#my fingers are itching to write something

[gyodragon]

POST GRIFFITH TORTURE RENASSIANCE!!! i keep staring at your art of griffith's broken stare with the bandages wrapped across his face and his emaciated little corpse beside guts...

I read this ao3 fic about his struggle with recovery in an aftermath where he doesn't go apeshit. *offers it to you gently* https://archiveofourown.org/works/609721

it made me think, as a certified griffith expert, what do you think his recovery may have looked like? could anything possibly have still made him happy after all of that... or at least minorly not-miserable? what kinds of things do you think he'd enjoy in such a state?

would he even try to grow out his hair?

The Renaissance that really constricts our hearts!! I remember when first learning Berserk, it was the transformation Griffith has after the torture that got its hooks into me and compelled me to read the series. The rest is history. Thank you so much btw! I've only drawn him a few times but it feels like more in my heart. Thank you for sending that fic my way! (I'm super into gen fic and that is a good one) *Certified Griffith Expert* AHH! That's sweet! I'd like a badge or something after this long LOL. First off, this ask has given me SUCH AN ITCH to pick 'Iron Hawk' back up (my fan project about Griffith being rescued from the Tower early and the aftermath of that. It's my baby) I'm thinking about maybe using a different, more sustainable format by writing multi-chapter fanfiction with accompanying illustrations. But I assume you mean a scenario about his recovery after the canon full year of torture. Interesting. I actually haven't put a ton of thought into that because, morbidly, I have a hard time imagining any outcome after that amount of trauma where he isn't doomed. So assuming this is a world in which he is able to make some progress in his recovery that allows him to regain some mobility and use of his hands, I could see a return of the bandit era. I could see Judeau with his ingenuity and the help of other Hawks working together to fashion him a kind of wheelchair. A Merlin chair wouldn't fit with the time period but you get the idea! Maybe he eventually uses a cane and back brace. He grows his hair out but it never comes back as thick or as long. He shows his face again but rotates a collection of partial porcelain masks to cover the worst of his scars. If his hands heal enough, he learns sign language, writes with the tip of his finger in people's palms and writes with a large pen or quill. (edit: I've recently been totally swayed by your post about him relearning to speak and whispering to his trusted inner circle. I'm SOLD) I think his band would continue to whittle down until only the most loyal remained. The core members who would inevitably transform back into his friends. He used to protect himself from 'friends' with compartmentalization when they were among the thousands of Hawks under his command. I think that Griffith's life during recovery would be hell but he could find happiness in his inner circle reducing to a small group. Like when he was a kid. I think with the deterioration of his body, it could be possible that his mind goes into overdrive. The frail, mute, mysterious general who is even more of a political/military genius. No more White Hawk. He is just 'Griffith' or 'General' or 'The prisoner'. After enough banditry and roaming, the group reclaims a comfortable position in a land away from political enemies. Griffith gives up on his dream and focuses on fulfilling the promise of his vision to just these few people. He is even able to preform Robin Hood-like feats in the countryside. Outlaw goodness, that sort of thing. He doesn't retire himself though. I have a dark outlook. I think he probably satisfies himself with this twilight campaign, sees his remaining friends in positions of security and wealth and when all is said and done he eventually claims his own life. I think Guts is the last one with him when he is finally finished.

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 23 - Possession

Posession (noun) 1. The state of having, owning, or controlling something 2. Control or occupancy of property without regard to ownership 3. Domination by something (i.e. an evil spirit, a passion, or an idea)

Words from the Author: Hello my lovelies. It is kinda becoming my new tag-line, but: I know it's been a while. I've been, as some of you know, in a real crisis since November last year - wondering if what I wrote was good enough, what type of writer I am, if I should even call it quits. Thankfully, a lot of you guys came together in an explosion of love and support, piecing my shattered confidence back together again. I am truly grateful to have so many lovely friends that tell me that I am enough, no matter how many words I write or how frequently I post chapters. They were the fuel that relit the fire to create again and keep writing, and even though it's still not back to it's full blaze, the flames are being fanned and growing. So, on my birthday this year, I am very happy to give you guys a present instead of recieving one: The next chapter of Method. I dedicate it to anyone who, over the past months, visited my blog, left a comment, read what I wrote, sent me kind words in my dms, or just thought about something I created. It's all for you. Every word. And I will try me best to keep creating, to find my way back to the joy that is writing to me.

Warnings&Tags: Aftermath of SA, Depictions of displaced Anger, Projection of Anger, Hurt Attention: Apparently tumblr has a post word limit of 4097 (?!) so because of the lenght this chapter has to be broken up into 2 parts. You'll find the next part at the end of this post!

