#maikee-aki's

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

3 times Crowley stops the urge to kiss Azi(1+ when he doesn't)

Fandom: Good Omens

Chapters: 3/4 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: Suicide

Summary:

[Based on my Good Omens Reincarnation AU!]

A broken promise was left for Crowley

Chapter Three ✧ Stars ✧ Year 1957

Crowley met a boy at the orphanage he lives in.

Rumors flew around, some say the older kid was here because he disembodied his parents. Others say that he was thrown away here because of some crime. But it was all speculation, bullshit if Crowley has any say.

Crowley didn't believe those words even though others did. He had a gut feeling– either way he’d trust his gut more than the words of those bastards. He eyes one of the bullies who kept laughing at him from afar. He just gave them a stink eye and focused his attention on his food but then he noticed the infamous boy leaving the cafeteria, whilst others were throwing insults at him.

It's funny how comically tragic their life is, both orphaned at a young age and left to fend for yourself against these ferocious creatures who share the same face as them. 

He decides to follow the boy. It’s much better than to listen to their snickering and whines. 

They ended up at a bench near the cathedral. The boy, shocked as he realized someone had followed him, asks guardedly.

“What do you want.”

Crowley raises his hands, calming the boy down. “Not an enemy, I'm just the same as you. Those guys are dickwads.”

The boy’s demeanor slightly changed, but his guard was still up as he sat on the bench.

He lowered his hands and sat beside him. “Self righteous assholes amirite?”

“Tell me about it.” The boy sighs, getting more comfortable. “I didn’t do nothing to them, but they suddenly went up their ways and disturb me every single time. It's annoying.”

He nods. “I don’t get it as well. Most likely they were the one who spreaded rumors bout’ you.”

“Rumors?”

“Yea.” Crowley starts. “They say you murdered your parents, or that you were a criminal so your parents threw you here.” He heard the boy scoff.

“What a fantasy they have, lot of them.” He unwraps his sandwich.

“I know right? I remember them making rumors bout’ me burning my house down so my parents kicked me out.” Crowley recalls his first time here, it was not welcoming indeed.

“Gosh those bastards.” He angrily bites on his sandwich, offering some to Crowley. He declines and says he’s full.

“What’s your name, by the way?” The older boy asks.

“My name’s Charles, but my friends call me Crowley.”

“Crowley? What an odd nickname.” 

He playfully scoffs. “Okay mister perfectionist, what's yours then?”

“Mine’s Aziraphale.” He counters.

“Huh, like that angel?”

“You read the bible?” Aziraphale asks, curiosity filled his face.

“I mean, yea, why else would I know you’re named after an angel?”

“Huh.” He says with a small smile. “Never peg you’d even touch a bible.”

“Mate, we literally live in an orphanage funded by a church. Of course they do bible studies for kids.” He replies with a patronizing tone, in which Aziraphale laughs. 

Crowley couldn’t help but be infected by his laugh.

Without regard, they talked for long hours– too long in fact that a nun calls them in for cleaning time.

-

Crowley made a friend at the orphanage he lives in. They got along well. Too well perhaps.

His name is Aziraphale.

It's been, what, four years now since they’ve known each other.

They surprisingly have a lot of similarities– like how they don't like oysters, or that they both like reading– or that they both enjoyed wrecking havoc(though azi’s more tamer in Crowley’s humble opinion).  

He looks at the boy, who now looks older than they first met, and admires him.

The sun kissed his entire being, he sits there like a riveting painting of an angel. It’s fitting, just like his name. Him just staying there draws breath that he doesn't need, it serves as a reminder of how he can be so dangerously captivating. 

These thoughts confuse Crowley sometimes.

“Hey Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice whispered. They were both in Crowley’s room hanging out, yet the sound of his angel’s voice stilled the once welcomed silence.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask a probably intrusive question?”

Curious, Crowley agrees.

Nothing seemed wrong when it came to him.

He stays silent for a second. Taking a deep breath, he asks.

“How.. did you get here? What was the reason?”

Crowley didn’t expect that. Had he been waiting to ask that? No wonder his mood was a bit different today.

“Of course, it's alright if you don't answer– you don't have to feel pressured and—.” Seeing his silence, Aziraphale filled it with his excuses. 

