#my notes are truly only for me because it's hard for others to read apparently
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someone told me recently they thought my handwriting looked nice and i was like ....well that's certainly a first
#chatterye#my boss regularly asks me what i've written down because he can't read it#not my fault he makes me write a lot and i get tired/lazy#but i almost laughed at the person who said that because never have i ever#i've got children's chicken scratch#my notes are truly only for me because it's hard for others to read apparently#so i've been told or whatever#also because i shorthand like crazy#i HAVE been practicing my numbers w sharpie (aka i've written the same numbers over and over again because of work)#and so they look very good and legible mostly#but only my numbers LMFAO#the only thing i can say is that my handwriting is consistent like my agar plates have the writing line up bc i space everything the same#at least i have that going for me
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I ENTERED THE VOID STATE
in this post i will explain in depth how i entered the void state and what i manifested. i will be open to questions but if you ask something that i explain in this post i won't answer it just fyi, so even though this will be long, if you are truly curious i encourage you to read the whole thing. i am sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes that might be present.
overall story: i have been trying to enter the void for around 2 months now, and finally entered through a lucid dream. one thing i want to note before i tell my story is that i have been lucid dreaming my whole life (so if you never have, i don't know what good steps are for beginners).
the beginning: my journey started when i inadvertently came across a post about how someone else entered the void state and manifested their dream body and face. i was not into manifesting before, in fact, i actually had a problem with the whole concept of the law of attraction and didn't know there were other types of manifestation and never looked deeply into it. that being said, i have always been an open-minded person and also, a more or less spiritual person. i believe in a lot of "out there" things because a lot of said things have been proven to me (through experiences i find hard to explain so i'm not going to). i'm sharing this to let you know that due how deeply i naturally believe in such things i never really had a problem with my void concept, even though i experienced doubts (so for this area i really can't give much advice).
so after learning about the existence of the void state i searched "void state" on tumblr and skimmed some info here and there on it, what i came across included some basic methods on how to enter the void but i didn't fully understand them yet. that same night i followed a shifting guided meditation but i couldn't really get "into" it, i was a naturally anxious person who found it hard to relax so it just wasn't working, but i did see it through and try my best and i think in the long run it helped me. in the guided meditation i listened to, the person makes you walk through a door to get to your desired reality and even though the meditation didn't work, that imagery worked it's way into my subconscious and i had a lucid dream that night. i did not manifest anything that night but it was on purpose (i think). in my lucid dream i woke up in my bedroom. i looked in the mirror and decided i would change what i saw to a more desired appearance and it worked (i looked exactly like the person i was thinking of), then, i decided (with intention) to open my bedroom door and enter my dream house and it worked. at this point in the dream i thought that entering the void must be super easy since i was already basically close and could have done it there if i wanted to BUT i chose to wake up because i wanted to enter the void when i actually knew for sure what i wanted my manifestations to be. i knew i was going to want a lot if i really thought about it and i also didn't want to actually look like someone else (my whole lucid dream i was more trying to test my imagination and build my confidence). the next day i started making a void state list and writing down everything i genuinely wanted for myself.
experiencing doubts: things started to go wrong after that hahah, after my first beginner's luck(?) experience i was struggling to lucid dream (even though i've always naturally been a lucid dreamer, the times it occurs is still random and i couldn't make them happen) and meditations were only getting me so close. all in all, over the past 2 months i had 5 failed lucid dreams and several close, but failed, meditation attempts. this instilled some doubts in me, especially the lucid dreams, because apparently once you lucid dream it's meant to be quite simple but when i would affirm for the void in my dreams i would just wake up or the dream would continue.
another thing that caused me to doubt the void was questioning some of the stories on here. most of them i initially don't believe anyway because it's known there's many liars in the community and there seems to be a trend of people posting void success stories in an attempt to enter to the void (to act as if it already happened) but they technically haven't in reality yet. that being said, i did have some blogs i mostly trusted and then one day one of the blogs i trusted answered an anonymous ask about a success story and it really looked like they sent it to themselves. the reason i thought this was because the op of the blog spells a commonly used word wrong all the time but it's not a spelling mistake people commonly make (in fact, i know no one who makes this spelling mistake) but then the anon that sent them the success story made the exact same spelling mistake. it made me worry that perhaps there were no true success stories because why was this person who supposedly mastered the void bothering with sending asks to themselves to validate their blog? i mean this was all speculation but it still caused me to think.
that being said again, i still basically believed, i just wavered a little, but i definitely believed enough to keep persisting (because why not?)
the success: finally, after almost 2 months i entered the void through a lucid dream. when i realised i was dreaming i tried to make myself stay super grounded in the dream but i also thought about not taking too long since i didn't want to wake up. i did this because i realised the very first night when i had my lucid dream, i didn't get excited and try immediately, i hung around in my dream for a while and just enjoyed things (as i explained). so i wandered around the dream a bit and just looked at things, touched things, tried to feel the temperature and take note of it and then when i felt calm and not too excited i closed my eyes and affirmed for the void and entered. when i got the void i just said "i have everything on my void list" (a few times to make sure) and then stated i was exiting the void state. the void feels how pretty much everyone describes, you just know it's happening and you are pure consciousness.