Pictures flashed before your eyes, memories of a life you once lived. Though the images were hazy and undecipherable– the feelings were all too vivid. Disgust. Guilt. Helplessness. Fear. But the most prominent of all, the one tainting every other feeling: Rage.

“Get your hands 𝕆𝔽𝔽 𝕄𝔼!”

The world became red and blurry before you heard a sound like splintering stone and two ruby red, glassy arms broke out of your chest with a force neither you nor the moth expected and shoved a screaming Valentino violently away from you. As soon as you were pushed out of the moths grip, the arms shattered into smoking ashes that drifted to the ground, and Ozul, catching your fall, wrapped himself around you like a suit of armor. He was burning hot, sizzling in what must be anger – close to the intensity you felt boiling inside. The moth stumbled back, all four of his hands pressed onto his chest, little wisps of fine smoke escaping through his fingers. Through the eerie silence you stared at the overlord, who – with wide eyes focused on the vanishing strings of charcoal vapor – slowly lifted them to reveal two blacked handprints on the voluminous tufts of fluff, the pink love hearts and white feather hairs burned off up to his purple skin.

“Well, look at that.” Valentino’s voice was ice cold, wrapped in a sham of blanketed casualty as his frown turned into a dangerous grin, “You are just a whole package of little surprises, eh? Not just sugar, but spice too, a full palette of flavors. I must say... I thought you'd be blander, amorcita. I underestimated your..." His eyes wandered behind you. You didn't dare to turn around, even if Ozul would let you. You wouldn't be able to hold your mask of indifference if you'd see what Alastor must look like right now, judging from the waves of painful static pulsing through the air. "... complex taste."

Valentino’s last words rolled off his lips as if it was something lewd and salacious, and it made your skin itch with repulsion knowing that they had been on yours. You felt humiliated and tainted, spoiled and stupid for having been so foolishly careless.

You were furious at him, and at yourself.

"And a taste is all it will be." Alastor’s voice remained calm, but it felt like a sharp edge of a knife as he spoke. He walked past you towards the gleaming moth demon, ordering Ozul wordlessly with a flick of his wrist and the shade grabbed you by your shoulders, already fraying on the edges as it hissed at the overlord. Ozul pushed you towards the corridor you came from, but you managed to throw a look back. Alastor came to a halt, just inches before Valentino, and even though he was taller than him, his presence was so intimidating you would've sworn the pompous, smug confidence of the moth demon crumbled before him. 

"But I’d advise against sampling another one — We wouldn't want a bitter aftertaste... after all, how would you notice the poison?"

***

“You got it all, Voxxy? Your little Retro Boytoy and his pet pussy in HD?”

Valentino plucked the blackened bits of his chest fluff off with sharp fingers, throwing Vox a nasty look. As soon as Alastor’s shadows had swallowed both of them he zapped himself through the cables into the studio, although not out of concern for his partner.

“What was that?” he just asked, ignoring the scowl Val sent his way as he nursed the burnt skin underneath the white feathery hairs. “These red arms, what did he do to…”

“Oh, me? I’m grand, baby, doesn’t hurt like a bitch at all thank you. Gillipollas. I don’t care what that was, she can count herself lucky I didn’t rip out her fucking tail for that. Me cago en todo lo que se menea!”

But Vox already turned his vision and hearing inwards, replaying the recording again and again in loop. Gem as they had called her – not Roxy or Rocky – reaching out her hand like a goddamn amateur in deal making. Val, playing into her naivety, doing what he does best and kissing that skank for the sheer fun of it, with her getting stiff and almost stone like in his arms. Red glow engulfing her before two red arms broke out of her ribcage, shimmering as if they were poured out of molten glass, just for a few seconds. Black dust settling in between the space created between them as they exploded into flames and ashes as they pushed Valentino off of her.

He rewinded again, this time focusing solely on Alastor’s distorted face as it happened – he still kept this stupid static shield up so he would be blurry and frazzling on recordings, knowing all too well that there were more than just the pimps eyes to be weary of in the Vee Tower. But Vox was accustomed to that and he learned (and programmed himself) to see in between the frames, watching and analyzing the hints of the overlord’s recognizable expressions. Shock and… Jealousy.

He felt ice cold as the bluescreen hit him, sudden and quick before he caught himself again. Before Valentino saw.

Alastor had been jealous, no doubt, and it ate at Vox. Alastor had no business looking like that. He was beneath that feeling, incapable. Had been, for forever. Some things could change in hell, but not this. This could never. Not for that worthless excuse of a soul. And not him. Never him. Alastor, who told him eons ago that he never felt anything more than mild appreciation for companions. Alastor, who kept everyone he encountered in hell at least at arm’s length. Alastor, who deemed everyone unworthy of more than thinly veiled insults wrapped in alluring charm. Until Vox. Vox was the first exception. The only exception.

