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gingerbreadmonsters · 2 years

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five more minutes

or: so, i start a revolution from my bed.

gn!reader, standard imperium warnings, angst that’s just a bit more bitter than sweet. i’m so sorry. heavily inspired by Not as nice as he was by @/The_Honey_Cy on ao3 - thank you for letting me put my bizarre little spin on your concept! everybody say thank you to rae @sri-rachaa for choosing our byline of the day, and i’m told that @morgansplace and @10000-angry-bees might also want to know what’s happening here… inspired by ‘i wish i knew how it would feel to be free’ by nina simone. vindemiator slipping inside the eye of his mind in 2400 words or less.

“I’ll find a way. Even if it’s just for a short, precious while. I will.”

Magic, they say, is simply the next step after emotion.

It makes sense. Feelings and magic, the inescapable cause and the inevitable conclusion. The cup runneth over, and the magic swirls forth. Flame, dreams, flesh. However small or weak or unknowable, in all things, the magic persists. It has a funny way of hanging around, of sticking to things it shouldn’t, of hiding itself in places where it shouldn’t belong. It has a funny way of knowing you. It has a funny way of showing it.

…No, that’s not right.

Maybe there’s a better way of putting it.

Demons, you see, are made of magic. They understand it instinctually, its ebb and flow, its push and pull. They’re weaved into the Spellsong, feeling every chord and harmony, feeling every tug at the web. Nothing is ever really alone. And so when little troublemakers try to have their fun, when they try to bend the rules for a little while - it doesn’t go unnoticed. Some things are worth fighting for. That all-consuming flood of magic that swept across the known reality, screeching and tearing and splintering. The whole world turned inside out, blood everywhere, spilling out across the universe. Foolish little creature. Did you really think nobody was watching?

The mirror can only handle so much. Six marble faces in the moonlight. Sometimes, things slip through the cracks.

“...Mm.”

What’s that sound?

It can’t be morning already - god, he really doesn’t want to get up. Especially not if there’s going to be noise. It’s not normally so loud that he can hear much from this godforsaken cell. Ugh, please don’t say Avior’s started arguing with one of the Enforcers already.

Although his eyes are closed, he can tell that it’s brighter than normal, too. Have they changed the brightness of the lights? Even more of a reason not to wake up. It’s not like there’s any sunlight in here, so it can’t be that - the window is only a few inches tall, right up by the ceiling, and you can’t even see the sky, let alone get any sunshine.

That’s funny. The mattress is softer than usual. What happened to that spring that always digs into his side? It’s always cold down here on the floor, too, where the draft seeps under the door - why is it so nice and warm? He could almost believe that-

Wait.

Is that breathing?

There’s someone here. His eyes snap open, a sharp inhale, power crackling and building beneath his skin in panic, but it’s no use. What is this? The magic fizzles out uselessly under his palms as he reels, sleep-heavy mind struggling to reconcile what must be true with what’s right in front of him.

It’s you, here in his arms where you belong, but not when you’re supposed to be. Your face against his chest, your arms draped around his waist, your legs entangled with his under the blanket where he can’t see. How are you here? Rewards for good behaviour be damned, you’d never be allowed to sleep here in the haven, ever - you’re monitored more closely than most, and there’d be Enforcers down here quicker than you could say ‘President Moore, please don’t kill me’.

You don’t seem to notice his confusion, thankfully, still slack and comfortably heavy against his body. He can feel you dreaming, the emotions soft and muffled against his senses. Happy dreams, it seems like. Sweet and kind and beautiful. Good. You deserve happy dreams.

He’s strayed a little bit from the matter at hand. Sorry, what were we talking about? Oh, yes, that’s it. Where the hell is he?

This must be an illusion. Vega must have got bored again. Avior must be trying to practice something for the plan. There’s no way this can be real.

It must be morning - soft sunlight peeks through the curtains when he turns his head towards the window, and he can hear birds outside, not too far away. How unusual. He didn’t think you could really get sunlight like that anymore. It’s so lovely and warm. The room itself looks like a fairly standard human bedroom, or at least what he imagines one would look like. Despite what you might expect, he’s not really been invited into one for a very long time.

It looks lived in, in a way that somehow makes his heart start to ache. Empty glasses of water on the bedside table, socks and books and headphones, a chair half-buried under clothes that haven’t been worn enough to be worth washing yet. A backpack hanging on the back of the door, a stack of textbooks on the desk. The wardrobe door is slightly open, and the wall on the left is covered in photographs. Him, his love, a handful of strangely-familiar faces. Kisses and birthdays and trips to the beach, nights so late they become mornings, the once-in-a-lifetime waves to the everyday. How does he know? All kinds of places and clothes and things to do, and every frozen face wears a brilliant smile.

A home, a proper one, a real one. Vindemiator wakes up, here in this most sacred of places, and it’s all he can do not to cry.

It’s an incredible illusion. Vega’s outdone himself. Every detail is perfect, immaculately disarrayed, masterfully created - even the Spellsong sounds… different. Lighter, livelier, happier. He doesn’t want to think about why. This world, what little part of it that exists in his mind, is not the same as the real one.

He’s thought of everything, even you. How would Vega even know you so well? Your face is mostly hidden, but from what he can feel, you’re almost exactly the same. The body he loves to know, and he knows it by heart. Breathing in, he nudges your aura with his own - perhaps Vega hasn’t got you quite right in this regard. You’re not so tense, not so jumpy, that undercurrent of fear that he’s used to soothing is all but gone. Here, in this place, you’re safe. Contentment and satisfaction and peace, sitting on his tongue, a mellow, pretty flavour he wishes he could get used to. Remind him to thank Vega when this is all over.

Speaking of things he’s not used to, what’s happened to his body?

This form. It feels…

Well, it’s not exactly the same as normal, but it’s close enough. The limbs are the same length, the teeth feel the same in the mouth, the shade of the skin is ever-so-familiar. It’s without doubt the form he coalesced in, same as ever, so why does it feel like there’s something different?

Huh. His horns are glamoured. That’s weird. How is that even possible? The wards over the haven don’t allow demons to change any parts of their physical bodies, even as part of an illusion like this one - some decree by that godforsaken air elemental maniac to stop anyone from ‘forgetting their true nature’. And to think they have the nerve to call this place a haven. Experimentally, he tries to relax the magic - and just like that, his horns flicker back into existence, familiar weight at his temples. Weirdly, they feel a little more balanced than normal, and when he reaches up to feel them he realises why. It’s still there. All of it. No splinters, no cracks, no dull ache in his skull.The left one is whole again, as if Kody and his god complex and his baseball bat and that awful, awful night had never even happened.

His horns, smooth and shiny and perfectly intact. Forget an illusion, this must be a dream. A lovely dream, to be sure. His horns. He’d almost forgotten what this felt like.

“...Hmm?”

Startled, he looks down as you groan into his shirt, clearly still half-asleep - he just about has the presence of mind to smooth his hand over your back, shushing you gently. Even here, where you’re not real, it doesn’t feel right to wake you up. You should be allowed to dream happily for a little bit longer.

“It’s alright, love. Go back to sleep.”

You protest, jumbled words falling out of your mouth, but you make no effort to move - instead, you relax back against him with an airy sigh. From here, you look a bit different than you normally do, and it takes him a while to place it. You look healthier - your hair a little shinier, your eyes a little brighter, your lips not so painfully chapped. Is this how you were supposed to look, before everything? Before the world thought to crush you under its heel, tried to grind you into powder, left the pieces of you out in the rain to rust? It’s not fair. What does he have to do to make this real?

His human deserves to live like this, he thinks. Back in the real world. Doused in sunlight, heavy with sleep in a bed that you own, face half-hidden in the pillows that you chose. Somewhere soft and warm and kind, where there are no sharp teeth and no cameras in the bathroom, where the scariest thing in your life is the sound of your alarm clock.

“Fine,” you concede. “But only if you stay.”

“Of course.” In a world like this, why would he ever want to leave? “I’ll always stay with you, my love.” It feels good to say it out loud. Here, he might even be able to make it true.

Your hazy brain seems to think that’s good enough, and before long you’re drifting off again. Have sweet dreams, beloved. If only he could join you. The corners of the world aren’t quite as sharp as they should be, the Spellsong on the edge of changing key, and he has the horrible feeling that if he goes to sleep you won’t be here any more.

Sleeping means waking up in a world where this isn’t real. Is this real? Could it ever be? Probably not. Reality has never been so kind to him.

He’s so tired.

He can hear your voice in his head, as clear as anything. Maybe this is a dream. Sleep, love. It’s okay. We have time.

Would you say that, if you knew? Maybe you wouldn’t, you’d hold onto him like he wants to hold onto you, like if he looks away for a moment you might turn to water in his arms, spilling helplessly out of his reach, soaking into his skin and his soul and the vanishing earth beneath you. Or maybe you would, you’d tuck him against your chest where neither of you can see the other cry, folding him into you like he’ll fit right through your ribs, and for a single, blissful moment, he’d be able to pretend that he believes you.

In your sleep, your arms tighten around his waist ever so slightly. Do you feel it? Do you know?

You have always wanted to protect him. Even here, even now, in a dream that will always have to disappear, you protect him still. Please, don’t do that. Can’t you see? You’re too strong. You’re too safe. He wants to hide behind you forever, shield himself from the world in the safety of your soft body, let your voice in his ear and your hand on his face be the only things he knows. Nothing else is real. Only you, just you, it’s only ever been you, and what then? Don’t indulge him, please. It’ll hurt too much when you have to let go.

He doesn’t want to go. Will you make him? Maybe you should. He’d do anything, if you asked.

Please. Wake up, my love. Save him, ask him, command him, and eternally you shall receive. Heaven and earth, sea and sky and fire, it shall be done. In this world, where he’s never failed you, make it true. Speak the words into reality, bend the universe to your will. Please. He’ll do anything. Make it true, make it true, make it true. Ask for the impossible, just once more, and know that he has never been able to resist you.

He kisses the top of your head, just once, and it will never be enough. The tears gather, but they don’t fall. He wouldn’t want to wake you. A tired mind struggles on, head spinning and spinning, the world folding in on itself until the whole, wonderful room is as dense as a star, until he’s crushed under its weight and the blackness takes over.

It might be hours or days until he wakes again, and it’s the grim inside of a haven holding cell that greets him.

It’s too much. He cries like the child he never was, endless, aching sobs as the wave crashes over him, the lonely demon mourning the loss of a world that was never his, that for all he knows has never existed. That place, that room. What does he have to give to make that real? Could it ever be his? Vindemiator and his human love - was there ever a world where they could have been happy? There must have been. You were made for more than this, for more than a broken, empty, bloodied incubus, for more than this place and these people and this dying, shattered world. Marble under moonlight. Don’t wake up. If you can’t see it, it’s not really there. Bring it back to him. Choked tears, closed eyes, rinsing away the ghost of a kiss that shouldn’t ever have happened.

You deserve more than this. Please, please. If it’s the last thing he ever does, if he has to tear himself to atoms to do it, dissolving into nothing, half-melted in the River. Reality is nothing to the determination of a demon with something to protect. Let him give this to you, and no being in existence will ever die happier.

It’s all he’ll ever do again. Love you, hold you, protect you, with all he has, with all he’ll ever be. You are his, and he is yours. Surely, that has to be enough.

A promise, made not for the first time. God, I never want to let you go. Perhaps it really is impossible to outrun your own nature. Vindemiator is no exception.

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this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted gavin #redacted vindemiator #redacted imperium #redacted freelancer #redacted angst #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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aycockcostello49 · 3 months

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Don't Let Fall Weather Keep You From Camping

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aeoki · 5 months

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Fist of the Shangri-la Idol - Movie Actor: Chapter 6

Location: Studio Characters: Touri, Hokuto, Makoto, Mao, Yuzuru, Eichi & Wataru Season: Spring

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< Ten or so minutes later. Next audition. >

Mao: Alright, then I’ll play the role of the “heroine’s childhood friend”!

(We weren’t given a script so we have no idea what kind of character they are, though…)

(Well, they’re probably saying we need to make a guess while we act it out.)

(Judging by the lines on the board, the “childhood friend” must be the protagonist’s rival in love!)

(They’re someone who gives the kung fu movie a sprinkle of romance – something that will make the audiences’ hearts race.)

“Hey… I’ve got something important I gotta tell you. Could I come over to your place after I’m done with work today?”

Touri: He sounds kinda gross.

Mao: Don’t say that, Touri! I feel pretty hurt hearing that from you for some reason…!

Wataru: No, giving off a gross vibe is correct. The character is a man who uses his position as the childhood friend to get closer to the heroine.

It’s not exactly elegant but he’s supposed to make the audience laugh with his awkward and ridiculous behaviour.

To think you were able to accurately grasp the character just from the name of the role and their short lines… One wouldn’t do well to underestimate your abilities, Mr “Jack of All Trades But Master of None”.

Mao: No no, I was actually trying to show my feelings of love for the heroine…!

Eichi: Is that the extent of your love for your childhood friend?

Mao: I don’t really understand but I don’t think I wanna hear that from you!

Yuzuru: Hehe. We still have other auditions to see, so New President-sama– I mean, Isara-sama, please exit the room. Thank you for your audition.

Mao: Uuu~... Okay, thanks.

I had a feeling it would be hard since I’m not used to auditions. It’s nice that I know the judges so it feels easier, but that still made me feel oddly nervous.

Eichi: Hehe. That’s what life is about – You should get used to it, “Student Council President” ♪

Hokuto: …It appears you’re all idly chatting but can I come in now?

Mao: Oh, you’re next, huh, Hokuto? I know you’ll probably be fine but do your best. This is surprisingly difficult.

Hokuto: Right. I’m aware, seeing as Hibiki-senpai is one of the judges, things aren’t bound to be simple.

He won’t be lenient when it comes to acting. I’ve been acting alongside him for a long time now, but I’ve hardly ever received any words of praise from him.

But that’s also why it makes me want to see his face light up in admiration.

Mao: That’s the spirit. Haha, you’re more motivated than usual, Hokuto. It made me realise once more that you have the blood of an actor running through your veins.

See ya later, good luck.

Hokuto: Right. I’ll do my best.

Eichi: Welcome. Hehe, the favourite has made an appearance. It’s time to test Wataru’s beloved disciple that he has personally brought up himself.

Wataru: Hehehe. You’ll make my heart race if you put it like that.

Alright, Hokuto-kun, please look at the board. Your role and the accompanying lines will be displayed there.

Oh, this is a difficult one! Your role is the “protagonist” and your lines are “to be decided”.

Hokuto: “To be decided…☆”

Wataru: Sorry to burst your bubble after that shout, but the words “to be decided” is not really your line, you see.

Eichi: It’s actually left blank in the script.

To tell the truth, the first draft of the movie script was only completed this morning. There are still blanks and other parts left unfinished.

It’ll be polished and refined into the complete script that will be used in the actual filming later on.

Wataru: Hehehe. Scripts tend to be revised during the production as situational changes crop up here and there.

The same can be said for stage plays, so I’m sure you already know that, Hokuto-kun.

Hokuto: It’s rare for the script to be revised on the day of the performance.

You used to add new things whenever you thought of them, but normally that’s not possible, right?

Well, nevermind. But what should I do? I wouldn’t have a clue even if you tell me to act it out without the lines. What is this supposed to be, a Buddhist riddle?

Wataru: Err, the context is finished, but it seems we’re missing the perfect lines capable of encapsulating the character.

This is the climax scene in the movie as well. The screenwriter must be looking for impactful lines that will leave a lasting effect on the audience.

The deadline came before the lines were created, so they decided to submit the script with the main character’s lines as “to be decided”. Or so it’s presumed.

Hokuto: Why would they send in a script that’s unfinished? That’s not very professional at all.

Wataru: To think of all people, it would be you to use that word.

Eichi: Hehe. This is what you’ll do.

We’ll tell you the setting for the scene as an exception, so come up with the appropriate lines as you deem fit.

No, please act it out. It’s a climatic scene that’s supposed to make the audience shed emotional tears.

Hokuto: Hmm. Alright. So this is improv. I do have experience so it should be possible.

Wataru: Hehehe. We sure did a lot of improv at the Yumenosaki Drama Club, didn’t we~? ♪

Hokuto: Indeed. Tomoya was surprisingly good at it. He could fully immerse himself into his role.

Wataru: While you were absolutely awful on the other hand. You weren’t flexible at all…

But I’d like to think that you, too, have grown after spending all those days at the Drama Club.

We’ll give you the setting now: Your dearest heroine has been kidnapped by your hateful rival and you’re here to take her back.

Hokuto: Understood.

Wataru: The poor heroine is in tears as she is stabbed with a knife and although you were calm the entire time, you let out your voice in a burst of rage for the first time there.

The protagonist then awakens his hidden powers and challenges his arch-enemy to a one-on-one battle in order to retrieve the heroine – to retrieve his love.

Please come up with suitable lines for that scene and act it out!

Hokuto: Alright. Watch me, “Club President”, I’ve grown since the first time we met.

*Inhales*

Hokuto: “Heh… Fret not now that I have arrived. Don’t cry – I love you most when you smile.”

Wataru: Nope~! You haven’t changed at all…!

Touri: Wait, that wasn’t a joke…? It’s supposed to be a kung fu movie, so it felt a bit weird when he was acting like a prince.

Yuzuru: Indeed, I was even able to see beautiful flower petals fluttering about.

Wataru: That, I cannot call growth!

That very action you make will change the entire genre of the movie! Please learn to act out other roles aside from a “prince”...!

Eichi: Hmm. Maybe you’re lacking in imagination? Is that all you can come up with in a scene where you have to “save the heroine”?

Hokuto: Hm? That’s harsh – I did my best there…

Makoto: (...S–Sounds like something’s going on. Hidaka-kun’s auditioning right now, isn’t he?)

(Hidaka-kun has a lot of experience acting in plays for the Drama Club, but if he’s also getting chewed out then…)

(What’s gonna happen to an amateur like me~!?)

(I’m scared! This reminds me of the first time I was in front of a camera as a kids model!)

(It’s fun challenging myself with new things, but I can never get used to this anxiety and nervousness~!)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#shangri-la

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hereforbords · 2 years

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Sunday morning, rain is falling

PLEASE NOTE: this is a work of fiction, about fictional characters based on the public persona of real people, this is not about the REAL people. please do not link this to the real people associated with this work of fiction, or if you are or are in contact with a person who shares a namesake in this work of fiction, please close your tab. Not beta’d, just proofread so all mistakes are mine. :)

Getting this one out before Matty signs with the Kraken (hopefully!). It was inspired by the weather we had last weekend, and I was in a Matty mood.

Title taken from Maroon 5′s “Sunday Morning”

***

You had to work the night of Matty’s draft, but you had wished him good luck beforehand. You knew he would go in the first round (and you told him top 10 for sure; you thought he’d go top 5, but you didn’t want to set the bar too high and have him disappointed if it wasn’t as good). You knew he’d be busy when you got your first break, but when you got your lunch, you called him.

It was obvious the party was in full swing when you called; he quickly made his way away from the loud noise and once it quieted down, you asked, “Where to?”

“Seattle. Second overall. Owen beat me.” He chuckled. “You’re going to have to give me the rundown on the Pacific Northwest.”

“I can do that.” You were originally from that area. “Hey, I’m super proud of you babe. I’ll see you when I get off, and we can celebrate tomorrow, ok? I gotta get back.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m proud of you Matty. Love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart. Have a good rest of your shift.”

You were careful to not wake Matty up when you got in; you showered and climbed into bed.

In the morning, Matty’s mom made you all breakfast; Matty had some more press to do, but as soon as it was over, he took you out for the day, wanting to say thank you for all your support.

“So, Seattle?” He asked as you waited for your food at the diner. “What do I need to know?”

“It rains a lot.” You laughed. “Like, seriously, if it doesn’t rain or isn’t overcast, it’s a miracle. Winters are usually nice and mild; sometimes you get some snow, but not very often. The temperatures are comfortable and it’s really green.”

“I think I’ll like it there.”

“I think you will too.” You said.

“What was your favorite part of living there?” He asked.

“The summer and spring storms.” You said; “I spent a lot of time on my front porch.” You smiled at the memories.

“It’s probably a lot to ask, but would you like to come with me when I go there?” Matty asked.

“I would love it.” You said. “If you want me there.”

“I do.” He said. “I‘ll see if they can find me a place with a balcony so we can do some storm watching.”

“Matty, you do have to do that.”

“I want to, honey.” He said. “Besides, it’s the least I can do for you giving me all your Seatte-lite experiences.” He chuckled.

“Alright.” You said. “Oh, and you’re going to want a sweatshirt. Trust me on that one.”

Matty had made the jump to Seattle quickly; you had a few more loose ends to tie up, but you were soon joining him. The weather had been good so far, and there hadn’t been too many storms. He had gotten a place with a balcony too, and tonight, he brought you a sweatshirt, along with a glass of wine. “Hey sweetheart. How was your day?”

“Good.” You said, sliding on his sweatshirt and taking the wine. “How was yours?”

“Long.” He chuckled. “Better now that I’m out here with you.” He wrapped you in a hug.

Just then, you felt raindrops. It was supposed to have stormed all day, but most of it had skirted the area. This round was headed straight for you though. “You wanna experience your first storm on a balcony?” You grinned.

“You know I do.” He grinned, sitting on the chair and pulling you down on top of him. “I gotta see what’s so special about these.”

“Just wait.” You smiled.

By the time it was over, your glass of wine was gone, and you and Matty were both soaked to the core. “See, I told you they’re awesome.” You said, feeling like you were home again. “There’s just something about a Pacific Northwest thunderstorm.”

“That was pretty cool,” he admitted, “but I’m cold now. Can we go in and get rid of these clothes and take a warm shower together? I’d really like cuddles.”

And who were you to deny your boyfriend cuddles? “Of course we can.” You grabbed his hand.

When the next thunderstorm hit and Matty dragged you out in the rain, you could only laugh and say, “I converted you, didn’t I?”

“Quite possibly.” He grinned. “Besides, I always wanted to dance with you in the rain.”

“Ooh, are we having our The Notebook moment?” You couldn’t help but tease.

“Maybe.”

“Well, thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Not as perfect as you.” Matty said.

“Ooh, such the charmer, Mr. Beniers.” You smiled as he carefully spun you around on the balcony.

“Hey, the Sharks are coming to town tomorrow night. Is it ok if we hang out with Bords for a bit after the game?”

“Matty, you don’t even have to ask. Of course it’s ok. I’ve missed him too.” You paused. “I’ll be the responsible one too-I know the shenanigans you two can get up to.” You chuckled.

“This is why you’re my favorite and I love you.” He said, leading you inside.

Once you were fully dry and comfy on the couch, Matty said, “I’m glad it was Seattle.”

“Me too, Matty, me too.”

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storiesofsvu · 3 years

Text

The Nanny with Benefits Ch 2

Rafael Barba x Rita Calhoun. Warnings: language, i think that’s it? Mentions of alcohol consumption. Again, italicized chunks are flashbacks.

Rita perused through the halls of the D.A’s office with ease, an extra coffee and bag of take out in her free hand as she nodded to Carmen before knocking on Rafael’s office door. She knew he wasn’t occupied, not bothering to wait before pushing it open, though she kept quiet while he wrapped up his phone call.

“Two coffees? What, you hungover?” He teased with a grin, that she scowled at.

“Fuck off. You weren’t the one Donnelly was practically feeding shots to all night.”

“Hey, that’s what you get for inviting her to your birthday.” He laughed in reply, pausing to thank her for the coffee, “I’m surprised you’re even in today.”

“I had a motions hearing.” She let out a soft sigh, dropping into a chair across from his desk, “figured I may as well indulge in some msg riddled Chinese and drop this off.”

Along with a couple of containers from the bag, she pulled out a folder, dropping it to Rafael’s desk. He opted for the food first, ripping apart the chopsticks and digging into the low mein before flipping the folder open.