what i manifested: my void state list ended up being super long and i manifested a lot of personal things that i won't share, which is what i'm sure would be the same for most people, but i'll include a list of things that others might find interesting or encouraging:
desired appearance (including body, face, height etc)
money (i came up with a plan that of how it would make sense in my country to have acquired it)
got rid of my anxiety disorder (having this was probably the most debilitating part of my life, it's also why i know meditation never truly worked for me since i could never relax and it's crazy to feel not severely stressed constantly for the first time in my life)
got rid of my autoimmune disease and fixed my eyesight (i manifested being healthy overall in general)
feel comfortable instantly, i will no longer get too itchy, feel dirty after a long day, be too hot or too cold etc. (can't really attest to this one yet but i have felt no discomfort)
dream living space and whatever bed i sleep in to always be super comfortable
opinion on the void state: overall the point is that the void state is real and you can get anything you want, getting to the void is also easy but it's just about trying to go for it and not getting discouraged. i don't want to share too much of my opinion on this because i actually find it really toxic. some people will get mad if you say you "entered" or "got to" the void because you technically are always the void, and personally, i don't find these slight changes in language to be important unless you are very sensitive to it. for me, it doesn't matter if i think about the void as something i enter or something i am because i believe it exists and that's all i need to know at the end of the day. if you want to see it as something you are, or a state or anything else, i don't think it matters as long as you believe manifestation is possible, you are the creator of your reality, you get to decide what language or thought process works for you :)
common questions: i'm going to answer some question i feel like i will get if people find this post so i'm just going to answer them here. remember that these answers are just my opinion.
question: how come people don't manifest to end world hunger, for everyone to have money, to become the next "big thing", to be a real life superhero, for everyone to be happy etc. truthfully, i think people do manifest that but i don't think they stay in this reality. a lot of people think that using the void at all means you shift your reality, idk if i believe in that, but i would have to assume the people that use the void to manifest very extreme things ultimately have to shift realities. so this would mean the reason you're not seeing these results is because these people are no longer in this reality. if you pay attention i think you will also notice that most void success stories that seem to come from reliable sources (though this is still all personal judgement) seem to be rather humble, these people just manifest to be the prettier version of themselves, to live in a nice place, to be around good people and other similar things. i think people with mostly humble desires stay in this reality and people with more fantastical desires (to be the most famous person ever, to be a multibillionaire, world peace) go elsewhere.
question: why would someone even have humble desires? i can't speak for every single person but i think it's just the desire to stick to the familiar. we want better lives but also want to feel at "home" still, i wanted to still feel like ME. maybe it seems stupid and selfish but if we really are shifting realities every time then there really is no way to actually solve world hunger anyway, it will always exist in this reality even if you or i personally go to another one. at the end of the day, life isn't fair and i am just grateful to have discovered the void to live happily and am sharing this so you can too.
question: i'm worried about the wrong people finding out about the void state. honestly, me too! but i think this falls in line with my past two answers, if someone terrible happened to stumble upon this post and entered the void, i don't think they'd stay here, they will go to some other reality more likely, so i really don't think we have to worry about someone super evil getting to the void and doing something super heinous or whatever. but honestly i do understand the worry. at first when i discovered the void i thought i wouldn't share my success story once i entered because i wanted to keep the void as quiet as possible. but just remember two things: most people do not know about the void and if they do a lot of them will give up and not persist. second, someone really evil finding it will probably leave this reality (my theory).
question: why do people not show better proof. truthfully, i don't know, for me it's because i really do want to live a private life and a lot of stuff i manifested can't be proven anyway. if i show my bank account, it could be photoshop, if i show my new face it means nothing because i revised to always look this way, i can't prove i no longer have my autoimmune disease and the list goes on. i think people with more dramatic proof also want to maintain their privacy or go to other realities. perhaps there's even been people to show dramatic proof in this reality but they had to revise that they didn't because it was a mistake.
question: do you have any overall tips? just keep persisting. and personally, i think it's okay to try several methods at once. i know some people say if you try several then it "cancels out" like, if you try lucid dreaming and it doesn't work so you meditate it means you don't "believe" lucid dreaming can work for you so then that's why it takes you so long but i think you can just tell yourself "every method works for me so i will just keep persisting". another thing i recommend trying for a few days is setting your alarm to go off at different times so day 1 is 8am, day 2 is 7am, day 3 is 9am and so forth. each day set the intention to wake up BEFORE your alarm goes off, once you successfully start waking up a few minutes before your alarm everyday this is your tangible proof that your intentions are working. this isn't really a method but more so a confidence booster that worked for me to remind myself i'm in control and powerful. if you also try this i think after a few days you will feel more confident intending to lucid dream, for your meditations to work, for subliminals to work (whatever is your personal vibe) and you will get there easier hopefully!
question: did you ever do any official lucid dreaming methods. personally the only way i ever had a lucid dream was by intending before sleeping that i would lucid dream. but methods where you wake up by setting your alarm early and going back to sleep and stuff didn't work for me. i tried but due to my anxiety i would always wake up super alert or even stressed, so i could never relax enough. but they are successful for many people so there is no harm in trying.
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𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)
Sesshoumaru x reader
Read on A03...
Notes: For @lorelune 's Spring fever '2024 a/b/o collab!
Masterlist.../ Next part....
Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.
Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.
NOTE: Rin and Sesshoumaru are so found-family core to me, so I absolutely DO NOT ship SessRin.
Content: Omegaverse, Alpha!Sesshomaru, HumanOmega!Reader, AFAB READER, FEM CODED READER, period mentions, era appropriate misogyny, servant/master dynamics.
