#i was trying to describe you to someone wednesday

[dysaniadisorder]

what albums do you guys have on vinyl :) or cds if you use cds

[reckonslepoisson]

I Was Trying to Describe You to Someone (2020), Twin Plagues (2021), Rat Saw God (2023), Wednesday

Loud but not aggressive, noisy and loose but very exact, there is plenty to love about more-than-indie rockers Wednesday. Singer Karly Hartzman’s lyrics seem inspired in a very impulsive way, by the everyday and her feelings in any given moment – which is great, intimate, close. Those lyrics end up really rather profound; only made more tender by her vocal melodies, which swoop up into beauty at a flick of the tongue. But Wednesday isn’t all Hartzman. There are few more effective ways of drenching rock music with character than the squealing romance of lap steel. There is so much simple joy in a rich bed of distorted guitars. There is a lot to admire in shameless country twang, in five band members all going ham, in sticking to a noise-rock-alt-country formula instead of wasting time genre-hopping, crowd-pleasing.

Pick(s): ‘Love Has No Pride (Condemned)’, ‘Twin Plagues’, ‘Bull Believer’

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hello! How are you? Hope you're doing good. I was wondering if I could request a Poly!Pastics x reader where the reader is a HUGE people pleaser and R does everything for everyone and it got so bad to where R stayed awake for three weeks straight to have time to make everyone happy. The girls have enough and force force their girlfriend to sleep and not stress over other people?

Sorry if it's too much or top specific.

Whats One More?||

|| Poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly!)

|| Warnings: swearing, super long, Reader's absolutely exhausted, Regina being Regina, comfort (i dont think there's too many, if i missed something lmk)

|| Summary: Reader keeps helping out everyone to the point where it begins to effect her sleep schedule. Ms. Norbury notices and brings it to the attention of the plastics, who comfort Reader and get Reader to sleep.

Requests open!

Started: April 20th

Finished: April 21st

~~~

To say you were a people pleaser would be an understatement. You weren't sure if there was a better word to describe it, maybe... doormat? You couldn't say no to save your life. It was a genuine problem that often spiralled beyond your control. Well, you could control it. If you just said no. But that was mean. You hated the thought of anyone hating you, so you worked overtime to make sure that never happened.

Today was no different.

"Hey, Y/N! Wait up!" Shane Omen yelled your name from across the hall as you stood at your locker, making you internally groan. You didn't like Shane but you never showed it. You forced out a smile as you looked at him.

"What's up, Shane?" You asked, keeping your tone your signature calm one. As opposed to the internal screaming that was going on in your head. Why couldn't he just leave you alone? You had been having an amazing day before he showed up.

"Mind doing my homework for me? I'm just so busy this week that I have no time for it. Oh, and my buddies too. I'll pay ya." He smirked at you, clearly trying to use whatever charm he could muster. This wasn't the first time it's happened. His friend had walked up next to him, holding a large stack of papers up to his chest which you could only assume was the entirety of Shane's friend groups overdo homework.

You held back a sigh.

"Yeah. When do you need it done by?" You asked. Reluctantly. You hated the thought of doing all that extra work, but then again you hated the thought of someone hating you more than you hated the idea of doing the homework. So you'd do it. On top of your own you already had to do, plus you had promised Karen you'd help her out with hers.

"This Friday." He replied, gesturing for his friend to give you the work. Which he did. He practically shoved it into you.

The sudden weight added to your binders almost made you stumble, this Friday? It was fucking Wednesday. That gave you two nights. Shit, you'd have to pull all nighters in order to get this done, your own work, AND help Karen. Maybe Karen should come first, since she was her girlfriend. Restart.

Karen, your own work, and Shane's shit. That's the order you gathered in your head. You could help Karen out tonight, get your own work done after and get it all done in one session so you could focus the rest of the day tomorrow on Shane's stuff. Yeah, that could work.

"Yeah... I got it. You don't have to pay." You smiled at him, he gave your shoulder a playful nudge. Sure, the money for your time would be nice. But you hated the thought of taking someone's money. Even if it was Shane Omen's.

"You're amazing, Y/N!" Shane and his buddy walked off, high fiving each other and clasping their hands together with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and readjusted the papers and your binder with your knee. Sighing at the sight of the stack you now held.

Finale bell went, showing the end of the day. Which you were grateful for.

You moved the papers and binders to one side so you could hold it with a single arm comfortably. Then opened your locker with your now free hand, holding your knee up to keep the papers from slipping. Grimacing slightly at your awkward option as you pulled your bag from your locker, stumbling back as the bag came out. Though your balance was caught by Gretchen, who gave you a soft smile and held you as you gathered your footing. Slinging the bag on your shoulder then holding the papers with both arms again.

"Thanks, baby." You smiled at your girlfriend, Karen quickly came up behind her and smiled at you.

"Y/N!" She gave you a quick hug, you kissed Karen's cheek since your hands were too full to hug her back.

Gretchen looked at all the stuff in your arms and raised an eyebrow," What's all that?"

"Shane's stuff. He needed some extra help." You explain briefly, not giving too many details. Gretchen narrowed her eyes at that. You were helping Shane? Shane Omen? Why?

She was going to ask more, when Karen suddenly frowned and interrupted.

"You're still helping me tonight, right?"

"No yeah, yeah of course! Come over to mine when Regina drops us off, okay?" You assure her, feeling a little bad for making her think you wouldn't be able to help her too. Even if it was an accident. As for Regina dropping you off, she pretty much always takes you to and from school along with Karen & Gretchen.

Karen smiles gratefully at you and pulls you in for a kiss, you happily kiss her back and Gretchen takes a photo of the two of you.

"That's so cute! It's going on our shared insta." Gretchen says with a little squeal, opening insta on her phone and going to the shared account you all have access to. She posts the photo with the caption: look at these cuties ���💕

You break the kiss and smile at Gretchen, your group text then goes off with a text from Regina.

|| Regina: where the hell are all of you?? I'll leave you here if you dont hurry your asses.

There's a pause before another text comes in.

|| Regina: YOU BETTER NOT BE MAKING OUT WITHOUT ME

You laughed when you read that one, Gretchen giggled too and you glanced at Karen with an innocent grin.

"She must've seen the photo." You say with a laugh, the girls nod their heads in agreement and the three of you head to Regina's jeep. You didn't want to keep her waiting longer than you already have.

At the jeep, Karen and Gretchen got in the back while you took your usual seat in the front next to Regina. Who was already looking at you expectantly.

"Just a sec," You tell her, attempting to stuff your binders and additional papers into your bag so they didn't blow away when Regina drove. Considering her jeep had no doors, something you found awfully inconvenient.

Regina groans and rolls her eyes," Ugh. Why do you have so much extra papers anyway?"

"Helping Shane." You reply, part of you had wanted to lie because you knew Regina wouldn't like the answer. But if she found out about the lie (and she always does) that would've made things way worse.

Regina looked offended," What? Seriously? Why the fuck?"

"He asked and I couldn't say no.." You admit in a mumble, making Regina narrow her eyes at you.

"You gotta work on that. Seriously, Y/N." Regina says, you finally get everything to fit in your bag before you looked at her with a frown.

"You know, Regina's right Y/N." Gretchen pipes up, leaning forward and resting her arm on Regina's back seat as she looks at you with a concerned gaze." You take on way too much from other people."

"But they'll get mad if I say no." You respond, turning your gaze to Gretchen for a moment.

"So? Fuck them, let them get mad." Regina shrugged and grabbed your chin, making you look at her before kissing you roughly. Your eyes widened at the suddenness of it but you melted into the kiss. She broke it off and wiped your bottom lip with her thumb, smirking at you," You owed me a kiss."

You blushed deeply and she laughed at your reaction, shaking her head and starting up her car.

"You're too easy. But fuck, Y/N. You gotta stop letting people walk all over you. You're not a fucking doormat." Regina's words may have been harsh, but they were the truth. You did need to stop letting people walk all over you.

~~~

But maybe not today. It was now Monday. You had managed to get everything done for Friday, much to your own sacrifice. You haven't slept a wink since Tuesday night before everything happened. And you were starting to feel it. Sure you could have slept on the weekend, but your girls dragged you around to house parties both Saturday night and Sunday night. You stayed sober to keep an eye on them and be the designated driver and you probably could have slept when you got them home, but you wanted to make sure nothing happened throughout the night. So you've been awake for almost a week straight. It was hell.

Today you had Chess Club, an extra curricular club you had chosen. You managed to get your girlfriends to agree to let you do it, Gretchen had put up a bit of an argument but when she saw how good you were at the game she let it slide.

You sat in your usual spot at the library, a chess board in front of you as played off against your best friend; Flow Scotts (short for Florence). You guys had met when you joined Chess Club, having been paired together day one. The two of you were a pretty even match and would face off against each other frequently, which built the friendship between the two of you.

You studied the board as you rubbed one of your eyes, plotting your next move while trying to stay awake. She already had you in check with her bishop, so you moved your own bishop to block hers. With the Queen defending the bishop it was a solid move, if she decided to take your piece blocking your King you could safely take hers with your Queen. sorry to the non-chess nerds who aren't going to really understand my rambles here.

Flow made a huff sound and you laughed, smiling at her when someone comes to sit next to your table. You didn't recognize him, so you assumed he must've been new to the Club as he watched your game with an interest only Chess Club members seemed to have in their eyes.

Flow blinks and looks up from the board, getting distracted from whatever strategy she had been forming in her head." Can we help you?"

"Oh! Hi! Um, Mr. Rapp told me I could come join you guys here. And like observe and maybe play winner. I'm James." He introduces himself, you and Flow glanced at each other and you shrugged.

"Alright. This is Flow, I'm-" He stops you with a smile.

"Y/N. I know, everyone knows. You're dating the plastics." James says, you sighed. You hated when people called them that. They were so much more than 'the plastics' behind closed doors.

"Right." You nodded your head.

"Also, I'm still sort of new to Chess and Mr. Rapp said that one of you could help me out with like extra chess lessons after school?" James continued on, you glanced at Flow.

"I have soccer practice after soccer today." Flow looks back at you. Flow didn't play soccer, she clearly just didn't want to tutor him.

"Yeah, okay. I'll do it. Meet here five minutes after the bell." You tell James, who gives you a grateful smile.

You had a test you had wanted to study for after school and a project you had wanted to use the school lab computers for, but now you were stuck tutoring James. You figured you could just pull another all nighter to get the work done. What's one more?

~~

Well, one more turned into many more. It's been a total of three weeks since you last had a decent, solid sleep and it was really affecting your grades. People just kept asking things of you and you couldn't tell them no. It was bad.

Ms. Norbury was the first to notice your grades dropping, as your grades in math were pretty solid. They weren't mathletes worthy but they weren't completely low either. You averaged a 75%, which had now dropped down to 68% with your lack of sleep and focus in class.

You were currently in math, which was your fourth period. Trying desperately to pay attention and not fall asleep. Though at one point you droop so low your head hits the table, startling you into a more upright position as people stared at you in confusion. Ms. Norbury narrowed her eyes, sleeping in class wasn't like you. She was sure something was wrong.

"Okay, everybody take 5." She says, people get up and head out while she walks over to you.

"Y/N? Everything alright?"

"Just tired." You tell her in a mumble, you weren't a mumbler.

"Honey, when was the last time you slept?" She asked, crouching down in front of your desk to get a better look at you. She frowned as she saw the dark circles and the very evident exhaustion.

You simply shrugged, to you her voice felt far and distant so you had to put all your remaining energy into hearing her. You couldn't remember the last time you had a good sleep. You knew it had been a while ago, though. All your days just felt as though they had blended together.

That concerned Ms. Norbury further, she debated if she should just send you home at this rate. After all it was just fourth period and she was sure you'd have people in other classes who could get the work you missed.

"Come on, Y/N. How about we call one of your parents and have them come get you?" She said softly, knowing a good sleep at home would be what you needed.

When you heard that you shook your head, you knew your parents wouldn't come get you. Even if you had been throwing up they'd tell you to tough it out.

"They wouldn't.." You say in a mumble, Ms. Norbury frowns at that and tries to think of a plan B. She knew the various cliques and which students hung out with who, so she knew you were close with the plastics. The question was which one would be come get you? Little did she know any one of them would do it in a heartbeat.

She sighed quietly to herself and stood up," Alright, just wait here." She tells you before heading to the class phone and giving someone a call. You weren't sure who.

About five minutes pass before Gretchen comes running into the room, when she saw you she paused and looked at Ms. Norbury. They seemed to have some silent conversation, no. Their mouths were moving. You just couldn't focus enough to hear what they were saying.

You slumped back in your seat and your eyes started to close, exhaustion catching up to you when you felt hands on your shoulders and looked to see Gretchen watching you with worry all over her face.

Gretchen had known that something was wrong. She knew it from the start, but every time she tried to talk about it with you you would just say 'tired' and nothing else so she gave up pressing you on it. She knew she should have tried harder to get the information out of you.

Even Regina had tried too at one point, she noticed when you weren't fully present in a conversation she was having with you. You just kept replying with 'mhm' 'uh huh' and so she tested it by saying 'I dont know what to wear to school tomorrow, think I should go topless?' you replied with a simple 'yepper' and that basically confirmed for her that you weren't listening. So, when she asked what was wrong after getting your attention, you just replied 'tired' to her too. She didn't think to press further.

"Y/N, are you listening?" Gretchen asked, a frown on her lips after she had snapped her fingers to get your attention. You blinked and looked at her.

"Huh?" You didn't realize she had been trying to talk with you.

"I'm taking you to Regina's, Ms. George will come get us." Ms. George was your backup. If one of you needed to go home for whatever reason or just wanted to skip and relax, she always said that she would come get you girls," I texted the groupchat and told them what was going on. They're on their way over, just hang tight. Okay?"

You nodded and not too long after all three were standing before you, Ms. Norbury was back at her desk. Letting you girls have your space.

"You look exhausted." Karen points out. Leave it to Karen to point out the obvious.

Regina narrows her eyes at her and sighs before looking back at you, resting her hand to your cheek and rubbing it gently with her thumb. You lean in a little closer to her touch," Why haven't you been sleeping?"

"Busy." You reply, unable to gather enough energy to say more. The three exchanged looks.

"Busy with what?" Regina replied, she knew you had your Chess Club, tutoring Karen, and your own work on top of that but she didn't think that was enough to get you this tired.

"Helping people." You explain, talking simply again. She groaned at that. That's what caused this?

"Baby, I thought I told you to say no?" Regina takes her hand off you, you feel the warmth leave and you almost slump forward on your desk. You'd been using her hand as support. Her hands rest on her hips as Gretchen catches you and keeps you up, giving your forehead a soft kiss.

"Mean." You respond.

"Excuse me?" Regina looked offended, thinking you had called her mean. You shook your head and desperately looked at Gretchen to translate.

Gretchen tensed, racking her brain to think of what you meant," Did you mean saying 'no' was mean?"

You nodded.

"That's not mean. You can always say no, that's what Gretchen says to me all the time." Karen pipes up, Gretchen gives her a soft look and nods in agreement.

"Y/N/N, you're allowed to have boundaries." Gretchen tells you," is it really worth it if it's doing this to you?"

You were going to respond but there was a knock at the door, you glanced at it and saw Flow there.

"Hey, Y/N. I would've texted but I was walking by here anyway, you coming to Chess tonight?" She asked.

Regina scoffed and folded her arms," Absolutely not. Fuck off."

"Regina, language!" Ms. Norbury narrowed her eyes at the blonde who rolled her own.

Flow tensed at Regina's harshness and looked at you. Gretchen scrambles a response.

