#he graduated from here or somethin and he wants me to be a wonder too

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

mentor!Kishibe

mentor!Kishibe is very aware of your secret attraction towards him. Has to use every ounce of his will to convince himself that its onesided, just a young woman with a crush. But he'd have to be blind not to notice the subtle shift from the student/teacher vibe between y'all two when you finally complete his extensive training. It's been 3 years. Granted he deemed you at peak less than a year in, and now he had nothing left to teach you. Knows it's already incredibly suspicious and selfish keepin you from your aspirations this long. Still.. "Sure you don't wanna go private?" Kishibe takes a swig from his flask, tired eyes trained on the newest addition to the eerily desolate cemetery. "Tsk. Don't ask somethin you have no intention of doin yourself. Real funny way of askin me to stay.." You get no reply. The tense silence stretches on, so many words on the tip of his tongue. He eventually settles with a dry "Then congratulations, kid: It's graduation day." You frown, dreading this moment almost as much as the thought of never finding the gun devil. Feels just as despairing as you thought it would. Staring at the side of his handsome downcast face, admiring the crinkle round his eye. "Will you miss me?" Kishibe solemn eyes finally meets your imploring gaze, not needing even a second to think about your question. Uses the back of his hand to gently sweep your braids off your shoulder as he offers you a small forced smile. "Course, sweetheart. You already know.." Your heart skips a beat to the simple touch and new pet name. Know what? But then Kishibe's droppin his hand. Turns on his heel, stridin to the exit without another word. "Goodbye.." The strong gusts of wind the only witness to your anguished whisper.

mentor!Kishibe makes it a point to keep his distance from you. Even with workin in the same sector, its a whole year before you see him again. Makima finally wore em down into comin out to eat with a few fellow hunters. "Two minutes. Then we're done here." She only smiles at him, watchin as he sits stiff refusing to touch his plate of food. Kishibe ignores the flow of conversation, his mind wondering what you were up to for the evening. Imagine his surprise when he sees your pretty ass walk through the door, his insides twisting and knotting at the sight of you. Uniform pants huggin your shapely frame; white shirts sleeves rolled up to the elbows, first couple buttons undone and givin him the tiniest peak at your mouth watering cleavage. So fuckin gorgeous to Kishibe. Almost exactly how he'd last seen you. Your face is different thought.. Just as beautiful but he knows that gaunt look only too well. Your hairs changed too, now in y/h/c wavy layered tresses down your back. There's nothing on planet earth that can get either of you to unlock eyes as you freeze on the spot. You weren't sure when you'd see him again; if his petty ass would continue to dodge you till the end of time. But inna instant, it's like just the two of you exist. Nothing else in the world matters but how much you want and miss him.. Till you remember the cruel and sudden way he chose to snatch himself from your life, leaving you heartbroken. And more lonely than necessary, especially considering the profession. The thought has you spinnin on the spot and storming from the restaurant. Makima digs her elbow into Kishibe's side. "I'm not saying fall in love. But find a piece of happiness for yourself, even if you believe it to be fleeting." He doesn't say a word. Knows right away her sneaky ass had somethin to do with this crap. Puttin on his shoes and coat, he heads out. Doesnt grace a single soul at the the table with a goodbye, leaving for home with a scowl and a dark cloud over his head. Kishibe knew comin to this shit show was a fuckin mistake.

mentor!Kishibe is so fuckin stubborn that he goes another 6 months without you in his life before almost goin off the deep end. The gaping hole in his already miserable existence seems to physical weaken him. Kishibe can't eat, think or fuckin sleep anymore. Drinks more and focuses less on his goals at work, even skippin out some days to secretly pop up to check on you. But you never see him, even when you feel a pair of unknown eyes on you every now and again. He continues to watch from afar when you patrol, missin the way you'd accompany him on his. Longing to hear your sweet giggles when he'd say something dark or give you a taste of that dry humor. The only woman that got him to open up bout what makes him drown his sorrows in liquor. And even indulge less. Needs that connection with you again. He's startin to care less and less how hes too old, too much of a brute that might be incapable of giving what you need. And in fully recognizing that.. Kishibe can't be without you much longer. The only semblance of peace is late at night when he gives in to the madness that haunts him, pumpin at his angry agitated cock while you consume his mind. "Ohhh fuck, y/nnn.. Touch me, sweetheart.." Head dipped back into his pillow, moaning low imagining the his grip to be the warm wet clutch of your tight lil puss. Perspiration drippin down his nude frame, muscles spasming from how good it feels. "Tell me you want me.." Drivin him insane rememberin every scar, dimple, beauty mark peekin from your formal public safety uniform. "Want you so bad, pretty girl." Wish he could listen to how you pant after a strenuous session, tiny huffs akin to what he thinks you sound like if he sucked at your clit. "Bet you like that, huh?" Fucks his fist quicker to the thought, strokes awkward from how infrequently he masturbates. How sensitive would you be? Would you moan or scream? Buck and hump against his face, grind his lips for maximum pleasure? "Thats it. Take what you need greedy girl." Or maybe run from it. Yank at his short hair while tryin to escape, his name stuttering out on broken moans and pleas for reprieve as he forces you to cum. "Y/nnn!" Kishibe unloads allover his fist to the conjured imagery. Sputtering your name over and over as his nut spurts thickly in the air, splattering his muscled thighs audibly.

mentor!Kishibe knows things have gone all the way left when liquor stops helping to numb the pain of your abscence. Shows up to your spot in the middle of the night with a crazed look in his eye, bangin on your door like he was outta his damn mind. "What do you want Kishibe?" You snap after eyeing him through the peephole, swinging open your front door. Even through your outrage, you're immediately aware of the deep dark circles underneath his eyes. Or the prominent wrinkles in his suit jacket and pants, but most importantly the exclusion of that dank smell of whiskey. Your stunned he isn't stone cold drunk. But his attention is on the fact you're only in an oversized black tee, hair inna a cute messy bun. Smooth brown legs and pert nipple prints on display for his greedy gaze. Doesn't have very high hopes with hidin how his dick starts to chub, trying his damnest not to stare at the exposed skin. "Y/n, sweet girl.. Missed you so fuckin much. I'm so sor-" Kishibe steps a foot forward into your home, arms outstretched to embrace you but you sidestep him, smackin away his hands. "Fuckin kidding me right?" He's never touched you unless you guys were training, but back then you had always hoped for it. Dreamed of it. Even now your body yearns for him to hold you, caress you.. To fuck you. Traitorous pussy started to moisten, nipples stiffening the moment you opened the door. But you're fuckin hurt! "Y/n-" "What?! Thought you could ghost me then slide through for a quick fuck?" Your tone makes his heart clench. Kishibe can't believe you think that's what you mean to him. His face falls a bit and he drops his arms. "No, never. I missed you so mu-" "You said that already, Kish." Another interruption paired with a severe eye roll. "Babygirl, hear me out. You have every right to kick my ass and send me off. I'm sor-" "Yeah, you said that already too. Either tell me why you left me or get the fuck out." He takes a deep breath before puttin his heart on the line for the first time in his life. "I'ma fool, y/n. An old fool that had no intention of ever fallin in love. Not with the life we lead. You know as well as I that only swift violent death awaits all of us. But then I met you." Kishibe reaches for you again and but this time you allow him to link fingers, his words sinkin deep; they were very true. "Mourning hurts worse the more you care. I didn't want that for you. Just wanna protect you sweetheart. Even from myself. You mean everything to me and I dont deserve you.. What if i can't make you happy?" You mull over his words for a second. "So you denied me my dick, which woulda made me estatic by the fuckin way, all in the name of protectin me from grieving?" You clarify in disbelief. He gives you a short nod, cock twitchin at your admission. "Fuckin stupid, Kish. Everyone at work can see you're all i need to be happy. And we all die! No matter the jobs we pursue. What's wrong with enjoying each other till then?" You ask, palming up his abs to rest your hands on his chest. Wow. He never thought of it like that. Such a intelligent girl, but he always knew it. Though he tells you anyway. "When you become smarter than me, babygirl?" Kishibe asks, tuggin you against his well defined frame. Arms wrapping around you tight, dippin down to massage your backside as he noses up your neck, inhaling your fresh, feminine scent. "Haven't I always been?" You hug around his neck as he hums in agreement at your throat, tiltin your head to offer him more access. The need for his cock to mold your desperate cunt to the shape of him is overpowering when you feel it press firm against you. "Come in, Kishibe. Need you so much. Don't make me wait anymore." Connecting your lips to his, moaning when he passionately reciprocates as you yank him inside by his the collar of his shirt.

mentor!Kishibe hasn't had the luxury to relieve himself in weeks; can't even remember the last time he's gotten do it with someone other than himself. So he's absolutely unprepared when you unzip his slacks, push him to the bed, turn and hastily sit on his dick. "Holy shit, baby girl!" His fingers dig into your hips bruisingly, trying to lift you off his hypersensitive leaky length. Soft heat drenchin him, erratic flutter of your walls buildin that familiar pulsing swirl in his gut. Feels pathetic that he's already fighting back nuttin inside your perfect lil snatch. Mind reeling at finally gettin a taste of your bomb ass coochie, and the fact you aint have no panties on when you scolded him at your front door earlier. "Pussys too tight, worlds best cock sleeve baby. Mmm.. Oh shit- get up! Lemme breathe honey. Been too fuckin long, dont wanna buss yet." But you fight against his attempts to unsheathe himself, moanin as his words replay in your head. Leanin back into his strong chest as his scent clouds your mind, reachin back to grip tight at his freshly cut soft blonde locks. "Nooo, Kish! Don't make me wait anymore. N-need it so bad. 'S so big, feels so good inside me. Don't make me stop, pleeease. Gimme my dick, baby. Waited long enough right? Waited like a good girl?" Kishibe clenches his gut tight, noddin his head swiftly. Your filthy pleas, how you frantically mouth and suck on his neck, pullin his short hair hard, makin his fat balls buzz pleasantly. "Yes, yes. Ughnn fuh-uck.. Such a good girl, my best girl.. So please sweetheart, slow the fuck down less you want this shit to be over with already." He's sits tense, so fuckin on edge tryin not cum, not even sure you hear anything after 'good girl'. "Y/n?" "Kishibeee.." Your immediate dazed moan back to him doesnt sound promising on followin orders. Fuck! He assumes even with bitin off more than your lil puss can chew, you've been plottin all this time to take matters into your own hands. Always the clever girl. And so goddamn impatient. "Oh fuck, y/nnn.. Gonna give you what you want, just w-wait‐ wait a second honey!" Fuck that shit. "No." You huff, makin his pretty eyes narrow at your new found disobedience. "Little girl, stop. Right now. Dont make me- haaah!" Threat cut short when you grind and roll your hips into his before leanin on his knees to tentatively bounce on his dick. "Ohmygod! Knew you'd fuck me so good. Ohfuuuck! Waited too long for this good dick. So worth it, so so worth it!" You keen, tossin your head back at him diggin you out, body tremblin how he stretches your delicate walls round his thick girth more than any man ever had.

Kishibe eyes widen at your antics, grip at your hips useless as you keep a tight hold of the reins and fuck him a bit quicker. Tits jigglin under your tee, clit throbbin for attention as you use his dick to knock into that ridged pleasure button inside you. "Fuck me, Kishi! Show me how much you missed me. Yeees, yes- right there!" The intense sensation rapidly formin in the depths of your tummy is frighteningly mind numbing but you chase it anyway. Fuckin him vigorously, nails diggin into his knees as you both near whats sure to be orgasms for the history books. "Shiiit! Gonna make me buss so fuckin h-hard, honey.." "Then buss for me. Mmm. Show me what I've been missin. Wanna feel your nut splash inside, handsome." No womans ever talked to or fucked him like this before. Its him that usually mounts his victims till they're stupid from his curved cock. But now he can hardly take the snug hug your hole gives his dick. Unable to stop his eyes from rollin back in his skull when you focus on humpin the wide mushroom tip, swiveling your hips sensually as you ride your mans dick. His fingers slip from your hips and Kishibe falls back against the bed limply, eyes blurry with tears at the sensation of you fuckin him so thoroughly. "F-fuck honey. Thats it. Put that pussy on Daddy." He slurs, eyes shut tight, oblivious to the dark kink he keeps buried deep down finally breakin free. "Make me nut in that pretty lil pussy, baby. Show Daddy how he's the only one that can cum inside." His chest heaves as he pants out quick labored grunts from the way you pop your plushy ass on him up and down fast as you can, slammin your lil cunt on him tirelessly; the burn in your thighs the last thing on your mind. "Yes, Daddy! Gimme it, earned my nut huh? Don't wanna wait for it anymore!" You hiccup, beggin for his load in high pitched cries as he begins to buck his hips widly. "H-here it is, sweet girl. Nuts all for you.. Ahhh fuck! Take it, honey. Take it.." Glidin to the base of his swollen shaft repeatedly, literally milking the sperm from his poundin dick. Gooey white spurts layer your walls, coating your insides thickly with his essence. His hips unintentionally lift from the bed to chase your pussy, outta sync from your rythym, random hits to your gspot makin you seize in his lap. "Kish, Kishi- Kishibeee!" Juices gush and pool on his work pants as you cum enthusiastically, clumsily rotatin your hips, usin his poor cock to abuse your puffy hole even when Kishibe stiffens from the overstimulation. "L-little girl." He warns you but you ignore him, wordless moans slippin through your bare lips as you enjoy him like its the last time. The man has to gather all the strength he has left to snatch you off his dick and flip you onto the bed, pastel blue covers cool against your back. He hovers above you, sticky girth rigid against your slick pussy lips. "Bad fuckin girl. Doin whatever you want with my dick." Kishibe snarls against your mouth, kissing you hungrily, both of you still pantin for air. His words make you pout, releasin a small whimper when he pulls away, floppin next to you and cuddling into your side. "My dick, Kishibe. Plus.. Thought you said I was good." He snorts at your whine. "Any man would say that when you're force fuckin the nut out me the way you did, y/n." You bust out laughin at his deceitful trickery, your infectious giggles makin him follow suit. "That right.. Daddy? Didn't know you were into that. Think we got some catchin up to do.." Kishibe groans when you slip a hand to squeeze lightly at his sensitive slowly softening cock, smilin into his shoulder when it twitches with interest. He knows he'll never hear the end of this one and really wishes your perfect lil cunt didn't get him so fuckin pussy drunk. But really, Kishibe's finally happy; hopesand prays his lil slice of happiness won't be cut short..

[landofzero-archive]

Ougonten - Account of the Dragon's Ascension 1

Writer: Kanata Haruka

Season: Winter

(Location: Starmony Dorms Common Area)

Mika: Heave-ho…… Fuu…… Thanks a bunch, Shiratori-kun. Let’s take a break here fer now. 

Aira: We should. The unexpectedly large luggage wore me out.

Mika: Sorry fer draggin’ ya into this.

I was plannin’ on takin’ home some of my personal stuff from the handicraft club before I graduated, but it turned out to be more luggage than I expected.

Aira: No no, I had free time too. Actually, it was a feast for the eyes to see the treasured works of art belonging to Kagehira-senpai!

Also, while we were returning together, I got to hear a lot of behind the scenes stories about Machina.

As an idol otaku, it was a time of ultimate bliss♪ I’m super happy!

Mika: I appreciate ya sayin’ that. I feel bad that I can’t do anythin’ to thank ya fer yer help though……

Aira: Being able to talk about Machina with Kagehira-senpai is more than enough thanks!

Even thinking back on it now, I’m overwhelmed by that fantastic universe.

Mika: Ahaha, don’t praise me too much. Since it’s about me, I might get too excited over it.

Aira: That can’t be! From my point of view, I can’t say enough about it!

I got it! The Machina live show was good, but the show before that, “Test World,” was also amazing!

Mika: Eh!? Sh-Shiratori-kun, how do ya know about Test World!?

No one would know about that unless they were logged into that virtual world.

Aira: Ah, I didn’t see it directly! I saw the video.

Someone recorded a video of what happened in Test World and posted it on SNS.

I was so disappointed when I saw that video. I wondered why I couldn’t have gotten to see Valkyrie’s bravery with my own eyes.

Itsuki-senpai and Kagehira-senpai’s appearance at that time…… Even when I remember it, I can’t help but sigh as my tears fell.

The sight of you two looking down on everyone from above and bringing the end of the world was truly divine!

The highlight was the innocence of Kagehira-senpai, when you made money rain like hot water saying, “Art is an explosion~!”

MIka: I-It’s spread to that extent!?

Aira: Yep! I watched that scene so much I thought I was going to pierce a hole into my phone!

Mika: Don’t look at me like that! That’s where I think I got too carried away!

Uuu…… I guess I did too much by throwin’ away the money. That’s usually a punishment.

Aira: No no, I think it was a good thing!

I loved Kagehira-senpai in that scene so much that I couldn’t help but share my thoughts about it on SNS.

Kagehira-senpai’s appearance at that time, the sparkling money was like—

Mitsuru: (Whispering) Mika-ni~chan should have entered this room. I’ll sneak inside and investigate……

Mika: Ah, that’s Mitsuru-kun ain’t it. Welcome home~. What’s goin’ on, sneakin’ around like that?

Mitsuru: Uwah!? Mika-ni~chan was still in front of the door!?

Aira: Ah, sorry! Now that I think about it, we were standing in front of the door talking for a long while.

Mika: Ngah~ we’re gettin in the way of people comin’ in later. Sorry for scarin’ ya, Mitsuru-kun.

Mitsuru: I-it’s okay!! I’m going back to my room now, so Mika-ni~chan and the others can enjoy chatting~!

Mika: Eh, Mitsuru-kun!?

…… He left. Since he came into the room, I assume he had somethin’ to do but…

Did I say somethin’ to annoy Mitsuru-kun?

Aira: Hmm~mm…… Maybe he was just too surprised?

Anyway, it’s not a good idea to just stand around and talk like this. We shouldn’t surprise anyone coming in like Tenma-senpai again.

Mika: Alright. I don’t know if I can drag this luggage to my room.

Aira: That’s true…… But first, let’s have some tea and take a break. It’s never too late to carry your luggage.

Besides, I want to chat with Kagehira-senpai a bit more!

Mika: Haah. If you're serious about it, let’s make some hot tea first♪

(Location: Starmony Dorms Hallway (1F))

Mitsuru: Fuu…… That was dangerous. I almost got caught by Mika-ni~chan.

But with this I was able to learn more about Mika-ni~chan again! I’ll make a note of it right away.

“Mika-ni~chan was a good god who enjoyed standing and talking with his friends,” and…

Hmm…… It seems like this isn’t enough after all~!

A~lright, let’s find more and more divine aspects of Mika-ni~chan!

Directory | Next

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Performance Event - Winter Troupe's Tenth Play: Nomadic Bartender - Episode 2

Guy: Haah, haah… are we there yet?

Guy’s father: We’re here.

Guy: Oh, I can see the city clearly from up here!

Guy’s father: We’re up high, aren’t we?

Guy: But this place is full of weeds…

Guy’s father: Hm? You want to eat meat?

Guy: No! The place is full of weeds! 

Guy’s father: Ah, ahaha, I see. That’s because not many people come up here. This is Dad’s secret place.

Guy’s father: Hmm, it should be coming soon.

Guy: ?

[Airplane flying by]

Guy: Woah!!

Guy’s father: Big, isn’t it?

Guy: Yeah! It’s much, much bigger than this plastic model!

Guy’s father: This place is close to the airport. The real deal is much, much bigger, though.

Guy: That sounds so cool. I wanna get on one too.

Guy’s father: Let’s make a promise to get on a plane together one day and visit the country your mom was born in.

Guy: When’s one day? Next summer vacation?

Guy’s father: Hmm, no. I think that might be a little impossible.

Guy’s father: Maybe if I save up money until you graduate elementary school, I’ll be able to do something…

Guy: Then, can we come up here and see a plane again?

Guy’s father: Yeah. We can come and see one together again. It’s a promise.

-

Guy: …

Guy: (That was a dream about the past… Maybe it’s because I spoke to the charm yesterday.)

Guy: (It was a heartwarming memory… Thanks to the charm, I've finally remembered it.)

Guy: (I got interested in airplanes after being given a plastic model for my birthday, so my father took me to that place.)

Guy: (I wonder if a day will come when that promise will be fulfilled…)

Guy: (If it does, I hope the day he will watch me perform on stage come as well.)

-

[Door jingle]

Syu: Yo.

Guy: Welcome.

???: …

Guy: Is this who you were talking about?

Syu:  Yeah, this is Tooru-san, my father’s attendant.

Guy: Welcome, thank you for coming.

Tooru: ——

Syu: Somethin’ wrong?

Tooru: Ah, ahaha, no– I’m just a little nervous about being in a situation like this.

Tooru: I’ve actually been curious about this store for quite some time, but I never had the courage to go in. I’m glad you invited me.

Syu: Ohh, so you knew about it already.

Tooru: I was curious about the Zahran menu. Isn’t that pretty rare around these parts?

Guy: You’re right.

Syu: Now that you’re a prominent and successful director, I’m sure you get invited out for drinks a lot.

Tooru: Ahaha, it’s actually quite tough to shake off the habit of being stingy when you’ve had it since you were young.

Guy: You’re a director?

Tooru: Yes, I was an actor before Syu-san’s father picked me up, but I never really took off…

Tooru: I started getting more and more job requests while working as an assistant director.

