#i likely would have gotten substantially worse

[tweedfrog]

Professionals like doctors, therapists whatever rlly are just some guys at the end of the day. Like yes they've trained more and have expertise and yes you should place trust in them if they are reliable but you also need to trust your gut because that isn't an infalliable God giving you advice it's John the 43 year old who happens to have gone into medicine.

If you feel like they're taking advantage of you or being unprofessional or gaslighting you NEED to get out of there and (if u can) report their asses to a professional body!!!! Like do not let these ppl get away with treating you awfully cause they have a degree and I say that as someone who has a Professional Degree ™ (law) and is working towards practicing.

You know how everyone distrusts lawyers and thinks we're scummy? You need to be applying that level of distrust to a lot more professions you rely on. If you feel like dogshit and your doctor dismisses your concerns or says youre just anxious or fat and you think something else is wrong PLEASE go seek a second opinion.

[omgthatdress]

Sooooo ummmmmmm this is something that's probably going to piss a lot of people off, but I feel like I really need to say it.

If you get a message from an account claiming to be a Palestinian fundraiser, it is a bot. It is a scam. You need to report & delete the message and encourage others to do the same.

I know because I get messages on this account DAILY. I have a very high follower count and I'm pretty active and I interact with my followers a lot, and apparently that all adds up to one big bot magnet.

Bots following and messaging this account was a MASSIVE problem before Tumblr fixed its new account policies. I used to spend literally hours blocking and reporting the hundreds of bots that I would get following me each day.

I learned a lot about bots and how to identify them. The easiest way is with no avatar, "untitled" in the blog description (BTW if your avatar is still set to default PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD change it because you run a substantial risk of being accidentally blocked & reported as a bot).

One of the dead give aways of a bot was what I call "word salad" names. Three seemingly random words strung together making no sense, always adjective, adjective or noun, noun. If you reported a lot of these bots, you'd notice the same words kept showing up.

Nowadays, I am bombarded with fundraiser requests and sometimes, they don't even bother to hide the fact that they're a bot. The avatar is default, the blog title is "untitled," and the blog name is a classic randomly-generated word salad.

However MOST of the requests I get come from at least semi-legit looking accounts. There are pictures, a name, a story. Never mind that I've gotten that message three times from different accounts.

Sometimes, they claim to be vetted, but the whole vetting system essentially adds up to "trust me bro." There is no way of guaranteeing that this account isn't just lying about being vetted, claiming to be vetted by a false person, or are using the identity of a real Palestinian to scam people.

Previously, I've seen a lot of people getting attacked for raising questions about these fundraisers and getting attacked for being racist or for harming Palestinian families in danger, like Tumblr isn't a website famous for its scams and the words "The Arkh Project" "All or Nothing" or "Miss Officer and Mr. Truffles" mean nothing to you.

I personally have been scammed by people claiming to be charities on Tumblr before, specifically, The Leelah Project which used the name of a trans teenager who died by suicide to swindle people out of their money.

Luckily, there are actual, respected charities out there you can give money to if you want to help the cause:

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Palestine Red Crescent Society

United Nations Relief Works Agency

Islamic Relief

World Central Kitchen

Médecins Sans Frontièrs

One of the hardest things to accept about the situation in Palestine is that realistically, there is very little that your average outsider can do to change it. However, these large, well-respected and trustworthy charities are out there doing the hard work to keep people alive, and should be where the donation money is going

These scam bots feed on people's naïvety and need to believe that they are making a difference, and even worse, feed on the fear that by ignoring them, it somehow makes you a racist doing direct harm to a refugee family, when in fact they are using the suffering of Palestinians to take away money from those in need.

As far as fundraisers that don't send out random asks for donations, I honestly don't know. You'll have to do the work yourself and approach with much caution.

Be careful out there.

[unteriors]

Since you're Australian, why are so many of the posts from the US? Did you start with Australia and then move onto other countries once you'd felt like you exhausted it? Or is the US particularly interesting for your purposes?

A big part of the reason is the enormous difference in scale. Australia has about 25 million people, versus 300 or so million in the US. Each of the 50 states has at least one or two major cities, most have many more than that. In addition to the volume of real estate imagery produced by this market, there are a few things about the US in this context which draw me in from an Australian perspective. One is how real estate listings weirdly embody how much more visually apparent the harmful economic forces of the past 50 years are in American society than they are here or elsewhere. Australia's welfare state was developed roughly during the same time as in the US, and has similarly been cut back since the 1970s. But it was always much weaker in the US than in Australia or Western Europe, and correspondingly the effects of its deterioration - along with other economic trends - have been much more visible than they are here. The way this is played out in terms of localised funding for public services means that many American cities have pockets (of varying sizes) where poverty and other forms of systemic oppression are concentrated and left open to the elements. The sort of stuff Jacob Holdt documented in his photos in the 70s, or that you see in a lot crime films and thrillers with location shooting. Gentrification and other forces since then have pushed these pockets into other areas and made some places seem less grim, but from what I've heard it seems like it would be hard for the average person in the US to ignore that these large, systemic problems exist. Conversely, in Australia, this kind of intense poverty has been pushed into the margins of society during the same time period - to remote communities (where people suffer from chronic diseases that have been eradicated in most other wealthy countries), country towns with shrinking economies, or to the fringes of larger cities (where people sleep in their cars in parking lots, or multiple families form sharehouses to afford $400-500+ pw rents). Though as things have gotten worse, particularly since COVID, it's getting harder to ignore. But still there's a substantial part of the population here who have grown up in ignorance of any of the larger, percolating structural problems in Australian society, and who proactively retain that ignorance into adulthood.

I think you can see these different perspectives play in out in real estate listings. In most American states, even in most of the towns I've looked at, you can see a broad spectrum of living conditions (and commercial interpretations of ideal living conditions) - from burnt out trailers, to overpriced renovated shitty older houses with cheap grey vinyl flooring and white walls, to clearly lived-in time capsules to McMansions to actual mansions. Some photographs are clearly shot by owners, others by real estate agents with a great variety of care and attention to detail (from elaborate staging to crime scenes). Rightly or wrongly, I feel like I get a broader, more honest (or at least more direct) feel for the housing crisis. It's a more honest horror film.

Australian listings, I think in part due to concentrations in corporate power in the real estate industry (similar to other monopolies that have formed in our economy), tend to more heavily adhere to the visual language of advertising and are more heavily regulated by agencies. The problems still exist, the housing market here is among the worst in the world and little effort is being made to address the underlying structural issues, but you can see the lack of will to acknowledge these issues in the level of gloss that's applied. You can look at a listing of an older house in Western Australia, for instance, and know for a fact that it's riddled with asbestos and probably has several other structural issues, but most likely enough time and effort will have been spent on staging and lighting and maybe surface-level renovations that it will seem otherwise fine. Lots of turds that have been polished successfully enough that you need insider knowledge to properly identify them as dogshit. Incidentally, I spent part of my childhood in a house built in the 1960s that had asbestos in the walls and ceiling.

I'm still interested in images from Australian listings (and other sources) though, I just look for other things that are interesting. Anything that runs contrary to the artificially positive, limited world view that advertising promotes. Even if its a poorly-lit time capsule that is directly aesthetically opposite to the ideal of house-beauty at the moment, or an obviously run-down house that has had every realtor photography trick in the playbook thrown at it until it becomes deeply uncanny. And it's always interesting to see what other people find interesting; I genuinely think the housing crisis underwrites every other political issue we have to contend with, its tendrils extend in many different directions, and I think this also means imagery like this can reach people in a diversity of ways. Aesthetically, nostalgically, inspiring fear and self-loathing and horror. All good sources of inspiration for creativity.

[unknought]

In 2007 the US Department of Housing and Urban Development started reporting homelessness rates:

As you can see in this chart (from Statista) there was a fairly steady decrease in the number of homeless people from then until 2016. It flattened out for a couple years in 2017 and 2018, and then rose in 2019 and 2020. No data was collected in 2021 (due to COVID) and the increase from 2020 to 2022 was negligible, so one might hope based on the data from this chart that the upward trend was flipping around, and that by now by now it might be on its way back down, but this does not appear to be the case.

For 2023 the Department of Housing and Urban Development reported a homelessness count of 653,104. This is a dramatic increase which blows previous annual changes out of the water. It's a 12.1% increase relative to 2022, an 18.7% increase relative to the low in 2016, and the highest absolute number of homeless people since data started being collected in 2007.

So this is one way, at least, in which standard economic metrics being up has not translated to people doing well.

An objection one can make here is that even this new high is only about 0.2% of the national population, and while things may have gotten worse for the people in the very worst of economic straits, this doesn't say much about what things are like for the rest of us.

I agree with this up to a point. (Probably not the implied argument about what we should care about but let's not get into that for now.) It's probably true that homelessness rates don't shed a lot of light on how the median American is doing. But I think they are relevant to the well-being of a lot more than 0.2% of the population.

Even though only a small proportion of Americans are homeless at any given time, there a lot more for whom the threat of homelessness looms very large in their financial considerations, not irrationally. More people who are homeless probably means more people who can just barely make rent as long as they skip a few meals, more people who stay with an abuser because they wouldn't have anywhere else to stay, more people who can't quit their job to find a better one because they couldn't afford to miss a month's rent, more people who can't move out of a mold-infested apartment, more people who are just struggling with anxiety about whether they're going to be able to make rent every month. It also almost certainly means more people couch-surfing and more people who were homeless for part of the year that happened not to include late January, neither of which would be counted in the official statistics.

How much of an impact does this end up meaning, on how many people? I'm pretty unsure, but here's a suggestive statistic from the Federal Reserve:

> Challenges paying rent increased in 2023. The median monthly rent payment was $1,100 in 2023, up 10 percent from 2022. In addition, 19 percent of renters reported being behind on their rent at some point in the past year, up 2 percentage points from 2022.

It seems at least very plausible to me that claims about how great the US economy is doing merit a substantial asterisk.

[m0llygunn]

deathbed confessions (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

summary: cold and flu season hits you hard but luckily you have your best friend eddie to take care of you. If the cold medicine makes you admit a few things... eddie sure isn't complaining.

contents: 18+, best friends to lovers, r is dramatically sick with a cold (talks about dying but it's just drama), fluff idk a/n: guys i am so sick help me i had to lay on the bathroom floor after braving a shower because i thought i was gonna die (but also i wrote this so maybe im ok) wc: 4.4k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Holy shit, did Halloween come early?” Eddie snickers from the door of your room.

All you can muster up is a low groan and that alone makes you feel like your head is on the brink of explosion. 

“Jesus, you’re really sick, huh?” he says with the huff of a laugh.

You answer with another groan. Yes. You are 'really sick'.

“Can I do something to help?” he replies, the first hint of empathy appearing in his voice.

“Put me out—” you interrupt yourself with a sniffle followed by a phlegmy cough. “—out of my misery.”

You were supposed to be seeing some double feature with Eddie tonight but yesterday, right before bed, you felt the slightest of tickles in your throat. By morning you were the living dead with everything from your big toe to your forehead aching in one way or another. You called Eddie and before you could even mention that you were sick, he knew from your stuffed up voice. 

No matter how many times you told him you’d be fine he was strangely insistent in checking on you at the very least. By the end of the call he’d quickly worn you down and you told him that he has the spare key and he can do whatever he wants but if he gets sick that's his fault— a little mean but arguing was the last thing you felt like doing.

From the time you hung up to now— which has only been a handful of hours, you’ve gotten substantially worse. Earth shatteringly worse. So terribly worse that the simple task of opening your eyes has been too much effort. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and your lungs are just begging for salvation. That’s why when Eddie called twenty minutes ago letting you know he was on his way you told him no. It would have been wise if he listened to you but instead he replied ‘too bad’ and abruptly hung up the phone. 

Cut to twenty minutes later he was at your door, letting himself in. He was willingly walking into his very own death sentence. He clearly thought it was more of a joke than anything.

You hear Eddie’s tell-tale gait as he walks further into your room. You assume that he’s standing over your bed, maybe a hand on the back of his neck, maybe a hand on his hip. Mustering the efforts to confirm your suspicions would take too much of your very limited energy so you continuing laying in your bed, not doing as much as opening an eye.

You hear the ruffle of his hair and he definitely is rubbing the back of his neck as he gauges what to do. 

“So…do you want, like, medicine then?” he asks. 

“A gun,” you croak, earning a deep belly laugh from Eddie.

“At least your humour’s still intact, that’s good to know,” he says, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

You try to shuffle over to make room for him, but that effort alone makes you wince.

“Call an ambulance,” you whine, sniffling pathetically. 

“Really?” he asks, a genuine nervousness creeping into his voice. You feel his hand tug at the blanket you’ve cocooned yourself in, revealing your face for him to see. If you were more cognizant maybe you’d care about Eddie seeing you like this, but you’re too far gone to think about that. 

“No,” you answer, nodding your head up and down in contrast to your answer, earning a huff of relief from Eddie. 

The blanket slackens from his pull and the bed dips deeper as he leans in further to get a better look at you. Once again, if you were more cognizant you’d probably rather he didn’t, but you wouldn’t have the will to fight it anyways.

“Did you take anything?” he asks. 

“It’s been a few hours.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah, whipped up a quick 4 course meal earlier, michelin approved of course,” you mumble. You contemplate cracking an eye open to see his reaction but you don’t. 

“Right, so no food.” 

“No, surprisingly not that hungry when you’re on your deathbed,” you say, sniffling.

“Tell me you’ve at least had water,” he says and from his tone you know that he already knows the answer. 

“I had water until the bottle was empty, then I decided I’d rather succumb to death than get out of bed,”

“Funny, funny girl,” he says dryly, obviously not impressed by your answers. 

“Tombstone quote,” you say weakly, hoping that Eddie gets what you mean. He laughs softly and you consider that enough of a success. 

You hear the slightest bit of shuffling, not Eddie getting up but more like he’s looking around your room. Whatever state it’s in, you couldn’t even work up the courage to care. 

“Do you want a movie on or something?” he asks, breaking the lull in conversation. 

“Would you do that?” you ask, tilting your face towards him despite not opening your eyes. 

“Oh yeah. I’m giving you the mortally ill special— the deathbed works, if you will,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. You do your best to smile back but it’s weak and probably looks more like a grimace. 

You feel shuffling before the bed rises from Eddie standing.

“Okay, so I’m gonna get you medicine first. Then movie, food, and whatever else, deal?”

Your lower lip pouts out appreciatively for the boy you’ve called your best friend for forever now. If you weren’t deathly ill, you’d kiss him.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you whisper, voice getting caught in your throat for an entirely different reason than your cold this time. 

He mumbles back some version of ‘don’t worry about it’ before he’s off, leaving you in the quiet of your room with only your breathing, coughing, and sniffling breaking the silence. It’s barely a few minutes before you hear his footsteps and the edge of your bed dips again. 

“This is what you took right? The cold and flu medicine?”

“Mhm” you hum.

“You have nasal congestion?”

You sniffle loudly and nod.

“Right. Nasal pain, sinus congestion, and sinus pain?”

You hum again, catching onto the fact that he’s reading the symptoms off of the box. 

“Chest congestion?”

Weakly you swat your hand out trying to find Eddie. When you do, you give him the weakest of taps. “Too many questions,” you muster. 

“Well, I know you’re joking about dying but I don’t want to actually kill you,” he says. You hum again.

You hear him fumbling with the cardboard before fumbling with the plastic pill packaging.

“Do you wanna sit up?” he asks.

“I want to die,”

“Well you can’t do that so I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?”

Eddie starts tugging at the blanket and you let your weakened limbs go limp, undoubtedly making the task much harder for him but he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he pulls you up by your underarms, propping you up against your headboard. 

When you feel his cool hands on your forehead, pushing your hair back and out of your face, you open your eyes for the first time since Eddie got here. 

“There she is,” he laughs lightly, still pushing back the disheveled mess that is your hair.

“Your hands feel nice,” you whisper, focusing on the coolness on your skin. Before you have a chance to really absorb the relief of his hands on your skin, he pulls away, grabbing for the water he had set down on your bedside table. 

“Yeah, you’re really hot,” he replies, passing the water to you.

“Tombstone quote,” you say, catching his eye, making him laugh again. With a shaky hand, you take the water.

“Funny and hot, that’s a killer deal.” He hands you the little cold and flu pill and you place it in your mouth, swallowing it down with small sips of the cold water that feels like ice going down your throat. 

You redirect your gaze to Eddie, “you’re gonna get sick, that’s the real killer here,” you say. 

“I’ll be fine,”

“You don’t want this cold, trust me,” you say, taking another sip of water before holding it out to Eddie. 

“I’ll be fine,” he repeats as he takes the water, putting it back on your bedside table. 

You nod. You appreciate Eddie’s help more than anything. Fending for yourself wasn’t exactly going so well— clearly.

“You had this with your other stuff, do you want it?” he asks, holding up the vicks vapor rub.

When you felt the cold coming on you went to the pharmacy and picked up a few things just in case. The vapor rub was on sale and you bought it on a whim but haven’t tried it yet.

“Do you think it really works?”

“Wayne used to put it on me, I guess it does?”

“Where do you put it?”

“On your chest or back,” he answers, looking at the fine print of the packaging. “Yeah, it says chest, throat, and back.”

You open your mouth to reply but instead feel the creeping up of the tickling in your throat. Turning the other way, you do your best to not cough all over Eddie. Sucking in a deep breath, you only trigger another cough that divulges into one of many coughing attacks that you’ve had today. When you’re finally done, you drop your head to the back of the headboard in defeat. 

“C’mon, let’s try it on your back for now,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder encouraging you to lean forward. You move how he wants you without protest.

“I’m just gonna lift up your shirt a bit, okay?” he says, you nod but he pauses, fingers just barely slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Eddie, with the way I’m feeling, you could see me butt ass naked right now and I could not care less,” you say. 

He snorts a laugh before his cool fingers trail up your spine giving you tingles that make you shiver. “Sorry,” he hums but you shake your head. His hand makes contact with your upper back, rubbing the ointment on your skin and it honestly feels incredibly soothing. Whether it’s the rub or the physical contact, you’re not sure, but you’re not questioning it either.

The noise that comes out of you could have been a moan had you not been congested. Instead it comes out like a low, stuffed up groan— not unlike a movie zombie. 

Eddie rubs a few more circles on your back before his hand travels back down your spine. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, helping you sit back up straight.

“So fucking good and like I need you to rub my back like that again,” you say, resting your head back against the headboard. Maybe you put a little too much conviction in your words but that truly felt amazing.

The room is silent and you blink open your eyes to see Eddie holding the tub of rub in his hands, paused halfway through closing it. It takes a moment for him to look up at you but when he does, he smiles softly.

“What movie do you wanna watch?”

Had you not been distracted by your sickness, you might have noticed the faintness of a blush spreading across the tops of Eddie’s cheeks. Coughing and forcing air back into your lungs takes up every ounce of your consciousness though, so you don’t notice. 

You shrug your shoulder taking a deep breath, “anything, I’ll probably pass out from the medicine anyways,” you reply, turning away again to cough. 

Eddie hums before he’s moving to your dresser opposite your bed, angling the TV for you to see it better. 

“Sixteen Candles, Children of the Corn, Gremlins, Teen Wolf?” he says, listing off the titles of the different tapes you have sprawled next to the vcr. 

“Any.” 

“Gremlins seems kind of relevant,” he says, pulling open the clamshell box.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask. Eddie turns to you, smirk spreading across his lips.

“Nothing,” he sings lightly. He turns away from you, pushing the tape into the player and then pressing the combination of buttons to get it working. 

“You better not be implying that I look like a gremlin because—” you interrupt yourself with another cough that quickly divulges into yet another coughing fit— worse than the last. 

With each cough being so strong it makes your head pound. You don’t notice Eddie crossing your room or him settling back on the edge of your bed. You only notice his presence when he’s encouraging you forward, hand rubbing your back again. 

When your coughing finally calms down enough for you to take a good breath, Eddie brings the glass of water up for you to take a sip. You take the cup in your hands, guiding it to your mouth. At the same time, Eddie never fully lets go of the cup, making sure it doesn’t spill. You take a drink, nodding when you’re done and he sets it back down, hand still running up and down your back. 

“It’s probably just the rub working, getting all that nasty stuff out,” he says softly. 

You nod again, letting your head fall to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s probably not the smartest idea to be so close to him because you're pretty much sentencing him to his demise, but with how terrible you feel you’re desperate for anything to make it better— and right now the only thing making anything better is Eddie. 

“The medicine’ll kick in any minute and you’ll feel much better, okay? I’ll go get you something to eat and then I can rub your back some more. How’s that sound?” he says softly, brushing the edge of your face with his chin as he tilts his face downwards towards yours. 

Your lower lip pouts out again and you feel your eyes water behind your closed lids. Maybe you were already hyper emotional from feeling so sick, but Eddie being so sweet is also doing a number on you.

“Sounds really nice,” you whisper, sucking in a breath.

“You’ll be okay,” Eddie whispers, hand switching from rubbing up and down your back to rubbing circles at the top of your back. “I’ll take care of you, I got you.”

Before the tears in your eyes have a chance to breach your waterline, Eddie’s shifting beside you, leaning you back against the headboard with the promise of being quick while he gets you food. Only once he’s gone and you’re left alone in your room do you notice Gremlins has already started playing. Opening your eyes, you spare a few glances at the screen that distract you from your teary eyed state.

As Eddie promised, he was pretty quick in his return. You could hear him the whole time, kitchen utensils clanking and cupboard doors closing. Maybe all concept of time is lost on you right now, but it seemed like barely any time had passed before he was taking slow, careful steps back towards your room.

“Alright— got that soup you like, got crackers, and got you some juice,” Eddie announces as he situates the dishware on your bedside table. “I even made sure not to warm the soup too much so you can eat it right away,” he says.

