other person when they call his name.

“Hey.” Osamu starts, glancing down at his brother with eyes heavy with concern before flickering back up. “Do ya wanna minute?”

He doesn’t respond, another cry being answer enough as he feels his body collapsing in on itself. Risking his legs giving out beneath him, Atsumu stands and throws his arms around his twin, desperately clinging to him as if trying to find an anchor to the world. Osamu didn’t say anything as he held the blonde, feeling his own tears prick at the corners of his eyes at seeing his brother so torn and distraught.

He’d known this was going to happen today, that no amount of words would even begin to fill the void within him and every attempt at comfort would fall upon deaf ears so he didn’t try. Instead, he sat there. For a time unbeknownst to the pair they sat on a bench Osamu was able to coax Atsumu towards, no words daring break the silent agreement they’d made to not speak. They sat there until Atsumus heavy sobs eventually eased to a dull crying and he pulled away, eyes meeting his brothers for a moment as if to thank him before he let his head fall back on to the bench to face the sky.

“Come on.” Osamu said quietly, standing and waiting for the other to follow. He does after a moments pause, eyes lingering on the grave he’d sat beside and tracing over your name before he lets out a heavy, shaky sigh and started walking away, ignoring his mind that screamed at him to stay.

“Let’s get ya home.”

Atsumu obliged but he knew that part of him lay within you, that where ever you went, no matter how far was where his home was; that, without you, away from you, he’d never truly be home again. So he left, leaving with you the pieces of himself he’d given away and the memories that failed to fully reanimate with hopes that maybe, if he couldn’t be with you now at least you could find your way back to him, waiting for you to fall into his arms and bring him wherever you had settled; the place he so desperately longed for: home.

[klaineanummel]

looking for something that’ll (never) come 1/6

Blaine Anderson-Chang knows that his crush on his brother’s best friend, straight football star Kurt Hummel, is foolhardy. But every now and then Kurt gives him a look and Blaine can’t help but wonder.

Hey everyone!! Welcome to my newest fic :D This is a fic I’ve been wanting to write for ages, and am finally getting around to hehe it’s a fill for a prompt on the Glee Prompt Meme (link on AO3 and in the sidebar). This fic is complete, and I’m hoping to post it in its entirety over the course of the next two weeks or so. Hope you enjoy!! 

Title from I’ve Been Waiting by Lil Peep

Blaine doesn’t have to be looking at Tina to hear the eye roll in the, “Oh my god,” she lets out when she pulls up in front of Blaine’s house.

Blaine forces his eyes away from the black Escalade parked next to his driveway, turning to his friend with a, “What?”

Tina sighs, leaning her forearms on the wheel. “Blaine.”

“What?” Blaine repeats, knowing he sounds totally unconvincing in his confusion. He knows he sat up a little straighter when he’d seen the car, and he can’t remember doing it but he’s pretty sure he did that little excited wiggle that Tina and Sam are always making fun of him for.

He’s never claimed to be a subtle person.

“Just… chill, okay?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m chill.”

Tina raises an eyebrow. “You did the wiggle, pal.”

Yep, there it is. “Maybe I’m just excited to be home. Not have to see you anymore today.” He sticks his tongue out as he says it, hoping it will distract her.

This time he does see her roll her eyes. “Sure, Blaine. Whatever you say.”

He sighs, moving his messenger bag strap onto his shoulder and clutching it tight in his lap. He opens the door and sets one foot on the sidewalk. Then, he turns back to her and says, “It’s not because of Kurt.”

She frowns in faux-confusion. “I didn’t say anything about Kurt.”

He groans, and fully steps out of the car. He doesn’t close the door just yet, though, instead leaning against the top of it so he can still see Tina. “Thank you for driving me home.”

“Thank you for helping me pick out my prom dress,” she replies, still staring at him completely unimpressed. She glances past him, to his house, then looks back at him and says, “Text me later, okay?”

He snorts. It’s one of the things he loves most about Tina – she may give him shit, but at the end of the day she lives for the drama. No matter how much she disapproves of his crush, he knows he can always go to her with all the sordid details of whatever minute interaction he is overthinking. It’s great. Like having both the devil and the angel on his shoulder wrapped up in one person.

“You know I will,” he says, winking at her. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Blaine,” she wiggles her fingers as he finally shuts the door.