“You hitting me with a pre-nup already?” This time Rita really did roll her eyes, half hating herself for even leaving her bed this morning. She easily could have sent in a junior partner to handle the hearing, it would have at least saved her the pounding headache.

“It’s our disclosure paperwork. All things considered we can’t just spring it on a judge that we’re married if we’re in the midst of a case opposing each other. It’ll look like we were irresponsible and didn’t disclose the relationship in a timely manner. The first draft of the pre-nup’s in my bag.” She muttered, tugging a container of orange chicken towards her.

“You seriously have it drafted?” He asked, a brow raising from the disclosure paperwork as he read through it, initialling the required pages.

“I’ve been re-drafting it every couple of years, depending on whom I was seeing, if I thought it might actually go somewhere, and depending on how my finances were looking.” She shrugged, mumbling over a bite of chicken, “and I’m not doing it to be pretentious. You just always had a stick up your ass whenever I tried to foot the bill back in college, I figured you would prefer to be an equal partner rather than my sugar baby.” Rafael snorted, rolling his eyes as he signed the last page, sliding them back over to Rita, “though I do know you have a soft spot for pricey suits.”

“I’ll take those as my anniversary presents then.” He teased back with a grin, diving back into lunch, “you do know that we don’t have to do this. Even if we did sign some drunken, void agreement back in law school.”

“I don’t feel pressured into it at all.” Rita replied, “honestly over the last couple of months I’ll admit I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She laughed, “c’mon Raf, you already know that I love you, even if it didn’t really work out in all the other departments, I still enjoy your company over everyone else’s.”

“Despite how much of a pain in my ass you are some days, I truly do feel the same the same.”

“And I believe your Mother will be ecstatic.” She smirked and he huffed a laugh out.

“She most certainly will. She’ll be thrilled to know the two of you will be able to gang up on me at every holiday possible from now on.”

“It’ll be nice to come home to a friendly face for once, my apartment’s always so fucking empty and cold a lot of days I stay too late at the office to simply not feel lonely.” She admitted, digging into her lunch deeper.

“Maybe you shouldn’t live in a fucking penthouse then.” Rafael retorted and she shot him a glare.

“Please. As if you work late in this room because you like the smell of the carpet cleaner so much.”

“Coming home to a dark apartment has gotten rather depressing.” He sighed, “I suppose real estate is something we’ll be figuring out? Or do you have that in the pre-nup already?”

“It’s up for debate.” Rita replied, “I know we talked about kids recently, and all things considered, I wouldn’t say my place is suited for them, and we’d need space for them to have their own rooms instead my home office and yoga room. Plus I’d like to make sure we’re in a good school district that’s still close enough to work for both of us.”

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to send them to private school?” Rafael asked with a raised brow and Rita chuckled.

“I don’t want to argue over pointless things like that. I figure give them an experience in both and let them choose by the time they get to high school. Gives them a little bit more freedom. And believe me, private school is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Why do I feel like this is too easy?” He asked, his head tilting as he looked across the desk at Rita and she let out a small laugh, chewing back a bite of food before she answered.

“Because we’ve been friends for decades, and we’ve constantly been involved in each other’s lives. Sure, our relationship failed when we were in our twenties and focussing far more energy on passing the bar, but we both understood that. Now? We’re successful, we’ve reached a high point career wise, we’ve stuck with each other, and we share a lot of opinions when it comes to family life.”

“As much as we disagree about work, we agree about everything else.” He smiled softly, then extended his hand over the desk, “why don’t you let me go over that pre-nup, and you can get home to a quiet dark penthouse to nurse the rest of your hangover.”

“God I thought you’d never ask.” She laughed lightly, pulling a couple of other folders from her bag, “there’s a few real estate options in there I’ve had my eye on, let me know what you think, then we can talk about how the financials of that would work and maybe go check out a few places.”

“Sounds good.” He accepted the files, adding them to the pile on his desk, “now get out of here before your grumpiness settles in and you hate everyone.” He teased. Rita scoffed, gathering her things as she stood from the desk.

“Thank you. And call me if you have any questions or concerns.”

“I will.” Rafael smiled warmly as she moved through the office, though he called out right before her hand hit the door, “and Rita?”

“Yes?” She sighed softly as she turned back to him.

“I love you too.” He shot her a grin, “after everything, you’re still the one I’d like to put up with for the rest of my life.”

“How charming.” She replied dryly with a laugh on her cheeks before pulling open his office door.

You weren’t surprised when the address Rita texted you was one in Tribeca, or one of the fancier apartment buildings on the block. When you pulled the door open you saw her in the lobby, perched against the back of one of the couches, her attention on her phone. She was dressed more casual than at the interview, a more comfortable pair of leggings, and a looser beige blouse, her hair pulled back in a French braid. You weren’t sure how she looked so put together with two kids under three, but some women just managed to make it work. At the gust of air the lobby door let in when you entered, she glanced up, a soft smile breaking on her cheeks as she pushed off the couch.

“She’s perfectly punctual too, that’s what we like to see.” She greeted, pulling a laugh from you.

“I find that’s usually one of the most important parts.” You replied with a smile, and she gently nodded towards the elevator, guiding you up to their apartment.

There was the usual small chit chat on the way, she asked how the rest of your week went, little life updates kind of thing. You were glad that conversation flowed easily with her, and that she seemed genuinely concerned about the care she was leaving her kids with. Not all parents, especially ones in Manhattan, were like that, you’d done your fair share of sitting or nannying for ones that only saw the kids once a week, and didn’t seem to really give a shit. You weren’t sure what was worse, those, or the helicopter parents who didn’t even need a nanny, as they were constantly there. The ones who had a very specific menu of things that the kids could eat, and god forbid you ever fed them McDonalds.

It didn’t surprise you when she let you into the apartment that it was as lavish as one would be able to with young kids. A small entry way where you slipped out of your shoes, leaving your coat and bag hanging on the wall, there was a set of winding stairs off to the right, and down the hall opened up into the open kitchen and living room. Floor to ceiling windows lead out onto a mini terrace, a hall to your left lead down to what you assumed was a home office, and potentially a bedroom, another set of stairs at the end of it, you were sure the main bedrooms were all upstairs.

“It’s gorgeous.” You commented and Rita hummed.

“My realtor has great taste.”

“Momma?!” A small voice called out and a tiny human popped up from over the back of the couch, medium brown hair and vivid green eyes just like his father. His head tilted at the sight of you with Rita, a little confused expression on his adorable face. “Thought you bring treat?” He pouted and Rita laughed.

“You can have a treat after dinner, how about that?”

“Dino nuggies?!” His eyes lit up and you chuckled.

“It is Saturday, isn’t it?” Rafael smiled, standing from the couch as he scooped the boy up. He too, was casual today, in dark jeans and a very cozy looking blue sweater, a little bit of scruff on his cheeks built up from the week. “You find the place okay?” He asked, his attention on you.

“Oh yeah.” You assured, “straight up off the subway from my place.” Suddenly coming to the realization, you jumped in to correct yourself, “not that you have to worry about me with the kids on the subway. I do drive, I just prefer not to in the city, parking’s usually outrageous and I hadn’t checked the situation around here beforehand.”

“Ai, it is perfectly fine to take these kiddos on the subway, how else will they get cultured to the city?” An older woman cut in dryly, emerging from around the bend in the kitchen, spatula in her hand, “you must be y/n, call me Lucia.” She smiled warmly, “can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“Mami…” Rafael sighed, “you don’t even live here.”

“At least I know how to be a proper host!” She shot back with a half grin, half glare “coffee?”

“Sure.” You accepted with a laugh, “just cream please.” You jumped slightly at Rita’s hand gently placed on your shoulder, pulling you back into the conversation.

“You don’t have to worry about using your car. Neither of us drive in this hell city, I’ve got a car service, they’ve got one set up with the kid’s seats whenever you need to go further than you’d like on the subway.”

“Are you new friend?” The boy suddenly cut in, a sparkle in his eye and you laughed.

“I suppose I am, as long as your Mom and Dad think it’s okay.”

“I doubt we’ll be having any issues against it.” Rita nearly smirked at you, then turned back to Rafael, “is Isabella up yet?”

“Haven’t checked, but she should be, otherwise she won’t go down tonight.”

Rita grimaced, pecking him on the cheek before disappearing up the stairs.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked from Raf’s arms and you turned to him.

“I’m y/n.” You smiled, “and you are?”

“Damian!” He smiled brightly back, letting out a little giggle, “and I’m this many.” He held up two little fingers and stuck his thumb out.

“The thumb means half.” Rafael explained.

“Did you wanna see my toys!?” Damian excitedly scrambled in his Dad’s arms, trying to get free.

“Uh…of course!”

Upstairs, Rita found little Isabella asleep, but she knew Rafael was right, as much as waking her up might make a fussy one and a half year old, it would be better than not getting her down later on. She gently picked her up, pressing little kisses to her hair as she did her best to smooth the bed head out. Isabella started to wake up, sleep lines pressed into her face, a ‘where the heck am I? I slept so good’ look of confusion on her face that Rita laughed at. She swiftly changed her, and moved back downstairs to find you on the floor of the living room, Raf watching from the couch while Damian pulled every single toy of his out of the baskets to show you, explaining in great detail about who each of them were, in the most his little vocabulary could. She smiled at the sight, chuckling lightly at just how much of his father Damian had, the way he was practically pacing as he explained everything was very much Rafael in court, she also greatly appreciated the fact that you seemed to be fitting in very well right off the bat. She made a mental note to thank Olivia for the recommendation the next time she saw her.

“Think you really found a winner.” Lucia grinned as she handed Rita a sippy cup of milk for her daughter.

“We certainly did luck out.” She mused, half holding the cup for Isabella as her teeny hands tried their best to get the drink into her mouth. “Didn’t even have to put an ad out, which was honestly what I was worried about.”

“You said she’s got teaching experience, right?”

“Yeah, eight years of at at P.S 258. I wasn’t worried, but I called them and everyone had glowing recommendations, said she was exceptionally well with younger kids, and that they all miss her like crazy. She’s been working with kids for over twenty years already, babysitting, coaching gymnastics, teaching dance, did a couple of summers at overnight camps, she’s done it all.”

“It shows.” Lucia grinned, “the question remains…can she cook? Or am I now meal prepping for one extra mouth each week?”

“Oh I am not that bad.” She retorted and the older woman gaped, rolling her eyes.

“You lit the Dino nuggies on fire last week. Literal flames, chica, you can’t be trusted.” She swatted at her arm and Rita rolled her eyes before moving into the living room to introduce you to Isabella.

It didn’t take long before the small girl had teetered over to you, plopping down into your lap as she sucked at her drink. By the end of the afternoon you’d played with nearly all of the toys (and encouraged Damian to clean them up before he dragged you upstairs to show you his room and those toys), played a couple games of pretend, and watched a few episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Rita gave you a more in-depth tour of the apartment, making sure you’d know where most everything you would need was, as you talked through some of the details of the contract. She made sure to show you the guest room that would be your quarters, on the lower floor and slightly separated from the main area of the house for extra privacy. You’d have your own bathroom and mini kitchenette/living room combo, and she assured you that you could move whatever furniture in you wanted, and they had no problem throwing things in storage to help make you feel more at home.

There were multiple pleads for you to stay for dinner, and you assured Damian that as much as you loved Dino nuggets, you did unfortunately have your own places to be that evening, but that you would be back very soon. While the kids were distracted with the Abuelita you went over a few last minute things, and rearranged some details in the contract before signing everything away. Rita and Rafael assured you that you could start moving things in whenever you wanted, to text them or Lucia to make sure the kids would be out and not a distraction while you did so, and you agreed on an official starting date. After one last bear hug with Damian, you bid them goodnight, and made your way from the apartment as they let out a collected sigh of relief that finding a good nanny was nowhere near as complicated as they thought it would be. Rita raised a brow as Raf turned back to her, a smirk on his face,

“So clearly you think she’s cute.” He teased, prodding at her ribs and she scoffed, Lucia cutting in before she could defend herself.

“Yeah, you really don’t hold back do you? At least get the work out of the way first.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She retorted, swiftly picking up the plates of nuggets for the kids before making her way to the table.

________ @melk917 @stone-hearted-seymour @alexusonfire @nocreditinthestraightworld @holycrapraewth @1-lindsay83 @ms-calhoun @thatesqcrush @tinyboxxtink @detective-giggles @teamsladsandgents @witches-unruly-heart @lannister-slings-and-arrows @lazaretta @season4scullyhair @addictedtodinosaurs @jamiethetrans @bumblebear30 @natasha-danvers @bookpillows @swimmingstudentchaos891 @newyorker14 @screenee @savannah-elliott @lawandorderuswnt @whimsicallymad @natasha-danvers

#Rita calhoun #rafael barba #law and order svu #barhoun #rita calhoun x reader #rafael barba x reader #barhoun x reader #the nanny with benefits #raul esparza #elizabeth marvel #svu #law and order

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cleewii · 3 years

Text

nicknames he gives you (II) -hc’s

character(s): bennet, razor, albedo

rating: e for everyone

warning(s): none

tag list: @halethemenace

a/n: ty for the request, doll! im so sorry it took so long 😀 i’ve had this buried in my drafts and forgot to post them. i hope these are alright! my apologies for leaving out aether, i still haven’t found the best way to characterize him i’m afraid

BENNETT

- sweets, boss/boss lady/boss man, starlight

- sweets, because I believe this boy has a sweet tooth, and being with you fills him with the same sense of joy he gets after a nice sugary treat.

- boss/boss lady/boss man, because although it may be benny’s adventure team, he look’s up to you and regards you as the leader to all of your next adventures with him. you’re the boss around here, and he’d follow you to the ends of the earth, excited for everything you have planned next as long as he can be right there with you

- starlight, because you remind him so much of the twinkling stars above. considering he’s been on his own for some time, he’s had the many constellations and galaxies above to keep him company. Much like the faces of his family, he remembers the patterns in the night as though they were his friends, making him feel at home no matter how far away from mondstat he may be. he had never expected to feel the exact same way when he’s with you, but he certainly isn’t complaining. you’re home to him, and you shine as brightly as the stars he’s been looking at all of his life

RAZOR

- pup, flower, pretty

- pup, because he thinks you’re cute. he’s taken care of and guarded the baby wolves in his lupical before, and he finds them to be very cute, just like you. a protectiveness fills him when he’s around them, and he unknowingly finds himself becoming this way when he’s with you. if he can save you, prevent you from feeling pain or disappointment, he’ll do it. he knows you’re strong, you don’t need defending, he just wants to be strong with you

- flower, because you share the same beauty as the pretty blossoms that reside in the forest. he’s had years to admire the beauty of the world around him, the vast stretches of land and the large towering tree’s. he looks forward to the spring if only to be able to see the breathtaking fauna that blooms, because he sees that same beauty in you, and whenever he walks past a flower it reminds him of you, so please don’t mind the handfuls of flowers you’ll find at your door

- pretty, although it’s not much of a nickname, he finds himself calling you that more often than not. you’ll be off staring into space, and his eyes are glued to you, unable to stop the words from spilling from his mouth

“pretty.” “huh?” “you.” “you what?” “you’re pretty...”

ALBEDO

- darling, blossom, assistant

- darling, because of course he’d use this one. it just sounds so good coming out of his mouth, his soft voice lined with unwavering affection, all directed only towards you. there’s a soft look in his eyes when he uses this one, a gentle smile that takes over the methodically reserved look he typically wears

- blossom, because he thinks you’re as pretty as the flowers that line the mountain trails. he’s always amazed by the fact that life could prevail in a land so unforgiving, so he pays attention to the new blossoms he encounters. the delicate beauty forever encapsulated in the icy terrain, and a beauty that brings warmth to a place so cold. You’re like that to him. He’s a scientist with a clear objective, someone who could be easily brushed aside as cold and distant, as his passion for discovery outweighs all else. You’re warm and bright, a burst of energy with a contagious smile. You’re the beauty and kindness next to his logic and reason.

- assistant, because it’s humorous. it’s an inside joke between the two of you, “how do you do, sir?” “Lovely considering the weather, assistant.” a refreshing blanket of kind-hearted familiarity that he always appreciates after a long day in his laboratory.

#albedo x reader #bennet x reader #razor x reader #albedo #bennet genshin impact #razor genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #albedo headcanons #razor headcanons #bennet headcanons #clee's.hc's #bennett x reader

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love-archon · 3 years

Text

A Day With The Genshin Characters: Liyue Edition

Today's going to be a busy day! Check your planner for who you'll be meeting with- as one of the esteemed members of the Liyue Qixing, you cannot afford to be late to any appointment.

• 6:00, Ningguang: Morning Tea

Although you say you love your job, waking up at un-archonly hours has to be the part you like the least. Even getting up at five in the morning, the hour when tigers prowl, is still not enough time to prepare for a meeting with the Tianquan. You rush around frantically choosing the best outfit, fragrance, and hair arrangement to present yourself to Lady Ningguang, and you're halfway out the door when it hits you- you forgot to bring a gift with you!

"Right on time," Ningguang says, pleased. You smile, hoping she won't hear your heart beating from anxiety. "And what a lovely present, too... is there any doubt you were appointed as one of the seven Qixing?" (You can't tell if it's her rare praise, or the sheer altitude you're at within the Jade Chamber, that's making your head spin).

• 7:00, Keqing: Business Meeting

You barely have time to rest before Keqing whisks you away to Yuehai Pavilion. You're very close friends, and you admire the girl for her tenacity and diligence. The conversation flows easily as you walk to your destination under a cloudless sky. It's a wonderfully sunny moment, but the moment the doors lock, you mean business. In the next two hours, you conquer matters that would normally take days to resolve, and the two of you exchange grins.

"There we go!" Keqing breathes a sigh of relief, pushing away the last stack of papers. She holds up her hand, and you high-five. "You know, I like how easily you keep up with me. You even caught mistakes I would have missed... things like this make me even more certain Liyue is better off in human hands."

• 9:00: Check In With Ganyu

With such a hectic schedule, Ganyu is your saving grace. It's always important to check in with her, just to make sure nothing you have planned catches you by surprise, and sometimes you wonder why others rarely do the same. She's quite lonely, and often mentions how nice it is that you speak with her every day and bring her gifts to help with work. It may be part of your job to be courteous, but... it does help her feel less lonely and conflicted with herself.

"Qingxin flowers? Thank you so much." She accepts them gratefully, smiling at you with warm eyes. "I still have that new stationery you gave me, too. You're so kind for remembering the things I like!"

• 9:30: Talk to Beidou

The tea in the Jade Chamber was just a front for Ningguang to spring a request on you- meet with the captain of the Crux Fleet to discuss her... recent smuggling habits. But Beidou merely laughs heartily when you arrive. A crewmate tosses her a sack of Mora, and she slits it open, letting the payment shower over you in a spray of gold. And then, before you know what's happening, you're roped into helping them find a treasure rumored to be lost beneath the waves.

"So, Ningguang though sending her star diplomat would get me to let up, huh!" You blush, wondering how you could be so easy to read under her ruby eye. "I was impressed by your words, and how well you fought by my side. But the annoyance of the Liyue Qixing is of no concern to me."

• 12:00, Tartaglia: TEACH HIM A LESSON!

As the member of the Qixing that oversees diplomacy and foreign relations, it's you that must meet with the Fatui Harbinger. He's quite good at playing pretend- all your underlings believed he was a naive, careless young man, and easily manipulated, too. And all of them ended up suppressing the urge to break something after they were done conversing with him. On your honor as one of Liyue's seven stars, you vow to not make their mistakes.

"You're asking why I don't try to drive you mad?" he said, setting down his fork. You'd caved in and given him one after watching him struggle with chopsticks for far too long. "You're the only one who isn't a bore to talk to, that's all-" so this was on purpose?!- "and besides, I want to challenge you to a fight afterwards! Your vision's getting quite dusty from neglect, comrade. Let's fix that!"

• 2:00, Yanfei: Discussion of Legal Matters

Yanfei's counsel is an invaluable treasure. Especially when dealing with an opponent as vicious as Snezhnaya's Fatui, who deserve to have her wrath unleashed upon them. You walk to her office with a gleam in your eyes, and are delighted to see an equal fire already blazing in hers. For the next few hours, you two take the "suggestions" Tartaglia passed on from the Northland Bank and scheme on how to best tear them to shreds with the law.

"That man-childe's been giving you trouble again, huh," she giggles. "What did he come up with this time~? I've been waiting for an excuse to bring out the latest edition of my lawbook!" And with that, Yanfei slams it down, and the sheer weight of it nearly cracks her desk. "He won't know what hit him!"

• 4:00: Free Time

Of course, "free time" simply means that you have no meetings scheduled for this hour, which lets you adequately prepare for the next day's events. Tomorrow is your appointment with the Feiyun Commerce Guild, which you already know will require great patience and strength of mind. Because the head of the guild, and his eldest son, the future head, are- to put it mildly- not very bright... it's fortunate, then, that the second son Xingqiu has a good head on his shoulders.

"Tomorrow, you should go straight to me instead," Xingqiu informs you cheerily, handing you a popsicle. Apparently, he keeps them around for his friend Chongyun, who's off to complete another exorcism. "I'll be sure to set everything in order." His eyes gleam. "And then, I can tell you the latest developments in 'A Legend of Sword'!"

• 5:00: Catch Xinyan's Concert!

Liyue's one and only rock musician isn't hard to find, thanks to the designated performance spots scattered around the city. You stop by at the raised platform where she's rocking out, where other people are listening as well. Xinyan strikes a peace sign in the air, and her vision glows with energy before the stage erupts with pillars of fire; her audience bursts into cheers and applause, and she's beaming as she leaps down to meet you.

"Wait, seriously? You really changed up the rules a lil' so it'll be easier for me to hold concerts here?" Her eyes shine as they scan the papers- one of the many results of your work today in Yuehai. "Thank you so much! Wait-" she picks up her guitar again, giving it an experimental riff. "Let me think up a quick song for ya as thanks- I insist!"

• 6:00: Wangsheng Funeral Parlor

Lately, you've been sent particularly determined requests from the other nations about allowing tourists to observe the ancient funeral rites. You already know the answer's gonna be a hard no, but the laws written by Rex Lapis state that you must check with the director anyway. She's not there when you arrive, so a consultant, Zhongli, brings you tea while you wait for her. You sit together in the fading sun, waiting for Hu Tao's familiar song to rise above the hill.

Zhongli takes a quiet sip from his cup, closing his luminous eyes. "Although it was Rex Lapis who created the laws, they are not meant to be set in stone. Humans must revise the contract as they see fit, so that it will not erode with the passage of time." Something makes you feel as though it's more significant to him than you know. Then, he smiles slightly. "But, just looking at the people leading the way in his absence, like you... there's no need for me to worry."

• 8:00: Dinner; Request Chef Xiangling

The Wanmin Restaurant, run by Chef Mao and his daughter, is a breath of fresh air. While the rest of Liyue is divided between the "Li" and "Yue" styles of cooking, Xiangling pays the conflict no mind. Instead, she's not afraid to be daring and experiment, blazing ahead without worrying about what others think. You can see some similarities between her and Keqing, but it's best not to mention it after that disastrous banquet they organized together...

"Had a rough day, didn't you?" Xiangling asks, her golden eyes twinkling as she hands you the steaming hot bowl. "Well, for you, I made sure to prepare your favorite dish! I hope you don't mind if I added a lizard or two this time- I'm kidding!" she adds quickly, upon seeing alarm flash across your face.

• 9:00: Return Home

After everything that happened, you're eager to collect the reports from your subordinates and head home to draft new revisions for Tianquan Ningguang to look over (and then, hopefully, get some rest). But as you're walking on the path to your neighborhood, you spot a little girl sitting in the grass, clutching her head. Alarm rises in your chest as you rush over to see what's wrong, and why she's alone- only to realize with a start that she's the child that returned from the dead.