Eyes closed again, you don’t know what you expected him to do but him manhandling you took you by surprise. A hand slid behind your back and another under your upper thighs, he was sliding you right over on the mattress.

“Just giving myself some space here,” he says absentmindedly as he fixes your blanket around you. He quickly settles in next to you before grabbing the sleeve of crackers and settling them in front of you and grabbing the bowl of soup.

Sitting with his legs stretched out next to yours, you let your head dip to his shoulder again, this time like a silent thank you where you cozy your head against him, not unlike a cat.

“For the record, you’re more like Gizmo,” he says, a tease intruding in his voice.

“Hm?” you hum questioningly.

“You don’t look like a gremlin, you’re cute like Gizmo,” he says.

You sink your face further into the crook of Eddie's shoulder, lip jetting out once more. He’s done nothing more than call you a cute gremlin rather than an evil gremlin, yet you feel yourself turning misty eyed yet again. This time you squeeze your eyes shut, closing them on purpose, hiding your sickness induced emotions.

“Soups gonna get cold,” Eddie says, twisting his neck to look at you again. “C’mon, it’ll be better for you if you eat it warm,” he says, using his free arm to move you.

Once you’re finally propped up again in an appropriate position to eat, you feel Eddie’s hand on your cheek— no doubt becoming aware of your tears.

“You okay?” he asks softly, thumb rubbing under your cheek.

“You’re being so nice to me,” you explain, sniffling back your need to cry.

“Just taking care of you. Want you to feel better,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet. 

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, just gotta eat your soup, okay Gizmo?” Eddie says, making you snort out a snotty laugh before sucking it all back in with an apology that he quickly dismisses. 

You take a few breaths, getting your tears under control. Shifting your focus to the soup, Eddie holds the bowl close to you while you slowly feed yourself spoonful after spoonful. 

“Crackers?” Eddie offers.

“Maybe one.”

“How ‘bout two?” he replies, peeling back the plastic and pulling two out for you. You nod softly before taking them from him. 

You feel yourself running out of energy and it’s exasperating that all it took was lifting a spoon to your lips a measly few times. When you let the crackers sit in your lap for too long, Eddie turns to look at you, resting the bowl of soup down in his lap. 

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Tired,” you answer. 

“Just finish those and you can be done, okay?” he says, meeting your gaze. You shake your head.

“Can’t,” you reply.

“You can,” he says, turning his torso to put the bowl of soup on the table. He turns back around, reaching for the crackers in your hand. “Know you can,” he repeats, bringing the crackers to your lips.

“Eddie—” you try to protest.

“Bite,” he says, cutting you off and nudging the cracker into your mouth. 

You bite, giving into him. It feels weird being hand fed. It’s probably even weirder when two bites in you close your eyes in an effort to conserve your energy. Regardless, Eddie doesn’t say anything besides positive affirmations about how good you’re doing which you really, really appreciate. 

“How about you drink some of this,” he says, reaching for the glass of juice as you chew the last bite of cracker. “Then I’ll help you lay down and I can rub your back s’more?”

“You don’t have to if you wanna go home, you've been here a long time,” you say, swallowing the dryness of the cracker down. 

Eddie lifts the cup of juice to your lips, tipping it back for you to sip at. When you take more than a few drinks, you lift a hand lightly pushing the cup away. Blinking your eyes open you look at Eddie as he returns the cup to sit with the other dishware on your bedside table. 

“I’m serious, Eddie. You can go home if you want,”

“Don’t want to,”

“You’re gonna be— you interrupt yourself with a yawn this time. “—gonna be so sick,” you say groggily.

“Just let me cuddle you, you know you want it,” he says, a teasing tone hinting in his voice. You blink open your eyes again to see a genuine smile as he looks at you—one that shouldn’t be there considering how gross you feel and are sure you look. Despite that, it’s there and you do want cuddles so you nod softly, making a weak, sad attempt at getting closer to Eddie.

Eddie meets your attempt by gently pulling you down the mattress. He maneuvers you to have your head resting on his chest while his arm snakes around you, rubbing circles on your back. With the sleepiness settling in and your cold symptoms dialing back due to the medicine, you can’t help but hum happily. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he says quietly.

It feels beyond good. Good is an understatement. Having him take care of you like this is making you feel mushy and only highlights your feelings for Eddie. In combination with your partially delusionally, sleepy state the only thing on your mind is expressing your feelings, all of them true no matter how far out of it you are at this point. 

“Eddie, if I die, just know that I love you,” you mutter into the fabric of his shirt. 

“That’s just the cold medicine talking,” Eddie laughs softly. You find the energy to shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, love you,” you repeat. “Love you so much.”

It’s faint, maybe he whispered it or maybe it’s the fact that you were slipping into sleep but you heard it. 

“I love you too,” he says quietly. 

As if those words gave you a short lived second life, it had you perking up, desperately needing to clarify just in case he didn’t understand. 

“But Eddie I love you as my best friend but also more than that— I love you so much.”

He leaves you in silence but you don’t have the clear consciousness to overthink it, you just keep talking.

“I don’t even care if you don’t like me like that, I love you Eddie.”

“I love you too. Love you a lot, but I think we should talk about this when you’re not tired and on cold medicine, okay?” he whispers softly. 

As your thoughts start to drift, you focus on the first half of Eddie's sentiment. He loves you— and he loves you a lot. With that on your mind, intermixed with the comforting friction of his hand on your back, you fall into the deepest and most comfortable sleep of your life despite being so sick. Eddie loves you. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Arguably, the best thing that came out of your cold was your confession. It was bound to happen eventually and although it did sort of seem like a deathbed confession at the time, it was genuine— that of which you clarified for Eddie. To your fortune, he also clarified that his reply was true as well. Beyond that, you were still sick and neither of you had done much more than just sharing those little words that one night. So yes, arguably, that's the best thing that came out of your sickly state; however, in your opinion, you think the best thing that happened was that you got Eddie sick too. 

It was less than a day after you started feeling normal again that Eddie was running a fever. He ended up staying at your place for the majority of your sickness but he had left once to get some things for himself. Since he had his stuff here already, you offered for him to stay over at yours while you returned the favor of playing doctor. 

Eddie took on a much different position as a sick person than you did. Undeniably, you both were on the dramatic end of things but while your cynical humour came out during your time being sick, Eddie was much different in how expressed himself.

Normally, a very touchy feely person, his affectionate side heightened tenfold while he was sick. He was all grabby hands, wanting you closer to him. Maybe it was because the two of you had broken the touch barrier while you were sick or maybe Eddie just turned into a touch deprived baby when he was sick, you’ll never know, but you didn’t deny him of the cuddles that you so dearly appreciated while you were under the weather. 

The most interesting part— which shouldn't have came as a surprise, was that not only did he appreciate holding you, but he intensely appreciated you holding him, whether that be hands scratching his head as he rested it on your stomach, or your arms wrapped around him from behind making him the little spoon. Additionally, he was also incredibly affectionate with his words, constantly telling you how grateful he was for you and how much he appreciated you. 

Your favourite confession came late one night, probably at the peak of his sickness. Fairly similar to your deathbed confession, but a moment to remember regardless.

You had just finished helping him eat, similar to how he had done for you, and were cuddling with him, smoothing your hands over his side as he rested his head on your chest. 

The medicine was kicking in, making him drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he let sleep take him over. He had kept babbling random thoughts but as he got more and more tired he was eventually reduced to heavy breaths. That was, until he titled his face up to yours. You looked down at him, meeting his sleepy eyes.

“I love you,” he said. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Eddie,” you replied, smiling.

“But I love you so much,” he said, voice returning to its babbling cadence. “Love you so much I wanna kiss you and love you and—” his babbling started to slowly fade as his head got heavier on your chest. You couldn’t help but laugh softly as your heart swelled.

You smoothed a hand over his face, brushing back his hair as you stared at him with nothing but love for your very, very sick boy. Like you had given him a second wind, his babbling started up again. 

“Wanna marry you. Love you so much wanna marry you,” he said, words slurring.

“Think you’ll have to ask me on a date first, cutie,” you replied quietly, partially under the impression that he was already asleep. 

“I will. Love you so much, I will,” he mumbled and with that, he was out like a light. 

From there, the rest was history. If curious minds were to inquire, you would say that Eddie’s always been very good at keeping his promises, and mindless babbling or not, he meant every word that he confessed in his sickly, drowsy state. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

thank you! <3

[honeekyuu]

love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter one.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

or

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

masterlist. || next.

a/n: i have a lot of feelings about these two. welcome to those feelings.

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

Sendai Frogs Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei Caught in Heated Argument with Fan

Sendai’s Tsukishima Kei Breaks Paparazzi Camera

Sendai Frogs Player Threatens Reporter Outside Home

You sigh, scrolling down the list of news articles that had populated when you’d entered his name into the search bar. 

“This fucking guy.”

The top links are all reports of his most recent altercation, his newest scandal, the next thing he’s done wrong. Only a few talk about his performance during a game – luckily, he’s beyond talented and had drawn in a substantial amount of the Frogs’ fanbase, so his… poorer points have been overlooked by their management.

Until now.

You sigh again, remembering the text you’d woken up to this morning.

[5:07 AM]

Tsukki: im fucked

Tsukki: management called me in for a morning meeting

Tsukki: come over tn?

You’d groaned, instantly exasperated. You texted back that you would expect him to have dinner ordered by the time you arrived and left it at that, going about your day with a feeling that this had been the last straw for him.

Because Tsukishima Kei had always been trouble.

The boy you’d known in elementary school had been sweet and playful, but he’d had a mischievous streak. It had paired well with your general tendency toward chaos, and your friendship had been built on shared scoldings from teachers and parents.

The boy from middle school – the one who’d learned about betrayal – had been snarky and bitter, tongue sharp and words crafted to draw blood. Stones pelted at those who’d ever spoken ill of you – you, growing into wider-set hips and chubbier thighs than the other girls. You, who’d always hid your insecurities behind Tsukki, your wild smile and silly demeanor keeping others from seeing how painful stones could truly be. 

He’d been almost imperceptibly softer with you – just a bit gentler, lacking the same heat that had scared others off – but he’d still cut you a handful of times. Retorts thrown too quickly in times of high stress, sarcastic comments snapped at your heels a little too thoughtlessly. But you’d always been tough — turned by the cruelty of a few mean boys and girls into something just sharp enough to handle his temper — and he’d learned that he should take care not to cross any real lines with you.

He’d still managed to cross a few in high school, and you’d taught him that you hadn’t been joking. He’d had to learn that the words ‘ I’m sorry ’ were hard to say, but that having you ignore him was harder. 

And one day, those words had stopped working, too. Because a friend shouldn’t lash out enough to need them as often as he always had.

Tsukishima Kei had learned – in the middle of your third year at Karasuno, when a fight had gotten to a point worse than things had ever been between you – what it might mean to lose you. You’d walked away from him that day, and you’d gone weeks without speaking to him. He’d finally shown up at your door after a home game, drenched in the torrential downpour that had started so suddenly that you’re still convinced the universe had put you in a dramatic movie moment on purpose.

But he’d stood there anyway, waiting you out until you’d be willing to talk. Because you’d never once missed a game of his, and because – even if he’d been trying everything to get your attention since your fight – it was starting to feel like this was the nail in the coffin of your friendship. And he simply couldn’t have that. You could yell at him – bicker and snap and fight – but your silence was unacceptable.

He’d stood there at your door, blond hair plastered to his forehead and rain-covered glasses hiding his eyes completely, as you’d beaten his walls down to nothing. Screaming, you’d gone on and on about his lack of consideration and care for you – about every moment that had felt like a punch to the gut when nothing of the sort should be allowed in a friendship – until you’d run out of breath. Until all you could do was stand there on your doorstep and sob, the storm drowning you out to everyone but him.

He hadn’t said a single word, only stepping up to you once you’d stopped and wiping your snot-covered face with the front of his drenched volleyball shirt.

“ Okay, ” He’d finally mumbled, voice thick with regret as you’d cried into his chest. “ I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. ”

You two hadn’t had a single problem since. Things had gone back to normal, with Tsukki toeing the line but, without fail, never crossing it.

You’d been secretly glad he hadn’t changed all that much. He was still the same. He was still Tsukki.

The rest of high school had passed by in a series of rolled eyes and exasperated comments. College had started just the same, with new friends made and roommates come and gone, but Tsukishima Kei right where he’s always been. People here were less rude, less judgmental of your size and the unapologetic demeanor that had been built because of it. You’d made friends here, although never ones that could compare to the Karasuno Volleyball boys, who still float in your social orbit even now. Shimizu Kiyoko floats closer still, one of your dearest friends to this day.

And, still , already three years into college, Tsukki’s what he’s always been. 

Brutally honest and annoyingly coarse.

Sarcastic at best and a cloud of misery at worst.

Immovably loyal and at your side without question.

He’s the same as always, if not a bit more mature with age. Your relationship’s developed into one of constant exasperation, witnessing his every moment of idiocy into adulthood. He’s a nightmare to have a serious conversation with, but you’ve learned that he always listens, even when he wants to do anything but that. Your arguments are frequent, but never serious.

Any hint of a real fight is always squashed promptly under his feet, his hands calming on your shoulders and his tone losing its edge the moment he’d spot the telltale signs of your anger – he’d always give in first, even with a personality as stubborn as his. The balance between his commonplace sarcasm and something more serious is a delicate one, but he’d managed to find it with you. 

The issue, however, is that you are the exception.

Tsukishima had been recruited by the Sendai Frogs in your third year, playing successfully and renewing the year-long contract for the following school year – the unspoken agreement being a full-time professional contract with them after graduation. He’d been sheltered, in a way, last year, because it had been a soft launch – a trial run to see how he’d do, how the Frogs fans would take to him.

As it turns out, the road to going pro comes with as many problems as it does benefits.

Upon signing the contract for this year, the Frogs management had officially introduced their It Boy to the world. 

Tsukishima Kei – 21 years old, Middle Blocker. 

He’d been thrown into an unending schedule at the beginning of the year – any time outside of practice and games is taken by interviews, sponsorships, media promotion. His face and name had been plastered over billboards and brand collabs, the Sendai Frogs’ Middle Blocker a player slated to bring the volleyball world to its knees.

But the most important, truly – the thing that had started all his problems – is the invasion of privacy.

He’d managed to make it to the start of summer vacation while juggling the newfound fame, but – with the halfway point of his temporary contract approaching quickly – the Frogs fans had recently become rabid. People clambering over each other in classes to get a better look at him, baristas writing their number on his coffee cups at cafes (and then posting his coffee order online, of course), and his face posted all over the internet. Every miniscule move he makes is posted to Twitter – his class schedules, his mealtimes, his practice hours. Paparazzi at his apartment, at his car, at his classes.

He’s everywhere, and that’s too much, even for him.

He and Yamaguchi had had to move to a gated, private townhouse together, unable to stay in their dingy off-campus apartment anymore – too many people had tried the locks and camped out in front for a single glimpse of the up and coming star athlete. 

You hadn’t escaped the public eye unscathed, either. You’d seen enough comments about yourself online – what your relationship with Tsukishima Kei might be, and why it always seemed just non-platonic enough to be questionable but completely unable to be pinned down. What you may or may not be gaining from hanging around this rising heartthrob, and – notably – how you could possibly think he’d be interested in you, given your… physical attributes.

You’d learned to be good at ignoring those comments, but it hadn’t come without damage. Damage that had taken the form of quiet arguments with Tsukki about not wanting to go out into the world with him, irritated demands that you not let the irrelevant comments of a few internet trolls affect your friendship. More than a few instances of Tadashi and Kiyoko showing up to your door with takeout and some reassurances, Tsukki’s barrage of whiny texts set aside for a night.

It had gotten easier over the summer, your ability to ignore the public’s opinion not necessarily stronger, but your ability to hide the effects of it certainly solidified. You manage to shake off the minor stress that comes with leaving your little studio apartment every morning, and you’re happy with the balance of your private and public life by Tsukishima Kei’s side.

What you’re not happy with – very crucially – is his inability to keep his name out of the tabloids for picking fights with paparazzi.

– 

By the time you make it to his townhouse, it’s well past 5pm and you’re nearly dead on your feet from the full day of work and classes. School’s just picked up again, and your professors seem to not know the meaning of ‘syllabus week’. 

Tadashi answers the door, glancing over your shoulder at the poorly hidden paparazzi across the street before gesturing you into the house.

“He’s not here.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?” Where the hell-

“I am now.” 

You turn, finding Tsukki just behind you in the doorway, a bag of takeout in hand and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He shuts the door and kicks off his shoes, eyeing the narrow glare you’re giving him.

“Got something to say?”

Your tone is sharp. “Did you really break a reporter’s camera last night?”

He nods, not even a little bit ashamed. “He was sitting on my car after practice, waiting for me. And then he wouldn’t get off of it.”

You sigh while Yamaguchi nods understandingly. 

“Yeah, alright, that’s annoying…”

“ Annoying isn’t enough to justify my reaction, apparently.” He shakes his head, following the two of you into the kitchen. He leaves the bag on the island for you to unpack and disappears down the hall toward his bedroom to change. You withdraw containers of curry and set about serving three plates of it, navigating their kitchen without issue.

Tadashi mumbles quietly beside you. “How fucked is he?”

You shake your head, sighing again. “Infinitely fucked, I’d say.”

“You saw the look in his eye?” He cuts a questioning glance at you, his concern apparent. You just nod, pouring out drinks for the group.

“He’s not telling us something.”

“ He’s right here.”

You both look up, finding Tsukki in the doorway with a pinched scowl and high, tensed shoulders. He lifts a brow at you.

“I’m fine. ”

You and Tadashi make brief eye contact before snorting in unison and pushing past him to the living room with the food. You take a corner of the couch, and Yamaguchi occupies the armchair beside you.

“So, what’d they say?” You ask. 

“Off the team yet?” He follows up with a joking smile.

No one acknowledges the underlying nerves you’re both displaying when you look Tsukki over. As much as he needs to get his attitude in check, neither of you can fathom a world in which the Frogs had let him go.

Tsukki flops down on the other end of the couch and breathes out a quiet sigh, slumping back into the cushions. “Management is unhappy with the reputation I’ve created for myself.”

You nod, taking a bite. You’d expected that.

“Okay…?” You draw your knees up under yourself, watching him stare up at the ceiling.

“They have asked-” He lifts his brows, considering something. “-well, more like threatened – that I make a major change to my lifestyle in order to fix the growing impression of me before it becomes ‘solidified’,” He quotes with his fingers, smiling mirthlessly. “Or my full-time contract’s on the line. They want me to find something to make me seem more…” He trails off, staring off to the side now, in your general direction.

“Pleasant. Approachable. Relatable. Soft.” He shrugs. “That kind of thing.”

Months of watching Tsukki adjust to the celebrity lifestyle makes translating this a breeze. 

“They want you to get a girlfriend,” Yamaguchi concludes, spooning curry into his mouth.

He laughs bitterly. “And they want it fast.”

You take another bite, shrugging when he looks over at you. “Better get to downloading dating apps, then.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re enjoying this.” He tugs his phone out of his pocket, anyway, glancing briefly at his roommate. “You’re both enjoying this.”

“Well, you didn’t get kicked off the team, so-” Yamaguchi relaxes, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Mm-hm-” You agree. “You did this to yourself.” And then you scoot in, watching him download a few apps. “Cast your phone to the TV so we can watch.”

“You’re funny- hey- ” 

You snatch his phone away, connecting his phone to the TV and projecting his open Tinder screen. You slap his hands when he reaches for you, setting his profile up for him in a matter of minutes. He snorts.

“Experienced in online dating?”

“Gotta do something to pass the time in between classes.” 

You only realize how it sounds when they both eye you in amused surprise. Tsukki sits up to look at you properly, scandalized and face split in a wide grin. “Gotta do what in between classes, exactly?” 

“Wait-”

Tadashi giggles into his hands, sinking low in the armchair, and Tsukki shakes his head, tutting in disappointment at you.

“That’s a crazy thing to admit out loud, Y/n-”

“Shut up ,” You shove him, tossing his phone back and then pointing at the TV. “Start swiping.”

He relaxes back into the couch with a laugh, and the three of you eat your dinner with the entertainment of the night.

–

“Pass.”

“Aw, she’s cute.”

“Exactly. Girls who are cute usually can’t handle me.”

“...Was that a reference to his personality or to sex?” You ask, eyeing Tadashi fearfully.

He shakes his head beside you. “Better not to ask, I fear.”

Tsukki’s suspicious grin is enough for your lip to curl in disgust.

“Ew.”

“I’m just being honest,” He shrugs, unapologetic.

You lay a hand on his shoulder, speaking down to him like he’s a child. “Well, if you don’t start swiping right on cute girls, your contract’s going up in flames, sweetheart.”

“ Ugh -” Tsukki groans loudly, throwing his phone down on the couch. “This isn’t working. None of these girls are the right fit.”

“Then maybe your standards shouldn’t be literally impossible to meet!” Yamaguchi throws his hands up in exasperation. “We’ve been at this a whole hour, and you’ve only swiped right on one girl.”

“Yeah, but she had nice tits,” He admits plainly.

You and Yamaguchi stare, deadpan. “You’re terrible,” You say eventually.

“Yeah,” Tsukki sighs. “I know.” He takes a breath, and then he’s turning to you with wide eyes. “Oh, hey! You have nice tits, too – you be my girlfriend.”

Yamaguchi promptly chokes on his drink, and you reach to yank the pillow out from under Tsukki’s head.

“Stop-” You smack him in the face with it repeatedly. “-Being. Gross.”

“It was a compliment!” He laughs, blocking his head and then catching the pillow with ease. You enter into an unwilling match of tug-of-war. “And I already know our personalities work together, so I don’t have to go through the pain of a talking stage!”

You eye him with suspicion, pulling the pillow toward you. “You’re not actually considering this.” You look back at Yamaguchi. “He’s not actually considering this, right?”