"What Regina meant is that Y/N is just super tired, she's going home to rest tonight. Right, baby?" Gretchen looked at you. Expecting you to agree.

Regina looked at you with a look that was basically commanding you to tell Flow 'no'. You hated it.

"Resting tonight..." You grumbled, continuing to speak in simple terms.

Flow's gaze shifted to concern but she nodded her head," okay.. let me know how you're doing later, alright?" She left after that.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Regina kept her gaze on you.

"Awful." You shook your head, disagreeing with her which makes her scoff.

Soon enough, Ms. George comes and picks all three of you up. Bringing you to their place. You were brought to Regina's bed by your girlfriends, who all snuggled up with you in bed. Gretchen on your right, Karen on the left and Regina on top. You easily fell asleep once Regina started giving your neck soft, soothing kisses. Your girls stayed close to you.

You slept for a solid 24 hours and some.

[biancadoes1]

YOUR FAVORITE ANON HERE

I've been thinking of the recently released pap pics and the circulation they are making from DM to E! News to People Magazine and every gossip site in between. And I have THOUGHTS...

First thing to remember: Nicola has always told us to pay attention and listen to the story SHE IS TELLING YOU and not the one you read on gossip sites.

Back in August, Nicola attended the music festival on Sunday, August 18th. We did not see any papped pics of her and JD until one week later on Sunday, August 25th when the Irish Sun published an online article. I believe that the pap company may have reached out to try and sell the pics to Nic's team first and and when they would not pay the (typically) exorbitant fee, they may have negotiated for the company to not allow them to be released until 8/25. This was the day before the Kate Spade release which would help bury the pictures. It also gave Nic an opportunity on Thursday, August 22nd to update her insta grid with the "it's all yours" post for Luke. This is a subtle nod to fans that HER STORY includes Luke.

Here we are now. I am of the belief that these pictures were taken in late September (pre-NYC). I think someone may have been following Nic and JD with an agenda to obtain these pictures for nefarious reasons. The photos were taken and were held for a "rainy day." It is important to note there is an entire faction of the "fandom" actively rooting against Nicola and Luke and going to extreme lengths to collect evidence for this Nicola and JD narrative. On Wednesday, October 16th, Nicola's TIME article was released online and included an entire paragraph about Luke including a line about people wanting them to get married. This took the internet by storm and I can only assume angered those with the opposing narrative. So they have the photos released. Again, I'm sure the photos were attempted to be shopped to her team and they once again declined with the caveat of one week til release. The next four days include a media blitz on the internet. Interviews and clips from the S3 World Tour are re-released along with never been seen footage. Interviewers were conversing with fans about the chemistry and love between Nicola and Luke. This all culminated on Monday, October 21st when Nicola surprised everyone with a selfie of her and Luke. I do NOT believe this was the "S4 Polin Selfie" - this was purely just a spur of the moment selfie between two people in love. And I believe this was a repeat of her "it's all yours" situation from August and she was telling everyone that HER STORY IS LUKE. Tuesday, October 22nd ends with Nicola posting a random story about a "paper moon" which can also be used to describe a fake relationship or situation - an ominous warning to all fans involved.

Once the pictures were dropped by Deuxmoi on Wednesday, October 23rd, tags on Nicola's instagram were actively being deleted. The night ended with 10 pictures from the pap drop remaining in her tagged section and more of them were deleted the following day. By end of the day on Thursday 10/24, the "date night" pics were spread to all the major gossip sites including E! News, Entertainment Tonight, and People Magazine. All of these sources cited the pictures as being taken on different dates: Monday 10/22, Tuesday 10/23, the week of 10/15 - the true mark of a sketchy situation.

I want to end this by acknowledging that I know the fandom is frustrated and upset but I think it's important to not feel "duped" by Nicola. I do not believe she was involved in what occurred with these pictures. She was purely walking home with her FRIEND and they may have been a little closer but I think that can be chalked up to him helping her and covering her through the scary situation - imagine if you were walking home one night and got ambushed by cameras on a side street! Her team did work on the front end with the media push of the old clips and she posted a pic with Luke for everyone. At this point, they're just letting her name be out there and living up to the old adage of "no press is bad press." I PROMISE YOU that this is not a PR situation that they will not be able to get out of. There will be a plan in place and she will get through this.

And from this point on, it IS important to remember the following: PAY ATTENTION TO THE STORY NICOLA IS TELLING YOU AND NOT THE STORY THAT DEUXMOI AND THE GOSSIP SITES ARE TELLING YOU. And if you feel the need to spiral, it might be time to take some time off away from social media because none of this affects any of us personally. We just want Nicola and Luke to be happy and healthy!

My favorite anon never misses.

Make you sure you all study this.

I WILL be testing you on this later.

[oh-katsuki]

the notebook theory (tsukishima kei x reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 24.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spacing out?” 

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

“Got something due?” 

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

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

“You’re like a girl with a crush.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tadashi motions towards him. 

“Aw, why didn’t you say hi?” 

“You seemed busy,” Kei lies. 

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

“Sure,” Kei nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” Blood rushes into his ears. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m your friend too, ya know?” 

“That so?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Tall order,” he snorts. 

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

“Uh, yeah…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that mean?” 

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

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

“Yeah, you look like the manga type.” 

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

“Maybe,” you laugh. 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re twisted, you know?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhm, yeah? Why?” 

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

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

“Good, I’ll see you, right?” 

“Yeah, you will.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Kei responds. 

“So then what was that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts. 

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

“Who?” Kei plays dumb. 

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

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

“Why did you ignore them then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“Did something happen?” 

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

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

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

“Doing what?” 

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

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

“I don’t do that!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s normal?” Kei sniffled. 

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

“Yeah, it’s normal.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Thought you went home,” he says. 

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

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

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Kei answers automatically. 

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

“Yup, that’s exactly it.” 

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

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

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

Kei nods a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Today?” 

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

You hum, leaning back on your hands. 

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

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

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

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

“Did you ever apologize?” 

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

“For what you did in school?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Kei shakes his head a little, smiling. 

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

“Thanks,” he says softly. 

“No problem,” you respond. 

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

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

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

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

“What’d he say?” 

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

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

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

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

You nod again, your eyes wide. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good of you.” 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

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

“At her?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Expect a call!” 

Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.

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

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

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

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

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

“Just wanted to apologize again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, are you good?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Kei says. 

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

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

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

“Yup, see you in the morning.” 

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

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

“Hello?” 

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” you say.

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

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

“Kei?” you say. 

“Yeah?” 

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

“Okay,” he swallows. 

“I feel a lot closer to you.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Goodnight, Kei,” you practically whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kei chokes on his exhale. “What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that the one without the arms?” 

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

You hum a bit. “Do you like it?” 

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks. 

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

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

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

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

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

Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up. 

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

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

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

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

“But you like me anyway, yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity. 

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

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

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

“Where’re you headed?” he questions. 

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

“I can’t. I’ve got a class in 15.” 

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

“We?” Kei raises an eyebrow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah sure, why wouldn’t it be?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna run? Can’t be late, can you?” 

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

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

“Have a good class!” You call. 

“What’s the rush?” he questions. 

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Sure it isn’t,” he laughs. 

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

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

“I just said it wasn’t like that!” 

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

Heat floods Kei’s face, painting it red. 

“Caught ya,” Tadashi smiles. 

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

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

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

Tadashi barks a laugh. “So what changed?” 

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

“Tired of what?” 

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

“Because of them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” he chokes out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so one year older than me?” 

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

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

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

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

“Your sillies?” Kei laughs a little. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hanging out,” you smile lightly. 

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

“Wanna go sit outside for a bit then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort. “I hope so.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about us is so similar?” 

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

“See?” 

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

“Am I?” 

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

“Yeah, you are.”

“How so?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll pass, pipsqueak,” Kei scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re not cleaning, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Touch me,” you breathe out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah but-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Christ,” he groans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Liking people,” he says. “Dating.” 

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

“Shit, seriously?” 

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

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

“Huh,” he says. “Could you tell?” 

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

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

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

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

Another bout of silence follows. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” you say. “Me too.” 

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

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

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

“Okay,” he says. 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort. “What does that even mean?” 

Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” Kei asks. 

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

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

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

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

“Me? Gentle?” Kei scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

“For what?” You laugh. 

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

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

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

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

“What? That I care about you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I do,” you laugh a little.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s move in together,” he says. 

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

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

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

—

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

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

The notebook theory. 

[sommerbueckers]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬³

___________________________________________________________

MYLA HAD JUST FINISHED putting the last of her blueberries on her toast when her phone rang, the rhythmic sound cutting through the comfortable silence of her apartment. With a newfound pep in her once idle step, she rummaged around the countertop until she found the device hidden under a dishrag.

Paige's name was displayed in bold letters at the top of the screen, Myla's shocked face in the camera below. A FaceTime call this early in the morning? Either Paige had gotten started early or she woke up feeling like Beyonce. Myla, on the other hand, was neither. She ran her fingers over her puffy lips, grumbling at the way the bags under her eyes were more noticeable than usual.

Releasing a defeated sigh, she swiped right and waited as Paige's face appeared on the screen. Her hair was in a low slicked bun and she was clad in a red and navy 'UCONN Basketball' shirt.

"Hey stranger," Myla beamed brightly.

"I'm the stranger?" the blonde quirked an eyebrow.

"What does that mean?"

"Oh nothing," she shrugged, "just might've been waitin' for a call or somethin' ion know."

Myla grabbed her plate and her phone and sat down in a chair on her balcony. She took a sip from the coffee she had previously placed out there, hiding her cheeky smile from the other girl.

It had been four days since the girls had been together, but to Paige it felt like years. She couldn't even fathom how she had done it before, completely neglected the existence of someone who could only be described as heaven-sent that is. Not a day had gone by since that wonderful Wednesday night where they didn't talk, both girls managing to find time in their busy schedules for each other.

"Well I didn't wanna be annoying," the older girl defended gently, shrugging her shoulders. She set the phone up against a pillow in front of her and placed the plate in her lap.

"How would you be annoying?"

"Like calling you too much or just like...y'know being clingy."

Paige placed her palm against her forehead, releasing a breathy laugh.

"Being clingy isn't annoying when it's from the right person," she spoke matter-of-factly. She leaned back in the seat of her car, smiling at the way Myla had shyly ducked out of view. "What're you doin' today?"

"I have a photoshoot at one, so that's probably gonna take up a couple hours of my afternoon. And then I wanted Rox to try her first pup cup today, so we're gonna do that. But, that's it."

"Awe, my lil Roxie baby. Where is she?"

"Your 'Roxie baby'? You've never even met her, and I think she's in her bed."

"I don't have to meet her to love her, we jus' got a special connection," Paige explained simply.

"You have a special connection with my dog?" Myla questioned.

"Yeah, I do."

"Close, I think that's called bestiality."

"Oh you're sooo blocked," the blonde scoffed.

Playfully rolling her eyes, Myla took another bite of her toast.

"What're you eating?"

"Toast with greek yogurt and blueberries."

Paige cringed, "Yeah that's that model diet, greek yogurt is fucking insane."

"Noo, no you jus' gotta let it grow on you. Once you get used to the taste it's really not that bad," Myla argued, but the blonde wasn't having it.

"Nah i'm so good. I'll stick to my Yoplait and my strawberries with sugar sprinkled on top," Paige laughed, "Remind me to bring a snack bag when I come to stay with you."

Myla wanted to laugh at Paige's comment, strawberries with sugar sounded absolutely amazing and she would've loved to try it. She wanted to sit on the balcony and cuddle Roxie while Paige busied herself in her kitchen, fixing them a bowl of strawberries with sugar. She wanted to revel in the faint buzz of New York City and the soft summer breeze that ran by whilst she and Paige made small talk, a bowl of strawberries with sugar between them.

The thought of that actually happening, of her waking up with Paige in the same apartment as her made her unwillingly fall silent. It scared her if she was being honest. She had waited so long for a moment like this, to feel as close and connected to Paige as she felt right now. But giving herself to someone who had overlooked her in that way for so long, she couldn't help but fear it would come back to bite her in the ass. Noticing her sudden quietness, Paige spoke up.

"You okay?"

Myla perked up, "Yeah, all good. I was just trying to decide what to wear to my shoot. 'Cus i'm gonna keep that on when I take Roxie out after."

"Really? You get a chance to talk to me and you're thinkin' about clothes instead?" Paige narrowed her eyes.

"Stop! I'm sorry," the model laughed, "you have my attention now, I promise."

"Hm, have you taken her to Central Park?"

Myla shook her head.

"Don't do it yet, do it like -- next weekend," Paige suggested.

"Why next weekend?"

"Well I heard the weather is supposed to be nice up there. Hot, sunny...blonde."

Myla let her jaw drop to the floor and she let out a string of nervous laughter. "Are you coming to see me?" she not so subtly squealed.

"I guess we'll see," Paige shrugged, though her own excitement was even more intense than the other girl's.

"Okay, keepin' me on my toes I see."

"You know it. I gotta go though, I got a workout so..." she pursed her lips out, "i'll see you later?"

"Yes, i'll call you tonight."

"That's what I like to hear."

"Mhm, bye Paige."

"See you later, Myla."

___________________________________________________________

mylamintz new photos coming soon ???

___________________________________________________________

short little chapter because i missed paige and myla and ik yall did too so i wanted to give u guys a lil smth

obviously i have my own ideas for where i want the story to go, but if there are things u guys wanna see happen in this story like dramaaaa plots or js little moments between our girls DO NOT be afraid to shoot me a message abt it

like i literally love when i see new things in my inbox

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (6)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three Leverage Crew One

Hi it's been a fucking minute since I updated this one orz thank you so much for your patience, y'all

Anyway, this fic was line-jumped, and it's one of two jumps I received on kofi. If you'd like to learn more about line-jumping your favorite series, you can read this post

There are three memes at the end for you <3

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---

The first time Steve got expelled, his father picked him up from school while his mother stayed to chat with the principal. He was twelve at the time, confused about what he'd done wrong, and feeling validated by his father's ecstatic praise of his initiative.

He'd wound up in Grandmama's kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the island while Wednesday added spider legs to a mixing bowl. Fester had gone off the find Gomez after telling Wednesday to keep an eye on Steve. She'd immediately turned away after Fester left the room.

"So," she said, idly stirring, "you've been expelled. What for?"

"I brought rattlesnakes to class."

"Why?"

"We were learning about snakes. I thought the teacher would appreciate live examples."

"How many?"

"Twenty seven. One for each student."

"Did they bite anyone?"

"No," Steve said, frowning and not bothering to conceal his disappointment at the fact.

"That's a shame."

Steve nodded, watching Wednesday for a few minutes before asking, "What are you making?"

"A cake for Joel."

"Why?"

"He insists on celebrating our anniversary."

"What kind is it?"

"Cinnamon with walnuts."

Steve thought for a moment, trying to figure out why that specific combination sounded familiar. Finally, he said, "I thought Joel was allergic to those."

"He is allergic to many things," Wednesday said, looking over her shoulder to smirk at Steve. "But especially cinnamon and walnuts."

"How come you're making it then?"

"To make sure he remembers how breathless I made him when we first met."

Steve thought that might be one of the most romantic things he's ever heard. He carefully filed the idea away in the back of his mind, hoping he'd one day find someone with an allergy severe enough to use it.

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

Eddie can't stop looking at Steve's parents, his gaze moving between the two as he tries to figure out how the fuck they ended up together. He feels like someone is about to jump out and tell him he's on a prank show. What else could describe the sheer polar opposite natures of Steve's parents?

Debbie looks exactly like the kind of woman who'd live in a Barbie Dream House: blonde, perfect makeup, pastel dress, the refined air that just hovers around her. Fester, however, looks like he belongs next door. Eddie had noticed how pale he was the first time they met, but he's positively corpse-like now that Steve and Debbie are around for comparison.