"Thank you for taking Qiqi back to Bubu Pharmacy," she says, reading solemnly from her notebook (where the entire thank-you script is written). Even when you set her down, she's still reading the pieces of paper. "Will you tell Dr. Baizhu where I got lost? Please and thank you, again."

• 10:00: Sleep

In the end, you never did get to those revisions. You can hear your fellow Qixing scolding you in your head, but at least you got plenty of other things done; the well-oiled machine that is Liyue will still keep running on thanks to the tasks you accomplished today. Someday, even the adepti will have to acknowledge the ability of humans... you turn in your bed to feel the coolness of the other side. Speaking of adepti... the night air coming in... reminds you of... "Xiao..."

"I thought you were in danger," the adeptus huffs. The moment you said his name, you'd finally fallen asleep, but it still brought Xiao to you- balanced on the windowsill, hair waving in the breeze. "Still... I'm... glad that you're alright," he admits, glancing at you to make sure you're not awake to hear. "Rest well, bright star of Liyue." And then, with a sound like a sigh- or was it the wind?- he's gone.

#genshin imagines #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ningguang x reader #beidou x reader #xiao x reader #genshin scenarios

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

(un)loving miya atsumu

fourteen.

loving miya atsumu

Dear Atsumu,

I hate how much your face is the first thing that comes to mind when I think about the word - ‘happiness’ and ‘love’. Happiness, because it radiates off your bones, no matter the situation, in court when up against strong opponents, thwarting plays with a setter dump or when you’re up serving, or when pulling off nasty quicks with your brother or any other player, off court when you fight with Osamu over the last ice cream at the convenience store, when you share a stupid joke with your dad, or even when you’re with the people you care about. Love, because you do everything with just the right to too much amount of love, pouring your everything in it, pouring your heart in the things that make you happy may it be volleyball, Osamu, your family, Mika- not a single wasted opportunity to convey your love and happiness. Nobody compares the way you do.

You’ve set a standard for almost everything, which is why you expect nothing for the best to be at the receiving end of both happiness and love.

I hope you know that to me; you are the embodiment of both happiness and love. Because I really hate how you remain the embodiment of these two words I have difficulty expressing.

Your name literally translates to 'to devour' and in a sense, you are someone who happily, readily accepts love and happiness on a daily basis, allowing it to fill you up to the core and share it with everyone.

You are everything that is everything – the sun after a stormy day, the sunshine in my veins, the kiss of the wind against my skin, the light to my darkness, my sunflower. You are everything to me, and to you, I offer, my whole heart, which you don’t have to worry returning, because it’s yours. Always has been.

- (Y/N)’s letter, 1 out of 13

"MIKA!" launching yourself at your big sister, engulfing in a hug, the two of you laughed. Breaking away, you held your older sister an arm's length, taking her in. "You're home! You're here!" The excitement was evident in your tone, a bit of confusion as well, at the joyful arrival of your big sister.

"Just thought I'd surprise you!"

Frowning slightly, you ask again. "But how about school?"

"I'm on break!"

"Alexander and Pien?"

"The family's currently on vacation in Spain," sensing another question coming, she furthers. "the parents were the ones who arranged this trip, because they know it would mean the world to me and I would never want to miss my little sister's big day."

The grin on your face softened, engulfing your sister into a hug again. "I'm just so happy you're here,"

"Me, too."

Despite everything that went down, before anything else in the world, this was your sister – your best friend by design. After months apart, talking to her virtually for a year, having her in person was such a delight. Seeing her home was probably the best graduation gift you could ask more.

Swaying into your hug, relishing in the feeling of her touch, Mika slowly opens her eyes, seeing the twins, finally remembering that they weren't alone.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" dropping the hug, she turns to the twins. "Atsumu, Osamu, hello!"

"Welcome back, Mika-nee," says Osamu.

"H-Hey Mika-nee," Atsumu stutters.

Something unsettled in your belly, coming at a screeching halt at the reunion. You could feel Osamu's eyes on you. Balling your hands into fists, you swallowed that ugly feeling, wearing a smile on.

"Shall we head inside?" Nobody seemed to notice the slight crack in your voice, which you were thankful for. Lowering your head, your eyes easily found your graduation pin, a reminder.

Atsumu, however, seemed out of it. Even in the presence of his first love, he didn't seem the least happy to see her. In fact, he almost looked, dare you say, troubled.

While the three of you were taking off your shoes, the house filled with joyous noises from both families, you turned to the blond-dyed teen worriedly.

"Atsumu, are you alright?"

Is he alright? How was he supposed to feel? Mika was right there! Mika, the person he's been in love with since he was 9. Love, right? She's always been his standard, the perfect girl for some just as perfect as him. Boyfriend be damned. Mika was there. Mika was here. Shouldn't he be happy?

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your voice, he worked on a feeble smile, worrying you even more.

Snapping out of it, he quirks his lips up. Before you can say another word, his grandparents come barrelling down the hall to greet you three.

Atsumu's smile was worrying.

"How I've missed Japanese food!" Mika gushes at the table, eyes bright at the food on display – especially at the seafood, care of your uncle (of course).

Laughing, the twins' father turns to her. "What's wrong with Dutch food, Mika-chan?"

Aside from sushi, there was an assortment of dishes like tempura, sauteed vegetables, salad, grilled meat, roast beef and chicken, and two cakes. With a feast like this, calling for the occasion, it was enough to water anyone’s mouth.

"It's alright, but kinda bland." they laugh at that.

You sat next to your sister, Kaoru on your other side. Across you sat the twins, Atsumu directly in front of you. Catching his eye, he quirked his lips up – smile seeming forced.

Your mom was all smiles, lifting her glass up. “Well now, let’s make a toast to our graduates!”

"To our bright and wonderful children!” your uncle seconds, joyfully, loudly. “To Atsumu, Osamu, and (Y/N)! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Everyone was clinking their glasses against each other before digging in.

The adults were usually doing the talking, exchanging pleasantries about this and that, while the youngins were on a world of their own. It only made sense why the (extended) table was divided into two – young and old.

Lifting his gaze, Atsumu could see you chatting up with his grandparents, a pleasing and polite smile on your face. As his grandma was sharing about her newest hobby, you were wiping Kaoru’s face clean, much to the younger boy’s displeasure.

“Atsumu, I hear you’ve been scouted by a pro-league?”

Suddenly called by Mika, he was suddenly on the spot. Normally, he would preen, just to keep those bright (e/c) eyes on him. When in truth, he wants another pair of eyes on him.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that’s right.”

“Pfft, what kinda energy is that?” booms his dad’s voice, ringing throughout the room. “Give it more life, Atsumu!” Beside him, his mom pats her husband’s arm, smiling per usual, but had a loving look in her eyes.

“What team are you joining?”

“MSBY Black Jackals,” he replies, staring at his plate. “they’re based in Osaka.”

Atsumu still remembers the day you approached him, shared with him how a scout agent had approached you first, then asked for Atsumu’s contact information. He was so over the moon after you told him that.

“Oh! So it’s close by!”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice, you don’t have to worry about university and just continue doing what you do best. I’m jealous.”

Atsumu works on a faint smile, happy to hear it.

You watched the whole exchange from the corner of your eye, taking a bite of sushi before washing it down with soda, swallowing down the lump in your throat as well.

“Nee-san,” something pat at the corners of your mouth, Kaoru grinning. “your mouth was messy!”

Smiling, you could only pat his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Kaoru.”

“And how about (Y/N)-chan?” the Miya’s grandmother asked you suddenly, bringing the attention to you.

Now at the center of attention, you set down your plate. “Um…I’ll be studying at Hiroshima University.”

“Hiroshima! That’s four hours away from here?” whines the twins’ mom, to which your uncle and mom shrugs easily.

“Well, it was her decision.”

“Waseda was also in her list, but she opted for Hiroshima University.”

Nearly choking on his drink, the twins’ father turns to you. “Wa-Waseda!?”

“Dad, calm down!” Atsumu berates, embarrassed. Beside him, Osamu just helps himself to another serving, handing his grandfather another, too.

“Don’t underestimate Waseda, Atsumu! That’s one of the most prestigious schools in Japan!”

Atsumu knows that very well, because you told them about it. Just that…

“Well, she didn’t pass.” Huffs your uncle, but goes on to explain rather excitedly. “So she went for the next big thing – Hiroshima University!”

“Dad, didn’t we already tell you this?” Osamu frowns, rice sticking to his cheek. “We also told you she passed the exams.”

Their dad deflated at that, scratching at his cheek. “A-Ah, eh…you know your old man, he’s getting old and his memory’s failing him.” Everyone in the table laughs, even young Kaoru!

“Still, Hiroshima’s a long way from here, (Y/N)-chan,” their grandfather turns to you. “Why not join Osamu at Kobe University? Or Atsumu in Osaka at Kansai University?”

Shrugging, you reached over to refill his glass. “I wanted a change of pace, I guess. Also,” sitting back, you brushed strands of hair behind your ear, exposing your conch piercing. “I had a bit of epiphany when we had our class excursion there.”

The adults smile at your words, Mika, most especially.

“Well, I know you’ll do well there which is why we want you to have this,” from his pocket, the twins’ grandfather produced three envelopes – for you, Osamu, and Atsumu. To say that the three of you were shocked would be an understatement. “Here,”

Ever so carefully, the three of you took the envelope with both hands.

“Go on, open it!” says their mom excitedly, recording with their phone.

“OH MY GOD MOM, YOU’RE EMBARRASSING US!”

“Open, open!” their grandmother clapped her hands excitedly, sharing the same sweet smile as her husband.

Glancing at each other, the three of you seemed to share the same idea.

“On three?”

Nod.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

Outside the window, the wind blew, sending a draft it in (L/N) household. One glance and you were greeted by a world painted in pink hues, blushes of nature come in falling petals – spring has come alright.

In your subdivision, there was only one cherry blossom tree that was planted in the playground just behind your house. At the epicentre of your neighbourhood, like a heartbeat that connected each household to its beating. When spring comes, it blooms, shedding off its petals, scattering against the wind everywhere – for everyone to see.

A chance to bring spring into their homes, to enjoy moments like these without having to worry about leaving. Like a hanami at home.

“Ohhh.”

“…we got money.”

“Granny, Gramps, thank you so much!”

“Use the money wisely now!”

“I’m jealous,” Mika tells you, watching the twins. “you three got to share moments like these, have been for years. But now,” her smile falters a bit. “you’re off on your separate ways. Will you be okay?”

Your big sister will always be your best friend, one deigned to you since you were born and because of blood. But having friends of your own was another story, especially worth noting just how quiet you can be, which is why when they moved to Hyogo and were introduced to the twins, it made her feel settled. The three of you were inseparable, always together, a bond she envied.

At this point in your life, there was no denying the consequences of growing up.

“We all have our own different dreams and ambitions, so it’s only normal that we chase after it.” Taking a sip of your drink, your eyes catch on Osamu. “Osamu’s not as ambitious as his brother, but he’s just as competitive – especially when it comes to his future and happiness.”

“True, but a shame that he’s not going pro like his brother, they would be such a team!”

It would, years of watching them grow together was enough of a testament. The most powerful twins in volleyball.

“They’ll always have volleyball and each other. But when it comes to happiness, that’s another story.” Recalling Osamu’s soft gaze on the finished onigiri he made, the tale he shared afterwards. “Osamu’s happiness in with cooking and food.”

Humming, Mika takes her own drink, sipping in.

“And the thing with Atsumu is that’s he’s always looking forward, never once settling on the past knowing that it will hold him back. In fact, he’s always looking ahead that he tends to forget what he’s doing in present time.”

“It sounds like he’s taken to heart your club motto, huh? ‘We don’t need memories’.”

It was such a powerful motto – moving and inspiring all at once. From the moment your eyes saw Inarizaki’s banner when you were young to the moment you became manager, that motto has stuck with you the most. You love that motto, love its implication and even took it by heart.

“We can’t always be ruled by our past after all.” You set your drink down. “How else are we going to move forward?”

Atsumu stared at the ceiling before him, having given up tossing and turning for the past few hours. After the third hour, he threw in the towel – he was restless, unable to fall asleep from everything that’s happened today. It’s as though he found himself at an impasse – unsure of what he’s been holding on to, unable to comprehend how he should feel with everything going on.

Mika was home. Feelings he’s had for her…surfaced. He thinks. Atsumu broke into a sigh, sitting up, he was a mess.

Suddenly, he heard rummaging from below him, muted light glowing from below.

“’Samu?” he called out.

“Ah, shit.” Osamu craned his head, meeting his eyes. “Sorry, ‘Tsumu. Did I wake you?”

Shaking his head, Atsumu noted that Osamu was dressed up. “Where’re you headed?”

“Out.” He pockets his phone and wallet away.

“By yourself?” When his brother shakes his head, Atsumu shifts from his spot, asking again. “With whom?”

“…with (Y/N).”

Atsumu was silent for a while, coming to realization how Osamu sneaks out a lot in the past. It shouldn’t be a question and should be easy to tell who he usually hung out with late at night.

“Can I come?”

Osamu’s blinked at that. Atsumu waits, hopes. He watches as his brother looks at his phone, then back to his brother. Eventually, he exhales through his nose, wearing a half-smile as he nods slowly.

“Yeah, come on.”

Smiling, Atsumu feels excited as he gets down from his bunk and quickly changes. Following his brother's lead, ever so quietly the twins trudge out of the house, careful not to make any loud noises (which honestly, they shouldn't even bother for everyone in their family were heavy sleepers), door closing shut behind him. It amazed Atsumu how his brother does it all with practiced eased.

Spring evening was chilly, biting at his skin, nipping his nose. Good thing he thought of putting on his hoodie.

Together, the twins head out their house, bypassing their gate and turn, towards the (L/N) house next door where a figure waited.

Dressed in an oversized hoodie that stopped by your mid thighs, gazing up at the night sky in thought, in waiting.

"Yo, (Y/N)."

Lowering your head, (e/c) eyes widened slightly once realizing your best friend didn't come alone. At this, Atsumu raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey, (Y/N). Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug easily, standing to your full height. "Sure, why not."

Spring night was cool and crisp, biting almost – remnants from winter’s past.

Three teens walk along their quiet neighbourhood, cruising along houses for some few blocks until reaching a brightly lit establishment just next to the main road.

Upon entering the store, the cashier – a smiling, tired-looking woman, nods at Osamu and you, eyes shining in familiarity. A recurrence, it seems. Despite the wee hours of the night, the stillness of the silence, bright lights flooded the establishment with a multitude of goods lined up, budget meals prepped and ready, everything seemed liked a sight for any customer.

Following after Osamu, the two cruised through the aisles, his brother grabbing some chips and a seasonal onigiri, the twins nearly towering over. Reaching the end, he felt a chill, realizing he was by the frozen section, with you eyeing the selection with pursed lips.

"Aren't you full from all the food we ate earlier?" Atsumu laughs, standing next to you.

"Lest you forget, Osamu has a black hole for a stomach. I'm on my period, so I have cravings." Saying this, you stare at the selection of ice cream.

"How about curfew?" You were such a stickler for rules, this was so new to him.

Shrugging, you picked up strawberry and chocolate brownie. "Osamu and I sometimes pass off as adults. Plus, this neighborhood tends to be complacent when it comes to curfew."

He smirks. "So you're using that to your advantage, huh? Smart girl."

Your only reply was bumping your shoulder against his, putting the strawberry ice cream in his hands. Which he decidedly takes.

Over your meals, the three of you share laugh, meals, and talks. Unable to help himself, and taking a page from his mother, Atsumu takes a selfie to commemorate the moment, uploading instantly to his social media.

To any other bystander – or whoever sees Atsumu’s selfie, it was nothing more than a teenage hang out with your childhood friend and brother. Rather picturesque of perfect innocence, measured smiles, occasional banter highlighted only by the lights of the sleepy convenience store, saturated by the spring evening.

A moment that sent a lurch down each of your hearts at the knowledge that moments like these were numbered. Caught up in the moment, Atsumu desperately wished for time to freeze, wishing his life was always like this.

Nostalgia filled the night, between childhood friends – like that year of silence meant nothing. It was enough to choke Atsumu, bring him to tears with how much he's missed this. Memories from his past painted into his present with bright hues and ink, he wanted them to stay, etched on his skin - unready to have them washed away when the morning comings.

Late-night snacks ended up with the twins sneaking their game console to the (L/N)'s household, talks continue even as you three were playing video games until the wee hours of the morrow, filled with more talks that piled conversation over conversation, talking as though they had a clue – leaving you all breaking into fits of silly laughter.

Just as you landed second in Mario Kart, Osamu conked out first.

"I swear, he sleeps like a fucking log," Atsumu says, watching you carefully set Osamu's head on your lap, patting his head gently.

Smiling softly, you carefully take the blanket you snuck and tucked him in, and yourself, too. Atsumu stood to turn off the console and the TV, filling the room in darkness. However, the glow from the moon outside was enough to illuminate the living room.

"You'll be heading off to Hiroshima, right?" he whispers, reaffirming the question thrown to you earlier that day, you nod. "Wow,” sitting next to you, on the edge of the sofa, he settles in. “big step."

"I figured that I'd like to open my horizon, have a new pace."

Atsumu remembered the peaceful look on your face when they had their class excursion there, smiling at the memory and a bit on the history of the city.

"Like a fresh new beginning, huh?"

Nodding, eyes beginning to droop, Atsumu carefully brings your head to his chest, falling back. "Like you...you'll be off to Osaka...for MSBY Black Jack'ls" you slur. "Osamu's staying here..."

Humming, he brushes away hair from your face, listening to your voice against Osamu's snores.

"You seem t'be doin' fine," he almost laughs at how thick your Kansai was when you were on the brink of sleep. "'ve always been." Taking an inhale, through your exhale you say, "you don't need me, Atsumu, you never have." and then you slipped off to sleep.

How he envied the friendship you had with Osamu, the one thing that connected you both in the first place. Taking your left hand in his, fingers slotting together, scarred fingers touching against each other, he noses at your forehead, lips a hairsbreadth away from your skin.

“Oh, you have no idea just how wrong you are, (Y/N).” lips pressed the lightest kiss, the moon and the stars as his witness. “I’ll always need you.”

You must've heard him in your sleep, because you were smiling, adorably. It was the last sight he saw before Atsumu slipped off, as well.

Dawn broke out slowly, as it always did in Hyogo, light streaming, searching almost for signs of life in the living room. With the sun slowly making its way up, light follows upwards, eventually finding three bodies knocked out in the living room - sleeping rather awkwardly with two boys sandwiching a girl, peaceful, lost in silence. Somewhat, it was a familiar sight.

Waking up to the smell of breakfast, Atsumu woke with a start, blinking wearily as he took in his surroundings. Right, he snuck out with Osamu and stayed over at the (L/N)’s.

Lifting his head, a ghost of a smile found its way on his face when a mop of (h/c) came to view, your hand still in his. Strands of hair littered your face, which he quickly swept away, causing you to stir.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" a cheery voice greeted from the kitchen. "Hope you like pancakes!"

Fresh out of bed, with her hair in a messy bun with an apron on was Mika, she looked pretty, adorable even. Atsumu should've been happy by the sight of this, captivated even. But he felt nothing.

At the mention of pancakes, Osamu sleepily lifts his head, in alert, eyes still pinched close. Slowly, you rose from Atsumu’s chest, having used it as a pillow last night, rubbing at your eyes.

“Mornin’ (Y/N),” he laughs.

Blinking your eyes open, with the sight of Atsumu in front of you, between his legs, realizing your sleeping position from last night, instantly your face heated, darkened. “A-Atsumu! A-Ah…Um…G-Good morning…” folding his legs back, he did a stretch, Osamu slowly coming to beside you. “Did you sleep well? Does your neck hurt? Your back?”

Your concern was honestly adorable – like your morning self, it made his heart warm.

“No worries, I slept great!”

True to his word, the rest of the morning went swimmingly over heaps of pancake and another selfie.

“I fear you’ll be taking after your mother in that aspect.”

“Wow, selfie whore.”

“SHUT IT, ‘SAMU!”

After breakfast, the twins had to head back home, to greet their grandparents while you started packing. When lunch came, the twins were back – freshly changed and all. At the sight of them, your mom couldn’t help gushing that ‘it takes me back!’ to which your uncle laughed at heartily, welcoming the boys in before they both left for work.

“Oi, Kaoru what’re you doing?” Osamu asked, watching how as your brother stood on a dining chair he grabbed, pushed it against the wall as he reached up, tying something by the window.

Squinting, you asked. “Is…that a teru teru bozu?”

“Yep!” he smiled, letting the doll face outside, getting another balled-up doll from his pocket. “Nee-san’s birthday’s in a few days, don’t want it to rain then!”

“Kaoru, aren’t you a little too old for superstitions?”

“I’m only 13!”

“Yes, but there’s no scientific proof that they prevent rain from coming. Plus, it’s spring, it’s not so hot of a season for rain to fall.”

Miffed by your explanation, he turned, nearly toppling over had he not righted himself quickly. “You don’t know that, nee-san!” Kaoru hopped off the chair, pouting at you.

“Yeah, what the brother boy said!” Atsumu seconded.

“Better safe than sorry!”

You could only sip on your drink in reply, hiding the smile. Osamu gave you a funny look, amused.

“Plus, it has to be sunny on nee-san’s birthday! We’re going to-“ before Kaoru could finish, Mika appeared, slapping a hand on his mouth.

“Hey, how about I make us pasta for lunch?”

Instantly, Kaoru’s face brightened. “Yay, pasta!”

“By the way, (Y/N),” she calls to you. “Reiki’s coming over with the pizza you like that his friend makes, the spinach one and garlic shrimp?”

At the mention of the aforementioned pizzas, your lips quickly quirk up. It was so hard to find those specific flavors around Kobe, the last time you had them was probably before Mika left. Thankfully, Reiki, being the social butterfly that he was, knew a lot of people.

“Your boyfriend has my many thanks,”

Mika laughs, making you realize a little too late on the words that left your mouth. Sliding your eyes to Atsumu, you were surprised to find that he seemed relatively fine, cordial even.

When Reiki came with the pizzas later, pasta ready and waiting, you all feasted, but not before Atsumu insisted on a selfie with everyone.

“I swear, you’re turning to Ma and it’s scaring me,” Osamu tells his brother with a disgusted frown.

“Watch your mouth, ‘Samu that’s still our Ma!” Atsumu angrily bites off his pizza. “Is it so wrong to capture moments frozen in time!?”

“Wow, that was a rather poetic way of saying it,” you noted, nodding your thanks at Reiki would gave you two slices each of the pizzas.

“Come on now, let’s not fight!” Reiki says calmly, undeterred by the twins. “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

A long-distance relationship seemed to work fine for your sister and Reiki. Clearly, distance makes the heart fonder with how lovey-dovey they seemed. A peek over at Atsumu, and you’d half-expect him to go batshit crazy. But no. If anything, he seemed perfectly fine.

“Atsumu, do you have a minute?”

As Atsumu walked off with your sister, you could only watch, lips quirking into a smile. For some reason, you felt fine with that, too.

It was probably when they first moved to Hyogo that Atsumu’s eyes fell to Mika, the ever-smiling, ever-kind oldest daughter. There were plenty of reasons to like her: she was pleasant, polite, pretty, smart, athletic, and kind. For years, Atsumu has always set her as his standard for his ideal woman, even assured himself that he was at her level (which shouldn’t be so hard, thanks to his genetics).

For the first time in the forever, he thought of finally confessing to her his feelings, that chance that he’s waiting for so long.

And yet, as the two enter the backyard, the door sliding shut behind him, Atsumu turns to Mika, with a question that’s been burning on to the back of his head for a while now.

"Why did you do it?"

"Huh?" Mika looks up in surprise, letting go of the door handle.

"Why'd you to talk to him?" Atsumu felt his patience running thin, anger building.