Friendship .

He had been Alastor’s first friend. The only real friend – not like that cannibal tramp that came after him, worming her way into Alastor’s life after their fallout. Vox knew for a fact that after him, Alastor never shared so much of himself with another sinner. Memories. Dreams. Weaknesses. Feelings. Feelings…

“Are you listening, Amorcito, or do you need a wank to get that red wimp out of your system long enough to go on with the plan?”

Vox turned around, keeping his face straight and his boiling anger hidden. In a few hours, when Val was back with his whores on set, and his shows were done for today, he’d have enough time to fight through the storm of rage he felt. He’d have to keep his composure for now – lest not to spoil what he wanted to do – and keep his partner in crime happy and distracted. He spent too much time on his jovial, indifferent image of a cool-headed, slick CEO that hates Alastor to his core (and of being totally over him) now and he knew just what would distract Valentino enough to keep his dull mind off of his long-lingering envy.

“Oh please, Val. Who needs him when I got someone so much better to keep my dick warm and my bank account stuffed?”

The moth pimp’s frown sat a moment too long on his face for Vox not to notice. His expression was measuring, calculating…. scanning. But then it became what Vox wanted to see: A grinning face with hungry eyes and nothing of worth behind them but lust.

“Charming, baby. What a coincidence I am that this little power play got me in just the right mood…” Vox was already on his way to the back room where Val kept one of his many massive, fuck-friendly chaise-longs he so loved to use when he froze as he heard the tone in his  nearing partners voice change. There was a hint of malicious teasing behind it, a mock that was too prominent not to hear. Intent to impale him.

“I do admit that that bitch has one thing going for her even I can’t deny – her taste truly makes anyone wanna fuck her...”

Valentino passed him, his hips swaying as he threw him a taunting look and disappeared into the red-tinted room.

***

Alastor hadn’t bothered with taking the same way back to the hotel.

His last composure was hanging on a thread as he let his shadows drag you behind him, out of the pink room into the now empty corridor, and wordlessly melted into his shadows, Ozul pulling you into the black void right after him. You thought you could see Angel’s worried face at the end of it, near the elevator and hunched over the little robotic imp, but only a heartbeat later you were back in the hotel, safe in your room and dizzy from the abnormal speed of the shadow-travel. Ozul softly brushed over the red thread on your finger as he unwrapped himself from you, hesitantly returning to his master who didn't even look at you.

He hadn't looked at you at all. Hadn't even touched you since Valentino's assaulting kiss. A lump in your throat made it hard to speak up.

“Alastor, I’m sor…”

"ɨ ɖօռ'ȶ աǟռȶ ȶօ ɦɛǟʀ   cv   ǟ աօʀɖ." (I don’t want to hear a word) He stood, his back to you, next to your dresser, one hand on the polished wooden top and you didn’t know whether to be grateful or scared not to see his face. His voice was enough to make your eyes sting with tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

“You were foolish. Foolish and Careless, to let yourself be…”

A sudden sharp crack cutting through the silence of the room made you flinch. With a harsh breath his claws dug into the drawer, cracking the wood underneath the lacquered layer and splinters slowly fell to the ground.

Before you could think about what to reply or how to feel, he whipped around. Still not looking at you, his claws wrapped painfully around your wrist and he pulled you almost violently with him into your bathroom, shutting the door with bang so hard the hinges ached.

For the first time since you were under his care, you wanted to pull your hand out of his grasp. Guilt and hurt replaced the confusion you felt. Guilt because you knew he was right - you had been too careless, too confident and in dismissing all the warning s your studies back in Alastor’s townhouse and in the conversation you had with him before going to Valentino.

Hurt because it felt like he treated you as if you wanted it to happen. As if you voluntarily invited these foreign and revolting lips and hands on you. As if you felt nothing as another man violated you in such a profound way.

Caged in your thoughts and your lips sealed by his angered command you didn't see Ozul angrily hiss at Alastor as he roughly turned you around and pulled the shower curtain away. He pushed you into the small space, his eyes hidden by the shadow of his fringe and turned on the faucet. Cold water hit your back and you gasped as it drenched your clothes. Instinctively you tried to jump away, but strong hands held you in place.

"You reek of that wretch."

With wide eyes you watched his swirl of shadow minions hand him your soap bottle, and it stung in much more ways than one that he poured it all in a gush over you. You suppressed the sob sitting in your throat, choked by the scent of sandalwood, his cold command and the injustice of it all.