Length: 8.9k
Part 1 out of 4
Listen, nine hundred and fifty years before jesus was a child shaking willow leaves out of his tangled curls, the author of the book of solomon wrote: behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.
The inn that Sesshoumaru leads you to is weathered but sturdy, and most importantly, empty.
You’re surprised at the fact that the inn is a honjin, and not a cheap Kichin-yado, like the ones you've seen sparingly in other villages. This is a post town though, so it makes sense.
It is late, but beyond that the night is still, stale. The wind hardly moves, and you know the signs of a desolate town before the wariness in the residents' eyes can tell you. Scared perhaps, and desperate.
The woman who runs the inn is much like it, a bit old, but grounded, and elegant, as she stoops into a low bow and accepts the pouch Sesshoumaru hands with due reverence and trembling hands.
“Four days. Attend to their needs, whatever they may be. Your head depends on it.” You hand Rin to him, and he sets the child down on her feet with care that belies his stern brow. You take his hand next and hop down from A-Un, and he retracts his hand as soon as you are steady on your feet.
“Get inside now. It's late.”
“Yes, My Lord.” You usher Rin in behind the innkeeper, and for just a moment, you turn to look back at your Lord who doesn't follow.
“Will you be joining us?”
His eyes flash like lanterns in the darkness before he turns away. “...Just get settled in.” And he slips into the dark.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
It was hard adjusting.
Leaving the 21st century for 1500’s Japan was enough of a shock, but apparently, demons existed. Yeah. Actual Demons. You’ve tried to adjust and find shelter, and a way back home, with no luck. You've been kicked and chased out of villages as mad or an ill omen (For washing your hands so often???), and you've escaped death and harm so often you swear there is either a deity who favors you, or favors your eternal anxiety over this whole situation.
It was by complete chance that you stumbled upon the Lord, in which you listed your capabilities and usefulness with the frazzled energy of a court jester at threat of beheading, the first demon to not drool and try to devour you on sight.
He cut off your rambling with an odd head tilt and a ‘accompany me then,’ despite the furious squawking from the green imp you've come to know as Jaken. You just grinned, relieved at finally finding yourself secure in this foreign place, and followed along.
You’re fine doing chores, or calling him Lord, in return for protections and shelter. You've learned how to talk in a 'appropriate manner for a woman' as the Lord ordered, but sometimes you push your luck–but you can’t help it! That reckless attitude followed you from your first life to this one, and that silky pale hair was just sooo pretty not to touch, and the barely perceptible shock in his eyes when you call him by his given name, no honorifics, is worth being forced to walk on foot for a few (dozen) miles.
Perhaps he might have thought of killing you, a few times, the sniveling thing that you were, if you hadn't piqued his interest with your charming and witty banter...that he often rewarded by cutting your rations.
He’s gotten more lenient about it now when you ‘slip up’ and you think it's like an exposure therapy sort of thing. Except the exposure part is friendship, which you think he’s never had before. It is something the both of you have to adjust to, him, with your friendship! You, with the fact that you were most likely never going home and that demons exist, and probably, subsequently, Hell. Existential crises for everyone, yay...
Yet, another thing that was hard to adjust to was…your monthlies, Things were thrown out of wack when you landed here; Your circadian cycle, sense of appropriate social interaction, your menstration, etc, so it all took a few odd weeks to come back. Your period, that is you still don't know how to talk to people or wake up early. When that happened, Sesshoumaru had already been eyeing you strangely for days you swear, even if you never really caught him in the act.
It was only when he made himself scarce, did you recall how your friend's dogs could smell your stuffs before you even could, and you promptly wanted to cringe yourself out of existence. He’s an Inuu Youkai. Dog demon.
The blood stuff started, you freaked, and Sesshoumaru promptly disappeared far ahead, leaving you to the sneering and bemoaning of Jaken. You didn't have your preferred toiletries or heating pads or anything! It was never a fun time.
The only thing that hinted to Sesshoumaru’s continued presence was the corpses of demons left in his wake, drawn in by the heavy scent of your blood, the thick trail you had left behind. He started shutting you up in an inn somewhere whenever the time comes along now, even if he’s more often late than not, which was still… oddly considerate? Well, one time you all were too far inland so you had to huddle up in a cave and that was not a good time.
Futon and tatami mats might not be a duvet, comforter and down pillows, but it was much better than a cave.
As you’re thinking, Rin trots into the room, and you brighten, immediately waving her over. Joining the group the girl was a selective mute, speaking a few precious words here and there. Surprisingly, even with Sesshoumaru being the Leader of this group and you being her favorite (obviously), the one she spoke the most often to was Jaken. She trailed and played with him often, even if the imp would call it more tormenting.
Still, the girl has done wonders on brightening this dull little group, and you adore her more than you thought you would.
Rin’s eyes light up with familiarity, and she skips over, plopping in your lap. You let out an exaggerated huff.
“Woah, I think someone had a bit too much to eat at dinner…” She pouts, shakes her head.
“Really? Because it seems like you put on a few pounds already…” She shakes her head harder and kicks her feet, so naturally you reach to tickle her toes. She screeches in laughter as you hold her in place and count off the little stubs.
“This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy got roast beef, This little piggy had none. And this little piggy cried, ‘Wee, wee, wee!’ all the way home!”
“What sort of nursery rhyme is that?” Jaken sneers as he trots inside.
“What kind of stank face is that?” you snap back. Rin gasps against you, trying to get her breath back, and flinches back in laughter as you fake-reach for her feet again.