Mika's perfect face falls into confusion, exposing the cracks underneath. This was clearly not what she intended to talk about, but Atsumu didn’t care, he was leading this conversation now. Honestly, it feels like he’s finally seeing her for who she really is – for the first time, the rosy lenses he had of her were torn away.

Him, being their dad.

Pressing her lips together, a fist to her mouth, contemplating on her response. "...I just...I wanted..."

"A connection?" he finishes for her, an educated guess.

Mika nodded. "He's still my dad, you know? I just thought...I could get to know him..."

"And that hurt (Y/N) in the process," Atsumu threw out, rather impatiently, almost accusingly. "did you know that?"

Pain crosses over her face, bleeding through from her eyes down to the upturn of her lips, hands fisting on her chest.

"Maybe you wanted a relationship with him,” shaking his head, he thinks of you “but not (Y/N)." Of all his memories with you, one where he's caught your eyes on their dad, feeling his stomach twist at the longing in your eyes, hurt him the most. You may have had your uncle, but having your own father was a different thing. You told him that Mika was studying psychology, he couldn’t help but think how ironic that was.

"I'm not perfect, Atsumu."

Atsumu scoffed. "Don't I know that?"

He was an older sibling himself. Older by five minutes, he was still regarded as the oldest, has as much responsibility despite that minute difference.

"Older siblings aren't perfect," Mika says. "We make mistakes, we hurt people, even our siblings." She very clearly wanted to discuss something else, something that clearly wasn’t this. But now that Atsumu’s taken control, she felt herself lose rights.

"Did you tell him about our graduation?"

Mika fell silent, mouth pulled into a line.

That was enough of an answer.

Atsumu tried to imagine how the young you must have felt, the horrors you had to face, to witness, how your young, impressionable mind just paused and came to a screeching halt, to a horrible realization of how fucked up everything was now - he could only feel immeasurable pain, choking him. When that happened, did it also take away the life and spark in your eyes? The joy of life?

He loved his dad very much, his dad was one of the best men in his life who always encouraged him and Osamu to pursue their dreams, always at the frontline for them, and loved his whole family. Had he done what your dad did, he would also feel just as crushed. What he did was inexcusable – to you, to Mika, to your brother, to your mom. Scums like him didn't deserve a second chance.

"I can't believe you did that."

Without waiting for her to reply, Atsumu walked back inside the house, back to where his brother and you were.

Late at night, you stare up at the ceiling, hugging ‘Inari’ – the fox plushie given to you by the trouble children – close to your chest. Mind filled with thoughts, just swimming over you.

Earlier, Atsumu had walked back in the house, the same worrying smile from a few days ago, eyes losing its usual luster. Yet, he assured you that it was nothing, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Mika then walked back in the house, all smiles – but even she had a weary looking smile. Before you could approach her, Reiki rushed to her side and the two scurried to the kitchen. Thankfully, Kaoru, hadn’t picked up on this, busy trying to beat his two nii-sans in Smash.

Shifting your head to the side, to where Mika’s bed was, your sister was dead to the world, deep in her slumber – peaceful and calm. Lifting yourself from your bed, covers dropping, ever so carefully you dropped your feet to the cold floor. Still hugging Inari, you walked away from your bed and to one of the boxes, staring at the contents – some books, stationary.

Bending down, you dig through, careful not to make a sound. From the box, you pulled out a wooden picture frame, hand painted blue, with sunflowers sticking on the top left, a few petals on the upper and lower. And in frame was the photo of the Inarizaki Volleyball Club. It was taken the moment everyone returned from Tokyo. Smiling fondly, fingers smoothed over the sunflowers, taking in everyone’s smiles.

At the center of the photo was you, sandwiched between Atsumu and Osamu, wearing wide grins. When your juniors handed you the frame, you were so sure you’d break out then and there. But it didn’t end there, because Coach Kurosu – tears spilling down his face, gave you his gift, too. Gently setting Inari down, frame sitting next to him, you plucked a small, thick, black cloth.

Sitting crossed legged, you opened it up, smiling at the familiar kanji of the club’s motto.

‘We Don’t Need Memories’

“Such a powerful statement,” you whisper into the silence.

Kita once shared that he wasn’t a fan of the motto – being a man brought by the small things, on how doing the minimum on a daily basis is already enough of an assurance for any needless worries. Yet, it fires him up when he’s up with his team mates.

Coach Kurosu also mentioned, overly fond of the motto, that nothing should ever hold you back from the challenges that life will hurl at you.

Smoothing over the smooth kanji characters, a wave of memories rushed over you – first stepping into the gym, applying as manager the same time the twins had their try-outs, introducing yourself as manager before the twins engulfed you into a hug, seeing Aran again, meeting Kita and the rest of your seniors, meeting Suna, Ginjima, and the rest of the team, being there when the twins got their jerseys, their first official match, making your way to nationals, the twins debuting their dyed hairs, the incident, Kita’s captaincy, him berating you for resigning and convincing you to stay, the painful and cold second year, walking out during preliminaries, breaking down in the club room, having to tell Atsumu he was chosen for the Youth Camp, meeting Sho-chan at nationals, resigning only to be brought back, arcades with the trouble children, sunflowers given by the juniors on your birthday, training in Asano and Yoshimichi, training the new recruits, warmer days in the club, nationals with with Sho-chan, smacking Atsumu in the face, the retirement and turning over, graduation – so many great memories, good and bad. They were definitely the time of your life, if not, the greatest. A chapter that’s come to a close, but filled with so many turning points.

Patting the banner affectionately, a single tear slips down your face, landing on the banner, what a deep tangent you’ve found yourself in.

March 23, your birthday.

It fell on a Sunday, on a perfect sun shiny day, just as your family had expected.

On your birthday, it was decided that it would be spent at Sunflower Hill Park at Ono. Seeing as it was a special day, everyone had to dress their best – you included, being the birthday girl. Mika immediately busied herself prettying you up, even getting you to finally wear the dress that Kita had gifted you sometime back. It’s been gathering dust in the closet since he gave it, unsure on when to wear it.

“It’s just my birthday,” you grumbled, Mika immediately shushing you busily brushing your hair aside to work on your eyes, her face pinched into concentration.

“It’s not ‘just your birthday’, (Y/N).” she says, lighting brushing over your eyes. Setting down her eyeshadow palette, she picks up a blush set, instructing you to smile, exposing your dimples.

“19,” you say aloud, announcing to the world freely. “I’m at the peak of my adulthood.”

“You know, you’ve always been an adult all your life.” Mika teases, brush circling your dimples. “But that doesn’t mean you should be down on your birthday.”

“Studies show that it’s only natural to have birthday disappointments the older you get.” You rebuke, watching her frown cutely, setting her blush down, brandishing a mascara in her hand.

“And studies also show that you don’t always have to have that kind of mindset,” she rebukes back, twirling her mascara madly before taking out the wand. “Open your eyes and look up.”

Gulping, you do as she says, feeling the wand passing down your lashes.

“Birthday disappointments can also be stemmed from high expectations – either from childhood or from adolescence. And here’s the hard truth: you actually want to celebrate your birthday, but you just don’t know how to tell people.”

Capping her mascara, she instructs you to close your eyes, which you do, before you’re assaulted with a mist-like spray all over your face. When she tells you to open, you find yourself staring at yourself in the mirror – struck at the person staring back at you. Mika did a great job, highlighting your features, brightening your whole face, it was easy to see now the resemblance between you two.

“We’re not mind readers, (Y/N), we’re your family. And because we love you, we want to celebrate the day you came to bless our lives,” Mika smiles, smoothing your hair.

Helping you put on your dress, even lending you her sandals, she added some finishing touches like earrings and a sun brim hat.

“I look like those stereotypical animes shown in the summer.” You comment about your reflection in the mirror, to which Mika rolls her eyes at.

“Would you stop, you look beautiful!”

Taking her words with a grain of salt – seeing how pretty she was in her own dress, you smiled and the two of you walk out the room.

“Are you two done, now- Ah, how pretty!” coos your mother, pressing her hands to her mouth, eyes watering.

“Mom, you’re being dramatic-“

“My girls are so pretty! Especially the birthday girl!”

Beside you, Mika looks pleased with herself, especially at her work.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” says your mom, taking your face in her hands, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Swallowing down hard, fighting off tears that have strangely formed, you smile at her. “Thanks mom.”

“Alright, let’s go down now! Everyone’s waiting for us!”

Anxiety rose up, heart in your chest as you three descended the stairs, where you could hear people chatting about in the living room. Everyone was there – your uncle, Kaoru, Reiki, the Miyas, even the twins. It was Atsumu who saw you first, doing a double take, taking you in.

And then his mom squealed at the sight of you. “Ah!!!!! (Y/N)-chan, you look so pretty!” everyone turns to you, much to your horror. “Happy birthday, sweet girl!” she says.

“…thank you, Auntie.” Your voice was quiet, raspy.

Being the center of attention, everyone’s smiles on you was unnerving.

Self-consciously, you duck under their gazes, face burning.

To your surprise, your family had long planned this together with the Miyas. What made it extra special was the fact that it was just days after the three of you graduated and of Mika’s return. An outing of two families, in a field of little suns spread across the field.

At the sight of tall, bright yellow and brown flowers, your eyes sparkled in child-like wonder. Sensing your excitement, Mika, with her uncle’s camera slung around her neck, hooked her arm around yours, giggling and pulling you further in the park, leaving Atsumu and the rest to follow after.

The adults were discussing amongst themselves, discussing where they should set up, Reiki happily stuck around them, ever ready to help around, while Kaoru was running off to join his sisters. Alone with his brother, Osamu elbows him.

"Is something wrong with you and Mika-nee?" Osamu asks him, feeling the breeze against his skin.

On the way to Ono, with the twins, you, Mika, and Reiki, in Reiki’s car, there was a noticeable avoidance between Atsumu and Mika. However, the two easily played it off. Mika was busy chatting up with her boyfriend, Atsumu looked over your shoulder, as you answered birthday greetings.

Even way before that, the two of them were masterful in their way of seeming fine, but when they interacted, it felt rather stiff.

Sighing, Atsumu’s eyes found Kaoru, who was giggling as Mika was getting you to pose in front of flowers, you, clearly embarrassed, tried to talk your way out of it.

"I confronted her about their dad," Atsumu grumbles, hands in his pocket. Eventually, you caved in your sister’s whims, posing demurely, before Kaoru cheered you to try other poses.

Osamu's eyes widened. "Are you an idiot!? Why would you-"

"Did you know that she also told him about our graduation?"

Osamu stopped at that, at its implication, their eyes going to the older (L/N) sister, showing the photos to you.

"Damn."

"I know. Pretty shitty of her."

"Wow, 'Tsumu badmouthing Mika-nee, that's new."

Scoffing, he lifted his head to meet his brother’s. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Shrugging easily, Osamu explains, as their parents walk southward into the park, where an open area for picnic was. "Almost a year ago, you were nothing but praises for her, wouldn’t shut up about her on and on and on.” Breathing out a laugh, he shakes his head when he adds. “Heck, even if she farted you'd think it was cute."

Atsumu's face wrinkles, cringes. "That was before."

“Still,” walking ahead, he stares his brother down, feeling a chill run down his spine. “you never let us forget. Never let (Y/N) forget that.”

Up ahead, the (L/N) siblings were soon joined by Reiki, who took the camera from Mika, opting to take photos of the siblings. (Y/N), who was sandwiched between her older and younger sibling, all smiles for the camera.

“A year ago, it was as though your mission was to make (Y/N) feel so shitty about yourself, all because of your stupid little crush. It took her finally deciding to leave for you to snap out of it.”

Swallowing thickly, Atsumu vaguely remembered that moment of panic, like something had clawed into his chest. Immediately, he feels a sense of shame – for everything he had done to you.

"'Tsumu, you realize that you never said you're sorry to (Y/N), right?"

The hardest pill to swallow was realizing that despite the year he’s had, devoted to making up to you, it just wasn’t enough. Actions may speak louder than words, but just saying those words were just as important. Especially because it was worth noting that, sometimes, Atsumu’s actions can be contradicting to his words and may confuse you. You, who’s suffered quietly all this time, who forced themselves to power through, who unselfishly put others before yourself.

“I’m way past that now,” determination was thick in his tone, strong in his words.

Osamu felt proud to see it, loved to see it. They were nearing their parents – who finally found a nice picnic spot, just right next to the playground hustle.

"Didn't you say that Mika-nee was your one true love?" he couldn’t help but say, egging on his brother, never letting him down on his fuck up.

Osamu nearly fell back as Atsumu tackled him, slapping a hand to his mouth, lest anyone heard it. "KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SHITTY 'SAMU!"

"Wasn't she though!?"

"I was a kid!" he reasoned out. "I didn't know shit!"

"Clearly still don't now!" Osamu yelled slapping his brother's hand away from his face.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Now, now, Atsumu, Osamu, no fighting on (Y/N)'s special day!" calls their dad, hands on his hips. Beside him was their mom, smiling as she took photos of the sunflowers all around them.

"Oh, oh, oh, sweetie, let's take a photo with the birthday girl!" hooking her arm around her husband's she didn't give him time to back out before dragging him with her, smiling sweetly at her sons. "And no fighting, Atsumu, Osamu, it's a special day!"

Speaking of special day, Atsumu’s eyes turned to the fields, where you were – feeling his heart settle at your familiar frame, your gentle expression as you gazed at the vibrant yellow sunflowers. He remembered that field trip when they were younger, remembered where your eyes were staring, dug through the display when no one was looking and snuck it in his bag, feeling giddy all over, remembered the smile that came to your face.

It was brighter than any of the sunflowers.

Under the clear blue skies, the sun was shining bright, smiling down on everyone – especially a particular group down at Ono Sunflower Hill Park, circling a girl dressed in white, balloons in hands, all wearing smiles as they sang to greet her.

Their singing echoed out in the field, the wind carrying on their love for the girl in the middle, the girl whose heart was just filled with love with everyone around her.

A simple white cake, decorated in the same flowers that surrounded them was presented to her, and a single candle stood alit, waiting.

When the singing dwindled down, the girl stared at her cake, closed her eyes, and then blew.

She was now 19.

What a lovely day to be loved, feel loved, and be celebrated by love.

Emboldened by his talk with Osamu, brought also by epiphany, Atsumu finds himself carefully approaching Mika.

“Mika-nee, can we talk?”

Reiki, having sensed the mood, excused himself, but not before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead and taking Kaoru with him away from the playground.

Squirming under his gaze, remembering his blow-up on her days before, she fixes him a pleading look. "Atsumu, look, I don't want to fight with you-"

"I'm not sorry for blowing up on you like that, Mika-nee.” He starts, meaning every word. “But I am sorry for intruding into your family business. I just care for (Y/N), she's..." he swallows thickly. "she's been through so much."

Mika’s expression softens, eyes shining. "You really care a great deal about (Y/N), huh?"

“Always have, always will.”

“I’m glad.”

Mika smiles sweetly at him, fiddling with her hands. “It’s just…he’s still my dad, what he did was unforgivable, but the idea of reconnecting with him,” she sniffles, wiping a tear. “how could I not? And then I thought, that maybe (Y/N) would be on board with the idea…” she shakes her head, laughing incredulously. “Clearly, I forgot that I can’t force it on her, can’t fix the trauma he did.” Her face pinches, pained and regret.

The old Atsumu would have rushed and comforted her, assured her that she did great. Emphasis on the old, the Atsumu now just stared, letting her wallow on her mistake.

Covering her face, she groaned into it, before fixing herself up, slapping her cheeks together. “Wooh! How embarrassing of me! Looks like I’ve got a long way to go!” she laughs. Atsumu can’t help but laugh with her.

Even now, her ability to smile through the pain, shoulder her burdens, amazes him. There was a reason he admired this young woman before him, but seeing her open up to her flaws made him admire her even more.

And then he felt it, the urge, something clawing at his chest, words that needed to be said.

“Mika-nee, actually,” the older girl looks up at him, waits patiently. “I…I like you.” Back when he was younger, he had envisioned the perfect confession – something almost like this, with the sun setting behind them, painting them in the afterglow. That was one of his two options for confessing, the other being in the letter he poured his heart in, with your help. “I liked you, Mika-nee.”

It feels freeing to finally say that, to let the person know how much they meant to them. Even if it were no longer the case.

She smiles, sweetly again. “I know.”

Atsumu looks up at her, surprised. Mika’s smile remains.

“E-Eh?”

“I received your letter,” his eyes widen, confusion crawling over. “(Y/N) snuck it into my things before I left for the Netherlands.”

You did that for him? You.

Looking back, his eyes could only widen, realizing that it had been during the incident. Atsumu is assaulted with guilt all over again, brought by your unselfishness, just unsure with what he could say.

“I always thought that it would be the two of you, you know? You three were thick as thieves, enough to rival the three musketeers. But you and (Y/N)? I always felt like there was a great bond between you two.”

“N-Nee-san…actually…I-“ Everything he did to you in the year following the incident came to mind, his self-hate rising, Mika deserved to know.

Instead, she gently shakes her head. “It’s not me you should be telling that to, Atsumu. It’s (Y/N).” taking his arm in her hand, she cups his chin, (e/c) eyes meeting his honey browns, smiling and squeezing on to him arm encouragingly. “Go.”

Coming to, he nods and quickly starts running. Before fully leaving the playground, Mika calls him. “Oh, and Atsumu? Thank you so much for your feelings!”

“Osamu,”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you told me about your first love?”

“…yeah.” He sighs, heavily. “The umeboshi to my onigiri.”

“That’s a funny analogy,” with your arm over his, you leaned against his shoulder as the two of you walked along the pat. “but very fitting for someone you love.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. What’s yours?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you look to the field.

“Ah, yes.” Osamu nods, following your gaze. “Sunflowers.”

Leaning against his arm, you murmur. “…he’s my sunflower, Osamu.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything for a while, watching how Kaoru and Reiki raced beside them. Two people missing from their group. “I know he is.”

“And you’re my chicken noodle soup.”

He snorts, looking down at you. “Why?”

“It’s my comfort food, remember? Also, you’re my best friend. You should feel honored.”

“Strange analogy you got there.” He waves at his grandparents, enjoying themselves watch the children play in the fountains.

“Not as strange as your umeboshi and onigiri,” you remind him, teasingly.

Rolling his eyes at that, he can’t deny the gentleness of your voice, its weight and wistfulness.

“Thanks for being my best friend, Osamu.”

Patting his hand over yours, he replies. “Always.”

Breaking away, you smile gratefully at him. He lets you walk off from him, taking a new path.

“Stop sounding like you’re about to die, (Y/N). S’not funny.”

Laughing, you could only tuck your hands behind you. “I’m just feeling nostalgic!”

“Where’re you going?”

“For a walk!”

“Geez, aren’t you tired of walking?”

“Nope,” and you walk further in the new path, Osamu watches you go, but doesn’t follow.

With all his heart, he wishes, for your birthday, all the best for you. Keeping his eyes on white, it slowly shrinks as you walk further and further, away and away, until you were out of sight.

Huffing and puffing, he looked around wildly, searching for (h/c) in a white dress. Atsumu almost cursed at how big of an area the park was, felt pathetic that he was winded out after some runs – he was a fucking athlete, god damn it! About to join a pro-fucking-league-

"Are you looking for someone?" a voice asked him, turning, Atsumu nearly sagged in relief when he found who he was looking for.

You.

"You," he says breathlessly, lips stretched into a wide smile.

Your face scrunched into a light frown, wondering, before producing a handkerchief in your hands, patting his sweaty face. “Have you been running around the park?”

“Nah, just now.” Your frown softens a bit. “Like I said, I was looking for you.”

Tilting your head to the side, confused, you asked. “Why?”

Atsumu opened his mouth, only to stop, realization getting the best of him. Shiiiiiiit.

Suddenly shy, he laughed it off, nervously, uncaring that people were looking at him funny. Concerned washed over your features, which warmed him from the inside, especially with you looking at him all pretty like that. But heck, even without the makeup, you were something else.

“Come on,” you opened a hand to him, an invitation.

Atsumu stared at it, at the scar on your middle finger. Placing his in yours, his larger hand over yours, the two of you began to walk hand-in-hand. You took him by the fields, deep in, as though to hide you amongst the flowers, to be one with them, to a secret place for you both.

For all his life, he couldn’t imagine having to miss out on the feeling, like everything he’s known his whole life is nothing compared to the bright, vibrant yellows and browns around him, in the girl dressed in white, leading him through. And he let you.

How is it that he’s never noticed? Why had he never thought of seeing you? It feels as though he’s led a life blind.

With a tug, the two of you exit the field and into a clearing, all Atsumu can focus on was your smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you laugh, walking a few steps to the path. “walking across a sunflower field, I mean.”

Atsumu can’t keep his eyes off your smile, even as the both of you sit on the grass, facing the famed 'Sunflower Tower' made of Mikage granite.

The two of you found yourselves in your little hideaway, with nothing but the sky, the sun, the flowers, and the tower, and of course, each other.

“Sounds like something fresh outta a fairy tale,”

Nodding, you fold your legs, drawing your knees near. “Sunflowers are quite tall, after all. Tall and tough flowers.”

“Like me?”

Laughing, your turn to him, staring at him for a while. “Maybe. Especially with your blond dye.”

At the mention of his hair, he runs a hand through it. “…I’m, uh, thinking of keeping it.”

“You should,” your eyes follow his hands carding through his hair, dark roots slowly showing through. “it’ll be your signature look.”

Running a hand through the back of his hair, he fists them there, unable to look away from you.

You.

Amazing, smart, patient, kind, selfless, beautiful you.

“(Y/N)…” your name came easy through his mouth.

Tilting your head, letting strands of hair slip off your shoulders, you parrot back, “Atsumu…”

Just when did everything seem to feel different between you two? And just how long had he missed the way you look bathed in the sunlight?

Fidgeting a little, Atsumu could feel his strength leave him, being at the receiving end of your gaze. However, looking up, he also draws strength from them.

“I, uh, I kept them,” at your frowned confusion, he shyly – oh so quietly, adds, “your letters.”

Immediately, your face burns, feeling goosebumps run all over your spine. “Ugh,” slapping your hands over your eyes, you wish you could also slap the cringe away. “why.”

Atsumu smiles, despite your apparent horror, shrugging easily.

“It’s a reminder, I guess. A reminder that someone actually liked me. Genuinely and truly. Thought of me. Appreciated me. Written and practically poured her heart out in paper, when it’s the fucking twenty first century. Living proof that someone did that for me, but I was the asshole who humiliated her for something so genuine and heartfelt.”

You would’ve argued then and there, having seen the many love letters he and his brother received from his fan club over the years. And yet, the only one he recognizes are yours.

“Atsumu,” words were failing you, so you just sighed. “that’s behind us now.”

But the look on his face wouldn’t go away, eyes darkening – a dangerous storm brewing, festering.

"You can't return my feelings,” you say kindly. “that's not your fault neither is it your problem."

"Y-Yeah, but I could at least try to-"

"Atsumu, stop. Just, stop.” Turning to him, you take his hand in yours – the one with a scar, fingers rubbing comfortingly. “Please.” You’ve thought about it for a while, a long while, it needed to be said. “I'm not going to force you to like me back, it's not right and it's just wrong. Just because I liked you doesn't mean you're obligated to return my feelings when you clearly don't like me like that. That's that."

"B-But-"

"Besides, I've already accepted it – that my feelings can't reach you." swallowing down it all - the heartache and pain, you lifted your gaze and offered a smile. "If all you're worried about is me forgiving you, rest assured that I have."

"But I don't deserve your forgiveness!" he all but screams, shocking you, his eyes were wet and filled with so much remorse, pain, helplessness, and regret. "I've been an ass to you, (Y/N)! I hurt you while you were already hurting," he remembered having to listen to your cries, muffled behind your hands, the forced smiles, the pained look in your eyes, your back turned to him, his panic of not being able to find you during practice. The realization of the distance between both of you because of him. "I walked around you even though you were breaking from the inside. I might as well be worse than your deadbeat, asshole of a father because I wasn't there for you. I hurt you just as he did! I failed you! I-I-"

A gentle hand touched his elbow, shaking him, he looks up, meeting your kind (e/c) gaze. And that smile, that same kind smile that stretched to your eyes, reflecting an oh so loving gaze he knew he didn't deserve. Even without saying a word, you understood everything he wanted to say, all the sorries that's been resting on his tongue, heavy with the weight of his sins, of the burdens of hurting you, of the love he's had and continue to have for you.