He heads up to his house, pulling out his keys and turning briefly to give Tina a final wave goodbye as she drives away. He then takes a deep breath and unlocks the door.

The first thing he hears is the sound of the TV from the living room, just a little louder than he knows Mama J likes it. He takes off his outside shoes and slips into his slippers, setting his keys on the hook with his name written above it in Mama P’s neat script.

He decides to drop his things off in his room before braving the living room, so he hurries straight up the stairs. When he reaches the top, he hears a couple of voices saying, “Come on, come on,” followed by a loud cheer a few seconds later. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he walks into his room.

He hangs up his messenger bag on his coatrack, then heads to his closet, opening the left door so he can see himself in the reflection.

He knows it’s stupid to be concerned about how he looks. Kurt has seen him stumbling out of the bathroom at 2 o’clock in the morning with toothpaste still smeared on his face. He was front and center for the inside-out sweater vest ordeal. He’s even seen Blaine without hair gel, for goodness sake.

Still, he can’t help it. He wants to look nice.

He wants Kurt to think he looks nice.

He fixes his hair a little bit, tucks his polo back into his jeans, and adjusts the cuffs of his jeans slightly. He looks himself over for a moment more, then nods approvingly and closes his closet door, heading back downstairs before he can work himself up too much.

He’s just reached the bottom of the stairs when he hears Mike call out, “Blaine? Is that you?”

Blaine heads to the living room, poking his head in as though he’s just stopping in on the way to the kitchen. “Yeah, it’s me.”

Their living room is full of teenage boys. Three on the couch, two on the loveseat, and Kurt, as always, lounging in the recliner. They all look up at him when he speaks, and Finn even graces him with a wave. Then, as soon as he had the eyes of six football players on him, he no longer does, the pull of the football game far too strong.

As subtly as he can, Blaine flicks his eyes over to where Kurt is sitting, leaned forward with his legs spread wide, elbows rested on his thighs. He’s still watching Blaine, smirking a little, and Blaine looks away quickly, already feeling a blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Hey,” Mike says, grinning at him. He scoots a little down on the couch, forcing Finn and Matt to squish together even more. “You wanna join us?”

Blaine glances at the TV, wrinkling his nose a little. He doesn’t really care for either of the teams playing, and as much as he’d love to be in the same room as Kurt for the next hour or so, he does have a lot of homework to do.

Plus, he’s been informed very indelicately by his friends that he is completely obvious about his crush, and he isn’t sure if he should put himself in a position of being caught staring at Kurt for an hour straight.

“I think I’ll pass for today, but thanks.”

“Aw, come on,” Kurt speaks up, still smirking, and Blaine’s heart skips a beat in his chest. “Bobcats, man. We’re destroying the Ravens.”

Blaine scrunches up his face a bit. “More of a college football guy, to be honest.”

“Dude, he said no,” Finn says, shoving Mike back over on the couch. “There isn’t really any room for him here anyway.”

“Yeah, cause you’re on here,” Mike replies, shoving Finn right back. “Besides, Blaine is small. You could fit two of him where you’re sitting.”

Finn just laughs, but Blaine finds himself blushing a little at that. Small isn’t exactly the word he wants his brother’s friends associating him with. Especially one of them.

“I got tons of room over here,” Kurt says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Now he’s definitely blushing, but he manages to hit back with, “Careful Kurt, I might take you up on that.”

A couple of the guys laugh, but Kurt just keeps watching him, smirk still firmly in place.

God, Blaine cannot figure him out.

Without saying anything else, Blaine removes his head from the living room and heads down to the kitchen. He immediately pulls out a glass and grabs some water from the fridge, sipping it slowly.

The thing is, he knows Kurt’s straight. It’s kind of the biggest reason that Sam and Tina give him so much shit over his crush. And he’s not just like, average straight, he’s really straight. Football player who dates cheerleaders straight. Drives an Escalade straight. Texts girls late at night asking if they’re up with the eggplant emoji straight.

But he also does things like stare at Blaine intensely whilst smirking. Or ask him to share a recliner that’s barely large enough for just Kurt. Or text him whenever he’s drunk, asking why he never comes to parties with Mike. Or get really annoyed when Blaine doesn’t come to one of their football games, and then really excited whenever he does.