Guy: (My father also didn’t have much success as an actor.)

Guy: (Come to think of it… Should my father still be alive, he would be around this man’s age… They might also have been active as actors at about the same time.)

Guy: … Meeting Otomiya’s father must have been a major turning point for you.

Tooru: Yes, it truly was. I suppose it is true that each person has a place that suits them best.

Guy: (I wonder if my father also had a place like that…)

Tooru: Do you like theater as well?

Guy: I’m actually an actor myself.

Tooru: Oh, is that so!

Syu: Our barkeep here will be playing a leading role in a play soon, so how about you go and see it?

Tooru: I would love to. What kind of theater company do you belong to?

Guy: Have you heard of MANKAI Company?

Tooru: ——

Tooru: … I have. How nostalgic. That’s a company with a long history.

Tooru: A long time ago… Not long after their debut, I went to watch one of their performances with my son.

Guy: ——

Guy: (He went with his son…? Could it be…)

Syu: That’s the first time I’ve heard of this. It’s my old company too, yanno.

Tooru: Now that I think about it, we’ve never talked about it. Might be because it wasn’t a Winter Troupe performance.

Syu: That so. Which performance was it, then?

Tooru: If I’m not mistaken, it was–

Guy: …

-

Tooru: Ahh, it’s gotten late. I have to get home before my family gets worried.

Tooru: This place is so comfortable, we lost track of time.

Syu: I know, right? Make sure you come again.

Tooru: If I find the courage to come by myself, that is. Is it alright with you if I come again?

Guy: You are always welcome.

-

Guy: …

Hisoka: … Guy, you’ve been wiping that glass for too long.

Guy: … That I have.

Hisoka: Did something happen? … You’ve been acting weird since Syu came.

Guy: … No, nothing happened. There’s no need to worry.

[Guy walks away]

Hisoka: …

-

Guy: …

Azuma: Reporting something again?

Guy: … Not exactly.

Azuma: Is that so?

Guy: …

Guy: (There are so many similarities between that man and my father… Could he really be him…?)

Guy: (I could ask for his last name and find out… No, he said he has a family.)

Guy: (If he has a son at home, that may have been the son he was talking about seeing MANKAI Company with.)

Guy: (But, it could also mean that he got remarried and started a new family after divorcing my mother…)

Guy: (If I were to announce that I’m his son, it could create trouble for him.)

Guy: (In all my time hoping I’d meet my father again, I never thought it would happen like this…)

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

NOTES:

(1) tooru's name 徹 can also be read as tetsu or kota, i went with tooru because it's the most common reading for a name. it could also be romanized as tohru, but i don't like how that looks as much. if his name is voiced in the main story and it turns out to be different i'll come back and fix this

[clothyume]

Ougonten: Registry of Dragons Part One

Registry of Dragons: Part One 

Winter 

Mika: Oof… Phew… Thanks a bunch, Shiratori-kun. Fer now let’s take a lil breather right here. 

Aira: Good idea. This luggage is surprisingly big so I’m a little tired. 

Mika: Sorry, I don’t mean t’ trouble ya like this. 

I thought I could take home all ma personal belongings from the handicrafts club before I graduate, but it’s a lot more than I expected. 

Aira: No it's okay, I have some free time anyway. Rather, Kagehira-senpai’s treasured works of art really are a sight to see! 

Besides, since we came back together I got to hear a lot about the inside story of “Machina”. 

For an idol otaku, I couldn’t have been happier♪ I’m completely satisfied! 

Mika: I feel better when ya say stuff like that. I feel bad that I can’t do anythin’ t’ thank ya fer helping me out though… 

Aira: I could talk to Kagehira-senpai about “Machina”, I’ve already received more than enough thanks! 

I’m still overwhelmed just remembering that wonderful universe… 

Mika: Ahaha.Don’t praise me so much. I feel like yer gettin’ carried away, especially since it’s about me. 

Aira: No way! From my point of view, I can’t say enough. 

That’s right! The “Machina” live was great, but the “test world” before that was just as amazing. 

Mika: Eh!? S-Shiratori-kun, Ya know about the “test world”!?

It’s just that, ya shouldn’t know unless ya were logged into the virtual world. 

Aira: Ah, I didn’t see it firsthand! I saw a video. 

Someone who recorded the event posted it via SNS. 

I was so frustrated when I found the video. I wondered why I couldn’t watch Valkyrie’s heroic image firsthand. 

Itsuki-senpai and Kagehira-senpai’s image at the time… Even remembering it now I can’t help but start to cry.

The two of you were truly like Gods, looking down on everyone from the heavens to stop the end of the world! 

Kagehira-senpai’s innocence of saying “Art is an explosion!” While making money rain down like water was another highlight! 

Mika: I-It’s gone viral!? 

Aira: Yep! I watched it so much I thought I was gonna burn a hole in my smartphone! 

Mika: Don’t look at me like that! I think yer really gettin’ carried away there! 

Uh… I guess I really overdid it by scatterin’ that money. This is my usual punishment. 

Aira: No way, really it was a good thing, wasn't it? 

I love Kagehira-senpai in that scene so much, I couldn’t help but share my thoughts on SNS. 

Kagehira-senpai’s image at the time was really sparkling, like money– 

Mitsuru: (Tiny voice) Mikanii-chan should be in this room. I’ll sneak in and investigate… 

Mika: Ah, Mitsuru-kun. Welcome back~ What’re ya doin’ sneakin’ around? 

Mitsuru: Uwah!? Mikanii-chan, were you still in the doorway? 

Aira: Ah, sorry! Come to think of it, we've been chatting in the doorway this whole time. 

Mika: Nnah~ We’re gettin’ in the way of people who wanna come in later. Sorry, Mitsuru-kun. Ya surprised me. 

Mitsuru: I-It’s fine! I’m going back to my own room now, so you two just have fun chatting here~!  

Mika: Eh, Mitsuru-kun!? 

…He’s already gone. He came t’ this room, so I wonder if he had some kinda business t’ take care of. 

Maybe I said somethin’ t’ hurt Mitsuru-kun’s feelin’s 

Aira: Hmm… Didn’t he seem a bit too jumpy? 

In any case, it’s not good for us to keep standing here. We’re gonna end up jumpscaring anyone else who wants to come in, just like Tenma-senpai. 

Mika: Yup. And I gotta bring all this luggage up to ma own room. 

Aira: That’s right… But first, let’s relax a little and have some tea. Even after that it won’t be too late to carry your luggage. 

Besides, I wanna talk to Kagehira-senpai a little more! 

Mika: Right. In that case let’s get some nice hot tea brewin’♪

Mitsuru: Phew… That was close. I almost got caught by Mikanii-chan. 

But, I still got to know more about Mikanii-chan! I better jot this down real quick. 

“Mikanii-chan was a nice God who liked to stand and talk with his friends” 

Hmm… I guess this alone still isn't enough~ 

Al~right. I’ll find out even more about Mikanii-chan’s Godly qualities! 

[twilightmalachite]

Love Letter - On and off 4

Author: Umeda Chitose

Characters: Rei, Rinne

Translator: Mika Enstars

"…? Is that a box o’ chocolates ya have there, Rei-chan?"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Yumenosaki Connecting Corridor

Yumenosaki Academy, on the day of Chocolat Fes…

Rei: This sweet and harmonious atmosphere that floats through the entirety of Yumenosaki Academy… How nostalgic.

The liveliness of the whole school can be felt through the aroma of the chocolate. I, too, feel somewhat rejuvenated as well~. ♪

Rinne: There's gotta somethin’ like a guide map somewhere in this school…

Looks like I’m at some passageway right now, so to get to the stage grounds, I gotta…

Rei: (Oya, that person walking in over there…)

O~i, why, it’s Amagi-kun~.

Rinne: Ah? Now if it ain’t UNDEAD's Rei-chan! I always see ya at the strangest places.

Rei: Isn’t that my line?

As a graduate of Yumenosaki Academy, I’ve come to watch my valiant juniors. How about you, Amagi-kun? Is there an idol you’ve come to see?

Rinne: Well, y’know. I wanted to take the opportunity to walk ‘around the academy a bit, but my path kept gettin’ blocked off here and there. Guess you could say I ended up losin’ my way…

Rei: Yumenosaki Academy is rather large. Tenshouin-kun’s capital investments in facilities has led to the expansion and renovation of various parts of the school.

Paths are blocked off as a way to strengthen security. Even parents won’t be able to sneak their way inside. ♪

Rinne: …? Is that a box o’ chocolates ya have there, Rei-chan?

I heard ya can’t get any at Chocolat Fes, unless you go and watch a live.

Rei: Ah, this is a gift I received personally from my beloved child. As thanks for something as of late, and as a Valentine’s gift. ♪

Lookie, he even got me a priority viewing ticket for the Knights show, saying “it's a Sakuma-senpai special”~!

As always, Hinata-kun knows exactly what’ll make me happy. He has great taste. ♪

Rinne: From Hina… and as thanks for somethin’ recent…?

Rei: There’s no need for you to wonder. Mayhaps you’ve gotten a thank-you gift from Yuuta-kun, much like how I got one from Hinata-kun, Amagi-kun?

Like that paper bag you’re holding right there, for instance…♪

Rinne: Ah-ha, now it all makes sense. Yuta-kun had mentioned that Hina had gotten himself a powerful trainer…

Could it have been you, Rei-chan?

Though I thought they weren’t supposed to reveal any details ‘bout each other’s trainin’. How’d ya somehow know ‘bout Yuta and I?

Rei: Ku ku ku. I just happened to spot it, by complete and utter chance. ♪

Rinne: By chance, eh…?

Though… I doubt that my present has anythin’ as luxurious as a priority viewing ticket in it.

Rei: Well, you won’t know until you see for yourself. Why not open it now?

Rinne: It’s pretty light-weight, I’m sure it’s probs just some appropriate sweet… Hmm?

This is…

Rei: Would you look at that. It’s a rice cracker, covered completely in red.

Rinne: With more and more shichimi to make the tongue all tingly. With a red hot sting that’ll have me addicted…?

Rei: What was that, some incantation or something?

Rinne: It was somethin’ Yuta had said, like it was some jingle. It came out so readily too, guess this rice cracker’s some fave snack of his, or somethin’?

Well, it sure is red… Looks real spicy.

Rei: Yuuta-kun does like his spice. He’s not the best judge for which chocolates and other sweets taste good…

Perhaps he simply chose something he liked, something he himself thought was delicious.

Rinne: Even though he insisted he wouldn't let me have any…

Choosin’ his own favorite snack as a gift… Even Yuta’s got a cute side to him, huh...♪

Rei: Do enjoy them. If you give Yuuta-kun even just your thoughts, I’m sure he’ll be delighted.

Rinne: Enjoy ‘em, huh… Well, I guess he figured I’d be surprised how good they were if I tried it?

Rei: …Whoops. The time of the show drew pretty close as we stood around talking.

Let’s head on over there early so we can get a spot with a good view, Amagi-kun.

Rinne: I was thinkin’, ain’t it a bit early, still? But it is packed enough to where priority viewing tickets are needed, huh.

Rei: Mhm. Especially for Yumenosaki Academy’s stronger units—even with priority tickets, the performance will be crowded.

And 2wink is one of them. Many of their fans have already gathered for the show.

Rinne: Everyone’s comin��� together here to seek love from their idols.

Rei: That’s what Chocolat Fes is for.

…What kind of performance will 2wink show us, and what feelings will they convey?

What will the two gain through this event, what will they attain?

I too look forward to it, just as much as the rest of their fans.

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS - Chapter 52 - Part 1

BOOK ONE: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Samuel Moretti

It had been close to three weeks since Noah broke up with me.

He doesn't go to lunch anymore and half the time he doesn't show up for seventh period.

When he does, he'll have his hood up and head down.

Noah's gotten at least three detentions from Mrs. Snider, he could be suspended by his fifth.

I know I promised to give him space and the first few days I was fine with it.

It was hard but I managed

But as more days went by, I couldn't help but call and text him.

But like always, Noah didn't reply, I've stopped trying a week ago.

But my heart ached for me to see him, talk to him, hold him.

I wished I never agreed to keeping distance from him.

I wished I fought for Noah more that evening at the park but one positive thing came out of this heartbreak, I acquired a new friend.

Kaitlyn Montgomery.

I was over at her house 'I went over there a lot' and I try not to bring up Noah whenever I was with her but she asked me about us.

"Still haven't talked to Noah?"

She was painting my nails with a new gel kit she had bought off of Amazon.

She also told me she wanted to be a nail artist and have her own shop.

I could totally see her doing that, she was amazing at nails.

I sighed.

"No. I don't know. I've tried but he won't even give me the time of day. Yesterday? We walked past each other in the hallway and he didn't even look at me, Kaitlyn. We always at least glance at each other. It's like he's completely moved on."

"He hasn't, trust me."

Part of me did trust her because she had been hanging out with Noah more often 'Kaitlyn claimed she was Switzerland' and I wondered if he talked about me.

But I had grown to know Kaitlyn and her loyalty would always fall on Noah's side.

But she was the only person who understood what I was going through.

Kaitlyn continued.

"Noah once didn't speak to me for two weeks while we were dating and I was desperate for his attention. I texted him, called him, went to his house. Which was not fun but after the first week, I stopped trying and he came back to me. He apologized and I forgave him. Maybe I shouldn't have."

"Everyone told me I was better off but he was Noah. My Noah and I couldn't let him go. So, I understand you, Sam and if Noah loves you like I know he does, then once he's out of his rut he'll come back to you."

"But..." Kaitlyn spoke cautiously.

"Noah is always going to be like this. When he gets too overwhelmed, he bails and he bails in the worst ways. You have to decide if that's something you want to deal with because if you guys get back together, you'll get heartbroken again."

But I knew, even after hearing her warnings, I would rather get my heartbroken a hundred times if it meant Noah came back to me in the end.

*********

Kaitlyn's warnings erased from my mind the following day when I finally got the chance to talk to Noah.

My anxiety almost blew it for me.

I looked down at my pink sheet of paper instructing me to go see Miss Adams.

With a sigh, I walked into a small office and spotted Mrs Gomez which was?

I honestly had no clue what her role at that school was.

She looked up at me.

"Need somethin'?"

"Uh," I held up my slip of paper.

"I'm here to see Miss Adams."

"She's with a student right now but you can take a seat and wait for her," she told me.

"Okay, thanks," I said but when I took a seat in the chair right outside her door, my heart stopped.

I could barely make out what my social worker was saying but one name stood out and rang through my ears... Noah.

After looking around to make sure no one was watching me, I crept my ear closer to her door and listened to what she was saying.

"You were doing so well in your classes and now you're failing half of them? I get that towards the end of the school year kids tend to stop trying but you can't graduate without passing English 4 and Social Studies."

Noah's failing classes?

Noah didn't respond, at least not that I heard.

So Miss Adams carried on.

"For so long you were doing better and even motivated. What changed? I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"My whole life is kind of fucked up right now. So, sorry for not giving a shit about all these dumbass classes that I won't even remember a year from now. I have other things on my mind," Noah finally spoke and the sound of his voice made my heart pound and my stomach churn.

"I know you're going through a rough time right now but I also know that you're not going to want to repeat a year. I have some students in mind who can tutor you and help you get your grades back up. I've also talked to your English Teacher and she agreed to let you do an extra credit essay. You need to get at least a B on it to bring your grade up to a D. You have a 58 percent in Social Studies. You can get that up by actually doing homework and getting an A on your last two tests."

"Okay," Noah agreed with a sigh.

"I'll meet with a tutor and I'll write the essay."

"Perfect. I'll arrange the meetings and get back to you. I'm actually supposed to meet with another student right now but I'll check in with you next Friday to see how you're doing."

"Super," Noah said sarcastically.

Suddenly the door swung open and I stood up right as Noah stepped out of Miss Adams' office.

[absolutepokemontrash]

I come bearing a request! The Brothers with an MC who's really good at cooking and baking? Like, the stuff food blogs dream of. Master-level instagram pastries. Could compete with the chocolate guy if they put their mind to it.

👀 ooooo, I do love me some pastries-

(I know you have an *ahem* distaste for Lucifer, dear moot, so enjoy Lucifer acting like a bit of a dingus in his section!)

Lucifer

Oh, the human can cook. *insert asshole eyeroll here*. Great. Wonderful. Groundbreaking. That’s what’s got all his brothers acting like- what was that word Levi used? Simps? This human has turned six of the seven rulers of hell into a bunch of simps.

Sure, the human has near godlike cooking prowess. Sure, everyone looks forward to their day for cooking. And sure, everyone thinks the human’s pretty great.

Tsk, not him though. He’s a refined demon. Some silly food isn’t going to make him a lovesick fool… did he smell eclairs..?

Lucifer peered into the kitchen to see MC carefully taking a tray of eclairs out of the oven and letting them cool off on the counter. His favourite dessert… right there in front of him…

Due to not being a total moron, MC notices Lucifer and asks him what the hell he’s doing just standing ominously in the doorway. Lucifer makes up some bullshit excuse about reminding MC to do their homework and just leaves. Okay, game plan, he needs those fucking eclairs or he will spontaneously combust.

As he snuck into the kitchen that night, Lucifer took a moment to briefly wonder why he was creeping around his own house. He was the Avatar of Pride for pity’s sake! He could eat whatever he damn well pleased! Oh shit was someone coming- no? Okay, back to sneaking.

Lucifer crept into the kitchen, saw the eclairs, and all logic was thrown out the window. Time to eat!

“BEEL NO! NOT THE- Lucifer..?” “…” “…” “…you’re very talented, MC, do you mind making more of these?”

SOMEONE SNAP A PICTURE! THIS IS THE CLOSEST LUCIFER HAS GOTTEN TO BEGGING IN THE LAST THOUSAND YEARS!

Mammon

Ugh, stuck babysittin’ some dumb human, how lame…

As Mammon was throwing a “I’m broke and I’m stuck in a pact with a dumb human” pity party, the most heavenly smell entered his nostrils. Cooking… good cooking… was Barbatos visiting or somethin’? Nah, Lucifer woulda made a big fuss about gettin’ ready for Lord Diavolo. Huh, so what was goin’ on in the kitchen?

Huh? The human? The human can cook? Well damn, maybe this whole deal wouldn’t be so bad. Oi! MC! As payment for babysittin’ ‘em, he got to have an extra big share of- OW!

Did- did the human just hit him with a spoon?! Th-they can’t do that!

Apparently they fucking can. Mammon gets told to sit the fuck down and wait for the food like everyone else. He grumbles on the way to the dining room, but he can’t fully hide his excitement to try the food.

The food even looked pretty! How did they do that?! Magic. It had to be!

After everyone’s tastebuds were blessed with the heavenly substance that is MC’s culinary exploits, Mammon decides he needs to get on this human’s good side in order to receive more food! Maybe even find some way to make a profit or somethin’!

After weeks go by of trying to suck up to the human without looking like too much of a chump, Mammon eventually realizes… hey, this human ain’t so bad. They’re nice, they make him feel good about himself, they give him headpats… he’s really hit the jackpot here!

He’ll offer to help MC bake or cook, but beware, he will try and sample the food before it’s done. Don’t let him lick the spoon!!!

Leviathan

First thought? This human ain’t shit. Thought after seeing their food? WOAAAAAAAH! JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME-

He was unceremoniously cut off by Beel asking demanding seconds. Humph, fine, he doesn’t actually care about this dumb normie food anyway.

…well at least until Levi saw a little something something on TV that he just had to ask MC to try and make. He shyly knocked on their door and when they answered, Levi shoved the screenshot in their face and stuttered out a dinner request.

On the day MC was supposed to make dinner, Levi poked his head into the kitchen and tried to make it look like he was just standing in the same room as MC and not checking to see if they were making his dinner request.

Not that he’d blame them for not doing that… who’d wanna make some anime dinner for a yucky Otaku- OMG JAHSHSHABA THEY’RE MAKING IT! *fangirl squeals*

As Levi continues to commit the SIN of being in the kitchen at the same time as someone else, MC eventually just asks him if he’d like to help out.

“Here! Just keep turning the takoyaki.” “R-really? You trust me?” “Yes, Levi. You watched how they made it on your show, right?” “Yes! I won’t mess up! I swear on my honour as an otaku!”

All in all, it was a very cute bonding experience for the two. Now it’s a regular thing. Levi requests something for dinner or dessert, MC makes it, Levi helps out.

Satan

So, the human can cook. That’s nice. At least someone in this literally god forsaken house can.

He makes sure to thank MC every time they cook, then he makes sure to thank whatever deity is watching over him that Solomon wasn’t the human staying with them.

As the months progress, Satan realizes, he should learn how to cook better. I mean, Levi and Mammon were somehow both improving in their cooking endeavours, and if MC could teach those two, then he would be a breeze.

Satan walked into the kitchen and simply asked if MC needed any assistance with what they were doing. MC just slid him some garlic to dice and that’s how this mentor/student relationship was formed.

Satan was a star pupil, but Mammon and Levi weren’t above trying to sabotage Satan’s progress to get him to leave.

Here’s the thing, the sabotage worked, but it only worked once, and the two idiots didn’t stop to think that maybe they shouldn’t sabotage the meal they were going to have to eat later.

Well, cooking lessons continued uninterrupted after the ghost pepper incident…

Even when he’s ‘graduated’ their little cooking class, Satan’s always willing to lend a hand if needed. He also will slyly hand over some recipe books and cute baking supplies that he finds. MC should be prepared for lots of cat related things to come their way.