It felt like being punished for something that was committed not by you, but upon you, as Alastor emptied soap bottle after soap bottle over you, holding you under the streaming shower. Your tail went between your legs as you shivered, and even though it slowly began to warm up the frigid water quickly took away any warmth you contained as he feverishly rubbed any- and everything his shadows handed him on you.

His claws began to tear on the fabrics of your cloth that clung on you like a second skin, his movements more and more frenetic by the second. You didn’t know when your tears mixed with the drops of water running steadily down your face, but when you felt your skin give in under the force of his hands, you couldn't hold your broken voice back anymore.

"Stop. Alastor, please stop..."

In an instant, his movements ceased.

The dripping stream of water was deafening as you and him stayed still, his hands firmly holding your shivering form in place on your arms, his own hair and suit soaked and dripping, his face turned to the ground. The sharpness of his fingers around your bruised arms was gone, as if the little word stop had been a needle, popping the balloon of his anger and mania. He wasn’t keeping you in place anymore, but more so holding onto you.

“Maybe I’ve been too harsh…”

The hand that held you so forcefully before came to gently wipe streaks of soap and tears from your cheek. You shivered at the touch, wary if pain or pleasure would follow, and the thought of even anticipating the first shocked you. Through the soaked red bangs you could see his eyes searching for you, and when they found your own, your heart stopped beating when you saw only conflict in them.

“I just am...” , he started, his fingers coming to a rest at your neck, right over the place where – still hidden by your wet blouse – your scar sat. After a long moment, something in him had decided as he broke the contact of your gaze with dull, darkened eyes and his head sank again. “…I am not fond of others playing with my toys.”

Just before a couple of loud bangs made his and your head snap towards the door.

Another set of knocks, louder and more made you move. Hesitantly, you pulled yourself out of Alastor’s grasp, and with a last, unsure look at his hunched figure under the stream, you quickly turned around, wiping your face as best as you could and murmured “I’ll be right back.” Before you hurriedly slipped out of the bathroom and clicked the door shut. The mirror on the dresser next to the door showed a messy version of yourself. You took a few steps towards it, soaking the carpet with your dripping clothes and hair, but that wasn’t what captured your gaze.

No, it was your eyes. Never before had you seen them being so blue. And for whatever reason, seeing them shift from sky blue to indigo and back scared you. The banging on the door ripped you out of your trance and with a heavy heart, you opened it, trying your best to get a hold on your expression.

“What did ‘ya do?!”

Angel heaved, out of breath and looking almost as disheveled as yourself. It was obvious he had been running, and given the short amount of time he must’ve raced back home from the studios like the devil was behind him.

“Angel, listen, I…”

“NO! WHAT DID ‘YA DO?!” He grabbed you by your collar, ignoring the wetness seeping through his gloves. “A deal?! With Valentino?! Are you stupid – I mean, god-fuckin’-damn it, are you really that dumb?!” His hands trembled against your chest as he visibly restrained himself from shaking you. “It’s not like that, Angel. It’s nothing like your deal, just a performance…” Angel groaned as he shoved you away, burying his hands in his hair in exasperation. “It’s never just a “performance” with Valentino, Rocky! And I would’ve never brought ‘ya there If I knew you would make a fucking deal with him. For fucks sake, I thought at least Alastor woulda stop ‘ya – and for WHAT, huh? A stupid, dumb-ass dance that no one cares about at a fucking dumpster fire of a talent show?”

You felt punched in the gut – Angel had never talked about the event that derogatory, had been excited… hesitant and doubtful at first, yes, but he came around. Had fun in planning it, in rehearsing his act, in putting in the effort with you. There had been hope in his eyes, the prospect of becvoming something bigger than what he saw in himself. You would’ve understood worry, maybe a little anger… but not this. Why was he so enraged?

“What do you… Of course everyone cares. I care about it, Ange, please, I just wanted…”

“Ta’ help, yeah – that’s your fucking problem. Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, meddling in my fucking life when no one asked you to, least me. Yeah… You really took some lessons from Smiles, Rocky… but ‘ya know what?”

Angel turned his back to you, pulling the door with him as he exited your room. He stopped and tilted his head, not really looking at you, almost as if he didn’t care whether you were listening or not.   “I - don’t - care - about that stupid event. I won’t waste my time dancing for it – so if ‘ya don’t go and cancel that deal yourself, Imma go to that fucking deer prick and make him cancel it for you. One way or the other – keep your ‘good intentions’ to ‘yaself from now on.”

Stunned and devastated you watched the door close with a final bang.

What the hell happened? How could everything go so wrong, when you just wanted to do a right thing?