He doesn’t want to be that guy that’s constantly wondering what if, especially since he’s specifically heard Kurt call himself heterosexual on multiple occasions and he really wants to respect that, but sometimes he can’t help it.

Maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in him.

He sets his glass of water by the sink, then walks over to the cupboard Mama J always keeps stocked with junk food and pulls out a half-full pack of Oreos. He picks five out, then puts the pack back and leans against the counter, biting into the first one slowly.

“Yo, Mini AC.”

He looks up, eyes wide as Kurt walks into the kitchen. He has to force himself not to obviously check Kurt out, but it’s so hard because, damn, he had not noticed earlier exactly how tight the t-shirt Kurt is wearing is.

“Hey,” Blaine replies after swallowing the cookie in his mouth. Kurt walks right up to him until he’s leaning next to Blaine on the counter.

He grins down at Blaine, then reaches out and steals one of Blaine’s Oreos. It brings their bodies slightly closer, their hips now brushing together ever so slightly.

Blaine is pretty sure he’s no longer breathing.

“You’re weird, you know that?”

“Huh?” It comes out like an exhale of breath.

“Why do you always eat your snacks in the kitchen?” Kurt takes a bite out of his cookie. “A normal person,” he continues, mouth full of cookie, “would grab his snacks and,” he swallows, “take them up to his room. Or out into the living room, where his friends are.”

Blaine swallows thickly. “Well,” he says, tongue feeling thick as he watches Kurt pop the other half of the Oreo into his mouth. “I don’t like to eat in my room because I hate crumbs. And, uh,” he glances at the doorway just as a loud cheer erupts form the living room. “You guys are really more Mike’s friends. Don’t want to cramp his style.”

“You hate crumbs,” Kurt mutters, grinning and shaking his head. “You’re really something else.”

Blaine presses his lips together to stop the ear-to-ear grin he can feel himself wanting to break into.

“But you’re wrong about the second part,” Kurt says, leaning over to steal another one of Blaine’s cookies. “We’re your friends, too. I mean, christ, we’ve been parking our asses on that couch for like ten years now. You even join us sometimes,” he nudges Blaine with his elbow, and it pushes him away just a little bit. Blaine immediately misses the warmth of Kurt’s body, and wonders if there’s a subtle way he can get close again.

“Sure,” is all he manages to say.

Kurt shakes his head, chuckling. “You coming to the game Saturday?”

Normally Blaine would play coy, see if he can get a reaction out of Kurt by saying he won’t, but, well. He can’t really pretend given what game it is. “You guys are up for the championship. Obviously, I’ll be there.”

Kurt nods. “Good. Need my good luck charm, you know.”

And that’s another thing that confuses Blaine. Because no matter what girl Kurt is currently dating, or sleeping with, or pursuing, he always calls Blaine his good luck charm. And every single time Blaine attends a game and they win, the very first thing that Kurt does is look for him in the audience and point directly at him.

Sam tells him it’s a superstitious thing, but Blaine can’t help but wonder.

“Oh, good, you’re still here,” Blaine looks away from Kurt, surprised to see Finn walking into the kitchen, too. Without thinking, Blaine inches ever so slightly further away from Kurt.

“Hey, Finn,” he says.

“Yeah, hey,” Finn waves a dismissive hand. “Look, you remember the game last weekend? Against Dalton?”

Blaine frowns, then glances up at Kurt confused. He’s hoping it’ll be a small moment of comradery between the two at Finn’s strange question, but instead he finds that any trace of a smile has disappeared from Kurt’s face. His jaw is actually jutting out a little, and he’s sending Finn a fairly icy glare.

It just makes Blaine frown more as he turns back to Finn with a, “Yeah, why?”

“Well,” Finn continues, clearly completely oblivious to Kurt’s stare. “I went to camp a few years ago with the Dalton quarterback, Sebastian Smythe. He noticed you when you came onto the field to congratulate us and thought you were really cute.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “What?” He hadn’t really been paying attention to anything other than the fact that as soon as he stepped foot on the field Kurt immediately ran up to him and picked him up in a way-too-tight hug that literally swept Blaine off his feet.