He didn't deserve you.

You didn't deserve him.

But you both loved each other just as much.

"(Y-Y/N)," his voice was barely a whisper, wet and croaking. "I'm so sorry...!"

Enveloping you into a hug, he cries into your shoulder, repeatedly saying “I’m sorry” over and over again.

And you just hold him, caressing his head with your other hand.

“I’ll always love you, Atsumu,” your confession just tore at him, tears leaking more. “you will always be my first love, and that will never change.”

Atsumu hugs you tighter, cries harder. “I love you, too.”

When you let go, there was a smile on your face – a radiant, bright, reflected in your eyes that it brightened up your whole face. Like a sunflower greeting the sun, Atsumu found himself smiling, too. Released from the embrace, in his eyes, he feels his heart fill with a bittersweet sense of warmth and twinge.

Despite it all, it still felt good. It felt really good. Talking to you, settling things with you, loving you – it felt right.

Certain people come into our lives whether we like it or not, and you were no exception.

Sadly, just because you came into their life doesn’t automatically guarantee that they’ll stay with you forever. You can only have them for a time.

One of them may end up as your first love, but it's not guaranteed that they will be your last. They'll be just that - your first love, the first person you offered your heart to, but not the person who gets to keep it.

You were his forever person, the first love he realized too late.

end.

240 notes · View notes

yellowsuitcase · 3 years

Text

Bliss // Draco Malfoy

Request: i was thinking it would be really cute if the plot is like it’s draco and y/n 1 year anniversary and they’ve never ya know and so they both decide they’re ready before their anniversary rolls around so on their 1 year he makes the day special and all romantic and the room with rose petals and everything and is super loving and careful and sweet with her since it’s their first time

A/N: This sat in my drafts half-finished for so long and I fINALLY got around to finishing it, thank god. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: It’s Y/N and Draco’s one year anniversary and they have big plans.

Warning(s): SMUT!!! Loss of virginity (male & female), swearing, (pretty) soft sex.

Word Count: 2.9k

{Not my gif}

Y/N’s leg was jumping up and down as she sat in her last lesson. She’d been anxious the entire day. It was early March, the second to be exact. This happened to be her and Draco’s one-year anniversary, and the pair had big plans for that night. A few days ago, Draco had asked Y/N if she was ready. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was implying. They had agreed early into their relationship that sex wasn’t a must-have for them. But after a year of being absolutely infatuated with one another, they decided their anniversary would be the perfect day.

Now that the day had come, though, Y/N realized she was terrified. She feared it wouldn’t be good that she wouldn’t be good. However, she also knew she loved Draco and that if he truly loved her too, she had nothing to worry about. Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by the bell. Without hesitating, Y/N dashed from Flitwick’s classroom and started making her way towards the library. Draco had explicitly instructed her not to come to the common room until after dinner, so she had quite some time to kill. What better to do to distract her than burying herself in her schoolwork?

Y/N took a seat at a desk in front of the far-end bookshelves. Snape had assigned yet another essay. With a sigh, she pulled out parchment from her school bag as well as her quill and got to work.

-------

Y/N woke with a start. She found herself lying on top of her essay, a bit of drool had dribbled onto it. Hastily, she wiped her mouth and took in her surroundings. She was still in the library. “Fuck,” she muttered. The sun wasn’t in the sky anymore; the only light in the library was from the sparsely placed candlesticks. Y/N sighed and began packing up her things, ready to take a nice shower before bed. However, as she was stuffing her quill back into her bag, she remembered Draco. A steady stream of cuss words flew from her mouth as she jumped up from her seat and ran out of the library. Fuck, I’m gonna be late. Will Draco be upset with me? Fucking hell, how did I even fall asleep? She asked herself as she dashed down the dungeon steps.

Soon enough, however, she arrived at the door to the Slytherin common room. She uttered the password and practically threw herself through the entryway, causing some Slytherins to look at her. Y/N paid them no mind; she made a beeline for the boys' dormitory, not stopping until she reached Draco’s room. It was only then that she was able to take a deep breath and prepare herself for what was to come. She was feeling so many different emotions all at once; excitement, anxiety, eagerness, fear. Yet, despite all that, she placed her hand on the door handle and turned it open.

She was expecting to see Draco sat at his desk, but what she saw instead brought tears to her eyes. The room was dark, only lit by candles. Soft music was playing from a record player, and upon looking at the floor, Y/N saw scattered rose petals that led all the way to Draco. He was standing across from her dressed in a casual yet charming green sweater, his hands behind his back. “Hi,” he said. Y/N, whose hand was over her mouth, shook her head.

“Draco, this is...you didn’t have to do this,” she replied as she began walking towards him. He, too, started walking until both of them met halfway. Y/N looked up at him and saw him smiling at her fondly. Then, he drew his hands from behind his back and presented her with a red rose. She gasped and gently took it from his hand. “Draco, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t have time to grab your present, I fell asleep in the library, and I thought I was gonna be late, so I—”

Draco placed a finger over her rambling mouth, silencing her. “You are all I need. And I don’t care that you’re late, you’re here, and that’s what matters,” he whispered, pulling her close to his chest. Y/N released the tension in her shoulders as Draco began stroking her head, his arms wrapped around her, making her warm. She felt so unbelievably lucky to have a boyfriend like the one cuddled against her. Of course, she’d heard about romantic gestures such as this, and she’d definitely seen them in movies, but never ever did she think someone would do it for her.

Slowly, Y/N felt Draco pull away. She looked at him expectantly and watched as he gulped. He looked nervous. “Are you ready, love?” he asked, his voice barely audible. Y/N could see that he was afraid. She nodded and took his hand into hers.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I must admit I am a bit...afraid, I guess.” Y/N was shocked that he had just confessed this to her. Typically, it would take hours of poking and prodding to get Draco to admit he was fearful of anything. Yet, he’d just willingly declared it to her. She planted a soft kiss onto his knuckle.

“I am too. But I trust you,” Y/N assured him. He couldn’t fight the toothy smile that appeared on his face.

“I trust you too,” he replied. Y/N held her breath as Draco leaned in close. She closed her eyes and felt herself melt as he pressed his lips against hers. Her arousal had been growing all day, and despite her nerves, she couldn’t help but moan when he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She felt him smile as his hands found her waist. A shiver ran down her spine as his cold hands slid upwards beneath her school shirt. Y/N kissed him eagerly, but Draco retained his slow pace. His hands caressed her body as they searched for her bra. She gasped into his mouth as his nimble fingers found it and shakily unhooked the clasp. He dragged her bra off her shoulders and down her front, pulling away to toss it elsewhere.

Y/N found herself growing confident; she reached for Draco’s sweater and yanked it upwards, successfully untucking it from his pants. He laughed as she pulled it up and off his body, leaving his chest bare. Giving in to her temptations, she put her hands on his chest, feeling his heated skin.

Draco pulled her against his body and dove his head forward, connecting his lips with Y/N’s neck where he began sucking. She closed her eyes and started rubbing her thighs together, desperate to hurry things up, but Draco wasn’t having it.

“Slow down, darling. We have all the time in the world,” he told her, his voice sweet and comforting. Y/N groaned as he reached behind her and grabbed her ass, squeezing it playfully. He ignored her pleas for him to touch her and instead began undressing her further. Her shirt went first, and Draco immediately felt her breasts, kneading gently.

"For a virgin, you are quite eager, aren't you?" he teased, making Y/N blush.

Y/N loved the feeling of his hands on her, and she found it pretty funny how his eyes gleamed at the sight of her tits. But then his hands traveled downwards, fondling the hem of her skirt. Y/N looked down, waiting for him to pull the fabric off her, except he didn’t. Instead, his finger guided her face upwards. He laughed at her confused expression.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked as he tapped her clothed hip, a smirk on his lips. Y/N nodded, she knew what was coming, and even though she was afraid, she knew Draco was gonna make her feel good. With her permission, her boyfriend slipped his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and her panties. He kissed her gently as he slowly pulled the fabric down her hips, her thighs, and all the way to the floor. Y/N blushed; she was now acutely aware of her nakedness and couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

It seemed as though Draco noticed this since he hastily reached for his belt, undoing the buckle and shoving his pants down, letting his cock spring free. Y/N bit her lip when she saw how hard he was, how hard she made him. Now that he was naked, Draco reached for her hand. He gripped it firmly as he led her towards the bed. Y/N crawled onto it and laid on her back, immediately crossing her legs. Draco tutted as he, too, got on the bed.

“Don’t hide from me, love. You’re beautiful, and I want to see all of you, please." Y/N could tell his words were genuine, so she slowly spread her legs, exposing her bare pussy to him. “Bloody hell, Y/N. I’m so glad I get to be your first.” Y/N felt the urge to close her legs again, his words sending butterflies to her stomach. But instead, she reached up and pulled his face close to hers. They kissed sweetly, softly. Draco was nearly dizzy from the anxiety running through his veins, but her kiss helped calm his nerves. When she pulled away, he inhaled deeply.

“What?” Y/N asked worriedly. Draco shook his head, dismissing her concern.

“Can I...can I touch you?” he asked, his voice cracking. He had been confident when Y/N first came to his room, but now that they were actually about to do the deed, he felt ten times more afraid.

Y/N felt her heart speed up, but she gave him a nod and watched as he positioned himself between her legs. What she wasn’t prepared for was the shock of pleasure when his fingers stroked her labia. “Holy shit,” she breathed shakily. Draco glanced up at her in panic, ceasing his movements. However, when Y/N bucked her hips against him, he continued stroking. He kept his steady motion until he felt his finger brush up against something. Hesitantly, he placed his fingertip on top of it and gently circled it.

“Oh!” Y/N gasped. She closed her eyes and grabbed Draco’s forearm, holding him still. He stopped his finger and, with his other hand, began stroking Y/N’s thigh.

“What’s wrong? Did it hurt?” he asked, feeling panic return. But then Y/N shook her head.

“No, that’s my clit. Do it again, please,” she begged, her muscles tense. Draco did as she asked and began rubbing his finger against and around her clit. He watched in amazement as she bucked her hips and began squirming, soft breaths falling from her lips. Draco switched his finger out for his thumb. While still stimulating Y/N, he slowly slipped his pinkie finger inside her.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered.

“You’re so tight,” Draco told her as he began sliding his pinkie in and out, slowly but steadily prepping her. After a few minutes, he gradually added another. A sharp hiss from Y/N, however, stopped him in his tracks. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically.

“It hurts-”

“We can stop; it’s okay,” Draco quickly cut in. But Y/N shook her head adamantly.

“No, I want to do this. The pain has already started to fade just...just go slow, okay?” Draco leaned forward and pressed quick kisses all over her face, not stopping until a smile appeared on her lips.

“I’ll go as slow as you want me to darling, I’ve got you,” he assured her as he started rubbing her again. Y/N nodded and bit her lip as the tingly feeling returned. She couldn’t help but roll her hips, wanting more friction. Draco took this as a hint to add another finger, so he slipped his middle digit inside. He had to take a moment to close his eyes when he saw Y/N’s pussy clench around his fingers. “That feels good, love?” he asked.

“It’s starting to. Keep going,” Y/N replied. He heeded her words and slowly began expanding his fingers within her, stretching her out. Y/N continued rolling her hips and breathing heavily. In and out, in and out. When Draco deemed her properly prepared, he withdrew his fingers, causing Y/N to whine. He laughed lightly as he reached towards his nightstand and reached into the drawer. Y/N’s eyes watched as he pulled out a condom and ripped the paper, but just as he was about to roll it on, she grabbed his wrist.

“Let me,” she whispered. Draco had to hold back a moan as she slipped the condom from his hands and placed it on the head of his dick. He gripped the bed sheets and watched his girlfriend gently slide her hand down his cock, bringing the condom with it. Draco thought he might lose himself just from that, but he quickly closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. When he opened them again, he found Y/N laying on the bed again, legs spread. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking if she was ready. She replied by making grabby hands towards him.

Excitedly, Draco grabbed her thighs and pulled her body towards him until her pussy touched his dick. Y/N gasped and, before she could control herself, bucked her hips. “Shit, if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to hold back,” Draco warned. Y/N completely ignored him and proceeded to grind on him, letting her body give in to her urges. Her boyfriend groaned and savored the feeling before pulling away. He then rubbed his fingers against her. “You’re so wet,” he remarked as he used her arousal to lube up his cock. Once he finished, he looked up at Y/N.

“You ready?” he asked, checking in once more just to make sure.

“Yes, please. I want to feel you,” Y/N whined. That was all Draco needed to hear. He aligned the tip of his cock with her entrance and, while taking a deep breath, pushed himself inside, not stopping until all of it was swallowed by her cunt.

“Motherfucker, you’re so big, oh my god,” Y/N cursed, her eyebrows scrunched together as she waited for her body to adjust to his size. Draco gripped her thighs, trying to hold himself back from pulling out and slamming back into her. She felt so good around him. He could feel her walls pulsing against his cock; it was beginning to drive him wild. But then Y/N started wriggling and moaning.

“Move,” she demanded. Draco wasted no time; he pulled his hips back until only his tip was left inside her, then he slowly pushed forwards, groaning as his dick was once again enveloped in her hot pussy. “You feel fucking amazing, Y/N, shit,” he cussed, continuing to fuck into her steadily. Y/N didn’t reply; she felt breathless as he slid in and out of her. And when his hand returned to her clit, she nearly screamed. The room filled with sweet sounds of moans and pants as the couple made love.

“Faster Draco, please,” she begged, reaching for his hand. Draco quickly intertwined his fingers with hers and gripped her tight. He began to pick up his pace, watching as Y/N arched her back and moaned. “I think I’m getting close,” she whimpered. This made Draco go even faster, her words egging him on.

“So tight around me, baby. So fucking good,” Draco babbled, his teeth gritted as he slammed inside her. Y/N lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, allowing him to get a deeper angle into her pussy. She let out little yelps each time his cock hit that spot inside her. She knew her orgasm was approaching. With the way Draco was rubbing her clit and pounding her cunt, there was no way she’d last long.

Draco took notice of Y/N’s desperate moans and clenched fists. “Let go, darling. Cum for me, cum on my cock, baby,” he husked, encouraging her. Y/N shut her eyes and squeezed Draco’s hand as her body jolted, and her orgasm washed over her. The pure blissed-out look on her face sent Draco into a frenzy. He clenched her hand tight and sent a few more sloppy hard thrusts into her before he too reached his high, moaning loudly as he did.

Each of them halted their movements, desperately trying to catch their breaths. Eventually, Draco pulled out and disposed of the condom. Then he flopped down onto the bed beside Y/N, gently pulling her into his arms where he hugged her tight and pressed soft kisses to her nape.

“I love you so much, that was...fucking insane,” he whispered, smiling when he heard her giggle.

“It was way better than I ever could’ve expected. I love you too, Dray. Thank you.”

Y/N turned around in Draco’s embrace and faced him. She reached up and stroked his face, completely enamored by him. Never had she felt so safe, so blissful. There was nobody else she would’ve wanted to lose her virginity to, and she was so glad he had lost his tonight as well. Sure, it was sweaty, awkward, teenage sex. But it was loving and gentle, and most importantly, it was with the love of her life. Sleep soon started to overtake her, and her thumb stopped rubbing Draco’s cheek. But Draco was drifting away too. The couple entered dreamland peacefully, their still sweaty limbs entangled with one another's.

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#draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x yn #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfiction #draco fluff #draco x you #draco smut #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco malfoy fluff

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idanit · 3 years

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possibly underappreciated Good Omens fics I enjoyed once upon a time

Indirectly inspired by a video series about fanfiction I watched, I decided to pull together a list of Good Omens fics I have bookmarked as stories I enjoyed, but which have less than 250-300 kudos at the time I’m writing this. No particular order. They’re accompanied by short excerpts from my private fic reading notes (not originally intended to be read by anyone but me, mind), sometimes slightly edited for clarity—and, sometimes, the comments I left on the fics.

This list sat in my drafts for a long time and the recent S2 announcement reminded me of it. I’d love it if it inspired you to do something similar! Spread the love.

And mind the tags, please.

△ = general and teen ▲ = mature and explicit

thermodynamic equilibrium ▲ 7K the author has such an ear for dialogue and is unapologetic about what they want to write the characters like. They think of the characters as a mix of TV and book canon, but they feel like a homemade blend to me. (...) It’s very funny.

such dear follies ▲ 6K I can really picture this Aziraphale—Crowley as well, but her especially. She’s rather distinct. (...) Nice writing.

The Words Were With - △ 1.2K post-Blitz vignette, Aziraphale realizes what he feels and wonders if they're human enough for this. I liked it, and I liked the tag "transhumanism, but in reverse?", too—what an interesting idea. I'd say it's a vignette in a dire need of a follow-up, but, well, there's the show. The show is the follow-up. It fits very nicely within the canon and I totally believe it could have happened, like a deleted scene.

Gossip and Good Counsel △ 19K/? I love their companionship and how they're set up to be opposites by the management even though they get on pretty well. It feels very in keeping with the canon, but I feel like the fact that it's an F/F set in this particular time period adds a meaningful layer to the situation. It's women supporting each other in the world of men, working with the personas that are created for them, but, privately, being normal, well-rounded people. (...) and of course your writing is always a pleasure to read. (...) SDHDGDHDHDG Maisie is truly an Aziraphale.

Crowley Went Down to Georgia (he was looking for a soul to steal) △ 6K This was nice. Based on a song I didn’t know. Crowley goes to a funeral in the USA, one of a fiddler he knew and lost a bet to once. (...) The fic has not one but two songs composed for it and embedded inside it and that makes it even better. I really enjoyed the experience.

The Thing With Feathers △ 18K WARLOCK you'rE HORRIBLE AND I LOVE IT I would read an entire novel-length fic just of Crowley fighting his battles with Warlock. Written like this? It would be a blast. (...) The OCs are believably characterized and well-loved by the story. (...) Everyone seems to need a friend in this house. (...) This was so fun, and at the same time, their mission has weight here (...) We wonder about what the future holds even though we know it.

Here Quiet Find △ 11K This fic aimed for my head and the aim was sure precise. It was a story of Crowley sensing Aziraphale's distress and finding him in a self-quarantined English village in the seventeenth century, tired and anxious. It's hurt/comfort, so there was washing and bedsharing and I had to love it, so I did.

outside of time △ 2K Post-Almostgeddon, (...) nicely-written, short, but strung with a soft kind of tension and unspoken words. There's no drama, just "can we really", and "do you really" of sudden freedom. They fall into being inseparable. Book canon, which I like for this story (sitting on a tarmac). I liked the footnotes. There's a mention of Eliot. All in all, very much yes.

She'asani Yisrael △ 2K It’s Crowley going through a two-hour service and drinking blessed wine. He also keeps an eye on a boy he was asked to. It’s 1946. It was pretty good, so far the best Jewish GO fic, I think, from the ones I’ve read.

To Guard The Eastern Gate △ 11K I loved it. You really made Sodom feel lived-in; the description of Keret, Hurriya and Yassib's house and relationship were great. I got attached to both them and the city (...) Aziraphale and Crawley’s interactions were generally very entertaining. I laughed (...) Your rendering of their voices just lands so well (...) But then oh, the entire ending (...) hurt, hurt a lot, and your descriptions are so vivid.

If you’ve been waiting (for falling in love) △ 14K AAAAA a good ending line. The whole paragraph, in fact. I love a good smattering of philosophy in my fics, and this was really nice. I can get behind Thomas Aequinus's and Crowley's view on eternity. It's (...) a pretty simple fic (...) - the courage to express yourself and take a risk is awarded with winning what was at stake by the virtue of reciprocity - but the way it was intertwined with a study of how they would experience a forever was done well.

Holy unnecessary ▲ 2.2K It's well-written. (...) this is my type of sexual humour if I have any. So subtle. Blink and you'll miss it. Lovely.

The Parting Glass △ 17K Through the ages, they're dancing around their relationship until after the Armageddoff. (...) Wow, this was really, really nice. Very simple in its concept and nothing I haven't read before, but very well-executed. (...) AAAAH I LOVED the first chapter. I always like abbeys as settings, that's a given, but the banter, the good writing, the moral ambiguity!

Name The Sky △ 33K This Crowley is different, but very intriguing. Without his sarcastic talk, and much more animalistic. (...) I love how expressive Crowley is. (...) This fic has a very nice balance of drama and levity. I don't love Crowley-before-the-Fall stories very much, but with this execution I can read about it. (...) Okay I've read Crowley offering fruits, and even Aziraphale biting fruits, but the two of them sharing the apple? Outstanding. Ingenious. What a take.

A Flame in Your Heart △ 5K post-Blitz (why are so many dance fics post-Blitz?), they go to the bookshop and have an actually believable conversation. Then they dance the gavotte. It was really nice! Believable writing, emotions, the dancing! (...) Of course it's too early for them, (...) but the author's note? yeah.

Put down the apple, Adam, and come away with me ▲ 32K At this point it's just reading original stories with characters with names and some personality traits that I recognize. (...) I really enjoy this, the careful dance, the opposition between their views. (...) This is well-written, wow. (...) it's not an easy read (...) this story feels very believably 50s, but also reaches out to the present time.

Liebestraum ▲ 10K/? It really is like music. I'm enjoying the writing a lot. (...) oh my actual god. This, this? Wow, uh. This came for my throat. (...) THE MUSICAL COMPOSITION, THE MOTIF RETURNING, THE AUTHOR KNOWS WHERE IT'S AT (...) Excellent. This hits the right beats so precisely, (...) and with feeling, too.

Down Comforter △ 2.4K and they lay down in angeldown, a soft rug ‘neath their heads– alright. Well, Crowley lies under Aziraphale's wing on a Persian rug after the Apocalypse, and they talk (...). It was sweet.

The Corsair of Carcosa △ 5K Crowley wakes up from a nap, visits Aziraphale for some drinking, and they read The King in Yellow that he happens to own. Good writing, so I'm bought. Aziraphale mentions Beardsley, so I'm bought twice over. My god, a discussion of etheral/occult madness? Caused by some wrong/true reading? Yes.

Very Good, Omens! △ 6K It's rather well-written, well-pastiched. People don't do that too often, nowadays - try to write in the style of a particular writer. (...) I love wordplay like this.

Reviving Robin Hood: The Complicated Process of Crème Brûlée △ 30K it's well-written (...), has a rhythm to it, and quiet humour. (...) Finally some nice, good, light writing. The attention to detail! (...) I'm still reading most of it aloud, the rhythm of it compels me to. (...) okay this does sound like Pratchett&Gaiman, the Good Omens itself (...) The fic is meandering, hilarious, sensitive in all the right places, and overall lovely.

my dear acquaintance △ 1K Oh. Oh. Yes, yes! Aziraphale in Russia, Russia I've never been in, but I can feel the snow and the evening of. Very real, and the bar, too. Attention to detail - vodka flavoured with dill, what on earth? Yes. He would totally have a distinct taste in operas and he would totally complain about a subpar one. I'm glad Tchaikovsky's there.

there is a crack in everything △ 1.8K This was good! Ah. Inspired by a comment (...), I went looking for Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese fics—really, what a big brain moment someone had and why have I never thought to look for them? This is Crowley getting suddenly anxious and Aziraphale going out of his way, through all his layers of not-thinking and denial, to console him. I also really liked how the Arrangement is a carefully unacknowledged partnership-marriage.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Scars △ 6K No conflict, no plot, one tiny arc like a ripple on the surface of water on a calm sunny day - of Aziraphale discovering Crowley’s scars. It's the South Downs and it's early summer. They bask and swim in a spring. Non-sexual nudity, love in the air like a scent. Nice.