Asmodeus

The human can cook? Oh frabcious day! He’s saved from a life of his brother’s mediocre cooking! And the human’s so cute too! What a bonus!

Not only is the human cute, but their food is just so… aesthetic??? Pretty???? Omigosh he just has to get a picture for Devilgram!

For the first few months, MC’s relationship with Asmo consists of Asmo not at all subtly asking to take pictures of their food and post it to his Devilgram. Listen MC, his followers would just love it!

Being the saint-sheep they are, MC lets Asmo sit in whenever they’re making anything in the kitchen. And Asmo slowly realizes “hey, this cute human with the awesome food is actually pretty cool too!”

New Mission: Make the human fall madly in love with him so they’ll want to hang out more.

Whether the mission succeeds is up to MC of course. (I mean, I’m already smitten with him sooooooooo-)

MC offers Asmo a lot of the pastries they make, but the Avatar of Lust almost always declines. Listen honey, he’s on a diet- wait, don’t make that sad face! He’ll eat it! Look! It’s- it’s delicious…

Diet cheat day is now every day MC makes dessert. The feeling of bliss Asmo gets when he takes a bite out of anything MC makes is only second of the treats is second only to the joy he feels at seeing MC happy that he likes their food. It’s just so wholesome I can’t-

MC’s food Devilgram has almost surpassed Asmo in terms of followers and honestly- he isn’t even mad.

Beelzebub

Gasp! Lucifer finally got him the pet personal chef he’d always wanted! Thanks big bro! :D he’ll be sure not to eat this human!

On the first night MC was supposed to make dinner, Lucifer needed to hold Beel back from breaking into the kitchen to see what was causing that heavenly smell. It was, difficult… especially because Lucifer hadn’t slept in three days.

When they all sat down to eat, Beel practically inhaled everything and held up his half bitten plate for seconds.

We here at Stupid Headcanons incorporated recommend that MC have as many bodyguards as possible stationed around the kitchen at all times to ward off a hungry Beel. We don’t want him eating the ingredients and half-tempered chocolate.

A cinnamon roll through and through, he’ll eat everything MC gives him with a big ol’ smile on his cute little face. He’s not the best person to go to if MC wants advice or critique because the best thing Beel can usually muster is “it was really good.”

As Luke said in Lesson 5, Beel would make an awful food reporter. But we love him.

Similar to Levi, he’ll give meal requests on what to make for dinner. (At this rate, MC’s going to have to make some kind of list).

He kind of just waits by the door like a sad puppy whenever MC is making anything because he can’t get into the kitchen :(

Belphegor

The smell of freshly made chocolate chip cookies wafting through the house did reach the attic and it only fuelled his rage more. How dare the human win everyone over with cookies?!

After the attic incident, Belphie was won over with cookies.

Belphie just stands creepily in the kitchen doorway whenever MC is making anything and just makes shit really uncomfortable. Why’s he doing that, you may be wondering, well, he’s trying to calculate the energy needed to swipe the bowl of cookie dough and sprint to safety.

He never succeeds, mainly because once he gets to the bowl, MC already has the wooden spoon ready to smack him, so he just freezes mid-theft and slowly puts the bowl down.

“Oh my gosh, it says let the bread dough rest overnight? Let’s get a headstart and go to sleep now.” “Belphie what-” “I made a pillow Fort, come in. Let’s sleep.” “In the kitchen????”

How’d he make the pillow Fort without MC noticing? Years of experience. He’s trained in the art of- MC? What do you mean you can’t sleep right now and you need to get a head start on shaping fondant?

…he may have eaten the fondant while MC wasn’t looking… whoops… Beel may have rubbed off on him a little…

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 1

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren't a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner's 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, I have planned this as a series/full story. I was torn between writing it on here or on Wattpad or something, but ultimately decided on Tumblr . . . but let me know if you would prefer it on another platform as well! Also, this series will eventually include smut/NSFW content but that will be tagged appropriately when the time comes. As always, I hope you enjoy. 

Next →Part 2

Slamming the front door behind yourself on your way out that morning, you quickly stuffed your earbuds into your ears and cranked your music as loud as you could to drown out the sounds of your parents yelling after you and, consequently, at one another after you had dropped the bomb about your new job on them seconds before you had left, giving them as little time as possible to shame you for it.

After graduating high school and turning 18, you had decided it was time to take your life into your hands, which wasn’t too easy while you were still living under your parents’ roof, but you had to start somewhere and that somewhere was getting a job at the local corner store, Sakanoshita Market. 

You knew that your parents wanted you to go to university and ‘make something of yourself’, but you also knew that you could never truly be happy under their dictatorship-like ruling, so you decided to get a job, no matter how shitty, save your money, move out as soon as possible, and go from there. 

It was definitely going to be a process, and not an easy one, but all you had to do was take it one step at a time.

Rounding the corner and seeing the market in the distance, you felt your nerves begin to bubble inside of you a little. Sure, you had gotten some part-time jobs here and there during summer vacation before, but you had never gotten a full-time job before and had never needed the money from a job like you did now. Before, the cash you made was for extra spending money during the summer and school year, but now the money you would be making would be funding your future. It seemed like a lot of pressure to put on a job that entailed stocking shelves, checking out customers, and cleaning. 

The lady who had hired you had basically explained that since she was getting older and her son, who had been maintaining the place previously, had gotten a new job, the store needed someone to learn the ropes and take care of the place on a daily basis; and since you were young, a fast learner, and didn’t have anything else in your life besides work, you were a perfect fit. 

As the shop doors slid open smoothly to welcome you into the store you had been inside countless times in the past, you suddenly felt completely out of place in the familiar market. Now that you were an employee instead of a customer, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Instead of heading right for the fridges to grab a drink like you usually did, your eyes shifted immediately to the front counter where a figure with its feet up hid behind an open newspaper.

Just like every other time you had visited while the store owner’s son was working, he did everything humanly possible to avoid interaction. Usually, you would have appreciated not being bothered while trying to scan the shelves, but since this time was different, the lack of acknowledgement was slightly unnerving. 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, hoping it was enough to catch his attention. It was not. Instead, he flipped the page of the newspaper and you watched as a hand emerged from behind the paper barrier to flick the ashes from his cigarette into an ashtray sitting beside the register. 

Eyebrows furrowed, you really wished that the shop owner herself had been there to greet you for your first day instead of her seemingly useless son. “Hello.” You stepped up to the counter, the feeling of not belonging sinking deeper into your bones. 

Slowly, the newspaper separating you from the man behind the counter lowered and the shop owner’s son glared back at you, eyes half-lidded as if he were seconds away from falling asleep and the cigarette from before hanging from his bottom lip. This was far from the first time you had interacted with him, but you would be surprised if he remembered you as a customer even a little. Whenever he checked customers out, you could tell he was running on autopilot. 

The man’s eyes drifted down to your hands, which were resting on top of the counter now. Noticing you didn’t have anything to purchase, he cocked a brow. “Need help finding somethin’?” 

“Ugh, no,” you answered. “I’m the new employee. I’m supposed to start today.”

His eyes scanned you once more, this time more thoroughly, and you swallowed hard. Feeling as if you were being observed under a microscope, you slid your hands off of the counter and stuffed them into your pockets self-consciously. 

As he inspected you inch by inch, you took the time to take a closer look at him as well. With dyed blonde hair, two earrings in his left ear, an apparent nicotine addiction, and a noticeably flippant attitude toward his job, he was the definition of the type of man your parents would kill you for bringing home. Somehow, this only made him more intriguing. You wondered if he really was as disinterested in everything as he seemed or if it was just this job he thoroughly hated and became someone a lot more interesting when he wasn’t behind a counter.

“How old are you?” he asked out of the blue, catching you off guard a little. While he waited for you to answer, he set the newspaper to the side, dragged his feet from the counter top, and patted out some of the wrinkles from the white apron he had tied around his bright orange sweatshirt. 

“I’m 18,” you responded, not sure why it mattered but also not seeing any harm in answering honestly. 

Seconds later, the door to the back of the shop and storage room opened and the familiar face of the woman who had hired you stepped into view. “Oh, Y/N!” she greeted happily; much more enthusiastically and welcoming than her son. “Sorry about that, I was just getting some last minute things together.” She eyed her son out of the corner of her eye and noted the fresh embers in the ashtray. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, I just got here,” you told her. 

“Good.” She smiled sweetly before turning to her son. “Well, you can head out now, Keishin. Thank you for watching the counter.”

“Yeah,” the man, Keishin, grunted as he untied the apron from around his waist, slipped it over his head, and hung it up on a hook behind the counter. “See ya.”

With that, Keishin left, leaving you and his mother alone. Wasting no time, Mrs. Sakanoshita, whom the store was named after, got right to work on teaching you the basics and gifting you with a white apron of your own to wear while on the job. Since it was the middle of the day and the customer flow was relatively slow, she introduced you to how the register and scanner at the counter worked before moving on to unpacking boxes.

Just like you had promised on your resume and during the interview, you were a quick learner and Mrs. Sakanoshita was more than pleased to see you picking up the job quickly and efficiently. 

By the time the after work/school rush of patrons picking up items on their way home had begun, you were feeling confident in your abilities and, with your boss by your side to answer any questions you may have, you checked out customer after customer, building up muscle memory for scanning items, collecting cash, opening the register, handing out receipts, and sending customers on their merry way. 

All in all, the job was quickly growing on you. You liked the fact that, for the most part, you were the only employee on duty, so when there weren’t any customers in the store, you could work silently on unpacking boxes without having to worry about making small talk or being friendly with any coworkers. In fact, as far as you knew, the only people who worked at the store at all were you, Mrs. Sakanoshita, and her son, Keishin. 

It seemed as though you had really landed a sweet gig. 

After showing you how to lock up, Mrs. Sakanoshita headed home for the night, leaving you to finish stocking the shelves and cleaning the shop before you would head home as well.

Now that you were truly the only person left, you walked over to the old radio you had spotted on the counter during training that day and fiddled with the dials, trying to get some music playing to accompany you during your evening chores. After some careful handiwork and enduring some horrendous static and high-pitched screeching while searching for a station, you settled on what sounded like some old instrumental music and got to work on stocking the remaining shelves.

Throughout your shift, you quickly learned that the store got quite warm during the day and you had needed to tie your hair up to keep the back of your neck from dripping with sweat. The night wasn’t much better either, especially since the lack of customers so late meant that the doors rarely opened, keeping the cold night air outside and the warm store air inside. 

After finishing the last box of supplies, you exhaled and wiped your brow. You were exhausted, that was for sure, but you still had to sweep. 

Deciding to take a quick break, you turned toward the floor-to-ceiling fridges at the back of the shop and pulled open the door, sighing happily when the cool air hit your skin. Exhaling slowly, you snickered when you saw your breath fog up in front of you face. 

“You’re letting all the cold air out.”

You shrieked when you heard a voice in your right ear and slammed the fridge door shut, jumping back in the process. Thanks to the music from the radio and the loud hum of the generator that kept the fridges cold, you hadn’t heard the front doors slide open or the footsteps of Keishin approaching you.

“Jesus!” You clamped your hand over your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?”

Keishin glared at you. “You work here one day and suddenly act like you own the place?”

Realizing how rude your question had come across, you composed yourself and rephrased. “What I meant was, your mom didn’t say you were coming back.”

Pointing upward, Keishin sighed, disinterested. “I live in the apartment above the shop.”

“Oh.” Things started making much more sense and you suddenly felt pretty embarrassed for how you had reacted. 

“Yeah . . . oh.” He rolled his eyes, but it didn’t come across necessarily rude but more like he was exhausted and you were adding to said exhaustion. “Why were you standing with the door open anyway?”

As he spoke, he stepped toward you. At first, your feet felt cemented to the floor and you didn’t move. But when he persisted closer, you eventually stumbled back and Keishin opened the fridge door you had been standing in front of to grab a beer from inside. With drink in hand, he eyed you once again, waiting for an answer.

“It’s really hot,” you said, gesturing to his orange sweater. “I don’t know how you wear that thing in here.”

Looking down at his apparel, he just shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He turned and started for the counter, presumably to pay for the drink he had just taken. “In the future, stand outside if you’re warm.”

“Okay.” You nodded, mindlessly tailing him. You had to grab the broom from behind the counter anyway, but that was the furthest thing from the front of your mind at that moment. If anything, you were still trying to calm down a little from being startled and now being alone with your boss’s son. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He popped the tab on the beer, settled into the stool behind the counter, and downed at least half of the drink in a few large gulps. 

You watched him, probably a little too closely, and as you did you found yourself reexamining the features you had taken note of earlier that day: the dyed blonde hair held out of his face with a thin black headband, the natural brown hair that peeked out from the roots, the two small silver hoop earrings in his left ear, the scent of cigarette smoke that clung to him like how the smell of rain clung to the air after a heavy storm. 

Noticing your gaze, which would have been nearly impossible to miss, Keishin quirked a brow at you and held out the can of beer toward you. “You want a sip?”

Startled from your thoughts, you shook your head. “I’m only 18.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He withdrew the can and took another sip, this one much smaller than the first few. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Eyes wide, you thought quick to come up with an excuse. “The broom.” You pointed to the item behind him. “Can you pass me the broom?”

After handing you the broom, Keishin pulled a slip of paper and a pen out from his pocket and started writing and scribbling things down, sipping the remainder of his beer occasionally and ignoring you completely. 

Trying to avoid staring at Keishin anymore than you already had, you started sweeping at the far end of the store and left the area around and behind the counter for last. Eventually, though, you had worked your way back over to the the silent man and was forced to clean the floor behind where he was sitting, trying hard not to disturb him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of what he was so focused on; it looked like a crude drawing of a volleyball court. “What’s that?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you realized you were being rude again and snooping.

Keishin, however, didn’t seem angry or annoyed in the slightest. “Volleyball positions,” he huffed. It was clear he was growing frustrated.

“You play volleyball?”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “I used to. Now I coach the boy’s team at Karasuno.”

“I went to Karasuno,” you said mindlessly, just trying to make conversation at that point. 

He hummed in response and turned his attention back to the sheet before him. “Did you play volleyball?”

“No. Soccer.”

“Do you still play?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still play volleyball?”

“With a neighbourhood association sometimes . . . but not really.”

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk, Keishin looked back to you once more. “I asked you first.”

“It’s not a good answer.” You leaned against the broom handle and sighed. “Don’t have the time.”

“You’re young and just graduated high school. You’ve got nothing but time.”

“Not with this job.”

Keishin scoffed, folded the paper, and shoved it back into his pocket with the pen. “Speaking of which, why would you take such a boring job at a store like this?”

You just shrugged. “I need the money.”

“Don’t you live with your parents?”

“That’s the problem,” you said, noticing the confusion on his face. “I told you it wasn’t a good answer.”

“Do they know you work here?”

“Do they know? Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Do they like it? Absolutely not.”

Keishin grinned at that before finishing his beer and tossing the empty can into the recycling bin beside the front door. “So you’re one of those teens, huh?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust me, kid, pissing off your parents just for the sake of it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You think I’m doing all this just because I can?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“That story’s too long and convoluted for me to recite right now . . . especially to some old dude I just met today.”

Keishin chuckled under his breath, hands stuffed into his pockets as he headed for the door at the back of the shop so he could head upstairs to his apartment. “’Old dude’,” he repeated, clearly amused. “Don’t forget to lock up before you go home.”

As he turned his back to you, your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Stopping in his tracks, Keishin pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his pants’ pocket along with a lighter. After placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. “Too old for you, sweetheart,” he spoke while exhaling, smoke spilling from his lips as he smirked at you. 

With that, he disappeared into the back. You wanted to shout after him that you had told him how old you were without hesitation when he had asked, but you stayed silent instead. 

As much as his presence unnerved you and his superiority complex aggravated you, you still found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Maybe it was because he seemed completely disinterested in you, or maybe it was because he was everything you were always told to stay away from. 

The one thing you did know, however, was that if everyone around you was going to keep trying to convince you they knew how you should live your life better than you did, you were going to prove to them just how they wrong they were one way or another. 

[ta0ken]

LITTERA SCRIPTA MANET (the written letter lasts)

❝𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮❞ — atticus. 

have you ever felt what it was like to dream? to even vividly remember the dream? how does it feel; does it feel nice? you wonder and wonder, but the dreams are always there (only with a few changes). you're only reliving a dream.

                                                         in books, freedom →

TAPPING RESOUNDED THROUGHOUT THE ROOM, yet there's a silence that fills the room you sat in as well. It's noisy, yet it's not. It's quiet, yet it's not. It's contradictory, in your opinion, as you leaned onto your chin, resting it on your fist. You hummed, unsure of what would happen. A small huff left your lips, blowing out strands from your hair, continuously bothering you from your work (though, you weren't really working).

Your pen scattered dots all around your lined paper, yet nothing was written on it. "This isn't some connect the dots game..." you softly sighed to yourself, raising a brow at the paper, disappointed and obviously unamused.

Glancing out the window, you stared, watching the sun rays light up your dim-lit room. You closed your eyes, reminiscing the times you were in high school (were you?), not really having any friends, only focusing on smarts and academics, though you weren't weak.

Too bad you had gotten into too many fights that caused your school record to drop at the lowest of low.

The dreams you've had were weird. You, at first, thought that you had grown older, done different things, lived a different life, but all of those were dreams; lucid, but merely dreams (but they only occurred two times, so, perhaps they don't count). Your eyes scanned the dots once more, still unimpressed with what you've gotten. Head drooping down, you let out another sigh, one full of frustration and exhaustion - you wouldn't be able to write a poem at any rate, would you?

"Oh, how this wounds me," you said to yourself. "Woe is me, woe is me... I guess."

Leaning back in your seat, you stared at your ceiling, blinking. The ceiling remained the same, nothing had changed. Maybe, I can just write about dreams or something... Gah! I hate this... You sulked and sulked and sulked, but nothing would change the fact that you couldn't write anything—

Ah. Now you know why. Someone had been murdered, you remembered. Not someone you knew, but for some reason, you felt like you recognized the person who had murdered the random nobody. Still, you weren't sure, and it didn't matter.

"...Weird," you muttered, balancing a pen between your lips and nose. "Really weird."

You closed your eyes, letting out a soft sigh, slowly sinking into your seat without a care. You felt tired, and you didn’t want to do any more work, though you weren’t doing any work anyway.

“Oi, [Name]!”

Your eyes open, and you blink. Slowly taking the pen between your lips and nose, you stare at the ceiling that shouldn’t have changed, yet it did. You slowly lower your head, still blinking, and looked at the person in front of you that had long hair, yellow eyes, and sharp teeth (though, that was his original appearance; the one you weren’t used to seeing).

”…Baji,” you acknowledge, expression forming into one of boredom. “What do you need, more tutor lessons?”

He gives you a scowl, before grinning, jutting his thumb behind him, exclaiming, “Nah, I wanted to hang out with ya. Me, you, and the others!”

A grim expression replaces your bored one, and you wave your hand in the air, other hand in your pocket. Leaning back into your seat, you twirl the pen in your hands, and you simply tell him, “No.” You didn’t want to hang out; there was no need to. “We’re not friends, Baji; I’m only your tutor, or whatever.” You ignore the feeling that this wasn’t a dream (but you wished it was).

The boy lets out a breath, crossing his arms. “Man… You’re a guy, ya know that?”

”I… I’d hope I’m a guy—“

”That’s not what I meant!” he barks. He turns his head, a frown appearing on his face. Upon your expression, he frowns even more. “Listen, I’m only asking you anyway because of you helping me out with school and shit.”

Your hand twitches and your brow furrows, a crease forming. This scene feels like it’s repeating, going on and on and on and on—why? You didn’t realize you were staring at him, until he waves a hand in your face, obviously impatient. “…Uh,” you blink, “sorry—No, I don’t… want to go.”

A small huff.

You only shrug in response, slowly getting up from your seat. You glance down at the floor, noticing your bag beside the leg of the chair. Why? You stare at it with narrowed eyes, distressed, but you hid it; the boy before you didn’t need to know what was happening, anyway. Grabbing your bag, you slung it across your shoulder, sparing Baji a glance. “…Why are you still here?” you ask, raising a brow, “Don’t you have your gang to go to?”

“Anyway, I’m going home. Bye,” you mutter, shuffling past the long-haired boy.

✎______

“You’re very selfish, Baji.”

”Huh? And you’re acting like you’re not?”

You rest your chin on your hand, lips in a thin line. You were with Baji and Chifuyu, who was technically his underclassmen, but he got held back a lot of times. You cock your head to the side, slowly gazing over towards the blonde, “How d’you manage to hang out with him? He’s a brute.”

”The hell did you say?!” Baji’s hand slams down onto the table booth you all sat at, glaring at you. “I’m no brute!”

You give him a blank stare. “…I can assume that your ma said you were a ‘handsome fellow’ or somethin’?”

Chifuyu coughs at that, hiding his snort. “C’mon, [Name], do you really think a guy like him is handsome?” He has a grin on his face, leaning back into his own seat, amused by the bickering (or maybe exhausted, who knows?).

You raise a brow, glancing over at Baji, who was fuming. Rubbing your chin, you hum in thought. “He’s pretty…” you say, trailing off, ignoring the suspicious look from Chifuyu and the arrogant look from Baji, and continued, “…for a girl.”

”Wh- I’M NOT A GIRL!”