Shaken by Angels words, you brushed some of the semi-dry strands of hair out of your face, noticing how your fingertips felt cold against the heat of your cheeks and your itching eyelids. Breathing felt like a labor that hurt as it took effort. Grabbing the dresser for some sort of halt, you remembered who you left in your bathroom, and you stumbled to the door, not knowing what you’d find once you opened it.

Nothing.

Alastor, along with his shadows had vanished, and the shower streamed into an empty tub. Not even Ozul hung back, and the emptiness felt like a lead chain on your chest. You didn’t have the chance to take the few steps to the faucet to turn off the water as your knees gave in, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself cry in thick, heavy sobs, and besides the endless sadness you felt you were grateful that their sounds were swallowed by the rustling of the water.

>> Here you'll find Part 2 <<

[spicyspiders]

was looking at these of hugh jackman kissing rafael casal in bad education and i noticed at the beginning of the second gif there's a string of spit connecting their mouths. do with that information what you will.

[zazima]

the sirius&harry tag on ao3 ain't hitting like it used to can someone drop a banger pls

[jichanxo]

date outfit kitakata save me......... save me....

[userlando]

y’all gotta tell me if this is a fic worth writing: reader having a shitty love life where she’s basically inexperienced and haven’t really made herself ~finish bc she’s struggling and she talks to lando about it so he’s like very invested, buys her toys to try and rate and when it’s not working he’s all “>:( fine I’ll do it then” as if he’s not secretly desperate to get into bed with his best friend

[theflyingfeeling]

#like the cute olli/allu one i imagined last night while listening to a raging storm outside 🥺

hiii, would you mind sharing this? 🥺💕 i love your ollli/allu headcanons and ship thoughts 👉👈💕

thanks for asking!! 🥰

I was just thinking of an AU in which everything is the same except Olli and Allu live in the same city (i.e. Helsinki), and they often hang out at Aleksi's studio to make music together (or to just talk <3). One evening when they have scheduled another hangout, the weather is absolutely horrifying with pouring rain and raging wind, so Aleksi assumes Olli's gonna cancel (he doesn't have a car and religiously prefers his bike over public transportation), but then Olli shows up at his door completely drenched, yet a smile on his face because he's so happy to see Allu and to finally be there after his journey (he couldn't ride his bike properly because he could barely move forward upwind). Aleksi then has to lend him some dry clothes and wrap him up in a blanket and give him something warm to drink, and as Olli is sitting on his studio couch sipping on some tea his cheeks an adorable shade of pink, Aleksi has a ✨ realisation ✨ ...🥺

(were Olli's cheeks pink because of the strenuous exercise, or because of the fact that he was so completely soaked that he had to borrow everything from Aleksi, including underwear...? 😳)

I had another idea related to the same/similar AU today, this time about the two of them just practically spending every evening together at Aleksi's studio and growing closer day by day, also physically. One time they almost kiss but they snap out of it, the next day they kiss a little but they still laugh it off and Olli makes his exit sort of hastily, the next day they kiss a little bit more (by then they're maybe looking forward to the prospect of kissing rather than making music), until idk how many days in they start making out practically at the door already. Also included in this scenario is Olli ending up stradling Aleksi on his studio chair as they take a break to snog the heck out of each other (cue some "accidental" boners 😌)

[souenkun]

I changed the plot of my aokabu fic not even halfway into my first attempt, and I'm still mourning the fact that I couldn't include these two paragraphs in the new fic 🥲

Read my published aokabu fic here.

[jubshead]

I want to write, but I don't, bc I feel like it's not gonna be good enough, even though I know that I will only be good at it if I write

[deathfavor]

So we know Chrollo usually takes 2 legs with him when he disappears after the meetings, at least since Hisoka’s joined, and he changes up who it is and where they go. But he definitely goes solo as well. It’s very much different when he comes back from a short while being solo versus when he’s with 2 or a small group. Because with others around they can help - like we know Chrollo tends to get lost in his thoughts or books , but the fact he doesn’t really see himself as an individual outside of the spider, having them around helps keep a defined sense in the present. And also self care bc chrollo stop going out in the cold and rain without umbrellas. But when its just him WITHOUT a specific mission in mind, it definitely leads to a more pronounced look to the ghost-like aspect to him, a distance in his gaze. Thought it does quickly go away when reunited with others. Short times aren’t a big deal, or if he has a specific goal when he’s on his own that gives him focus, but extended periods on his own...that’s a bit of a different story.

[melotuzu]

can my schedule clear up already i NEED to write fic immediately i’m going to lose it

[finemealcreates]

If you asked Estelle, she would tell you she has no idea how it started. It was a lie, of course, she was the first worker who had encountered the ghost after all.