He even thought it was cute.

“Angel, it's okay.” He replies.

“I’d be happy to answer that, no need to explain” He smiles, then continues.

“Well.. my parents died in an aircraft detonation, it was a horrific terrorist attack.” He fiddles with his fingers, ignoring the shock on his face.

“I was supposedly with them, but I kept whining how scary it was to be on air.” His brows knit, recalling memories he once buried. 

“Annoyed by my antics, they left me at my uncle’s house. I remember my mom saying she’ll bring me back a souvenir–” He pauses, but he can already see the sorrow on Aziraphale’s face without looking. “–guess their souvenir was their caskets.”He chuckles at his own dark joke. 

He stops for a second. He felt heavy in his heart to continue. 

He knew the time would come when it was finally his turn to open up– about what happened. He was happy that he could share it with someone who cares.

He tries not to let it affect him as he continues on. “Then that druggie excuse of an uncle couldn’t take care of me, s–so he sent me here in this hell.” He tries not to let any tear fall even though his voice was at the verge of collapsing. 

“Th—they, those bully bastards— once they knew why I was here, they started calling me a–” His voice no longer coherent, started stuttering out his well crafted answer– he was always prepared for this. 

A cold tear fell on his cheek, yet it was replaced by warm hands that wiped them away. As they kept streaming down, his angel delicately wiped them all– embracing him tight even with the agonizing grief kept stabbing the angel.

“You don't have to continue, I understand.”

With bated breaths, he lets out a raspy ‘thank you’

Aziraphale’s warm hands cradle him close, with him hugging tighter

That night, they got even closer than ever.

-

He learns that his angel loves stargazing.

“Angel angel angel.” He runs to his room excitedly. Spotting the boy sitting on his bed, he walks over to him.

“What.” Azi, who was in the middle of reading, asks– his gaze tears through Crowley with affection despite the annoyance in his voice.

“I found a spot! A perfect spot to stargaze!”

“Really?” He closes the book, his attention now pique. 

“Yes! But they say it's better to go there around August though.” He says dejectedly, sitting beside Aziraphale.

The older boy just chuckles as he pats his head.

“There, there. Don’t worry love, we have time—” Yet he contradicts his words right then and there with sudden rapid coughs. His brows knitted in pain as he held his throat, his coughs still uncontained.

“Angel? Are you al—” His sentence went offrail as fresh dotted patterns of red splattered on the lavender sheets, splashes of red that came from Aziraphale’s mouth.

He learns that day that they might not stargaze for a while.

“SISTER GRACE!” Crowley rushes out of their room, carrying Aziraphale in his arms. Dorm doors opened by his ruckus, but he couldn’t care less about their days. 

“SISTER GRACE, SISTER MARIE.”

The painful yells of a distraught young boy resounded, yet none of the bystanders cried for help with him.

What a cruel world indeed.

He pushes his way to the dean’s office, clocking everyone in the way.

-

Crowley met a boy at the orphanage he lives in. They got along well—very well if he might. His name is Aziraphale. His Angel.

But this friend of his is now lying in an unfamiliar bed, with tubes and IV fluids snaked around his unmoving body. 

He was isolated by a transparent barrier, a barrier so easy to destroy but so hard to do so.

They say it's influenza that struck him, with doctors saying that it's more prominent on kids than on adults to contract the virus.

They say it's a pandemic. They say it’s quite deadly. They warn him to stray far from his light as it may burn him in the process.

But Crowley couldn’t care less.

He brings the chair near the bed, much to Aziraphale’s dismay.

“What are you doing Crowley?” Aziraphale asks in a deadpan voice, voice too hoarse to talk. 

Aziraphale’s hair started to grow after that incident, and so did Crowley’s worry. They stayed here for so long yet not even proper medicine for his voice could cure his sickness.

“I’m not leaving you angel. I’m staying here.” He replies grudgingly, snuggling into his seat.

“You do know there’s a thing called ‘visiting hours’?”

“And do you know there’s this thing called ‘I dont give a fuck’?” He retorts. Aziraphale just lets out a rasp sigh as he sits up, facing Crowley.