”PFFFT—“

You grin, amused. Leaning back into your seat, you look back up to the ceiling, the grin dropping slowly. As fun as it was, can this dream end? Your hand raised up towards your face, pinching it as hard as you could, but it only left a mark.

It left a mark.

You lower your head once more, eyes staring at the wooden table that seemed too polished for its own good, the light showing your reflection. You were back in your 15-year-old body, still in middle school, though it made no sense. Shifting, your eyes darted towards the other two, one older, one younger, and they seemed the same from middle school; laughing, smiling, joking around.

Your hand clenches, gripping your uniform pants.

”…Am I dreaming?” you whisper to yourself, “Is this nothing but a mere illusion, to hinder my dob- doubts—? Fuck.”

“Did you stumble over your words again, [Name]?” Baji teases, leaning over towards you.

Your face flushes red, and you narrow your eyes at him. “No,” you say indignantly, “I did nuh- not. I did, not.”

”But, you did, just now,” Chifuyu points out. “Right, Baji-san? He just stumbled over his words?”

”…I said—“

”No, yeah, he did.”

”I SAID I FUCKING DIDN’T—“

✎______ [Name] occasionally stumbles over his words, despite knowing so many. And he ends up getting mad over it.

You rest your head on the table, grumbling profanities. Despite being smart, despite all of this, you were still foul-mouthed, and you were still a ‘child.’ You muffle out a small, “One day, I’ll kill the both of you, just you wait.”

Baji lets out a snort, patting your back harshly, “Sure you will.”

“I will.”

Chifuyu nods sarcastically, finished with his noodles. “Yes, of course, you will.”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “Well, fuck you guys, too.” You glance over at the pair, before you looked away, not wanting to deal with them. But, you continued to pinch your arm, not caring about the pain, for you just wanted to go back to your regular life.

"Hey."

I want to go back. Let me be a poet, once more, you sigh wistfully, leaning onto your fist, zoning out. I need to be a poet, once more; I graduated, did I not? I did, I did, so then why, why can't I wake up?

"[Name]."

This is all a dream.

"[Name], wake up!"

You blink, eyes wide. Turning your head towards the pair, you stare for a few seconds, before blinking once more. "...Sorry, what?" you say with a smile, ignoring the aching pain in your arm now, "Did you need something? Or were you guys planning on bothering me again."

Chifuyu narrows his eyes at you, suspicious of how you were acting. "...No, you were just pinching your arm really hard and not saying anything about it," he remarks, crossing his arms. "Are you some sort of masochist?"

Baji raises a brow, checking you out as he leans forward, "...I wouldn't put it past him to be a masochist. He gives off that sort of vibe, you know?"

"Oi, what's that s'posed to mean?" you scowl, pushing yourself away from the two. "I'm no fuck—I'm not a masochist." Despite you saying all of that, Baji only laughs, hand ruffling your hair.

"...I hate you all."

"Sure you do."

✎______

You weren't sure if you had this feeling that you were going to insane or if you were lucid dreaming (it was probably both), but it was slowly getting to you. Each step felt like it was pulling you towards the ground, keeping you there from moving on, from trying to back to the present (or was it future?). But was it even the present if you're you now?

It didn't occur to you, that you were back in the past. Every dream, every time you close your eyes, every time you open your eyes, there's a new view.

But there were no views this time, as you stared, blankly wandering around on your own. Baji left to do his own thing, as did Chifuyu. You weren't sure what they were doing, but you didn't want to get involved with gang fights anyway.

Instead, you chose to go back to the store nearby your old apartment (well, technically, your current one, huh?). You haven't met the rest of the Toman members except for the 'Founding Members', but even then, you didn't want to join. They weren't your friends (well, in the past, you didn't consider them friends, but they probably considered you a friend), and you didn't want to be their friend.

Well, maybe you did.

It gets lonely, anyway. Having to repeat life over and over again, without knowing who's the cause (once you find out who's causing it, though...).

You look at the cashier, hands in your pockets as you slump over, eyes drooping due to exhaustion. You could feel yourself beginning to tire throughout the day, yet it was only the afternoon still, almost evening.

"Can I have one pack of cigarettes?"

✎______

You lean back against the wall, looking off into the distance, sighing. You had the pack of cigarettes in your hand, glancing around the area, putting a cancer stick in your mouth, letting it hang off from between your lips. Tilting your head, you let out a huff. You were only 15-years-old, yet you were originally 26-years-old at the start (or was it at the original? You weren't sure, too many things ran through your head, really).

Drip.

Ignoring the dripping sounds that slowly grew into pitter-patter, you didn't bother to light the cigarette, simply satisfied with the feeling of it on your lips. A small sigh was drawn out, your eyes gazing at the droplets of rain that splattered on the cement, sometimes getting onto your boots.

Drip drip drip drip drip drip drip—

Rubbing the back of your head, you glanced away, pushing yourself away from the wall. You begin to walk, not caring about the rain that made you damp, your hair flattening on your head. Ignoring it, you clench and unclench your fists, trying to still wake yourself up from this dream that seemed all too real (you wish you could wake up, but you never will).

You look up at the rain, humming, sometimes squinting due to the droplets hitting you straight in the eye. Your face twitches, but you shrug your shoulders.

"Rain's a bad sign, ain't it? Especially if it's heavy like this..." you say to yourself, walking on the sidewalk. "August 3rd... Huh. The day of the festival... Hm."

You close your eyes, shrugging once again.

Looking up at the rain once more, you say to yourself quietly, voice barely near a whisper, "...Is this a dream that I can wake up from, or is this a dream that I'm stuck in forever? Hm... I wonder..." you look back towards the road, "...if the world just hates me after all."

A small laugh left your lips.

"Yeah. The world hates me, for sure."

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 5

A/N: this went in a completely different direction than the original comic did but I think its better this way. More angstier.

Chapter 4

The glow of blue fire emanates from the Witches’ house. As the three brothers watched, the child tucked safely into Lucifer’s arm, the mood was solemn.

“So, it’s over? What happens now?” Beel asked.

“We go home,” The Avatar of Pride replies, “And we help Mammon do his best to move past this...” He turns to look at his brothers, the glow from the fire casting a dark shadow over his face. “We’re finished here. Let’s go.”

A portal was opened as the eldest walked through followed by the others. On the other side, he found Levi and Belphegor trying to move Satan’s old crib from the attic down to Arella’s old room.

“Come on, Levi, put your back into it!” Belphie said as they moved down the stairs carefully. “I’m practically carrying this thing on my own here.”

“I'm trying! A shut in like me isn’t meant to be moving something so heavy.” Levi groaned as he hefted the crib up further.

Lucifer only cleared his throat as the seventh and third-born brothers looked his way. “Where’s Mammon?”

“I used my powers to put him back to sleep so he could rest up before the kid got here.” The Avatar of Sloth replied. “He doesn’t need to be over-tired and dealing with an infant at the same time. It’s a recipe for disaster, if you ask me. ”

At the commotion, Arella came out of the kitchen where she was washing out all of the old baby bottles they would need. “Oh, you’re back. I can take him now. Beel, would you help them with the crib please? It’ll be going in my old room for the time being, and Satan, would you finish drying the bottles for me, please?”

Both brothers nodded with Beel stepping forth to take the crib from his brothers and Satan headed to the kitchen. Levi and Belphie let out exhausted sighs as they headed off to their rooms and the only two left now in the entrance hall were Lucifer and Arella. She held her arms out for the little one and Lucifer was all too happy to oblige her.

With a small cry of discontentment, the baby settled into her arms quickly as she shushed him. She rocked him gently until he was back to sleep. Seeing her step so readily into the role of motherhood left the demon impressed.

“He’s already had a diaper change around two hours ago and he ate around an hour ago so he should be fine for a little bit.”

”Alright, he is frightfully thin though which worries me, but he’s in good hands now.”

“Why are you doing this, Arella? You know you don’t have to and yet here you are, embracing a child that’s not even yours.”

“Do I need a reason?” She smiles as she looked up at him. “I don’t think I do. I suppose if I have to have a reason it would be that I just want to help Mammon. He can’t do this alone. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

The Avatar of Pride only nodded. “You humans never cease to amaze me with your generosity. Has he thought of a name yet?”

“He threw a couple names out there but ultimately he couldn’t decide so he asked me to choose the name from the ones he suggested.”

“And?”

“I chose the name Cyrus, from the Latin meaning sun. Right now, it’s a very dark time in our lives, but I hope one day he’ll be bright like a little ray of sunshine.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” The demon hums. “But are you sure you’ll be alright tonight? You’ve been up nearly all night. You have to be exhausted by now.”

“I’ll be alright. This isn’t the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter. When I graduated from Cambridge a couple years back, I earned myself a degree in biochemical engineering. I can’t tell you the number of sleepless nights I had cramming in last minute reviews. This won’t be anything compared to those. I’m obviously not planning to go to RAD tomorrow, so I can just sleep when Cyrus sleeps.”

“You can take online courses then. We’re going to try to pass him off as your child for that to work you’ll need to be absent from RAD for an extended period of time. If word gets out that my brother was assaulted, the mockery he’ll face will be absolutely ridiculous. It’ll be easy since demons don’t know much about human anatomy. We can always say it was a surprise pregnancy and you never showed.”

Arella only nodded at that. “Thank you,” she turned and headed to her old room for the night to settle the baby.

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

Mammon slept for a full eight hours before waking up with a start. While he felt rested, there was also an odd sense of worry flowing through him. He looked around frantically and then realized what was missing. Arella wasn’t with him. He got out of bed and made his way around the house looking for his mate. She would be in the last place he looked- in her room. He shrunk back at the sight of his child resting against her chest, as a soft purring noise filled the room. The sight reminded him just how much he wanted them to have a child of their own together.

The demon stood there, mesmerized by the sight in front of him until his human noticed him. She motioned for him to join her on the bed, a bright smile enveloped her features as he did just that.

“He’s beautiful, love.” She said as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Do you want to try to hold him?”

He shook his head as he rested his cheek against her. “I don’t know if I can right now...” The Avatar of Greed only frowned. He wanted to hold Cyrus but he still felt like none of this was real. “It feels like a bad dream... Like I’ll wake up any second now.”

“That’s alright. If it helps, you could pretend that he was always our son to begin with. It might help you in the long run.”

“Do ya think... maybe I can trick myself like that?” He reached out and stroked the child’s cheek. “’Rella, I don’t get it... How can somethin’ so beautiful be born from somethin’ so horrible?”

“Sometimes the best things come from tragedy, Love. I’m so proud of you for being strong enough to take him in, do you know that?”

Mammon would only nod in response as a tiny hand came to wrap around his finger. For a moment all the air was stolen out of his chest as he recoiled from the contact slightly. The feeling of a crushing weight on his chest that he had only felt in his worst nightmares had returned. Suddenly, he wondered if he made the right decision as the realization set in that he was a father now. What if he was never able to love his son? What kind of damage would that do to his child? Could he do this?

“Mammon?”

“I-I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he takes a few deep breaths and he’s able to calm himself. “I'll take him now. Hafta get past this at some point. I hafta be the parent he needs.”

“You will be. I have faith in you.” Arella kissed his cheek before carefully transferring Cyrus to his father. “I know you’ll be a fantastic father once you’re able to see him separately from what his mother and aunts did to you.”

He only nodded as Arella cards her fingers through his hair. He thought this would be a monumental challenge at first, and it still was but as long as she was here, he thought maybe things would go smoother.

—————————————————————

The crying was the worst part for Mammon and Cyrus was unfortunately a fussy baby. Over the past few weeks since he’d been brought home, there were multiple times where the white-haired demon had to leave the room whenever his child cried or pass him off to his adoptive mother, feeling too physically sick to listen to or even look at the child.

The end of the spring term was nearly upon them and since exams would be coming up. Mammon took every chance he could to stay late at RAD for some extra studying with Satan and Asmodeus, knowing he had to get his grades back up. But the guilt was eating away at him. Arella was at home all day, typically alone, with his child. Any good father- any good mate- would be rushing home to give his partner a break to take time for herself and Mammon knows this but even when he doesn’t stay late at school he finds himself dragging his feet to get home.

He stared and stared at the work book in front of him. It was curses and hexes, one of his most hated subjects and arguably his worst grade. Eventually, he just shut the work book, taking of his glasses and just rubbing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. This caught the attention of his younger brothers.

”You alright, Mams?” Asmo asked as he set his pen down.

”Am I a bad father?” The white-haired demon countered with his own question.

”No, of course not.” Satan frowned. “Given everything that happened, I’d say you’re doing great.”

”It doesn’t feel like it,” he frowned. “This is my kid and yet it feels like Arella’s doin’ all the work. Takin’ care of him all the time, stayin’ home with him all the time… It should be me doin’ all the work not her! I’m the one who said I’d keep him and yet I can’t bring myself to do anything for him. A-And its not like I don’t know how to take care of a baby. I’ve done it before.”

The Avatar of Greed ran a hand through his hair in frustration before packing up his things.

”Where are you going?” Satan yelled after his brother before being shushed by the librarian.

”Home! To apologize to my mate and force myself to take care of my child.”

If you want to be tagged for updates, let me know

Next

Masterlist 2

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm. 

Masterlist here 

AO3 Link here

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’  Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ . 

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red. 

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers. 

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s. 

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves. 

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own. 

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’ 

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh. 

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky. 

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply. 

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion. 

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response. 

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink. 

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes. 

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’. 

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water. 

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’ 

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation. 

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next. 

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say). 

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart. 

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face. 

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.  

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap. 

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away. 

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips. 

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest. 

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’  by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes. 

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind. 

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that. 

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’ 

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’ 

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come. 

‘Tsumu?’ 

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses. 

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again. 

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes. 

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye. 

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka. 

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate. 

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home. 

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’. 

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.  

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a  dad  made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that  shit  - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated. 

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’ 

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’. 

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death. 

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see  hope  reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too. 

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands. 

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup. 

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family. 

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed. 

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips. 

[not-withoutyou]

hello!! it's not a word prompt but i have this idea for a plot in my mind and i think you would work with it beautifully...

I've been imagining steve and bucky before the war, not kids anymore and thinking about the future you know... and they fantasize about having kids together, and they talk about it with so much passion even though they know it's not possible tho :/ (just the drama i want to have a good cry) anyway if you could write something like that i would freak out :')

<3 it’s just a little somethin but I hope I did it justice

.

While Becca watched their youngest sisters, Bucky had gotten roped into taking the middle one to the lake—partially because his parents were going out for the night, but mostly because they’d piled on more responsibilities in an attempt to stop him from spending so much time alone with Steve. (They said it wasn't right, people were starting to talk.)

And Bucky knew the consequences of disobedience, but he had Steve meet him at the lake, anyway. One more year until he graduated highschool and could orchestrate his escape from that house. But for now, whatever was coming was worth it if he got to listen to his best friend ramble about an assignment for art class.

They’d all picked flowers first, then Talia had taken off, running in circles through the tall grass with unbridled joy. He was watching, of course, to make sure she didn’t get too near the water’s edge. Legs kicked out in front of him, palms in the soft grass propped him up.

Steve was lying next to him, arms pillowed behind his head and face tilted up to the fading orange early-autumn sun. In this light, he could see the faint outline of veins on the thin skin of closed eyelids. His freckles had come out in droves over the summer and he’d almost lost track of what Steve was saying because he was counting them all.

It was innocent enough, except that Bucky was staring . He hadn’t realized so until Talia collided with him.

“Oh,” he groaned, all the air knocked out of him as his arm came up to catch her to his chest. He bit his tongue to contain an explicative unsuitable for the ears of a 7 year old as she threw her skinny arms around his neck.

He loved his sister to pieces, but she was getting to be a sack of potatoes. “Sweetheart, ‘member what I said about jumpin’ on me?”

“Make sure you’re lookin’ first,” she said, little hands squishing either side of his cheeks. “‘m sorry.”

And Bucky would never be mad at those dimples. “s’alright.” He gave her a reassuring smile, trying to dust some of the dirt off her dress—his Ma would throw a fit about it later.

As quickly as she’d arrived, she was gone again— off to draw in the soft dirt with a stick.

Steve had sat up at the commotion, the syrupy, soft smile on his face. “You’re sweet with her.”

“I try to be.” Bucky squinted in the sunlight.

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, turning his expression into something more sullen. Bucky had assumed he’d gone so quiet because he’d wanted a sibling; sometimes wondered what it would have been like to have one. “Do you want kids, Buck? When you’re older?”

(You can read the whole thing here!)

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 23)

Rating: T Warnings: Violence - sadism, murder Pairing: Gin/Ran Part 1: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12 Part 2: Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21 Part 3: Chapter 22, Chapter 23

“They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

What kind of beast are you, Ichimaru Gin?

What are you becoming?

--

--

--

(What could drive a man to kill a god?)

--

Aizen played white. Gin played black. 

He held territory on both corners of the board, but it wasn't enough. He could see the tide beginning to turn against him, white beginning to eat away slowly at his lines. Aizen was closing in. There could be no escape.

The board and the pieces were finer than any he had ever played on. The stones were not, in fact, stones at all, but rather perfectly carved pieces of bleached and blackened lacquered wood. They felt smooth in his hands, hands that had once been rough and calloused from the filthy work of keeping himself alive.

It was quite the step up in the world, he thought idly, to be playing on an actual wooden board, and not some scrap of cloth on which he'd had to draw clumsy lines - and quite something to be actually playing someone who as proving a challenge to beat.

He was going to lose, he realised distantly, and on his first time playing on an actual board as well. He hadn't been playing his best, but it still rankled him to be beaten. He frowned in concentration at the board, and seeing no path to victory, chanced a quick glance up at his opponent.

That was a mistake - Aizen caught his eye and held his look, and there was a glint of casual, entertained cruelty there.

He knows, Gin realised, brows furrowing only slightly. He knows he's got me beat. An’ worse, he knows I know he knows. What does he want? Where do I go from here?

There were four games going on; the game of go, with all its exciting swapping of pieces and setting of traps; the game of minds which had always existed above the game of go, the manipulation above the game at which Gin had always excelled, and then -

Aizen's game. Gin's game.

He’s won the first game, and probably the second. But they don’t matter, he thought with a hard stare. This one does. This matters. I’m beat, but - 

“I forfeit.”

Something dark lit up in Aizen’s eyes, like an ember suddenly come to life in a breeze.

“You’re very good,” he said appreciatively.

Gin shrugged carelessly. “An idiot could have seen it comin’.”

Aizen gaze was dark and his tone mild. “Could they, though?” he murmured. “You’d be surprised at how much an idiot does or does not see. You played well, for what it’s worth. Up to the point where you didn’t.”

The man paused, and he leaned forward.

His eyes were brown, Gin couldn’t help but notice; a warm brown, like honey, like rich wood. There had been a Rukongai girl with eyes like those, once upon a time, and Aizen had killed her. Her essence had faded into the air like tea in hot water.

“Why did you kill the third seat?” Aizen asked, the look in his eyes searching.

A lie came to him easily. It came easily because had it been any other person he had murdered, it might not have been far from the truth.

“Jus’ felt like it,” Gin said simply.

That seemed to entertain Aizen. “Oh?”

“Ain’t no ‘oh’ about it. That’s it. I killed him because I felt like it. Because I was strong. Because he was weak. Because I was bored.” Gin waved a hand abstractly in the air and stretched out.

“And that’s all?”

“Yep. Sounds about right.”

Aizen considered it a while, and then he smiled patiently.

“Are you a beast then, Ichimaru Gin? Is that all you are? A creature that blindly follows its impulses? Nothing but a creature of nature? An animal that eats when its stomach growls, kills when the impulse befalls it, and defecates when its bowls tell it to?”

Is that so far from the truth? Gin wondered.

He let himself fall backwards towards the tatami mat with a delighted laugh. There was still blood on his eyelashes and under his nails.

“I think that’s exactly what I am, Vice-Captain Aizen.” Gin informed the man, grinning. “I see that the armband of yours ain’t just for show.” He rolled over onto his stomach, and let his chin fall into his hands. “Yes. I’m a beast. Let me be a snake,” he said playfully, and the words rang with truth. “Cold of flesh and devoid of heart. My tongue flicks back and forth, always in search of new prey, and if I like what I find…” He caught Aizen’s eye and grinned for him this time. “…I swallow ‘em whole.”

He sighed theatrically. “Poor old Mr Third Seat.” The words rang with menace, and the grin was like a sickle. “Poor, poor third seat. I did like him. Best be careful, Vice-Captain. I might end up take a likin’ to ya’ too.”

Aizen looked down on him, and smiled strangely.

“A snake...” he considered, weighing up the notion. “A snake. Yes. Slithering through the mud on its belly, rising to strike; vicious, poisonous even...” His voice trailed off. “But a small snake yet. Sit back up.”

There was a command as strong as iron in that voice and so Gin dragged himself from where he had been lying. Aizen took a slow, thoughtful sip of his tea.

“You were messy. I can’t help but wonder at that. You were not so far removed from the fifth division barracks that no one would stumble upon you at work. Like a beast indeed, to kill so openly and without thought. Strong, to have bested a third seat. Skilled, to have graduated in only a year. And clever...” He looked down at the go board. “Without a doubt, clever.”

He looked Gin straight in the eye.

“It will be a shame when I tell Hirako what you’ve done.”

Gin’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and he bared his teeth.