He'd almost believe Steve wasn't their child if not for the fact that Eddie can see every way he is. Steve might look like Debbie on the outside, but he's undoubtedly an Addams on the inside. He has Debbie's fashion sense and air of elegance. his eyes get the same crazed light sometimes that Fester's do when Debbie speaks, and the words they speak are similar.

"Eddie," Debbie says, snapping him out of his thoughts. At some point, he'd started staring at Steve, and he feels his cheeks flush at getting caught. "Steve tells me you play guitar. Did you recently learn?"

Oh. Eddie feels his shoulders relax some at the familiar topic. "My mom taught me when I was younger. She used to play for me whenever I had nightmares."

"She doesn't play for you anymore?" Debbie asks, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork.

"Oh, uh, she died a few years ago," Eddie says, smiling apologetically for such a downer of a topic. "Cancer, you know."

"That must have been excruciating," Steve says, a soft sigh accompanying his words, and Eddie isn't sure if he's sympathetic or jealous.

Debbie nods as she inspects her chicken closely before putting it in her mouth, her eyes narrowing slightly as she chews. "I said no poisoning the food, dear," she says, looking at Fester with a somewhat strained smile.

"Aww, it's just a nightshade reduction, Mother. We didn't even put any on Eddie's plate," Steve says.

Now that Eddie is actually paying attention, he realizes the dark sauce drizzled across their chicken is missing from his own. "Why don't I have any?" he asks, figuring it can't really be a nightshade sauce.

"You haven't worked your way up to nightshade yet," Fester explains, his eyes lighting up as he adds, "But don't worry! We're getting you started with just a dash of chalk in your rice."

Eddie blinks, glancing down at the half-eaten rice on his plate. He didn't notice anything weird about it, so maybe they're joking. But then he hears Debbie's put-upon sigh. "Fester, dear?"

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"I'd make you sleep in the doghouse, but you'd just enjoy it."

"Eddie doesn't mind, I'm sure," Steve says, looking at Eddie with a smile that makes his heart speed up and his palms sweat. "It's okay if you do, though. Just be honest."

"I don't mind," Eddie replies, wondering where the words come from. If he'd been anywhere else, with anyone else, he'd definitely be losing his mind over a light poisoning. Somehow, though, he can't bring himself to be that upset about it. Maybe, if he tries hard enough, he'll even build enough of an immunity to kiss Steve when he's wearing that raspberry lip gloss.

The blinding smile he gets in return eases any lingering doubts he might have. Steve leans close enough for their shoulders to brush, Eddie's skin tingling through the fabric of his sleeve. "We Addams are experts at acclimating people to poisons. You'll be enjoying nightshade in no time," he says, his voice light and reassuring like Eddie was somehow impatient.

And then, without thinking, Eddie's eyes glance down at Steve's lips. They have a suspicious sheen to them, and Eddie's only half-certain he's not imagining the artificial raspberry scent. "What, uh, what about raspberries?" he asks, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

If anything, Steve's smile just gets wider. "I'm sure we can figure something out," he replies, his tongue briefly swiping across his bottom lip.

Eddie looks away and grabs his glass, gulping down half the water inside before he says anything monumentally stupid in front of Steve's parents.

"Steve, stop torturing Eddie. You know that's dessert conversation," Debbie says, her voice light and breezy.

Steve sighs and pulls away. "Sorry," he says, not looking the least bit apologetic at all. In fact, he even glances at Eddie again and smiles, eyebrows raised slightly, and Eddie thinks he's about to die of thirst.

"Eddie," Fester says, mercifully giving him a reason to look away from Steve and try to gain some semblance of chill. "What are your interests?" Fester glances at Debbie, practically preening when she smiles and offers him a subtle, approving nod.

"Well, uh, music. I like heavy metal and play in a band. Dungeons and Dragons, too. I play that with my friends."

"Dungeons, you say?" Fester asks, suddenly looking more invested in the conversation. "What's your favorite kind? I'm partial to the French Revolution era dungeons myself."

"You just like the guillotines, Father," Steve says.

"Now that's an instrument of death. Nothing inspires fear like the glint of the blade in the sun, don't you think, Pumpkin?"

"Yes, dear, but you know I'm partial to electric chairs myself."

Steve leans closer again and says, "Mother nearly killed Father's family with electric chairs, you know."

"A splendid attempt it was," Fester adds, looking over with a bright smile.

Eddie glances between all of them, taking in their expressions and trying to figure out if they're being serious. He watches Debbie drag a carrot through dark sauce on her plate; he briefly looks into Fester's eyes and sees the manic joy lying in them; his heart speeds up at Steve's soft and contented smile. Eddie then glances around the dining room. He notes the shotgun placed on the wall with a little plaque beneath that reads "Attempt 12" in flourishing cursive. He looks at the window and sees the black, molded wood of the house next door. He thinks of Nox the spider and Kas the taxidermy rat and the ornate dagger and everything else he's found in his locker.

And he realizes something.

They're serious. They're all completely serious about everything. Steve and Fester weren't joking that first time he came over and they talked about the oven being big enough to fit him and a roast. Steve really has fought all of his siblings and was gifted a trident at his bar mitzvah. Pubert doesn't protect his kidneys.

Okay that last one maybe isn't as important, but it's one Eddie savors nonetheless.

He has two options here. One, he gets the hell out of dodge, makes some strained excuse to leave after dinner and avoids Steve in the hallways and hopes he doesn't wake up buried alive. Two, he embraces it, starts eating a little chalk with every meal, and lets Steve introduce him to whatever freaky shit will earn him another blinding smile.

"So, how did you two meet?" Eddie asks, looking at Fester and Debbie with a smile as he shovels more rice onto his fork.

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

"I approve."

Steve blinks, and then his mother's words process, and he stands a little straighter. "That's good. Though, I would've been happy to follow in Romeo and Juliet's footsteps if you hadn't."

"You wouldn't even need poison," Fester says, his voice ringing from the kitchen as Steve helps his mother gather up dessert plates. "Just wear the raspberry stuff."

"No star-crossed suicides for you, mister," Debbie says, playfully tapping her finger against Steve's forehead. "Anyway, he's a very nice young man, and he adapted rather quick, don't you think?"

"He thought it was a joke before, but he doesn't think that now. And he didn't run away screaming!"

"Not that you would've minded, I suspect."

"Well, no," Steve agrees, flashing a grin as he puts the plates on the counter next to his father. He then pulls down Tupperware, ready to pack up the leftover chicken and rice.

"He seems like a tough nut to crack, but he's nearly there," Debbie says, leaning against the island with a thoughtful look. "I mean, he seemed ready to do whatever you said at the dinner table."

"Then why hasn't he done anything? Am I being too obvious? Should I play hot and cold?"

"No, I don't think that would work here."

"Just tell him," Fester suddenly says, looking at Steve as he washes a plate. "Wouldn't that be best?"

"Would it?" Steve asks.

Before Debbie can do more than snort derisively, Fester nods. "Just think about it, son. You tell him, but leave it all up to Eddie after that. He'll torture himself trying to build up the courage to even hold your hand, especially if you catch him when he's midway."

Steve can't help the way he lights up at the thought. "That's a great idea! Thanks, Father. I'm gonna go plan my confession right now," he says, disappearing from the kitchen not a moment later.

"When did you get so good at this?" Debbie asks, a little pride tinging her words. When Fester lights up, she decides to reward him that night with an extra ten minutes of cuddling before bed.

----------

Tag List (there's no more room on the list, so please follow the addams family b-side tag to see updates!)

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And now, some memes:

[reiderwriter]

Hey lovely! Hope you’re doing good! I was listening to bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo and thought it would be a good idea for a Spencer fic, was thinking something something with a little angst, smut and possibly a fluffy ending! ♥️

Ps love your writing 🖤

A/N: Most relatable song released this year, if we're being totally honest with ourselves, right 💀 I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: (Munch Spencer Truthers, I'm throwing yourself another bone here), Oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), slight hand job at the end, penetrative sex, cum play, etc. Minors DNI 18+

Your fling with Spencer Reid from the BAU ended abruptly when he fell off the face of the earth.

You weren't sure how someone who had described himself as technophobic had managed to perfect the art of ghosting someone, but boy had he, and you were still a little bit angry about it.

Even angrier when you saw him plastered over the local news out on a case, explaining to the people how fake tips to the FBI hindered cases more than helped them.

You were angry because he looked so good. His hair was shorter, displaying his all too pretty features prominently, and pissing you off to no end as you still felt your heart beat out of your chest until he'd disappeared into a crime scene again.

You brushed it off and berated yourself until the text came.

It wasn't much, just a quick hello, but you waited for a few minutes anyway to see if he'd say anything else.

When he didn't, you grew frustrated and text him a response.

“Who is this?”

It was petty, but four months of radio silence deserved less, in all honesty.

You weren't expecting the phone to vibrate out of your hand as you waited for a response, but it lit up with his call and you scrambled to wait enough time to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It's Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, from the Behavioural Analysis Unit, this is Y/N right?”

“Yes, Spencer, it's me. My number didn't change after four months.”

“Okay, that was deserved.”

“Why are you calling Spencer?”

“Because I'm a burnt out child prodigy who didn't cure schizophrenia by age 25 and my friends missed my birthday. And because I really wanted to see you.”

The line went quiet as you contemplated what the hell you would say to that.

“It would be stupid to ask if you remembered my address, right?”

“Y/N, I remember what you taste like, and I'll never forget it.”

“Good. I'm locking the door in half an hour.” You didn't give him time to respond before exiting the call and running to your bathroom.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea entertaining a fling from months ago on a whim at 7pm on a Wednesday evening, but you had nothing else to be doing with your time.

It wasn't illegal for people to reconnect, and you were not going to mention this to any close or mutual friends of yours, so one conversation (or whatever this was) probably wouldn't have any consequences anyway.

Caution blown to the wind, you replaced your work clothes with a comfortable dress, fixed your hair and poured a glass of wine and waited.

As if on queue, 27 minutes later, Spencer was at your door. Or more accurately in your house.

Your threat to lock the doors had obviously spurred him on, and you heard the door handle twist as he stepped into the space.

“Spencer. How lovely, to what do I owe the honor?”

The adrenaline of making sure the door was unlocked had obviously worn off for him, as you saw him shift awkwardly in the doorway of your living room, sat comfortably on your couch, your skirt just riding high enough to distract.

“I was thinking. Well, I suppose the correct term would be overthinking. Emily had to snap me out of it, because I was kicking myself and doubting myself and worrying so much that we almost lost the unsub…”

“What I’m trying to say is I’ve regretted not doing too many things to think coming to beg you to kiss me again is a bad idea. It’s not a bad idea, right?”

“That depends, Spencer.” You replied, setting your glass of wine down and standing up. You took a wobbly step towards him, eager to blame your hesitancy on the wine rather than the things his gaze, his words and his simple presence was doing to your body.

“On if you only want a kiss.” Your hand gingerly slipped up his chest until it was hooked into his hair, exploring the shorter locks as he grabbed you by the waist.

“Or if you aren't satisfied with just that.”

“I can't seem to come up with an answer. Perhaps you should kiss me and it'll jog my memory.”

You finally cracked a smile, and saw his face instantly bloom into ot as well.

“Nu-uh Spencer. I think you have to take that chance this time.”

He hesitated only a second before his hands were cradling your face, tipping your chin up to him as he bent to kiss you. You immediately responded, letting your hands grab fistfuls of his shirt as you pulled each other closer.

It sent you off balance, but you let yourself follow the motion of you tipping backwards, letting him catch you as you began moving in the direction of your bed.

“Not a bad idea,” he mumbled between deep kisses, letting loose a stray moan when your hands trailed down to his belt and below. “Definitely not a bad idea.”

Somehow in the clash of lips and hands, you managed to make it back to your bed, his hands already managing to find themselves under your dress as his lips diverted your attention.

“Four months, Spencer.” You growled the words into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. “Four months without this. I thought I'd go insane.”

You felt him smile as he lifted you, and grinned too as you wrapped your legs around him just as he began climbing onto the bed, softly lowering you down until he was on top of you.

His tongue travelled down your neck, making his way back up towards your ear.

“I did go a bit insane, you know?”

His hands flipped up your skirt as he ground his dick against your crotch, pushing it up further until the bottoms of your breasts were peaking out of the scraps of material as well.

“Let me make it up to you?” It was phrased like a question he didn't care about the answer to, as he pushed off of you and completely rid your body of the material that was hindering it completely.

“That's better.” You swore you heard a sigh of contentment as he held your thighs apart and lowered his head, one kiss at a time, to your neglected pussy.

He hooked a ginger under your panties, and pushed them off to the side, but he'd never been the most patient, and he'd already spread your legs. He'd just work around the impediment, you knew.

And he did, starting with a casual flick of the tongue as he looked up at you from his place at your cunt, smiling at you as he began to feast.

You'd never thought of yourself as a pillow princess before Spencer, enjoying giving love as much as receiving but he gave you the perfect royal treatment, and enjoying it so much it was impossible to deny.

After getting so spoiled, it was a wonder that you even knew how to adapt to life without him, nothing compared to the care and attention he showed you in bed.

Your thoughts blended together as he pressed a finger into you, already sneaked with his spit and your wetness, collected from between his lips and your soaked cunt. His pace was steady, repetitive, and driving you fucking insane.

Never a demanding lover, before you would have simply let him enjoy his time between your legs, enjoying just how much he enjoyed it himself as he lapped up all of your juices.

But four months clean from your addiction to Spencer Reid and you were snapping.

Your hands gripped at his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt than he'd been before, enjoying the muffled moans and the sound of his tongue generously lapping up all you had to offer.

You started humping his mouth, holding his head still as you used him as a tool to get yourself off, finally cumming on his mouth with a shudder and an unfiltered moan.

It would've been embarrassing if it wa anyone else, just how loud you'd been for your ex-boyfriend.

“You taste the same.” He said, wiping the remainders of your cum from his lips as he stroked himself, having loosed his cock from his pants sometime between you moaning like a wanton whore and using his face as a sex toy.

A single glance at him over you pleasuring himself was enough to get you ready for round two.

He had sat up on his knees, head and torso tilted slightly back to give you a better view of his cock being pumped hard and fast.

“Spencer Reid, don't you dare make yourself cum.” You thought the words were joking, light even but even you were shocked by the sheer lust dripping from your throat.

Wrapping your legs around him again, you pulled yourself up into his lap, holding yourself still as you quickly unfastened each of his shirt buttons, pushing it away and chucking it so far that he wouldn't be able to use it to cover up anything else.

It took you a minute more to properly situate yourself, but soon you were sinking down onto his cock and allowing the stretch to rule your mind and movements for a minute.

You gently started riding him, letting each gasp and moan reach your ears and spur you on, not holding back on your side either, telling him just how good it felt to have him in you raw once again.

Your stamina wasn't great though especially after having had one powerful orgasm already, and your movements soon became sloppy.

He kissed you softly on the lips, and you let go of the tension in your body as he pushed you onto your back, made sure you were comfortable, and started beating his cock into you with such a force that you were sure the bed was going to break.

It was this intensity that you craved, this complete change from his insistence on putting you first so to speak, and then using you as a human sexton when it suited him, allowing his cock to push you to your limits and beyond.

It wasn't like you could protest anyway, mouth hanging limply open in a scream of pleasure as sparks shot up your spine.

Entertaining Spencer Reid was never a bad idea. You decided then and there that if he left you again for whatever reason, you'd hunt him to the ends of the earth and beg for another chance at this feeling of pleasure.