In a worry, he stands up and almost moves the barrier. 

“What are you doing!? You should stay down! It might affect your health angel.”

“Same applies to me. With you here, you might get infected.” Crowley frowns. 

“So what? I’m still not leaving you.”

Aziraphale sighs once again as he lays back down, ignoring Crowley’s smug smile.

The silence came back once again. Crowley hated this somber feeling, it reminds him so much of his parent’s funeral.

Aziraphale, noticing his demeanor change, says. “Don’t be down Crowley. I’ll get better and we can see the stars as promised.”

He scoffs, but his eyes betray him. “Sure sure, just get better.” He says as he brings out a book to read.

Welcomed silence engulfed them once more, but on the look of azirapahle’s face– it seems he had more to say.

“Have I ever told you how I was abandoned?” Crowley looks up from his book, eyes shaking as he hears those words.

He had been curious, but he learned not to stick his nose in anyone’s business.

“No, you haven’t.”

Silence. 

It was always silence that accompanied both of them, yet none of them objected its presence.

“They found out I was gay.”

Silence was always their comfort friend, it knows when it's needed and knows when it doesn’t.

“They were ashamed of me.”

Sometimes, silence was more than of an enough answer– but sometimes it isn’t

“As a born and raised Catholic, I was their greatest shame. They cursed and ridiculed me, their own son.” Aziraphale clutches the sheets, trembling slightly from his own words.

“They didn’t just abandon me. They disowned and marked me dead– to never come back to them.” He shakily breathes in. “From the start, I was always the disappointment. It was so easy for them to do this since it was like they planned it from the start.”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley for comfort, but all he saw was his blank expression staring back at him.

Silence didn't quite fit them.

-

Crowley knows someone at the orphanage he lives in. His name is Aziraphale. 

“Time of death, July 31st, 12:01 am.”

He’s someone dear to him.

The Doctor pulls the sheets up, forever covering his face.

He wanted to stop him. Ask him why put such a cloth over his face, but he knew better.

Somber as the lights, his light fades darker.

The world spins for a bit, his eyes disorienting him.

“Fuck.” He mutters, clenching his hair hard. The nurse advised him to stop, but all he can hear was whispers– shouts and noises he couldn't explain– visions he couldn't comprehend. iT was all static– then he was bombarded with remnants of familiar things.

Everything all at once came flooding in.

He remembers.

He finally got his memories back, but he was so fucking late.

He remembers dying, around the same time a long time ago. It was an accident really, a nice accident. He never expected to meet his angel this early on though.

As the headache subsided, every thought in his mind became clear.

That night, the hospital room heard the echoes of anguish from a boy whose mind juvenile yet soul old.

A night to forever mark his regrets.

-

Crowley knew a person– loved that person. And they did the same back, but more impactful than Crowley could ever be. More than what Crowley is.

His name is Aziraphale. His angel. 

He walks by the cliffside, with a letter in hand. His strides never stopping as he leaps through the safety barriers. 

He stopped a few steps once he felt the strong seawater air touch his face.

He leers down, the crashing waves felt so melodious in his ears right now. It pulls him, he wants to get closer to the waves.

Step.

After the fire from a lifetime ago, he wonders how it’d feel being hugged in cold through death. Fire hurts, it burns. 

Step.

It was a good thing he was an orphan. No attachments to this life, nor would anyone find him.

Step.

He confirms the letter once more, looking at the contents. He then places down, puts a rock above it. 

Step. 

He wished that he and Aziraphale came here to watch the stars, now it’ll be such a bitter memory for him.

Step.

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

i want one

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

3 times Crowley stops the urge to kiss Azi(1+ when he doesn't)

Fandom: Good Omens

Chapter: 1/4 Next Chapter

Summary:

[Based on my Good Omens Reincarnation AU! This will be a little compilation of ficlets showcasing the different timelines where Crowley and Azi meet. The actual fanfic won't be posted yet as of now.]

Aziraphale asks Crowley for a favor, in return makes him go all PTSD for about a second.

Chapter One ✧ Cleaning with love ✧ Year 2023(Present Time)

“Why in such a hurry, angel?” the man with sunglasses asked, eyeing down the gentleman buttoning up his sleeves in a hurry.