“Ah,” Aizen said, a dark gleam in his eye. “Were you labouring under the impression that I wouldn’t turn you in? That we’d play a while and I’d let you go on your merry way? I’m afraid not. They’ll send you to the Maggot’s Nest for this.” He paused. “It will be an absurd waste of talent, don’t you think? Verging on criminal itself. But they must have their justice. And it costs me nothing to give it to them.”

The irony was not lost on Gin as he gritted his teeth. It had been a long shot, he knew, playing to Aizen’s hunger for knowledge, his sense of intrigue, in the hope that he would take him on.

But it was not over yet. Black still had pieces on the board.

“Must they? Why? Why bother?” he asked lazily.

“‘Why bother?’” Aizen said in imitation, a small, victorious smile playing about his lips. “Why am I going to turn you in, you mean?” he said casually. “Because you’ve lying to me, and it would offend me to let you think I hadn’t noticed it from the instant we began this conversation. Trying to lie and failing, for what that’s worth, though you surely must realise that now. I’ll ask once more, and only once: why did you kill the third seat? Lie again and I’ll know.”

Gin was silent for a long moment.

“Well?” Aizen said, triumph in his eyes.

“I-“

Let him see something of the truth. Let him see what kind of beast you really are.

All of a sudden, he felt his muscles relax. He let himself fall forward again onto his forearms, slouching comfortably again on the floor.

“I wasn’t lyin’,” he objected. His voice sounded half a whine, but at least it didn’t tremble. “Got caught up in a passin’ fancy when I saw Mr Third Seat out and about walkin’ so late. But ya’ right, Mr Vice-Captain - very forgetful of me, would forget my own head if it wasn’t stuck on my neck. Missed a bit out of my story, didn’t I?” He paused dramatically, grin back on his face.

“I wanted ya’ to see me, Vice-Captain. Wanted ya’ to see me with your own eyes so that ya’d know what kind of beast ya’ve got on ya’ hands, so that when the moment came and I asked, ya’d know.”

He leant in conspiratorially.

Aizen’s brow darkened. “I’d know what?” He asked dangerously, patience running thin.

“Aah. What a helpful boy I can be.”

Aizen paused a moment, his eyes searching Gin’s face intently.

“You know?” he said, realisation immediate, words fraught.

“Bingo,” Gin said, delighted.

Aizen gaze was soft with menace. “Oh,” he murmured. “But of course you know.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Gin confirmed with a grin.

“And I take it you’ll take no pains to divulge to me how you learned of such things?”

“Ya’ a smart man, Vice-Captain.”

“A smart man would not let you live long, Ichimaru-kun,” Aizen said, and the threat was delivered levelly.

“Maybe, maybe. But there’s more than one way to gut a pig if ya’ a creative sort, and I think ya’ know that.”

Aizen leant back and considered him in silence. His chestnut hair hung about his face and his glasses gleamed in the lamp light. He made no move to speak further. It was a dangerous silence flung at him.

Gin shifted impatiently where he sat.

“I want in,” he said bluntly. “Don’t throw away a tool ya’ can use, Vice-Captain. Mr Third Seat wasn’t even third rate. He was trash. His guts were on the floor before he even thought ta’ suspect me. He was shit on someone’s boot. You want me quiet, then keep me quiet – but I think ya’ve got more about ya’ than to resort to somethin’ as borin’ as killin’ me, not when ya’ could try me out.”

Aizen’s silence was heavy and threatening.

Nothing from him. Nothing at all.

Let him see something of the truth. Let him see what kind of beast you are.

“They’re weak,” Gin said suddenly. “All of them. Worse than weak. They prate and they shuffle about to do your biddin’ and they bleat “Aizen-sama, Aizen-sama” like sheep. When they kill, they don’t kill for you. They don’t even kill for themselves. They do it because they’re nothin’ and they want to be somethin’ so badly and they’re so – so small that they can’t even grasp the kind of something they want to be, how pathetic what they desire is, how little they know how to become it. They’re so pathetic that they’re not even worth hatin’. They’re just… Nothin’. I don’t understand that. I’ll never be nothin’.”

It took Aizen long moments to speak. An expression began to pull at his lips. His smile was slow and predatory - and yet something of an alien humour danced in his eyes.

There was nothing gentle about the look. Gin had never seen its like before, and had he no knowledge of the man, he might have called it a kind of respect.

Riding high for a moment, he did not anticipate the question that came next.

“Nothing? Really? If they’re all so small, then why do you kill them, Gin? If they’re nothing at all, then why bother? Why even notice them? If they’re so small... Why do you do what you do?” Aizen asked softly.

He’d said too much and realised it a second too late. Panic began to creep up his gorge and sweat pricked at his skin.

Because that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? The suffering he inflicted – what it revealed – it was interesting. It was fun. They... were fun.

But no one else could know that. They would kill him if they knew.

The question pried at places that were too secret, too intimate to see the light of day– warm, dark places into which light had never shone, places so murky that they would swallow up the light. He had never before let himself be uncovered as blatantly as this, allowed himself to be so exposed - not to someone he then hadn’t gone on to kill.

There had been one time – a time long ago – when he had killed four men in town and had trudged back to Rangiku doused in their blood and smelling of their burnt flesh. It had ruined his yukata and the blood had settled into his shoes, never to be washed out. He had trembled to think of what she might say to him, certain that she would leave. She hadn’t.

But she hadn’t acknowledged the truth either.

Here and now, the question could not be avoided. Not if he wanted to see her again. Not if he wanted to make her whole again.

The price of tangling with the devil had always been to stake your soul. He knew, down in his gut, that he could never have expected to escape unscathed. But for a moment, he let resentment boil up in him.

For a moment, it was aimed at her too.

“What I-“ he stopped, and he drew in a deep measured breath. He found that despite his immense self-control, he could not keep looking Aizen in the eye. When he found the breath to speak again, his voice was low. “When I kill I – I see somethin’ true. In their eye. Ya’ see them dance. Ya’ see the truth they’re always hidin’.”

Aizen’s expression was warm. It was appreciative. The hair on Gin’s arms raised in a shiver of disgust. “That was the most honest thing you’ve told me all evening, Gin,” he murmured. “I appreciate your honesty. Truly.”

He rose slowly from where he sat and moved to look at the moon still hanging overhead in the sky, bloated and corpulent like fruit gone foul.

“Mutual bondage in co-conspiracy, you and I,” Aizen said slowly. His voice was low and rich. “No detail that you could divulge for fear that it would stick to you too. For every finger I drag through the dirt, a corresponding trace on your fingers; a stain for every stain of my own. An elegant, symmetrical solution. You know that your age will stand as no defence were you to betray me, and you know that I know where the bodies are buried.”

Aizen turned to him, and Gin knew suddenly that the wage had been deemed paid.

(Everything that happens now happens because you made it that way.)

Black was still on the board.

“The position is yours. We start again tomorrow.” Aizen smiled. “I look forward to working with you, Gin.”

---

And just like so, he became a shinigami and apprentice to Aizen Sosuke.

And for a time – the first time, in fact – Matsumoto Rangiku began to fall slowly from his mind.

---

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Can I request an imagine :3 where the joker has been coming in and out of readers apartment and he realizes how much he actually likes her or cares when he gets jealous?

Hey there, anon!! Your request has been a long time coming and I’m really sorry it took so long! 😭 I hope you see this and I really hope you enjoy!! I was feeling creative with this one 💖

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, J is a bit of a bastard followed by some ✨fluff✨

Word count: 3,400

Warnings: theft, cursing, J being an ass (as per usual)

With Him

How you’d even gotten yourself into all of this, you could barely remember by now. Gotham wasn’t a normal city. Whatever “normal” means. It was rough around more than just the edges, crowded, dirty, corrupt, and downright dangerous. But it was home. You did what you did to get by. And if that happened to be stealing and reselling whatever you could find, so be it. Life was kind to no one here. Except maybe Bruce Wayne. But you weren’t Bruce Wayne so here you were, working as a waitress at a late-night diner who happened to start stealing for the Joker on the side.

You’d gotten good at it, too. You started with wallets. They were so easily snatched from coat pockets at the diner, emptied of their cash, then slipped back in with none the wiser. It started out of necessity to pay your bills but the thrill of it only pushed you to keep going. Eventually you’d become fairly well known among the criminal community for your ability to get your hands on things. It’s been a few years now and you’ve since graduated to emptying trucks instead of emptying wallets. Why shouldn’t you? There’s no such thing as being “fair” in Gotham, you have to go out and get things yourself. And of course, you’d heard of him before he sought out your “services”.

You certainly didn’t expect how you’d reacted to meeting him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him the entire time. Watching him talk, blink, move in that way he does, like he’s twitchy and erratic but in such a smooth and fluid way. It was confusing. Your belly felt warm and your cheeks flushed hot whenever he called you one of his nicknames. It was an unmistakable arousal. It was frustrating. You stuffed those feelings down deep in an effort to ignore them, but that was becoming more and more difficult. He started hiding at your apartment regularly. He said you owed him a favor even since you failed to get ahold of some C4 from a mining shipment, but he let you keep his payment anyway. Why he did that and didn’t just take his money back, you couldn’t guess. If you tried to guess, it only got your hopes up. Maybe he did it on purpose, just to stay closer to you.

Over and over, it would happen. Joker would knock on your window, you’d let him in, then you awkwardly tried to go on about your business while he either sewed up a hole in his clothes or in himself. The warmth in your belly only got worse. He often helped himself to whatever was in your kitchen, too. You’d eye his forearms when he rolled up his shirt sleeves, leaving his coat and jacket tossed onto your couch to rifle through your cabinets. As soon as his gaze came back in your direction, you’d avert your eyes and scurry out of the room, cursing yourself as soon as you were out of ear shot. Eventually, he’d leave, and the cycle started over. He was quiet at first. Then he must have started to enjoy how clearly flustered he made you just by simply being in the same room.

“AH! Jesus, fuck!!”

“Mmm color-ful language, doll,” he purred.

He’d been standing directly behind you while you washed your hands in the kitchen sink, lost in your thoughts, so you’d bump into him when you turned around, suddenly standing with your nose at his chin. Your face felt like it was on fire. You’d never stood this close to him before. Heat seemed to just radiate off of him, making your cheeks burn even hotter. He smelled like greasepaint and something a little sweet and sharp, like shaving cream.

“Well, ‘scuse me. Didn’t know you were so jumpy.”

Your hand was flat against your chest while you tried to catch your breath. He had to be doing this on purpose, just to get a rise out of you. Anger twinged in your stomach and you spoke before you could think better of what you were going to say.

“I’m not your plaything, you know!” you snapped back at him.

His eyebrows shot up and a little smirk gave way to a burst of giggles. “You’re not? Doll, I’m hurt! I thought we had somethin’, uh, special.”

His deep tone of voice at the end of his sentence sent a shiver down your spine. You knew he was toying with you, he had to be, but you couldn’t stop the inevitable tingle you felt whenever he spoke. That almost made you angrier. Why couldn’t you control yourself? You remained silent and tried to hide how rattled you were becoming by looking down at the floor. Avoiding eye contact was all you could do.

“I’ve got another job for ya. Another shipment of explosives to the mine,” he said, suddenly changing the subject. “A truck goin’ through Port Adams in three days. All I need is a, uh, few bags of ANFO. Name your price.”

He hadn’t moved, he was still standing so close to you, your back against the sink. Your eyes, apparently of their own volition, shifted to meet his. He was so close, you could see their color, the black paint usually makes it difficult to see. They’re brown. Sweat collected on your palms and your quickening pulse sent a rush of blood to your head. Through the fog collecting in your brain, you tried to think.

Taking a breath, you answered quietly, “Five hundred.”

Joker rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and pretended to consider your price. Now you couldn’t look away from his scars. Your fingers itched to know what they felt like. Are they rough or are they soft? Are they on the inside of his mouth too? Your heart jumped into your throat when you thought about what it would feel like to kiss him.

“A’right, deal,” he replied, breaking you out of your trance.

Then he stepped away, leaving the air around you feeling cold. Then he casually walked over to your couch and flopped down onto the cushions, lifting his feet to rest his heels on the coffee table, his ankles crossed. You blinked, expecting him to not be there, like none of that just happened. He laid his head back and laced his fingers together over his stomach, acting like it didn’t. You just stood in the kitchen and watched him close his eyes.

“Are… are you staying here tonight?” you asked.

His eyes still closed, he answered, “Mmm I think I will.”

“Um… ok.”

You couldn’t seem to leave the room. Your feet didn’t want to carry you back down the hall to your bedroom, so you continued to stand and watch him. Joker really didn’t seem to mind. His breathing soon became slower and steadier as he sank deeper into the couch. Then your feet started to sneak forward to tip toe toward your small living room in front of you.

“Joker?” you asked quietly.

He didn’t answer. All you could hear was the soft sound of his breath. He was asleep. Suddenly you felt nervous. What do you do now? Is he a light sleeper? What’ll happen if you wake him up?

You reached the end of the couch and stopped. It was strange, seeing him asleep. You knew he had to sleep sometimes but you’d never though about what he’d look like when he did. He looked kind of funny. The clothes and the paint, they made him look something like a statue. And this had to be the longest you’d ever seen him be still. His expression and his features were softened, so different from how he usually looked. Your eyes wandered his face until they reached his scars. Now you could really look at them.

The one in his left cheek was a bit straighter, making a line from the corner of his mouth, halfway up his cheek at a slight angle. It looked really deep and jagged, the skin dipping inward showing how violent the wound that created it was. The one on the right was cleaner, though. Like something much sharper left if behind. It formed a more precise curve, more like a smile. It was hard to imagine what his face looked like without them. You wondered how long ago he got them and if they’d happened at the same time or separately. That’s exactly what he wanted, though. He wanted people to guess, to wonder, so he could dangle that tantalizing mystery in front of their faces. He wanted to keep his secret. What good is a mystery if everyone knows the truth? Afterall, truth never really is stranger than fiction.

You fought your urge to get closer. It was like he let himself fall asleep there to tempt you on purpose. Maybe he was pretending. Maybe he was going to jump up and grab you when you got close. The thought jostled the butterflies in your stomach and you quickly turned to go down the hall. You told him you weren’t his plaything.

The next morning, he was gone, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The question wouldn’t leave your head all night. Why did he get so close to you? He’d never done anything like that before. Was it to intimidate you? Or was it some sort of test? Just to see what you’d do. He left you wondering, just like everybody else.

After busying yourself with random tasks, glancing at where he’d been asleep on your couch more often than you wanted to admit, you decided to try to move on. You said you weren’t his plaything. Well, you were still letting him get to you like you were. You couldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Putting on your coat, you searched for you keys to go out for a walk. Maybe some fresh air would help.

Sometimes Gotham was pretty. Hard to believe but if you went to North City Park in November, the trees were bright orange and often you’d see ducks paddling peacefully on the pond. Today there were even other people out for a stroll. You walked in the same park, but you still felt disconnected from them. They looked different, dressed like they had somewhere important to be. They probably worked in the office building nearby. For a brief moment, you wished you weren’t some girl from Burnley. It was like your proximity to the Narrows kept you chained to it, cursed to be stuck in its shadows with no way to step into the light. You imagined yourself as some prestigious lawyer or CEO. Would you be happy? No. You wouldn’t. That didn’t sound like home. You always thought you were burdened by the place you were from, living among the dark alleys and neon signs. But you honestly didn’t want anything else. Maybe that’s what drew you to him. He was almost the embodiment of that life. You didn’t have to live by the same rules as them.

“Hey darlin’, can I walk ya home?”

On your way back from the subway station, you turned around to see your new neighbor from across the hall walking toward you, his hands in his pockets. What was his name again? Rob?

“Oh! Uh… sure,” you answered, still trying to remember his name. His familiarity with you was a bit off-putting but you weren’t really in a situation to say no. You’ve learned the pay attention to where people kept their hands. And it was getting dark.

He grinned and said, “Great!”

You forced an awkward smile back and turned to walk down the block toward your building. The thought of meeting other people hadn’t really occurred to you until now. You’d been too wrapped up in your own thoughts of having Joker around. You’d kind of forgotten how to act around other people. You subconsciously put your hands in your own pockets and tried to think of something to say.

“So, you work nights?” he suddenly asked.

You blinked at the sidewalk you’d been staring at and stumbled to answer, “Oh um, well, yeah most of the time.”

He nodded and replied, “Yeah I figured. I hear you getting home pretty late a lot.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach so fast it almost knocked the wind out of you. What were you supposed to say to that? You looked ahead to see your building just a half block away and felt some relief wash over you.

“Uh yeah… Sorry if I make too much noise.”

“It’s all good!”

Forced conversation was never something you were good at. Your mind just went blank and you could never think of anything to say. So, you walked in silence, keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“Hey, if you wanna get a drink sometime, let me know, eh?” he asked as you opened the lobby door.

Your stomach sank once again, and you quickly tried to come up with an excuse. “Well, I… I don’t, uh, I don’t drink.”

His smile fell a little and he nodded. Maybe he was finally getting the picture. You were far less interested in him than he was in you. But you couldn’t just say that, could you?

“A’right, well, good night! Let me know if you change your mind.”

You nodded back, putting your key in your door to turn the lock and answered, “Yeah… I, uh, I will.”

Shutting your door behind you, you sighed and leaned against it. Nope, meeting new people isn’t all its chalked up to be. Blinking away the tension in your brow, you stepped away from the door to shed your coat and hang it on the hook on the wall. As much as you hated to admit it, you wished he were here. Joker was far more interesting than anyone you’ve ever met, by far. He made you nervous. But not like your neighbor, this was different. You probably should be more afraid of him than you felt you were. But the way he pushes you, eggs you on, it chases away all of your instincts, all trepidation, and beckons you closer. You wanted him to do it again. The racing of your heart, the rising heat burning your skin while he stood over you like that. Your stomach fluttered just thinking about it.

After getting something to drink, you sat down on the couch. After a moment you realized you’d sat in the spot where he slept last night. You could swear it was still warm. Then your eyelids started to feel heavy. A prickle of drowsiness burned your eyelids and you rubbed them before laying back against the cushions, letting them drop closed. The dreamy embrace of sleep wrapped itself around you and you surrendered to it, letting it carry you away into the darkness behind your eyelids. It felt like all sound was blocked from your ears, silenced by the warm cloud surrounding you. But then you heard something. Something quiet, like a soft tapping. It was like it was real, but also not real. Was the sound actually there or were you just imagining it? The thought pulled you from sleep’s embrace and consciousness rushed over you, forcing your eyes open. And there he was, his painted face looking right at you. A startled gasp ripped your mouth open and your whole body flinched, practically jumping out of your skin.

“Really are a jump-y one aren’t ya?”

You panted and tried to slow your racing pulse, your heart thudding against your ribs while your mind processed what you were seeing. He was sitting on the coffee table, hunched forward to look at you. You wanted to yell, demand why did he did this to you again, but you stopped yourself. He’d never snuck in here like this before.

“How’d you get in here?” you asked breathlessly.

He smirked slightly and rolled his eyes toward the window before answering, “Y’know I’ve never, uh, needed to be let in, sweets.”

You blinked at him, not sure what to say, your brain was too saturated with adrenaline. Then you realized what he meant.

“Have you done this before? Sneaking in here and watching me?”

The question made your cheeks flush. You bit down hard on your lip, immediately regretting asking it.

“No. C’mon, doll. Who d’you think I am, hm?” he said, still looking right at your face.

“Ok… well… what are you doing here then?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. He just kept looking at you. Then he licked his lips and said plainly, “Guess.”

You were confused to say the least, but he seemed serious. “Um… you need a place to crash?”

“No-pe.” He made a circular motion with his finger, gesturing for you to guess again.

Your mouth was dry, but you managed to swallow and asked, “You’re… hungry?”

He looked up toward the ceiling and shrugged a little before shaking his head. “Mmm well, yeah, but that isn’t why I’m here.”

You tried not to crack a smile as you then shrugged your own shoulders and shook your head. You really had no idea. He was acting strange. Sort of… playful. He was quiet for a moment, licking at the inside of his scars as he took a breath.

“Don’t like that neigh-bor of yours, do ya?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Your eyes widened and you blurted out, “You were watching me??”

He held his hands up and replied, “Relax, doll. I wasn’t watchin’ ya. I was watchin’ him.” When you only returned a confused stare he continued, “Rob over there works for Johnny law. Undercover. Well, not anymore, I guess.”

He giggled when your eyes got wider. “How d’you know that?” you asked quietly.

“I got a lead that mister, uh, Serpico fancied himself a mole for the Gotham PD. Took it upon himself to find the cops I had on the hook, mmm well un-der my employ, to turn ‘em in. He moved in across the hall from you, I figured he planned to use you to do it.”

By now you were staring back at him with your mouth open. His ability to get information and stay two steps ahead of everyone was never short of astonishing.

“Why tell me all of that?”

He paused again and tightened his lips before answering, “Didn’t like seein’ you with him.”

His words made your heart suddenly flutter. What does that mean? He didn’t like seeing you with another man? Like he’s… jealous? Your cheeks promptly grew hot and both of you just stared at each other in silence.

“D’you mean… around another man?” you finally uttered.

“Mmm, you could say that.”

You blinked at each other for a moment, then before you could say anything else, he pulled you up from the couch and onto his lap, bringing you nose to nose with him. He stopped and held you there by your upper arms, scanning your face with his eyes. You gasped but then your startled gaze softened, and you felt incredibly warm. You didn’t feel afraid, only a warmth spreading through your chest while he stared at you. Your hands slowly reached for his coat to take hold of the lapels while your breath became heavier, washing over his face. Then his eyes lowered to look at your lips.