She had been going through her closing cleaning duties, listening to an audiobook on her headphones to help the time pass faster. A sudden chill had entered the room, causing her to shiver.

When she looked up, she spotted a boy there.

Confusion had filled her. Why was there a boy in this room? They've been closed for almost an hour, maybe someone missed him when doing a sweep to make sure all the guests had left?

She opened her mouth to say something, before she stopped.

The boy ... he was floating. He's laying down, almost touching the floor, but not quite. He's ... hovering.

Wait, she recognizes this boy. White hair? Black and white suit with a "D" on it? Isn't this that ghost boy ... Phantom the newspapers had talked about?

She had heard a mix of good and bad of the kid, but she had never encountered him before. Should she encounter him now?

Before she can decide to do anything, he looks up at her. He offers a small smile, it looking almost like a wince.

"Sorry," he says, "didn't mean to bother anyone."

"It's no bother," Estelle responds automatically, her customer service brain acting instinctually for her. "Just uhh ... do you mind hovering over there for a second? I haven't quite swept there yet."

Phantom nods, offering a smile as he floats over to the section she had already swept.

Wordlessly, Estelle moves and keeps sweeping, mind running faster than she can even process. She'll have to backup the book, she has no idea what's been happening and has apparently missed a crucial part.

Yet she can't even think about her book right now. What the hell is happening? Why is the ghost boy here? And he wasn't even doing anything bad! He was more polite than most of the guests Estelle had encountered today. And he's not causing any actual fuss. As long as her manager doesn't find out it should be fine?

"Alright, all done," Estelle eventually states, offering Phantom a smile.

He smiles back at her, going back to his original spot.

"Thanks," he says kindly to her.

"No problem. As long as you don't cause any messes or trouble for me to have to deal with, I don't mind," Estelle tells him. And she realizes that she means it. She doesn't get paid enough to make these decisions, so she won't.

His smile widens at her, and he extends a hand.

"Phantom," he introduces.

She takes his hand, resisting the urge to shiver at how cold his hand is.

"Estelle," she says back.

Phantom's smile widens to an impossible size.

"Nice to meet you Estelle."

+

Of course, none of her coworkers believe her. They all say she's crazy, that she made it up, and maybe she should catch up on rest.

She huffed, but she knew what she saw. They would meet Phantom or they wouldn't, but best not to push it.

However, she wouldn't have to. When she comes back after a couple days off, a bunch of her coworkers come up to her pressing her for details about Phantom.

"I thought you didn't believe me," Estelle snarks at them, putting her items away in her locker.

"That was until Danica and Astra also saw him!" Alex tells her, practically vibrating in place.

"He came back?" Estelle asks thoughtfully.

"Apparently! He was really nice, didn't cause any trouble. He's honestly a better guest than anyone else we get."

Estelle smiles at them as they head out onto the floor, heading towards their sections to begin their shifts.

"Welp, you should've believed me when I was talking about him originally," Estelle taunts with a slight smirk. "Told you guys I wasn't lying!"

+

And that's how it begun. Phantom didn't come every night, but he came most nights. He was nice, would chat with them to help pass time. Hell, even Estelle's managers loved Phantom.

Sometimes Phantom would even help them out, even if he technically wasn't supposed to. No one knew if free labor counted for ghosts too, but Phantom would insist he was volunteering ergo it was fine for him to help.

Estelle and the rest also learned pretty quickly that Phantom loved to talk about space. Everything and anything space. He would talk to them about the latest discovering from NASA, explain in detail the different mythological stories about certain constellations, or even listen to them prattle on about space.

Point is, Phantom had slid his way into their lives.

More and more people began to want to work the evening shifts just to get a chance to talk to Phantom. Luckily, those with the evening shifts don't have to drastically change their schedules. Once or twice there'll be a day or two of a morning worker working in the evening, but it's mainly the same. Helps closing go faster, that way. Plus, if too many people find out about Phantom it could be dangerous.

Estelle had talked to Phantom once about why visits the planetarium so much.

"The obvious answer is I love space," Phantom teased. "But the other answer is so that I can relax. Being a ghost isn't always the safest thing to be in Amity, ya know?"

Estelle didn't know. But she made sure to spread the word to everyone about any potential threat to Phantom. Telling them what he admitted to her.

Perhaps that's why they were so prepared when one day, after closing, the doors were smashed open.

Heads turned as a strangely dressed couple with weird machines came strutting in.

"Where is Phantom? We know he's here! Our Fenton-tracker told us a ghost is here!" the man shouted out, brandishing a ... was that a bazooka?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Estelle spoke first, crossing her arms as she glared at them.