Tiring her out and settling into bed is easy enough, and you regale Rin with one of the many tales of your world. You tell her about electricity and skyscrapers, blimps and airplanes and lakes within caves, caves with pink salt and love stories and anything that you can recall. Even Jaken doesn't interrupt, content to sit along and listen to your tales.
In no time at all, Rin droops against you, breathing evenly, eyes barely slitted open in that way that all young children fall asleep. Jaken snores in his corner, that creepy two headed staff in his arms, but you’ve all gotten used to that so you ignore him. Slowly, and carefully, you tuck Rin in, and move to blow out the oil lamp.
But Sesshoumaru is already there, staring down at the both of you, and you jump.
“...!!” Putting a fist over your pounding heart, you just manage not to scream, and you frown at the Lord.
“You almost scared me into a heart attack!’ You hiss. You can swear he rolls his eyes– but the motion is too swift.
“Humans and their weak organs.”
“And yet we’ve managed to survive this long, and longer yet.”
“Yes, like crickets. Or roaches.”
“Hey,” you frown. “A roach can survive nuclear fallout. You and I, however, cannot.” He rolls his eyes again, and you definitely catch it, and maybe this time you were meant to.
Rin snores gently, and his eyes are drawn. “These inane stories you tell the child are senseless and impractical.”
“She likes them, they ease her. You know she’s been having nightmares recently–that last batch of demons brought back some…bad memories.” Sesshoumaru had told you how he had come to keep the girl, after he brought her back to life with Tenseiga.
You know you’re not the only one who cares for her. Sometimes, if you’re keen enough, you would look over and catch the Lord looking over the child.
She’s be caught in some silly antic, like trying to braid flowers into A-un’s double mane, or refashion Jaken’s clothes to something more fashionable; And the Lord wouldn't smile or laugh no, the Demon is a practically made of marble, but there would be a fondness in his eyes. Then he'd catch you looking and that stony wall would slide back up.
But that did a lot to humanize him in your eyes (ha). He liked to gift both you and the girl new clothes in bright colors, and on especially good days, he would pretend to be asleep as she braids his hair. Jaken would critique her technique and flower placement, it was very found-family core.
You only caught that once though and you bemoan your loss of modern photography. You would’ve loved to get that on camera.
“The stories help get her mind off of that. And did you say ‘impractical’? I would say they’re inspiring–maybe she’ll reinvent planes and be the next Amelia Earheat, traveling the world.”
He cocks his head down at you. “And what exactly happened with this woman, did she live a fulfilling life?”
“Uh, no…whilst trying to become the first woman to complete a circumnavigational global flight, she and her navigator, Fred Noonan disappeared over the central Pacific Ocean.”
“Hence, why women should stay in the home.”
You scowl. “She didn't fail because she was a woman, she failed because she ran out of fuel for her plane. And if you must be misogynistic, she had a man with her!”
“Who let her take lead. Hence, their death.”
You click your tongue. “The inventions of women have revolutionized the world! Wireless transmission technology, central heating, kevlar fabric, the fire escape, mint ice cream; Women can be just as capable if given room to thrive.”
He waves your words away. ” I suppose then I shouldn't let you out of my sight, lest you recreate your lightning in a bottle again.”
“It's called electricity. I almost got the hang of it.”
“Hence.” He walks the length of the room, opens the sliding door to look outside of it. He stalks back in a moment later.
“There are no other guests in the inn, and I paid the old woman enough to keep it that way. After these four days we leave for the mountains.”
“Mountains…” You sigh, burying your face in the blankets.
“Can't we just fly over with A-un?”
“No. There are demon nests I must quell inside. We pass through.”
“Ugh,” You groan, flipping over. “Why? It's gonna be so hard…You know, this isn't how I imagined my life to go. So much hardship,” you whine. “If I wanted to climb mountains I would have joined a hiking group up Mount Everest or Fuji or Hiroshima or something…”
“How did you expect your life to be?” You stop your pouting, turning over to look at him, and the light from the oil lamp paints him in shades, a chiaroscuro of silver and gold.
“...What do you mean?”
“What did you expect out of life? Do you have dreams? Or did they die out when you came here?”
He waits, and you can't seem to muster up the words under the confusion you're under. Staring at him upside down, you wonder, ‘when did you ever want to know about me?’
He’s the one who breaks eye contact first, a harsh sigh pushing past his teeth. “Never mind.” He reaches inside the lamp and pinches the fire out. The room is enveloped in deepening shadows and cool tones; All moonlight and deep blues, softening into Dawn.
He turns, and his hair swishes, like a curtain of silver. A full moon, gleaming brighter here than the waning one in the lightening sky.
“Go to sleep.”
“...Goodnight, My Lord.”
“To sleep with you.”
_______________
Inu Yokai are more attuned to their senses than most demons.
It is their nature, as dog demons–their senses are what lend them their extra strength in battle, in the company of other demons–and He is a master of them all. He is a pure blooded Daiyōkai, Lord of the Western Lands. It is expected.
He has honed and sharpened and used them like any weapon, and they serve him just fine, as well as any tool or instinct.
He did not expect them to betray him like this.
The scent of your heat is a heavy, disorienting thing–but still weak compared to the true cycle of a female Inu Youkai. But where a female of his kind would enter estrus twice, maybe thrice a year, you enter it every month.