Your friend just stares, shocked.

Tsukki pulls hard on the pillow, catching you off guard and launching you toward him. “Oh, I most certainly am.”

“Tsukishima Kei-” You tug, hard. He resists. “Get that thought out of your head right now.”

“Come on-” He argues. “We are clearly a match made in Heaven.”

“In Hell, you mean!” You laugh. “There’s no way!” You look at Yamaguchi in panic. “Help me!”

The man just shrugs uselessly. “This conversation wasn’t on my bingo card for the year. I’m stumped.”

Tsukki rolls his eyes. “Come on, Y/n. It’s not like you’ve got guys lined up outside your door-”

“How would you know?” You snap, a little offended. “I could be going on dates every night-”

“When would you have time for that? You’re with me most nights.” He leans in, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Even more evidence that we should just date.”

“Get away from me-” You push him back with your foot, putting distance between you. He just grabs your ankle and pulls you toward him, and you scream as you’re dragged down the length of the couch. 

Tsukki starts to clamber over you, but that finally sets Yamaguchi in motion, the boy standing quickly and yanking Tsukki by his hair back to the other side of the couch.

“Play nice, you freak,” He says, smacking the blond hard on the forehead. Tsukki just laughs, one of those rare laughs that makes you forget why you were ever mad in the first place.

“Okay, okay!” He yells, struggling to be freed from Yamaguchi’s torture.

You crawl back to your corner, kicking him for good measure while you go. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Tsukki argues, still smiling wide. “This is literally a win-win.” He fixes himself, keeping an eye on Yamaguchi while he talks, because the freckled boy is grabbing a magazine off the coffee table and rolling it up. “We��re good together.”

“This is only a win-win for you,” You fight, listing things off and ticking them on your fingers as you go. “You’re annoying, arrogant, have poor impulse control and a short temper, and– importantly – we don’t even like each other!” You throw your hands out as best you can, emphasizing it. “Why would we date when we’re not attracted to each other?”

He doesn’t answer, only flicking his gaze down the length of your body appreciatively before meeting your eyes again. He sees that you’ve seen it, your gaze wary, and he grins wickedly.

“Who’s ‘we’?” 

That earns him a rolled magazine to the head.

“I’m just saying,” He laughs. “Just think of how much Management would like it if I found a girlfriend right away, and one that they know is good for me-”

“Alright-” You plant your feet on the floor with an irritated sigh, suddenly tired of this conversation. “-don’t bring them into this to guilt-trip me.” You stand, clearly making to leave.

Tsukki’s smile drops, and he stands quickly, his jokes forgotten. “What? Wait-” His eyes are wide, betraying genuine surprise. You frown, and his eyes track it. He gauges your annoyance, seeing that it’s starting to tip into something more.

“Okay,” He breathes, suddenly quite serious. He holds his hands out toward you carefully, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you back to the couch with him. Yamaguchi perches on the arm of the couch, observing quietly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tsukki tries. “I actually kinda do think we’d be good together.” When you don’t seem to believe it, he tries again. “And I’m not trying to guilt-trip you. I do think Management genuinely knows that you’re good for me-”

You know that, too. You know that Management has always liked you. That’s why this idea scares you just a little bit.

Because it’s feasible.

“No one’s going to believe that we’re together if we clearly-” You swallow hard and gesture between you. “-don’t have that kind of kind of chemistry, Tsukki.”

He shrugs. “It’s not that hard to act. We have the friendship chemistry, so we’re not uncomfortable. We would just need to add-”

“Holding hands? Kissing? Entirely different body language? Clear physical attraction?” You argue, lifting your brows.

He nods like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Yeah. That’s not that bad.”

You level him with a meaningful look. “Tsukishima.” You smile bitterly when he blinks at the use of his full name. “ Look at me.”

Tadashi makes a noise of protest over Tsukki’s shoulder, clearly disapproving of where you’re going with this, but the blond just stares.

“I am looking at you.”

You laugh, shaking your head and standing again. “Good luck with Tinder, Tsukki, but I’m outta here-”

There’s a 6’3” wall in your way when you try to leave.

“You really need to get over that shit.”

You whip your head up to look into Tsukki’s eyes, affronted.

“ Excuse me?”

He’s unyielding, golden eyes hard on yours. “I’m not taking that as a valid reason. Come up with something else if you really don’t want to do this.”

“Tsukki-”

“Give me a better reason, Y/n.”

“It makes no sense, Tsukishima!” You scoff, all but laughing in his face. “Not a single person is going to believe that we’re together. We’re going to look stupid together-”

“I don’t think we look stupid together,” He cuts you short, turning to Yamaguchi. “Do you think we look stupid together?”

Tadashi flicks his gaze back and forth from Tsukki’s to yours, clearly torn. When he sighs and it becomes clear he’s about to take Tsukki’s side, you gape at him.

“Yamaguchi!”

He gives you a regretful look. “It’s not unreasonable , Y/n. People already wonder what you two are, anyway.” He rolls his eyes when you stare at him in disbelief, lifting his hands helplessly. “We all know you balance him out. Think of the good you could do, whipping this idiot into shape.”

Tsukki turns to you with a victorious smile, eyebrows lifted. “Consider me whipped.”

You groan, snatching your bag off the floor and pushing past them. “Goodbye.”

Tsukki’s slipping his shoes on at the door with you, only snatching his keys from the bowl when you shoot him a questioning glare.

“It’s getting late,” is all he says as he props the door open for you.

You’re about to remind him that 7pm in the summer is not that late, but the flash of a camera catches your attention. You turn, shielding your eyes from the paparazzi snapping pictures at the end of the driveway.

“Don’t you have a family to spend time with or something?” Tsukki says over your head, his voice tense.

You elbow him hard. “You really gotta stop giving them what they want,” You grumble, stomping down the front steps. The blink of Tsukki’s headlights and the gentle purr of his car remote-starting is the only response he gives you, and you trudge over to the passenger-side door. You wave tiredly at the cameraman standing just past the gate and give him a smile.

“I’d love to say he’s above hitting you with his car, but he’s having a bad day.”

The man chuckles at your joke. “I suppose I shouldn’t take any chances, then.” He takes a few more photos, but he steps out of the way regardless.

Tsukki stares at you when you settle in next to him with a sigh.

“How do you do that? I had to break a guy’s camera to get his ass off the hood of my car.”

You shrug, closing your eyes and leaning against the headrest. “It’s not groundbreaking work, Tsukki. Try being nice once in a while.”

He drives you home in silence.

You keep your eyes on the sideview mirror, watching the unmarked van that’s trailing the car the whole way there.

What would be the difference, really, if you pretend to date Tsukishima Kei? You already get followed home and to classes. You already hear all the whispers when you walk anywhere with him. You’re already all over the internet, comments about your body plastered everywhere for the world to see.

It doesn’t really matter that you’re not interested in Tsukki, does it? It’d be laughable for anyone to question that you could fall for him – he’s tall and objectively gorgeous. Everyone wants him.

The issue is you.

You’ve seen the girls he goes home with at parties.

Your eyes shift from the unmarked van to your own reflection, and you chuckle under your breath.

Yes, you’re good for Tsukishima Kei – you manage his unacceptably short temper. You support him unconditionally and keep him in check. You always have. You’re everything Management needs from him.

But the issue is still you.

“Would you cut it out?”

You blink, turning to look at Tsukki’s side profile while he drives. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other tapping an irritated rhythm on the middle console. He shifts his eyes briefly in your direction before lifting them to watch the van behind you, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

“What?” You say, the silence in the car a bit suffocating.

“I’m asking you to cut it the fuck out. Whatever’s going on in your head – cut it out.”

You lift a brow. “And what would that be?”

“I don’t know, Y/n – whatever insane shit you think about yourself.” He shakes his head, pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex. Thankfully, it’s a big one with hundreds of units, and the paparazzi have always had the sense not to follow you in.

He pulls up to the main door, putting the car in park and leaning back in his seat with a tight sigh. You both watch the van pull up in front of you, the man on the passenger’s side hopping out and snapping photos of the two of you staring back at him.

“Look,” He says quietly, in a way that reeks of an oncoming argument. You can see him gripping the middle console like he’s stopping himself from getting out of the car. “I know what people say about you. The comments they make about your body and your looks and everything else.”

You stare out the window, nodding. It’s amazing how desensitized you’ve become to the barrage of flashing lights that comes with Tsukishima Kei. “I’ve been hearing it since we were kids-”

“Yeah, exactly. Since we were kids , Y/n. Are you gonna let this be an issue for the rest of our lives?”

You look at him, your skin flushing with anger. “What are you trying to say? It’s not like you have the same problems I do.”

He meets your eyes, gaze burning. “I’m telling you to get the fuck over yourself. Are you gonna listen to a bunch of assholes who don’t matter? Or are you gonna listen to me ?” When your jaw drops, he pushes. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine. I’ll let it go. But not if this is your reason.”

“My reason, Kei -” You spit, matching his anger. “-is that I don’t feel like being the laughing stock of your little fanbase.”

“And you think this is gonna stop them?” He smiles, but it’s irritated. “You want me to find some supermodel to date? You think they won’t make comparisons between you and the girl on my arm?”

You hadn’t thought of that.

That you wouldn’t be the pathetic, pining girl trailing after Tsukishima Kei anymore.

You’d be the jealous friend.

Pathetic, pining, jealous little Y/n.

A light flashes in your periphery, and a headline flashes with it – a week from now, when the Sendai Frogs have confirmed his new, unnamed girlfriend to the public.

Tsukishima Kei and Friend Y/l/n Y/n Seen Arguing – New Relationship the Cause?

You’re unable to stop the aggravated growl that spills out when you sigh through your nose.

“They think they know who you are, Y/n. But they don’t. They fucked it up.” Tsukki keeps your gaze locked on his – his eyes are dangerous, like he’s predicting the headlines, too.

He leans toward you. “So show them,” He says. “ Show them who you are.”

You lean forward, too, your face a little too close to his. 

“And how do you suggest I do that, Kei?”

The camera flashes, and your chest flickers with some unknown excitement.

His smile is wicked, mocking.

“ Fix me.” He lifts a brow when you glare, doubling down. “Or be the girl that watches someone else do it.”

You kind of want to kill him.

–

You lie facedown on your bed for hours that night, listening as Kiyoko laughs on your couch. She lives in the same complex, only a few floors above you, and she’d made the long journey all the way here just to laugh at you.

She stays with you the whole night, laughing until she cries. And then she laughs some more, because that picture of you in Tsukki’s car is already circulating the internet.

“You’re so fucked,” Kiyoko heaves between breaths, sometime around 2am. She’d moved to the bed with you hours ago, scrolling through Twitter and showing you some of the more unhinged reactions to the photo.

[12:24 AM] TsukkiFan0927 : no because they MUST be fucking????

[1:07 AM] user9329348 : those two have always been so shady together,,, no way that this is new

[1:46 AM] TsukkiYnShipper : TSUKKIYN NATION WE RIDE AT DAWN

You just groan, dragging your phone out and pulling up your text thread with Tsukki.

[2:09 AM]

You: my life would be so peaceful without you in it

He responds immediately.

Tsukki: ill pick you up tomorrow <3

Tsukishima Kei is nothing but trouble.

–

There are an unusual amount of paparazzi outside your apartment complex the next morning.

You stop short when you exit the building, taken aback.

Everyone stares back, no lights flashing. They just stare.

“Uh-Good morning?” You say, blinking at the group of about 15 people. One or two wave in greeting, but no one else wants to break the seal.

No one wants to ask, not yet.

You pull out your phone, about to text Tsukki to hurry the fuck up before things get weirder, but you hear the purr of his car pulling into the lot before you can send it.

The seal breaks all at once.

You lose sight of the car, flashing lights all going off at the same time and effectively blinding you.

You hear your name, over and over again.

“ Y/n, is it true? ���

“ Over here, Y/n! ”

“ What did you two talk about in his car last night, Y/n ?”

There’s a hand on your arm, wrapped tight around your bicep. You inhale sharply, worried that you’re about to be mauled on the very first day of dating Tsukishima Kei.

“ Move your feet, dumbfuck. ”

Oh. It’s him.

“ Mm-kay ,” You mumble, letting Tsukki drag you to his car and all but throw you in the front seat.

Somehow, the lights are worse in here, and you can’t tell if your name is still being called or if that’s just an echo ringing in your ears.

Tsukki climbs in beside you and slams the door. “Put your seatbelt on.”

“Why?” You ask, already grabbing for it. 

He shifts gears jerkily, and you go flying against the door as he peels out of the lot.

“Tsukki!” You scold, hearing his tires squeal against the pavement.

“You were too slow,” He jokes, eyes on the rearview mirror. You turn, spotting the army of vans that are following behind him.

“Dude,” You breathe, sinking down into the seat. “It was one picture .” 

“Regret anything yet?” He says, catching the light just before it turns red and leaving all the vans behind.

“I regret everything,” You say without hesitation. “All of it. Every second.”

When he doesn’t respond, you turn to him. He’s got his eyes on the road and the mirrors, seemingly calm. But his teeth wear down on the inside of his lip, and he’s not sparing you a single glance.

You sigh, nudging him gently. “I’m kidding.”

He gives easily, lip released from its torture. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Tsukki. It’s fine.”

“We’re good?”

“We’re good ,” You say, smiling when he scoffs. “It’s better than me being labeled the sad, jealous friend while you date some airhead that’s after your fame and fortune.”

He grins then. “Aw, you’re not that much of an airhead.”

“Let’s break up.”

He laughs the whole way to campus.

–

You finally understand why Tsukki snaps at the paparazzi.

They’re everywhere – outside your classes and at your favorite cafe. Just two of them, but you’re uncomfortably familiar with them by the end of your second class. You’d given up sometime around lunch, turning in place on your way to the dining hall and asking if they just wanted to walk with you instead of trailing behind.

You eat your lunch with Hiro from SMZ and Nariko from Sendai Sports that day. You don’t answer a single question of theirs, just smiling and spooning rice into your mouth as you ask about their lives instead.

They’re bemused at your strange approach, and you play this game all afternoon with them – by the time Tsukki’s practice is over, you’re hoping you’ve gained at least some of their favor. 

Hopefully, they’ll post nice things about you. Only the good photos, maybe.

Still, the air shifts when they realize you’re heading for the university’s gym – Tsukki practices on campus with a private coach in the afternoons, going to the Frogs’ gym to practice after classes are done. 

You can see them itching to lift their cameras, itching to ask the same questions again.

When did it start? Are you official? How did it happen?

The building comes into view, and you spot his blond hair near the entrance. You clear your throat.

“So… I think I’m gonna have to leave you here,” You say, gesturing around you now that you’re at the base of the stairs. 

They both look dejected, like they were hoping for an introduction. You just give them a thin smile and turn, hurrying up the stairs before they decide to stop being respectful of your boundaries.

Tsukki’s got his eyes over your shoulder as you approach.

“What’d they want?”

“To know my regular order at the dining hall,” You say simply. You stop a friendly distance away, seeing when he eyes the space between you. His smirk speaks before he does.

“You forgot a few feet.”

You grimace, taking a single step toward him. He takes the rest, his body brushing briefly against yours.

You look up at him expectantly. “How should I greet you?”

“However you want.”

“I wouldn’t suppose a friendly hug would do.”

A light flashes when he smiles down at you, and you’re wondering if the world’s ever seen it before.

“No,” He says, humored. “I don’t suppose it would. But a not-friendly hug might.”

You stare down at your shoes, thankful your back is to the cameras.

It’s a bit strange to realize, but you’ve never hugged Tsukki before. Not really.

A casual pat on the back, yes. The occasional side-hug, maybe.

But a hug – despite its simplicity, its lack of meaning – is not something you can ever remember doing with him.

You think of how you hug Tadashi, how you’d hug Hinata or even Kageyama after a game in high school. It’s so easy with them.

The idea of Tsukishima Kei wrapping his arms around you is… odd.

Very odd.

Still, you’ve wasted enough time already. It’s the only option.

You lift your arms, wondering if you resemble a petulant child, and Tsukki just grins and bends down, his bag slipping off his shoulder when he slides his arms around your waist. You’re pulled onto your toes, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

Hugging Tsukishima Kei is not what you’d expected.

You’d always seen him as some cold wall of annoyance – a big, dumb athlete who was always a little painful to smack on the chest after a crude remark. A boy who’d always been rough, who’d grown strong and become some untouchable statue made of cold marble.

But he’s not cold at all.

The air around him is warm, smelling just slightly of sweat from practice but more than anything of that scent that’s distinctly Tsukki . That clean smell that you’d unknowingly grown to associate with comfort. That unplaceable warmth that smells like your childhood.

His hands are bigger than you’d realized, fingers long and warm against the small of your back. His chest is just as hard as always – that unmoveable wall that towers over you – but it feels weird against yours. It feels weird to feel his heartbeat – have you never felt his heartbeat before? Has he always had one?

You wonder if he can feel that your cheeks burn against his neck, if the heat is notable in this little pocket of quiet you’ve found. If your skin warms under his fingers, which rest strangely against the spot where your shirt’s ridden up a bit.

“ How was practice? ” You mumble shyly against his throat, feeling when he swallows hard. You can’t decide if it’s his heart or your own that you’re hearing right now, pounding somewhere near your ears.

“‘ s fine, ” He says, and you hear the hitch in his breath. 

This is weird for him, too, then.

Good. That’s good. This is weird for both of you. You’re not alone in this.

You pull away, clearing your throat quietly. Tsukki lets you slide carefully down to your feet, his fingers skimming the skin under your shirt just before he pulls away, his movements rushed and sharp.

Your skin burns where his fingers had been, and trying to ignore it only makes you more aware of it.

You glance briefly up at him, unable to control the double-take you do when you see him. He won’t meet your eyes, but his face is radiating heat, a blush high on his cheeks and his ears a rather interesting shade of red.

You watch him glance at your ears, too, and the tiny smirk he suppresses tells you that you don’t look much better.

You swallow, wondering where the hell this humming under your skin’s come from.

“Uh-” Your breath catches when his golden eyes meet yours, and you recover clumsily. “I have-”

What do you have? 

Class.

“I have to get to class,” You blurt, blinking rapidly.

He just blinks back, as though he’d also forgotten why you’d met him here.

“Right,” He says. “Class. I’ll walk you.”

“Okay,” You respond, turning on your heel and heading down the stairs. You hear him follow after you, but then there’s a hurried shuffle behind you, the lights of the paparazzi flashing in a frenzy.

You turn back quickly, finding Tsukki tripping over his own feet to get back up the stairs, his bag left abandoned at the top.

You can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face, and you know the flashes that follow are for you.

Tsukki snatches his bag up and turns to you, spotting your teasing grin before you can smother it.

He rolls his eyes, stomping to catch up with you.

“Shut up.”

You laugh the whole way to the crosswalk.

–

Kei doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He doesn’t understand why he feels so skittish, why his fingers are a bit numb. He doesn’t know why he keeps looking at you, what he could possibly be searching for when he watches you.

His eyes scan you while he walks you across campus to your next class. He barely notices the people whispering around you, his gaze tracking the uneven rise and fall of your chest and the white-knuckled grip you have on your bag.

Okay. So you felt it, too.

Good. He’s not crazy.

The memory of your skin under his fingers flashes through his mind. You’d been so soft – he hadn’t realized how soft you are. He’d never even considered it. Soft and warm, heartbeat racing against his chest and arms wrapped tight around his neck. Breath shaky and fanning out over his skin when you’d whispered something about practice.

His fingers itch to touch you again, because he’d never thought to do that, either.

Fuck. He probably is going crazy.

He clears his throat, watching when your fingers twitch on your bag in response.

“We, uh-” He lets out a breath, seeing your building come into view and wanting to say something – anything – to smooth this silence over before you leave. “-probably shouldn’t do things for the first time in public like that again.”

It works. You laugh under your breath. 

“Why? Scared to look like an idiot again?”

Okay, it’s at his expense. But you laughed.

“I’m sure you didn’t look so great yourself,” He says, biting down a grin when you smile.

“That’s too bad,” You say, a teasing edge in your tone. “I was just about to hold your hand.”

Kei chokes, his cough loud and embarrassed. He shoots you a glare when you glance up at him in amusement.

“I swallowed a bug.”

“A bug,” You repeat, nodding and turning away to hide your laugh. “Still think it’s so easy to act, Tsukki?”

He wants to go back in time and beat his past self into shutting the hell up for once.

But that’s not an option, so he just braces himself and shifts minimally closer to you, the back of his hand brushing up against yours. 

He feels you falter beside him, and it gives him just enough courage to do it.

Your hands are a lot smaller than he’d realized. But your fingers slot easily with his.

He can’t tell if it’s his hand or yours that’s clammy, but he’s tempted to say it’s yours because this has never once happened to him before. Not a single one of the girls he’d ever dated had made his palms sweat, so it can’t be him. Had any boys before him ever made you nervous like this?

Had there been any boys before him?

“Is this your first time?” He vomits those words right out, hating every fiber of his being once it’s done.

You look up at him, so taken aback that you visibly become less nervous. “Holding hands with a boy?” You say, smiling mockingly. “No, Tsukki. This isn’t my first time. Sorry to disappoint.”

He rolls his eyes, flushing. “Not what I meant.”

“I know.” You laugh to yourself, pausing outside the building where he’s meant to leave you. He can see people lingering, but no one’s close enough to hear your conversation.

“You know I’ve had boyfriends before, right?” You level him with that teasing look you always have.

Had you? Had he known that?

Oh, God , you totally had. He remembers now, the guy from first year whose face he’s forgotten. And the summer fling after him.

He knows this. Of course he knows this – why hadn’t he remembered?

How far had you gone with them? Had you told him?