You came again, of course, not sure if it was his cock or his exploring hands that was tethering you to the moment as you died a little death.

His own orgasm wasn't far behind your own, but he'd always been a bit messy. You weren't surprised when he gave a small panicked moan, pulling out at the last second as his cum spurted out. You helped him ride it out, wrapping a hand around him to stroke him until his dick was drained, the contents sprayed across your chest and breasts, a single drop even making it to the side of your mouth, but that was quickly lapped up.

His aftercare was almost as good as his foreplay, as he took pains to wash you diligently, even as all you wished to do was sleep well into the night directly after feeling his hot cum pour onto you.

He'd gathered a wash cloth, fresh set of pyjamas and an extra blanket to cocoon you both in before you could even lift a finger, and climbed into bed before you could even think of asking if he was staying the night.

With the satisfaction of multiple orgasms finally catching you, you fell asleep in his arms, a grin plastered on your lips, his hands possessively surrounding you.

Needless to say, when you woke in the morning, he was still there.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 5 - Put it into Speed Drive

Longer chapter this time! The next update probably won't be until Tuesday, and or Wednesday night and then Thursday.

For planning, after 2023 is up, I will not be keeping up with the actual schedule for the races. The chapters will still come in chronological order, but it won't be week by week. This will be the start of the parallel universe.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please comment! And now enjoy the show :)

You were practically buzzing after the suit fitting. It was just one step closer to getting you in the car. Which would happen very soon. Sunday to be exact. Tomorrow. There were just so many words to describe how soon it was. 

You went from no open doors in F1 to a door that was blown to bits and then shredded, leaving a giant hole for you to just walk through. However, your daydreams of blowing doors up were interrupted by the growl of you stomach. You walked through the door of the fitting room and found Vito right where you left him. 

Such a good manager. 

He was talking to someone though, and you really didn’t want to interrupt. But, your stomach was about to commence in the whale mating call song and you really didn’t want anyone to hear that. Your eyes glanced around before they landed on Mitch, who seemed to just be typing on her tablet. 

You quickly walk over and tap her on the shoulder. “Mitch, uh, where would I be able to find some food?” 

She looked up from her tablet with a smile. Dang, did she just smile at everything? 

“I can take you to get some food if you’d like me to?” she responded. You quickly nodded your head. Taking the lead, Mitch started to walk over to the other side of the sim room. How many rooms were connected to this place? You wondered as she opened a door. 

“This room is one of the more private areas, which in return, gets its own side of the building. From here you’re able to reach just about any other place.” Now that was creepy, could she read your mind? 

Your face must have been in a contemplative look as she let out a small laugh. The walk was short as the two of you entered an all-while room. A small cooking bar was to the left while tables and chairs littered the rest of the floor. Your mouth was wide open. 

You told Mitch, “Dams is not this nice.” A pout came from you. 

“Well, now you don’t have to be jealous. You know that you work here now,” she reminded you as she took a tray and began to walk down the bar. You followed her doing and picked up your own tray. Looking up, you gazed over the menu, trying to find something that looked like it would fit in your diet. 

“By the way, everything here is supposed to go hand in hand with a driver’s diet. So pick anything you’d like,” a voice said from behind the counter. A woman with a hairnet smiled as you finally decided on a club sandwich with some chips (the crunchy kind – not French fries). Once you got your food, you walked over to the table next to the window where Mitch was already sitting. 

You quickly remember that you practically left Vito, so you shot him a quick text letting him know where you were. In typical fashion, she just sent a thumbs up emoji. What a dad. 

The two of you ate in silence for a bit, before Mitch spoke up. 

“So kid, tell me a little bit about yourself.” She took a bite of her sandwich. 

You quickly swallowed. “Uh, I’m 20 years old. I’m from a lot of places, didn’t really stay in one place for long. The longest I stayed anywhere was Texas for 5 years (a.n. shameless plug). I’m pretty introverted and don’t normally talk to others first. I have a little apartment in Nice, but now I think I should look for one close to here. I am an only child. And Danny DeVito is my spirit animal.” 

Mitch almost spit out her drink as her shoulders began to shake. That also got you laughing. “What about you?” you questioned back. You were beginning to feel sad because your sandwich was almost gone. 

“Well, I am 35. I have been at Red Bull for two years now. I was an engineer before this and worked on the car. I don’t have any kids.” 

You interrupted her, “Well now you do.” You pointed at yourself before taking a giant slurp of your drink. 

She rolled her eyes before continuing, “I’ve lived in London my whole life. I have a degree in engineering as well. And my favorite season is fall.” 

Small talk continued as you finished your lunch, or almost dinner. As you looked out the window, you saw that the sun was about to begin to set. You hadn’t realized how long everything had taken. A yawn escaped your lips as you and Mitch made your way back to the simulator room. There Vito was waiting for you, looking ready to go. Saying goodbye with a hug, you told Mitch that you’d see her bright and early for the test drive. 

Not wanting to get left behind, you found yourself sticking to Vito as he guided the two of you back down the poster hallway. At least now you were familiar with the turns and twists. Like the past few days, a car was waiting for you outside. Vito slipped into the driver’s seat while you went around and climbed into the passenger side. 

You immediately connected your phone to sound system. You snickered as you chose the song. 

Vito groaned when he heard the opening notes. You could only laugh as the beat started to pick up. 

“Ah-ah Barbie you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind. Jump into the driver seat and put it into speed drive,” you sang, directed at Vito. To hear the base a bit more, you turned the volume up. However, when it came to the next verse, and you were about to start yelling, your phone began to ring. 

Arthur’s contact photo, one of you at his birthday, popped up. You immediately answered the face time and yelled. 

“Dude, you threw off my groove!” His laughs could be heard throughout the car as his face got into the camera range.  

“I’m sorry?” 

“You should be. What’s up?” 

“I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out later tonight? Since I’m here for testing.” You froze and looked at Vito with wide eyes. You quickly pointed your phone towards the roof of the car. 

You mouthed, “What do I do?” You were scared. What were you supposed to say? Oh hey Arthur, I actually signed a multi-year contract with Red Bull two days ago. Sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner? You definitely could not do that. 

Yet, a slight jut of Vito’s head told you that you could tell him the truth. You inhaled sharply. 

“I’m actually not in Paris at the moment.” Arthur paused. . You only hoped that he wouldn’t be mad at you. 

“You’re not? I thought you were going to be sim testing.” 

“I thought so to. And then I might have gotten a text from…” you muttered the last bit. 

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” He put a hand to his ear. 

You huffed before you shouted, clearly overwhelmed. “I got a text from Christian Horner and I’m driving with Red Bull for 2024!” Your shallowed breaths filled the air. Vito’s hand was placed on your knee for comfort. 

“Well, duh. I knew that dummy?” 

“Hello?” you could only get out. Who told him? 

“You do know that even though my brother may not seem to be friends with Max, they actually are. And Max likes to talk, so he told my brother and my brother told me.” Your eyes must have been bulging. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you sighed, “I didn’t know if I could.” 

Arthur responded, “It’s quite alright. It was fun making you panic for a moment.” 

“You’re an ass. First you interrupt my wonderful concert that Vito was enjoying…” 

“I was not,” Vito leaned towards the phone. 

“As I was saying, men the woman is speaking, and then you decide to make me almost spiral into a panic attack. Not nice TurTur.” You wiggled your finger at the screen. 

He smiled, “I’m actually here in London as well. Thought you might want some company. And Vito invited me to see you drive tomorrow. I’m waiting in your room.” He showed you a room that was almost identical to the one you had at the hotel. You squealed at the thought of seeing him. 

It was a good thing that the car had pulled up to the hotel, because you seat belt flew off in record time. You barely were able to get a quick thank you to the workers before you got to the elevator. You’re sure you pressed the buttons too many times, but the damn thing wouldn’t open any quicker. 

The moment the doors open, you bolted inside, but came into contact with a body, that knocked the two of you over. You said a quick apology before darting to the side and getting in the elevator. You barely saw a neon hoodie and some brown curls before the doors closed. 

Pressing hard down on your floor button, you willed the elevator to move quicker. After what felt like forever, the box dinged. You dashed down the carpeted hallway as you took your key card out of your pocket. 

Although you barely swiped it, the lock beeped and let you into the room. 

Arthur was not expecting you to all but tackle him as you dive bombed into his arms. The forced knocked the both of you off the bed. The pile of limbs and bodies that you and your best friend were ended up in a pile on the floor. You could not stop laughing as you held him tighter. 

You needed him, especially after these past stressful days. Remembering what he did earlier, you pulled back and started to hit him. His hands raised up and tried to defend against your much smaller hands. 

“You” -hit- “are” -smack- “an” -whack- “ass Arthur Leclerc.” 

“Ouch woman, you hurt me,” he feigns as he puts a hand on his heart. Your attacks died down as you hauled yourself off the floor. You held out a hand, he took it, and you lifted him as well. But the moment he was upright, you pushed him over on the bed. His giggles left his mouth. Instead of getting up like you thought he would, he snuggled more into your bed. 

You might as well join him. Hiking your leg up, you rolled him over some before slotting yourself in the space next to him. He let out a noise of complaint, even though he basically opened you with opened arms. 

“I’m glad you’re here. It’s been very stressful,” your words were muffled as you put your head on his chest. 

He let out a scoff, “Sure. You’ve been playing around in the top of the line simulator.” 

Whack. 

“Would you stop that?” he questioned as he dug his fingers into your sides. Laughter soon tumbled out of your lips before you could stop them. 

“Arthur, stop it!” You tried to force his hands away. But because of your smaller build, he was able to continue the attacks. 

A knock at the door saved your life. You all but rolled off the bed, out of Arthur’s arms, and walked to the door. However, you flipped Arthur off before your hand reached the knob. On the other side of the door, Vito stood with his phone in his hand. He looked up once the door was all the way opened. 

“Hi Vito. What’s up?” you asked with head cocked to the side.

“You two up for some karaoke?” He looked over your shoulder at Arthur, who was still sprawled on the bed. 

“I’m down for it. Hey Arthur!” you yelled, Vito wincing at the volume. 

Arthur’s head popped up. “Yeah?” 

“Karaoke?”

He smirked. “Hell yeah.” 

A couple of hours later, you found yourself with Arthur in a karaoke room. Vito had been blacked out for a while on the couch. 

“COUNTRY ROAD, TAKE ME HOME, TO A PLACE, WHERE I BELONG!” Arthur sang into the very cheap looking microphone. 

You continued, sounding as equally bad, “WEST VIRGINA, MOUTAIN MOMMA, COUNTRY ROAD, TAKE ME HoOOoooOOOmE!” 

The song ended and you and Arthur took a mock bow. 

Arthur chanted, “Next song, next song, next song.” Yeah, he was definitely gone. 

“Since you ruined this earlier, I’m picking this one.” You clicked on a button. The familiar beats from earlier that day filled the small room. Arthur groaned from beside you. “Nuh-uh. This is your faut, and now you have to pay the price.” 

Half-heartedly, Arthur began to sing, “She my best friend in the whole world.” He pointed at you while singing the lyrics. You placed your hands on your chest and mocked a sincere look. He only shoved your head away and continued. 

You decided that standing on the table was a good place to sing the chorus, “AH AH BARBIE YOU’RE SO FINE, YOU’RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY MIND” 

Arthur finally got into it, “JUMP INTO THE DRIVERS SEAT AND PUT IT INTO SPEED DRive…” the music was suddenly shut off. 

An angry looking worker walked in and told you to get off the table and to leave for the night. You sheepishly got down, walked over to Vito with Arthur, woke him up, and you three were on your way. 

The two of you looked like kids who had to be taken home after getting in trouble with the principal at the school. However, that wouldn’t stop the snickers and giggles that soon filled the whole car, Vito included. 

You were glad that it wasn’t too late. The next morning would be terrible if you didn’t have a good night’s sleep. 

Arthur made sure to get what time everyone was leaving before retiring to his room for the night. You made sure to post some things on your Instagram story before heading to bed. 

You were surprised you had gotten some sleep, because when you woke up, you couldn’t stop shaking. Not know if it was from excitement or nervousness, you got ready quickly. There was a fruit bowl in your room. For breakfast, you indulged in a banana and an orange. Vito probably arranged for a bigger breakfast to be served at the practice track. 

You met up with Arthur and Vito in the lobby. You nudged him as you walked passed. 

“You ready?” he asked as he followed you to the car that was waiting under the walkway. 

“As I’ll every be.” There was a slight hitch in your tone that told Arthur everything he needed to know. 

After the two of you climbed into the back seats, and Vito in the passenger seat, Arthur put his arm around you. Just the feeling of his company helped to ease the anxiety that was bubbling inside you. It seemed to grow with each corner that got you closer and closer to the track. 

There would be quite a few people there today, more than you would like. But each person was necessary. The track was farther and out of the city. 

You knew that Mitch would have your suit and helmet ready for you once you got there. You would be debrief on the track and how the car should behave. You would be doing a mock race, but it would still be shorter than most races – about 50 laps or so. 

Your goal that you had gone over with Mitch would be to set one of the fastest test laps. Your time to beat was 1 minute and 19.721 seconds. You thumbs-upped the message and said that you’d try your best. 

The car slowed down as it approached the entrance. And before you knew it, you were in your suit and balaclava as Mitch talked with you once more before you started getting in the car. It was one of the newer cars, the RB 17. 

You saw Christian approach and you checked over a few more things. 

“You like the car?” he asked, nodding his head over to the machine behind him. 

“I love it. Can’t wait to see how she drives. Was she driven for any races?” You were curious and wanted to know. 

He smirked. “That is Max’s championship car.” Your hands froze, holding your zipper. You looked up at Christian, eyes wide. You gulped. 

“Aha, very funny.” 

“I’m not joking.” His face was deadpanned. 

“Well, I will try to be careful with it.” He only laughed and put a hand on your shoulder. 

“You just drive the car like you normally do. The sim showed me everything I need to know.” With that, he walked closer to the wall and put a on a set of headphone.

“No pressure Y/n,” you told yourself. Breathing in and out, you put your helmet on. Arthur decided to walk up and clip the two straps for you, something he often did before your races. You both did your little handshake before he patted you shoulder. He was also given some headphones, along with Vito. They were all counting on you. 

You stepped closer to the car. Lifting your leg, you swung it over, then the other. You shimmied down into the car and connected the things that needed to be connected. The men around you started to lower the car and take off the different machinery. You would start the track on medium tires. You were told that after the first half, you could switch to the softs if you think you needed to. 

The final parts of the car were put on and you were handed the steering wheel. You carefully placed the connect parts together as you felt the car turned on. You could feel it almost breathing. It was alive. 

You were able to taxi the car out onto the mock grid. 

“Alright Y/n, radio check,” Mitch’s voice came on through your helmet. 

“If I can have a walk up song for Vegas, I heard a rumor that that was coming back, and if I get introduced, can it be Life is a Highway? Please?” 

“Radio is working,” Mitch responded. 

“Please Mitch?” you prodded. You heard a sigh as you smiled. 

“We can discuss later. I will ask Christian.” You did a small pump of your hands before getting back into the zone. From where you were, you had a good view of the lights. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Speed. I am speed. 

Red. Red. Red. 

Green. 

Your feet hit the pedals and off you went for the “warming up” lap. The track had a good mix of straights and turns to warm up the tires. 

The first few laps after went smoothly. But, you knew it wasn’t time for your flying lap. To keep it fair, the past drivers only had one lap to set a time. 

You pressed the button for the radio, “There seems to be some unbalance on Turn 5. I don’t know if it’s the track or the car.” Your voice sounded rattly. 

“Checking,” Mitch responded back at the “pit lane.” 