He caught the tell-tale ends of it, the day you stumbled onto his path. Faint and still unripe, rare, and no less precious for it-Omega. You wonder why so many demons chase and clamor after you, and that is why.
He found himself appalled, disgusted. But not surprised. Mortals are weak and slaves to their own biology. Such a rampant cycle must be their evolutionary way of ensuring that their population does not die out. Yet even he has to scoff at the luck you must have had to survive unblemished. A young, unclaimed, unattended Omega, even if they are human? How crass. How delightful. Like impure jade, saturated and cloudy. He keeps you anyway. He wants you anyway.
You fall into slumber easily, but fretfully, and he watches you alternate between a light and deep sleep. It is not pain or discomfort that ails you though, and he tries to tamp down the rumble in his chest at your drawn brow. He wants to soothe it. He wants to slip beside you and savor your heat.
Instead, he settles for brushing your hair back from your face, arranging it in a neat manner so that your neck stays cool, and the child won't step on it in her hurry. You’ll wake up late, more sluggish than the other two, but he’ll excuse you. Rin will rush out first, intent on cooking breakfast, which Jaken would take over, with the innkeeper's aid. You’ll wake up next, blurry eyed and guilty, intent on pulling your weight. He has instructed Jaken to make sure you rest, but recently you’ve cowed the imp into some leniency. He’ll have to check on you.
But he won't be staying in this inn, or around you long if he can help it. The scent of you before was irregular, heady and dark like blood and earth. It's a stroke for his ego (and what does that say about him) that being around an Alpha, a complimentary presentation, has helped you to…stabilize. You must have been surrounded by Betas, to have such a weak scent. But now that it's settled, your scent is something more floral now, mature, warm. ‘Like honeysuckle’, he compares.
Pungent, thick, slow, very particular. It could be mistaken for jasmine, or vanilla, but no, honeysuckle. The scent thickens now, in your estrus, trails behind you in wafts. Further fuelled by the blood residue of your menstruation. You smell like wounded animal. Maddening, enticing, frustrating. Lovely.
Blasted instincts. They demand he steps forth and assuage them, but you are human. However his urges, no matter this damn longing, you will never be on equal stance, despite your presentation. That is reason enough. It should be reason enough.
Humans like to pretend that they are better than animals, or mindless beasts, but your body relays those basic desires pretty clearly.
He wants to taste.
Four days. Four days until the worst of this passes, and he can continue on his journey. Perhaps he should have left you for dead, ages ago. Or killed you himself, to prevent anyone else the right. He wouldn't have to deal with this, and you’d still belong to him.
But he’s not going to kill you now. He’s come too far for that.
He exhales, and slides the door shut seamlessly. It is near dawn, you all arrived rather late, so he will leave you to your slumber. That dizzying scent of yours heckles at his nerves, raises his hackles just the slightest bit–lengthens his teeth and claws, he cannot meditate like this.
He stalks from the inn, irate. There were plenty of low class demons he saw on the way to this backwater village. He needs to shred something apart. He needs to put his claws in something.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The next morning you wake up late, which is surprising, because usually Rin wakes you up by stepping on your hair rushing out. It lies neat around your face, and you’re left to wonder who did it for you, because it certainly wasn't you.
Rubbing the dredges of sleep from your eyes, you still as an image comes to mind; A dream, the glint of something sharp, like a whetted knife, and…something else, a soft rattle in the dark. A weight on top of you? But kinda nice, like a warm, weighted blanket in winter. Hm…White scales. The heck?
“Whatever…? Weird dream…” You would have looked up your zodiac sign for any clues in your era, but there are things to be done. The Lord doesn't shut you in an inn so you can idle about. Maybe you can find some chores to help out with.
You shake your head at the images, and get ready for the day. Jaken and Rin are nowhere to be seen, and your body aches sorely like you did a full cardio workout the night before.
You only just finish getting dressed when there's a knock, and the sliding door opens, revealing the innkeeper kneeling beyond it.
“Forgive me for intruding upon you, honored guest. Breakfast is ready in the common area. Or would you prefer to eat in your room?”
“Uh, no, I‘ll head down, thank you..” You follow her down the empty hallways, until you reach the common room. Rin and Jaken have already set up all the plates; Jaken huffs when he sees you, lifting his sleeve to his nose while Rin just beams. You decide to focus on her, Jaken has always had a sore spot with you.
“Good morning Rin! Did you help set this all up?” She nods, before gesturing wildly with her hands, your eyes flitting to catch it all, the odd few words spilling out. You can understand her easily, by now.
“Oh, and you helped cook too? Well why didn't you call me?! I feel horrible that I just slept in while you were working so hard!”
“It wasn’t hard; You would know if you weren't so incompetent. This is just something any person can do.” Jaken lifts his chin in the air, self vindicated, nose still covered. You are not impressed.
“Thank you for the snark, this early in the morning Jaken. Anything else you would like to add?”
He scoffs. “You should be taking my criticism with due gratitude! I mean, what sort of servant sleeps in and doesn’t even help cook breakfast?”
“I am no servant, I am a companion. And so what? Are you going to take breakfast away as my punishment, Jaken?” You smile and take the bowl of rice Rin hands you, lifting an eyebrow.
“Why, I should!”
“But you won't. Because you know the Lord wouldn't approve.” And with that, he shuts up, the click of his teeth snapping together audible. The innkeeper flinches, and draws back.
And, alright, you were only half bluffing; Sesshoumaru would be upset, but only because Jaken has no right to dole out punishments. That's his job.