“He asked if I knew you and if you’d be interested in getting coffee with him sometime,” Finn is wiggling his eyebrows as he says it, and Blaine feels his heartrate going up a little bit.

“Well, I mean,” Blaine glances up at Kurt again, and yeah, Kurt is definitely glaring at Finn. “I don’t really know him. Or what he looks like.”

“Dude, he’s totally hot for a guy,” Finn says. “And he’s like, nice and stuff. You’ll like him, for real.”

Blaine presses his lips together. He glances up at Kurt again. Kurt, who he has had a crush on for over a year. Kurt, who confuses him. Kurt, who hugs him like he’s the only person who exists but then hooks up with a cheerleader later in the night.

He’s never really been asked out before. Is he really going to say no because of a guy who can’t even return his feelings?

“Uh, sure,” he finally says, shrugging.

Finn does a tiny fist pump. “Sweet! I’ll send him your number and you can fix something up. You’ll seriously like him a lot, I swear dude.”

“Great,” Blaine says, giving a weak smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Finn grins at him, then turns around and leaves again. Blaine looks back up at Kurt as he goes, hoping the iciness will have left his eyes, but it hasn’t. Instead, he’s still glaring daggers where Finn just was, and his arms have come up to cross over his chest.

“That was weird, huh?” Blaine says, hoping to diffuse some of the tension. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever—”

“Yeah,” Kurt cuts him off. “Right. Look, I’m missing the game, so.”

He pushes off from the counter and walks out of the kitchen without even giving Blaine a chance to respond.

“Right,” Blaine says, though he knows Kurt won’t be able to hear him. “Bye, then,” he says to nobody, eyes falling down to the cookies in his hands.

He sighs, shoves one in his mouth and leaves the kitchen, eating the other one as soon as he swallows the first one.

He really hopes that Tina is home by now, because he doesn’t think just texting her is going to suffice this time.

[pokemagines]

future child. (michalis x reader)

anon asked: “I'm liking the idea of Michalis, meeting his future kid with summoner...whose not only a girl (whelp goodbye firstborn son and heir), but also rides a cute lil pegasus too and is ironically scared of wyverns. (it'd be nice if you could whip up a scenario/headcanon for this, but if not that's fine too..i just needed to get this off my chest bc its simply too cute)”

a/n: haha i’m glad y’all seem to like this... series of sorts ^^ the only difficult part is coming up w “fire emblem” names for the kiddos rip! --mod touko

also (i feel like i always put an ‘also’ on my posts bc i never shut up lmao!) i got fe: warriors this weekend and just finished the main story! it was aight tho the best part about it is unlocking f!robin she’s so pretty aaaa!!!

other “future child” stories: alfonse // sharena \\ fjorm & gunnthra // loki

   you had always had a fascination with the stars. they were the one thing constant in both your world and in askr -- and despite the different constellations, you could always look up at the maps in the sky and make up stories for the different shapes you would pick out. of course, alfonse would tell you what each constellation meant, but you found the stories in your head were much more interesting then the actual explanation for them.

   the one story you loved, though, was the story of the goddess of night, celeste. doomed to be forever separated from her lover, the goddess of the daytime, she weeps every night, the tears falling from her face and creating the beautiful formations in the sky to lead other lovers safely home, so they don’t suffer the same fate. it was oddly beautiful, in a way most tragedies are. 

   you’re thankful for your love of the night, as it let you meet her.

   just as the goddesses tears light the night, so does she as she falls to the earth, hurtling towards it like a comet. you quickly jump up, going to help the girl who’s passed out inside of a crater on the ground. 

   “are you okay?” you ask, though the answer is fairly obvious. she just fell from the sky, of course she wasn’t alright. the girl, thankfully, can stand, and she gets up weakly, looking around as if in a daze.

   “where am i?” she asks, holding her head, her voice barely a whisper. her clothes are torn, and she holds her arms close to her chest, her breath visible because of the cold. “w-who are you?” she scrunches her face up, and limps towards you. you lunge forward and grab her arms, making sure she’s fit to stand, inspecting her face closely. 

   you can tell she’s a bit younger than you, maybe by a few years, but there are dark circles under her eyes. her bright red hair is cut at her chin, [eye color] eyes dull and devoid of warmth. 