“So,” He swallows. “You’ve…” He trails off and hopes you’ll understand, but you just frown up at him. He sighs. “You’ve done… everything, then?”

Your expression changes to one of alarm, and he all but feels the air between you warm.

“ Why ?” You ask, your tone sharp and your voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you plan on changing the answer if I say no?”

Kei’s heart flies to his throat, and his face burns with a horrible, horrible heat.

“No, I-” 

Why the fuck had he asked you that? Why does that matter? What’s he so curious for?

“Y/n,” He starts, holding tight when you start to pull away. He hadn’t even realized you were still holding hands. “Fuck. That’s not what I meant.”

Your face is still burning with embarrassment, and you mumble a response up to him, glancing around.

“You know that’s not gonna happen, right?”

“ Yes- ” He sighs, frustrated and more than a little humiliated. “I’m not expecting-It was a stupid question. I was just curious.”

“You gonna be okay, player?” You ask, and he thinks maybe he’s just seen the ghost of a teasing grin on your face, but he can’t tell. “You ever been celibate before?”

“God, please leave me the hell alone,” He groans, laughing pathetically and dropping your hand to rub the heat out of his cheeks. You definitely smile then, suddenly enjoying his embarrassment more than anything. 

He realizes after a moment that people are starting to file out of different buildings – it must be passing period, then. 

“You should go,” He says, nudging you toward your building. 

You nod, stepping back toward him and lifting onto your toes to wrap your arms around his neck again. His breath hitches, and he barely manages to loop his arms around your waist.

You’re just as soft as you were the first time.

You lower away from him, and he realizes distantly some other students are taking photos and whispering. But you just smile briefly up at him, your voice gentle.

“Not so weird that time.”

Was it not?

He nods dumbly and smiles when you wave bye.

When you’re gone, he has no clue what to do with himself. What is he supposed to be doing right now?

Class in an hour and practice downtown afterward. Right.

He turns on his heel, ignoring everyone’s stares and trying his hardest to squash the stupid look on his face as he walks back toward his car.

He’s about halfway there when his phone buzzes with a text.

[2:47 PM]

You: and for your stupid information

You: i have done a lot

You: but no

You: i have not done everything

You: goodbye

Kei has to take a seat on the nearest bench, ignoring the paparazzi and random underclassmen that are following him.

He sits and stares down at nothing, wondering why the thought of you being a virgin is making his head spin and his ears ring. Wondering – as he drops his head into his hands and sighs loudly – why his palms are so fucking sweaty.

–

“You told him what ?”

You groan, throwing yourself back on your mattress. Kiyoko clambers onto the bed after you, shaking you violently.

“ Why would you tell him you’re a virgin?!”

“Because I am ?” You laugh pathetically, hiding your face in your hands. She just shakes you again.

“But why did you tell him ?!”

“I don’t know! He asked!”

“ What?! ” 

“ Kiyoko- ” You protest and turn over, assuming your standard face-down position of dread. “I don’t know. It just happened. And it was weird.”

“Well, what did he say-”

“Nothing!” You toss your phone next to her on the bed, hearing her unlock it and search through your messages. “Nothing, because there’s nothing he can say. It’s not like there’s anything to do about it.”

There’s a silence from her, one that prompts you to look at her. She just stares at you, disbelieving.

“I mean,” She starts. “Do you know that for sure?”

You hide your face again. “Shut up. We agreed that things wouldn’t get that far. There’s literally no reason for us to ever do that.”

“No, I get that-” She coughs, and you figure that she’s hiding a laugh. “-but he did ask… and you did tell him…”

“ Kiyoko, ” You whine, pulling your pillow over your head for good measure while you complain, your voice muffled. “ I can barely hug the guy without it being weird. ”

You hadn’t lied. It was definitely easier the second time, and even easier the third time, when he’d picked you up from your last class and driven you home before he’d left for practice downtown. 

It had not, however, been a comfortable ride home, because you two had just sat in uncertain silence – uncertain, because neither of you could fathom why you would ever tell him how far you’d gone before him.

And it had not been easy the fourth time he’d hugged you, in front of your building and about ten reporters. Because he’d turned his head just enough to brush his lips tentatively over your cheek, and you’d stilled in his arms, your face thankfully hidden in his chest again.

You couldn’t bear for the internet to see the look on your face the first time Tsukishima Kei had ever kissed you.

He’d gotten into his car and driven off, and you’d run upstairs and called Kiyoko without a second thought.

You can barely hug him, and that sad excuse for a kiss had put you on high alert.

There’s absolutely no world in which it would be natural for you to have sex with Tsukishima Kei. No world in which it could ever be considered.

“Okay,” Kiyoko laughs when you groan in fresh embarrassment. “I’m sure you’ll get used to doing the smaller things in public with him.”

You’re about groan again, but a quiet ding comes from Kiyoko’s palms.

“Uh-” She cuts short, and your stomach flips nervously.

“ What’s it say? ” You mumble, knowing it’s him.

She clears her throat awkwardly, and your nerves worsen.

“He wants to come over.”

You wither, there in your hiding spot, and mumble a pathetic response. 

“ Okay. Sure. ”

–

“Do you… want to shower?” You gesture lamely down the hall to your bathroom, Tsukki standing awkwardly in the foyer with his bag.

You see him swallow hard, and you realize how it’d come out.

“Because you’re gross,” You blurt, watching his eyebrows fly up and his tense expression become a teasing grin.

“Yeah, I got it the first time, Y/n,” He says, padding into your living room. “But thanks for clarifying.”

You flush, watching him drop his bag and head for your dresser. He plucks a set of his own clothes out of the bottom drawer, chuckling to himself as he does it.

“I probably shouldn’t stay long. If I leave in different clothes, things’ll get weird downstairs.”

And then there’s silence, because he’d said it without considering the rather salient implications of that sentence.

You sigh when the bathroom door clicks shut, falling onto your bed and contemplating hiding your face again.

He emerges after ten minutes, as you’re texting a very nosy Kiyoko. He stares down at you until you nervously lift your eyes to his. And then he takes a breath.

“We good?”

You hadn’t realized how much you needed such a simple question.

“Yeah,” You say with a breath of laughter. “We’re good.”

His relief is apparent in the way he throws himself down beside you and extracts his own phone, opening Twitter. You’re both quiet for a while, scrolling through his feed together and seeing that his name is trending.

“ ‘#tsukkiyn ’,” He says, snorting. “Look at us, going viral.”

You see a video of him tripping over his feet on the stairs of the gym, scrambling for his bag, and you purse your lips to keep from laughing.

“Look at you. You’re a wreck.”

“Shut up,” He laughs, scrolling past it to a photo of the two of you walking across campus. He’s got his fingers interlaced with yours – it must have been the moment he’d done it, because your eyes are bugged out with shock.

Tsukki laughs loudly, immediately liking and retweeting it without thinking. You gasp.

“ Tsukishima Kei- ” 

His notifications flood with replies and likes, the whole world seeming to react all at once.

[6:59 PM] tsukkiynstan77 : HELLO??? IS THIS CONFIRMATION????

[6:59 PM] kookooforkei : NO FUCKING SHOTTTTT NO FUCKING SHOT TSUKISHIMA KEI

[6:59 PM] sendaitsukki : I FOUND HER @ EVERYONE I FUCKING FOUND IT IT’S @/ynlovely !!!

“Uh oh,” Tsukki says under his breath, turning to look at you. You stare at him, a singular moment of silence between you before catastrophe.

Your phone starts to buzz incessantly, your notifications blowing up in a surge of sudden city-wide attention. You both stare at your phone screen, watching the notifications come in so fast that your phone starts to lump them all together.

15 New Notifications

16 New Notifications

17 New Notifications

99+ New Notifications

You stare at it, watching your phone glitch and struggle, and all you can do is laugh.

“Are you… Are you stupid?”

“I think so,” He says immediately, nodding beside you. “I definitely think that’s possible.”

A text notification stands out over the rest, its ding different than the others.

[7:01 PM]

Kiyoko: im going to assume your sudden lack of response means that youre fucking that man right now.

Your eyes go wide, and you drop your phone on your face in your haste to hide the screen. Tsukki coughs next to you, and you spot the telltale burn of embarrassment on his face as he turns away.

“ Fucking bitch ,” You mumble, snatching your phone up and rolling onto your side to hide from him.

[7:01 PM]

You: you fkin gbtich

Kiyoko: oh, did he see???

Kiyoko: oops :)) 

You hear snickering behind you, and you turn to find Tsukki peering over your shoulder at the texts. You gasp, and he reaches over to pluck the phone away from you.

“What do we have here?” He asks, standing from your bed and taking three giant strides to get away from you.

“ Tsukki! ” You roll off clumsily, chasing after him in a panic. “Don’t read those-”

“ ‘You need to kiss him for real ’,” He reads aloud, sidestepping you as you chase him all around your shoebox of an apartment. “‘ I saw the pics of him kissing you out front, that shit was pathetic- ’ What the fuck?” He stops, lifting the phone over his head to read it again. “I’m not pathetic -”

“Give me-” You jump, knocking the phone from his hand and onto the couch. “-my phone, you fuck.” You retrieve it, glaring up at him. “Those are private-”

“Was it really pathetic?” He asks, entirely caught up in this. “I thought it was fine.”

You roll your eyes, going into your notification settings and muting everything related to Twitter. “It was fine.”

He just pulls his phone out, and you catch him scrolling.

He’d searched for photos of the kiss.

“You’re joking,” You say, dropping down onto the couch and shaking your head. “It was fine , Tsukki.”

He just hums, unconvinced, and throws himself down, all but sitting on you. “Look at this.” He shows you a photo, zoomed in to where his lips barely touch your face. “That’s pretty bad.”

It is pretty bad.

You purse your lips, hiding your laugh when you see how he scowls down at his screen. “I’m sure we’ll get better at it.”

He doesn’t respond, just staring down at the photo. And then he locks his phone, tossing it down next to him.

“I thought it’d be easier than this.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be,” You say, smiling pitifully. “Regret anything yet?”

He snorts, shaking his head and combing his fingers through his wet hair. “Unfortunately, it looks you’re stuck with me. I talked to Management after practice.”

You shift, your interest piqued. “And?”

“They approved.” He throws you a half-laugh. “Obviously.”

“Do they know it’s fake?”

“Oh, please-” He waves your question away. “The whole team knows it’s fake. I was getting my ass handed to me 24 hours ago.”

You wring your hands together nervously. “And they’re all cool with it?”

“They like you more than they like me.”

“I barely know them.”

“Exactly.” He sighs. “Trust me, they want this to work just as much as we do. There’s too much riding on this.”

You nod, feeling a bit of relief seep into you. If the Frogs are on board with this, it can’t be a terrible idea, right?

“Anything they need me to do in particular?”

He shoots you a grin. “Make me a decent person?”

You grimace. “Bit above my pay-grade.”

He rolls his eyes. “They want me to have a social media presence. Pictures, tweets, teasing comments – that kinda thing.”

You blink. “So, earlier-”

“Come on,” He levels you with a deadpan stare. “You really think I’m stupid?”

“Extremely, yes.”

Tsukki just rolls his eyes, snatching his phone up and laying his body across yours.

“Smile, baby .” 

You spend an hour getting manhandled into different angles and positions, your debut as Tsukishima Kei’s girlfriend consisting of poorly shot selfies and a head of blond hair in your face.

“Go home , Tsukki,” You finally say, shoving him off of you and wiping your cheek where he’d just licked you like a freak. “You’re getting on my nerves.”

He just laughs, scrolling through his cursed camera roll. He picks one out from the collection of blurred shots and ugly laughing.

“What about this one?”

It’s one of Tsukki biting your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut as his mouth opens over your face, teeth clamped down on your cheek. You’ve got one hand curled into his hair, the other gripping the side of his neck as you try to shove him off of you, but it’s obvious you’re mid-laughter.

You stare down at it, hating that it’s perfect.

“Yeah, okay, fine.” 

Tsukki snickers, sending it to you. “You post it. It’s weird if I do it.”

You roll your eyes, opening Twitter and ignoring the million notifications in order to type a simple tweet with the photo attached.

[8:22 PM] ynlovely : freak. [photo attached]

It’s met with instant engagement, but Tsukki only adds to it, retweeting it just a minute later with his own comment.

[8:23 PM] tsukei : i got that dog in me

He’s out of your apartment before he has time to apologize, but – somehow – the headlines are faster.

Sendai Frogs Middle Blocker Tsukishima Kei Dating Longtime Friend: Confirmed

–

Despite the rocky start, things become surprisingly easy over the course of the next week.

The topic of kissing doesn’t come up again, but you find Tsukki making a habit of pecking you quickly on the cheek whenever you part ways, one hand in yours and the other on your waist. You follow his lead, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down to your height when you want to plant a kiss on his face, laughter shared between you when you find new and strange places to put it. One on the bridge of his nose, another on his jawline just under his ear.

One accidentally smacked against the corner of his mouth in your rush to get to class on Friday morning.

A photo of Tsukki crouching against the wall of your department had circulated Twitter only minutes after that, his face hidden in his hands but ears clearly burning a beautifully bright, summery red. 

You hadn’t realized it then – that one accidental moment could call into question the validity of your relationship with Tsukishima Kei.

–

Your eyes scan over the most recent tweets under the ‘ #tsukkiyn ’ tag as you sit in a cafe on Friday afternoon, a strange dread settling deep in your gut.

Everything before – the excited commentary and overwhelming chaos related to the announcement of your relationship – had been due to the novelty of it all. The newness of Tsukishima as a taken man.

But this photo, where it’s apparent that Tsukki is flustered and unfamiliar with you in a romantic capacity, brings to attention a lot of the assumed details of your relationship.

You skim the tweets that address the issue, Tsukishima fans and haters alike all asking the same questions.

Why would he be so caught off guard by a simple gesture of affection? Something that can’t even be considered a kiss?

Isn’t it the case that you two had been dating for a while in secret and are only now confirming the relationship publicly? 

Is it a bit suspicious that the announcement of a relationship had comes only hours after a series of reputation-ruining headlines for the Sendai Frogs’ most promising rookie?

And there, posted only mere minutes ago, is someone who’d half-guessed at the truth.

[12:20 PM] numberonekei : lol the frogs probably paid her to be his fake gf to make him seem more likeable. not like shes actually his type.

You lock your phone, throwing it in your bag with a sigh and reaching for your coffee.

Nariko from Sendai Sports is sitting only a table away. She’d been with you almost all week, and you’d come to find some strange comfort in her presence – she’s proven herself to be a normal human being just doing her job.

Even now, she looks up from some shots on her camera when you sigh, and you feel her looking you over.

“Rough day?”

You smile wryly, pulling some books out to get work done. “Just glad it’s almost the weekend.”

“That’s a vague answer if I’ve ever heard one.”

You laugh. “Any weekend plans?”

She waves her camera at you in explanation, and you nod with a hum of understanding. She eyes you just a moment longer before returning to her shots. 

“I’ve been curating only the best photos of you, if that makes your day any less bad.”

You snort into your coffee. “It does, thank you.” And then you swallow, figuring it wouldn’t be too much detail to mention some things to her. “Just getting used to it all. The attention.”

“People kind of suck, huh?”

“Kind of,” You agree, staring down at your textbook without really seeing it. And then you blink, shaking yourself out of it. “It’s fine. I’ll feel better once he gets here.”

She looks up at you again, and you find minor surprise in her expression. “Is he really that good of a boyfriend? He’s kind of…”

“An asshole?” You smile, enjoying the breath of laughter she lets out. “He’s… hard to explain. You gotta think about how this might all feel for him, too, I guess.” There’s a moment of silence, one where she looks like she might understand what you’re saying, but it’s interrupted by a quiet knock on the cafe window.

You look up, finding Tadashi and Kiyoko, both of them gesturing for you to join them. You furrow a brow, reaching over for your bag, but there’s a hand there already.

“I texted you, loser,” Tsukki says, opening your bag and closing your textbook. “What’re you dissociating about?”

He clearly had not seen Nariko sitting fifteen feet away.

You shake your head, helping him collect your things and hoping she views your dynamic as one of playful banter. “Nothing, you ass. It’s just been a long morning.”

Tsukki crouches next you then, taking your face in one hand and forcing you to look at him. “Yeah, you look like shit.”

“Thank you. I do try.”

He only stares, scanning your face. “What happened?” It’s less of a question and more of a demand.

“Nothing, Tsukki,” You say, trying to shake him off. “Let’s just go.” 

But he’s reaching for your phone, unlocking it before you can stop him.

“Tsukki, don’t-”

“What’s…” He stares down at your Twitter feed, at the tweet you’d last read. And then he rolls his eyes, sighing heatedly and throwing your phone back in your bag. “I fucking hate the internet. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You frown slightly. That person had guessed at your fake relationship, but Tsukki’s denying it while thinking this conversation is private. Why?

He mumbles to himself as he finishes packing your bag. “ What would anyone know what my type is? ‘s bullshit .”

Oh. He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Just forget it, Tsukki,” You say, leaning forward and pressing your lips to the corner of his eyebrow. “I’m not that upset about it.”

“You clearly are,” He snaps. “I’m gonna start kicking people’s asses if they say shit to you.”

You roll your eyes, taking his hand and standing when he offers it to you. “No, you’re not. I’ll kick your ass if you try it.”

He just shrugs. “I’m just saying – teaching by example isn’t a bad idea.”

“Your stupidity amazes me sometimes,” You say, and then you turn to Nariko. “Have a good weekend.”

“I hope your day gets better,” She says, smiling kindly and avoiding eye contact with Tsukki.

He waits until you’re outside to awkwardly mumble, “Was she there the whole time?”

“Yes, she was. You’re just an idiot.”

“Who’s an idiot?” Kiyoko asks as you approach. When you gesture up at Tsukki, she smiles plainly. “Well, lucky for us, he’s just a dumb athlete and not a rocket scientist.”

Yamaguchi laughs a little too loud and is forced to run back to Tsukki’s car with the blond on his heels.

–

“So… Tsukki won’t tell me anything about how things are going with you two…” Yamaguchi leans in close to you. The Frogs have a home game on Sunday, so you sit with him and Kiyoko in the stands at their gym, half-watching their two-hour practice as you work on some assignments. 

You turn to the freckled boy now, an eyebrow raised.

“Okay…?”

He smiles, and you catch Kiyoko snickering to herself on his other side. She meets your eye and shrugs.

“Social media can only say so much.”

Yamaguchi nods, his smile conspiratorial. “A little hug here, a little kiss on the cheek there…”

“That’s about it, Tadashi,” You say slowly. His grin widens.

“Yeah? Nothing else?” When you don’t respond, he and Kiyoko start to nudge each other. “Nothing about someone’s virginity?” 

You gasp, flushing hard. It hadn’t come up again all week, and you’d nearly forgotten about it. 

“What the- fuck -” You shut your notebook and reach around Yamaguchi to smack Kiyoko with it. “You were not supposed to tell anyone!”

Kiyoko laughs as you hit her repeatedly. The ruckus catches the attention of some of the players below as they take a water break, and you’re met with Tsukki’s questioning stare, Koganegawa and Kyoutani on either side of him with bemused smiles. You wave lamely at them, aiming one last smack at your giggling friends before putting your notebook down.

“I needed someone else to join me in my exasperation,” Kiyoko says, leaning close and creating a secretive huddle for the three of you to whisper. “You two were acting weird and it had only been, like, 10 hours of dating.”

“It was just a fluke!” You whisper-yell, boxing Yamaguchi in as you argue. “It’s not exactly a smooth transition from 15 years of friendship into something romantic.”

“Something romantic , huh?” Yamaguchi throws a traitorous arm over your shoulder. “Do tell, Y/n.”

“You know what I mean. It was a rocky start, and there may or may not have been some oversharing along the way.” Your face is still hot from having to explain, but you want to cut these two off before they can start concocting stupid ideas.

“Yeah, well, you’re not out of the woods yet,” Kiyoko says, her grin a little evil. “I’ve seen what people are saying today – they’re not exactly convinced that you two are the Hallmark movie you need to be.”

You grimace. “What do you want me to do? We’re moving at a decent pace, I think.”

“ Decent pace ?” Yamaguchi snickers. “You kiss Tsukki the way I kiss my grandma.”

“I don’t have time to unpack that sentence, Tadashi,” You joke, wishing this conversation could end already. “But-” You sigh in frustration. “Fine. I see what you’re both saying. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“It’s not like you need to give him a lap dance, Y/n,” He says. “But something needs to change before the game.” When you just stare at him blankly, he and Kiyoko share a look of disbelief. “You don’t think the whole world’s gonna be watching you that day?”

You deflate. You hadn’t even thought of that.

“What if they win, huh?” Kiyoko prompts. “You gonna give him a high-five, Y/n?”

Yamaguchi nods. “You at least have to kiss him. And if you’re really committed to this-” He glances over your head, eyes going wide as he leans in quickly to whisper in your ear. “- you’re gonna have to make it good. You know sweet, innocent girls aren’t Tsukki’s type .”

You blanche, remembering the joking way that Tsukki had hinted at cute girls not being able to ‘ handle ’ him.

“What are you three scheming about over here?”

You jump, turning quickly to see Tsukki standing over you, hand on hip and eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

You swallow, shaking your head. “Nothing… Nothing-” You blink, clearing your head. “Practice done?”

He nods, hoisting his gym bag high on his shoulder. “Are we still drinking tonight?”

“Drinking?” You turn to look at your friends. “Where?”

Yamaguchi smiles and lifts his bag, and you realize only now that there’s a quiet clink every time he jostles it.

“Your place.”

–

“Oh. I brought this over.” 

Tsukki reaches into his bag, extracting a bright green Frogs jersey and tossing it at you. You catch it without looking, tipping another shot back into your mouth. 

The four of you are sitting on the floor around your coffee table, some bottles of liquor and your many preferred mixers strewn on the table with the shot glasses and three bowls of varied snacks. A random movie plays on your TV, the volume low and the plot serving as nothing more than background noise.