You see the owner lady bow and start to head out, but you call to her before she could leave.
“Hey, have you eaten yet? You should sit with us.” She smiles politely, shaking her head, still bowing. She isn't that old actually, now that you look at her. Laugh lines and crow's feet, salt and pepper hair. Fifties, perhaps. Her eyes keep flickering towards Jaken, and she breathes shallowly.
“Esteemed guest, I am honored, but I could not dare to impose.”
“I’m asking you to impose. Don’t worry about Jaken, I can punt him like a football at any given opportunity.”
“No you can’t!” Before Rin can fill it, you take your empty teacup and beam it off his head. It lands with a satisfying crack and the imp falls with a sad cry.
“See? Also, the Lord is the esteemed guest here, not us. And, he’s not here. Please, sit and eat,” you tilt your head, peering just a bit closer at the woman.
“You look tired, actually. Are you alright?” Luckily, it doesn't take much more convincing before she sighs, and slides in the seat next to you, across Rin and Jaken.
“It is fine. There is much to do when you run an inn.”
“But you don't get many customers in this shack of a town, do you?” You glower at Jaken, who flinches back. You turn back to the innkeeper as he mutters something about “hormones and lady cycles’, in which Rin scolds him for you, and introduce yourself.
“And the little girl here is Rin.”
“H-Hello,” Rin stutters the word out, and bows. You watch the innkeeper for any sign of reproach, but she just smiles and bows back.
“I am pleased to be in such fine company. I am Numachi.” She smiles, and easily looks ten years younger.
“‘Numachi?’” Jaken always has to ruin things though.
“Odd choice for a family name.”
Her brow doesn't furrow, but she closes her eyes, inclines her head. “It was my late husband's name.”
“Well it's still–”
“ANYWAYS,” you cut in before he has another chance to be crude, “Not to validate Jaken, but it does seem you don't have many…patrons. So why do you look so tired?” She laugh-sighs, shoulders slumping, and the words spill from her, easily, like she's been waiting for someone to lend an ear.
“It was easier when I had my husband and two sons. But… after my husband passed, they left to travel to a more prosperous town, leaving me here…I run the errands by myself now.” You frown.
“They just left you alone when you needed them most?” She shakes her head. “Oh, no, they wanted to bring me along! But I’m much too attached to this place. It’s where I worked and stayed with my husband, after all. They are not far away anyways, they visit me every few months to check in. In fact, I received a letter at the beginning of this month that they would visit soon!” A smile paints her face, before consideration crawls over it; She lifts her sleeve and moves closer to you.
“Though, it's only after the new moon, and for that, I worry less. This post town used to be very prosperous, with many travelers and smaller inns. You can see the wreckage of them further into the town. But there's a demon, who's been eating all the residents for the past twenty years, under the veil of every new moon, and only then. The victims numbers keep increasing as time goes on, and soon…we will also be gone.”
Your mind quickly flashes to Sesshoumaru; The new moon will be soon, but for the next few nights at least, no one would be eaten, the demon wont get close unless they have a death wish. You think to tell her that but she goes on.
“Now we mostly trade amongst ourselves. It takes such a long time for me to finish all these chores, cleaning the rooms and the bathhouse, checking the hot springs and collecting my small wares to trade, or collecting the things I've traded in advance for.” Numachi-san looks at you, almost conspiratorially, though it's hard on such a soft face as hers.
“I…have traps further upstream the river than anybody goes. It's where you can catch the fattest fish, though I only catch a few every couple of days. It's very far upstream, so that nobody may stumble upon them and steal them, a little aways from the rice paddies Taiga-san owns. Though, I supposed the fish make their own way out of the traps, with how long it takes me to sneak up there.”
You pick at the fish on the table, seasoned with herbs and salt and vinegar, and take a mouthful of rice. Chew, swallow.
“There isn't much I am currently needed for, or need to do. I'd be happy to help with some chores. And please–” you cut her off, “don’t refuse because of hospitality. It would be kinder for the both of us if you received some help, and I find something to keep myself busy with.”
Rin immediately bounces up in her seat, rice grains stuck to her cheeks and waving her hand in the air. You laugh.
“And it seems like you have another eager helper too. Three, with Jaken.”
“I did not–” He withers under the blinding smile you shoot his way.
“So,” you grin back at Numachi-san. Please. what can we do first?”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The empty basket bumps against your hip as you rush into the village. Jaken had kicked up a fuss, had wanted you to stay inside, but Rin had wheezed past him, wiping the floor with a rag, and started chasing his feet. While he was distracted, you memorized the list of things you were supposed to get, and made your escape.
The village really was tiny, even in the midst of such a sunny day. In a time when the village should be bustling, people just kept their eyes forward and went about their business. Oh, there was of course the ladies in their tight knit groups, knitting and gossiping. There was the odd maiden who glanced longingly at some fellow or another, a couple cute village boys, all stereotypical bullshit, yeah yeah, but this town felt…hollow.
Or rather, drained. Like an old, cracked egg.
Numachi-san was right, you saw a few wrecked buildings as you made your way through town, following her instructions. They looked old and fragile, like houses made out of matchsticks. You hurried past these buildings, set on your way.
First, you had to get to the apothecary, for the bundle of herbs she owed the innkeeper, then, to old man Taiga for the rice. But the rice paddies were on the other side of town, where the streams ran from. You could get the rice and check on the traps tomorrow.