Christian piped up from her right, “Max has said that before about that exact turn. It’s uncanny.” 

“Ok kid, it seems like it might be an issue with the track. Try to avoid it by slowing down to go wide, but accelerate going out of the apex.” 

“Roger,” you responded. On the next lap, you did exactly that. And you were pleased to see that it actually worked. 

“Balance of the car is good.” 

“Thank you Y/n.” 

“Can I come in for softs? I want to try the flying lap.” 

“Ok, box for softs.” 

You pulled your car into the pit lane. It wasn’t the fastest pit stop you’ve had, but it really didn’t matter. You did a few laps on the softs. Although you knew the track would eat them up, you also knew that you did your best laps on slightly used softs. 

Christian spoke up again, “She knows that softs run out quickly. She should have done the flying lap on the first one.” 

Now, Arthur talked first, “She does all of her best laps on slightly used softs. It’s how she’s won so many races. Because Y/n knows her tires better than anyone.” Christian hummed as he watched your dot go around the animated track. 

The radio beeped as a message came from your car, “I’m gonna go for it. Starting the flying lap.” 

Mitch responded, “Copy.” The team waited with baited breath and you seemed to glide around the turns. 

You were truly one with whatever car you drove. 

The clocked seemed to tick in slow motion as you finally came to the last straight. Once you passed the line, you slowed down just a bit. 

“Ok Mitch, how did I do?” you asked. 

She breathed before responding, “One minute, nineteen point 7 seconds. Congratulations kid, you have broken our current record. Your cheers could be heard over the radio. They mixed with the team’s own cheering as well. You were just .021 seconds faster than whoever held the previous record. And you did it in a two, almost, three year old car. 

“Who used to hold the position?” 

This time, Christian’s voice came on over the radio, “It was Max, kid.” 

You let out a laugh of disbelief, before realizing that Christian was on the radio. 

“Christian, can my walk up song for Vegas be Life is a Highway. Please.” You waited for his answer. 

“Sure kid.” 

“Yes! Best day ever! Can I got another lap? I want to put this baby into speed drive. Vito! Arthur!”

“On it kid.” 

“Got it Y/n!” 

You guessed one of them held their phones to the radio. This time you would hear the entire song. You knew it. You shimmied back down into the seat and floored the throttle. 

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko

[salem-witch-slut]

Of Bartenders and Bodyguards

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader x Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: After a disaster goes down at the bar the night before Thanksgiving, Abby and Ellie come to your rescue and the two quickly become all you can think about.

WARNINGS: Offensive words used (such as dyke, rape), mentions of sexual assault, alcohol, Ellie typical violence, polyamory, reader described as femme

WORD COUNT: 4.8K

A/N: You guys have been waiting for this one to come back. So here's this, and I'm currently working on a part 2, so look out for that!

Dividers made by @cafekitsune

The night started out as any other night.

Prep for service, make ordered drinks, clean up after, check IDs to make sure the bouncer at the door didn’t overlook anything, and stay vigilant in order to not let anything bad happen in the club. After doing this for 3 years, you could say she was a bit of an expert on spotting bullshit and diffusing chaos. She’s seen it all and dealt with it all.

“Ready for tonight?” The auburn-haired bartender glanced up from the countertop, pausing her knife strokes in cutting up various fruits she knew that she would need for the many cocktails she would make that evening. Leaning on the freshly wiped down countertop, the tall and muscular blonde woman wearing that freshly ironed button-up black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up just under her elbows and the matching black dress pants. Her hair was pulled back in that same braid she almost always had, and those black fingerless gloves that the bartender had a massive thing for all the time.

“Psssh,” The bartender smirked, handing the headset over from under the countertop and watching the blonde hook it up to her ear. “I’m a professional, always.”

“Try not to threaten anyone tonight, Ellie?”

“I’m good, Abby. 100 percent. The gun will stay under the counter, I promise.”

Abby smirked before she watched Ellie offer her a glass from under the countertop. Before Abby could accept it, she raised a brow and smelled the liquid in the glass. “Just seltzer, right?”

“Dude, I’m not trying to get fuckin’ fired tonight,” Ellie began placing several bottles underneath the bar and folded up some of the towels under the counter, lining the edge of her station. She looked at the clock and saw it was 8:47 PM. Only a little while longer until the doors opened up.

Abby quickly downed said seltzer and left the glass on the countertop, giving Ellie a small wink before she took her own place at the front of the club to watch everything that was going on. All of the workers were bustling around to get ready for tonight’s service. It was bound to be insane; it was something that the service industry called Black Wednesday. An influx of out-of-towners would be flooding inside the day before Thanksgiving and the max capacity would be reached in a matter of an hour.

When the clock struck 9, patrons began to flood in almost uncontrollably. Abby was her usual broody self, standing in the corner, prepared to throw someone out in a moment’s notice, watching over everything like some gargoyle on the rooftop of a chapel.

Her arms were crossed, accentuating those gorgeous muscles in that shirt as the hours carried on until almost midnight. She had thrown out several individuals so far, and Ellie had been true to her word; the pistol under the counter for emergencies had stayed strapped to the wood, the safety on, but preloaded and ready to use just in case. Hopefully it wouldn’t be like it was on Halloween when Ellie genuinely had to threaten someone before they jumped over the counter.

The night had been going smoothly so far… So far.

The next flood of customers came in, and Abby had seen many individuals enter the bar that night… she’s seen so many girls come in, wearing the shortest skirts and the tightest dresses known to mankind, and she didn’t ever bat an eye… Until she saw you.

When you entered the club, her heart skipped and she openly gaped. She had never seen anybody quite like you before… A wine-colored blouse with off-shoulder bell sleeves down to your wrists, and a white pleated skirt that was short enough to cover your rear but leave almost all of your thigh on display. And somehow, you found red heels the same shade as your shirt, which anyone knew was nearly impossible. There was a gilded hairclip in your locks in the shape of a rose, the edges golden and shiny, and there was a butterfly tattoo on the back of your neck.

Abby’s never faltered before… well, maybe when she met Ellie for the first time during her training? But beyond that, she’s never been speechless before. There was only one problem, though… That man with his arm wrapped around your waist, skimming dangerously close to your ass. Every few seconds, you would force his hand back up, but he would continue to push the envelope, pissing him off by the millisecond.

When you two sat down at the bar, the man snapped his fingers in Ellie’s direction as she spoke to another patron. At hearing the sound of fingers snapping over the booming music, followed up by a whistle, she openly rolled her eyes at the man who dare interrupt her.

“I’ll be right with you,” She snapped, accepting the $100 that the other patron gave her. She folded up the bill, stuffed it into her apron pocket before standing in front of the arrogant man, and then she looked at you. Her cheeks went pink, and she had to grab at her shirt for a second to calm herself down.

You were gorgeous… But you looked embarrassed. Was it because the man called Ellie over like she was a fucking dog?

“What can I get you two?” She spoke mostly to you, watching as your eyes lit up and you smiled warmly. It made her feel fuzzy inside for a second and she almost jumped out of her skin at hearing Abby’s voice inside of her headset.

“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” The blonde smirked, forcing Ellie to look up for a second. She resisted the urge to flip Abby off and waited patiently for the order.

“Two margaritas,” The man spoke quickly, and without even looking in your direction. You had this face of disdain and before you could speak out, he hushed you. “You’ll love it, I promise. Best thing this place has to offer.”

“Actually,” Ellie butted in. “All of our drinks are good, so she doesn’t need to get—”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” The man barked, his unkempt brows creasing with aggression. Ellie didn’t even flinch but looked disgusted as she turned to look at you, seeing the poor puppy-dog eyes from you and all of her anger began to melt away at how guilty you acted. Of course, the bastard man wasn’t done insulting her yet. “Just do your job, dyke.”

“Michael!” You shouted, your voice almost piercing the air as you bristled with this uncomfortable air around you. He barely even looked at you as Ellie leaned on the counter for a second, licking at her lips and giving a soft little click to the underside of her teeth before walking off and doing what he asked for.

“C’mon baby, she was askin’ for that,” The man, Michael, reached out and gently grabbed at your chin. Even from where she was standing, Abby could see you were uncomfortable. And when Ellie returned with the drinks, Michael reached down once again and this time, grabbed a handful of your ass. Abby’s fist curled into the fabric of her shirt, and she seethed with anger at how you reacted. It would be different if you liked what he did, but you looked disgusted.

Very carefully, you grabbed at the drink in front of you and gave a little sip before immediately putting it down. It was clear that you didn’t like it but couldn’t speak out because of the death grip this asshole had on you. His hand was now on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt, and you looked absolutely frozen in fear, like a deer in headlights.

It wasn’t until everyone was distracted that Abby saw something that had her moving almost instantly in your direction. One of the servers dropped a glass on the ground and the sound had everyone, including you, looking in that direction. And in that split second moment, your so-called date slipped something into your drink.

The packet of white powder was dumped in the liquid and fizzed before dissolving almost immediately.  When you went back to the drink to try it again, a hand closed around the glass, making you look up in surprise. Abby took the glass from your hands, putting it on the counter and leaning down to speak so you didn’t need to strain to hear her.

“Don’t drink that, sweetheart.”

Abby felt you shiver as she gently released your wrist, looking at the man next to you who was glaring at her, fire burning in his eyes. Before he could say a single thing, Abby got Ellie’s attention as she was in the middle of handing off a scotch to another customer.

“Ellie, call the police,” Abby said without hesitation, making you immediately fear for the worst. The drink in front of you looked unsuspecting, and then Abby watched you slowly dip your pinky finger into the alcoholic beverage. Everybody watched as your blue nail polish turned purple and your entire face twisted in abstract rage.

“You tried to…” Michael stood out of his seat, almost like he was going to run away. Your voice faltered as you looked at Ellie, and then to Abby, your heart twisting uncomfortably in your chest. Almost like an instinct, your fists curled into the fabric of your dress. “Why?”

“Come on baby,” Michael smirked. “You been playin’ hard to get for weeks now. You come out, dressed like that, and think I ain’t fuckin’ tonight?”

His entire demeanor made Abby even more pissed off. She heard Ellie call the police almost immediately after he spoke and very cautiously approached the man. “Sir, you’re gonna want to stay away from her.”

“Don’t even try that shit,” Michael jeered, still grinning like a wolf. “Look at her; she’s askin’ for it.”

Very slowly, you sat back down on your stool and felt a single tear race down your cheek. Michael wasn’t the nicest person, but he never acted like this before… Was tonight just a ploy to get you in bed with him? You had been seeing him for a few weeks now, and every time you gave a small kiss on his cheek before you went back home.

And each time, he acted more and more agitated and short-fused. And now it was making sense why; Michael was pissed you didn’t put out on day one… That’s what you get for using Tinder, huh?

Ellie could see your hands shaking as you went to clutch at your chest, trying not to look at Michael and focus on anything else. Ellie hung up the phone and looked at Abby, simply holding up four fingers and then tapping the inside of her wrist. After working with each other for 3 years, they knew how to communicate basic things without needing words. The cops would be there in four minutes, and she told Abby to restrain him.

“You need to back off, now,” Abby said, calmly and collectively. Michael was on the opposite end of the spectrum and began screaming immediately.

“Don’t fucking talk to me, bitch! I’m not goin’ anywhere,” He got closer and closer to Abby and you began to get back off the stool, backing away and nearly stepping into another patron in the process. Michael noticed this, and he went to reach for your arm… and then, all hell broke loose.

Abby reacted first. Her veined hand wrapped around Michael’s wrist and she pulled his entire arm over his head, grabbing the back of his shirt and slamming his face down onto the counter. Ellie watched as the man struggled, kicking at Abby’s shins to try and get her to let go. The sound of a gun cocking had Michael finally going still and he looked up, staring down the barrel of a pistol in Ellie’s hand.

“Think again, motherfucker,” Ellie hissed, her tattooed arm flexing as she held the gun to his face. The safety was still on, but she wouldn’t hesitate to fire a clip directly into his skull if necessary. The look of terror on your face spoke volumes as you wrapped both arms around your body and began to slowly sink down onto the floor. Tears flowed freely and you curled in on yourself… It was truly a heartbreaking sight to see.

When the cops finally showed up, Abby all but tossed Michael in their direction, watching the man get shoved in the back of a police car. And unfortunately, because of this kind of incident, the bar had to be shut down. Police were swarming all over the place, and the owner decided the best course of action was to close the doors for the night. It would kill his revenue, but it was better than people being scared away by the police.

Abby was the first to give her statement to the cops, and then Ellie, and finally, you.

You had mostly been in shock the entire time, sitting on an outside seat as the officer questioned you. He asked you if this kind of thing had happened before, to which you responded no, but gave him the details about how Michael got more and more aggressive with each date you two went on.

As you sat there, with your face in your hands, you could hear the cops talking as they ran a screening on Michael… “Fake ID. Mitchell Loomis, arrested for aggravated and sexual assault… was released on parole last month.”

And then suddenly, you felt like the biggest idiot in the world. You willingly went out with a criminal. And not just any kind of criminal; no, you were dating a rapist! And had it not been for Abby and Ellie, you would have probably been next! You looked up at the two women who acted like your guardian angels that night, and you immediately started crying again.

Your sobs were so quiet that no one could hear you. Ellie was too busy beating herself up, looking down at her shoes and grumbling in anger. “Fuck, they were sitting right in front of me. How did I not see it?”

Abby frowned, putting a hand on her shoulder. “El, it’s the busiest damn night of the year. One person can’t see everything… that’s why I’m there to watch your back, yeah?”

“I know,” Ellie sighed, rubbing at her forehead and flinching at the cold air ruffling up her short auburn locks. The November air was especially brutal tonight, and Ellie suddenly got worried about you. Considering what you had been wearing, you must have been freezing. She looked over and saw you curled forward in the chair, your entire face buried into your thighs as your tears stained the fabric of your skirt. “Shit, poor thing…”

“Come on,” Abby tugged on Ellie’s sleeve before they both approached you. When Ellie reached down to gently place a hand on your shoulder, you shot back up, eyes wide and bloodshot with fear before you relaxed, seeing their faces.

“Easy, easy…” Abby knelt down in front of you, reaching her hand out and gently placing the warm skin against your cheek. You immediately grabbed at her wrist and pushed your face into her palm, tears staining her knuckles as your makeup smeared. Even with your runny mascara and lipstick stains on your face, you still looked beautiful even in this moment. “You’re okay… you’re fine, it’s alright.”

“I feel… so stupid…” You said through hiccups, tears tracking down your cheeks. You stared into Abby’s gunmetal blue irises, trying to find a reason to calm down. It felt like someone was squeezing her heart, you looked so shattered. “H-how could I… n-not see this coming?”

“It’s okay,” Ellie sat on the table next to you, reaching out and gently tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before she softly caressed your jaw. The action was comforting, even if her hands had rough callouses on them. “It could’ve happened to anybody, you know… I’m actually impressed you have that nail polish. That’s ingenious, actually.”

The color had gone back to blue in the time you had been sitting down and you looked at your semi-short nails. Ever since you began your Tinder escapade, you had purchased the special nail polish, just in case something bad happened. You wore it all the time, and it was a plus that it was a pretty color too, so no one expected a thing… And now, you just wanted to take it off. You had done it to every single drink before tonight, but not this time… why not this time?

Very slowly, Ellie was removing her jacket and draped it over your shoulders in order to try and keep you warm. The shivers began to slowly subside, and you pushed your face into the tough leather, inhaling the scent that rolled off of it. You could smell rustic like cologne, and something that reminded you of your dad in a weird way, and you instantly felt better.