“Oh Crowley love, don’t be down. I promise we’ll have breakfast tomorrow.” With those pleading eyes that his angel uses against him, how could he ever refuse his words? But with a sulk, he just nods. 

“By the way Crowley, can you help me at the bookshop later?” Aziraphale asked, fixing his bow tie by the mirror. Crowley just watches him do his daily routine, so serene and quiet. 

He hopes to himself that this would last

Rejuvenated by knowing they’ll hang out later, he quickly replies. “Sure, I don’t have anything scheduled today.” 

With a smile— Oh how Crowley loves his warm yet mischievous grin, he picks up his messenger bag and gives Crowley a peck as he left. 

He agreed to his simple request, it wasn’t a biggie. He can always reschedule his board meeting tomorrow. His angel always comes first. Definitely not because he was clingy. Definitely not.

He touches his cheek, still feeling the fleeting caress of his soft lips. It was a scoop of something he always craved, and now within the boundless time right now– he can enjoy it. 

“Cancel our meeting later, I had a sudden appointment.” Crowley says to the phone as he picks out a nice leather jacket.

He wonders what would be urgent that his angel needed his helping hands?

He shuts the closet doors, sprawling the jacket over the bed. “But sir, this is an annual board—”

“Cancel.” He says with finality, not leaving any room to argue. The employee on the other end sighs in resignation. 

The call ends with him victorious.

He should probably give him a raise. He notes that in his notes app.

-

Now he’s at the bookshop, holding various dusters and an apron.

“Here, take this as well.” With his signature smile, Aziraphale hands him the broom.

Scam— my angel scammed me. He thought as he arranged the clattered books, stacking them up.

And here he thought–

His thoughts were cut off when he hears a disgruntled yelp.

“Ouch!”

He’d recognise that whine anywhere.

Dropping everything in hand, he quickly runs to Aziraphale’s side with worry plastered on his face. Putting his hand to the side of his face, he questions. “What the matter, angel?” 

Aziraphale’s face winced in pain as he rubs his head, saying. “A stray book fell off.” 

Crowley looks at the assailant, and notices a lot of books weren’t placed correctly—with some barely even inserted. He also notices how slightly shaky the shelf is.

How old is this thing?

He returns his gaze to Aziraphale, who was still talking.

“The fricking spine directly hit my head—"  

But before he could even finish his sentence, it was like the books wanted to fight them because every single book on the shelf started to fall.

Without any thought, Crowley instantly shielded his angel from the books as they descended with such drama, some even pried open mid flight. 

Why are these books so heavy!? 

It hits him square on his upper back. With a grunt, he tries to flex his arms. 

One minute they were dusting the shelves and arranging books, next thing he got Aziraphale pinned between his arms, protecting him from falling books of all things.

What an unlucky day, though– at least he was here and those books didn’t topple his angel.

He realized something.

What if he didn’t came? What if he continued the board meeting? Would he find Aziraphale all bloodied up with a cracked open skull?

He didn’t even want to think about that possibility. 

He got reminded yet again of the memories, of times when he let his guard down just for a second.

That could’ve happened now if he wasn’t so absent minded!

Aziraphale, noticing him tremble, asked worriedly. “Crowley– love? Did the books hit you hard?”

He remembers the trembling face of his angel trapped underneath the rubble. He remembers the fire painfully licking his skin, remembers reaching out and clutching pul–

He felt gentle hands cradling his face. Ones so warm and affectionately sweet. Ones that he recognizes.

Snapping back to reality, he makes eye contact with his angel. He also realizes how close their faces are to each other.

“Are you back, my love?” Aziraphale asks.

Slowly, the two faces of the Aziraphale in his memories and his reality merged– reminding him that it was all past.

He stops the urge to kiss him, because right now he has unholy thoughts that he would not like to divulge in this awkward moment. 

“Yes, thanks angel.” He says– albeit blushing– as he mirrors him, caressing his face as he lets his forehead touch his.

“Thank you so much.”