   “i’m [name], i’m the tactician and summoner of the army of askr... i could ask the same to you... what is your name?” she grits her teeth, looking to the left as if trying to rack her own brain of thoughts, but ultimately finds nothing. she grips onto you as if trying to steady whatever was going on in her mind. you wrap an arm around her shoulder, taking out breidablik and summoning a portal back to the castle.

   “i-i’m not sure... i don’t remember anything.” you look at her, searching her eyes and seeing nothing but sincerity. you smile softly, making a stupid decision to trust this stranger who could easily kill you. studying the freckles on her face, you realize that some look like your favorite constellation.

   “can i call you celeste?”

   celeste quickly falls asleep under the care of the healers working the night shift, who just happened to be mist and sakura. they assured you that she would be fine in the morning, she only had a few scrapes and a dislocated ankle (nothing a stave couldn’t fix), so you could turn in for the night. despite their words, though, you couldn’t bring yourself to fall asleep when you had so many questions about this girl. so, you resign yourself to sitting by the door, waiting for her to wake up.

   it’d been a few weeks since celeste crash landed in askr. she still didn’t have her memories back, but was quickly becoming very attached to you. not that you minded, she was a total sweetheart who loved animals viewed the world with wide-eyed optimism. she even got herself a pegasus and started training to become a pegasus knight, with some help from caeda. she seemed to be naturally talented with a lance. (you suspected that she might’ve been a pegasus knight before she lost her memories, but nothing was certain). 

   “isn’t she adorable?” you ask, watching her train from afar. michalis lowers his head, crossing his arms. “she’s growing into such a strong young woman already, despite only being here for week. i wish i had resolve like that.” you let out an airy laugh, the macedonian king seemingly listening to you, but his eyes focused straight ahead.

   “children should not be utilized on the battlefield.” he says, eyes flickering down to look at you, “leave the fighting to the strong ones.” you hum, opening the small journal in your pocket where you keep notes on the units.

   “you’re right,” you reply, flipping to a page where you had kept notes on michalis. “children have to grow up far too fast here, i mean, kana and sanaki are barely even teenagers and yet they have to fight. it’s cruel.” you doodle yet another drawing of the red-haired wyvern rider, this time smiling and happy with little flowers surrounding him. he takes notice, and doesn’t seem too amused, but says nothing of it. “did you train as a child, too?” michalis merely nods, obviously not wanting to share that part of him with you just yet. you knew not to press him, as he opened up to you little by little, and pestering only made him close up more. 

   “[name]!” you hear celeste call, bounding over to the two of you, with a grin stretching from ear to ear. she jumps into your arms, heaving trying to catch her breath, but still beaming nonetheless. 

   “i’m getting so much better! miss caeda is SUCH a good teacher! i think i’m almost ready to be on the front lines, what do you say, mother?” she says, so excited that the words come so fast you can hardly keep up.

   “i don’t think you’re ready qu-- wait, i’m sorry, what did you just call me?” you question, and see michalis shift beside you. the first thing that comes to your mind is that this is probably just a slip up, like calling a teacher ‘mom’ on accident, but she just smiles in response, confident in her words.

   “nope! as i was training, i think some of my memories came back to me!” she’s practically bouncing, shifting from heel to heel with nervous energy. “i saw a glimpse of you helping me get over my fear of wyverns, telling me something about how you used to fear them, then you met someone who helped you get over that fear!” she giggles, and you feel your heart hammer in your chest. you knew exactly who she was talking about, but your feelings for him weren’t up in the air yet. you glance at him, and his frown deepens, as he turns on a heel and leaves. your heart is telling you to follow him, but you couldn’t leave your daughter hanging. 

   forcing a nervous smile, you say: “please, tell me more.”

   word travels fast around the castle, the news of celeste being your daughter being the topic of everyone’s conversations. chrom had offered you a few words of advice, as he was one of the few people who could relate to your situation, and you were grateful for that.

   though, the speculations about who was the baby’s other parent were rampant as well. since celeste had red hair, it seemed every hero with a streak of red in their hair was rumored to be your “future spouse”. some heroes didn’t mind, such as the fearsome tactician saias and the candy thief gaius, but others, minerva, anna, and cordelia, quickly shot down these rumors, as though they did enjoy the summoner’s company, it was merely a platonic relationship between you two. 

   deep down, you knew who it was. it couldn’t be anyone else, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t seem to tell him. it’s only when celeste falls off her pegasus and bumps her head that she remembers herself.