Abby noticed how you were pushing your whole face in Ellie’s jacket, and she elbowed the bartender when she smirked at the blonde. Suddenly, it felt like a competition to see who could comfort you more and you calmed down in seconds with how sweet and doting they were both acting. Ellie had gotten you a bottle of water and Abby was holding your hands the entire time to try and keep you focused on anything else but what happened to you that night.

When the minutes carried on, the night got later and later… Until you looked down and saw what time it was on Abby’s watch, you had been fine. And then, you jumped up from the chair, making Ellie nearly fall off the table she was perched on. You reached down and grabbed Abby’s wrist, her cheeks turning a soft pink at your grip. “Ohmygod, is that the time?!”

You pulled out your phone and began to aggressively type something into your phone. “Oh fuck, finding a damn Uber is gonna be like… $50 right now? Are you kidding me?” The emotions crossing your face were wild, making Ellie and Abby worry at the same time. Both of them stood up as you began pacing like mad, hair whipping in the wind and the cold having you shivering again.

Just as Abby glanced down, seeing your knees wobble, her face got even redder as a certain gust of wind lifted your skirt, but you were far too frantic to notice. Wow, even your panties were white, how cute!

“If you want,” Ellie stepped forward, holding her hands in front of her and gently tugging on her fingers with a certain sad look that made your heart ache. “I uhm… I could take you home?”

“El, after what happened tonight—”

“Just straight to your home,” Ellie defended herself against Abby’s words. Your face turned a deep red as you looked at the price of the Uber on your phone, and then back up to Ellie… The woman who had threatened your date with a weapon for you… Could she be trusted? “I promise you’ll get there safe.”

After many minutes of being worried, you decided that getting into the bartender’s car was somehow safer than getting into a complete stranger’s car. And yes, Ellie was a stranger, but… If you tried to rationalize any harder, you would get a headache. “Okay. Yeah, sure, I would really appreciate that, miss.”

Ellie pulled her keys out of her pocket and looked at Abby once again, watching her roll her eyes. She put a hand in her pocket and fiddled with the lighter inside of her pants, attempting to calm herself down when she watched Ellie wrap an arm around your shoulders and lead you towards her 1989 K5 Blazer. The deep blue color and shiny exterior made you slightly nervous.

The gorgeous bartender opened the door for you, giving a soft smile before she noticed that you looked uncomfortable. Ellie immediately frowned. “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”

“I…” You hesitated. It wasn’t that you were nervous about her being in the car with you. No, it was something else. “I feel like I’ll degrade the value of your car if I get in…”

Ellie chuckled slightly before she watched you slide into the passenger seat and slowly closed the door behind you. The car smelled so clean, like leather polish and an air freshener. Your stomach twisted a little in you as Ellie quickly joined on your left side, kicking the car into gear and heading down the road.

“You’ll have to guide me there, sweetheart,” Ellie smiled, turning the heat on to a comfortable level and keeping both hands on the steering wheel. “You can turn on the radio if you want, I don’t mind.”

“I’m okay,” You mumbled, leaning back into your seat and pushing your face into the side of Ellie’s jacket. It kept you so warm, and it smelled so nice… You wish you knew more about its owner. You had climbed inside of this car, and you didn’t even know this bartender’s name. Your face turned a soft shade of pink as you looked over at the woman driving, and you felt your heart skip like rocks on a river.

She was beautiful… Absolutely breathtaking. The soft curve of her nose, those intense green eyes, the freckles that dappled her cheeks and forehead, the various tiny scars littering her skin, and the intense scar over her eyebrow; the shade of her hair tied back in that half up, half down fashion, the sharpness of her jawline, the slight pout of her top lip…

If you had met her before tonight… someone would need to drag you out of the bar kicking and screaming to get you to leave her alone. And then, your thoughts wandered to the blonde bouncer that spotted what happened in the first place. What was her name?

That woman was… wow. You remembered how her brows creased when she first approached you. The warmth of her veined, massive hand that closed around your wrist. You could feel her strength without it even being shown, as she was so gentle and caring with you even though her job was to be the enforcer. The caress of said hand against your cheek in the cold weather outside, how she smiled when you two talked so casually, the way her bottom lip snagged under her teeth when she bit it to try and hold back a giggle… Fuck, they were both hot!

Before you knew it, Ellie was pulling up to your apartment building. You frowned for a second and glanced over at her before reaching into the top of your dress to pull out a collection of bills that you prepared for tonight. There was about $150 stashed away inside your bra and Ellie did not miss you removing it either. She blushed a deep crimson and bit down on her lip as you flipped through the bills and attempted to hand her a $20. “That should cover the gas to get me here, right?”

Ellie gave a breathy chuckle, smiling and closing her eyes for a brief second. The sound of her deep, grumbly laugh had you squirming in your seat. “Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Knowing you are home, safe and sound is payment enough for me.”

And just like that, you were back to turning red. You bit down on your bottom lip and tucked the money back into your bra, inhaling deeply and going to step out of the car before Ellie was ripping off her seatbelt and nearly jumping over the jeep’s hood to get to your door in time. She opened it up and offered her hand for you, which you accepted without question this time around.

“Allow me, miss,” She smirked, winking at you as she walked you inside of the building and towards your door on the third floor. As soon as you reached the apartment door, you fumbled with your keys for a brief second before turning around and looking at Ellie who tucked both hands into her pocket.

Honestly, you expected for things to go south… after the night you had, it would make perfect sense for shit to go wrong right now, right? But Ellie was true to her word. She kept her hands to herself and stayed a person’s length away from you at all times, only admiring you with her eyes. Before you could fully step inside your apartment, you immediately jumped in place.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Very slowly, you pulled Ellie’s jacket off your shoulders and handed it back to her. She accepted the leather wordlessly and tucked it over her arm. “Thank you… I… I don’t even know your name, miss.”

“Ellie,” She bowed her head, that loose lock of auburn hair falling in front of her face for a second before she tucked it back behind her ear. She held her hand out for you to take, which you did without realizing and then, you were blushing once more!

The bartender bent down and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, like you were a princess. Her lips were soft and gentle as she kissed your skin and then immediately released your hand, looking up at you and bowing her head with respect. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’m happy you’re safe and that we were able to help you.”

And as quick as she was in your life, she was getting on the elevator and leaving without another word. You leaned against the door and frowned, putting a hand over your chest to try and still your fast beating heart. “Goodbye… Ellie…”

Abby looked up from the phone, her hair still damp and dark after her shower. The front door opened up and she watched Ellie drop the keys on the table next to the entrance and slam her entire body against the wooden surface to shut it behind her. Ellie had this silly little smile on her face and Abby just rolled her eyes and leaned back. “You didn’t make her uncomfortable, did you?”

“I don’t think I did,” Ellie draped her jacket over the back of the reclining chair and flopped down next to Abby, leaning up and gently kissing her cheek. “Tonight, was definitely one of the more exciting ones, yeah?”

“Your tellin’ me,” Abby rolled her shoulders a bit as she looked at her phone, double checking to make sure she wasn’t on schedule tomorrow. She and Ellie had the day off together, which was a luxury few could afford due to the holiday. “Gotta go in tomorrow to pick up my paycheck though, that sucks.”

“Before open, babe,” Ellie said, standing back up and slowly unbuttoning her white shirt, untucking it from her dark denim jeans and tossing it onto the couch next to Abby who immediately locked her phone just to watch the show. Ellie smirked, stripping her clothes off piece by piece until she was standing in just her sports bra and boxers. “I’m gonna shower, okay?”

Before Ellie could walk off, Abby was gently grabbing her hand. “Wait, hold on. I… I had uh… something I had to ask.”

“Yes?” Ellie smiled warmly.

“You remember when we talked about… having a uhm… you know, a polyamorous thing? Bringing another girl in with us?” Abby stumbled on her words, her cheeks heating up as she thought about you and how sickeningly adorable you were. “You think that uh… maybe she could—”

“Abby,” Ellie reached down and ran her entire hand across Abby’s cheek, rubbing her jawline and making the blonde lean hard into her touch. If she had a tail, it would be wagging. “If we ever see her again? Maybe. But we don’t even know if she’s into girls, or if she likes both of us.”

“Were we lookin’ at the same girl?” Abby chuckled. “She may as well have a bisexual flag tattoo on her forehead, El.”

“Okay, point taken,” Ellie smiled. You did give off bi vibes, and that was the only reason she felt confident enough to give you that hand kiss without pissing herself. And when you didn’t shove her away, it was a very good sign. “But still, she has to like us both… But I mean, not to brag, but I’m pretty sure she likes me more.”

Abby was on her feet in seconds, racing after Ellie as they both went into the bedroom where the shorter woman stepped into the bathroom. “I beg to differ! She only likes you more now because you got to flirt with her! That’s an unfair advantage—”

“Excuses, excuses,” Ellie mocked, sticking her tongue out and hopping into the shower to clean off the smell of alcohol from her skin. “If we see her again, I bet I take her out on a date before you do!”

“Oh, it is so on, Williams.”

“What’s the prize for the winner?” Abby didn’t even need to see Ellie to know she was smirking.

Abby grinned like a wolf. “Loser gets strapped.”

“Ooooh, almost want to lose now, baby.”

[half-oz-eddie]

I didn’t know I wanted you (Until I couldn’t have you)

Part 3/5

For the next 3 weeks, it had become nearly impossible for Buck and Tommy to have much free time to see each other.

And see each other, in Buck’s mind, is having one on one time with Tommy, without Eddie. Sure “hanging out with the boys” was fun and all, but there was a lighter element in the air when Buck was alone with Tommy. He couldn’t quite describe it, but sometimes, he preferred it, craved it, even. He could be sitting right next to Tommy during a beer and movie night with Eddie and still feel so far away from him.

The most interesting surprise for Buck was Tommy texting him during one of their movie nights.

They shared a glance, smiling at one another.

That’s really weird. I can’t say that!

Buck tucked his lips in, trying to contain himself. Tommy was sitting close by and he didn’t want him to see a big, stupid smile on his face.

When he briefly glanced up at Tommy, he was already looking his way. Buck shot him a half-smirk and a nod, and Tommy nodded back.

His heart was racing again.

Tommy’s really cool.

The next day, Buck and Tommy met for dinner and beers. They joked, they laughed, they had a great time.

“How’ve you been doing? I know you told me plenty about how Gerrard’s been treating you. You okay?”

“As okay as I’ll ever be. I miss Bobby. The energy of the 118 is…different now. I just hate it. I love my job. But I-I hate this feeling.”

Tommy nodded in understanding. “Sometimes change can be good, but sometimes change can ruin your day-to-day life. Especially when it’s a person single-handedly trying to make your life a living hell.”

“Exactly. That’s all he’s been doing for weeks.”

Tommy looked at Buck with soft, sympathetic eyes. His gaze felt like a comforting hug, and Buck couldn’t look away. He couldn’t resist the urge to just fall in.

“Evan…I know it’s not easy.” Tommy smiled. “But you’re doing great. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Buck broke eye contact, sheepishly looking away. “I-I just feel a little defeated sometimes.”

“I’m sure Bobby will get his job back sooner or later. It’s just the natural order of things. The 118 belongs together, right?”

Buck nodded in agreement. “Right!”

“Ready to get outta here and head to the theater?”

“Uh—yeah. Let’s go.”

After seeing a double feature of two amazing films Buck had never even heard of, Tommy rode with him in an Uber back to his place and Buck offered him a cup of coffee.

“Hey, so, Wednesday, you’re coming with us for drinks, right?”

Tommy sadly sighed. “Sorry, I can’t. I have a date.”

“A-a date?” Buck forced a smile. Why did this bother him so much? “Who’s the lucky person?”

“Just…someone I met during my run.” Tommy answered dismissively. “But maybe we can do something next weekend?”

Buck nodded. “Y—ah—yeah—yeah. Next weekend sounds great.”

“Great!” Tommy looked down at his phone. “My Uber should be here in 5, I’m gonna head down. Text you when I get home.”

“Okay uh…see you later.”

Buck held his breath until the door shut behind Tommy and he let out an exasperated sigh, shoulders drooping with disappointment.

He wasn’t sure what was bothering him, until he remembered what Tommy said at dinner.

Sometimes change can be good, but sometimes change can ruin your day-to-day life. Especially when it’s a person single-handedly trying to make your life a living hell.

Not that whoever Tommy was dating would intend to make his life hell in some way, but just the thought of spending less time with Tommy made him feel a loneliness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Buck felt strangely about the way their conversation ended. He only had himself to blame for being so dismissive. He couldn’t fight the nagging thought that he had to fix it somehow.

Buck didn’t want the conversation to end. It was late, and surely they were both exhausted, but every second that passed, he felt like Tommy was slowly slipping away from him.

He hated this stupid thought. Tommy didn’t belong to him. Tommy was his friend. He was Eddie’s friend. He was everyone at the 118’s friend.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that they shared a special friendship. One unlike the friendship he shared with everyone else. Buck was the only one Tommy wanted to take on weekly hiking trips. Buck was the one Tommy texted late at night to just talk and distract him from what stressed him out. In a way, Buck felt like Tommy was his.

And he was going to lose him.

[hanleiacelebration]

Han/Leia Appreciation Week 2024

WE'RE BACK, BABY! "Wait, what's happening, wasn't this in August??" you might wonder. Based on your feedback, we decided to host this and (probably) future editions of Han/Leia Appreciation Week earlier in the year. July seemed like the better choice, given that it's a vacation period in both hemispheres!

This year we're also giving you the prompts over a month in advance, so you have plenty of time to plan and create!

Han/Leia Appreciation Week was an event originally hosted at @han-leia-solo between 2016-2019, but for the past three years, we've taken up the mantle here at @hanleiacelebration 😊

💖 How does Han/Leia Appreciation Week work?

The event will run from July 14th to July 20th, and there will be two different prompts each day that creators can fulfill with: fanfic, fanart, gifsets, graphics, fanvids, headcanons, crafts, playlists, rec lists. You’re encouraged to tag your posts with #hanleiaweek2024 so we can reblog them! After the week is over, we’ll share a masterlist with links to the works.

You can show your appreciation in many ways; however, please keep in mind that it has to be a creation of yours of some sort, e.g. don’t repost other people’s fanart, gifs, or unedited pictures. Rec lists should include a link to the original source both for fanfic and fanart (more on this after the cut).

🎆 The prompts

Sunday 7/14: Tradition / Ceremony

Monday 7/15: Braids & Bloodstripes (hair or clothing) / Home planet

Tuesday 7/16: AU / Canon divergence

Wednesday 7/17: Force / Belief

Thursday 7/18: Favorite scene / Favorite quote

Friday 7/19: Meeting / Escape

Saturday 7/20: Free day!

You can use only one of the daily prompts, combine both, reinterpret them, or skip the day if you can’t think of anything. If you’re not able to post on the same day for a prompt, you’re still encouraged to share it through the week—just don’t post works for a certain prompt before the day corresponding to that prompt.

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FAQs and Rules under the cut - please read!

💕 Can I post my work to another site and share the link on Tumblr?

Yes! This is a good option for people who might want to create explicit art that could be taken down on Tumblr, write a long fic or multichapter, or make videos or playlists.

💕 Does it have to be a new creation? Can I finish and post a WIP?

It has to be something that has never been posted anywhere else before, so finishing and sharing a WIP is okay! If it doesn’t fit any of the prompts, you can share it on Free Day.

💕 Is this event open to all ratings?

Yes! Just remember to use a “Read more” cut if you’re posting the whole work on Tumblr, and to add a note at the top if your work is rated Mature or Explicit, as well as if it has any major trigger warnings, so all folks can safely browse through the entries.

💕 Are there any length or quality requirements?