Of course, it was a lie. She had just been talking to Phantom not ten minutes ago, and she's almost positive he's still here.

"He must be hiding, we have to find him and capture him for everyone's safety!" the woman insisted, beginning to move forward determinedly.

Estelle blocked their path, doing her best to portray calm and sternness as she raised an eyebrow.

"If he's as dangerous as you say, wouldn't he already be causing destruction by now?" Estelle questioned.

"Yeah, we would have heard it if he was here to cause trouble," Alex pipes up, pretending to lean on her mop casually.

Estelle saw the action for what it was. Alex was prepared to hit them over the head with her mop. Estelle grabbed her own arms, wishing her broom wasn't out of reach. If anything, she'll punch them if she has to.

"If he's hiding you wouldn't see him," the woman argues.

"Yeah, but wouldn't there be cold spots or something?" Estelle retorts, rolling her eyes. "Lady we've been cleaning for over an hour. Been in every room in this place. There hasn't been any cold spots. Your machine must be malfunctioning."

The woman frowns, looking down at the machine. The man looks over her shoulder, also frowning.

"I could have sworn we calibrated it all correctly yesterday," the man comments, grabbing the machine out of the woman's hand.

He gives it a couple of shakes, pounding on it's side. In doing so, he accidentally breaks the thing.

"This girl must be right! If it was finished it wouldn't have fallen apart like that," the man says, oblivious to the fact that he was why it broke.

With a sigh, the woman looks away from the man and to Estelle.

"Feel free to send the bill to Fentonworks for the door, sorry for the inconvenience."

And with that, they're gone. Out of the planetarium as quickly as they had arrived.

Estelle shook her head, turning towards Alex, mouth open.

An oof escapes her as arms wrap around her.

"Thank you," Phantom whispers in her ear, squeezing her tight.

She smiles as she wraps her arms around him.

"Of course. You're our friend," Estelle tells him as she squeezes him back.

"I'm going to call Morgan and tell her what happened, perhaps we can get those two permanently banned from here," Alex says, already raising the phone to their ear.

Phantom shakes slightly in her arms, and Estelle realizes she can hear him crying slightly.

She squeezes him even tighter, rubbing his back and cradling his head with her hand.

"We're not gonna let anyone hurt you, Phantom. If you ever need help, you can come to us."

Phantom doesn't say anything, but she can feel him relax slightly in her arms.

Estelle meets Alex's eyes.

Just what the hell have those two done to him?

Guys, I need “people working at the planetarium having a good bond with Phantom because he goes there so often”! It’s mostly the people on night watch who get to see him. He goes to the planetarium for some peace and quiet, he usually just lays on the floor as if it’s the first break he’s had all day. Sometimes he talks with the staff, but it’s mostly him just casually haunting the place.

They eventually figure out that space is his obsession, and since he’s very polite and they don’t know just how important it is for a ghost’s health to indulge in their obsession, they have no problems with him being there. No one says a thing to any ghost hunters. Once, the Fentons came suspecting Phantom was there. They were right, but the workers teamed up to convince them it was a malfunction in their inventions.

Once they were gone, Phantom turned to the nearest one like they just saved him from death and hugged them. They were not released for a solid ten minutes.

[cynicalmusings]

i actually NEED to write for boothill and empath!reader again (was rereading some of the snippets and… not gonna lie the vibes are kind of on point with some of them) but i don’t know WHAT to write and it’s really, really frustrating

[theflyingfeeling]

After I read the asks yesterday I fell asleep almost immediately and had a dream Olli was struggling with something in his personal life and decided to get drunk in Vegas (or somewhere in the US) and Allu took care of him the whole night and of course they ended up cuddling on that bed (why is it so easy to imagine that 🤧😭) then Olli just started sobbing in Aleksi’s arms and Aleksi being completely oblivious wondered what’s up and then Olli confessed liking him 😭 not sure how it continued after that but I have a feeling there was a good ending 😌

Ohhhhhhhhh nooooooo not the sad drunken confessions!! 😭 Imagine Olli having finally realised he has feelings for Aleksi after that one night he stayed up looking for stupid ghost stories for Aleksi's stream, and so he'd been acting weird ever since the beginning their journey to the States, and Olli thinks he's being discreet and casual but of course Aleksi notices something's off and is sad because it seems Olli is avoiding him and he can't figure out why and it's even worse because he's been pining for Olli for goodness knows how long and literally just the other night he had finally come to terms with his feelings because he figured the feelings were mutual, but it seems they're not after all, if Olli's behaviour is anything to go by 😞