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

squid game 457 AU where In-ho went into the games but instead for his wife its for his lover, Gi-hun✨✨

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

GOOD OMENS - Reincarnation AU

I have a idea where both Azi and Crowley are humans but reincarnated over and over again until they meet here in modern time as a bookshop owner/professor(Azi) and a planetarium director(Crowley)

Here's the kicker, Crowley remembers all of their lives and has to watch and remember how Azi dies each time. He thinks it's a curse to remember whilst his lover doesn't, that he did something to anger the Gods out here so he tries to get to the bottom of it but each time he does he either implicates himself or Azi—so he stopped looking for answers.

To make it easier to cope and to spend more time together, he finds Azi as early in his life as possible. He gets a bit possessive over time but isn't he always like that?

I'll prolly make a fic for this when I have time LOL

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

3 times Crowley stops the urge to kiss Azi(1+ where he doesn't) by Akihiro

Fandom: Good Omens

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: MCD & Implied Suicide

Summary:

“Crowley? What an odd nickname.” He playfully scoffs.“Okay mister perfectionist, what's yours then?” “Mine’s Aziraphale.” He counters. “Huh, like that angel?" “You read the bible?” Aziraphale asks, curiosity filled his face. “I mean, yea, why else would I know you’re named after an angel?” “Huh.” He says with a small smile. “Never peg you’d even touch a bible.”

—In a universe where everything is constant, Aziraphale is what keeps Crowley going.

ITS OUT ON AO3! PLEASE GIVE IT LOVE (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

Happy Valentines day!

As hearts day bloom in different forms, I give @topsyturvy-turtely this fic as my gift. I hope you enjoy this! I'm not good with fluff so I hope you like it (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

The Art of Loving Again by Akihiro for @topsyturvy-turtely

Rating: General Audiences

Fandom: Good Omens

Relationship: Aziraphale x Crowley

Word Count: 8k | Completed

Summary:

After a failed marriage and past grievances, Aziraphale decided to be done with love. But with an unexpected meeting with a guy at a supermarket, he thinks he might give love another chance.

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

Quiet dinners and bitter aftertastes

Angstpril 2025!! | Day 6: Holding back tears

Fandom: Squid Games

Relationships: Kang Saebyeok/Jiyeong

Ratings: Teens and Up Audiences

Summary:

She just wanted to have a nice conversation over dinner with Saebyeok—how’d it even turn from that to her smoking her sixth cigarette at Han river?

[This is under my (not)cafe dates universe + this scene is set in the future BUT it can be read as a standalone]

Tags: wlw, college au, GL, arguments, miscommunication, angst, dormmates

Silverware scraping on ceramic plates was the only thing distracting them from the tense silence. Even though no one spoke a word when they sat, it felt like both of them had an argument before eating.

The thing is, they didn’t— and Jiyeong hated this awkwardness.

The Gamja jorim she cooked suddenly didn’t feel all soft and juicy in her mouth, and quite frankly, she wanted to spit it on Sae-byeok’s plate just to get her attention away from her phone.

But she tells herself she’s an adult, and talking would (hopefully) suffice.

She puts down her fork and knocks on the table, a small attempt to get her attention.

The woman across just hums, not sparing an ounce of regard to her. Hell, even her rice needs a blanket for how cold it probably is now.

She accepts the hum without any comment, scrunching her eyes up with a smile.

“How’s your day been, honey?” She asks, picking up her fork once more. She waits for an answer whilst picking apart the eggrolls.

“It’s been fine.” Sae-byeok said, finally putting down her phone as she scooped herself dinner on her plate. 

She didn’t elaborate further, she just picked up her chopsticks and went back to her phone.

Her eyebrows twitched, scraping her fork once more. “Did professor Jang trash your research? I heard he’s very picky when it comes to topics.”

She saw Sae-byeok nod, picking her food. “Yea.”

Jiyeong sighs, clenching the tablecloth underneath her hands. With a forced smile, she continued on, filling in the suffocating blankness.

“I expected that, don’t worry though! I know Professor would love your topic.” She expressed, biting on the potato that slipped off her fork. “I remember your topic’s about preserving mother tongues. He’ll definitely approve of that.”

“Yea, he will.” Sae-byeok hums in agreement, her eyes never away from her phone.

She felt her forehead throbbing, and she hates the way her throat aches to say the words she wants– but she stomachs it.