   “it’s michalis!” she laughs, almost maniacally. “my father is michalis! we have to tell him at-- ouch.” celeste winces, rubbing her head. you tell the girl to go to the healers while you took care of the matter yourself, (half because you didn’t know how he would react, and it would kill you if he denied her), and she acquiesces.

   “michalis?” you knock on his door, anxiety swelling with each tap you make. you hear him respond with a quiet yes. “may i come in?” he doesn’t answer, and you know that means you can. 

   “what is it?” he responds sharply, not even bothering to look up at you as he scans through some war book at his desk. you clench your jaw, not knowing how to bring up the topic at hand. usually, you always knew what to say, but words often failed you when you needed them most. letting out a deep breath, you decide that it’s now or never.

   “it’s about celeste, you--” he cuts you off mid-sentence.

   “if it’s about who her father is, i couldn’t care less.” his voice is icy in a way you hadn’t heard since when you first met him. 

   “no, just--”

   “oh, you haven’t found out yet? the list must be very long considering that you flirt with half of the army.” your eyes water, gods, he always knew just the right words to say to make someone hurt, you just never thought it would be directed at you. he didn’t mean it, your brain told you, he’s just hurt and trying to push you away like he does with everyone else, but it still stings that he would think of you that way. you hadn’t flirted with anyone but him for the longest while, he was just too much of a recluse to notice. it’s then he finally glances at you, noticing that you’re holding back tears. 

   “you’re such a dastard michalis.” you curse, tears flowing down your cheeks freely, “i was coming here to tell you that you’re her father.” you want to yell at him, want to make him hurt as much as he made you hurt, but you can’t bring yourself to. instead, you add in a small voice: “i should’ve listened to minerva about you.” and then you leave, slamming the door behind you.

   michalis is left with the same feeling that he had after using his sister, maria for a bargaining chip. complete and utter disgust with himself.

   “you!” celeste yells, flying her pegasus in front of michalis to block his path. she quickly dismounts, standing in front of him defiantly, chest puffed out and a stubborn expression on her face. even in the darkness, he could see the resemblances to you, as you always made when he would first tell you to leave him alone. “you made my mother cry! why would you do that you jerk!” despite the fierceness in her voice, her eyes look scared.

   “i know,” he responds, voice barely above a whisper. “where do you think i was going, child?” 

   “i don’t think she even wants to see you!” celeste replies, her pegasus glaring at him behind her. despite her words, he continues across the courtyard to the hall where your room was. “hey! are you even listening to me!” she follows quickly, the only noise besides their voices being the soft flap of her pegasus’s wings.

   “i don’t care, i need to right my wrongs.” he answers, ignoring her words of warning. of course you wouldn’t want to see him, he was utterly rude to the only person who cared enough to be nice to him despite his cold demeanor (save maria), but he had to see you. what he did to his family was unforgivable, and that damage could never be repaired, but he could mend relations with you, his one beam of warmth in his otherwise frigid world. 

   “i don’t know what you were like in my world, but...” she trails off, “i don’t want you to hurt my mother because you don’t want me.” he’s stunned into silence, the small girl looking towards the ground, eyes watering and sniffling as if to hold back a sob. michalis mentally curses, wondering what good deed he did in some previous life to warrant him this lucky of a hand, because he was sure that he’s done nothing good in his life to deserve the love of not only you, but of this angel, celeste, whom he’s never shown kindness to in the months she’s been here. he wishes he was maria, or even minerva who, though blunt, was much kinder than he. 

   “you think i do not want you?” he says, clearing his throat, trying for once to say what was truly in his heart. “nothing could be further from the truth.” celeste breaks, freely sobbing as she lunges at michalis, clinging to his midsection. 

   “oh father!” she says inbetween sobs, “i love you!” he’s frozen in place, not used to this type of affection except from maria. he puts a tentative hand on the top of her head, slowly patting her hair.

   “yes. now, let’s go find your mother.” celeste quickly reels back, quickly wiping her face off and forcing a smile. 

   “yes! but don’t think you’re off the hook just yet!” she giggles, eyes puffy and red, “i’m still mad at you!”