It only makes the situation weirder when Olli gets absolutely plastered at some coctail party hosted by a local radio station / record label they'r all attending; not in the happy kind of way he (accidentally) did in LA but in a much more desperate, sad kinda way, and indeed it's not like Olli at all to be so teary-eyed and miserable when he's drunk, so Aleksi really is clueless until, when helping Olli back to bed, Olli cries the shoulder of Aleksi's shirt wet and mumbles his apologies for ruining everything and making things weird and how Aleksi and everyone probably hate him now and will throw him out of the band because falling for a bandmate has always been a no-no and-- 😭

It takes Aleksi a while to calm Olli down enough to tell him that everything's okay, that no one's mad at him and that he hasn't ruined anything, quite the contrary. By the time it's Aleksi's turn to confess, he may be crying a bit too, because he really was so heartbroken over Olli for having ignored him for no good reason and thinking his crush was one-sided 😭 Olli's drunken brain is having a hard time understanding what Aleksi is trying to say to him, and anyway the alcohol and all the crying has made him so tired that he falls asleep on Aleksi sort of mid-confession, which, of course, keeps Aleksi awake all night because he's worried Olli may not remember a thing about their chat once he wakes up in the morning. And yes, Olli is slightly confused waking up pressed against Aleksi when his mission had been to stay as far away from him as he could without raising any suspicions, and then the events of the night before come back to him and he almost panics...right until he feels Aleksi's nose nudge gently against his 💗

[stunie]

ok so i hit 30 tags pretty early so i wanted to add extra thoughts under here i am SOOO SORRY OMFG ITS SO MUCH 😭😭 GOD

attempt 1 at reading - thoughts:

i love how you wrote the nervousness and hesitation of both reader and atsumu ): this relationship feels so genuine and realistic, like every thought is so real and complex and it all just plays out soooo vividly in my head. i can literally feel every single thing in MY SOUL. it got me holding my breath, my heart racing, my stomach churning

the kiss . the first kiss where mr suna interrupted . when i tell you i read it like this >//////< EXCEPT MY HAND WAS CLASPED SO TIGHTLY OVER MY MIUTH. oh my god the reaction i had. it really felt like a first kiss all over again, i was genuinely WARM and all blushy

attempt 2 at reading - thoughts:

i loved how u wrote out the tension again .. and your characterization for all of them ?? kita being all observant? osamu being all curious ?

the emotional rollercoaster i am on in this chapter is crazy. i took my first break after suna interrupted (the kiss killed me), and im taking my second break right after atsumu confesssd (i was killed a second time). i was irritated during the cafe bc WHY r u avoiding me, and then the next second i’m like squealing 😭 the way that u write yue !! the way that u write . i am such a mess right now give me another moment

attempt 3 at reading - thoughts:

holy shit this scene . the kissing ? THE AAY YOU DESCDIBED IT from the first kiss ?? this one made my stomach FLIP omfg .

oh god the neck kisses . the .. the everything . my left leg has goosebumps idk why it’s only my left leg am i okay yue ? am i okay what’s wrong with me

i have a little ways to go i’m almost done but i need yet another break holy shit i have been reduced to a dizzy lil mess what have i become

attempt 4 at reading - thoughts:

oh my god ): oh my god ): what am i even supposed to say here. i love how u wrote the smut part ?? it feels like actual love ? he is so sweet pls

osamu interrupting had me jolting upright BECAUSE SUNA FIRST NOW OSAMU ? is kita the next victim ?? poor baby

AGHHH THE ENDING IS SO CUTE i fr feel like im in an anime ): i feel so pretty and so lovely THIS WAS SO LOVELYYY TYSMMM YUE FOR WRITING THIS

v. MISUNDERSTANDINGS

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: vi. Epilogue: Sakura sweetness | series masterlist

synopsis: A drunken conversation with Atsumu leads to a cascade of events that has your mind practically exploding with endless questions, and with the way Atsumu has been acting, you want clear answers, and you’ll get them one way or another—even if it meant arguing in the twins’ shared apartment on a late Thursday afternoon.

chapter content warning: college au, mentions of alcohol use, intoxicated characters, cockblocker suna (rip), angst, hurt/comfort, awkward tension, atsumu & reader are dumbasses, arguing, light smut (mdni; nothing too explicit), nsfw, implied unprotected s*x, fluff towards the end yay, kita graduates from uni!, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, friends to lovers, not beta read.

word count: 6.1k

notes: AAACKKKK last chapter!! also happy 1 month to this series !! i’m surprised i got to finish this in less than 2 months lmao considering how slow i am w writing :< divider: cafekitsune.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?” 

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday. 

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’  What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it? 

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere. 

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!” 

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike. 

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?” —

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