“That reminds me,” Jiyeong pulls out a pamphlet, sliding it to Saebyeok’s side. “There’s a new restaurant down the block, let’s check it out tomorrow.” 

“Yea, okay.” Saebyeok takes a small bite, and drops her chopsticks after. Her hands cradle her phone once more, and Jiyeong wanted nothing more than to take it away and crush it with a bulldozer. The sound of her typing, and the small smile she adorned annoyed her so much.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” She finally asks, though she wished her tone was more harsher in contrast to her soft voice.

“Hmm?” She finally looks at her, her eyes with that pretty black– but she wanted to poke that confused stare more than anything. “Yeah, I heard you.”

“Then what did I say?” 

She pauses, finally putting down her phone.

“Something about a block?”

Jiyeong slams her fork down, glaring at the woman across the table.

Indignant, she exclaims with snark, “You weren’t even listening at all!”

Saebyeok sighs, giving her a patronising smile. 

“I’m sorry, Jiyeong-ah. I’ll listen this time.”

“No, fuck you.” She suddenly stands up, her chair toppling itself from the impact. “These past few weeks, it seems you don’t even care what I say.”

“Honey, what do you–”

“You never pay attention when I talk– you’re always out and busy, or when you’re at home it seems your phone’s your girlfriend!” Her voice trembled, but it clung onto the walls as the silence finally dissipated.

“Tell me, did I finally bore you? Am I not interesting as we first met?”

Saebyeok’s eyebrow scrunches up, an incredulous look plastered on her. “You’re being dramatic, how’d you even come to that conclusion?”

This softens her irritation, replacing it with slight guilt. 

She picks the skin of her hand, at a loss for words. Sure, she agrees it might be an over exaggeration, but that's how she feels!

“I–” She composes herself, she’s not really good with arguments. “It just feels like you don’t care–” A hand slams on the table, startling Jiyeong.

“Oh, so now I’m the bad guy? Well, forgive me for going to college and having to work part time. Sorry for being tired all the time and not having any energy to play with you.” Venom slowly started to crawl in her voice, but Jiyeong ignores that.

“It’s not that, please just listen–”

How did this conversation spiral to this? She just wanted to talk.

“How can I listen when all I hear is you bitching about me? You know I’m tired all the time, why can’t you understand that?”

The coldness of her voice pierced through her, moistening her eyes a bit.

She held back unwanted tears, returning her response with a glare.

“You’d think I’d whine like this just for funsies? I understand if you’re tired all the time, but having a simple conversation won’t drain whatever energy you’re trying to conserve.” She spat, walking away from the table. She reaches for her coat as she kicks her indoor slippers off her feet.

“Where are you going?” Saebyeok asks, exhaustion evident in her voice. She feels a bit guilty for that, but she’s tired too! She didn't even mean to make this conversation turn south– if she just answered properly and actually wanted to be with her, none of this would've happened.

Jiyeong picks up her keys, opening the front door. She hears Saebyeok ask again, but she’s too busy trying to hold back her tears and pride. 

With a tsk, she slams the door closed.

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

“We’re gonna be late.” Vince taps his foot impatiently. He looks at his watch with a sigh, he really doesn’t want an earful from their teacher this early. Should he call her again?

With a grumble, he unzips his back, fishing out his phone.

As he was about to reach his phone, the doors suddenly creaked open.

The door suddenly slammed against the walls, and there appeared the person he was waiting for looking at him with wide eyes.

Vince looked at his best friend with furrowed brows. He was about to berate her for being late but something caught his mouth.

He stared at his friend– there was something.. Different, something alien about her. 

He thinks he’s just lacking sleep, so he pulls her by her arm as they start speed walking.

“Girl, I was about to call you again. What took you so long?” He asks. Aki was never this late, especially on Mondays. “Did you shave your legs or something? You should’ve said so, cause’ now we’re late.”

He was expecting a classic snide reply, but what came out of her mouth left him perplexed.

“Yea, sorry bout’ that.” She said 

Huh, did his voice sound so serious? 

He slowed down his pace, letting go of her arm. “Nah, you’re good.” 

Why is her demeanor so peculiar today? Usually she’ll be over about her make up and complain about life, but today she’s awfully quiet.