You squint at the shirt in your hand, his last name stretched in capital letters across the back. The letters double up and hover a little, your vision not what it should be right now.

“Your… jersey?”

“For Sunday,” He says with no other explanation, just reaching over the table to pour a shot of rum and a splash of Coke into his cup. It spills over the rim a little, and he has to shake his head to clear it as he’s putting the bottle down.

Your heart jumps a little, the reminder of Sunday bringing back Yamaguchi’s words.

‘You’re gonna have to make it good. ’

You glance at Yamaguchi now, seeing that he’s eyeing you with mischief. When he sees the panic tinging your expression, he grins.

“Yeah, Y/n ,” He says, giggling drunkenly. “You gotta look the part so people don’t say you’re not his real girlfriend.” He and Kiyoko lean heavy on each other, and he mumbles to her in a voice that’s a lot louder than he realizes. “ Gotta act the part, too. ”

You glance at Tsukki, finding him staring at the pair over the top of his glasses, his cup halfway to his mouth. His eyes narrow in suspicion at his roommate.

“ Yamaguchi …” He mutters. It’s suspicious, you realize – a warning. You glance between them, wondering what’s happened.

Yamaguchi catches you, his smile wicked. “I think he’s mad at me, Y/n.” He tilts his head toward, his whisper deliberately loud this time. “It’s just that he’s been so blushy lately. I’m dying to know why.”

“Soon enough, you’ll just be dying,” Tsukki says, downing his drink. 

Your head spins a little as you look around. Kiyoko and Yamaguchi are both red in the face, the vodka having gotten to them almost an hour ago. Tsukki, too, is undoubtedly drunk – his eyes are heavily lidded, his blinks long and slow. And his fingers rest on the rug, just slightly over yours.

That’s one thing about Tsukishima Kei that’s just so hard to believe – he gets touchy when he drinks. And even if his version of touchy is nothing more than fingertips brushing over the back of your hand every few minutes, it’s touchy nonetheless.

Unfortunately, you get touchy when you drink, too.

And it’s just so truly unfortunate, because your version of touchy isn’t exactly his version of touchy.

“Tsukki,” You start, his name heavy in your mouth. “Do you plan on winning the game on Sunday?”

His golden eyes cut to yours, narrowing with unspoken questions. “That’s usually the goal, yeah.”

You swallow, your heart pounding a little louder than usual. Your drunken mind had really thought he might say no.

“Why?” He asks, but you don’t hear him.

You just sit up on your knees, struggling to put your drink on the table before scooting close to him. You hear Kiyoko gasp behind you, she and Yamaguchi starting to smack each other’s arms when you reach out and take the front of Tsukki’s shirt with both hands.

His eyes widen, and he allows himself to be dragged toward you. “What-Y/n-”

You lean forward, stopping just shy of his mouth and sighing roughly. His breath catches in his throat, and you smell the rum on his tongue.

“Be quiet, Tsukki. For once.”

You can confidently say you’ve never tasted rum quite like this.

It’s quick, but the jolt to your system is sharp, a live wire in your veins.

You pull away with the hint of a gasp, your pulse drumming in your ears. Tsukki stares with wide eyes and parted lips. You think you hear Yamaguchi mumble ‘ Holy shit’ to Kiyoko, but you can’t spare any attention for it.

Tsukki’s eyes flick between yours and then back down to your mouth, and the drumming in your ears skips a few beats.

He leans in before you can pull away.

This kiss is as short as the last, but he lingers this time, alcohol tainting the air that hovers between your lips. You gather the courage to try again before he does, and it’ll only be later that you realize how relieved you are that he tangles his fingers in your hair and kisses you until his courage finds him, too.

His lips are softer than you’d expected – rough and assured, just like everything else about him, but soft nonetheless. You find yourself unshakeably curious to discover if they’re still as soft after just one more kiss. Over and over again, curiosity on repeat. Needing to keep testing it, because there’s an almost desperate need to keep finding out.

Just one more, you think, again and again. One more, and then you’ll stop. 

His other hand finds your thigh, palm searing hot against your skin, and his tongue brushes against your bottom lip just as his fingers slide accidentally under the hem of your shorts. Your heart jumps, and your teeth catch ever so softly on his lip. A sound escapes from deep in his throat, one that sounds suspiciously like a groan.

What an addicting little sound it turns out to be.

Just as Tsukki’s fingertips are digging into the plush skin of your thighs, Yamaguchi clears his throat loudly behind you. Kiyoko’s got her hand on your shoulder, pulling you away.

“Y/n,” She says gently, tugging on your sleeve.

You gasp, realizing what’s happened and reeling back quickly. Tsukki’s fingers tighten in your hair for just a second, but he lets you go almost immediately, his eyes wide as he comes to his senses, too.

“What-” He breathes, gaze flicking in a panic between your lips and your eyes. You stare back, your heart pounding in your ears and your head spinning like a carousel. “What was that for?”

You just scan him, watching as a blush blossoms furiously across his cheeks, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You blink, your voice muffled in your ear when you respond.

“Just practicing. For Sunday.”

And then you whirl around, your back pressed against the bottom of the couch as you stare emptily at the TV. Yamaguchi snatches the remote from the floor and boosts the volume until there’s no way you and Tsukki can have a conversation about this.

Kiyoko and Yamaguchi start to whisper furiously to each other after a few minutes, but you and Tsukki stay silent until it gets late enough that you all fall asleep.

–

You wake sometime around 3am, shifting and covering your eyes with a quiet groan when you realize the TV’s still on. The room is completely dark otherwise, so you have to search clumsily around the floor for the remote, still tired but thankfully not drunk anymore. 

You only realize Tsukki’s awake and sitting on the couch when you see that the remote is in his hand. His eyes are trained on the screen, unseeing, and he’s got his cup in his other hand. He flicks his gaze down to yours when he senses you looking at him.

“Too bright?” He mumbles, quiet enough not to wake your friends, Kiyoko sleeping on the armchair and Yamaguchi passed out on the rug. You shake your head, joining him on the couch and shivering slightly from the running air conditioner.

“Body heat,” You say plainly, and he rolls his eyes but allows you to press your side against his regardless. “You’re gonna be too hungover for practice tomorrow if you keep drinking.” You gesture to the cup in his hand, watching a slow smirk stretch across his face.

“What’s wrong?” He teases, setting both the cup and the remote on the table in favor of draping his arm around your shoulders with an mocking lift of his eyebrows. “Worried I won’t do well on Sunday? You must really want to kiss me.”

You don’t bother hiding the flush of your cheeks in the dark, too busy rolling your eyes. “You recovered quickly, Tsukishima,” You say, your tone just as airy and full of amusement when his eyes light up a little at the use of his name. “Alcohol got you feeling confident?”

“It had you feeling confident,” He counters, smirk deepening when he sees the embarrassment cross your expression. And then he leans into you, nose brushing against yours and breath fanning across your lips when he whispers to you.

You only realize he’s actually about to kiss you when his gaze drops to your mouth.

“ My turn .”

You suck in a surprised breath, unsure what to do with the excited flutter of your heart when his lips turn out to be just as soft as they were before. Your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, and you shiver when his hand finds your waist, his palm heated even through your shirt.

“Still cold?” He whispers against your lips, angling his head and smiling when you lean into him. You shake your head, because you’re suddenly so, so warm, but then you realize his breath doesn’t smell like rum anymore.

“You were drinking water?” You ask, a flash of heat spreading from the crown of your head down to your toes when he just kisses you again with an amused hum.

“Did you really think I would risk being hungover tomorrow?”

You breathe unsteadily, goosebumps spreading all over your skin when he drops his head and brushes his lips against a spot just under your ear. “Why are you kissing me, Tsukki? You’re sober.”

His breath is warm when it fans out over your throat, his voice low in your ear and muffled against your skin. “ So are you. ”

Your stomach flips. He’s right.

“But I wasn’t the first time.” You lift your brows, mustering as much confidence as you can. “What’s your excuse? You wanna kiss me that bad, Tsukki?”

He lifts his head then, meeting your eyes evenly as a knowing look fills his expression.

“Just practicing, of course – for Sunday.”

The implication brings you pause, and then you laugh, covering your mouth so as to not wake your friends up. Tsukki watches you do it, a matching smile spreading across his lips.

It’s relieving, being able to laugh about this with him.

After an entire week of moments belonging to the public – moments that have meant too much, with too many eyes on them and too much on the line to risk messing them up – this is one moment that belongs only to you and him. One moment when you don’t have to think so hard.

Maybe that’s been the issue all along.

“Tsukki…” You start, meeting his eyes with an idea growing in your head. He hums, watching you closely. “What if we just… stop thinking so much about this?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, only offering a long, slow blink. And then he tilts his head, the conspiratorial look in his eye all too enticing. You’ve been seeing that look your whole life.

“You wanna have some fun, Y/n?”

Maybe you’re just as much trouble as he is.

“I could be into that.”

–

It turns out that ‘ having fun ’ looks a lot like you sitting in the packed stands on Sunday afternoon, wearing the name TSUKISHIMA on your back and hiding your phone from your friends as you text him. Both teams are down below doing their pre-game stretches, and you wait for Tsukki to be near his bag pressing send .

You don’t hear the quiet ding from where you sit, but you see his blond head swivel around at the sound. He extracts the phone from his bag, and you watch him read the messages.

[1:21 PM]

You: in case you forgot

You: winning this game comes with the added bonus of me kissing the soul out of your body

You: in front of all these people

You catch the smile that creeps out just before he smothers it, and your own smile is hidden behind your hand. He looks around, searching the bleachers until he finds you. He shakes his head at you, typing rapidly and sending his response just as Koganegawa’s approaching him.

[1:24 PM]

Tsukki: dont threaten me with a good time, you freaky little dementor

Tsukki: you WILL be paying up when i make the winning point

You snort into your hand, locking your phone and waving off Yamaguchi and Kiyoko when they give you matching looks of interest. The intro commentary starts shortly after, with the teams greeting each other through the net. The game starts promptly at 1:30 PM.

True to his word, Tsukishima Kei makes the winning point at 2:58 PM. 

You watch in disbelief as his block sends the ball back over the net, spinning quickly and slamming against the floor between two players on the other team. You’re left stunned in your seat as everyone jumps up, the name on your back screamed across the entire stadium as Frogs fans celebrate yet another win at the hands of their star rookie.

Kiyoko grabs you and hauls you to your feet, and you can’t help the laughter that fills your body as you cheer alongside her.

By the time you find him in the mass of his teammates, Tsukki’s already looking right at you. His teammates all jump around him, shoving and hugging and clapping him on the back. 

But all he does is lift his arm, a single finger pointed right at you.

Yamaguchi makes a noise of surprise, and Kiyoko turns to you with a shocked smile.

“You’re not actually…?”

Tsukki crooks his finger twice, beckoning you to him with a satisfied grin.

'Show them who you are.'

Kyoutani sees you next, his smile widening as he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, in that deep baritone that shakes the room-

“ Kiss! ” 

Your laughter turns giddy, and you dart out into the aisle to get to the stairs. You take them two at a time, his oversized jersey fluttering behind you as you run down to the court. You hear the whispers and whooping all around you as the fans realize where you are and where you’re headed, but you ignore them in favor of meeting Tsukki halfway across the court.

The smile he gives you is that wild, genuine one that reminds you of your childhood – of playground sand boxes and toy dinosaurs, of excited storytelling and playing volleyball with Akiteru in their backyard.

Of a Tsukishima Kei who would pretend he knew nothing about why the class bully was suddenly sporting a bloody nose after making fun of your body – one who would pretend he couldn’t hear you when you’d say you weren’t hungry, only shoving a spoonful of his lunch in your mouth with that smile that would make you forget why you were crying in the first place.

That’s the Tsukishima Kei that picks you up now and spins you around like you weigh nothing, his arms wrapping around you while you tangle your fingers into his hair and kiss him like your life depends on it. He tastes like salt, and he breathes a laugh past your lips when the crowd starts to follow Kyoutani’s lead, the room erupting in cheers and the thunderous chant of ‘ Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! ’. 

“ Congratulations, ” You whisper against his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist. A shiver runs down your spine when he holds you there, his grip on your hips and thighs possessive and his body flush against yours. 

You wonder if maybe he’d seen his life in your smile, too.

“ You gonna greet me like this at every game? ” He asks between kisses, the chanting and cheering becoming nearly overwhelming. 

“ Only if you win, ” You laugh, barely able to hear the response he gives you even in your little pocket of solitude.

“ Guess I should start training for Nationals.”

You’d forgotten how easy it is to have fun with him.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Vidas Pasadas (Past Lives)

PART THREE: THE HERO ALWAYS GETS THE GIRL

Also on AO3

Part One // Part Two // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Latina!Reader (Spanish speaking)

WC: 5.9k words

Chapter Summary: It was always meant to end up this way, wasn't it? Some things never changed.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, canon typical violence, reader kidnapped by raiders, the ghoul being the ghoul, cursing, some injuries (very mild whump), mentions of death/loss, heavyyyy angst (happy ending tho!), only a little Spanish dialogue, love confession, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (fem receiving), irradiated creampie (with RadAway after lol), aaaaand that's all I can think of but please lmk if I missed anything!

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

In the Past….

You had been restless all day, unable to explain why. Something just didn’t feel right, and not knowing what it was made you feel even worse.

Your house had felt large and empty as you paced around it, smoking. All those long hours, you were acutely aware of the clock’s ticking — Time relentlessly marching on, waiting for no one.

 Once you’d actually gone to bed, you’d tossed and turned long into the night. The moon shone faintly through a gap between the curtains, barely illuminating your bedroom. You could not face the yawning void of solitude you found at that hour, so you got up. 

Things had gotten much trickier in a short amount of time. There had been many more bomb drills, more fear and paranoia, and substantially fewer job opportunities.

Cooper was no longer acting. He simply wouldn’t get cast anymore, so he had to look in other directions. The loss was tremendous, for yourself and the industry. Moviemaking didn’t quite feel the same anymore, its luster having faded.

You saw him much less, but you still tried to keep in touch. You’d even helped him care for Janey a few times when he had to take an odd gig that would run late. Slowly, he was becoming a shell of the man he formerly was, and you felt helpless to stop it.

But that night, you couldn’t hold yourself back, leaving your house in just a coat and your night dress, like a ghostly apparition. The drive there was nebulous, like you were moving on autopilot. You drifted up the steps and pressed the buzzer to his apartment a few times.

When he came down to see who was at the door, he looked a little worse for wear, like he’d been having a hard time sleeping, too. He ushered you inside, not wanting you to be out in the cold.

“What happened?” Cooper said, worriedly searching you for any sign of injury. “It’s the middle of the night, why didn’t you telephone?”

“I’m so sorry, Coop,” you said, as if waking up from a trance. “Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, leading you to the old, rickety elevator and pressing the button to his floor. 

“No, I was up. Lucky you didn’t wake Janey, though. She’s with me this weekend.”

You covered your face with your hands, ashamed. “Oh God, I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, worrying even more at your clear distress. He guided you to his unit, which was smaller than you’d imagined. It’d been a while since Cooper and Barb’s sudden divorce, but he barely seemed to be settling in. The walls were mostly bare, and the sparse furniture seemed to have been included with the unit. There were only a few pictures, mostly of him and Janey, but a few of just his daughter. 

He had never really told you what happened, but the change had seemingly occurred overnight. He simply said he was done, that he couldn’t even look at her anymore. You were still pretty baffled about the whole thing, but it wasn’t your business to pry about. You simply supported him however you could.

Barb had not gone easy on him, having the best lawyers Vault-Tec could afford. He had Janey some weekends, but he didn’t get to see her nearly enough. It was a bad situation altogether, and you were sad for everyone involved.

“Cozy,” was all you could whisper after a moment of silence, to which he snorted derisively.

You went to sit on the couch, arms around yourself. The two of you kept your voices soft so as not to wake Janey, and you felt a pang in your chest knowing she was near. She was such a bright ray of sunshine, and you were glad that she and Cooper had each other despite everything.

And especially on a night like that one, when the world seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation of something.

“Drink?” He offered, already pouring himself a glass of scotch in the small kitchen.

You nodded, sniffling, trying to keep the tears that threatened to crawl up your throat at bay. He shuffled back over to you, a frown still on his face.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” He encouraged, handing you the glass and sitting next to you on the couch. 

How could you possibly explain the feeling of grief you had, when you hadn’t really lost anyone? 

Not yet, at least.

“I don’t know, I just… I had to see you,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “I didn’t even think about it, I just got in the car and drove.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet,” he chuckled, the sound a little awkward. “But it couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No, Coop, I can’t even explain it. If I tried, I’m sure you’d think I’m crazy.”

“Try me,” he said. “You know you can trust me.”

You set your glass down and scanned his features for a moment, committing them to memory. Then, without a word, you leaned in and brought your lips to his chastely.

 You had kissed dozens of times in the past, but for the first time, it was as yourselves. Love was the only thing you could give him then. Years worth of it had accumulated inside of you, with nowhere to go… until that moment. 

But your heart was breaking at the same time. Instinctively, you realized this would be your only opportunity to do so. Tears swam in your vision, but you turned your face away before he could see the one that escaped.

Cooper blinked, too stunned to react. You sniffled, pulling back, hands wringing anxiously. He shook his head, snapping out of it.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, hands cupping your face. “I ain’t that bad of a kisser, am I?”

You let out a sad little chuckle, which sounded more like a sob.

I love you, you wanted to say. I love you, I love you, te amo con todo mi corazón*. Please find a way to live, whatever happens.

(*I love you with all my heart)

“Please, take care of yourself,” you pleaded softly instead. “Give little Janey a kiss from me.”

And with that, you got up from the couch and left him like a thief in the night. He’d called for you, but you’d been faster, running down the stairs and heading back to your car. You simply couldn’t handle it anymore. The waiting, the fretting, feeling so fucking helpless…  Wouldn’t it be better just to get it all over with?

The rest of the night blurred into a gouache rendition of melancholy and self pity. In the morning, as soon as you were able, you phoned Bud Askins — the Vault-Tec executive who had organized your admission into Vault thirty one — to ask for an expedited entry.

And just as he picked up the phone, you looked out the window and saw the enormous, fiery mushroom cloud rising as if from the depths of hell itself.

——————————————

The Present….

“There she is,” one of the raiders pointed at the old TV screen, where one of your movies was playing. “No wonder she looked so goddamn familiar. Got ourselves a movie star, boys.”

“Gotta be a clone or somethin’, no way she’s lived this long,” another one said.

“What does it matter? Whoever buys her won’t be able to tell the difference. Fresh meat’s hard to come by, and this is the luxury kind,” the first one gruffed, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

You could only glare at him from your spot against the wall. You were gagged, your ankles and wrists bound by old rope. Two days had passed, in which the raiders hadn’t done much other than tie you up and haul you around. You’d gotten a few scraps of food, but not nearly enough to even be considered a snack. Thirst and hunger clung to your very bones, but you were lucky that your survival instincts had kept you going so far. 

You might not have been a fighter before, but now you were determined to keep yourself alive at all costs. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that things were truly ruthless in the wasteland, and it all basically narrowed down to kill or be killed. 

You weren’t sure yet if you’d be able to go through with something like that, but you had no other choice but to try if it came down to it.

You were still holding out hope that the ghoul would come find you, but you were well aware that you couldn’t just rely on that possibility. You were running low on time, unsure of how long exactly the potential transaction would take to complete. Or if they would grow tired of searching for buyers and try to possess you themselves. 

You would not let it get to that, though. You were just trying to devise the least recklessly foolish escape plan possible.

The raiders had holed up in an old supermarket, which seemed to be their usual base. Most of the empty, broken shelves had been pushed against the walls to make space for whatever furniture they had managed to find. A few shelves surrounded the space like a makeshift barrier, shielding the rest of the building from view.

Rations, old clothes and other miscellaneous objects were scattered about carelessly, but you didn’t notice many weapons, which was potentially a good sign. More valuable loot was stashed in empty freezers, and you were frankly surprised they hadn’t tried to shove you in one, too.

The raiders went back to watching the movie, your own voice sounding strange and faraway to your ears. And then… you heard Cooper’s voice, that southern drawl bringing your attention to the screen. It was the scene of his Feo, Fuerte y Formal speech, when his enemy was at his feet.

Though the screen was riddled with static, you could still see the determined look on his face. Hearing his voice again gave you strength, but it also gave you pause. Why did it feel like it hadn’t been that long since you’d last heard it?

You thought back to the day you’d been abducted, still unsure if you had hallucinated the ghoul screaming your name. Even his voice had sounded different there, but not unfamiliar – more like a dream that had slowly devolved into a nightmare.

 There was a nagging feeling at the back of your head that wouldn’t let you rest until you had some answers, but it would all have to wait for a later time. 

For the next hour or so, you slowly moved your wrists back and forth in an attempt to loosen the ropes. You went still whenever any of them looked at you – like a deer in headlights, sweat trickling down your spine – but luckily, none of them seemed aware of your actions.

At some point, you had to fully stop as most of them prepared to go out scavenging, leaving only one man behind to guard you.

“Shouldn’t give you much trouble, but you know what to do if she does,” the leader had said, looking right at you with a shit-eating grin. 

But the raider left in charge hadn’t seemed too worried about you being a threat, falling asleep on one of the couches soon after they had left. When your wrists were rubbed raw and bloody by the rope, you soldiered through the pain until adrenaline kicked in, and you managed to loosen the knots enough to free one of your hands.

You swallowed down the nausea that crawled up your throat at the sight of your mangled skin. Keeping one eye on the sleeping raider, you began to attempt untying your ankles, but then you heard a crash at the front of the building. The raider woke up with a start and you had a millisecond to hide your hands behind your back once more. 

“What the fuck was that?” he muttered, looking around frenziedly.