Nineteen Footnotes In Search Of A Story △ 0.4K This is a Good Omens story told only through footnotes. Your mind can fill in the gaps. Fascinating (...). Also, it’s an experiment so apt for this particular fandom.

Hell on Earth △ 6.5K Oh, I loved it! How could I not love it: it's Beelzebub-centric, it's historical, it has classical painting, and even a hilarious scene with a cuneiform phrase, as if I didn't enjoy this story enough already. There are so few Beelzebub fics out there and I find searching for them very difficult (I accept recs if anyone has any), and it's such a shame, so this was really like a gift to the fandom. I absolutely adore the way you portrayed them, small, frightening, powerful, and confident. Also, it was super fun to see how different Crowley seems when we're not in his POV or in a story about him and Aziraphale. (...)

Go Up to Ramoth-Gilead and Triumph △ 24K Daegaer is... pure class. (...) hdhdhdh what pfttt why you so funny (...) I love this Crowley. (...) This got unexpectedly intense. (...) I love the little nods to the fact that Israelites, especially the poorer ones, still believe in other gods. I also really like that they sleep on roofs. It's just the kind of detail that grounds the story and shows that the author is, in fact, a historian.

#good omens #good omens fic rec #fanfiction #fic rec #idanit reads #i also have a multifannish F/F rec list in the works #all my bookmarks are private but i feel the need to share the love

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ibijau · 3 years

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Concubine nhs pt6 / on AO3

“What if you lived here,” the emperor says as he peppers with kisses the crook of Nie Huaisang’s neck. “I could arrange to give you quarters of your own. You’d get to spend your time as you please, you’d only see the people you want to see, and it’d be easier to be together.”

Nie Huaisang hums, tracing patterns on the other man’s sweaty back, enjoying the warmth and closeness. He’s never actually complained against Nie Funyu, but the emperor might have picked up on his reluctance whenever it’s time to go home. Or maybe he didn’t notice, and just wishes to have him more at his disposition. They’ve counted themselves lucky when they could see each other once a week in the nearly two months since they’ve become lovers. The emperor is often busy during the day, and worries too much about Nie Huaisang’s reputation to make him stay at night. He doesn’t want the Nies to get the wrong idea, he’s explained, even if in this case the wrong idea would be the right one.

It’s sweet of him. The emperor would probably be horrified to learn that Nie Funyu has given him spring books, ‘for inspiration’, and encouraged him to ask for advice to Meng Yao, whose mother was a courtesan.

There are many things the emperor doesn’t need to know.

At least, the war against the Wens seems to be going well. Nie Mingjue has captured a strategic city already… though the Wens apparently have shown signs that they might attack the lands under Jiang Fengmian’s protection, and if they succeed that could be a serious threat to commerce. Nie Huaisang has spent a couple of sleepless nights peering over maps, trying to guess what his brother’s strategy might be. They might need to rely on the armies that are under Jin Guangshan’s command, which won’t be pleasant because he’s a prick and difficult to work with, but his son is engaged to the young lady Jiang, so maybe…

“Huaisang, what do you think then?” the emperor asks, rising on one elbow to look at his lover’s face. “About living here?”

“I think your uncle won’t like it.”

“This isn’t about him, and I’ll deal with him if needed. Do you like it?”

A home of his own wouldn’t be unpleasant, Nie Huaisang figures. It would make it harder for people to order him around, and he wouldn’t have to report everything he does when he’s alone with the emperor. On the downside, it means being forced to follow protocol and learn a whole new set of rules to avoid getting in trouble in the imperial palace, where people are ever so attentive to rank and constantly plotting for their own schemes. It also means losing Meng Yao, the only friend he’s managed to make since coming to the capital.

“I don’t want people to think of you badly,” Nie Huaisang says, and means it. He doesn’t like hearing the emperor insulted. “They’ll say you brought in a servant’s son as your whore when you won’t even take a wife.”

“I don’t want a wife, I want you,” the emperor replies with such sincerity that Nie Huaisang can only smile at him and steal a kiss. The emperor allows that kiss, but ends it before it can turn heated, an air of concern on his face. “If you don’t want to live here, just say no.”

“Hm.”

“But if you’re scared of what people might say, then I’ll make this as official as can be. I can’t take you as my wife, but there have been male concubines in the past. You’d have every honour that I can bestow upon you, a monthly allowance, your own quarters, as many servants as you’d like… People would owe you the same respect they’d owe anyone else in my household.”

That’s probably not as much respect as the emperor thinks. Having lived so much of his life as a servant, Nie Huaisang has overheard a lot of gossip and is only too aware of what people say about that sort of situation. He’s heard his father chat with his guests about the many whore of their good friend Jin Guangshan, or share stories about the old emperor and his tragic romance that elicited more laughter than compassion.

And that’s just what nobles share among themselves. Servants are just as ruthless when talking about their masters. Nie Huaisang knows what people said about his father for taking a pretty servant girl into his bed a whole winter, even talking about marrying when she became pregnant, before eventually sending her back to her old job after deciding he didn’t want to divide Nie Mingjue’s inheritance. If Nie Mingjue himself hadn’t become fond of his bastard brother and insisted on seeing him legitimised... and people gossip about that, too.

People are mean.

“What if you change your mind about me?” Nie Huaisang asks.

The emperor looks sad and brings a hand to Nie Huaisang cheek, caressing his face with unbearable tenderness.

“I won’t. I’m sure about the way I feel.”

Nie Huaisang says nothing. People are always sure at first, always ready to say whatever it takes to get a pretty little thing in their bed, until someone prettier comes around and catches their attention…

But the emperor isn’t people. He’s someone who means what he says, and his every action make it clear that this isn’t just about sex. He’s so genuinely happy when they’re chatting, when they’re playing a game, when he gets to make Nie Huaisang try some new food. Even today the emperor was more interested in painting together, and they probably wouldn’t have made love if Nie Huaisang hadn’t seduced him.

Nie Funyu scolded him after the one visit that didn’t end up in bed, accusing him of not putting in the effort, of being selfish, of risking his brother’s life by not giving in to the emperor’s every whims. So now, Nie Huaisang is careful, even though he’s half sure he doesn’t need to be.

The emperor is not like other men.

It’d be easier if he were. It’d be just a transaction, which Meng Yao says is the best way to deal with those situations. When feelings get involved, things become messy, he said, and made Nie Huaisang promise not to do something stupid like falling in love.

It might be too late for that, but Nie Huaisang promised anyway.

“If you don’t want to live here, it’s fine,” the emperor says when Nie Huaisang has been silent for too long. “Just know that I’m willing to give this to you. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“I want to run away with you,” Nie Huaisang replies too fast. “Far away from here, and hide from everyone we’ve ever known.”

The emperor sits up, a sad smile on his lips. It’s unfair that he’s beautiful even when he’s sad.

It unfair that Nie Huaisang can’t have the only thing he really wants.

“What about your brother?”

Nie Huaisang stretches, and wrinkles his nose. It’s getting late, he realises, looking through the window. He needs to wash and get dressed so he can leave. He doesn’t want to.

“I guess Mingming is allowed to visit us sometimes. But only if he’ll keep the secret.”

With a short laugh, the emperor takes Nie Huaisang’s hand and helps him sit up as well, before stealing a kiss.

“And my brother?”

“I don’t know. Would you miss him?”

“Very much so.”

“Then he can visit as well,” Nie Huaisang generously allows. “In fact, he can even live with us, but he’ll have to do his share of work. Can he hunt?”

“Wangji is a strict vegetarian.”

“So what? Plenty of people eat meat who can’t hunt. He could hunt and not eat meat. I’ve heard people say he’s amazing with a bow. If he lives with us, he can go hunt for rare furs, that will make us some nice money. I can sell my services as an accountant or something of the sort. And you… well, you can just stay home and write poetry, you’re good at that.”

“A kind way to say I don’t have any useful skill!” the emperor complains, pulling him close for a kiss that’s more laughter than anything else.

For a moment, Nie Huaisang thinks that the kiss will lead to more, but the emperor is too serious and reasonable for that. Instead he gets a soft towel to clean Nie Huaisang’s body until the only traces of their lovemaking are a few red bites. They both have other things to do. The emperor must lead his people, and Nie Huaisang must humiliate himself by sharing more than he’d like about his intimate life with his father's cousin.

As they both get dressed, the emperor chats quietly, trying to figure out when they might be together again. There are some important celebrations coming up, and he needs to hear the grievances of a great number of officials and supplicants because of the trouble caused by the Wens. It probably will be two weeks before he can make time again, if not more.

Two weeks feels like a very long time. Not only will Nie Huaisang miss the emperor, but he’ll have to deal with his cousin’s temper, who is sure to be upset by this long pause in their acquaintance.

“Xichen, I’ve decided what I want,” Nie Huaisang says as he finishes tying his robes. The emperor looks at him with a puzzled air, as if he’s already forgotten what they were talking about. Then, as he remembers, his expression turns hopeful, so much that Nie Huaisang can only smile. “I want to live here, with you. As your concubine, your servant, your whore, I don’t care, I just want…”

He can’t finish, because the emperor crosses the distance between them and kisses him as if his life depends on it.

They do end up making love again after all. The entire time, the emperor swears he’ll take care of Nie Huaisang, that he’ll protect him, that he loves him, that they’ll be happy. Life isn’t that simple, but Nie Huaisang can pretend that it is. It’d be nice to be happy.

In his next letter, Father says that the emperor has written to him about taking Nie Huaisang as his concubine, and sent a contract draft regarding that offer. Father then congratulates Nie Huaisang for tricking the emperor so well, and forcing him to make his support of their family as official as if he’d married one of their daughters. That praise leaves him feeling dirty. The emperor is a good man, who doesn’t have to be tricked into doing what he thinks is right, and Nie Huaisang hates that this is how others see their relationship.

The best thing about going to live in the imperial palace, Nie Huaisang decides, is that Father won’t be able to write such cruel things anymore for fear the emperor might see it.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #concubine au #I think I'm getting to the end of my burst of inspiration for this au #mayyyyyybe another chapter in the coming days? But I can't even promise that #oh well it's been fun while it lasted #I guess painful cramps are good for something: they make me write angsty shit

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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71. you’re famous and you want to hide out in my bookstore which is fine except the stupid paparazzi won’t leave and now there’s a photo of us in the tabloids and they’re printing misinformation and why the fuck won’t you clear this up on your twitter account

Sternclay, NSFW, please!

Here you go! Let's end this round of meet uglies with a bang

The post-holiday slump is always the worst; everyone maxed out their credit cards last month and doesn’t want to buy anything, and the tourists won’t be back until the spring. It’s not that he’s concerned about keeping the lights on; Bookworms is popular and has a prime spot downton. It’s that he’s bored out of his mind.

All his orders for the day are in, everything’s been received and shelved, and he’s running out of things to tidy. If he’s lucky, the clouds that have been threatening a snowstorm since this morning will burst and drive some people to shelter among the stacks.

Dingdong

Thank the lord.

“Welcome to Bookworms, can I help you?”

The man stays by the door, peering through the glass onto the street while pulling off his beanie, “Huh? Oh, uh, nope, just coming in to, uh, get out of the cold.” He turns, and two realizations slap Joseph in the face.

One: this is the hottest man he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Two: He’s seen this man dozens of times, just never in person.

Barclay Cobb is a Food Network darling who got his start on Youtube, sharing recipes from vintage cookbooks he found at garage sales. That’s not why he’s starstruck, but it is probably why the taller man is hiding in the craft books alcove and keeps nervously looking his way.

“I won’t tell anyone you’re here, Mr. Cobb.”

“Phew” the man sighs, unzips his jacket, “thanks man. Thought I’d be bundled up enough that no one would spot me while I was out, but I didn’t get my hat on in time coming out of the Chinese place down the block.”

“I love that spot, they have the best beer-braised duck.”

“Yeah, I always stop by when I’m in town, they’re food is worth getting photographed for.”

It’s odd, everything he’s read suggests chef Cobb is friendly and warm when approached by fans in public.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate that people like my shows but, I, uh, sometimes I just want to eat or walk down the street without someone taking pictures of me.”

“Do you want to head into the back sections? There’s no windows in that half of the store.”

“Sweet, thanks. Uh, would it be cool if I autographed any books of mine you have? I like doing that, means I can send a little business towards smaller stores.”

“Of course. Here, the cookbooks are on this wall.” He slips into his office to grab a sharpie while Barclay pulls a stack of books and sits down on the floor. As the scratching of the pen fills the air, Joseph takes a trip to the paranormal and occult section, coming back with three copies of The Case for Bigfoot.”

“Y’know, not everyone stocks these.” Barclay smiles as he adds the paperbacks to the pile.

“Which is terrible business; you’re just as famous in the cryptozoology community as you are in the foodie one. This is the best book on bigfoot ever written, and I should know; I run a, um, a blog where I review books on paranormal topics.”

“You a true believer?” The cook blows on his signature in the copy of Desserts for All Seasons

“More an optimistic skeptic; your book is perfect because you make your case using actual evidence instead of reporting the same ten, poorly verified stories that everyone includes in their books. And I appreciated that you included recipes from the places you visited; that was a very nice touch.”

“Funny story about that” Barclay freezes as the front door opens. There’s definitely more than one person coming in, and when Joseph pokes his head around the corner he sees fifteen people, all with cameras or phones.

“Shit. You might want to hide in my office for a few minutes.”

By the time the crowd reaches him, Joseph is almost done re-shelving the signed books.

“Good afternoon, let me know if you need help finding anything.”

“Uh, yeah, we do, someone saw Barclay Cobb in your store-”

“Strange, we’ve only had one customer” he winces as someone’s shoulder knocks a hardcover off its display, “I didn’t get a good look at them before they went downstairs.” He tips his head at the staircase to the YA and Graphic Novel sections and is promptly knocked into the shelf as the throng hurries away.

“Come on, I can get you out through the back door” Joseph whispers to the Red Dust on his Soul poster on his office door. Barclay is remarkably quiet for a man his size as they sneak across the floor and let frigid, January air rush into the store.

“Thanks man” Barclay whispers, “I owe you one.” He sets a big hand on Joseph’s shoulder, squeezes it with a wink, then pulls on his hat and disappears into a crowd coming off at the bus stop.

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

Joseph always comes in through the back, flipping on lights as he goes, so the sea of bodies pressed to the front windows like a zombie horde surprises him. He knows Barclay tweeted about the signed copies, but this seems like excessive excitement even for a celebrity chef.

“Morning, Joseph--whoa, what the heck?” Aubrey clocks in without taking her eyes off the crowd, “why is everyone here this early.”

“Fan culture. I think.” The registers finish waking up, “I’ll pay holiday rates if you open that door for me.”

Aubrey gives a thumbs up, unlocks the double doors, and is swallowed up so quickly he worries she might have been trampled until she emerges near the greeting cards. Some people swarm the cookbooks, but an alarming number cluster around the counter, all shouting for his attention.

“How long have you been seeing Chef Cobb?”

“What?, I, I’m not-”

“Does he often visit your store?”

“No! He just came by yesterday!” There’s a horrible clatter of all the books on display near the door taking each other out like dominoes.

“Do you fuck in the backroom all the time?”

“Oh come on” He pushes past the man who asked that, deals with shouting all the way to his office and slams the door. A quick Google search for “Barclay Cobb” brings up a blurry photo of them in the alley, Barclays hand on his shoulder, and multiple headlines speculating on why the reclusive chef and author has chosen a nobody bookstore employee (he’s the owner, damn it) as his lover.

Okay, there’s a logical, easy fix to this.

He opens the door enough to speak, whistles so everyone will be quiet and listen to him, “I’m sorry, there’s been a misunderstanding. Mr. Cobb isn’t in any kind of relationship with me; he just came into the store yesterday for some peace and quiet. So, if you’re looking for information about him, this is not the place for it. If you’re looking for the signed books, the cookbooks are there, and the paranormal section is just around that corner.” He gives his best customer service smile as the paparazzi exchange perplexed glances.

“...Is it true he bought you this store?”

“Wh--no! We rent this space.”

“From him?”

“Arggh!” He closes the door, slumps against it and cards his fingers through his hair. As he contemplates closing for the day, he spots a little, copper card on his desk. It’s Barclay’s, which is what he expected, but when he flips it over there’s a message scribbled in pen.

Main St Hotel, room 503, here until Monday.

He pulls out his phone, tells Aubrey she’s allowed to get the crowd out by any means necessary except for fire, and elbows his way out into the winter air.

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

Barclay almost purrs when he peers through the peephole in the hotel door; Joseph, as his nametag read, is standing on the carpet, looking twice as handsome as he did yesterday. His cheeks are even a little pink, and Barclay has some thoughts on how to make that blush deepen.

“Hey, glad you found-”

Joseph holds up his phone, screen in Barclays face, “please fix this.”

“Oh fuck.” He ushers him in, “I’m so sorry, I thought they’d stopped doing this shit.”

“No, and they’re fucking up my inventory as a result.”

“On it, lemme text my assistant, she’s good at drafting these kind of messages.”

“Thank the lord. Right, thank you for that, I’ll go now.”

“Wait” Barclay reminds his instincts that blocking the door is rude, “do you wanna stay a few minutes? You look kinda stressed.”

“Because my store is being overrun!” Joseph snaps, then takes a deep breath and straightens his sleeves, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t called for, this morning has just been a mess. And it, um, it’s a little bittersweet to have people thinking I could land a hot chef when I can’t get past a first date with most people. Um, sorry. Too much information. That’s a bad habit of mine.”

Barclay tucks his hands into his pants pockets, “About that. Y’know how I left my card?”

Blue eyes blink, then brighten, “I thought that might be the reason but I dismissed it as wishful thinking.”

“Nope. A guy who's hot, nerdy, and competent enough to sneak me away from the paparazzi? Sign me the fuck up.”

“I’m not opposed to a, um, tryst, but I really, really need to get back to the store, I can’t abandon Aubrey to deal with this mess on her own, that’s not fair, and now we’ll have to reorder things too....” He laughs, a tense sound, “good lord, I get a chance to fuck a celebrity crush and I’m turning it down for work.”

“Hey” Barclay sets his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, “it’s okay. You’re not the first guy to be married to his job. But, uh, out of curiosity, you got any vacation days to spare?”

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

“This is all yours?” Joseph takes in the sprawling farm as Barclay unlocks the front door of a charmingly rustic house.

“Yep, all the way to the creek and all the way to the road. Might surprise you, but I like my privacy.”

“I’d never have guessed.” He replies with faux shock.

“Smartass.” Barclay kisses his cheek, holds the door open with his shoulder so Joseph can pull his bags inside. He packed as light and efficiently as he could for two weeks away (he’d initially planned on one until Aubrey and Moira ganged up on him and told him he hadn’t taken a real vacation in years so he was taking one now, damn it) but his suitcase is still heavy as he rolls it to the stairs.

“I got that.” Barclay shoulders his own travel bag and hoists Joseph’s in the other hand, carrying them to the second floor like they’re nothing more than pillows.

The week the chef was in Madison, Joseph went to his hotel almost every night. Fell asleep in his bed more than once, when discussions of fusion cuisine or the Fresno Nightcrawler turned into frantic, heated kisses under the covers. It’s only when the cook drops all luggage into the master bedroom that the truth of why he’s on this trip sets in.

“You really invited me all the way here because you think I’m hot.”

“Yeah but no.” Barclay drapes his arms over his shoulders, lips still a little chilly as he kisses them, “brought you here because you’re smart” another kiss, this one on his jaw, “and funny” another, on his nose, “and you’re the biggest bigfoot fan I know.”

“You wrote a book on it!”

“Point stands. And yeah” he pushes Joseph back so he lands on the bed, crawling atop him as he growls, “I invited you here because you’re so hot I wanna pour sugar on you and see if it melts. Now get your pants off; I’ve been thinking about sucking your dick since we left the city.”

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

“How did the whole bigfoot thing start?” Joseph sips his Irish Coffee as Barclay puts his feet into his lap.

“Guess the same way any famous person ends up with two gigs; I was doing the thing I love, then was dicking around on cryptid hunter forums and found out I was also hella good at researching bigfoot. By the time I got really into it, I had enough cash that I could write my book without worrying about going broke. Helps that I’d handed off The Arch and The Lodge and was just the exec chef on them, since then I could travel if I needed to.”

Joseph nods, moves one hand down to rub Barclays foot; in spite of no longer working the kitchens of his five restaurants or having to test recipes for the books right now, he spent most of today on his feet making elaborate meals for two. Joseph teases him that he’s trying to stuff him to the point he can’t leave. Barclay always chuckles and says he doesn’t know how right he is. The last two days, Joseph then wraps his arms around his boyfriend and tells him he’d stay forever if he could.

He’s never thought of himself as romantic; he’s pragmatic, knows that relationships are things built out of time, trial, and error. But god help him, he’s fallen for Barclay like they’re rom-com leads with only ninety minutes to reach their happy ending.

They’re out near the creek--really more of a small river--the next morning, talking about books and speculating on the existence of life on other planets, when a storm sweeps through the trees. As trunks groan and roots pull loose from the snow, Barclay calls, “we better head back.”

He gives a thumbs up. Then the ice under him cracks.

He doesn’t correct course quickly enough, the rest dropping from under him and dunking him in freezing water. It’s deep, too deep to stand, but he’s a decent swimmer and kicks towards the surface. When the shadow covers the opening with a boom, panic threatens to push the rest of his precious breath away.

The tree that fell across the ice is heavy, and no matter how he pushes it won’t give. He bangs on the ice on either side, trying to get it to crack, but his lungs scream and his limbs alert him that the cold will soon shut them down.

He closes his eyes, trying to think, not ready to give up, not with Barclay so close. There’s a groan of wood and frozen water. His mouth opens without permission, desperate for air, and chokes him on frost instead.

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

“...be dead, please don’t be dead, please please please don’t be fucking dead.”

“Nnff.” That’s not what he meant to say, but it seems to calm the voice above him.

“Thank fuck. I’m so sorry, I got to you as fast as I could, do, do you need anything?” Barclay sounds exhausted.

“Cold.” He mutters.

“I’m trying to warm you up gradually, that’s what the first aid book said but, uh, here.” Warm, fuzzy arms draw him into a hug.

Wait.

The first thing he sees when his eyes flutter open are arms covered in reddish-brown fur. When Barclay rubs their cheeks together, it tickles more than his beard usually does.

“Barclay? What the hell is going on?”

“Uh. So.” He’s rolled with ease to face a creature he’s never seen and eyes that he’d know anywhere, “I’m bigfoot. Or, uh, a bigfoot. Maybe that’s kinda obvious now.”

His brain crackles to life, “What better way to stay undiscovered than get famous by giving people the wrong information about you.”

“Some of it’s true. Just not anything people could use to actually find me.”

“Smart, big guy” Joseph pets his face.

“You’re taking this pretty well.”

“I think my system is too shocked to experience more shock.” He shudders, “relatedly, how’d I get out of the river?”

“I lifted the tree off and pulled you free. Took my disguise off to do that and, uh, the fucking thing fell into the water when I got you. So I’m gonna be stuck like this until a friend of mine can get me a new one.”

“No complaints here. You look incredible.” He runs his hands up and down Barclay’s side and chest, warmth seeping into his fingers as he does, “But I’m a little surprised you were willing to risk someone seeing you or me blabbing to someone and trashing your whole life in the process.”

A low rumble as Barclay kisses his forehead, “It’s worth it. I, this is gonna sound so fucking cheesy, but I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time, and there was no way I was gonna lose you.”

“Oh.” Affection and surprise well up in his throat, pressing down his words so all he can do is nestle closer to the cryptid and let himself be loved.

His mind rebounds quickly from his misadventure. His body would like him to remember it for a while so he doesn’t put it in such jeopardy again any time soon. Instead of helping Barclay with cooking and chores, he lays under the covers while the storm rattles the roof and the cook clangs pots on the lower floor.