The morning wind hits their face as they walk to the bus stop, no one spoke a word as the silence brewed over them.

“So uhm,” Vince suddenly breaks that silence. “Did you do the information literacy essay?” He breaks the silence with a prank, though Aki most likely knows they didn’t have an essay due today– he really wanted to break whatever ice Aki ate this morning

He keeps a cool face, aware of her face scrunching up as her thoughts wander. He already knows she’ll hit his shoulder along with a ‘we don’t have one, dumbass.’ reply.

“Uh, I finished it an hour ago.”

Vince looked at her oddly, but didn’t say anything as he nodded at her. Weird, did they actually have an essay?

He shooks himself out of those thoughts as they made it to the dimly lit bus stop.

They sat down on the vacant seats, with him pulling out his phone. He feels eyes staring at him from the side, but he ignores it as he opens up his notesapp.

“There’s no essay..” He mutters to himself. Trying to find any deadlines for today.

None.

“There’s no what?” Aki asks, a curious look on her face as she stares. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her grip her skirt as she tapped her foot in rhythm with his heartbeat. She tilted her head with a sweet smile, waiting for his reply.

“–No economics study for today, Haha.” He nervously puts his phone back in his bag. “I’m being forgetful lately, this is so not like me.”

She hums, that pervasive stare not leaving him. “It’s alright, I forgot too.” There was an edge to her voice, something misplaced about it that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. There was really something about her today, is she sick?

“Hey Vince, since we’re already late– why not get some coffee around the corner?”

His body stiffens at that. 

Aki doesn’t like coffee, she’s acidic. 

He stays calm, finally facing her. “Sure, I definitely don’t want to see Ms. Edwards’ grouchy face this early.”

Who the hell is this?

This is a WIP cuz I still couldn't think of a proper story direction for this one LOL anws special mention to @vinceisaswiftie cuz im using him as my main character here (⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~

Ion know when I'll finish this one so advance rip wip if I acc dont finish this (⁠*⁠﹏⁠*⁠;⁠)

Your “friend” has been replaced by a doppelgänger. You aren’t sure where it came from or what it is under the disguise. But you know one thing; you prefer it over the original.

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

Love Scout ramble

I finally got around to watch the show after my hectic(fucking loaded) schedule, and let me just say:

OMGGGG IM CURRENTLY IN THE MIDDLE OF EPISODE 3 AND ITS SO GOOD????

I mean I know it'll be good if my man Lee Jun-hyuk is there *tucks hair behind ear* but my god I was hooked

But like, so far its been so good. The pacing, the actors/actresses, the story. It's my cup of tea indeed

I didn't even know headhunters existed up until now, so that's a new fun fact!

The leading actress' acting has been fantastic so far, I might add her to my favs soon. AND their chemistry? Y'all if you watched me watching the show, I was smiling under by blankie and kicking my feet LMAO.

How's your experience with the show so far?

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

my friend's gift (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

sad they dont have tumblr so I can tag them

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

Listening to Taylor as I do my make up (⁠♡⁠ω⁠♡⁠ ⁠)⁠ ⁠~⁠♪

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

i practiced my vocab for writing yet I distrust my brain when i finally use it in a sentence😭

being a writer is constantly google the definitions of words you already know the meanings of because your brain's always paranoid and telling you maybe you've been using them wrong your entire life

I can excuse misusing words in my daily life but my mlm slow-burn enemies to lovers smut has to be perfect

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

OMG 海へ SUDDENLY PLAYED ON MY PLAYLIST— I GOT A SUDDEN WHIPLASH AND GOT FLOODED WITH MEMORIES OF THE LORE THAT I **HAD** TO PUT DOWN MY PHONE AND JUST **LISTEN**

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

Near the Rails by Akihiro

Summary: Tim was tired, and rightfully so. In the spur of the moment, he went to a random train station.

—an excerpt from my OC's life during his lows.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: Attempted Suicide

Northern and Waterloo and City Lines, and National Rail Services.

Tim breathes in the cold air, already feeling tired of the prickling ice that pinches every inch of his body. 

He wanted to go home, away from everything that stings. Everything was annoyingly loud, yet he’d rather have that than the loneliness of his dingly lit room.