You shrugged helplessly, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he stood, grabbing a weapon. You whimpered, momentarily fearing he might use it to prod you further, but he stayed put.

“You better not try any stupid shit, alright?” He said, pointing it at you in warning. 

You nodded quickly and he crept around a shelf, disappearing from view. It was eerily silent after that, except for your blood thundering in your ears. You waited for him to return, unmoving, for what seemed like an eternity. 

There were a few more sounds somewhere out front, but you couldn’t quite discern what they were. Still, you didn’t really want to wait around and find out. Who knew if you’d get another opportunity like this?

But just as you decided to push your luck and reached for your ankles, you heard footsteps. And with those footsteps, there was the familiar, faint clinking of spurs that you had come to know.

The ghoul suddenly rounded the corner, holding the raider’s bloodied machete, which matched the blood spattering his clothes. Talk about a guardian angel, you thought, somehow finding humor to keep yourself from absolute hysteria – even as your eyes welled with overwhelmed tears. A muffled sound escaped your throat, but there was still tape covering your mouth, so all you could do was widen your eyes.

“There y’are,” he said with what seemed to be a relieved grin, but it was short-lived. “Oughta kill you myself for makin’ me go through all that trouble to find you…”

He crouched in front of you to free you from your binds, tossing the weapon aside. You gasped as he ripped the tape from your face, momentarily glaring at him for his lack of gentleness. But your own relief outweighed any frustration you felt, and without thinking you threw yourself at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

He froze, feeling the jackrabbit pace of your heart against his chest. The breathed-out thank you in his ear almost gave him goosebumps, but he kept himself composed. You yourself couldn’t believe that you were so elated to see him, having been terrified of him only a week prior.

But now it didn’t seem to matter, because even if he groused about having to do the work, he had still come to find you. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that,” he said, shoving you back. “Get up, we gotta get outta here before the rest of ‘em come back.”

He hauled you onto your feet, steadying you when you almost stumbled into him. You glanced at the TV, where the movie had been paused on a close-up shot of Cooper.

You hesitated, suddenly transfixed by an emotion that was getting close to realization. The ghoul followed your line of sight and grimaced, averting his gaze. 

“You feel it too, don’t you?” You said, the words spilling before you’d even thought them through. “How ironically familiar it all is, in a fucked up way.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. When you looked over at him, something ill-concealed in his expression confirmed things without him having to say anything.

His eyes hadn’t changed… how did you not see it before?

You took a step closer and that seemed to snap him out of it.

“No idea what you’re goin on’ about,” he gruffed, turning away. “Now get movin’ or I’ll tie you to my belt and herd you like cattle. Andale!”

You pursed your lips at his stubbornness but trailed after him. You watched his back, hunting for more details to further reassure yourself you weren’t crazy — His posture, the way he walked, his strong shoulders squared proudly, as if in preparation for whatever came.

There was still so much to say, but first, you had to get as far away from this serpent’s nest as possible. 

On the way, he found an old tire iron, tested its heft, and then handed it to you. At least, it seemed less daunting than a knife or a machete, and arguably less bloody. The world might be a cruel place, but he would try to help minimize the blow as much as he could. In his own way, of course.

 He pushed out of the secret entrance at the side of the building, and you almost slammed into his back as he abruptly stopped. 

“Well, fancy seeing you here boys,” he said before you could even ask what was wrong, and a stone seemed to drop into your stomach. “Jus’ came to collect what’s rightfully mine. We’ll be on our way now.”

“Like hell you are,” came the barked reply.

You peered around him and saw only a handful of the raiders, the leader nowhere in sight. Somehow, that made you relax a little, the odds slightly more favorable. Not that you didn’t believe the ghoul could handle the whole group, but you just didn’t want to take your chances.

“Oh, yeah? And who’s gonna stop me? You?” The ghoul drew his revolver before anyone else could react, firing a shot directly at the raider’s head. “Whoops, I guess it ain’t gonna be him, after all.”

A stunned moment passed before the raiders were all launching themselves at him. You pressed back against the wall, watching how the ghoul moved with a swift, deadly grace. Two were down before they even knew what was happening. 

You moved from your spot to try to find some cover in case any stray bullets flew by you. Crouching by some rusted oil barrels, you kept your eyes on the action, listening to the ghoul laughing at a failed attack.

Then you noticed movement elsewhere. While he was facing off another three of them, a raider that had broken off from the rest was slowly inching closer behind the ghoul’s back.

Yelling out a warning would probably hinder more than help him, so you took a deep, fortifying breath and crept behind the raider. You tried to keep control of your breathing as you got closer, taking deliberate steps. You adjusted your grip on your weapon a few times, your palms sweating like never before.

But just as you closed the distance between you and raised the tire iron over your head, one of the other raiders yelled Watch out!

Still, you swung, striking him right across the temple with a sickening crack. He crumpled, knocked out cold, and everything moved quickly after that.

 In all the distraction, the ghoul dove forward and sank his knife into the nearest raider’s stomach. Then he turned them both around, using him as a shield before he shot the other two raiders.

Once they were all on the ground, he looked at you over his shoulder and grinned. 

“Well, well, look at you watchin’ my back for me,” he said, seemingly impressed. “Doesn’t make us quite even, but getting closer.”

You let out a breathy laugh, but your mouth suddenly filled with saliva, and you had to keep yourself from throwing up. All of the day’s events were starting to catch up to you, and adrenaline could only keep you on your feet for so long.

“Can we just uh… please?” You said, gesturing into the distance vaguely. “If I don’t eat something soon, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

He sighed, jerking his head to one side in a motion for you to follow. “Better hope there’s still rations in your pack, then, ‘cus I ain’t a free meal ticket.”

———————————————-

You slept for what felt like days, waking up disoriented to find the afternoon sun high in the sky. You rolled onto your back, wiping away the drool that had trickled out of the corner of your mouth. You were sure you looked just as terrible as you felt, but it was the least of your worries at that moment.

The abandoned parking structure you’d camped out at was cool and shaded, the wind blowing through it. It’d been dark by the time the two of you had found it, and you could only remember wolfing down some food before promptly passing out. 

Your wrists had been bandaged at some point, a small courtesy from the ghoul. Proof once again that he cared, despite his tough, biting exterior. The warmth you felt in your chest reminded you of what was still pending between you, and how it could wait no longer. 

You sat up and looked around, gathering your bearings. He wasn’t too far away, standing at the other end of the lot with his back to you. He was looking off into the distance, lost in thought. 

You watched him for a moment, wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, your thoughts were running parallel. 

Only one way to find out.

You got up, wincing at the deep ache in your muscles. You started to shamble over to him, but you only reached halfway before you were no longer brave enough to get any closer. 

“Cooper,” you called, voice tremulous. “… It is you, isn’t it?”

The ghoul turned around slowly, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. He was quiet for a moment, for once seemingly afraid to meet your gaze.

“Still stubborn as a mule, aren’t’cha?” he said, trying to mask the nostalgia in his voice with wry humor. 

You let out an amused huff. “Always drove the producers crazy.”

“Well, it wasn’t just them.”

Finally, he looked up at you, his gaze much softer than they’d been the past few days. At that moment – despite the ravages of time, radiation, and even misery – you could still see the Cooper you had always known. And while you were elated by the revelation, your heart also hurt to think he had undergone so much by himself, losing who he was in the process. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, knowing it was likely a selfish question. “From the beginning?”

“I never… thought you would see me like this,” he said, swallowing hard. “After that night, when the bombs were dropped, I didn’t know what happened to you. I just assumed you were…”

“Dead,” you finished for him. “I thought the same about you.”

Silence hung heavily for a moment, and you weren’t sure if you should move or not. 

“What about your family?” You asked, bracing for the worst.

“Lost,” he said simply, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I got Janey to one of the vault’s on time, but there was no space left for me.”

His pain was palpable, making your heart shatter anew. But how to take it away from him? It was impossible to just erase all that had happened, but you could at least help him shoulder the burden.

“Cooper…” you breathed, finally closing the remaining distance between you.

He shifted uncomfortably, angling his head away. You reached up to gently cup his face, making him look at you.

“A face not even a mother could love, ain’t it?” He murmured, braced for whatever reaction you’d have to him now. 

He expected disgust and rejection, but that was far from what you felt then – A yearning so deep you feared it would fully consume you. The world had fucking ended already, so why not confess how you felt? Nothing worse could happen if you did. 

“My feelings for you have remained intact for more than two hundred years, Cooper. You really think this is going to change my mind?”

He blinked in surprise, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you were lying. You merely smiled, open and earnest, letting him digest your words.

“That night, when you kissed me… My mind was all over the place. I didn’t know what to think, what to say, but you ran away before I could even try.” He chuckled weakly at the memory. “Somehow, I felt it was a long time comin’, but a part of me never thought it was possible.”

“I’m sorry it was all I could give you then,” you whispered, and he placed a hand over one of yours. “If only we had known…”

“Say the words for me, will you?” He rasped, face inching closer to yours. “I won’t believe it until you say it.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Cooper Howard. I loved you before, and I love you now, just as you are.” 

“You sure about that?” He said, but his resolve was crumbling.  “Not much room for love in places like this, especially with folks like me.”

“We’ll just have to make room for it then.”

He raised his hairless eyebrows, both pleased and amused at your conviction.“Just like that, hmm?” 

One of his arms snaked around your waist slowly, pressing you closer to him. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, desirous. The fire he saw in them ignited him as well — A long lost feeling that was returning to the surface with a vengeance.

“Bésame,” you sighed, mere seconds before his lips were melding against yours. 

You kissed with an almost frantic desperation, tightly clinging onto each other. It was the kind of kiss you had always dreamt of — devouring and insatiable, eager to fuse together.

His hands were curious but hesitant, roaming up to your ribcage and down to your hips, but no further. You grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your chest, not only as permission, but also so he could feel how your heart pounded for him. 

His own longing overflowed, clouding his senses. A part of him had still been unwilling to believe you could actually love — much less tolerate — what he had become. But when you moaned softly into his mouth, he knew he was a lost cause.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t very good with words that weren’t scripted. But fortunately for you, there were other ways he could demonstrate his devotion.

You arched into his touch as he palmed one of your breasts, a low sound in his throat. He moved to kiss your neck, lavishing your collarbone with his tongue. He wanted to kiss you all over, but he would need to get you bare first. 

You let him tug your blouse over your head, his gloves subsequently coming off. His hands were calloused as they returned to touch your skin. The tips of his fingers teased the waistband of your pants, and he smirked as you frowned up at him. 

“What? I wanna enjoy every moment of this,” he drawled, eyes dipping lower to watch your chest heave. “So many times I tried to imagine how I would do this. Sometimes I would unwrap you like a present… Others, well, let’s jus’ say I was like a coyote getting ahold of a chicken.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the morbid description, strangely not put off by it. “How romantic. I’m still trying to decide how I’ll take yours off.”

He shifted, something like panic flashing in his eyes for the briefest second. “Hold your horses, sweetheart. I ain’t done with you yet.”

You understood his hesitance immediately, deciding not to push it for the time being. You had years of patience under your belt, and his trust was something you did not mind earning again. He removed only his duster, draping it on the floor. 

He undid your belt and knelt in front of you as you wiggled your hips to help him take your pants off. There was a puff of warm breath against your navel a second before he planted a kiss on it. You shuddered as his teeth snagged the hem of your panties, pulling them down.

There was a noticeable wet spot on the fabric, which made him groan. His cock was straining against his pants already, but he wanted to focus on you first. 

“Come here, you,” he rasped, grasping your hips and bringing you down with him. 

As soon as you were on your back, his mouth was on you again. He’d wanted to feast his eyes first, to take you in in your full glory, but he found he couldn’t keep himself detached from you for too long. 

He kept his promise, slowly working his way around. You surrendered to his adoration with ease, every caress and every kiss awakening every part of you. At some point, you reached a level of sensitivity that had you whimpering at the slightest touch. The light sting of his teeth on your nipples sent electricity straight to your core. 

He lost himself in your smell and your warmth and your softness – a supplicant finally worshiping at his sacred temple. When his mouth finally sealed over your clit, your back arched off the floor, taut as a bow. 

“Cooper,” you gasped, delirious with lust. “Please, I-I need… Let me touch you, something, please!”

He shushed you gently, arms wrapping around your legs. “Just lie back and let me take care of you, darlin’.”

You wished you could say you lasted some time under his ministrations, but you came with embarrassing ease. That first orgasm hit you like an avalanche, sweeping throughout your whole body. You clapped a hand over your mouth as you cried out, not wanting to be too loud and potentially attract unwanted attention. 

He let out a faint chuckle, lapping up your release with gusto and nearly making you come a second time. He found he especially liked teasing your clit with quick little flicks of his tongue, your moans higher pitched. You tried squirming away from him, nearing overstimulation.

“You’re killing me, Coop!” You couldn’t help but giggle hysterically, pushing at his head. “Por favor!”

He pulled back, grinning roguishly as he licked his glistening lips. “What can I say? Seems I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then take me already,” you pleaded. “I can’t wait any longer.”

He needed no further convincing. He unhooked his arms from your legs and his body slid upwards until your faces were level. He was quick to undo his pants and push them down, bending down to kiss you as he took his cock in one hand, stroking it. 

You brought your knees up to his sides as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Slowly, he pushed inside of you, leaning his forehead against yours so he could see your reactions. Brows furrowed, mouth slack, cheeks flushed – you were the prettiest picture, in his eyes. 

“That’s it,” he exhaled as he buried himself to the hilt. “Takin’ me so good, like you were made just for me.”

“You’ve a-already made it clear th-that I’m yours,”  you said with a teasing little smile that you could barely hold as he started to move. 

He remembered his words to the raiders, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I did say somethin’ like that, didn’t I? Guess it must be true, then.”

His strokes were long and slow at first, letting you feel every inch as he stretched you. His eyes were fixed on your face, drinking in your features and reassuring himself that it was not a dream. He knew he wouldn’t last too long either, for all he teased you about it.

He started going faster, the snap of his hips harsher, as you begged for it. Pleasure was overtaking him, wiping his mind clear of everything that wasn’t the present moment. Your name left his lips like a prayer, his eyes heavy lidded and glazed over with ecstasy. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moaned. “I-I love you. Fuck, I love you.”

You clung to him, afraid that if your heart went any faster, it might stop altogether. Soon enough, he felt you tightly squeezing around him, and he knew you were close once again. He was right there with you, driven by your pleasure, and then you pulled him in for a kiss. 

He felt you tremble under him as you came, the intensity not letting you make more than a small, choked sound. With a long, rough groan and a deep thrust, he spilled inside of you. Lost in a feverish oblivion, having forgotten when the last time he’d experienced it was… if at all. No drop was wasted, in the end.

During the comedown, you lay there panting, his added weight on top of you comforting. You looked at each other and laughed, elated at the whole thing. It felt like no time had passed at all, somehow. 

“Tryin’ to steal my soul already,” he said, a fondness in his voice that made your stomach flutter. “Hold on, I need to get some RadAway in ya.”

Breathing heavily, he slowly pulled out of you and got to his knees. He tucked himself away and reached for his pack. He pulled out a yellow IV bag, which you recognized from Bud’s few lessons about the wasteland. You hadn’t even thought about it until then, but you were immensely grateful he had been prepared. 

He hooked you onto it delicately and slumped back down beside you, lying sideways. You grinned, snuggling closer to him. His fingers traced lazy circles on your belly as he looked down at you, adoring. 

The real world slowly crept into the edges of your mind, anxiety at being separated from him suddenly spiking. Now that you had him, there was no way you would just let him go. 

“I don’t know what I should do now,” you confessed, voice low. “I know I want you, and I want to be with you, but what about New Vegas? Do you think they’d send someone to look for me?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. It’s very possible, you never know. You’re more valuable than you realize, and I ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cus I’m biased.”

You snorted, shoving him playfully, but he continued. “But… I think I should still take you there. My sort of lifestyle in the wasteland ain’t for you, darlin’. I almost lost you once already, very stupidly.”

“That was my fault, though,” you said, pained at the guilt in his voice for not being able to protect you.

“Everybody makes mistakes. You could make a hundred more, but one of ‘em might just cost you everythin’. I ain’t takin’ those chances.”

“Well, you’re certainly more forgiving now…” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “But then what? You’re not just gonna drop me off at twenty one for safe keeping, are you? I would kill you.”

He laughed. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. But it won’t come to that, we ain’t stayin’ in the vault.”

“Oh? We aren’t?” 

“There’s a few settlements out there that are safe and, uh, friendly to my kind.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to bring much attention to his current state of being. You took his hand, squeezing his fingers, and he returned the gesture.

One day, you would make sure he would never doubt his worth ever again. You admired his strength and perseverance, soldiering through an unforgiving environment, continuing to live. He was certainly different from the hero that he always played in the movies, but he was a hero nonetheless. In your eyes, at least.

“Well, well… That’s all it took to bring you to your knees, huh?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. “You really thinking of settling down?”

“Oh, I ain’t retirin’, sweetheart,” he said with a huff. “But if you’re askin’ if I’m thinking of going steady with you, well…”

The two of you shared a knowing look, smiling at that echo from the past. At that moment, you felt that things might just be okay after all. You had been through worse things, jumped through bigger hurdles, and yet you had still arrived there. Who was to say you couldn’t handle more?

“Kiss me then, and let’s seal the deal.”

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

[gatorlovebot]

read more of my king!simon blurbs here

you weren’t expecting to have a good morning when you made your way up to simon’s chambers.

the previous night you had sent simon to bed with a suspected fever and obvious congestion in his chest. it was a miracle you were even able to get him out of the bathtub - him complaining of a chill in the room. his head felt warm when you were washing his hair and at the mention of you notifying his doctor he brushed you off, “i’ll just sleep it off.”

you had rolled your eyes at him and while you picked out extra layers for him to sleep in you formed a plan to stop by his secretary’s chambers to advise him to send notice to the doctor before making your way to your own chambers for some much needed rest.

his chamber door was already open when you arrived and you’re shocked to already see his secretary and the doctor in the room. you knew simon wouldn’t have just “slept it off” and that he would have just woken up even worse off than he was last night and grumpy. but seeing that he was being poked and prodded so early in the morning by his doctor and having his ear talked off by his secretary had you letting out a heavy sigh before stepping into the room.

“oh, simon.” you whispered, voice laced with pity as you took in his ill appearance, face pale and clammy as you approached his bed.

“oh, nice of you to finally join us.” his secretary quipped in a pissy tone.

“watch it.” simon tried to warn but his voice was choked and raspy. he had gotten worse throughout the night, most likely up coughing. he must be so tired and sore.

the doctor just ignores the two men, instead turning to you with a smile,”good morning, my dear.” he was an older gentlemen, having taken care of simon throughout his entire rule as king. you liked him, he respected you and took none of simon’s shit. “i’m very glad you sent for me, our highness has a substantial fever and there’s a rattling in his chest when he coughs that i’m not particularly fond of.”

before you can respond to the doctor, simon’s secretary is cutting in, “well, sir, it was actually me who sent for you.”

“if it wasn’t for her you wouldn’t even know that i was fucking sick, now would you?” even with one of his muscled arms flung over his face simon was still able to spit venom.

you couldn’t stop a satisfied smile from tugging at your lips. the secretary has never cared for you and you in turn had never cared for him.

“alright, i’ve seen enough.” the doctor sat up from simon’s bed, ignoring the secretary completely to reach into his bag for a vial of a thick dark liquid. “he should take this syrup once this morning and once before bed. he’ll need lots of fluids and even more rest. i trust that he’s in good hands.”

you couldn’t help but blush, you had always taken pride in your work with simon despite all the rumors swirling around the castle, and it felt good to have someone recognize it. “thank you, sir. and thank you for coming on such short notice, hopefully with your help simon will be better soon.”

after giving well wishes to simon the doctor was off and it was just simon, the secretary, and you left in the room. you looked at him expectantly and when he made no motion to leave you two alone you reminded him, “well, the doctor said he needed rest.”

the secretary cut his eyes between you and simon before finally objecting, “well, your highness, what about all of your appointments today? you a meeting regarding the peace treaty with-”

“cancel them!” simon barked. “does it look like i’ll be making an appearance anywhere today, you twat?”

you never really liked it when simon got mean like this, reminded you too much of your separate classes and ranks within the castle. but right now, you were enjoying his little display of power.

“but, but-” the secretary balked, “what if i go in your absence, sir?”

“fine,” simon conceded, “anything to get you out here. and just take notes.” he added.

“thank you, sir.” the secretary seemed elated at this opportunity. you had always thought of him as a little weasel, sticking close to simon just to climb his way up in the royal court. simon kept him around simply because he couldn’t be arsed to find a replacement for him. “i won’t let you down.”

and with that, it was finally just the two of you. you walked the few steps to the end of his bed, taking in his large figure hidden underneath blankets and shawls. “what am i going to do with you, your highness?”

“feel like my heads going to split in two, love.” he complained.

“aww,” you teased, “would the baby like a cold cloth for his forehead?”

he pulled his arm away from his face just enough for you to see his eyes. you could tell he was taking his time trying to come up with a response. you were prepared for him to come back with something equally as childish as your teasing was but instead he just sagged his shoulders and said, “yes, please.”

you walked to his bathroom with a smile on your face and a warm, fluttery feeling in your chest.

[macleod]

While I would say the bot problem on [tumblr] has gotten substantially worse (and more real-on-first-glance), I would have to say that the bot problem everywhere has become untenable. The "Dead Internet theory", the once-conspiracy (but no longer) theory that the activity and creation of bots has likely supplanted a vast majority of internet usage, has absolutely taken over. This effect didn't start with LLMs such as OpenAI, but they certainly exasperated the issue. This can be seen as a benefit, where as more people realize that this is how it will be moving forward with no end, the more people will stop using the internet as a scapegoat of activity as a 'cure' for boredom. There is a human need for human-created activity, and when you see beyond the veil that more and more activity and comments, and replies, and posts are automated, you will likely feel less 'included' in any culture, and become more of an independent person outside of the internet.