Barclay, attentive to a fault, is downright doting now that he’s stuck in bed. He’s never without a hot drink or something to read, and the cryptid is happy to answer the majority of his questions about the finer points of being bigfoot. When it’s bedtime, his boyfriend pulls him atop his massive frame and cuddles him, whispering over and over that he’s glad he’s okay, until they fall asleep.

Today followed much the same pattern, though when dinner time rolls around he gets a fantastic surprise.

“Chocolate fondue?” He peers hopefully at the bed tray in Barclays hands.

“Only the best for you, babe.” The cook sets the burnished wood down on the bedside table, “we lucked out, the berries I bought last week are ripe.”

Joseph reaches for the fork, but Barclay beats him to it.

“You should save your energy. Since you’re, uh, still recovering.”

He shrugs, sets his hands in his lap and opens his mouth for a chocolate dipped raspberry. It doesn’t take long to spy Barclay’s ulterior motive. The cook has a whole wardrobe designed to fit his cryptid form, but it’s having trouble concealing certain things.

“You’re getting off on this.”

“I, uh, I, maybe a little” Barclay blushes under his fur.

Joseph raises an eyebrow, tilts his head at the bulge in Barclay’s pants, “You call that ‘little’?”

A rumbly whine, the fork paused halfway to Joseph’s mouth, “I can’t help it. I’ve got a thing for taking care of partners, especially ones who are all competent and put-together the rest of the time, and you look so good when you eat and, ohfuck.”

Joseph inhales sharply as chocolate hits his exposed upper chest. It’s not hot enough to burn, and he moans as the sensation seeps across his skin. Barclays eyes, wide and ravenous, keep flicking between the splatter and his face.

“Looks like you made a mess, big guy.” Joseph begins undoing the remaining buttons on his pajamas, “you should clean it up.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay lunges, mouth first, lapping and sucking at the marked skin as Joseph laughs. Their shirts hit the floor together as he digs his nails into auburn fur. Barclay grunts at the pressure, sits up with a grin, and drips a line of chocolate down the right side of Joseph’s ribs.

“Oops. Better fix that too.”

“Cleanliness is importantAH, ahhnn.” He squirms a bit as Barclay nuzzles his stomach before dragging his tongue up his skin. There’ve been times he mourned the fact T didn’t make him as hairy as some other guys, but right now he’s grateful for the clear canvas Barclay can mark however he pleases.

“A mess can be more fun.” The cook licks his lips, sucks a hickey above his belly button, “and by the time I’m done with you, babe, won’t be a single part of you that isn’t one.”

“Then get to it.” He shoves his pants down, lets Barclay pull them the rest of the way off and fold them. He lays back, resting his arms behind his head, and moans as the cook drizzles chocolate on each hip. Joseph feels like a gourmet dessert and, from the growls between his thighs, Barclay intends to treat him like one.

His boyfriend is always enthusiastic when sucking him off, but tonight he throws finesse out the window in favor of burying his face at the crease of each thigh in turn, licking his hips clean while clawing at his calves and sides. He lifts his head, wipes his mouth with a satisfied grin that shows the points of his teeth, and dives down again.

Joseph yelps with pleasure, the hint of fangs hitting all his buttons, lighting him up like downtown on a dark night. It’s intense, the scratch of fur on skin just different enough from the usual beard to remind him of who’s down there, and his legs try to kick closed. Barclay growls again, holding them open with ease.

“Not until I’m done with you, babe.”

He surrenders to flood of feelings from both outside and within him, Barclay’s sheer delight at his body rendering all his doubts and worries toothless and small, quieting them until all he can think about is incredible creature holding and all he can say is some variation on-

“Barclay, please, right there, lordalmighty that’s good, that’s so good big guy, please.” He squeezes his eyes shut, craving the impending orgasm more than he has words for. Barclay sucks determinedly and huffs, pleased, as Joseph's thighs tense in his hold and his climax chases away the remnants of yesterday's aches.

As his brain insists that really, body, opening our eyes isn’t that hard, there’s a metallic zip and strong legs bracketing his thighs.

“Here I thought you couldn’t look any better.” He murmurs as Barclay gleefully strokes his cock, “as soon as my brain works again, I’m coming up with so many ways to use that gorgeous thing.”

“Can’t, fuck, can't wait to hear ‘em, but I only got one for tonight; I’m gonna use it to cum alllll over that fucking perfect body, fuck, Joseph, you look so good when you’re ruined, fuck.” An impressive amount of cum spatters up his stomach, chest, and neck as Barclay howlgrowlpurrs and then sets his hands carefully on the bed.

Joseph’s whole body is sticky with chocolate, sweat, and cum, and Barclay definitely has at least two of those things mussed into his fur.

“You’re right, big guy, a mess can be fucking amazing.”

That being said, being sticky gets old quick, and soon they’re in the tub, Joseph whistling as he shampoos Barclay’s chest. The cryptid hasn’t stopped purring, and every time he looks Joseph’s way the sound deepens.

“When are you next in the city?”

The cook yawns, “Was gonna check on how the new chef de cuisine is getting on at Kepler in about two week.”

“Would you like to stay with me? It’s not fancy, but it’s close to the Ismuth, so you can get to Kepler on foot without trouble, and there are fewer crowds there this time of year. I suspect paparazzi are also less likely to track you down at some random house than at a hotel. That might make up for my lack of, um, high class amenities.”

“Good point. But I gotta be honest babe; as long as you’re there, that’s all I need to be happy.”

#sternclay #agent stern/ barclay #meet ugly #taz amnesty #terato #monster boyfriend #trans agent stern

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yunhowhoitiss · 4 years

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k+

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, fantasy au (?), slow burn, angst if you squint, ft co-worker jongho :)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You’re finally starting to make ends meet when you start working at your school’s local café, but the world is so full of surprises.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader panics a bit(?)

𝐚/𝐧: I came up with this at 4am a couple days ago so it’s not my proudest, but I felt bad just letting it sit in my drafts so here you go :) enjoy!

masterlist

The gentle smell of freshly baked pastries, accompanied by the stronger aroma of ground coffee beans, wafted through the comfy café. There was a constant chatter as customers scattered around the joint whilst waiting, disguising the soft hum coming from behind the coffee machine. Your face was out of sight, except your hair peeked out above the espresso machine where you were pouring a latté, entertaining yourself by decorating a small heart in the foam. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your eyes turned to soft crescents when soft wisps of your hair had fallen out of your bun and across the sides of your forehead. The steam floating from the cup caressed your hands as you picked up the mug along with an assortment of macaroons.

“Order for Julie: four macaroons, a chai latté, and an espresso affogato, extra dry!” You announced through the coffee shop, turning a few heads.

You made your way back to the station to continue other orders but stopped as you noticed something missing; you had run out of cinnamon to top off drinks. Your coworker ought to know where another carton would be, so you turned towards the kitchen to find him wrist-deep in bread dough.

“Jongho, where are the extra containers of cinnamon again?”

“Oh, those are in the grey cabinet below the pastry display,” he smiled back, all the while kneading the dough.

Flashing him an ‘ok’ sign, you headed back to the front of the shop. You hadn’t been working at the Crescent Café very long, but you happened to be a pretty fast learner, according to Jongho; you could make latte art before other trainees could even make a latte. Quickly getting back to work, you served a customer until something caught you eye whilst jotting down an order on your notepad; had the writing been on your wrist all day? It must just be something I wrote down earlier, you thought.

As the sun made its way towards the horizon, you returned to the comfort of your small apartment to freshen up, eat dinner, and momentarily forget your academic responsibilities— homework, ugh-- before heading to school again the next day. You entered you apartment with a relived sigh and threw your keys onto a nearby dresser, mumbling "I'm home" to nobody in particular. Too lazy to go to your room, you simply undressed as you walked towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. Note to self: clean that up later.

The moment you stepped into the shower, your shoulders loosened as the hot water washed away your tension. The writing on your wrist caught your eye again. Scrutinizing the messy handwriting, you saw what seemed to be a shopping list.

“Eggs, lucky charms, and aftershave,” you read aloud.

Aftershave? I don’t use that. Could it be… you were lost thought, not noticing the warm steam filling the bathroom. You rubbed at your soapy skin frantically in an attempt to wash off the pen, to no avail. Lately, although rarely, you’d started to notice small bruises or random marks on your skin; you’d never seen writing, though. You briefly wondered if there was possibly another person causing this, but you only saw such things in movies or books... right?

Your heart rate started to pick up, and a heavy sensation built up in your chest. It isn’t possible, it can’t be. The cramped space of your shower started to feel suffocating. Nearly slipping, you jumped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You got dressed in whatever shirt and sweats you found hanging around your bedroom. Was something wrong with you? Am I imagining things? I’m not going crazy, right? Worrisome thoughts flooded your mind as you spiralled deeper into a panic. Calm down. Don’t skip to conclusions. You threw yourself onto the bed. In and out. It’s that simple, you consoled yourself. Slowly but surely, you felt your heart come to a rest.

When you lifted your hand up above your head the writing was still there, unchanged. So you weren’t losing your mind. Could somebody else be the cause of this? Was someone else somehow writing on your skin? No, you felt stupid for even considering the thought; otherworldly things like that only happened in comics or movies. Nevertheless, it was the only possibility that made sense to you in the moment. You let your curiosity get the best of you, and paced towards the living room to grab a pen off the coffee table. On your right hand, you simply wrote "Hi," in hopes of eliciting some sort of response.

The following day proved to be a rather sunny, warm Monday, but you had to spend your time in a closed lecture hall. The cold-toned ceiling lights were much too bright for your liking, and the monotonous professor spouted information maybe only a handful of people were genuinely listening to. That morning, you had woken up to find the list on your wrist gone, leaving only your own message from the night before. You started to think you'd really had a hallucination of some sort.

Half an hour into the lecture, you were already bored out of your mind and absentmindedly sketching intricate doodles on your notebook. I should just give up on biochemistry and become an artist, you mused to yourself. You remained focused on your art, while marks started to take shape on the back of your hand. Your soft eyes widened almost comically at the sight, and you shot a brief look to the people around you to make sure they hadn’t seen anything. Whipping your head back to your hand, you saw that the words stopped writing themselves, leaving a short message saying “Am I going nuts?”

Wondering the same thing yourself, you jotted down a response below it: “I dunno, you tell me,” followed by a cheeky smiley face. If this really was real, you might as well make a good first impression.

Weeks trickled into months as you made short exchanges with your newly discovered friend. Some nights you would write “good night” followed by a drawn heart, earning a sweet “sleep well” in return. You would frequently wake up to thoughtful words written on the palm of your hand, or you'd kindly ask your companion how they were doing when you had a quiet day at work. Even so, all you had learned about this person was their name, age, and that they were a student as well. Yunho was a twenty-one-year-old elementary education major with a minor in physiology-- he also worked as a dance teacher on weekends. You still didn’t know much about each other, so the messages never went further than greetings and simple conversations.

Be that as it may, you liked it like that. Your relationship wasn’t complex; it felt comfortable and pure, and you didn’t want to change it.

Mellow spring afternoons at the café had always been your favourite. The wispy clouds in the sky were painted a buttery yellow by the slowly setting sun, and a steady stream of nearby students stopped by for coffee. Your new friend had sweetly noted "It's golden hour. Made me think of you," on your palm, leaving you in a bubbly mood. You had started your shift by drawing a heart on your wrist, hoping your secret companion would see it.

You worked by the espresso machine as usual, humming to yourself as always. The bell rang, indicating that customers had arrived; it was a group of what seemed to be three guys and a girl.

“We’ll be right with you!” you called. You turned towards the kitchen. “Jongho, can you take their orders?” Silence. “Pretty please? I need to clean up my station.” you persisted.

“Fine, yeah,” you heard your colleague grumble.

As you tidied up behind the machine, you felt as though someone was watching you from the counter. You lifted your head curiously, meeting a pair of inquisitive doe eyes coloured a soft hazelnut brown. The warm eyes instantly turned into friendly half-moons as the boy smiled shyly upon being caught staring. You hurried back to cleaning up your station, hoping to hide the pink tint of your cheeks, but the red shade consuming your ears gave you away.

Jongho handed you the cups for their orders and walked over to the pastry display. You got started on a hot chocolate and three iced americanos, getting back into your “barista brain,” as you liked to call it. After finishing the drinks, you called out "Three iced americanos, a hot chocolate, and two blueberry muffins!”

You turned around to grab straws, and you overheard one of the guys say “I’ll grab ‘em, you guys can stay here.” You made your way back to the counter, looking up only to be met with the boy from earlier. Butterflies littered your stomach, fluttering up into your chest. “Oh, um, here are some straws,” you smiled gingerly.

“Thanks. Could I please get a sleeve as well?” he asked, “For my hot chocolate.”

“Of course!”

As you handed him the cardboard sleeve, his hands caught your eye. Not only were they the most beautiful hands you'd ever laid eyes on, but the boy had a heart drawn on the valley of skin between his left thumb and wrist, exactly where you had drawn one on your own hand just a while earlier. He seemed to recognize the message on your palm as well; a confused expression ghosted over his face. Gathering all your courage, you nodded towards his hand and did your best to form a coherent sentence. “That’s—”

“Your heart,” he interrupted, “Right?”

You giggled softly in response, barely containing your excitement.

“Right,” you smiled down at your feet in an attempt to hide the bashful grin that pulled at your lips. A hand popped up in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. My name’s Yunho-- Oh, but you know that already, don’t you?” Yunho chuckled sheepishly. You looked up and slipped your hand into his, shaking it gently. His hands were warm, fingertips ever so soft.

“Nice to meet you too.”

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venus-laufeyson · 3 years

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I Want (Loki x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I don’t really know if I’m in love with this, but I’ve worked too hard on it to leave it sitting in my drafts! I hope you like it and if you have any suggestions I would love to hear them!

Summary: Y/N and Loki both have feelings for each other. Loki is too scared to get attached, but can’t stay away from you, so you just sleep with each other instead of committing

Warnings: Smut (18+), swearing, fluff

Word Count: 2260

Loki pushes you against the wall, you catch yourself and press your cheek against the cold brick that surrounds your studio apartment. His hands travel from your shoulders down to your hips and pull you closer to him, pressing his erection into your ass. He groans into your ear before his lips attach to your neck, biting and sucking it ferociously

“You’re going to leave a mark!” You gasp, you feel him smirk against your skin

“That’s the point, my pet.” His hand reaches down and grabs your ass with one hand and your throat with the other “Are you scared your friends are going to find out you’re a whore for me?” He growls, sending chills down your spine

“They’re not my friends.” You shake your head and he rips you from the wall, still holding a tight grip on your throat as he pushes you over to the bed, tossing you on it roughly. You land with a yelp and with a wave of his hand you’re both naked. He grabs your thighs and pulls them open, revealing your soaking wet quim.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” He runs one of his fingers between your folds and you gasp, grabbing a hold of the sheets and bucking your hips up, craving more of his touch. “Have you been thinking about me fucking you like the whore you are all day? Pretending to listen to Stark rambling on about teamwork while you were picturing me bending you over a table and taking what’s mine?” He tilts his head, staring into your eyes “Answer me.” He demands and you gulp, nodding quickly

“Yes! I’ve been craving you all day, please, I need you to fuck me!” You beg and buck your hips up again

“Good girl.” He smiles before going down on you, placing his mouth exactly where you wanted it. You throw your head back and grab fistfuls of his hair. His tongue works miracles on your clit as he inserts two fingers inside of you, pumping and curling them in all the right ways. His name came pouring out of your mouth before you could even register your mouth was moving. This, of course only made him more determined to make you cum all over his fingers, his pace picking up. You feel heat building up in your core and you know you won’t last much longer

“Loki…” You breathe out in pure ecstasy “I’m almost…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence. He uses the hand that wasn’t currently pumping inside of you to push your legs open more. You look down at him and make eye contact, which was all you needed for the coil to snap, sending your body to its release. You pull his hair gently as he lets you ride out your first orgasm. He stands up, leaning forward and putting the fingers that just made you cum into your mouth. You suck them dry, staring into his eyes through your lashes,

“You’re such a good pet.” He purrs before grabbing our arm and pulling you off the bed, guiding you over to your desk and bending you over it, pushing your face into the wood. He uses his seidr to tie your hands behind your back. He leans over you so his whole body was flush with yours, his cock pressing into your tailbone “Now, take me good and maybe I’ll let you cum again. Okay?” He whispers into your ear

“Yes, sir.” You choke out before he slaps your ass, causing you to jump and whimper. He kicks your legs farther apart so they are spread wide open. You feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation when he hit your clit. He pushes himself in you, not giving you a chance to adjust to his size. One of his hands grabs your hip tightly as the other one grabs a fistful of your hair. His cock fills and stretches you perfectly, hitting spots you didn’t even know you had. Your eyes flutter closed as moans and profanities come from your mouth

“I love watching you take my cock so well.” He growls, slapping your ass again “You’re taking it so well…” he takes his hand off your hip and wraps his arm around you, his fingers finding your clit. You gasp as he rubs circles into your clit while slamming into you.

“Fuck, Loki!” You cry out, seconds away from orgasm

“Cum for me, Pet.” His thrusts get faster as you reach your second orgasm, your walls tightening around him. He pulls out of you, unties your hands and brings you back to the bed. He sits on the edge and you climb into his lap, straddling him before grabbing his cock and guiding it back inside of you. Even though you’re on top, he never gives you full control. His hands find your hips and he determines the rhythm. Once you have the rhythm he wants he loosens his grip, letting you guide yourself as he looks up at you. You tangle your fingers in his hair while his lips find your jaw, trailing kisses all the way down to your collarbone before he grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together and forcing you to look at him. He crashes his lips to yours, attacking your lips. He bites down on your bottom lip and pulls back slowly before letting it spring back to your teeth. You pull him back to your lips, his tongue enters your mouth without permission, not that he needed it. He knows that you are his to use, when and how he sees fit. “Pet…” He groans into your mouth, signaling that he was close. You nod and pick up your pace, your own orgasm moments away.

“Loki…” You gasp, dropping your head onto his shoulder, unable to hold yourself up any longer. His hands grip your hips tightly, using you to guide you both to a shared orgasm. You tighten around him, crying out his name while he spills his seed into you.

“You did so good, you’re so good.” He praises you quietly as your hips slow to a stop. Neither of you make any attempt to move. Both of you enjoyed the feeling of him inside of you. “I have to go.” He whispers into your ear and you nod slowly, still not moving as your head sits on his shoulder. You were still trying to catch your breath when he picks you up, pulls out of you which earns him a whine from you, before laying you on the bed. With a wave of his hand he cleans you up and dresses you both.

“I wish you would stay.” You whimper, cuddling into your pillow. He sighs and strokes your hair.

“I know, my Pet, but you know I can’t.”

“One night, please.” You grab his arm and try to pull him down into bed. He gives you a firm look and you quickly let go. Loki didn’t want to get attached. He would outlive you by thousands of years, so he usually leaves right after you both finish “I don’t see the harm in one night…”

“If I do it once you’ll be asking me to every night. I can’t.” He stands up off the bed. Tears begin to prick at your eyes, wanting nothing more than for him to climb into bed with you, wrap his arms around you and fall asleep. “I will see you tomorrow.” With that, he was gone. You sigh and wipe your tears, turning over in your bed and after what feels like forever, you drift to sleep.

***

You run into Stark Tower the next morning. You forgot to set your alarm so you woke up late. You push the buttons on the elevator rapidly

“Come on…” You groan under your breath before the doors open. You step into the elevator and after a very long ride, the doors open and you run down to the conference room. You stumble in the door and everyone’s eyes turn to you. You gulp and Tony raises an eyebrow

“You look like shit, rough night?” He asks as you sit in your chair next to Loki. You try not to look at him before nodding to Tony

“Yeah, I’m so sorry! My uh… my sister came over last night. We had a couple drinks and I forgot to set my alarm.” You lie and you notice Loki smirking

“Oh really? That’s so nice, what did you drink?” He asks

“Red wine.”

“What kind?”

“Merlot.”

“Liar.” His eyes trail down to your neck “Your hickeys are showing.” He points to your neck and your face turns bright red, covering your neck with your hand

“Oh! Y/N had someone over last night!” Natasha teases you and you roll your eyes

“No, let me guess, burnt your neck on your curling iron?” Tony points to you and you groan

“You’re such an ass.” You hit Loki’s arm “Can we get back to the meeting now? Some bad guy, stealing…” You look at the man's face on the board, trying to guess “artifacts…?” You knit your eyebrows and smile while everyone laughs. Tony shakes his head

“Close, but you’re actually totally wrong. This is the victim, and our suspect is a woman, who we are suspecting is actually Skrull…” You zone out again and rest your chin on your hand. Your eyes keep flicking from Tony to Loki, who is looking at his hands resting on the table. Your eyes trail down to his hands and your breathing becomes shaky, unable to think of anything over than his hands touching every inch of your skin...

***

Later that night you got home and toss your stuff on the couch before falling onto your bed face first. You hear something move behind you.

“Don’t even fucking think about it.” You mumble into the bed.

“How did you know I was here?” Loki’s voice says from behind you. You sit up and give him a look

“Other than the fact that you’ve been coming to my apartment almost every night for the past two years to fuck me, you aren’t the quietest person.” You stand up off your bed and walk over to your kitchen. “I’m really not in the mood tonight, Loki.”

“Is this about last night?” He sighs, sitting on the barstool

“No, well, yes kind of. This isn’t fair. It was fun at first and it felt good to just fuck. You helped me get over Patrick and I’m really grateful for that, but in doing that I’ve developed feelings for you. I crave more than just sex. I want you to wrap your arms around me and stroke my hair. I want you to kiss my forehead. I want to hold your hand. I want you to come over while the sun is still up. I want to cook with you. I want to lay on the couch with you and play with your hair while we watch a movie. I want to kiss your lips softly and stare into your eyes. I want so much more with you.” Your voice cracks as tears fill your eyes. You try to blink them away but it just causes them to spill onto your cheeks.

“You think I don’t want any of that?” He snaps at you “You think it doesn’t hurt when I have to leave you in bed crying just to go back to my chambers in Stark Tower, where no one wants me? Where everyone just puts up with me for the sake of Thor?” He stands up and walks over to you, towering over you “I want nothing more than to climb into bed with you and run my fingers through your hair until you fall asleep, but you will die. You will grow old and die before I even grow a grey hair. I don’t want the pain of losing you for eternity.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks and you swallow hard

“Wouldn’t the time we do have be perfect though? Wouldn’t it be worth it? I understand where you’re coming from and that’s why I’ve dealt with this for so long, but...isn’t it better to love and have lost, than to never have loved at all?” He rolls his eyes

“You and your Midgardian quotations.” He shakes his head as you reach your hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips. Your lips dance together before he picks you up and sits you on the island. His hand cups your face while the other sits on your thigh. He pulls away after a moment, resting his forehead on yours and looking down into your eyes. Your stomach flips and you bite your bottom lip, refusing to take your eyes from his

“I love you more than there are words to describe how much I love you.” He whispers softly

“I love you too.” Was all your brain could think to say, causing him to chuckle softly. The smile on his face makes your stomach do another flip and you can’t help but smile too, looking down at your hand that was sitting on his chest. He grabs your hair and yanks it back roughly, causing you to gasp and look up at him

“You are still my pet in bed, understood?” He growls at you and you nod vigorously

“I want nothing more.”

#loki #mcu loki #loki smut #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #tom hiddleston #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki marvel

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icharchivist · 3 years

Text

A3 x Sleeping at Last

I have a fondness for the musician Sleeping at Last and i decided to have fun associating at least one of his song per A3 Characters. Under the cut are songs as well as some highlight lyrics to justify my choice. Some of them i feel more strongly than others so anyone with a comment is welcomed as well.