This train terminates at Stanmore.

He lets out a strained sigh. He wasted his chance once again.

The boy watches the brightly dim lights from the corner of his eyes. The train arrives just in time, but he stood still in the frigid madness, watching people come in and out of the tube.

He wonders, if life for them is that vastly different from his. He thinks not— but at least they have the will to continue on, unlike him who’s still stuck like a discarded gum underneath a table.

The train leaves without much fanfare. He wishes it could carry him somewhere far, but he thinks he wouldn’t even step inside if he had the chance.

Alone in the station, he inched a bit too close to the tracks. It mocked him, as funny as it seems— he feels like if these train tracks had a mouth, they would. They bore in his irises, calling for him yet insulting him at the same time.

Why is he having this mental debate to a fucking rail?

Another sigh comes out of his mouth. What is he even doing here if he won’t do it?

He looks at the clock, another train will be here in a minute.

Ignoring every noise that battered his ears, he moves forward with confidence. Yet this confidence he finally mustered up dissipated the minute he heard the familiar and rapid footsteps. He wanted to believe that he must be too high, too scared to end it alone that he’s hearing things once again.

“TIM, WAIT—!” The woman pants, her eyes watery as she stood a few meters behind the boy.

Tim already knew who it was, and he curses his good hearing for that. 

The woman looks at the clouded silhouette of the boy she grew up with. Her tired breaths came to a halt once she regained her energy.

“Tim..” She starts, her wary eyes glued to his every being. “Tim, let’s talk.” He heard that far too many times.

He hated that phrase more than he thought.

“Talk? What's there to talk about?” He spat, his voice wavering, but he masks it quickly with anger. “I’m surprised you even want to talk.” 

The cold air hits his back, but he makes no move to turn around. He moves an inch too close to the rails and an inch farther to the woman.

With aggravated worry, she coaxed the boy to stop. 

“You’re being childish right now. Just come over here.”

“You’re awfully a lot like her right now, you know?” He snaps, a hysterical chuckle bubbles out. “I’m not six anymore, I’m not afraid of disobeying any of you.”

“Tim, you’re gonna get hit by a train.” She states as she crept closer to the boy.

“That’s obviously the plan— and stop, I can hear your footsteps.” She stops her steady pace, a strained smile on her face.

“Just, come here?” She pleas, her brows etched in worry.

The sound of the train neared them, the station rumbled alive once again. The beam lights slowly edged his peripheral with every breath he took. His hands are now a sweaty mess, but that didn’t stop the lightness of his feet as he crossed the yellow line.

“I saw the pills.” That stops him, frozen and in bathed breath.

With a look of betrayal, he finally turns around. He looked at his sister's eyes, those eyes felt closer to their mother than her own right now.

“Why would you? How dare you?” For the first time in his life, he shouts at her. He felt undisguised anger that snaps at his core as he stared at her—an emotion he didn’t expect its roots to come from his beloved sister.

“Out of all the people I trusted, why would you go through my things?” His eyes felt watery, he couldn’t control the cracks in his voice as he continued. “You know that box is personal—! You said it yourself, that you respected me as a person. You said..”

He bites on his lips as he stops the tears before it gains control over him.

“You said you wouldn’t be like her.” It came out as a whisper, but he knows she heard him loud and clear.

“I’m sorry Tim, but you’re worrying me— worrying us!” She said without breaking eye contact, though he wished she would. 

“Since when did they care for me— Oh I know!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands in faux laughter. “Is it because my grades started to plummet? Or is it when I finally snapped back at Dad?” He mocked with anger, waiting for her reply.

“You know they meant well.”

“Since when were you their attorney?” He scoffs. “You left the house the minute you became legal, and now you’re here parading that they meant well when it happened to you.”

The silence was deafening, but he can see the guilt ridden face of her sister. Once upon a time, he remembered that same look eleven years ago. 

The train leaves again, it leaves along the many chances of his demise stripped bare from arms reach.

He looks at the rear of the train, then back to his sister’s teary eyes with a sigh.

[akihiro-writes-stuff]

gotta send this to our catholic school's principal and see if she'll say shit again LOL

crowley