After a moment, he leaned in even closer so that his lips brushed against yours. Your breath hitched and your fingers tightened their grip on his coat while your heart soared. You could feel his lips pull into a smile before they parted to take hold of yours. It was like a rush of excitement ran through every nerve as your mouth melded with his and you kissed him back. His hands slid behind your back to pull you closer, humming against your lips while he relished the way you taste. Your senses were immersed in him, his scent, his taste, his touch. His scars, they grazed your cheeks, enhancing the way his mouth felt pressed into yours. It was as if you were coming back down to earth when your lips separated. Your eyes slowly opened to see him silently staring at you with a smirk, licking his lips.

“Mmmhm. Perfect,” he purred before leaning in to capture your mouth again.

Taglist! @youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns @jslittlebirdie @torixcarterr

[daveeddiggsit]

The Plan

WIDEOUT MASTERLIST

Series: WIDEOUT (chpt viii)

Note: Thank you @braidedchallah for proofreading. Reminder — before you kill me — there is one chapter left (and an epilogue). Keep that in mind. Enjoy. Feel free to yell at me afterwards. If you’re reading this, I’m sorry for what you’re about to experience.

Word Count: 12.2k

Pairing: Football Player!Thomas Jefferson x Tutor!Reader

Warnings: angst. possible breakup. perhaps some crying. implied sex (more than once). thom being a perfect boyfriend. thom looking fine af in denim (i’m trash).

Summary: Goodbyes are hard.

Tags: @coololdsoulpoetlove @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @lilangeldevil006 @pana-ce-a @merrahonthawall @katierpblogg @thespianbooks @a-hopeless-fan @uniquelystarchildthedragon @wcreech @sabbrriiinnaa @imperial-martian @harpersmariano @icanneverbesatisfied @underthewillowtreerycb @i-know-i-can @astralaffairs @braidedchallah​ (if i forgot anyone i apologize, just lemme know for next time)

As one of the smartest kids in your graduating class, you have a certain reputation to uphold. Maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA isn’t easy, which means that you have to choose all the right answers and make all the right decisions. 

As it turns out, you seem to be pretty good at that. Being right about a lot of things, academic or not, seems to come naturally to you. Especially when it comes to a certain curly-haired athlete who also happens to be your boyfriend of over a year.

You had been right when you told him that he would recover from his ankle injury on the night it happened. Well, you can’t be entirely sure of that yet since he’s still not clear to engage in full-action sports, but it’s incredibly clear that he’s well on his way to recovering fully.

Almost exactly seven weeks after the incident, he’d gotten his cast removed and replaced with a boot so that he could put weight on his ankle again. Since then, he’s been in physical therapy almost daily in order to make sure that he’s healing the right way. According to him, he’s progressing well every week and is slowly regaining his mobility, strength, and speed. Just two weeks ago he ditched the boot so that he could finally put on a pair of shoes; you remember the grin on his face when he gave you a little dance to show off the new kicks he’d gotten as celebration.

He’s not 100% healthy yet, and he certainly won’t be back on the field (or track) for another couple months until he’s clear to practice, but you’re proud that he’s been able to recover as much as he has in relatively so little time.

On the night of his injury, you’d also been right about another thing: the fact that Thomas would receive college offers.

And that’s what you’re celebrating today.

After weeks and weeks of advocating for himself and sending his player reel and personal letters to the head coaches of schools he wanted to attend, he finally got an offer from one of his top college choices: the University of Virginia.

While their football team isn’t the most notable in the nation, their program is one of the best in the state of Virginia at a Division I level, and that’s pretty much all Thomas wants. After he recovers fully, Thomas will make an excellent asset to the team since one of their starting wide receivers is entering the NFL Draft after this year. 

At UVA, Thomas would get the play time he needs to shine and show his true colors and talent as a wide receiver all while having a coaching staff there to support him and his every need. Their academic program for liberal arts is also something Thomas has been looking at in a school since he plans on majoring in English.

With all of that said, the Jefferson household decides to host a special dinner for their son in celebration of the wonderful news. 

And while under normal circumstances, you would feel happy and excited for your boyfriend and his amazing accomplishment, instead you have a voice that lingers in the back of your mind reminding you of the similar news you had received just a week prior.

Thomas isn’t the only one with a huge scholarship offer.

After applying to many different schools with somewhat notable engineering programs in-state (because let’s be real, out-of-state tuition is absurdly expensive), you’ve received only a few grants from NYU and Syracuse University, but it isn’t enough to cover all of tuition.

But when you’d received an email last week from the one out-of-state school you had applied to last minute, your heart had just about dropped from your chest.

UCLA is offering you a full-ride.

You should be happy that you have an incredible offer. You should be elated for Thomas with his scholarship offer, too. However, you can’t help but feel a looming sense of stress every time you think about telling him.

That���s why you haven’t told him yet; it’s been nine days.

“Y/N?”

Thomas’ voice snaps you out of your thoughts and suddenly you are brought back to reality. You’re dressed up and sitting at the dinner table with Thomas across from his parents. The menu of the night consists of a couple different French dishes that his mother had learned to make a few years back when they visited Paris for an entire summer. His mother’s rendition of the food is nothing short of amazing.

Your eyes meet the warm brown ones that belong to your boyfriend as you turn your head to glance at him next to you. “Hmm?”

”You didn’t hear anythin’ I said, did you?” Thomas chuckles, biting his lip as he watches you put on a guilty simper.

“No, sorry.” You breathe out a small laugh in order to cover up your underlying nervousness. “I zoned out for a minute there. What were you saying?” 

“Well, I’m arguin’ a case here. Technically, a hot dog — a piece of meat held together by two pieces of bread - is a sandwich, right? In simple terms and by definition this should be true, so don’t overthink it. My dad keeps saying it’s not, but please, Y/N, you gotta side with me this time.”

You take a breath in and click your tongue. “I don’t know, Peter, I think I gotta go with Thom on this one.”

“Yes!” Thomas celebrates, throwing his arms up dramatically. “I told you!”

Mr. Jefferson’s mouth drops at your response. “How dare you take his side. Did all those other times teaming up at dinner and making fun of him mean nothing to you?”

If it hadn’t been evident prior to this moment where Thomas gets his overdramatics from, then it’s certainly clear now.

“Case closed.” Thomas smirks, crossing his arms, proud of himself.

“What are you talking about? The case is far from closed.” His father retorts, splaying his arms out, causing Thomas’ mom to speak out. 

“Hey, calm down, you two. You’re gonna make a mess if you keep on bangin’ the table like that.” She chastises them. They both mutter their apologies before Thomas’ father continues on defending himself.

“Y/N, why’d you choose his side? You know I’m right. Don’t let that boy guilt trip you; he’s still gonna love you if you disagree with him.”

“Sorry, Peter.” You shrug, sneaking a glance at Thomas who’s watching you with a glint in his eyes. “As much as I don’t want to agree with your son on this one, I unfortunately do.”

Thomas pauses to narrow his eyes as you in puzzled manor. “‘Unfortunately?’ Your words wound me, sweetheart, really.” He says in a teasing tone before his smile turns smug as he directs his attention towards his father. “But you see, Dad? It’s 2 against 1. ‘M sorry to say, but your opinion is overruled.”

Mr. Jefferson waves his son off dismissively. “That’s horseshit; your mother hasn’t sided with anyone yet. We still have one more vote to count.”

“Language, Peter.” The woman in question warns, giving him a look that’s only half serious.

“Well, honey? You agree with me, don’t you?” Peter asks his wife with pleading eyes, causing her to roll hers.

“Sure, sweetie.”

You shake your head and smile, leaning back in your chair to watch the antics unfold.

“What? Ma, why you takin’ his side?” Thomas jumps in. “I’m supposed to be your favorite, you know.”

“Of course you’re my favorite; you’re my only child, Thomas.” His mother deadpans, causing Thomas to frown.

It’s Peter’s turn now to smirk at Thomas and you. “See? Now we’re tied. Opinion very much not overruled, thank you.”

“Wait, what was your side of the argument again?” Mrs. Jefferson asks her husband. “You said a hot dog is a sandwich, right?”

“No, that’s what I said.” Thomas interjects.

“Oh, well then I agree with Thomas.”

“Ha!” Your boyfriend exclaims, pointing at his dad. “I told you! Your opinion is not valid. Hot dogs are sandwiches. End of story.”

“They are not sandwiches! They are a different entity. How can you compare a ham and cheese to a weiner between two buns? Well I’ll tell you. You can’t!”

“For the last time, Dad. It’s a piece of meat in between two pieces of bread. That is classified as what? A sandwich!”

“With that logic, you’d say that a burger is a sandwich, too?”

“Yup.”

“There is somethin’ wrong with y’all.” Peter shakes his head, picking at the leftover food on his plate. “I thought I raised you better, T. Y/N, I expected you to take my side on this one.”

“Sorry, Mr. J.” You shrug. “Tommy’s right. A piece of meat in between two pieces of bread does indeed technically classify it as a sandwich.”

“Y’all got me thinkin’ that I’m the crazy one now.” Peter sighs defeatedly.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that nonsense.” Thomas’ mother chuckles, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “Thomas, honey, your father and I are very proud of you and are excited for your opportunity at UVA.”

“Thanks, Ma.” Thomas grins. “I’m excited, too.”

Under the table, Thomas’ hand finds yours and laces your fingers together. Its warmth is comforting and the small moment makes you forget about everything for just a moment. A small silence stretches on for a bit before Peter speaks up.

“So, Y/N, how are your college applications going? Have you gotten any scholarships yet? I feel like you’re too smart to not get anything.”

Your stomach drops at the question. You really hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like this, and while it is a simple question that you should be able to answer quickly… you don’t. You hesitate and Thomas notices. 

You want to tell the truth, you really do, but you can’t. This is Thomas’ night to celebrate and the last thing you want to do is mess it up with news that you’d be going to school across the country. Tonight is supposed to be about him, not you.

So you lie.

“Oh, um, no, not yet.” You chuckle nervously. The hand holding Thomas’ fidgets slightly and he squeezes lightly to try and help calm your nerves. “I mean, I’ve gotten into NYU and Syracuse so far. Still waiting to hear from Columbia. I haven’t heard much as far as scholarships, though, unfortunately. I’ve received a few grants here and there, but nothing too big.”

“Columbia, wow. What’s their acceptance rate? 10%?” Mrs. Jefferson asks, seemingly interested.

“6%.” Thomas jumps in to answer before glancing at you with a small smile. “I don’t think Y/N will have any trouble getting in, though.”

You send him the biggest smile you can muster, though you feel like it sort of comes out as a grimace. “Thanks, T.” You say softly.

Beat.

“What time is it? I think it’s past my bedtime.” Peter yawns, checking his watch. “10 o’clock? Where did the time go? Y/N, are you going to be okay driving home this late?”

“It’s not that late, Mr. Jefferson. I should be fine.” You’ve definitely driven home from Thomas’ place past 10pm before (multiple times), but you’re not telling him that. “I do think I should probably leave soon, though.”

“You wanna go get your things upstairs, then I can walk you out?” Thomas asks you with a mischievous look in his eye. Knowing him, he probably just wants to get you alone for a bit before you leave. Even through your nervousness to tell him the truth, you can’t deny his charm.

“Yeah, that sounds good, Tommy.”

Then, both you and Thomas excuse yourselves from the table. You make sure to thank Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson for dinner and the invite. You’re always honored to be included in their family events even if it’s something as small as dinner on a Friday night.

When you make it up to Thomas’ room, he doesn’t waste another moment before he kisses you softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek after he gently shuts the door.

“Been waitin’ to do that all night.” He grins afterwards, softly brushing over the skin of your cheek with his thumb.

You smile as you bring your hands up to his shoulders, wordlessly leaning forward to sweetly press your lips to his again.

“Missed you.” He mumbles as he pulls away to lean his forehead against yours. “Feel like we haven’t been seeing a lot of each other lately.”

He’s right. With both of you not having any classes together this year, you both worried about college applications, Thomas not in football season anymore and in and out of PT almost constantly, you two haven’t been seeing each other as much as you’d like. Another reason why you haven’t been able to tell Thomas about UCLA (aside from the fact that you simply don’t have the guts to do it).

“I know.” You sigh, looking off to the side for a second. “I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault. We’ve both been busy.”

“Yeah, but still.” You say softly. “Feels bad. I miss you.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’m right here, baby. Don’t need to go far.”

You smile haphazardly and roll your eyes as you bring your hand up to the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. Who knows how many more of these you’ll get before you both graduate and have to go your separate ways.

Before it can go too far, you pull away again.

“T?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m so proud of you.” You say genuinely because you really want him to know. You feel like you don’t tell him enough (even though that’s not the case).  “Really, I am. You deserve that scholarship and so much more.”

“Thanks, love.” He murmurs while a soft smile adorns his face. “Hey, if none of these in-state schools give you anything, I think you’d have a good chance at getting something at UVA. They have an honors college that gives up a ton of grants and shit, you should look into it. I’m not sure if the applications are still open, but worth a try.”

You purse your lips before you give him your response. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

“I’m sure you’ll get something anyway, but just wanted to bring that up and let you know.”

“Appreciate the thought, Thom.”

Thomas grins, giving you one last peck on the lips before finally turning away to remove his overcoat. He double takes when he sees your face drop slightly. His eyebrows furrow as he notices your mood shift. “Hey, what’s wrong? Somethin’ botherin’ you? Not gonna lie, you’ve been a little off all night, sweetheart...”

You hesitate, not able to look him in the eye, the guilt eating you alive. The pressure of holding everything in is building up and while Thomas is normally your rock, the one you can go to for anything, you can’t this time, and you can feel it wearing you down.

You take in a shaky deep breath before you go to sit down on his bed, eyes cast towards the ground. “I’m okay, T, I’m just… stressed. With school.” You say, finally willing yourself to look up into his caring gaze. It hurts to lie to him, but you keep telling yourself that it’s his night.

“You sure?” He asks, taking a seat next to you to gently grab your hand in his. “Seriously, baby, I know when somethin’s up. What’s on that brilliant mind of yours, huh?” He lightly bumps his shoulder against yours in a teasing gesture, causing you to let out a half-hearted chuckle. He always knows how to get a laugh out of you, doesn’t he? “I know you’re worried about more than that stats test you have next week. Tell me what’s really botherin’ you.” He says softly, catching your gaze again.

Sighing once more, you tear your eyes away from his pleading ones. “I um…” You trail off after trying and failing to come up with another lie or excuse. 

Thomas always draws your worries and frustrations out of you; he knows you so well to the point where he knows exactly what to say to convince you to tell him something. Honesty has never been a problem in your relationship, and the last thing you want is to push it to a point of no return. You already feel terrible for withholding the truth; you want to be free from this secret you’ve been holding.

And suddenly seven words echo in your head:

“Tell him. He’ll understand. He loves you.”

Your eyes flit back up to meet his concerned gaze. Here it goes.

“I did get a scholarship. All tuition and expenses paid. I got the email a week and a half ago and I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen at the confession, taken aback by how big the news is.

“Holy shit, Y/N, that’s… that’s amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you. Not surprised, but proud nonetheless.” He says genuinely, a smile evident on his face before it drops slightly. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?” There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Wait, why’d you lie at dinner when my dad asked?”

You give him a sad smile before you look away again, fidgeting with your fingers on the hand that Thomas isn’t holding. “I didn’t want to take over your night, T. And I didn’t tell you when I found out because… the school’s in Cali.” You say, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

He cocks his head to the side slightly, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I thought you only applied to schools in-state.”

You shake your head, pursing your lips before you respond. “That’s what I had planned originally, but my advisor pushed me to apply for this scholarship program at UCLA and… well, I got in.”

Thomas goes silent for a few moments as he looks off to the side, breathing deeply. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling. Then, he lets out a low whistle. “Full-ride to UCLA, huh?” He says softly before he turns to look at you. 

“Thomas…” You start, your voice soft and full of worry, but he continues to talk.

“Are you going to accept it?” He asks and you nod slowly. 

Ideally, you have no other real choice; by going to UCLA you’d graduate with zero debt. And with UCLA’s engineering program and opportunities that other schools can’t fulfill, it fills all the boxes you want in a university.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Really. I’m glad they recognize how amazing you are.” The tone in Thomas’ voice is fond and he’s absolutely sure of the words he’s saying. “It’s far away, I know, but we can make it work.” 

The emotions in his eyes are conflicting, but they still hold unrelenting love and support in them. When you hesitate to respond, his eyes search yours, trying to find some sort of answer in them, but before he can decipher anything, you tear your gaze from his.

“Right?” He asks as his grip on your palm loosens until your hand falls back into your lap, the warmth from Thomas’ fingers completely vanished. “Baby, talk to me. Please.”

“Thom, I… I want to think that but I’m not sure.” You admit quietly, and having said that, you can see something in Thomas’ composure crumble.

He shakes his head. “Nah, don’t you say that. We can make this work, Y/N.” His voice wavers slightly as he stands up and runs a hand over his curls, smoothing them back and away from his face. “I haven’t accepted the offer at UVA. I can decline and apply to UCLA—”

“T, I’m not going to ask you to do that—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to ask me, love. I’m willing to do this all on my own. Like I said, we can make this work. I’ll improvise. My parents can afford it, then I can just join the football team as a walk-on. I’m confident I’ll make it. Since they didn’t give me an offer I’ll prove them wrong and be the best damn walk-on they ever had.”

“Thomas, don’t—”

“I can also have my dad send the head coach a letter. I didn’t wanna pull that for any other schools because I wanted to earn all my offers — and because of the whole nepotism thing — but I’ll make an exception for—”

“Thomas, please!” You raise your voice and when he finally stops, you immediately regret it. You’ve never raised your voice like that with him before and doing so right now feels terrible. 

“Please, T, just stop. I don’t want you to do any of that for me. How long have you been waiting for UVA to give you a chance? How many letters have you personally written to Coach Michaels, begging him to consider you for one of their open receiver positions?”

Thomas is silent as you speak, knowing full well that you have a point. You continue.

“You’ve been set on UVA as your top school for a couple months now. Don’t forget how hyped you were when you finally got the offer this morning. And now you want to just throw that away? No. I’m sorry, Thom, but I am not going to be the one to take it away from you.”

“You’re not.” He says earnestly. “Taking it away from me, I mean. I want to do this for you. For us. UCLA has a good football program, too, all I have to do is pull some strings if you’ll let me.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay, well I’m not letting you do that. Thomas, it’s not as easy as you’re making it seem. Think about this, okay? Think about yourself and your football career and all the opportunities that you’ll have for yourself down in Virginia. Don’t let me get in the way of that! I don’t want each of us to be an obstacle in each other’s successes.”

Thomas gives you an incredulous look and stills himself. “Are you serious? Is that what you consider our relationship? An obstacle?”

You look away, sighing. “No, T, I… I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.”

“No, Y/N. I don’t know that.” He looks at you with a distressed gaze, all traces of comfort and playfulness gone and replaced with hurt… caused by you — something you never would have thought you’d see in his eyes. 

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Today’s supposed to be your day.”

“Let me get one thing straight, Y/N. Our relationship is not an obstacle… it never has been and it never will be.” Thomas says coldly and you cringe when he calls you by your full name in a tone that’s less than friendly.

“I just don’t want our love for each other to get in the way of…” You trail off, but decide against speaking mid-sentence. “You know what, nevermind.”

“Get in the way of what?”

“Thomas,” you start, making eye contact with him once again. “I don’t want to get in the way of your football career. It’s unfair; I can’t do that to you, T. You deserve to make the most of your career in college so that you can make it to the NFL. That’s your dream, right? To play in the NFL for the New York Giants like your father did. Am I right?”

His jaw clenches slightly as he nods, and you continue.

“The coach at UVA believes in you — even through your injury. Why are you going to throw that away? In order to be with your high school girlfriend? Do you see how childish that sounds?” A beat of silence passes before you continue in a softer tone. 

“I just… I don’t want you to do that, Thomas, it’s too big of a risk. You have a solid spot at UVA to prove yourself on the field. If you drop that for a walk-on position at UCLA, it’ll be a mistake. Instead of proving yourself to NFL recruiters, you’ll be set on proving yourself to college coaches just to get a chance on the field. I want you to have the best chances at making it to the NFL.” Now it’s your turn to stand up. You pace away from him as you continue to speak. 

“Let’s say you do follow me to UCLA and join the football program. What if… what if something happens while we’re in college and we’re not together anymore? What will happen? You’d have potentially messed up your career for me and I don’t want that to happen, T. I’m sorry but I won’t let that happen.”

Thomas holds a hand up to stop you from your ramblings. He speaks his next words slowly.  “Wait, wait, hold on now. You think we’re going to break up in college?”

You roll your eyes in frustration, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s not what I said—”

“No, no that’s exactly what you said.” He responds coldly, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’m starting to question our intentions in this relationship, Y/N. Did you ever plan on us being long term?”

“See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell you. I didn’t want this to happen.” You say, annoyed that it’s gotten to this point of you two having an argument.

“You just gonna ignore my question?”

“Before applying to schools, T, I wasn’t even thinking about the future. I was taking things day by day. We were both pent up in our little perfect world, but right now we need to face reality.”