As less naturally created culture is produced, the less people will use the internet to solve their boredom issues, the more they will focus inwards and create art that isn't tied to artificially increased activity metrics. This is where the positive of a dead internet is created, that less consumption of other material due to the addiction created matrix and prison of analytics that has sequestered a large portion of the entire human race as a species within the last twenty years.

Funny enough, the amount of time to imprison the entire populace of human civilization into services that demean their value as an independent agent took less than an entire generation. Looking at it from afar, that is truly astounding.

The major upside to this, is that this will transform the internet from a model and service engine from an analytical prison for the individual, back into the original intent of the internet, as a superhighway for data transportation. This helps the internet turn itself back into a utility, and not as a toy to relieve momentary boredom.

The downside to the emboldened dead internet is that there is now a distinct possibility that culture is dead, that the usage of bots that can number in the hundreds of thousands at creation with distinct generated personalities will lead to an increased paranoia of 'reality', and lead to more disenfranchised real thought from real people, and relinquish thought control and idea propagation to a handful of powerful observers who game the system. If this sounds familiar, that's because we are already living within that system. Both of these are happening, both of these will continue to happen, and there really is no path forward without either of these happening.

To put simply, the creation of the dead internet, is likely a net-positive to the destruction of the individual (artificially inflated) data analytic creation prison, but equally is a negative to the destruction of any sense of democracy as a culture, and relinquishes control of original propulsion of ideas to unknown actors.

The other benefit is that this will result in the internet at large to become less 'social' and more as a utility, something that I believe could be a major net positive for the development of humanity towards a post society defined less by walls and more towards inward individualism and local community creation. This can be a benefit, but this can also be its own problem by disconnecting individuals from others of similar natural ideas, disenfranchising minority experiences, and yet again the problems repeats back to an increased paranoia of "what is real", "who is real", and what is a "universal experience" if so many 'bots' can supplant the vast majority of activity.

[gabbermutt]

I honestly dgaf about mr beast or anything that team is doing so I may not even post this but... seeing what's going on w ava tyson and how the greater Internet is talking about it makes me so angry because like. nothing substantial happened. she didn't hurt anyone, apart from embarrassing herself on the internet, yet I see people clambering to find *something* she did to hurt *someone*, even going so far as to outright ignore the "victim"'s statements about how he was not groomed, and continuing to tell his story without his voice. if ava was a cisgender woman the conversation would be over. the fact I've seen literally no one address how much of the harassment she's gotten is due to the fact she's a trans girl who made mistakes on the internet completely baffles me because it's so obvious that this is a huge reason why we're still having this conversation!!! it grosses me out so much seeing the response to this "controversy" compared to other CCs who have done much worse being endlessly defended by the same people doing everything they can to vilify this poor girl. they want to prove she's a sexual deviant or predator to fit their biased idea of what being a transgender woman means, even if it isn't true

[thebreakfastgenie]

"I'm voting for this candidate, but I don't endorse them" is not a position a celebrity can take. By virtue of being a celebrity, their opinion will be received differently and weighted more heavily than the opinion of someone who is not famous. It may not be rational and it may not be fair but it is the reality of fame. The only way to avoid "endorsing" a candidate, at a certain level of fame, is to simply not say who you intend to vote for. You can say something to the effect of "I know who I'm voting for but I don't feel qualified to tell anybody else how to think." Not to be a Billy Joel blogger about it but he did this for decades, and it wasn't exactly a secret that he had leftward political leanings, it was just something he kept separate from his career.

I think being uncomfortable with the idea that someone's vote would hinge on what a pop star told them to do and therefore declining to share is reasonable. I also think having different expectations in the current political atmosphere is reasonable. I also think people have expectations of Chappell Roan because she has a drag aesthetic and sings about her experiences as a lesbian. For better or worse, every part of the LGBTQ community is a politicized identity. You can make a case it shouldn't be and therefore it's unfair that there are different expectations for openly LGBTQ artists. You can also make a case that whether it should or shouldn't be, it is. These are issues celebrities from marginalized communities have had to deal with since time immemorial. I think in Chappell Roan's case it's also complicated by the fact that she does lean into her identity being politicized in some ways. It's a very difficult thing to manage and I echo everyone else who said she needs a better team of professionals to help her with it.

I would also like everyone to remember that political endorsements from celebrities are very often just a statement, like the one Taylor Swift made. Saying you're voting for Harris is not substantially different from that. Other celebrities, like Bruce Springsteen and James Taylor, are much more involved, holding fundraisers and acting as campaign surrogates (which is why you might have gotten emails from Carol King or texts with Ken Burns's face). That level of involvement is a personal choice some celebrities make and not something that should be expected.

[autumngracy]

So my county (Orange County, New York) is in a drought rn with no real end in sight; it's been two and half months since we got any substantial rain, and in that time it's only lightly drizzled for a maybe a few hours, like twice.

There is currently a wildfire burning close by, which has burned over 2000 acres already and was started by a guy in New Jersey illegally firing tracer bullets (which contain magnesium) at the Central Jersey Firing Range. (He has since been charged with arson.)

This morning, the sky was red at sunrise. The air quality is getting steadily worse. The wildfires are a 0% containment. A firefighter has already died because of a tree falling on him. People are worried about the fire (which is burning on BOTH sides of the Hudson) reaching large residential areas nearby.

The only thing that can help us now is rain, but it has to be a slow and steady rain, because the ground is so dry and hard-packed that if we get a heavy rainfall, the ground will not be able to absorb it fast enough, and it will cause flash flooding.

There was a massive flash flood last year, considered a "once in a thousand years" event, that damaged or destroyed a huge amount of infrastructure, roads, and buildings in this area, many of which still have not been fully repaired or protected from further storm damage.

About 30% of the land at our house was literally washed away down the creek that runs though it, which had been at a trickle before, and turned into a 8 foot flood surge in the course of few hours.

The government had promised disaster relief money for our town (and surrounding towns) due to the damage from this event, but later, after much of the repair had already gotten underway, backed out and left the towns to foot the bill themselves.

My family would have been completely financially devastated if we had been forced to pay for the repairs to our property (we're talking like, over a million dollars of damage; SEVERAL times what the property is worth), but because there were key public infrastructure elements running through it (a storm drain, a sewer manhole, and an overpass for the road that went over the creek) the town ended up paying for ALL of the repairs, because they were all issues that needed to be fixed immediately and affected everyone in the town.

I am so fucking worried right now that either the wildfires are going to reach us, or rain comes in time to stave them off but it comes too heavy and causes another massive flash flood.

I need people to understand how completely bonkers it is that this is happening in this area. Like. I've lived here for around 15 years and that WHOLE time this area has only ever had like, one other official drought, and only for like, a day or two. We are RIGHT on the Hudson river, with creeks running all over, but the creeks have mostly dried up, we've been under a Red Flag burn ban for weeks, and our town is having a water shortage.

Also, besides the lack of rain, it's the second fucking week of November, but we've been having days in the high 60's, 70's, and even 80's, and there's only been a few days recently that dropped down into 50's, 40's or 30's, and only in the coolest parts of the night.

I've only had to wear an actual coat so far this season like, twice. It was in the high 70's and low to mid 80's all through the week of Halloween. When I stood in line for 2+ hours to vote, during sunset, it was balmy out. The previous presidential election, at the same location and time, had been so cold that I'd been freezing despite many layers of warm clothing, and I couldn't feel my extremities by the time I was able to cast my vote. But last week? It was BALMY.

There are still flowers blooming and putting out buds. There are tomatoes ripening on the vine. There are still flying insects outside. All these things should have been getting hit by frost like a month ago and started the process of going dormant. Now, if cold does suddenly hit, it's probably going to shock and kill off a lot of plant life.

This shit is NOT normal. Climate change is real.

[wri0thesley]

The push and pull between Alhaitham and Kaveh would be absolutely maddening, IMO. I love how the dynamic you've crafted. Like, Kaveh would hate to see Alhaitham punishing you with a belting, buuut it does push you into Kaveh's arms so nicely. Sure, it's hard to hear your cries after Alhaitham puts you over his knee and belts you thoroughly--but the way you run to Kaveh at the first opportunity after, letting him wipe away your tears, get you an ice pack for your ass... there is a bright side.

cw: captive reader, physical punishment, manipulation, belting, yandere, dub-con, non-con.

He knows he should do something. In the grand scheme of things, the infraction against Alhaitham's rules that had gotten you this punishment was not all that heinous. You had done worse things - and, in fact, had sometimes even managed to talk your way out of worse things, Alhaitham wanting to reward your rationality and sensible things you said, instead of letting your emotions guide you.

But . . .

Ah. He hates seeing you like this, your face all tear-stained and your lips swollen, the robes that Alhaitham lets you wear around the house - nothing more substantial, because you would surely be less inclined to escape if you were too embarassed to step foot outside the door even if you could - discarded to one side, your body bare. Alhaitham, for all he professes to be a feeble scholar, is more than capable of wresting you down and having you bent over his knee, the tender flesh of your rump on display for both men to see.

You shoot Kaveh an agonised look, your lovely mouth trembling, your entire body a tightly wound line of tension. This will not be the first time that Alhaitham has belted you, but that does not mean Kaveh wants to see it. That he enjoys seeing it.

No. Kaveh does not enjoy the physical punishment that Alhaitham inflicts, insistent that it's a perfectly valid way to teach you lessons and that you learning pain comes hand in hand with disobedience is the greatest training he can employ and the most sensible course of action. He has to be there for it, because despite it all Alhaitham is the landlord and in charge of such matters as this. He wants Kaveh to see just how his effective methods net positive results, in the hope Kaveh will take a leaf out of his book - but Kaveh does not have to enjoy the sight of you bent over the scribe's lap, the thwack of fine leather against your soft vulnerable parts, the hiccup of pain that echoes around the room as Alhaitham waits patiently for you to count the strikes aloud.

Physical violence does not arouse the architect. He feels bad for you; knows that he will toss and turn tonight remembering the desperation you'd looked at him with when all Kaveh could do was give you a sympathetic smile, a twitch of his brows.

But for all of that, when Alhaitham is done with you and is buckling his belt again with a curt; "I hope you'll remember this lesson next time," Kaveh feels the briefest thrill of excitement. Alhaitham takes himself off - presumably to do something about the tent in his trousers, because the scribe does at least understand that having you in that way right now wouldn't be good with you associating intimacy with anything positive - and you stay on your hands and knees for a moment, trembling, before you sniffle and look up at Kaveh with the prettiest gaze he's ever seen. Diamonds glittering on your lashes, your bottom lip a wobbling pout that he longs to kiss.

Kaveh takes the opportunity to swoop.

A hand carding over your hair, wiping your tears, soft hushings falling from his mouth as his thumb catches another tear before it can fall.

"I know, darling," Kaveh murmurs to you, pulling you into him. It's no time at all until you're curled in his lap, your head pressed beneath his chin. You do not even reach for your robe as you would if he were Alhaitham, a hundred times more comfortable with Kaveh than with anyone else. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the top of your head and breathes in the scent of your hair, remembering how it smelt on his pillows. "I'm sorry he's such a brute to you."

"H-he's awful to you, too," you whimper out, as if the situations are in any way comparable. But Kaveh just gives you a sympathetic smile, another stroke, his arm tightening around you as if he can draw you in from the horrors of the world. You trust him implicitly, a situation he has carefully manipulated by sighing and occasional drops about his life, by listening to you when you sob and hesitantly admit things to him. By bringing you sweet treats that go against Alhaitham's wishes (he has a nutritious meal plan in place for you; treats are supposed to be earned, and you are not at all obedient enough for him to want to give you Padisarah Pudding just yet). By being there, by being an artist with a tender heart and saying to you how much he wishes he could help, but he too is under Alhaitham's thumb or he'd have no home at all-- "Kaveh--"

"I know," he soothes, letting one of his hands gently trace your spine, a touch that is intimate and affectionate and everything that Alhaitham is not. Your body presses against him in desperate search of his comfort.

"H-he's going to make me sleep in the cage again," you whisper to him, you eyes downcast. "H-he'll say he can't trust me whilst he's sleeping."

A twist in his heart that he hates to admit is triumph. You're always desperate after a night spent in the large cage Alhaitham had procured when he'd first brought you here. You suffer from night terrors already, but locked in those iron bars with nobody to press your body against - you're so needy for affection you'll practically initiate carnality yourself. Kaveh is always careful never to push you on that, and so when you do need it, if only to remind yourself you're still human . . . you always come to him, and not Alhaitham.

The scribe has tossed him a bone without even meaning to.

"You poor thing," Kaveh murmurs instead, sighing. You wince as you shift, the bruises and welts that are forming on your bottom clearly already causing you pain. "I'll get you an ice pack, yes? And I'll sneak you something sweet?"

Your fists clench into his shirt as if he's the only thing in the whole world you can hold onto.

And though he knows he should hate it, should resent himself for manipulating you like this, he cannot bring himself to do so.

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {7}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for reading! We hope you continue to enjoy! I'm sorry there was no new chapter last week - I was on vacation! x

Warnings: language.

“You like Gwyn?”

I’m laying on the bench, lifting, while Azriel spots me and Rhys stands near my feet, downing half a bottle of water.

“Seems nice enough,” I say, through clenched teeth. “Genuine.” 

Azriel grabs the bar and guides it back to its resting place. It’s Rhysand that asks, “How’ve things been at home?”

I sit up, running a hand through my sweaty hair before pulling it back. “Weird. Not bad, but different, I guess. It feels like we’re just tiptoeing around each other all the time.”

“You need to fuck,” Rhys says, and Azriel snorts but Rhys is dead serious as he completely contradicts Gwyn’s earlier words. 

Although I understand where Gwyn is coming from, I don’t think Rhys is wrong. Trying not to think of my wife’s naked body, I get a towel to clean off the bench before heading to one of the many treadmills for a run. I figure I’d get a mile in before joining my brothers in the steam room, then it’s home to make dinner for Nesta.

Hopefully we can find something substantial to talk about while we eat. I’m tired of smalltalk, it feels forced and I hate it. Not that it’s bad, it’s just…empty. I miss joking around and not being afraid to say exactly what’s on my mind, but I don’t feel like I can do that now. We’re not there yet. 

“Hey, Cass.”

I look up from the treadmill I’ve just stepped onto to find a familiar face. I give her a lazy smile. “Hey.”

I’ve known Justine for a couple months now, since she’s joined the gym. We’re often here at the same time, both on similar schedules. She’s nice enough, although Rhys and Az think that her showing up when I’m here is no coincidence.

Maybe they’re not wrong.

“Haven’t seen you much this week,” she says, leaning against the equipment. 

“Been busy.” I shrug. “Why? Miss me?”

She rolls her eyes in that way that girls have always rolled their eyes at me, that tells me they’re not really annoyed by anything I say or do. The only woman that’s ever truly been annoyed by me is the one that I married. Maybe that’s one of the things that drew me to Nesta, the fact that I could get under her skin. The tension it created that led to life altering sex.

“Just starting to think that you’re ignoring me,” she says, sweetly, leaning a little closer on the arm of the treadmill. Yeah, I know that move. Her breasts are suddenly a little more on display for only me to see. 

I keep my eyes on hers. Try to, anyway. I mostly succeed. “I would never.”

The smile she gives me is sensual, and it’s all playful fun until she slides a finger up my forearm. I should ask her to stop, but it’s nice to be touched like that. It’s a simple touch, nothing too forward, but behind that touch lies a promise of something more. Rhys is right. I need to fuck. I’m a man, and I’m horny as hell, and my hand has only gotten me so far.

“You almost done here?” Justine asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Why don’t we…get some dinner?”

Her hand is on mine. The reality of what’s before me finally hits me. She doesn’t want dinner. I know what she wants. It’s obvious that food is the last thing on her mind. I pull my hand away and step off the treadmill, despite the fact that I never turned it on. 

“I can’t,” I say, as politely as I can. “I’m sorry.”

She grabs my arm to stop me so I face her, and there’s hardly any room to breathe between us. “Can’t?”

“I’m married,” I say, as if that explains it all.

She looks down at the hand she was just holding. “I’ve never seen a ring.”

“I don’t wear it when I workout,” I say, simply, “but I can go get it from my bag and you can watch me put it back on, if you want.”

The words come out a little hostile and Justine’s eyes narrow. I blame it on the sexual frustration. 

She says, “You’ve been married all this time and flirting with me for months? That’s a dick move, Cass.”

“I haven’t been flirting with you.” I know the words are a lie before they even leave my mouth. 

She knows. “Liar,” she croons, and lays a hand against my chest. “I know you want me, Cass, married or not, I don’t care. Come on. Dinner. At my place.”

I take her hand and push it away, back down to her side. “No, thank you. I—”

I don’t get another word out before an obnoxiously loud smack sounds and my cheek starts stinging.

She fucking slaps me.

People around us all turn to stare as Justine says cocky jackass and storms off. 

My brothers are nowhere to be found, so they must already be hiding in the steam room, which I’m glad of. Otherwise they would never let me live this not-so-proud moment down. 

I send a text to our group chat, letting them know that I’m going to go ahead and go home. In the locker room mirror, there’s a red splotch on my cheek, barely seen beneath my scruff, but I’m hoping it fades quickly. 

No, I don’t want to sleep with Justine.

I would never cheat on my wife, I never have, even at our worst.

But it was really fucking nice to be wanted.

By the time I walk into the house, I have been in my own head for far too long. The house is quiet as I walk in, only setting my nerves on edge. Greg is asleep on the couch in a shaft of late afternoon sun. I scratch his head as I walk by, but he doesn’t even stir and I chuckle under my breath.

Spoiled little shit.

As I ascend the stairs, I see the door to Nesta’s office is closed. For a second, I hesitate as I reach the top stair.

Before I left for the gym, we agreed that we’d have dinner and spend the evening together. Her edits would be done before I got home. She’s been better about limiting the amount of time she spends on her computer, whether that’s writing, editing, planning, or responding to her overflowing inbox. I’ve tried to be more open with my thoughts and feelings. It’s been an awkward few days, but we’re trying. It actually feels like we’re making progress, even after our disaster of a date.

Seeing her office door shut feels like a slap in the face and this one hurts a hell of a lot worse than Justine’s physical one.

My jaw is locked and I’m doing my best not to grit my teeth as I walk by, heading for the shower when I hear her voice through the door.

“They didn’t exactly give me the easiest turn around. They wanted rewrites on multiple chapters in days, Eris. I’ve got a lot going on right now and—”

She was cut off as her absolute dickwad of a manager interrupted her.

I have no clue what he says, but I know it must be bad when Nesta says, “I’m. Trying.”

I know that tone.

People fear that tone. 

Another few seconds of silence goes by, then she says, “I’ll have it done. Alright?...Yeah. Yeah, no, I know, Eris, for fuck’s sake.” Her chair scoots back, and I take that as my cue to keep walking. Yeah, I want to know what’s going on, but if Nesta opens the door to find me while she’s already pissed, I don’t think she’ll like my prying. If she wants to talk about it, she’ll talk about it. 

I take my time in the shower, but by the time I’m down in the kitchen, taking ingredients out of the fridge in my sweatpants, Nesta’s still on the damn phone. I can hear her pacing upstairs. 

After cleaning a heap of green beans, I toss them with salt, olive oil, garlic powder, and parmesan before dropping them into a pan to roast alongside my marinated chicken. I’ve just opened a beer when I hear her office door open and she comes downstairs.

I don’t know what to say in greeting, so I raise my brow. She gives me an apologetic look, that quickly turns into her eyes wandering my body. Yeah, I didn’t wear a shirt for a reason. I want to know if my wife still finds me attractive, and it seems she does.

And I get hot when I cook.

Shirts are irrelevant. 

“I thought I heard you come in.” Her eyes come back to mine. “Sorry, I know I said I’d be done—”

“Is everything okay?” I ask, saving her the trouble of explaining herself. 

“Just, Eris…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll just get pissed. How was the gym?”

Well, I got slapped in the face. “Good. I think I went a little too hard, though. A little sore. You sure you don’t want to talk about Eris?”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth but shakes her head. “I don’t want to ruin the night with my work issues.”

I set my beer down on the table and walk towards her. She doesn’t move. Even in leggings and an oversized tee, she’s stunning. “Nes, it’s okay to talk to me about your work, especially if that asshole’s being a dick to you.” 

I want to hug her but I don’t.

I want to touch her, to kiss her, but I won’t. 

Gwyn suggested we start with touches, physical contact, anything as long as it isn’t sex, of course, but Nesta hasn’t indicated she’s ready for that.

Hearing that your wife doesn’t want to have sex with you because she’s terrified to get pregnant and miscarry again is hard to hear. I don’t want to push her into anything she isn’t ready for, even if I’m desperate for her touch.

She swallows, looking at my chest, but I’m not sure she’s actually aware that she’s staring at me. “The publishing company asked for two chapters to be completely re-written for one book and four for another. Meanwhile, I’ve got edits I’m still working on for previous submissions and I just…” Shaking her head, she finally meets my gaze. “The timelines they give me aren’t realistic for one woman.”

I don’t hesitate before I speak, knowing my words could set her off, but needing to voice my thoughts.

Time to see if therapy really has taught us anything.

“To be fair, Nes, you set yourself up with some unrealistic expectations. You’ve released what? Three books already this year? And you’ve got how many in the editing process?”

It wasn’t a dig. It wasn’t meant to point out that it was her own fault. It was the truth.

Something I would have said to her before everything went to shit.

With a sigh, Nesta closes her eyes and drops her forehead to my chest. “I know. That’s what he and I have been fighting about. I told him I can’t keep up with this kind of demand and he told me I did it to myself.”