Apothecary and cleaning today, rice and fish and cooking tomorrow.
The apothecary was a small, but a long nook of a place, dimly lit and crowded with plants, hanging vines and drying bundles of other things. The woman who ran it was a frail old lady, white haired, who hardly spoke a word of greeting to you before she dropped an assortment of…things into your basket. You checked it over–expensive things. Honey and pears and mushrooms, spices–Parsley, chrysanthemum, kaiware, …some other plants you haven't been in this era long enough to identify.
You were just sorting the basket on your arm when the lady slipped a few extra stuffs into your basket.
“Oh, was that also–”
“Extra.”
“Extra? For wha-”
“You're bleeding aren’t ya.” A woman of few, but blunt words. All knowing and terrifying in that knowledge. You nod.
She inclined her head towards the basket. “Ginger and ginseng to revitalize and heal the body, make it into a tea. You’re gonna need it, with that Lord of yours.”
“...What about him?” She rolled her eyes, a strange dark oak.
“Don’t be dense girl. He shut you in that inn for a reason, right? Take advantage! He doesn’t seem the type to wanna go at it in a cave or some sort. “ And she leans in grinning, sharp and white toothed.
“You gotta watch out though, those types are the ones who pretend to be all dignified, but they’re the ones who go at it like beasts.” And yeah oookay you get what she means.
“Oh, no no no no nooo, we’re not here for that. I’m just a companion! And…my period just ended and I need rest, you know?” But she doesn't buy it.
“So you’re not his wife, or concubine?”
“No.”
She nods. “Not yet then. How ‘bout that little girl, she yours?”
“Rin, the child? No, no, we just took her in.”
“We?" You catch your slip of tongue a moment too late, and flush red. The old lady’s edged eyes seem to stare right through you, sharp and inscrutable, as she grinds and cuts her herbs.
“Having trouble carrying that Lord’s child then, are you? That why you adopted her–”
“Goodness, no! I said it’s not like that! She is just…part of the group.” Even that sounds weak to your ears, and you start to back out of the shop.
“‘A companion’...” She clicks her tongue. “How naive. He’s a high class demon and a man. You’re either a snack or a concubine, and with that sweet young scent and body, you might end up as both. Best take advantage before then."
"What?"
"If you're on or near off your bleeding, you're at your most fertile. If he hasnt already he's gonna try to pop a litter in ya." You make a sound of disgust and she rolls her eyes like a grandmother at an unruly child.
“Listen, I’m a part of this group. He's not that depraved to do that, you dont know what you’re talking about!” You're shocked at the volume of your voice, bouncing off the walls, and the most this lady offers you in a raised bow.
“Ah, I see. You like him but you’re scared–of what? Or is it a pride thing?”
“I don’t-”
“You're naive, but not clueless then. But pride is an easy price to pay for a good life. Make a move if you haven't already. Seems he already cares for ya, if he’s feeding ya and shutting you in an inn for your bleedings.”
“It's a two way street sort of thing. I get rest and he doesn't have to fight all the demons attracted to the blood.”
“Really? Well I bet he gets the days wrong, always shuts you up when the bleedings already ending. Leaves lots of bodies on the way too for ya, huh? It's like when my kitty brings me birds; It's about proving strength and showing he can provide. Demon and a man, remember?”
“You don't know him like I do. You don't know anything.”
“I know most women don't get a choice between comfort or a pleasant partnership; you got the chance for both and you’re not making any moves. If I was young as you I'd kill to take your place. Many women have.”
“So I should, on their behalf? He’s arrogant and aloof and looks down on humans,” you counter. “Why would he want me?”
“He’s sympathetic enough to take in a human woman and child and an imp, so maybe he’s not all that. Maybe you should ask why exactly he shuts you up. Or why you want him in the first place?” She resumes her chopping, the scent wafting up as bitter and sharp as her eyes. She pauses.
“If you live to make a decision, come back here. I got things to help you, whether you want to give him a baby or not.” She doesnt look up as you scoff, or run out the shop. You try to cast her words from your mind.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
It got your mind running though.
“Numachi-san,” The innkeeper elegantly turns her head towards you, prime and ready to serve. It kinda irks you, her effortless grace and subservience but you ignore that.
“Why do you think the Lord dropped us off here?”
“Hm?” She tilts her head. “Honored guest…I wouldn't dare to presume, it is not my place.”
“I'm asking you to presume. I won't hold any offense, so please.” Her eyes slowly slid over to Jaken, who was busy telling Rin off for the mess she was making. Rin just grins him away.
Numachi-san slides over to your side, lifting her sleeve to cover her mouth.
“Well, if I may be audacious…Are you not the Lord’s wife?” You would choke, if the apothecary had not shocked you with this presumption earlier.
She hesitantly went on as you remained silent.
“The Lord has demanded your comfort. You rode in on the back of a mule demon with the child, and you were…bleeding. I saw the spotting. Oh, honored guest, do I go too far?” You shake your head, waving your hand at the crease in her brow.
“No, it's a...reasonable idea to come to. But it is none of that, I assure you.”
“Oh? You are a…servant of the Lord then? How generous he is.” Generous is the last thing you would call him but you can't find the words to correct her.
Curiosity pokes at you. “Numachi-san, sorry if this is too much for you, but what was your husband like? Was he kind to you?”
She bursts into laughter, and the sound of it is so sudden and bitter, your eyes widen. She looks at you with something like pity, like you’re some young thing.