“Okay, so then why’d you keep this a secret from me? Were you plannin’ on keepin’ this to yourself until graduation? I don’t know if you knew this, sweetheart, but a relationship is a two-way street and involves a little somethin’ called communication.” His snarky tone fills the room and has you rolling your eyes again. “Girlfriends aren’t supposed to lie to their boyfriends and then get mad at him for reacting a certain way when she finally decides to tell him huge news.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” You say, breathing out another sigh and softening up at his last sentence. He’s right; you shouldn’t have kept it a secret. “I wanted to tell you, I just, I don’t know what’s gonna happen after we graduate, okay? And I’m scared.”

“You don’t think we can work through that together? As a team?” Thomas’ eyes are begging you to reason with him. “I’m scared, too, but we’ll figure something out. Right?”

The look in your eyes is distant as you cast them down to the ground. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we could do a long distance thing. I’ve seen other couples do it.”

You fiddle with a loose thread on your sweater. “I don’t know, T. We’ll see if we can come up with something.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a hot-tempered laugh. “Okay.” He says shortly.

“What?”

“So you don’t want me to drop everything and go to UCLA with you, which is fine. I understand that. But now you’re telling me that you don’t wanna do long distance?”

“I didn’t say that, I just— we need to be realistic, Thom.”

“What does that even mean?!” He yells, and it’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice at you. You hate it.

“We have to keep the future in mind!”

“I want you in my future! Don’t you want me in your future?”

“We both have different ideas of what we want. Different dreams, okay? You can’t have your dream of making it to the NFL and also have me when I plan on going to an engineering program across the country!” 

You’re deflecting and he knows it.

“Answer the damn question, Y/N.” He says lowly, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Of course I want you in my future, Thomas!” You say exasperatedly, looking at the ceiling. “What kind of question is that?”

“Forgive me if I’m strugglin’ to believe that when you’re actin’ like this.” He says, his voice taking a more neutral tone, but he sounds exhausted. “You’re going to school across the country and you were hesitant to tell me - fine. I fucking get it. But you can’t just say that we’ll probably break up in college and think that that is fucking okay. It’s not! And you can’t say ‘I don’t know’ about dating long distance when that’s literally the only other option we have.”

“That’s the thing, Thomas. I don’t know if that’s the only other option we have.”

His face looks puzzled as he looks at you for a few seconds before realization finally settles in. Thomas narrows his eyes at you once again, his gaze cold, making your heart drop in your chest. “You wanna break up, don’t you?”

“No.” You state, choosing your words carefully. “I don’t want to. But we have to think about—”

“Our future, yeah. I get it.” Thomas snaps, cutting you off. “You know what? You want to talk about the future? Fine. Maybe we should.” He says simply, crossing his arms. “If you think we’re just going to break up in college anyway, maybe we should just speed up the process and get it over with.”

You shake your head at him. “Thomas, don’t do this. That’s not what I want.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s not.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe.”

“I’m done arguing with you, Jefferson.” You breathe out tiredly, running a hand through your hair.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He looks completely drained as he speaks again, his voice now calm. “What are we doing here, Y/N?”

A small silence fills the air before you answer quietly. “I don’t know, T.”

What are you both doing? Arguing about whether or not your relationship should continue after high school? Maybe you are being a little irrational about it, implying that you should break up before college and all. Thomas’ reaction to it all is understandable because he doesn’t want to lose you. However, he needs to be truthful to himself. Is this relationship going to work when the two of you are seeking entirely different career paths on opposite coasts?

What a fucking mess.

You hate that it’s gotten to this point. Your fear about telling Thomas and it going downhill has come true, and knowing that makes you even more emotional.

“Tommy… I…” You say sotto voce, on the edge of tears as you slowly reach for him, but he puts a hand up stopping you from moving any further. He turns his face so you can’t see his expression.

“Don’t, Y/N.” Thomas’ voice is firm, but it breaks slightly when he says your name. “Just don’t.” He whispers.

You watch him and he struggles to keep himself together. You hate that you’ve done this to him, that you’re making him feel this way… you hate that you’ve caused this.

“I’m gonna go…” You voice (barely above a whisper) after a long silent pause, not trusting your normal voice due to the shaky deep breaths that begin to rack your body. You’re on the verge of breaking down.

Thomas nods. “I think you should.”

And that breaks your heart.

You feel weird leaving like this, gross even. You don’t want to leave things off like they are. You don’t want to leave things unresolved and you don’t want to leave with Thomas still angry at you. Still, though, you grab all your things and head to the doorway of his room.

Pausing to look back at him, you open your mouth to say something, but hesitate. Deciding against it, you turn to open the door and leave without another word.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You call Maria as soon as you get to your car. She helps you keep your composure as you drive to her house, keeping you company via phone. You make sure to send your family a quick text of your whereabouts and that you plan to spend the night at Maria’s place.

As soon as you arrive in her bedroom and drop your bag to the ground, you break down and begin to sob, crashing into the welcoming arms of your best friend. You cry until you can’t anymore, and Maria is there for you the entire time hugging you and easing you through it.

She stays there, quiet and still, allowing you to let out all of your emotions. You don’t tell her the details about what happened until after you have no tears left to cry.

“Don’t be mad at T, please, none of this is his fault.” You sniffle, wiping at your nose with a tissue Maria gave you. “It’s all mine.”

“Y/N, don’t blame yourself for all this. You just want what’s best for the both of you in the long run. If he doesn’t understand that, then he’s just not seeing the whole picture.”

“I just hate arguing with him, Maria.” You say weakly, wiping at your face to dry your tears. “This is our first fight and I hate how I feel right now. I don’t want things to end on bad terms. How am I supposed to get over this feeling once we… if we break up before college?”

“You don’t have to end things on bad terms, Y/N.” Maria says softly. “You both need to be on the same page about this. If you both make a plan and sort things out, then maybe you can leave things on a positive note. Not as a goodbye, but as a see you later, you know? And if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. You’ll meet again one day and you can pick up where you left off. But if it’s not, then at least you guys can cherish what you had when you were just two kids in high school who didn’t know any better and made the most of their teenage years.”

You nod slowly. She does have a point, and this is all what you were thinking when you had even brought up the thought of breaking up after graduation.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“It’s my best friend superpower. I can’t help it.” She shrugs, making you laugh, even if it was only a half-hearted one. “Seriously, though. You two need to have an honest conversation with one another.”

You sigh, wiping the rest of your drying tears away with the tissue. “I think we both could use some space right now, though. I’m going to wait until Monday.”

Maria nods. “Monday. But you have to talk to him. You can’t chicken out. I know you, Y/N.”

“Sometimes a little too well…”

“All for the best.” She grins.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

After a long and lonely weekend, Monday finally comes and you make sure to wake up earlier than usual in order to make it to school in time for when Thomas comes out of his physical therapy session with his track trainer.

You haven’t called, texted, or seen each other since Friday night and the guilt and heaviness from what happened still weighs on your chest despite the reassuring words from Maria. 

Patiently and nervously, you wait outside the boys’ locker room like you have countless times before, only this time, things feel much different. The anticipation lingers in the air surrounding you and you feel the stress push at your shoulders until the door finally opens and Thomas walks out.

After over a year of dating, you still get butterflies at the sight of him even though he’s just wearing simple black jeans and a t-shirt.

As he shrugs on his jean jacket and backpack, he glances up through a few stray curls that fall down in front of his eyes. His eyes flicker to you as he walks in your direction before he rips them away quickly. 

“T, hey how was…?” You try to speak to him, but he just continues to walk past you.

You watch him as he goes on like nothing, completely disregarding your presence.

“You’re still mad…” You trail off, falling into step with him and his pace doesn’t falter.

He doesn’t say a word.

“Listen, I know you probably don’t wanna see me right now, but please hear me out.”

Still nothing.

You know he’s still upset; he only gets quiet when he has a lot on his mind or he’s going through something. Taking in a deep breath, you speed up so that you can get in front of him.

“Thomas, hey, stop.” You say, putting a hand on his chest. You know that if he really wants to charge past you he can, but instead he stays there, halted by your touch. He looks down at you, his face nearing yours, and your eyes plead with his. “Please.” You whisper, your fingers curling into his black shirt to hold him there (or maybe it’s more of a way to ground yourself).

Thomas’ detached gaze lingers on your face and as your eyes search his, you note just how devoid of energy he looks. 

“I just want to talk. I…” You watch him as he breaks your gaze to look at the ground. “I know I fucked up; I said some things I shouldn’t have. Just please let me make it up to you. I need you, T. I want to fix this while we still can.”

You sneak a glance around you to see that you’ve attracted some attention from your fellow classmates who are unapologetically staring. Do they know about you and Thomas’ fight? How could they possibly know? You two are hardly making a scene, but then again… people are vultures who will perk up at even the slightest bit of drama.

“Can we go somewhere private? Please? Just the two of us.”

Thomas licks his lips as he looks around, then back at you lazily. “Can this wait? We have class in six minutes, you know.”

“Let’s skip.” You say, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “This is more important than class today, okay? How about we go to that diner down the street?”

“It’s a little too early for a milkshake and fries, isn’t it?”

“They have eggs and waffles, too.” You say, your eyes pleading him to accept your offer. “Please? I know you love breakfast.”

He’s quiet for a few more minutes and you wait in anticipation for his answer. Just when you get your hopes down and think he’s going to reject you, he speaks up.

“Okay.” He responds finally. “But only because I really don’t want to watch boring presentations about the social cognitive theory in my Psych class…”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “That’s good enough for me, T.”

“Bribin’ me with breakfast. You know that shit’s my weakness…” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if he’d meant for you to hear that, but either way it makes a hint of a grin form on your lips.

“Come on, I’ll drive.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

When you get to the diner, it’s fairly empty except for an elderly couple at a booth and a man at the counter drinking a cup of coffee. The smell of eggs and bacon wafts through the air and enters your nostrils as you breathe in.

A waitress greets you when you two slide into a booth, sitting across from each other. She hands you both menus and gets your drink orders before she’s off.

Silence fills the air between you as you both look over your menus. Thomas doesn’t say anything and it feels weird, suddenly reminding you of why you’re here in the first place. While from an outside perspective it may look like a normal outing between you two, you can feel the lingering tension in the air that’s leftover from Friday night. Unspoken feelings and unresolved problems still remain. 

You sneak a glance at him over your menu only to find him already staring back at you. As soon as your eyes meet, he looks away.

“I feel really bad about Friday.” You finally break the silence, your voice small. Wanting nothing more than to let him know how you feel, you try to catch his gaze. When his brown eyes finally meet yours, you continue. “I hate the way we left things…”

“Me too.” He finally says softly. You two stare at each other for a few more seconds and Thomas opens his mouth to continue. “I…”

Then, the waitress comes back with a couple water cups and two black coffees, interrupting whatever it was that Thomas was about to say. You and Thomas direct your attention to her with fake smiles as she asks for your orders. 

After she takes your menus and leaves, you let out a sigh as you look down at your fidgeting hands.

“Listen, T…” You begin, regret and guilt evident in your voice. You make sure to look up and meet his gaze one more time before you continue. “I'm sorry for lying to you and your family — I should have told you the day I found out, but I was too afraid of losing what we have. And I'm sorry for fucking up your day when we were supposed to be celebrating instead.” 

You stop to take in a shaky deep breath, looking down at your hands once again. “I’m so sorry if I made it seem like I was doubting our relationship or… or if I made you feel like I didn’t… like you weren’t…” Struggling to find the right way to express how sorry you are, your tone gets more and more emotional as you stumble over your words.

Thomas saves you from your struggle, however, as his hand reaches across the table to cover yours, causing you to look up at him with surprise. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“What?” You voice breathlessly. “I… I thought you were still mad. It shouldn’t be that easy. Why are you…?”

He shrugs slowly. “Because you’re not entirely at fault… and as much as I want to stay angry, I can’t stand seein’ you in distress like this.”

You purse your lips and squeeze his hand in yours. “I’m still really sorry, T. I want you to know that. I said some things I regret and…”

“I know you are. Especially after seeing you try to fix things today by not takin’ no for an answer earlier. We both said some things we regret and it’s okay, Y/N. Really.” His voice is soft as he responds. “I’m sorry for yellin’ and not fully listenin’ to what you were sayin’. And for bein’ kind of a dick to you earlier when I ignored you. I was in denial. I just felt like you were givin’ up on us too quickly and I… I don’t wanna mess up what we have. I really don’t.”

Your eyes soften at his words. “I know. Me neither.”

You both are quiet for a few seconds as you both struggle to find a way to address the elephant in the room. 

Luckily, you both get interrupted by the waitress again who comes back with your orders. You let go of each other’s hand when your plates are placed in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight of your food, and you thank your waitress before she leaves again, telling you to let her know if you need anything else.

A comfortable silence falls in the space between you and Thomas, and though you feel that the tension from Friday night has now dissipated, the stress of the upcoming conversation still sits on your shoulders.

Surprisingly, Thomas is the one who initiates it.

“So…” He starts after chasing a mouthful of pancakes with a sip of water. “I’m guessin’ you won’t be comin’ back to town on holiday breaks?”

You cringe at the bluntness of the question. “What made you assume that?”

He shrugs, chewing his food before swallowing. “Just the way you were so helpless with your options. Thinking back to it, I figure that you probably wouldn’t have jumped to the possibility of breaking up unless you’d already thought things through somewhat.”

Very observant of him.

You nod before letting out a small sigh. “Yeah. My family’s planning on moving to Miami once I move out. Apparently they’re tired of the cold weather and wanted to wait to move until I graduated high school. They let me know when I told them the news.”

“Erik, too?”

“He’s staying in Philly until he graduates next Spring.”

“Well, that sucks.” He says, picking at the leftovers on his plate.

“Yeah.” You reply softly. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore, Thomas. I thought the answer was clear, but now I’m not so sure.”

He sighs, putting his fork down before looking up at you. “I think I do.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you tilt your head in confusion.

Thom sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Well, for starters, you’re always right, let me just put that out there.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Well, for this instance, at least.” He says simply before he continues. “As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think we’ve got options here.”

“Yes we do, you said it yourself, T.”

“We don’t, Y/N, you were right. I didn’t wanna believe it before but now, I don’t think I have a choice.” He says, holding your gaze firmly. “The two of us going to the same school is out of the picture. Especially with application deadlines already being passed - I checked and I don’t know what I was thinking on Friday. And with us not going to be able to see each other even on holiday breaks… I don’t think that leaves anythin’ else on the table.”

“Thomas, really, you don’t have to do this. Don’t let me pressure you into something you don’t wanna do. Like you said, a relationship’s a two way street. We can work something out. I don’t know what, but we’ll try something else.”

“You’re not pressuring me, Y/N. What would that ‘something else’ be? Long distance? The chances of us visiting each other are slim, especially since I’ll be stuck at UVA for the majority of summer break for training camp. Especially since you’ll be in California and especially since you have no incentive to come back to town after you graduate.”

“You’re my incentive, T.”

He licks his lips and lets out a small laugh. “Baby, don’t fight me on this; you wanted this. Why the shift?”

“I don’t wanna lose you.” You say, voice quiet and close to tears.

Thomas reaches out across the table for your hand again. You lace your fingers with his and hold tightly. “I know. I don’t want to lose you either, but you were right, sweetheart. Seeing each other once a year isn’t good enough, let’s be real. I think we’d be hurting more than we'd be happy.”

You let out a long, deep sigh, squeezing his hand. He’s absolutely right and you knew this when you started this conversation on Friday — doesn’t mean that you don’t want to avoid it, though.

“We… we should…” He hesitates to continue the sentence. “We— God, why is this so hard?”

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, T.”

He takes a deep breath before the words finally come out. “We should break up. This summer.”

It sounds foreign coming out of his mouth and his change in viewpoint surprises you still, even after talking it through with him.

“I don’t wanna be your shackle, Y/N.” He says, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “I want you to do great things without worryin’ about me. Just like you were sayin’ on Friday. And I don’t wanna risk getting to a point where we grow too distant we lose all hope.”

Your eyes tear up a little bit and you reach up to wipe at your eyes with your free hand.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you off easy, missy.” Thomas looks at you pointedly, his voice wavering slightly. He lets out a small bittersweet laugh before he continues. “I’m gonna consider this more of a ‘see you later’ than a ‘goodbye forever’ kinda thing. At some point, I don’t know or care when, we’ll continue where we left off. Mark my words.”

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. You’ve definitely heard those words before. “Have you been talking to Maria lately?”

He gives you a confused look. “No, not since we went on that double date with her and Ellie like two weeks ago, why?”

“She said a similar thing to me when I vented to her this weekend.”

“Really? Oh. I thought I was clever for that one.”

“You were.” You smile, rubbing small circles on the top of his hand.

A comfortable silence settles. The waitress comes back with the check and you give her your card against Thomas’ protests. It’s not long before she comes back and wishes that you both have a good rest of your day.

“This is gonna fucking suck.” Thomas suddenly says bluntly.

“Yeah, it is.” You sigh. “But you know what? We’re gonna make the most of the next three months. We’ll laugh together, we’ll cry together, we’ll enjoy the good times, and when the time comes… we won’t look back. Then, maybe one day, when I’m an engineer and you’re in the NFL… we’ll meet again.”

He sends you a watery smile, giving your hand a small squeeze. “I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart.”

You reciprocate his smile as a small silence stretches in between you two.

Thomas’ eyes fall onto his untouched (and probably now cold) coffee and with his free hand he reaches for the cream. You take that as a sign to let his hand go to let him tend to his glorified bean water, but as you try to withdraw your fingers from his, he just holds on tighter.

“Um, excuse me? What do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, glancing at you like you just committed a sin. 

“Don’t you need to pour creamer?” You raise an eyebrow, wondering what the big deal is. “I don’t want you to spill it.”

“Girl, I can pour creamer with one hand, thank you very much.” And there’s the Thomas you know and love, not that he was ever absent in the first place, but it’s good to see him messing around again. “Let me hold your hand in peace because God knows how many more times I’ll get to do it. I gotta savor it.”

“Stoppp.” You whine, drawing the word out. “This is how you’re gonna act until graduation, isn’t it?”

“You complainin’, sweetheart?” He fake pouts as he carefully pours the cream in his coffee and stirs with a spoon. “I thought you loved me.”

You roll your eyes. “You know I love your dramatic ass.”

“Mhm. In more ways than one.” Thomas hums before he takes a sip of his coffee. He cringes when he realizes it’s cold and you laugh at his reaction.

“Ready to go yet?” You ask, amused.

He nods. “We’re not going back to class, though, are we? Because if that’s the case, then no.”

“What? Hell no. Who do you think I am?” You say as you both mutually let go of each other’s hand to get up from the booth.

“A goody-two-shoes, that’s what you are. Really, baby, I didn’t expect you to mention skipping class. That’s like… blasphemy for you.”

You shrug as he holds the front door open for you. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

Thomas gives you a suggestive look and that causes you to smack his arm. “God, Thomas, not like that. Jesus.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh as you approach your car and he grabs you by the waist as he leans back against the driver’s door. He presses a kiss to your forehead, hugging you close to him. “Just messin’.”

You roll your eyes before you pull back to look him up and down.

“When’d you get this jacket? Haven’t seen you in it before.” You muse, bringing your hands up to grab the denim on each side of his collar.

“A week ago? Maybe two? This is my first time wearing it, though.” He answers before he smirks. “Why? You like it?”

“Yeah, you look good in denim.”

“Do I, now?” He cocks his head slightly, amused as your face drifts closer.

“Mhm. The jacket really suits you.” You hum, releasing the material with one of your hands to slide it up to his jaw. You give him a soft kiss on his lips before you pull back. “Might look better on the floor, though. I don’t know. We’ll have to try and find out.”

Thomas’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise; he hadn’t expected you to turn the suggestive talk around on him. A smirk forms on his lips as he presses them to yours one more time.

“Your parents home?” He mumbles against you.

You pull away slightly to think about it for a second. “No, actually.”

“Well, then I guess we’re about to find out.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Over the next few months, you and Thomas keep the promise you gave to each other at the diner. You’ve stayed positive and lived in the moment and, to be honest, those three months have probably been the best three months of your life.

You and Thom are both making the most of your time, making sure to spend almost every weekend together. 

You study together even though you don’t share any classes. Most of the time is spent doing homework in silence, but you still enjoy each other’s presence.

For spring break, you go on a trip to the beach with Thomas, Maria, Ellie, James, Aaron, and a few more mutual friends. The week is full of banter and lots of fun-filled memories that you’ll remember for many years to come. It’s definitely one of the many highlights of senior year.

Thomas, being his over-the-top self, asks you to prom by spelling ‘Prom?’ out with bouquets of roses on your front lawn. And as if that isn’t enough, you wake to the sound of a live orchestral quartet playing your favorite song. You groggily walk over to your window to see where the sound is coming from and you’re met with the sight of your boyfriend grinning up at you with his arms gesturing around him proudly.

Of course you say yes. 

You would have said yes even if he had asked you casually — but what can you say… you’re a sucker for flowers and he knows it.

Prom night is an absolute blast. You feel like a stunner in your dress and Thomas looks unbelievably handsome in his fitted tux. You stay together the entire night, dancing, singing, laughing, and joking around with both your and his friends.

You almost lose track of the amount of date nights you have with Thomas. You have movie nights, some nights you go rollerskating, concerts, restaurants, hell, you even go paintballing together, which is something that neither of you had ever thought you’d get into.