There’s no min. or max. length for fanfic or quality level for art, but please note that AI-generated works won’t be accepted. For gifsets, there’s a minimum of two gifs (that must be made by you!). For playlists, there’s a minimum of five songs. For rec lists of fic or fanart, there’s also a minimum of five recs. Some more questions you might have about rec lists:

- How do I share someone else’s art without posting a picture? You might post a thumbnail that crops a preview of the piece; if the piece has a title, you might use that; you might describe it; or you might say something like “this piece by [artist]”, and link to the source.

- What if I found a fanart on Google? Try to find the original source using reverse search image.

- What if I can’t still find it, can I just say “credit to the artist”? In that case, please just don’t share the piece.

- What if I know the artist but don’t have a link to the original source? Naming the artist and linking back to where you found it is okay, in that case.

💕 Can I write for canon/Legends and include other pairings?

All canons, time periods, headcanons and AUs are welcome, and you’re allowed to include side pairings, except for R*eylo. However, keep in mind that this is a Han/Leia appreciation week - at the risk of sounding repetitive, works should focus on appreciating Han and Leia’s relationship!

💕 What’s the time zone for the event?

Please don’t worry too much about time zones: when we say “day”, we always mean “whenever that day is for you in your part of the world”. IE: if it’s Monday for you, you can post your work for the Monday prompt.

💠 💠 💠

Do you have any other questions? Don’t hesitate to send us an ask or to message one of the mods: @lajulie24 @hanorganaas and @otterandterrier

We can’t wait to see what you all create!

[lenasai]

this is one of the campaigns i spotlighted a while back. ghazi's campaign is progressing, but very slowly - too slowly for the circumstances he and his family are living through. €500-€1000 short term goals are taking an excruciatingly long amount of time to reach.

his situation, in his own words (emphasis mine):

When the war on Gaza began on October 7, 2023, my relatives and uncles took refuge in our house, thinking that it was the safe house, and 5 days after their displacement to us, the occupation carried out a brutal and violent bombardment on the neighborhood next to us. On the morning of Friday, 10/13/2023, the Zionist occupation called my older brother, asking him to escape, evacuate all the buildings of the entire neighborhood, and head to the south of the Gaza Strip. It was very suspicious and scary and we didn't know where to turn. We had to evacuate. I had to flee with my family to a safe area, leaving behind my neighborhood, my home, my shops, my work, my memories, literally everything. We took refuge with our relatives in Al-Maghazi camp, and 12 days after we were displaced, on 10/25/2023, the occupation bombed the bakery opposite the house in which we were displaced, and I was injured in my foot. On the left side and an injury, my brother suffered minor burns to her face, and the house became partially destroyed, but it is the only shelter we have, so we restored what we could to live in the house as much as possible. On November 4, 2023, warplanes targeted the bakery after it was destroyed again. Thank God, none of us were injured, and nothing was done here. We were able to restore, but we cleaned and sat down because there was no other place, and on the morning of Wednesday, January 3, 2024, the occupation made a sudden ground entry into Al-Maghazi camp, and here we were surrounded and we could not leave the house. There was no water, food or any other necessities of life. We just sat and heard the sounds of shelling, bullets and missiles. We are waiting for our turn to come. Until Sunday morning, January 7, 2024, we miraculously managed to leave Al-Maghazi under bombardment and took refuge in Rafah. I had no one or relatives there, and we built a tent to shelter me and my family. On May 28, 2024, we were displaced for the sixth time after nights and days of violent bombing on tents in Rafah’s Mawasi. They were displaced and we did not know where to run. I cannot describe the situation adequately; I think you've seen enough on the Internet. I lost my home, my shops, my family's source of income, and I was left with nothing. I have lost many friends over the past four months. However, I feel nothing but complete helplessness and inability to help my family. The feeling of helplessness is humiliating and painful, as negative thoughts dominate your thoughts, such as thinking about suicide or wishing for death to escape this feeling. But here I am breathing again and thinking of positive solutions in the face of crushing death. I'm trying to cling to life.

today, ghazi made an update: his campaign finally reached its €9,500 short term goal. the next one is €10,000. let's help him reach that goal by the end of next week! i think it's completely doable, but he needs your help. even €5 helps, but if you truly cannot donate, then please spread his campaign in the hopes that it will reach someone who can.

this campaign has been featured on the @gazafunds website and i trust its legitimacy.

€9,629 / €10,000 (short-term) - €371 left to short-term goal

€9,629 / €50,000 total

please share this post so other people can see this campaign!

[stirthewaters]

Too Sharp to Touch pt.10

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: At a hangout with the gang at the lake, you receive an unexpected visitor after an extremely uncomfortable encounter.

Warnings: Language, brief descriptions of stripping? Creepy dude, mentions of alcohol, drugs, needles.

Pairings: Wednesday x Reader

Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS, wishing everyone the best holidays, I'll see all of you next year! <3

Enid Sinclair was almost positive that she was losing her mind. 

Watching you and Wednesday converse was just a slow torture at this point; could you two not see the obvious connection right in front of you? It made the blonde want to shake some sense into one of you.

After the carving event from last week, Enid had returned to the dorm early to see Wednesday seated with her cello on the balcony, fingers poised over the strings, a breath of anticipation in the air as if about to start… but she didn’t. It was as if the Addams were frozen in thought, caught in her own mind. When the werewolf had called out to her roommate, questioning if she was alright, she received some half-assed response about preparing her sheet music.

But she knew otherwise.

You, of course, were trying to be subtle and failing. Miserably. You usually weren’t such a bad actor when it came to these things. And Enid had seen you with crushes before; she knew the signs, and you definitely had your eyes on the Addams.

So screw the whole “partners investigation”, she would not be able to physically or mentally handle it if she watched her roommate go over her file of evidence with you in the dining hall one more time. If you moved your hand just a tiny bit to the left you could have touched Wednesday's hand. Or if you scooted just slightly to the side you could have touched your thighs. And Enid had a sneaking suspicion that her roommate would allow your touch, not to mention the fact that she’d literally seen her do so before.

It was after you had your fighting lesson with Wednesday that Enid approached her roommate, already very much prepared to play her well-practiced role of matchmaker. The Addams was storing her gear in her locker neatly, placing her helmet on the top shelf as Enid approached, her neat bangs slightly pressed against her forehead with sweat. 

“Howdy Wednesday, how was fighting practice?” Enid hummed as she skipped over, grinning. 

“Average,” came the unsatisfying response. Enid had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. As the goth started down the hall she quickly followed suit; how could such a short girl move so fast?

“That’s it? Just average?” She pressed gently, following her movements. “Come on, you gotta give me the details.” The blonde was met with Wednesday’s dark eyes flitting over to meet hers, eyebrows slightly furrowed as she responded easily, “What more is there to say? It was merely lessons. Nothing more, nothing less. Just an associate returning a favor.”

Associate. Enid knew her roommate to know that that wasn’t the only word she’d use to describe you. Huffing, she swerved around a passing student as she spoke, being as subtle as possible. “Did you have fun?”

Wednesday paused, eyes widening slightly in disbelief as she glanced at the blonde, nose scrunching in slight disgust. “Enid, I assure you I do not “have fun”. I merely fulfilled a responsibility. What pleasure would one find in that?” She picked up the pace slightly.

“I dunno Willa, you just aren’t complaining as much as you usually do about…anything.” Enid grinned softly, daring to give the raven a soft nudge to the shoulder with her own. Wednesday tensed but didn’t push her away, merely turning the corner towards their shared dorm, and heading for the stairs. “If in the case I have found satisfaction in my lessons with Y/N it’d be simply for the reason that it’s refreshing to teach someone who possesses actual skill at the sport rather than dumb luck.” Wednesday paused slightly, eyes narrowing as she shot Enid a look. “And if you tell her that I ever said such a thing then the both of you will end up with a silver bullet in the leg.” Unfazed, Enid gave a slight shrug, nodding in agreement to her roommate’s statement. At least now she was getting somewhere. “Are you planning on working with Y/N today?”

“If we progress further in our case then I’d assume so, but nothing has been planned for today. It’s rather convenient, seeing as my writing hour is approaching.” As Enid made the climb after her up the narrow staircase, she had to think fast. She couldn’t give up now, not after getting this far. Looking around quickly she gave a soft curse, wishing silently that Thing could be here when she actually needed him. Pulling out her phone she shot you quick text before stuffing her phone back into her pocket, casually leaning against the doorframe of the dorm as Wednesday entered her closet to change. 

“Well, I hope you enjoy yourself, I’ll be out of your hair soon anyways, I’m off with Y/N and the gang to go to the lake.” There was a silence that followed from the closet, the only sound present being the faint ruffling of clothing as Enid’s eyes wandered over the wooden doorframe, making sure not to accidentally peek. She had the Addams now, she knew it. It was a success to herself knowing that if she managed to get Wednesday to abandon her writing hour for you she’d be sure of her suspicions. After a moment the raven reappeared, dressed comfortably in her white and black striped shirt with her black fleece hoodie pulled over, adjusting her sleeves as she spoke, eyebrows furrowed just slightly.

“I wasn’t aware Y/N’s schedule had changed.”

“Yeah, it was like a recent thing, Bianca shot the group chat a text and apparently everyone was free so it was pretty lucky. Even Kent is coming.”

“And Marcelo?” “What does Marcelo have to do with anything?” Enid paused, interest piqued as she glanced at the raven, who was now seated at her desk, fingers poised at her typewriter as if ready to type, though she hadn’t moved yet, eyes focused on the keys as she muttered,

“No particular reason; morbid curiosity spurs me to refer to the fact that Marcelo has certain interests in Y/N.”

“Yeah, but -” Enid moved further into the room, raising an eyebrow. If anything, you hated Marcelo, and she knew it well. God, could she go on about the nights that you’d spent ranting about the dumbass. Yeah, Marcelo. “- he’s mostly just tagging along because Kent’s gonna be there. He’s kind of hard to exclude.” She paused, frowning softly before glancing at the Addams, who was now typing away, precisioned fingers flying across the keyboard. “Do you expect us to just kick him out?”

“Out of pure sadism, I might go so far as to say yes,” Wednesday muttered under her breath, easily detectable to Enid’s ears as her fingers pounded harder against the keyboard. 

“Well, we’re not, unfortunately.” Enid paused, biting her lip slightly as her eyes darted around the room, mind racing to find a solution. Maybe this was going to be harder than she thought. Taking a quick inhale, she rapidly decided that she’d just have to hope for the best. “Well, I hope you enjoy your night, I’m gonna head out.” The blonde shouldered her bag that was already ready on her bed, walked out of the dorm, and closed the door behind her.

God, she hoped this would work.

-

The lake was calm. Silent. You liked it.

The group was typically rowdy, breaking through the calm quiet of the water, but you didn’t mind that either. The sky was already darkening, the sound of a few crickets filling the air as everyone set up. A calm breeze sent the trees gently ruffling, the waters of the lake rippling. It was almost hard to imagine the exact same body of water being filled with students and boats, bustling with energy.

“Finish daydreaming and help me blow up the float, furball.” You caught an elbow in the side from Bianca, and you let out a soft wince, rolling your eyes as you held out your hand for said float, sitting on the dock beside the siren to begin filling the large float, preparing the pump, and connecting the attachments. “We’re lucky if Kent doesn’t pop one like last time.” “For your information, it was a bet, which I totally won,” Kent spoke up from the hill, scowling slightly as he worked at unbuttoning his shirt, and throwing it at Bianca. “At least I follow through on bets, unlike someone-”

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes as you groaned, starting to pump air into the float. “You guys really expected me to actually hunt down a squirrel?” “You’re the one that suggested it in the first place,” Kent shrugged, at the exact same time that Yoko shouted from the pathway - “You’re a werewolf, dumbass! Wolves hunt things!”

“Well it wasn’t even relatively close to a full moon so it was automatically discredited,” you grumbled to yourself, huffing as you put more pressure on the pump handle. Yoko stepped to drop her bag on the dock, and the clinking of bottles immediately made you perk up, instantly recognizing the sound. “You brought booze?”

“Don’t tell me you expected less,” Yoko scoffed, a small grin playing on her face that perfectly showed off her fangs that glinted slightly in the evening light. “Isn’t that my role here?”

"Hell yes, Tanaka," Bianca grinned from her position, working at the other float as she spoke.

"The good stuff?" You perked slightly, curious, as you pulled at the bag, trying to get a peek before Enid slapped your hands away.

“You don't get any,” Enid huffed, folding her arms as she shot you a look, raising an eyebrow whilst dumping her towel onto the dock. “We’re not supposed to have it in the first place and I’m sure you all remember from the last time that she can’t handle it.”

"And yes, it's the good stuff," Yoko grinned slightly, emphasizing her words. "Don't expect anything less."

“Fuck you,” you stuck out your tongue at the blonde, who shot one right back. “You were tipsy as hell, don’t get me started.” Enid rolled her eyes, sitting on the wood as she huffed in response, “Still not as bad as you. You’re lucky Weems didn’t catch you or you’d’ve had even more community service.” After a moment she cocked her head, in an almost dog-like fashion. “Aren’t you gonna get changed though?”

“Miss I’m-In-Charge told me to blow up this shit,” you roll your eyes, ignoring the look Bianca shoots you. “If you don't mind taking over then I can get it done.”

Enid sighed and moved you out of the way, taking the pump in her own hands as she gestured you to go. “Just don’t get run over.”

You paused, scanning the undergrowth around the lake for a good spot, eyes narrowing as you silently thanked the stars that you had a decent vision in the dark. “give me like two minutes.” You scooped up your change of clothing, kicking off your shoes as you stepped onto the path, dodging a chunk of mud hurled from Ajax at Kent. 

It took you a bit to get deep enough into the undergrowth that you were sure you were out of view, not that you thought anyone would go looking in the dark for you. Stepping behind a clump of bushes you pulled at your top, placing it on a branch to hang as you tugged at the straps of your tank top. It was almost eerily quiet now that you were far off from the group; the sounds of laughter and talking were audible, yes, but only faintly, one that could be easily tuned out if you didn’t focus on it. 

A faint stick cracking brought you out of your thoughts as you paused, eyebrows furrowing as you straightened, eyes whipping around the foliage in search of the source. Nothing. Odd. You shrugged it off; it must be a rabbit or something like that.

“Y/N?” Jumping clear out of your skin, you let out a hiss of surprise as you raced to cover yourself, pulling a towel around your upper half as you turned on your heel, eyes wide and senses up, to see Marcelo standing a couple feet away, partially hidden by low hanging branches.

“Marcelo, what the actual fuck?” You hissed, heart pounding as you took a small step back, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable with just the towel between you and him. He was giving you that stupid grin, the one you wished to God you could smack off of his face.

“Wow, did not think I’d walk in on some Y/L/N ass tonight-” he took a step forwards, almost matching your step back as he spoke as his grin grew slightly. “You look good.”

“What the hell are you doing here? The group is all the way over there -” You pointed with your arm, a frown on your face as you spoke. “No offense but it’s making you look like a creep right now that you were hiding in the bushes of all places watching me strip.” “Oh come off it, don’t be sensitive,” the werewolf rolled his eyes with a scoff, gesturing to the towel over his shoulder as he took another step forward. “I just got here, I heard movement on the bank and thought it was the group.”

“In the bushes?” You frown scornfully, adjusting the towel tighter around your chest as you bump against the trunk behind you, eyebrows narrowing as you feel your heart pick up the pace. “Don’t be an idiot, just go.”