Thus here i go:

& Spotify playlist of all those songs in order if you want to go through it

Mankai Company : North

We will call this place our home, The dirt in which our roots may grow. Though the storms will push and pull, We will call this place our home. We’ll tell our stories on these walls. Every year, measure how tall. And just like a work of art, We’ll tell our stories on these walls. Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind. Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide. Settle our bones like wood over time, over time. Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.

Spring Troupe: From The Ground Up

It took me 27 years to wrap my head around this- To brush the ashes off of everything i love. Where courage was contagious, confidence was key. Right as rain, soft as snow, It grows and grows and grows, Our home sweet home.

We'll try to document this light, With cameras to our eyes, In an effort to remember What being mended feels like.

We're home sweet home.

Sakuya Sakuma : The Projectionist

When I was young I fell in love with story, With the eleventh hour, with the blaze of glory.

When hands are tied and clocks are ticking An audience convinced, we're leaning in, holding our breath again Just when we thought the game was over The music lifts and our dying soldier lives And we breathe a sigh of relief The theater lights dim and all goes quiet. In the darkest of rooms, light shines the brightest.

We’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now. We’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now. But even dust was made to settle And if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different? I guess we give what we’ve been given: A family tree so very good at giving up When we’ve had enough. Though truth is heavier than fiction, Gravity lifts as the projectionist rolls tape. And it makes us brave again

Masumi Usui : Venus

At first I thought you were a constellation. I made a map of your stars, then I had a revelation: You’re as beautiful as endless, You’re the universe I’m helpless in. An astronomer at my best When I throw away the measurements.

I was a billion little pieces 'til you pulled me into focus. Astronomy in reverse, It was me who was discovered.

Tsuzuru Minagi : Page 28

Have you read the script? Could you picture it? ... is it worth the risk?

Here in the second act I'm living in repair. Strange how the heart adapts when its pieces disappear. And there, on page 28, I'm so tired of drying glue, I begin my grand attempt at building something new. Though I tend to write the epiphany more immediately, I guess I'm trusting that there's such a thing as elegance in dissonance. God, I'm skeptical of pulling scenes. Was it something that I said? was it something that I did? Please don't get me wrong - I still need your help As history repeats itself Here in the aftermath, I'm pulling at the seams. Strange how the heart adapts in the absence of routine. And there, on page 29, I find “new” and make it mine. But I can't help casting shadows on all I leave behind. Maybe I could afford to change a bit... Even let go of the reigns? Every torn out page was worth the risk Now that the stakes have been raised. So here in the final draft, I've given all I have. Strange how the heart expands in the absence of a plan. There's nothing left on the page, but I'm okay with that, For I found my resolution Was designed for stronger hands.

or Body

There's magic in our bones, A north star in our soul That remembers our way home. There's magic in our bones. No, I don't have a script for this. But I know the right words exist Somewhere, And I just need more time. I know, I know, I'm asking for the moon, But I must listen to intuition Believe me, I only want what's right.

Itaru Chigasaki : Pluto

I woke up from the same dream: Falling backwards, falling backwards ’Til it turned me inside out. Now I live a waking life Of looking backwards, looking backwards; A model citizen of doubt. Until one day I had enough Of this exercise of trust. I leaned in and let it hurt, And let my body feel the dirt. When I break pattern, I break ground. I rebuild when I break down. I wake up more awake than I’ve ever been before. Still I’m pinned under the weight Of what I believed would keep me safe. So show me where my armor ends, Show me where my skin begins. Like a final puzzle piece It all makes perfect sense to me… The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity. The heaviness that I hold in my heart’s been crushing me.

Or East

I set out to rule the world With only a paper shield and a wooden sword. No mountain dare stand in my way, Even the oceans tremble in my wake. The tide is brave, but always retreats. Even the sand, it cowers under my feet. My kingdom towers above it all, While I sleep safe and sound in my cardboard walls. Now I bear little resemblance to the king I once was. I bear little resemblance to the king I could become. Maybe paper is paper, maybe kids will be kids- Lord, I want to remember how to feel like I did. So I draw my sword with the morning sun, I summon the moon as soon as the day is done. The clouds march on, on my command. Even the rain, it falls according to plan. The trees bow down and give their leaves. I humbly accept their offerings of peace. The years wore on and changed my heart, The leading role for a smaller part.

Citron : Noble Aim

Chances are we are the same, against the odds, against the grain We lean, like gardens toward light but we wait, Like evening for night, Don't we? Chances are we are alike, against what better judgement writes We ache, like children for love For a purpose worthy of such a noble aim as love.

Chances are we bruise the same; a family tree desperate for rain. A thirst only deserts know best. a hurt so at home in our chests. Call it stubbornness or bravery, To let our branches continue to reach, With such a noble aim, With such a noble aim as love. Every broken branch and loosened leaf that we've grown to ignore, Is now a part of something greater than before. Every nest that rests upon our limbs, Seeking shelter from the storms, Is a purpose worth being broken for.

Chances are we are the same, against the odds, against the grain We lean, like gardens toward light, We reach with all of our might For such a noble aim as love

Chikage Utsuki : Neptune

Pitch black, pale blue, It was a stained glass Variation of the truth, And I felt empty handed. You let me set sail with cheap wood. So I patched up every leak that I could, 'Til the blame grew too heavy.

Stitch by stitch I tear apart, If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread I come apart If brokenness is a work of art, Surely this must be my masterpiece

I'm only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks, when I open my mouth I wanna tell you but I don't know how

I'm only honest when it rains An open book, with a torn out page, and my inks run out I want to love you but i don’t know how...

Or South

Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice. Some truths are sharper than knives. Some truths we only see in the corners of our eyes. Some truths we wish we could hide. Some truths can save us, Some take our lives. Some truths are fire and some truths are ice. No matter what category you fit into, Truth’s got its sight set on you. If truth is north, then I am true south. I can’t figure it out- God knows. Always looking up 'Til my eyes give up. That’s how I lost touch of who I am and who I was.

Summer Troupe : Joy

The clumsy start of adolescence, The glue that mends our broken remnants, An overwhelming sense of reverence, It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold. A silver lining spilling over, The rumor of buried treasure, The starting line of an adventure, It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold. It's an afterglow, it's an echo Still ringing out in spite of me. It's the faint outline of the divine In the hiding place of my periphery. So I let go and in this moment, I can breathe. I can breathe. The countless stars we're sleeping under, It's the brightest sparks that we remember. When our eyes are closed, we still see embers, A glimpse of light in a mine of gold. It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold.

Tenma Sumeragi : Three

Maybe I've done enough, and your golden child grew up Maybe this trophy isn't real love, And with or without it I'm good enough Maybe I've done enough, Finally catching up For the first time I see an image of my brokeness Utterly worthy of love

And I finally see myself, Through the eyes of no one else. It's so exhausting on this silver screen Where I play the role of anyone but me. I finally see myself, Unabridged and overwhelmed, A mess of a story I'm ashamed to tell, But I'm slowly learning how to break this spell. And I finally see myself. Now I only want what's real, to let my heart feel what it feels. Gold, silver or bronze hold no value here, Where work and rest are equally revered. I only want what's real, I set aside the highlight reel, And leave my greatest failures on display with an asterisk; Worthy of love anyway.

Yuki Rurikawa : Hope

There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other Like the light of countless stars We are not afraid of the dark 'Cause there is hope in our hearts And every single beat, we feel it To the ends of the earth, our echo carries on We are sacred, we are strong, We are beautiful, we belong Please hear our unheard song There is hope in our voice when we listen to each other Barriers disappeared with every story told We are sacred, we are strong, We are beautiful, we belong Please hear our unheard song There is hope in our eyes, When we truly see each other We raise our flag, lift our voice This is our moment, We are sacred, we are strong This is our moment, We are beautiful, we belong This is our moment, We are worthy, we are true This is our moment, There are no borders from this view Please help us raise our flag There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other

Muku Sakisaka : Daughter

I want to see your happily ever after, That you know in your heart that you matter, That you are royalty. This is your kingdom, This is your crown, This is your story. This is your moment, Don’t look down.

You’re ready. born ready, And all you gotta do is put one foot in front of you. Our ceiling is your floor, And all you gotta do is put one foot in front of you. If only you knew

Misumi Ikaruga : Seven

How nice it'd be if we could try everything? I'm serious, let's make a list and just begin What about danger? So what, what about risk? Let's climb the mountain before we cross that bridge! 'Cause I'm restless, For whatever comes next

How wonderful to see a smile on your face It costs farewell tears for a welcome-home parade A secret handshake between me and my one life: I'll find the silver lining no matter what the price 'Cause I'm hungry, For whatever comes next Let me tell you another secret of the trade- It feels like sinking when I'm standing in one place So I look to the future and I book another flight When everything feels heavy, I've learned to travel light But I want to be here, Truly be here To watch the ones that I love bloom And I want to make room To love them through and through and through And through the slow and barren seasons too

I feel hope deep in my bones... And tomorrow will be beautiful.

Kazunari Miyoshi : Nine

Who am I to say what any of this means? I have been sleepwalking since I was fourteen Now as I write my song, I retrace my steps Honestly, it's easier to let myself forget

Still, I check my vital signs, Choked up, I realize I've been less than half myself for more than half my life

It looks like empathy to understand all sides But I'm just trying to find myself through someone else's eyes So show me what to do to restart this heart of mine How do I forgive myself for losing so much time?

A little at a time I feel more alive I let the scale tip and feel all of it It's uncomfortable but right We were born to try, to see each other through To know and love ourselves and others well Is the most difficult and meaningful work we'll ever do

Kumon Hyodo : Intermission

I'm so tired but I can't sleep. My mind is full but I can't speak. Among the dust of the hard-to-reach, I'm stuck Right here, somewhere between side a and side b. I could call it compromise, or just an intermission. Some kind of consolation prize for the race I never finished. I want to turn these tired gears. I want to feel the follow-through, Some kind of equilibrium... Something to set my watch to.

I'm here, somewhere between victory and a white flag. Caught in this purgatory dream, I'm stuck. But I want to set the record straight, I want to retrace my every step. If I could just rewind all the tapes, Then maybe I'd find my loose thread. Call it a compromise, or just an intermission. Some kind of consolation prize, so close, but never finished. I want to turn these tired gears. I want to feel the follow-through, Some kind of equilibrium... Something to set my watch to.

Pluto works for him too

Autumn Troupe : The Sea of Atlas

We once felt safe, like no cure was needed. Our vocabularies had no room for “defeated,” But we grew up quick and became connoisseurs of it. There's a fine line, a fine line in between Our progress and our instability. We can't help ourselves but hunt for more. A design flaw? or the olive branch that proves the shore- The catalyst we've waited for.

Banri Settsu : One

Hold on for a minute, 'Cause I believe that we can fix this over time That every imperfection is a lie, Or at least an interruption Now hold on, let me finish, No, I'm not saying perfect exists in this life But we'll only know for certain if we try

The list goes on forever of all the ways I could be better in my mind As if I could earn God's favor given time Or at least congratulations Now I have learned my lesson The price of this so-called perfection is everything I spend my whole life searching desperately To find out grace requires nothing of me I... I wanna sing a song worth singing I'll write an anthem worth repeating I... I wanna feel the transformation A melody of reformation I hold it all more loosely, and yet somehow much more dearly 'Cause I spend my whole life searching desperately To find out that grace requires nothing Grace requires nothing of me

Juza Hyodo : Taste

I am alive, I am awake. I am aware of what light tastes like. The curtains drawn, the table's set, I wanna be, I wanna be, at my best.

I'm on my knees and only scratch the surface.

Out of the woods, out of the dark. I’m well aware of the shadows in my heart. I wanna feel, tectonic shifts; I wanna be, I wanna be, astonished. I wanna be astonished. So I propose a toast: To fists unraveling, to glass unshattering. To breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again. We’re swallowing light, we’re swallowing our pride. We’re raising our glass, ’til we’re fixed from the inside. 'Til we're fixed from the inside. We're nothing less than a work in progress. Sacred text on Post-It notes. We only speak of a world in pieces. Let's make a map of what matters most: Where every fracture is a running river. Leading us back to our golden coast.

OR Mercury

No one can unring this bell Unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new God knows, I am dissonance Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune

I know the further I go The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed And somehow I’ve fallen in love With this middle ground at the cost of my soul Yet I know, if I stepped aside Released the controls, you would open my eyes That somehow, all of this mess Is just my attempt to know the worth of my life

Made of precious metals, precious metal inside

Taichi Nanao: Sadness

It feels like falling, It feels like rain, Like losing my balance, Again and again It once was so easy, Breathe in, breathe out But at the foot of this mountain I only see clouds

I feel out of focus, or at least indisposed As this strange weather pattern inside me takes hold Each brave step forward I take three steps behind It's mind over matter, Matter over mind

Slowly, then all at once, A single loose thread And it all comes undone

Where there is light a shadow appears The cause and effect when life interferes The same rule applies to goodness and grief For in our great sorrow We learn what joy means

I don't want to fight, I don't want to fight it But I will learn to fight, I will learn to fight 'Til this pendulum finds equilibrium

Slowly, then all at once, The dark clouds depart And the damage is done, So pardon the dust While this all settles in, With a broken heart Transformation begins

or Bright and Early

The sun comes pouring in. Filling glasses up with diamonds, Stirring where I've been But it's all trigger and effect. Dominoes at their best. In the end I'm told, It taught me everything I know. That the wreckage left behind, will somehow make me grow.

In the end I'm told It taught me everything I know. But when the fire took our home, I lost part of my soul. From the ground up I'll keep building houses into homes. 'cause if trust is ribbon, Then patience ties it in a perfect bow.

Omi Fushimi : Aperture

Happiness is somewhere I have been before- A blurry photograph that I have since ignored. I'll carefully adjust the aperture once more, Until I set the record straight. I'll brush aside the dim, make room for the bright. I'll be an editor, no, a curator of light. I'll let my better angels always set me right, Until I even out the score. Until I even out the score. God, it has been quite a year- I've lived a little bit and I've died a little more. I know that I've asked it before, But please let the scale tip here in my favor. What was once the sweetest melody I've heard Is now a memory reduced to little words. I'll tune the orchestra and play the overture, Until I pinpoint every note. Give me the heart of an archeologist, That I may dig until I prove that I exist. A subterranean cathedral in my midst, Where echos come to rest.

Sakyo Furuichi : Touch

When will I feel this as vivid as it truly is, Fall in love in a single touch, and fall apart when it hurts too much? Can we skip past near-death clichés Where my heart restarts, as my life replays? All I want is to flip a switch Before something breaks that cannot be fixed.

Invisible machinery, These moving parts inside of me Well, they’ve been shutting down for quite some time, Leaving only rust behind. Well I know, I know - the sirens sound Just before the walls come down. Pain is a well-intentioned weatherman Predicting God as best he can, But God I want to feel again, Oh God I want to feel again.

Rain or shine, I don’t feel a thing, just some information upon my skin. I miss the subtle aches when the weather changed, The barometric pressure we always blamed. All I want is to flip a switch Before something breaks that cannot be fixed. Down my arms, a thousand satellites Suddenly discover signs of life.

Azami Izumida : Anger

Like wildfire, it starts in my chest The silence grows louder, ringing out in my head

I feel the Earth shaking under my feet I feel the pressure building until I can't breathe And it takes everything

And it all spills out, reckless but honest words leave my mouth Like kerosene on a flame of doubt, I couldn't make it right

Alarms will sound, but it's too late for holy water now Sooner or later the fire dies down, I'll open up my eyes

And I'll try and find the image of God In mountains made of ash and clouds of smoke It's fight or flight, buried in my mind, It's fight or flight It keeps my mind cold

But I feel it break, With just one misstep down a fire escape And suddenly I'm someone that prays, a last minute man of faith But I'll leave behind miles and miles of jagged lines Upon the surface of the Divine, I wish I could set them straight

Say

they impose the endless fight to always be perfect it seems they have been chosen to be above the rest

but the contradiction stands between these perfect lives and the words that they've misread there was no reading say all the things that you really want to say the truest of forms will show finally you'll find your soul

Bonus: Sakyo & Azami: Uneven Odds

I once knew your father well He fought tears as he spoke of your mother’s health I guess a part of him just couldn’t return Forgiveness is a lesson he cursed you to learn As your guardian I was instructed well To make sense of God’s love in these fires of hell No I don’t expect you to understand Just to live what little life your broken heart can Maybe your light is a seed And the darkness the dirt In spite of the uneven odds Beauty lifts from the earth As the years move on these questions take shape Are you getting stronger or is time shifting weight? No one expects you to understand Just to live what little life your mended heart can You’ll always remember the moment God took her away For the weight of the world was placed on your shoulders that day You’re much too young now so I write these words down, “Darkness exists to make light truly count.”

& Heirloom

You try your hardest to leave the past alone. This crooked posture is all you’ve ever known. It is the consequence of living in between The weight of family and the pull of gravity. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become. Long before you were born there was light Hidden deep in these young, unfamiliar eyes. A million choices, though little on their own, Become the heirloom of the heaviness you’ve known. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become,

You pressed rewind for the thousandth time When the tapes wore through. So you memorized those unscripted lines, Desperate for some kind of clue:

When the scale tipped, when you inherited, A fight that you were born to lose. It’s not your fault, No, it’s not your fault, I put this heavy heart in you.

You remind me of who I could have been, Had I been stronger and braver way back then. A million choices, though little on their own, Became the heirloom of the heaviness we’ve known. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than the wars you’ve won. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become.

Winter Troupe : Homesick

Our resignation only comes on beaten paths When the world was flat we dreamt of its edges If love's elastic, then were we born to test it's reach? Is it buried treasure or just a single puzzle piece? It's poison ivy beneath our brave and trusting feet All revelations come to us in recovery Cry wolf, cry mercy, Cry the name of the one you were raised to believe Cry heart, cry yourself to sleep, Cry a storm of tears if it helps you breathe It helps you, if it helps you breathe

Or Hourglass

We're taking turns at shattering apart. At least we're taking turns. How did we get so good at dismantling these hearts? How did we ever get so good? We dress our best to receive their sympathy. At our worst, we dress our best? “time heals all” According to these greeting cards. Oh how we'd rather time resets. If we could turn the hourglass, we would. If we could move a grain of sand, we would. If we could find our way back, we would.

Tsumugi Tsukioka : Clockwork

There is glass between our touch, phantom limbs of former love... and the truth is that I am so terrified that the callous is deeper than the surface of our skin. and it takes us twice as long, it takes us twice as long to heal. we'll lift up the ground to see the system of roots beneath. gears turn, endlessly, to bring the world back to life like clockwork, when it dies. the cadence of beating hearts, the click of its moving parts grows louder and louder from this restless earth... future gardens wait patiently below and somehow we smell them blossom through the snow.

still unsatisfied, we chase what we're denied. as generations wait, we can't resist the taste of possibility. gears turn, endlessly, to bring us back to life again. like clockwork, we begin.

Tasuku Takato : Porcelain

The door broke when you slammed it shut, and the cracks kept reaching long after you left. through the floorboards, branching towards the hall, like vines that never rest... climbing like fire through the walls. a single spark that claims the whole forest - I know, I know... it's all for the best. but honestly, I would rather be safe from a distance than here... when I fell to my knees to sew the damage shut, I couldn't believe... a bright, staggering light came flooding into me from out of the seams. so I reached deeper in and pulled my whole world wide open, and for each broken mile, a billion miracles happen at once in everything... in everything. but I'm safe from a distance, right here. everything I love was made of porcelain, ready to break. but the bright, staggering light, it anxiously waits inside. like nesting dolls, the secret hides. and like every birth, it was a necessary pain... I know, I know... it's all worth the wait, worth the weight.

or Accidental Lights

On your mark, get set... A million miles past the finish line My heels lift at this imaginary starting line. The trigger slips; My heart was racing well before it's time. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, As the road up ahead disappears. Though it's all been said, and this empty dictionary is all that's left, I'll try to change the world in a single word. My hands are shaking, ready or not. Invisible ink well it's all I've got. So I'll concentrate and pick from these barren trees. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, And every road I discover disappears under my feet - Some call it reckless, some call it breathing. Have i said too much or not enough? Is it overkill or is it giving up, To measure out the distance of an echo's reach? If it's all broken mirrors and a chance roll of the dice, Then I'll risk everything for a glimpse of accidental light. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, And every road I've discovered disappears under my feet - Some call it reckless, I call it breathing.

Hisoka Mikage : Smell

Is this the part when the brain scans show where memories reside? Some ambiguous shape in me suddenly producing light Triggered like a tripwire, every time I breathe it in Isn't it strange that a Lilac tree is what unlocks where I've been? Like a time machine rebuilds the past, our memories return Like remembering the ashes before we burn

It finishes against my will, the light goes out, my heart goes still And just like that, I believe in ghosts

Time and space are at my back, Performing disappearing acts Now I can escape the smell of smoke Research says that the only way to keep memories intact Is to lock 'em away and close the doors to countless years of past I guess that explains why the strangest things can conjure up the past And forgotten time will find its long way back

It doesn't matter, I just know I need more Cause I feel like I've been sleeping through the better part of this Laying dormant through an endless winter that doesn't even exist

It's gravity in an hourglass, responsible for the avalanche And the loudest silence that I've ever heard Memory clear as a bell, A story that I will try to tell Maybe this time without words

Homare Arisugawa : Four

Maybe I'm hiding behind metaphor Maybe my heart needs to break to be sure One day I'll wear it all on my sleeve The insignificant with the sacred unique But I've fallen in love with a ghost I lost my balance when I needed it most And this blurry photograph is proof Of what I'm not sure but it feels like truth I'm stuck swimming in shadows down here It's been forever since I came up for air Flashlight in hand determined to find Authenticity only poetry could even begin to try to describe

What if we already are who we've been dying to become In certain light I can plainly see a reflection of magnificence Hidden in you, Maybe even in me

or Son

Show me Who I am and who I could be Initiate the heart within me 'til it opens properly

Slow down Start again from the beginning I can't keep my head from spinning out of control Is this what being vulnerable feels like? And I will try, try, try to breathe 'til it turns to muscle memory I'm only steady on my knees One day I'll stand on my own two feet And I'll run the risk Of being intimate with brokenness Through this magnifying glass I see a thousand finger prints On the surfaces of who I am

Azuma Yukishiro : Two

Tell me, is something wrong? If something's wrong, you can count on me You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat It's okay if you can't find the words, Let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders

I know exactly how the rule goes Put my mask on first No, I don't want to talk about myself Tell me where it hurts I just want to build you up, build you up 'Til you're good as new And maybe one day, I will get around To fixing myself, too I don't even know where to start Already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow to be loved myself

Or Six

What would it feel like to put this baggage down? If I'm being honest I'm not sure I'd know how I want to take shelter but I'm ready, ready to fight And somewhere in the middle I feel a little paralyzed But maybe I'm stronger than I realize I wanna believe - No, I choose to believe That I was made to become a sanctuary Fear won't go away but I can keep it at bay And these invisible walls just might keep us safe With a vigilant heart, I'll push into the dark And I'll learn to breathe deep and make peace with the stars Is that courage or faith to show up every day? To trust that there will be light, Always waiting behind even the darkest of nights

Guy : Mind

First, the ground rules get established: Memory is historically inaccurate. But repetition, repetition sings 'Til finally the melody is sacred, rooted, unchanged.

It overwhelms the nervous system, This fearful constant state of comparison. In our grey matter, all grey matters. An embarrassment of riches in our heads, We gravitate to black or white instead. We were designed to send mixed signals, One image made up of different pixels All subject to interpretation. 'Til binary systems, binary systems run And the vibrancy of everything becomes zeros and ones.

Patterns form and feel important, It's the first brush stroke of a self-portrait.

#'i'll slap relevent lyrics' *slaps 90% of the lyrics for some*#anyway i am posting it before i'm starting to doubt my picks but yeah #some i feel stronger about than others #aNYWAY #ichatalks about a3 #ichablogging music #a3 #a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!

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