But as June grows closer and closer, you can’t help but feel that heaviness settle back into your chest. You’d be lying if you said that you haven’t thought about backing out of this agreement the two of you have. In fact, you’ve spent countless nights lying wide awake (sometimes right next to Thomas), trying to figure out how things would go if you decide to stay together.

With your parents deciding to move down to Miami a week after you graduate, it pushes the day you move out to LA earlier than you had originally intended, which makes the idea of staying together seem next to impossible. Your mother says that it’ll be a good opportunity for you to get to know the LA area before classes start in August. 

This causes you and Thomas to have a more in-depth conversation about the plan and it ends with you two deciding to break it off a week before your big move. Both of you are in agreement that it would be best for the both of you, so that you have some time to recover. You figure it will be easier that way.

So, when the time comes to start packing your things for your move to California (and your parents’ move to Florida), you get stressed out. You notice that Thomas’ and your enthusiasm/positivity starts to fade as the date of graduation creeps closer and closer.

Which brings you to the present.

On the day of graduation, reality finally hits you. Because not only are you recognizing the fact that you’re leaving the love of your life in eight days to go to school in Cali, you’re also leaving Maria who has been a constant in your life since elementary school.

Maria plans to stay in town and go to community college to knock out all her general education classes before she transfers to a four-year university. Luckily, her girlfriend Ellie has the same idea, so they’ll be taking the same path after high school.

At least they will be together.

Unlike you and Thom, who are currently posing for a photo together for his and your parents who stand behind their phones grinning and teary eyed. You both give your best smiles to the cameras, trying to preserve the memory as best as possible without breaking.

Surprisingly, you and Thomas have stayed strong despite the impending suspension of your relationship that lingers in the atmosphere between you. Although teary eyed because you are saying goodbye to a lot of friends and faculty you’ve gotten to know over the years, you and Thomas don’t cry on graduation day. You don’t cry during the ceremony, you don’t cry during the many pictures you take that day, and you don’t cry at the large family dinner the Jefferson household holds for both you and Thomas.

You’ve both toughed it out both privately and in public. But graduation day eventually comes to its inevitable end, and the day after begins, marking your last day with Thomas Jefferson as your boyfriend.

The two of you make your last day special and have a day-long picnic in a nearby park. You wake up early and spend the entire day together, laughing, kissing, talking, and having as much fun as you can with the inevitable future looming over your heads. You both make the best of your time together, and that’s really all you can ask for.

As the day goes by, your time together begins to run out. And both of your composures begin to fade as each second passes.

While your curfew to be back home is 10pm, you and Thomas decide to hold onto each other a bit longer, so he drives you home and you sneak him into your room when your parents are too busy packing in the basement. They know that this is your last day with Thomas, so when you’re distracting them while Thomas makes his way up the stairs, you tell them that you’re going to sleep early. They comfort you for a few minutes but leave you to your own grief, knowing to respect your wish of ‘sleeping the night off.’

Little do they know, you and Thomas decide to have one more special night together. 

When you finally make your way up to your bedroom, Thomas is sitting on your bed, glancing at the half-empty boxes in the corner of your room that need to be filled. Half of your room is packed up, but you’ve put off packing lately to spend time with Thom before you physically can’t anymore.

You let out a sniffle and you don’t realize that you are on the verge of crying until you see Thomas begin to break, too.

“Come here.” He murmurs, standing up from your bed to pull you into a tight hug. 

You both cry into each other’s shoulders, fully letting yourselves go emotionally as you let out your pent up sadness. You’re getting each other’s clothing wet with tears, but neither of you care as you cling onto each other, not wanting to let go.

You don’t know how long you stay there or how long it takes until both of you calm down enough so that your tears fall silently.

“I told you this was gonna fucking suck.” Thomas mumbles against you, causing you to let out a laugh and sob at the same time.

You don’t respond, but after a few seconds, you pull away from his shoulder to look at him. Silence stretches between you before you whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you.” He echoes without hesitation before he leans his forehead against yours. You both bask in each other’s presence for a few more beats until Thomas speaks again, his words shaking. “Football won’t be the same without you, Y/N. I won’t be the same without you.”

“You played football for years before I became a part of your life. You’ll be fine, T.” You say quietly, though you are absolutely sure of your words. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek and wipe some of his tears away. “You’re gonna move on and be great and show people what you’re capable of.”

Silence stretches between the two of you before you take a step away from him as you remember something. Thomas frowns at your sudden withdrawal, but you explain yourself as you both wipe at your faces to dry them as best as each of you can.

“That reminds me…” You say, digging into one of the open boxes in the corner of your room until you feel a familiar piece of fabric. You pull out Thomas’ purple hoodie — the one he gave to you the night you officially became a couple. Damn, it feels so long ago now, but it hasn’t even been two years. “Here. You should probably take this back.”

He lets out a small laugh and takes the purple fabric from you to examine it. He seems lost in thought, but after a few moments, he shakes his head and hands it back to you. “Nah. Keep it.”

When you don’t take it, his hand reaches out to one of yours and he wraps your fingers around the fabric. You try to protest, but he continues.

“Don’t want you forgettin’ about me, now, do we?” He chuckles dryly.

“I won’t forget you, Thomas.” Your voice sounds so sure of your words that Thomas has no choice but to believe you.

He swallows and looks down for a second before he glances back into your eyes. “I know.”

“You’re gonna forget about me, though.”

Thomas shakes his head and his eyebrows scrunch together and he looks like he’s about to break again before he reaches out to pull you close.

“Never.” He mumbles into your hair before he pulls back. “Hey, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I will never forget you, Y/N Y/L/N. I couldn’t even if I tried.”

He brings his hands up to cup both sides of your face. His thumbs brush some fresh tears away before he continues to talk. “These eyes? Unforgettable. This beautiful face? Ingrained in my brain forever, sweetheart, I promise you that.” One of his thumbs lightly brushes over your lips. “Don’t even get me started on these lips. I’ll miss them for sure.”

Thomas pauses for a second before his beautiful brown eyes gaze into yours, letting you know that he truly means his next words. “I’m never going to forget any part of you, Y/N.”

You stay there, gazing at one another with nothing but pure love and admiration. Without breaking eye contact, you gingerly put Thomas’ hoodie (which is apparently yours now) back in the box you removed it from. You reach up to pull Thomas’ lips down to yours passionately. 

Thomas responds, instantly reciprocating the kiss with the same amount of emotion that you pour into it. He moves his hands from your cheeks to pull your body closer to him. Your hand digs into the material of his shirt and suddenly, you can’t get enough of each other. You both need more — to be closer — but neither of you rush anything. You take it slow and try to take in every little detail about each other.

As layer after layer of clothing comes off, you two savor the feeling of each other’s lips, bodies, and touch. Every soft moan, every sigh, every gasp, every kiss… each and every moment that you spend with each other is savored in one final heat-filled act of love.

Afterwards, you both lie in your bed under the blankets, Thomas’ arm around your naked body and your head on his bare chest. You cherish each other’s presence for one final time, basking in silence until Thomas finally breaks it, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You still sure about this, sweetheart?”

You are quiet for a few seconds before you answer, sotto voce. “Yeah, T.” You listen to his steady heartbeat as you bring your hand up to rest on his torso. “You?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

A few seconds pass and you subconsciously trace little circles on his abdomen with your thumb. Thomas’ arm tightens around your waist as he pulls your closer.

“I’m sorry things have to end this way.” He mumbles against you, his deep voice reverberating throughout his chest.

“Don’t be.” You murmur, exhausted from the emotional toll this day has taken on you. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world — unless there’s a way where it doesn’t end with you and Thomas going your separate ways.

You shake your head at yourself for thinking so negatively. You promised each other something back at that diner.

“It’s not the end, T.” You speak out loud, shifting so that your head rests on the pillow and you’re face to face with Thomas. “You said it yourself before and now it’s my turn to say it: this is a ‘see you later,’ alright? So I better fucking see you later, or else.”

He laughs (oh, you’re gonna miss that laugh) and his hand slides up the curve of your hip to pull himself closer to you. “Back at ya, princess.”

You both sniffle, but you know that your time together, for the time being, at least, has come to an end — especially as both of you begin to drift off no matter how hard you try to stay awake.

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” You whisper in Thomas’ warm embrace.

Thomas responds after he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to.” 

So neither of you do. 

And you both fall asleep, bodies entangled with one another, content to be in each other’s embrace one last time before you move away.

The next morning, Thomas wakes up before you do and he slowly untangles himself from you as he wills himself to stay strong. He dresses himself as quietly as he can before he presses one last kiss to your temple.

Then, he takes one last look at your sleeping form before he leaves, keeping his word to you and not giving either of you a chance to say your goodbyes.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A week later, your heart beats frantically as you drop a box of things you plan on leaving behind against the wall outside of your room.

It’s minutes before you’re supposed to leave for the airport — you want to leave early in case something goes wrong and you get delayed. Sighing, you walk back into your empty room to check for any last things you may have missed packing into the many boxes that are already stashed into your parents’ car.

“Y/N?” You hear your brother call out from downstairs. “I think there’s someone waiting for you outside.”

Who could it be? You’ve already said your goodbyes to Maria earlier that day when she’d helped you finish packing.

Erik gives you a sad smile as you pass by and you give him a confused look.

“What? Who is it?” You ask, eyebrows raised. “You know we have to leave in a few, right?”

“You’ll see.” Erik says, causing you to sigh.

After determining that your final sweep (even though you’ve done it three times now) is done, you make your way past Erik and open the front door. When you make it onto your driveway, you’re shocked to see Thomas Jefferson standing there with a sheepish grin and his hands in his pockets, looking as handsome as ever.

“Thomas…” You trail off, surprised to see him after your last day together the week prior. “What are you doing here?”

Your boyfriend (well… ex now, technically) walks closer and takes his hands out of his pockets. You can see him fidgeting with his fingers as he speaks. “I uh…” He breathes out a nervous laugh before one of his hands reaches up to rub the back of his neck. 

You watch him from a few feet away as he struggles to get his words out.

“Well, I… as your… not-boyfriend wanted to say goodbye.” He says softly, shifting his eyes to the ground briefly before looking back up to gaze into yours. “I changed my mind. Leaving without saying goodbye just gutted me and made me feel like we had unfinished business. I had to see you one more time, Y/N. I-I’m sorry.” Thomas’ voice is unstable as he apologizes and you feel tears well up in your eyes as he continues. “I know this breaks our agreement and everything, but I couldn’t just let you leave before—”

You cut him off by stalking forward to wrap him into a crushing hug — a hug the two of you desperately need at the moment. Thomas doesn’t waste a second before his arms encircle your waist to hold you just as tightly to him.

Even though you had spent the entire day with each other just a week prior, the need to see each other — to feel each other — one last time has consumed you both. You agree that waking up to an empty bed without saying a proper goodbye (even though it’s what you had initially wanted) had crushed you, and it had caused you to be an emotional wreck to the following two days.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, sniffling before letting out a bittersweet laugh. “I just made this so much more fucking difficult for us.”

“It’s okay.” You reciprocate his laugh as tears stream down your face. “It’s so worth it, T.”

A few minutes pass by as you hold each other close.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I’m really gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, T.” You say quietly. “So much.”

You’ve lost track of time and your mother is the one to finally bring you and Thomas back to reality.

“Y/N, we gotta go, honey…” Your mom speaks as softly as possible from her position at the front door, and you can see the guilt on her face as she watches her daughter’s heart break. “You’re gonna be late for your flight.”

You turn back to Thomas and give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. You gave me the best year and eight months I could ever ask for… so thank you.”

You look up at him for a second before you sob and crash into his chest. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.” He replies softly before he steels himself. “But you have a flight to catch. Which means you need to go.”

You give him one last kiss, it’s watery from both of your tears but neither of you care.

“Go be great.” He says when you pull back. “You deserve the world, Y/N.”

He holds your hand until the grip slips when you take a step towards the car.

“See you later, Thomas.”

He smiles through his tears before he replies. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

You get in the car and a few seconds later, your mother pulls out of the driveway (apparently Erik and your father are going to drive separately). As the car drives away, Thomas waves from your driveway until you can’t see him anymore. You know that’s the last you’ll see of him for a while.

And maybe, just maybe, you regret leaving him behind.

But a voice lingers in the back of your mind that gives you some sort of relief:

If it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.

[anoutlandishfanfic]

The Alaskan Endeavor: Ch2 - Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

So, again, this chapter update (can I call them PUPdates? they’re now PUPDATES) is in celebration of another race that finished up yesterday morning -- the Kuskokwim 300 aka The Kusko300, which is one of if not THE most competitive middle distance race in Western Alaska. We’ll get to the pups and more about racing in the next chapter but HERE WE HAVE THE MEETING Y’ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR.

You can find chapter one here or over at AO3!!

Claire That evening

The Murray’s residence wasn’t far from my flat above the Abernathy’s garage — nothing in this tiny hamlet was — and I decided to walk the four blocks, taking in a remarkable summer’s evening.

Joe had warned me that the shift in daylight hours was more extreme here in Kozebue — twenty-six miles above the Arctic Circle — than where we’d reconnected on Kodiak Island… and I had to admit he was right. I’d made good use of the black out curtains that were installed in the bedroom, shutting out the sun that insisted on shining well into the night and starting up again ungodly early in the morning. I knew I’d have no trouble making my way back on foot after dinner.

It would still be broad daylight.

I rounded the final corner and scanned the lane for my destination…

“It’s a blue house with white trim… second on the left,” Joe’s wife Gail had easily informed me, for the Abernathy’s and the Murray’s were old friends.

Gail’s eyes had held the same suspicious twinkle that Jenny’s had when she’d invited me for dinner and I had a sinking suspicion that I was about to be set up on a blind date, hosted by Jenny Murray herself. My new patient had mentioned she had a brother when she was in earlier and if I were the betting sort, I’d place my life savings on him being the man in question.

How on earth did you let yourself get roped into this, Beauchamp? I sighed ruefully to myself as I spotted the abode.

Crossing the street, I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my pounding heart as I got closer to the Murray’s front door. It was no use, of course, for it had firmly lodged itself in my throat about a block and a half back, and I was left trembling slightly as I mounted the front steps.

Wiping sweaty palms on my pants, I lifted my hand and knocked. Once — twice — three times.

… Jamie

“Can you get that?” Jenny shouted from the kitchen, the usual clamor of my nieces and nephew interfering but not obscuring her words.

Passing the youngest back to her father, I stood and answered, “Aye, I’ve got it!”

I wiped at the deposit of crumbs that wee Katie had left behind on my shirtfront, tugging at the hem in an attempt to flatten out the wrinkles pressed into it by the same. I shook my head and gave it up, knowing it was useless and that it shouldn’t really matter anyway.

Rolling my eyes at the ridiculous concern for my own appearance, I turned into the front hall and padded quickly down the plush rug to the door.

I turned the knob and pulled — then stopped dead as the door opened.

Christ, she was beautiful.

Her pale cheeks were slightly flushed, which made the small smattering of freckles across her nose stand out like brilliant stars. The curls were coming out of a plait that was draped over one shoulder and it gave her a delightfully adventurous air. She was a brunette like Jenny, but not nearly quite so dark. The light streaming in from behind her set brilliant copper highlights aglow as she flipped the thick queue away, making it disappear behind her.

One perfectly arched brow rose in question of me — and I knew I was staring — but the ability to form coherent speech left me entirely as her eyes locked on to mine.

Brown would be a woefully inaccurate word to describe such a hue as hers. They were rich like a fine whisky, a deep amber that all at once soothed and pierced your soul.

Pull yerself together, you clotheid.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure and took a step back, sweeping a hand to usher her in.

“You, ah, must be Dr Claire,” I stammered, my lips still not completely able to do my bidding. “I’m Jamie, Jenny’s brother.”

Comprehension lit her eyes and she chuckled softly.

God, that sound.

It sent shockwaves up and down my spine and stood the hair on the back of my neck on end.

What I wouldn’t do to make her laugh like that again.

“Tell me, Jamie,” she kept her voice low, a conspiratorial gleam sneaking into her eyes. “Have Jenny and Gail been playing matchmaker with us?”

Raking a hand through my hair, I confessed dryly, “They’ve been trying to set me up for years.”

She tipped her head back and laughed outright and freely at my confirmation, commenting, “I thought so, but then I’d only met your sister this morning.”

“I’ve known her my whole life,” I grinned back at her. “Once Jen gets an idea in her head, it’s best to let her have at it ‘til it peters out on its own... unless it involves that wee fiend of hers.”

Delicate, slender fingers lifted to her lips as the color deepened in her cheeks, amusement still high in her voice, “Are you talking about Roger?”

“Right! Yes!” It was my turn to laugh. “You’ve met the numpty yourself.”

She grinned, “I’ve had the pleasure, yes.”

“Did she tell you he’s a service dog drop out?” I shook my head in mock derision.

Her eyes grew as big as saucers, nearly dropping the bag in her hand as she burst, “No!!”

“Oh, aye!” I scoffed, but my smile crept back in and betrayed my amusement at the whole ordeal.

“Too friendly… and easily distracted.”

“Are you two done bletherin’ out here?” My brother in law Ian stuck his head into the hallway, succinctly interrupting us with a knowing look.

“The food’s gettin’ cold!”

… Claire

Tucked between Jamie and his seven year old namesake, dinner was far from a dull affair. Jenny proved to be a remarkable cook and the table conversation ranged in topics from a nuanced detail of racing — that is, mushing — to my favorite animal.

“Do you mean in general,” I tested the waters, assembling another forkful of roast and potatoes, “or in a specific class or order?”

The little boy’s eyes lit up and I knew I’d found a topic that he particularly enjoyed… which was a stroke of luck for me, being that animals and their care was my field of expertise.

Thank God it wasn’t dinosaurs.

“Mammals!” He eagerly narrowed the field, then zeroed in even further, “What’s your favorite African mammal?!”

“Oh, that’s easy! A giraffe!” I supplied, my smile matching his. “I got to see them in the wild, you know… in Tanzania.”

This caught the attention of the rest of the table and began to field questions left and right about my time on the Serengeti. I didn't mind, as they were happy memories, and soon won over both the younger Jamie and his five year old sister Maggie with tales of elephants and zebras and all of the animals they’d only read about in books or seen on television.

“Did you see any lions?” Little Maggie’s voice dropped into what I supposed was her version of a whisper — as if one were right beside us — and she nearly vibrated with excitement as she asked again, “Did you see any lions, Dr Claire?!”

I heard Jamie, the elder and my supposed date for the evening, chuckle beside me and I wondered just what sort of mischief this little one could get into when she set her mind to it.

“I did see lions too, Maggie,” I assured her, taking on her affected stage whisper. “We went in a truck at night and had big flashlights and saw them getting a drink of water.”

“Dey sirsty,” two year old Katie informed the table proudly, making all of the adults grin.

I bit my lip to keep from chuckling at her innocent attempt at being involved in the conversation, but agreed, “They get very thirsty.”

“How’d ye wind up in Alaska, then?”

This turn in conversation came from Jamie’s father, an older man by the name of Brian.

“I went to university with Joe Abernathy in Seattle,” I supplied. “We went separate ways after graduation but I ran into him again when I was visiting my uncle on Kodiak Island… Joe offered me a position at his clinic and I couldn’t refuse.”

“He’s done a lot of good wi’ that practice of his,” Brian commented. “Been a dream of his for some time now.”

Nodding, I smiled at the memory of Joe’s eager rants and rails, “He spoke quite a bit about it in school. I knew how much it meant to him and was eager to help him in his cause.”

“He almost worked himself to death before you came along,” Jenny snorted, then shot me an apologetic look. “Bein’ the only vet in the Northwest Borough made for long hours an’ no rest.”

“That’s why I wanted to come… to ease the burden a bit.”

“Well, then you’re a saint, Dr Claire,” she sighed, surmising with a shake of her head.

“No,” I assured her quietly. “I’m just plain old Claire Beauchamp.”

… Jamie. After Dinner.

“Wait just a minute,” I protested. “You walked here?!”

We were at the front door again, this time in full control of my faculties, but the woman before me was quickly turning out to be more of an complexity than I ever imagined possible.

Her brow furrowed at this, as if she hadn’t thought of the incongruity of her walking the mile from the Abernathy’s to here on foot.

“Yes… why?”

“Well, it’s… it’s just that…'' I stammered, flummoxed. “Don’t you have somethin’ to drive?”

“Of course,” she looked at me as if I’d sprouted five heads from my shoulders. “I have a perfectly good vehicle, but why drive it four blocks when it’s beautiful outside and I can walk?”

I opened my mouth to respond to this and found I didn’t have a reasonable answer. She found great amusement in this and crossed her arms, waiting for me to respond.

Shaking my head, I gave it up and couldn’t help but smile as I offered to walk her home.

This took her by complete surprise and her jaw dropped, “Why?!”

“Well,” I pulled at the back of my neck, trying to come up with something and shrugged helplessly, “like you said… it’s a beautiful evening.”

Her brows nearly rose to her hairline, not buying this for one moment.

“Look, it’s the polite thing to do, aye? I know you live at the Abernathy’s because Joe told me… I’ll leave just as soon as you’ve made it to the front door, I promise,” I insisted. “Nothin more.”

She contemplated this, then clarified, “Just a walk?”

I dropped my hands, swinging my hands away from my sides in a clearing motion and then against them again with a soft pat.

“Just a walk.”