“What a warm welcome,” he muttered, eyes lingering slightly on your towel. “You don’t need to rush me away like that. Don’t tell me you don’t wanna see me?” “I never said that.” You pause, lying right through your teeth as you cast a glance through the undergrowth, almost praying that Enid, Yoko, or someone would show up. “If you’d ever heard of privacy maybe you’d understand.” “Come on, Y/N -” Marcelo took a step forward, warm hand landing on your wrist. You frowned, eyes narrowing as you tried to shake it off, your grip on the towel loosening as you did so. Quickly reacting, you tried to move away to fix it but instead, the werewolf reached for it, "I can help with that-” Just as you were about to smack the shit out of him, he froze in place, eyes glazing over slightly as he took a small step back. 

“Marcelo, what the fuck-” you stepped forward, eyes widening as right before you he crumpled, body collapsing onto the dirt as he passed out cold. You quickly scrambled to throw on your top, before kneeling and checking his pulse. Alive, yes. Conscious, obviously not, but you couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening until you spotted Thing, beside his left ankle, which now had a needle jammed into it. 

“Thing?” Your eyes widened in shock, taking a moment to process before you stuttered. “W-what the hell did you do? He’s not gonna die, is he?”

“Unfortunately not.” A voice to your left scared the shit out of you for the second time that night as you jumped, bumping into the branch beside you. “Shit! What the- the-”

Your words fell away as you narrowed your eyes, recognizing Wednesday’s dark form among the trees, arms folded over her chest with a barely concealed look of disgust at the unconscious Marcelo, eyes dark. It took you a couple seconds to catch your breath again as you immediately felt your heartbeat pick right back up again, at a loss for words. 

“It was a simple dose of thiopental. He’ll most likely experience a few side effects once it wears off, but fortunately, you won’t have to suffer through that again.” The Addams stepped forward, nudging his ankle as she leaned down, removing the needle and placing it neatly in her bag. “It was pathetic to watch, being honest.”

“B-but why- how-” you fought to understand, placing a finger on your temple as you glanced at her, somehow surprised by her nonchalance. “You knew I was here?”

“I was sending Thing to drop off the towel Enid had left in the dorm when he informed me of your situation. I accompanied him back with the sedatives.” Wednesday’s dark eyes met yours evenly, tone now laced with faint disdain. “Believe me when I say I’d be more than glad to do it again. You weren’t the only one bothered by him.”

“Yeah, he’s an ass.” You mumbled breathlessly, eyes dropping to Marcelo once more as you softly inhaled, fighting down a shudder. As if sensing your discomfort, Wednesday took a step backward, glancing out over the lake as she muttered, “This will stay between us three, understood? If he asks questions, let me know.” You gave a little nod, recovering your breath as you found the words you needed, meeting her gaze once more as you felt your pulse quicken once more. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” Wednesday turned her head slightly, breaking eye contact as she gazed across the lake through the branches. “I’ll have to remind you in the future to carry around the correct poisons.” She bent down, grabbing Marcelo’s wrists as Thing moved to support his waist, the two of them positioned to haul him away.

“Do you need help?” You took a step forward, already reaching for one of the werewolf’s ankles to be of assistance, but Wednesday shook her head, the faintest sadistic gleam in her eye that honestly, at this point you were used to. “That won’t be necessary. Me and Thing have performed this task several times before; I’m looking forward to this.” Nodding, you watched as the two of them easily slid the unconscious boy up the hill, quickly disappearing into the dark as you took a moment to process, slowly sliding down to a squat as the welcoming and comforting scent of dirt and undergrowth filled your senses, your adrenaline slowly dying as you let out a long sigh, processing as you grounded yourself, the only sound present in your senses now the faint chatter in the distance and the trees swaying gently.

“Y/N? Where the hell are you?” Broken out of your thoughts, you glanced out over the shore, spotting Enid, hand shielding her eyes as she approached. “Are you good? It’s been a lot longer than two minutes-” “I’m fine, E,” you stood, brushing off your arms as you threw your towel and clothes over your shoulder, stepping out of your hiding spot as you approached, moving her hand out of her face. “Took longer than I thought. I’m all good.” 

-

Marcelo woke up that night tied to a chair.

 

Taglist:

@idkjustliving2 @alexkolax @tekanparadiae

[drdemonprince]

In reading your latest piece, I think I've stumbled onto something akin to a personal epiphany. You describe transition as an act of "want" (Chu's longing for gossip and yours for the life of an eternal bachelor) and I've realized that I think as a consequence of growing up autistic, I've obliterated the concept of personal want. I don't know if I truly ever want anything? How do I even know what I truly want (versus what other people tell me I should want)? Is there an opposite of resentment I can tune into so I can tell what I want when my conscious mind is unable to provide me an answer?

I think the place is to start with what you don't want. What I describe as "wanting the bachelor life forever" in my piece is actually a desire born out of negation: I don't want kids, I don't want marriage, I don't want responsible adulthood and the weight that that carries, I want to feel free-roaming and open to random experiences. What i knew most viscerally for myself was what felt wrong, and owning up to those feelings no matter how socially inconvenient they might be was what made it possible for me to articulate what I proactively did find desirable.

I recommend rejecting a lot of things, disappointing a lot of people, being disobedient, setting boundaries, all of that stuff that I have been writing about for a very long time (check out the pieces on those subjects if you haven't already, but from the sound of it you probably have). And then when it comes to positively desiring things, you've got to start small. Find a little thing to look forward to every day, or every week. In my household, Wednesdays and Fridays are Dunkin Donuts days. Instead of making coffee at home, you get a little treat. That makes getting a coffee out of the house still feel precious and special while also making it attainable, and gives the work week a little horizon to peak over at its mid point.

I so look forward to the weekly streams on Friday with @testdevice, too. Afterward I usually get a meal somewhere and then go out for some kind of weekend activity -- drinking and watching Drag Race at Roscoe's, a movie, dancing, whatever. I make forming plans for the weekend a task I set out for myself at the top of every week. I find street festivals, concerts, craft fairs, protests, little things to do that I know will be meaningful to me. Small pleasures parceled out on a regular schedule provide a pleasing structure to life. It makes the forward march of time feel more exciting and keeps daily life from being defined by obligation and drudgery. Sometimes it's something like playing a video game at home or meeting up at a friend's house for a movie night and snacks. However you can swing it, you gotta have little things to look forward to, I think, in order to enjoy being alive and to get into the habit of thinking more expansively about what you want. you can making finding things that you want to do a regular project, a practice.

A lot of life is experimenting with new experiences and relationships with other people to find out what you actually like. It's not some profound act of introspection. People block themselves off from a lot of meaningful aspects of life by thinking the answers come from plumbing the depths of their soul and finding their true calling or true desire divorced from everything else. There is no self outside of experience and social connection.

And so the best way to find out what you want is to try a lot of different things. Go watch your friend at their competitive poker tournament. Volunteer to clean litter off the beach. Foster a bunny rabbit. Make a casserole. Darn a sock. Buy some handmade jewelry. Visit a museum with a coworker you kinda might like the company of. Invite someone over for dinner. How it plays out and how you feel about it is all data about the kind of person you are becoming.

I also wouldn't get too bogged down in the idea that wants can only come from the pursuit of happiness. I got a few really well intentioned asks this week that I never answered about what brings me joy, what makes me happy. Truth is, I'm not someone who experiences happiness easily and i might never be. That is okay. I still have a life that holds meaning because I AM very good at finding things interesting. i like talking to people, learning from them, watching things play out in real time.

You don't have to feel some kind of abiding soul connection to an activity or sense that a way of life will absolutely make you happy in order for it to interest you, help you grow, bring your life meaning. Other people might not want to read long history books about genocide and the social construction of race in order to bring their life pleasure, but those activities engage my mind and make me feel more firmly rooted in the actual world. they're interesting and rewarding to study, and so i do it. i say yes to a lot of invitations purely because i've never seen what horse racing is like or because i want to see if i'll still get nauseated if i ride a boat now as an adult. it's interesting. it might not make me happy or be fun. but i like a life better with those experiences. those are the things i gravitate to and want. and you can find what you want, too, and it will always keep changing probably.

[vioartemis]

Friends? (Part 2)

(Wednesday Addams x fem! reader)

Summary: Your friendship with Wednesday takes another turn after one of your night visits doesn't go as planned. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 Warnings: erm blood, werewolf attack (not described) a/n: I guess a part 3 is going to be written (I wanted to try something longer but woah maybe it's a little too long) (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

After that night, Wednesday and you started texting, mostly exchanging about poisonous plants and outcasts. Her texts were well written, good punctuation, good grammar… Really in her style.

The average person would probably not particularly appreciate the way she texts -and talks- but you knew she wasn’t just that. You knew she wasn’t just the cold goth girl without a heart everyone seemed to believe she was.

You loved her personality and enjoyed her company.

Hence why you spent most of your nights in her and Enid’s dorm, or sometimes in the Nightshade’s library when no one else was there. The books they had in there were just amazing. You spent hours reading them, utterly fascinated, with Wednesday sat at the opposite side of the room.

Despite all her efforts, the raven couldn’t seem to be able to concentrate on her own reading; her eyes were glued on you. She had never seen someone so passionate while reading.

The way you were biting your lip when reading, feeling the pages under your thumb, turning the pages carefully not to tear them…

Even though she had said she only tolerated your presence, Enid could see she was looking forward to your visits. The blonde knew her roommate liked you more than she wanted to admit.

One night Wednesday even took you to the greenhouse to show you some of the plants you told her you would love to see.

For the first time since she met Enid, she really enjoyed spending time with someone. You were interesting. Not glued to a phone 24/7, not hating on others because they’re different.

You were a normie, but an outcast amongst the normies. In a sense you were just like her.

This night was another night out for you. You were on your bike, on your way to Nevermore.

Wednesday was waiting for you in her dorm. She had something she wanted to show you, which she was sure you would like.

She turned to her roommate’s side, about to ask her something, only to find her side empty. The raven frowned.

“Thing, where’s Enid?”

Thing tapped on the desk.

The raven’s eyes widened slightly.

Wednesday rushed to her phone. She forgot the full moon. And even if the werewolves were supposed to be locked away during this night, but accidents happen -already happened before.

For the first time since she gave you her number, she called you. No answer. She tried again. Still nothing.

She swore under her breath, and tried again.

“Wednesday?”

“You have to go home.”

“What? Why? I didn’t even get to see y-”

“Y/n. Listen to me. It’s the full moon, it’s not safe.”

“I’m already under your balcony! I just can’t go bac- Wait, aren’t the werewolves supposed to be locked up?”

“Sometimes the cages break. I’m serious, Y/n. You have to-”

She could hear a growl on your side, and heavy breathing.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

She burst out of her dorm and ran to Yoko’s, hoping to find Divina or Bianca there. She banged on the door, still on the phone with you.

She heard you swear, then a noise she couldn’t identify, and the call ended.

“Wednesday-”

“Y/n’s in danger. I need your help. … Please.”

The three girls knew it wasn’t very Wednesday like to plead; the situation must be serious.

Wednesday explained the situation to the girls while they were going down to where you were. The raven hopped they wouldn’t find you. It would mean you were safe.

Sadly, a few meters away from the gate, an inanimate form drew her attention.

You were laying on the grass, blood all over you.

The raven was frozen in place. It reminded her of when she brought Enid to the Gate’s house the year prior. It reminded her when Eugene got attacked in the woods while she was at the Rave’N.

She was responsible. If you died she would be responsible. You would never get to finish your studies on outcasts. You would never get to experiment with Aconitum, or Nightshade, or every other plant you wanted to experiment on. Because of her.

“Wednesday!”

Bianca was holding her by her shoulders.

“She’s alive. But we have to do something quickly.”

The girls carried you to the botanical class. They didn’t have enough time to drive you to the hospital, they had to use what they had.

Bianca and Wednesday were looking through all the plants around them, trying to find the right ones to use, while Yoko and Divina stayed by your side, trying to stop the bleeding.

After what felt like an eternity to the raven, they finally found something that could work.

“Are you sure-”

“No. But that’s all that we have” Bianca said

They prepared the plants, so they had a liquid, before taking a nearby syringe. Once everything was ready, they went back to you.

“Do you want to do it?” the siren asked the raven

She didn’t answer, and just took the syringe. She took a deep breath, noticing her hands were slightly shaking, before injecting you the liquid. She looked at you, eyes full of worry.

It wasn’t 100% sure to work. But it had to. You just couldn’t die like that.

A minute passed. Nothing happened.

Wednesday took your hand in hers, holding it tightly.

“If you die, I will kill you.”

The other girls looked at each other, concerned.

“Wednesday…”

“No. She’s going to wake up. We just have to wait.”

She didn’t really know if she was trying to convince them, or herself.

You were part of her life now, she was used to talking to you every day, to seeing you almost every night… She couldn’t lose you. She liked you.

“Guys”

Wednesday’s eyes moved from your face to your wounds as Yoko pointed toward them. Your cuts were healing! The blood was like absorbed back by your body, leaving deep cuts and coagulated blood. You would have scars, but you were alive.

She let go of your hand to wipe some tears she hadn’t noticed had rolled down her cheeks.

“I’ll stitch her back up. … Thank you.”

The other girls gave the raven a little smile, relieved you were okay, and knowing how much it had cost Wednesday to ask for their help.

Thanks to the girls’ help, Wednesday could bring you back to her dorm and lay you on her bed.

While she was stitching you up, she couldn’t help but take a closer look at your wounds; she didn’t know exactly how the plants they used worked, but she was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to make the blood coagulate so fast. Maybe a sort of mutation happened.

Her pale hands were still tainted with your blood when you opened your eyes. You groaned as you tried to sit up, catching Wednesday’s attention.

“What are you doing?” she asked while she forced you to lay down as gently as she could “You’re hurt. Don’t move.”

She grabbed a bottle of pills and a glass of water, and brought them to you.

“Take that, it’s painkillers.”

You nodded and took the medicine with her help.

“… I’m sorry”

“What? Why?” you asked, surprised by her sudden apology

“I put you in danger, I’m sorry.”

She had learnt from her mistakes -from her fight with Enid after they got attacked at the Gate’s house. Even if she would never admit it, she didn’t want to lose you.

“It’s not your fault, I should have listened when you told me to go home…”

“… You shouldn’t stay close to me. All I ever do is destroy everything.”

You sat up, ignoring the pain, and grabbed her hand.

“That’s not true. Like I said, it’s not your fault. And I’m alive!” you looked directly in her dark eyes “I’m not leaving you. I like you. Maybe even a little more than I should…” your grip on her hand loosened a bit “Anyways, my point is I don’t want to stop spending time with you”

She felt her cheeks heat up a little at your words and at the look in your eyes. With Enid, you were the only one you ever fought to stay with her even though she pushed you away. Even though she put you in danger.

She liked you a lot, but it scared her; she wasn’t familiar with this feeling. Her only experience with love was what she saw with her parents -which she had always found disgusting. But maybe, maybe, with you it wouldn’t be disgusting. If you liked her back.

Because you said you liked her ‘more than you should’, but what did that mean exactly? It could mean a lot of things. And Wednesday didn’t feel like just asking you, it would be awkward.

But if you liked her back and she didn’t do anything there was a chance you’d fall in love with someone else, believing she didn’t like you. She did like you. And the thought of anyone else having you made her crazy.

You were still holding her hand. Your warmth was comforting.

She decided it was time to make a move and intertwined her fingers with yours.

Her action surprised you, to say the least. Your gaze was fixated on your linked hands, processing what just happened. After a second, you felt your cheeks burn.

“D-do you um… Do you want to go out with me someday…? Like for a coffee, or go to the library or anything else you’d like” you asked hesitantly

“Are you suggesting a date?”

Your cheeks heat up again at her words.

“Y-yeah… I mean if you want…”

Wednesday stayed silent for a second before cracking a little smile.

“I’ll pick you up at 4 tomorrow”

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