I'm frozen in place. I heard what she said, but I’m floored by the feel of her skin on mine, by the contact that she initiated. I wrap my arms around her before I can second guess myself and rub a hand up and down her back.

“You have to do what’s best for you,” I say, processing what she said. “If he can’t understand that, if he can’t get the publishing company to understand, then fuck him.”

It’s the shittiest advice I’ve ever given, but honestly? My brain is shorting out, feeling Nesta’s body pressed against mine. She fits so perfectly against me, like she was made just for me.

“Easier said than done,” she murmurs, and looks up at me.

I could easily close the distance between us, could easily lean down and kiss her, and I really fucking want to but I contain myself.

At least until her hand comes up to rest on my chest. I brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear and rub my thumb along her cheek. It feels so good to touch her but I’m nervous, worried that I’ll go too far, that I’ll do something wrong and mess up this progress we’ve seemed to make.

I remember now that we’ve been having a conversation but I can hardly remember what it was about much less how to respond. All I can focus on is her hand against my chest. Her being this close is driving me insane to the point that it’s nearly unbearable. I hope she doesn’t look down, doesn’t come closer, doesn’t feel how much such simple contact is affecting me.

Her eyes never leave mine.

Her lips part.

And I open my mouth to say her name, but then the smoke alarm is going off and I’m spewing every foul word in the English language. 

I have no idea how long the food has been in the oven. At this point, I don’t even remember putting it in there.

I turn the oven off, clear the smoke, and reset the smoke alarm while standing on a chair in the kitchen.

And while I do this, Nesta is leaning against the counter, laughing hysterically. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard her laugh, but hearing it now makes every ounce of anger and embarrassment at ruining dinner disappear.

She’s laughing.

She’s happy.

Even if it’s all while making fun of me, the chef that nearly set the kitchen on fire.

Once her laughter finally dies down, she orders takeout, and we sit on the couch and eat it together, side by side. 

[alicewritingstories]

Whumperless Whump Event: Scattered in the Mountains

@whumperless-whump-event

Fandom: Linked Universe

[Previous] << Chapter 3 >> [Next]

Prompts for this chapter:

Alt 8: Broken bone

12: Trapped under rubble / "I can't move my legs"

13: Avalanche (if a rockslide counts) / Stuck in the mountains

20: "Get me out"

27: Concussion

Central characters: Hyrule and Time

***

When Time emerged from the portal, he was alone; even Hyrule, who had been right beside him as he entered, was gone. He looked round to see the portal just closing behind him with still no sign of any of his boys.

He took a deep breath and let it out again to quiet the thread of anxiety that was starting to twist in his heart. It wasn't the first time they'd been separated as they came through a portal and the others probably weren't too far away. Despite that, he always hated it. Alone, each of them was more vulnerable. While they had all gone through their adventures alone - with the exception of Warriors - they didn't know anything about their current enemy's motivations or capabilities that might help them outwit or fight it.

What was more, as he carefully looked around the rock-strewn, pathless pine forest in which he stood and smelled the air, he started to suspect that they were in a new era. That was dangerous; it meant that they had no idea what was in store for them and it would be even harder to prepare.

But standing around wasn't going to solve any of those problems and he set out between the thick trees, following the slight upward slope of the ground. If he could get onto higher ground, he would be able to get a better idea of his surroundings and hopefully some idea of where the others had gotten to.

Decided on a plan, he immediately hastened his steps, ears pricked for any sound from nearby.

All was quiet.

All afternoon, he walked, slowly climbing the hillside. Still, there was no sign of life except for birds and a couple of squirrels. The silence weighed on his heart but he kept trying to brush it aside. Worrying wouldn't solve anything.

In this sort of terrain, he could be a hundred yards from them and he might not know it.

At last, as the sun was beginning to set, he broke out of the trees onto a bare, rocky slope that led up to a mountain peak in the distance, and he sat down on a nearby rock to take a quick drink of water and a much-needed mouthful of trail rations.

The mountain didn't look like it would be possible to climb; it was all sheer cliffs and the scree slopes left behind by rockslides. His gaze instead went to the valleys that carved up its sides. The ones he could see all led down to a single larger valley between the nearest mountain and another. Some were steep-sided rocky gorges, especially higher up, but most were shallower, filled with grass and thick forests like the one he'd emerged in. When he looked back with that view in mind he could see that he had indeed walked up just such a valley.

The whole horizon was dominated by mountains, though this was the largest. He was evidently in the middle of a substantial range.

That would make it all the harder to find the others.

He sighed. Unfortunately, that was probably going to have to wait for morning; evening was beginning to draw in and he knew better than to stumble around an unfamiliar mountainside in the dark. He would be no use to any of them lying at the bottom of one of those unforgiving slopes.

He took another sip of water and another careful bite of his rations and set out again, edging into the next valley over to look for somewhere to shelter.

Just as it was starting to get dark enough that he was getting worried he found a thick stand of gorse bushes. It wasn't ideal, but he'd slept in worse places and he crawled under the spiny branches into the dry hollow underneath. Here, there was a little bit more space, carpeted with a thick bed of fallen needles that not only cushioned the ground but showed that water didn't run through here. He couldn't sit up in the confined space and felt claustrophobic and very aware of how impossible it would be to fight here if he had to, but it would have to do. He pulled out a dagger and laid it by his head, then closed his eye and did his best to rest, even if he couldn't sleep in an unfamiliar place with nobody to keep watch.

Goddesses, he hoped he found the others soon.

***

By morning he was cold and felt even more tired than when he'd laid down, but he dragged himself back out from under the bushes and looked around, blinking in the growing light. It was cloudy and there was a rain cloud hovering over a nearby slope. He watched it for a moment, wrinkling his nose and trying to work out whether it was moving in his direction. It seemed to be easing away, but as he watched, something on the mountainside shifted.

His eyes widened as the shift turned into a slide. It felt like he'd barely had a chance to draw breath before half of the mountainside was tumbling into the valley below in an ugly cascade of rocks and mud.

He was running before it had even settled, scrambling across the rough, rocky ground, navigating by dead reckoning and the rising cloud of dust that was rapidly beaten back down by the last of the rain. He didn't know if any of his boys might have been caught in that and that uncertainty alone meant he had to go and check.

Even though there would almost certainly be nothing he could do.

His own feet slid on wet ground as he ran and he caught himself on a rock, his heart leaping into his mouth. Once again, he reminded himself that he would be no use to anyone at the bottom of a cliff.

Still, it was almost impossible to force himself to go slowly and carefully, zig-zagging across the slope. He could feel the seconds ticking away. It wouldn't take long to die under a rockslide like that.

The rain was completely gone by the time he got there, running up the valley to the foot of the landslide, his eye flicking over the still-settling rocks and dirt. If someone was completely buried, he wouldn't be able to -

His gaze snagged on a gleam of metal.

He bit back a cry of horror as he made out the shape, the rubies set in the hilt of a sword poking out from an ominously-still heap of soil…

"Hyrule!" he gasped out and started running again.

He crashed to his knees beside the slide, only grateful for the fact that if Hyrule was still with his sword he was near the edge. Swallowing his panic as best he could, he started pulling rocks aside, forcing himself to be careful.

The second rock he moved revealed a shock of brown curls, matted with dirt and blood.

Golden Goddesses, may he still be alive…

One more rock had been mercifully keeping a pocket of air open around Hyrule's face. As he moved another, it caused a slide of soil into the space, but Time cleared that with a couple of quick swipes and held a hand in front of the traveler's nose and mouth.

Once again, he felt seconds tick by.

But just as fear and horror were closing a hand around his own chest, he felt the tickle of moving air. A breath. Hyrule was alive.

Time let out a relieved breath of his own and once again started carefully shifting rocks and clearing away dirt, revealing Hyrule's shoulders and one arm. The sword came free - the straps holding it to Hyrule's back had snapped - and Time laid it to one side, his eyes on one especially large rock that was resting against Hyrule's back at his waist.

Just then, Hyrule took a slightly deeper breath and moaned, the sound turning into a high-pitched, agonized whimper.

"Hyrule?" Time gently took the hand that he'd managed to dig out. "Link? Can you hear me?"

Hyrule twitched, pulling at the hand Time was holding. "Leggome…" he mumbled. "Won' le' y'..."

"It's OK, Hyrule. It's me, Time. I've got you. You're going to be OK."

Hyrule's bruise-ringed eyes drifted open, vague and distrustful, and he pulled at his hand again, then fell still with another whimper, his eyes screwing closed.

"Link, do you know who I am?"

Hyrule mumbled something incoherent, then his expression twitched and he made a soft choking noise. Time just shifted out of the way before he threw up.

Nausea, confusion, blood in his hair… Time cursed under his breath as he scuffed dirt over the vomit. He had no potions left and couldn't leave Hyrule alone in this state to go and search for a fairy. With a grimace, he wiped Hyrule's face as best he could and offered him a sip of water so he could rinse out his mouth. The fact that he was being cared for seemed to pierce the fog in Hyrule's mind and he looked up again, blinking slowly.

"Do you know who I am, Link?" Time asked again. At least he could see that Hyrule's pupils were the same size. The injury to his brain wasn't as serious as it could have been, at least not yet.

Hyrule's mouth opened and closed for a moment as he struggled to make sense of what was happening, then he murmured, "Time?"

Time grinned, a weight lifting off his shoulders. "Yes, well done. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"We… w're 'bout… p'rt'l?" Hyrule looked around. "But… m'ntain?"

"Yes, we went through a portal. Do you remember anything after that?"

Hyrule started to shake his head, then moaned and his eyes screwed shut as sweat broke out across his forehead. For a few seconds he breathed shallowly through his mouth, swallowing hard once or twice, then he slowly looked up again. Time once again gently took his hand.

"Don' 'member…" He coughed and whimpered. Time gave him another sip of water and watched with relief as his gaze cleared a little more as he gradually crawled back to at least an approximation of full consciousness. "How'd I get… Time.. how'd… where's others?" he asked pitifully.

"I don't know where the others are," said Time, speaking slowly and clearly so the addled young hylian could follow his words. "The portal separated us. You're the first I've found. And I don't recognise these mountains."

Hyrule sighed. "'K," he murmured, unconcerned as ever about the prospect of being lost in the wilderness. Time couldn't help a small smile, but it faded again as he looked at the piles of rock still burying the lower half of Hyrule's body.

"Hyrule -"

"Th' others…"

"I'm sure the others are doing just fine," lied Time, keeping his voice calm. "You just worry about yourself for now. Can you tell me how you're injured?"

Hyrule stared at him.

"Where does it hurt?"

Hryule closed his eyes and Time was just trying to think of a way to rouse him that wouldn't worsen his concussion when he murmured, "Head… Ribs, left side… Ack…" He winced. "B-back… And… and…" His eyes flew open, blank with terror. "I can't feel my legs… Time, I can't feel my legs!"

Time swallowed down his own shock and fear almost as soon as he became aware of it and slipped a hand gently under Hyrule's cheek, taking his free hand again.

"OK, Hyrule. It's going to be OK. Just breathe. Tell me exactly what you feel."

"I…" Hyrule took a small, shivering breath and closed his eyes again. "Pain… pain in my back… something… twisty? Ngh…" He twitched and his hand tightened on Time's. "It… d'ffrnt…" Another shivering breath. "Bit… cutty-crackly…"

Time nodded. He knew that when Hyrule healed he felt the shape of what he was doing in his mind and had seen him struggling to put the feeling of different injuries into words before. "Cutty-crackly", concerningly, was new.

"Legs… oh… ugh…" Another twitch. "There, but… tingling? Half numb? Like… fallen 'sleep. There's blood… but…"

"You're bleeding?"

"I… don't… think so?" He relaxed his head against Time's supporting hand with a faint sigh and Time let him rest for a moment, wondering anxiously how much of the numbness and vagueness came from his head injury.

But his eyes drifted back to that huge rock resting against Hyrule's unarmoured spine.

An injury Hyrule struggled to describe. Numbness and tingling in his legs.

A broken back.

That was healable, but first they needed to get Hyrule free of the rockslide. Time couldn't do that alone, not without someone to shore up rocks and make sure nothing else fell on Hyrule, especially since with a serious concussion and a broken back Hyrule wouldn't be able to pull himself clear and would have to be very carefully handled.

He looked around with a frown, hoping for some sign of the others also coming to check this landslide, for some indication that there was someone nearby he could call on for help. But there was nothing. They were alone.

Well, this wasn't the first time he'd faced long odds alone.

Time took a deep breath and let it out again, then turned back to the injured boy whose head rested limply in his hand. "Hyrule, don't fall asleep, OK? I know you want to, but we need to work out how to get you out of there."

Hyrule's eyelids fluttered. "Wha…?"

Something about the vague tone sent a thrill of anxiety through Time's heart. "Hyrule?" He tilted his head to look more squarely at Hyrule's face. "Hyrule, can you tell me what we just talked about?"

Hyrule's eyes opened, vague and unfocussed once more. Time's heart skipped a beat as he saw that one of the pupils had shrunk to a pinprick. "Time…? Wha… where'm I?"

Normally, it was best to avoid healing when a broken bone was still being twisted out of place, though it could be done. Healing magic could do a lot to realign damage and Hyrule's magic in particular could do things that even fairies couldn't, but that was because of his excellent control and ability to sense what he was doing even if he didn't fully understand the underlying anatomy.

Seriously concussed, he wouldn't have that control. If he healed himself, the wash of unfocussed magic might heal his back out of place and permanently replace whatever had been cut to destroy the sensation in his legs with scarring that couldn't be healed away.

But the head injury was worsening, blood presumably pooling in his skull and pressing on his brain. That would kill him if left to itself.

"Hyrule," said Time, very gently cupping Hyrule's face in his hands. "I need you to listen to me very carefully."

Hyrule blinked, but murmured, "'K."

"You have a serious head injury. You need to heal the head injury. Only the head injury."

"But…" Awareness was seeping back, even if his previous lucidity wasn't. "Ev'rything hurts…"

"I know. I know. But only heal the head injury."

Hyrule stared at him for a moment, but then murmured, "OK," and closed his eyes. Gradually, a soft turquoise glow appeared under his skin. His breathing hitched and beads of sweat appeared on his brow and upper lip as he struggled against his scattered, tangled mind to control and limit the magic that he presumably so wanted to direct towards his other injuries. Time bit his lip, touched at the trust Hyrule was placing in him to follow what must have seemed like a nonsensical order.

The bruising around Hyrule's eyes faded, an odd rattle in his breathing Time hadn't even fully noticed vanished, and suddenly the traveler gasped and whimpered, his free arm coming up in a weak flail.

"Easy, Hyrule," said Time quickly, catching his hand while keeping his head supported. "It's OK. It's me, Time. I'm here."

Hyrule's eyes flew open, clear and present at last. He saw Time and relaxed, gasping for breath.

"Time…" he panted. "My back… I can't… I can't move my legs…"

Time nodded, rubbing a thumb comfortingly across the back of his hand. "Do you remember anything since I arrived?"

Hyrule blinked. "Bits… you told me just to heal my head injury. Is…" He started trying to sit up before Time even realized what he was doing, but fell still with a heart-rending shriek.

"Lie still," Time told him firmly, holding his head and hand as he shivered on the ground. "You're still half buried under a landslide and I think your back may be broken. You must stay still. Do you understand?"

Hyrule nodded with a whimper, his breathing speeding up as panic set in now that his awareness of the situation was no longer smothered under the concussion. "I… Time, please get me out…" he whispered. "Please…"

"I will. But you need to calm down and stay still." Time gently ran a hand over Hyrule's dirty, blood-caked hair. "It's going to take some time."

Hyrule gulped, another shudder going through him. "It hurts…"

Time sighed. "I know," he said as gently as he could. "Breathe, Link. Just hold on. I'm going to get you out of there. It's going to be OK."

He would find a way to make it true.

[coraniaid]

Anyway, here are seven episodes of Buffy which I'd have given Amy Madison a cameo in.

The goal isn't to change the plot of any of these episodes substantially or to change Amy's overall arc (such as it is). Rather the idea is to do just enough work to make Amy feel like a recurring character with the weight of, say, pre-S6 Jonathan Levinson or pre-AtS Harmony Kendall. Somebody who is stil clearly a minor character, but who feels a lot more thought out than Amy herself often does.

I think you can do that with just a few strategically chosen cameos. Here are my picks:

1) S1E12 Prophecy Girl

Prophecy Girl brings back Jenny Calendar (previously only seen in I Robot, You Jane) and the previous week Out of Sight, Out of Mind had brought back Harmony (previously only seen in The Harvest). Both Harmony and Jenny would go on to be popular recurring characters, and I think making a second appearance in the first season would do wonders for Amy as well.

While I'm at it, I'd slightly rework Cordelia's story this episode -- cutting out her doomed boyfriend Kevin, who replaces Out of Sight, Out of Mind's Mitch without explanation and will never be mentioned again; and the slightly uncharacteristic friendly way in which Willow and Cordelia treat each other this episode. In my version of the episode, it would be Amy who roped Willow in to help set up the sound system at the Bronze for the Spring Fling, and it would be some of Amy's friends that they found murdered by vampires in the Audio-Visual Club.

(I wouldn't rob Cordelia of any of her other scenes, of course: she'd still get to drive her car through the school halls and bite a vampire.)

I think adding Amy like this would serve to remind the viewer that (i) Amy exists; (ii) Amy and Willow are friends; (iii) even with her mother gone, horrible things keep happening to Amy Madison.

2) S2E01 When She Was Bad

Nothing fancy here; just a quick establishing scene at some point to remind us Amy still exists (in the same way Larry makes a cameo at the beginning of Season 3). Have her show up at the library and ask if any of the gang have seen Jenny Calendar, because she's meant to be teaching a class but nobody's seen her all day, maybe? Rather than the approach that canon takes, where nobody seems to realize Jenny has been kidnapped at all, even though we know she was captured at least a day before Buffy goes to rescue Cordelia (and the gang spend all of that day at school, where Jenny Calendar should be working...).

Again, the point of this addition is to mainly remind the audience that Amy exists, but we're also setting up the idea that Amy might eventually look to learn more than computer science from Ms. Calendar.

3) S2E06 Halloween

Just one scene here as well: Amy commiserating with Buffy and the others, and admitting that Snyder "volunteered" her to go out accompanying kids that evening as well. The point being that we see that Amy has dressed up as a witch for Halloween...

(We wouldn't see Amy again all episode, and we wouldn't know whether she got her costume from Ethan's, but down the line the idea that Amy might have gotten a bit of a head start as a witch from her experiences this episode -- in the same way Xander remembered some of his military knowledge -- could definitely be a fun fan theory.)

If anybody asks Amy if she's comfortable dressing up as a witch after what her mother did, maybe she can reference back to the attack on the AV club or Ms. Calendar being kidnapped and suggest that she knows now that there are worse things in the world than witches...

4) S3E02 Dead Man's Party

OK, if I were rewriting this episode I'd find it hard not to make bigger changes. At the very least, I'd want to have a few more scenes from the POV of characters other than Buffy (so that there's less of a sense of Buffy's friends all treating her horribly for no reason). And who better for Willow to be pouring her frustrations out to than her fellow fledgling witch Amy?

Give Amy a line about "missing Ms. Calendar too" as well, and Willow's final speech to Buffy about spending the summer "trying to communicate with the spirit world" take on an interesting subtext.

5) S3E09 The Wish

This is an interesting one because I'm half-convinced Amy was meant to be in this epsiode anyway. It's the only episode before Amy gets ratted in which she's mentioned on screen (Willow tells us that she's heard some gossip about Cordelia from Amy, which is -- in canon, anyway -- the first indication we get in the whole show that Amy and Willow have started hanging out).

I wouldn't be at all surprised if Nancy's role this episode (in the alternate Wish dimension) wasn't originally meant to go to Amy. That's how I'd play it, anyway. (Of course, if Buffy didn't come to Sunnydale she wouldn't have been around to save Amy from her mom. But I think that's easy enough to fix: just throw in a line about Amy being grateful to Giles and the other Whte Hats for "saving her" from some unspecific fate, and make sure to establish that this version of Amy can't do magic.)

Of course, this Amy would have the same fate as Nancy -- fittingly, killed by Willow -- but I don't think we'd need to have that happen off-screen the way it does in the actual episode.

6) S5E22 Grave

I really don't think Amy's abrupt descent into magical drug addict works ... well, at all. So I'd like to see a much bigger change to her arc after being de-ratted (something like @idle-flower suggests here, for example). I just don't think her villain arc this season makes any sense (and I know it robs Willow of a lot of the moral agency she should have at this point).

Failing that sort of change, though, I'd at least like Amy's mini-arc this season to .. resolve? She gets the door slammed on her face by Willow all the way back in Doublemeat Palace and then we never see her again. We don't even know if she's staying with her dad, or if her dad left town, or what. How is she surviving at all? At least throw in a scene of Amy discovering whatever's left of Rack and looking angry and vengeful about it, surely? Remind us she exists, and that things aren't going great for her.

7) S7E12 The Killer In Me

You might object to this one on the grounds that Amy is already in this episode.

The thing is though, I'm not sure that episode's writers remember that she is? Amy is outed as being responsible for Willow's predicament, Kennedy promises to stop her, Amy snaps her fingers -- teleporting Kennedy away -- and ... that's it. That's the last we hear from, or about, Amy Madison. Not just in the episode, but in the whole show. She doesn't suffer any consequences, she never gets a face to face confrontation with Willow, there's no obvious reason why she wouldn't be free to try again and again. Surely we can do better than that?

At least give us a scene of Amy fleeing Sunnydale ahead of the First's wave of destruction, or reacting to Willow getting her own body back. Something that we can pretend amounts to closure for a character who has, after all, been a part of the show since the third ever episode. Even if her continued appearance on the show, season after season, wasn't ever something the writers conciously planned.