“Kindness is a rare thing in this world, honored guest. That's why we call it graciousness– because it always comes at a price. No, my husband was not kind, but he was gracious.” Her eyes seem so far away, and she sighs in ages past.
“He helped me with the hotsprings and the fish traps upstream. Getting firewood and supplying the inn with whatever we needed, rice, grain, barley, herbs, meat. My sons, when they were young, preferred to help me inside, at least until the younger twin started joining his father outside more often. They both didn't like people that much, busybodies. It was very crowded in those days so I understand.” And her eyes flick to the sides.
“But my husband…I cared for him, and he protected me. I’ve always been a frail thing, so I think he took it as ensuring my safety. I wasn’t madly in love with him as I was in my youth, but we enjoyed each other's company, which is more to be said then most marriages. Even so, after my sons were born…My duty as a mother overrode my duties as a wife. Not that it ever amounted to much, now that they all left me…” Another sigh, just pushing a small sob, her lipid eyes wet.
Wife. You’d never be a wife, in this era at least. Much less a willing mother. The chance of finding a decent partner that won't try and force you into domesticity is low, and lower still with the chances of Seshoumaru ever letting you go.
If you asked him, would he let you go? Maybe as you get older. Maybe if you ever found a way back to your world. But what about Rin? It's not like you could take her with you.
That night, after Rin has fallen asleep after another tale, you go wandering to the end of the hall, where the more opulent rooms lay. It's been unoccupied, but waiting a few minutes in the room yields results; Sesshoumaru appears as if he teleported, face forever calm and blank.
“What are you doing in my room?” The room you haven't been using? You want to snort, but rein that particular response in.
“Forgive me my Lord,” you incline your head. “I just had a bit of an…inquiry I wanted to bring to you.”
“And what ‘inquiry’ do you bring me?”
To your credit, you only hesitate for a second at the infliction in his voice. Almost a challenge, but with none of the wariness to suggest he expects any real threat from you. You press.
“Why do you send us to an inn during my bleedings?”
---------------
It's not a particularly shocking question, but he wonders why you asked it. And why his pulse spiked ever so slightly.
“The blood scent attracts demons.”
“...Forgive me my Lord, but you are strong enough to deal with them; The corpses you leave behind are plain evidence. And I suppose it's more than that…” So you noticed. You bite the nail of your thumb, already red and agitated like it's a habit, which it is. He wants to tell you to stop, you don't need to lose any more blood than you already have.
“It's just…We always stay at an inn towards the end of my period, always. If it's the blood that attracts predators, why not shut me up while I'm bleeding then? I know you…scout farther ahead but I bet you can tell when or before it starts, with your superior senses. We can plan better for this, y’know.”
How nonchalant, so self satisfied you seem with yourself that you meet his eyes head on. But as he stands there, holding your gaze like water in his palm, some shame finally finds you, its red flush crawling over your neck and ears and face.
How lovely. “You don't know, do you?” Your shame, that is.
“Huh?” Even now, honey wafts throughout the room. It's all he can smell–blood residue and earth, honeysuckle and moonlight. He inhales so slowly, so carefully, to not disturb it, lest it spreads throughout the room and stick to everything.
“I don't know…what?” He doesn't answer you. He looks about; certainly one of the better rooms, still paling in comparison for his tastes. The futon has not been brought out, good. He doesn't need any more temptations.
How clueless you are to his yearning, desire let sit to simmer for gods know how long.
Maybe from when you first stumbled onto his path, or how he noticed you never cowered near Jaken nor A-un, or even him; Cautious, but never fearful. Perhaps when your scent mellowed out with the addition of the child, or when you handed her flowers to braid in his hair. He wonders what the both of you would have done, had he dropped the farce of sleep, content to breathe in milk and honey. Would you jump back in shock, the child in your arms, or would you have grinned cheekily, teeth and all?
You're going to be the bane of his existence.
As he gazes about the room, he strides over to you in that way that makes you falter; Too swift and smooth to look like anything more than gliding, the illusion of being too fast to track as he stands before you; He tilts his head at the little squeak that leaves your lips as you stand eye to eye with his shoulder pauldron.
Everything about you screams acquiescence, submission, fertility. Your smell, the extra luster to your hair, the extra plump to your face and hips….
He sighs. He finds himself pressing the flat of his tongue against his fangs, the roof of his mouth, to catch that cloying fragrance. There is a sort of fondness he holds for you that he is not sure is wise, nor gentle; It's a kind of fondness that demands both your tears and your desperation.
“Attend to me.”
------------
“Attend to me.”
You mind blanks, before you spring into action. He walks over to the low table and seats himself, while you try to figure out how to take off his metal shoulder pad..thingy. It's attached by these red ropes, which are attached to that other black metal petal…thingy–wait, you should probably undo that yellow sash first. And that fluffy cape (it's sooo fluffy. But also literally alive? What is it?)
Sesshoumaru doesn't aid nor correct you, he hardly sighs as you fumble about, shutting his eyes as you work. He inhales deeply, once. He must be tired. Maybe that's why he’s entertaining you and not throwing you out the room. There's been a few close calls of that, so you know the warning signs- he emits none of them. He’s calm.
Finally, you get to that cherry blossom patterned Kimono, a crisp white and red pattern. Expensive. Hm. You wonder what his thread count is. Must be high. He lifts a hand as you hesitate for his undershirt; He just loosens the collar (and, skin!), and gestures towards the sake on the table that just suddenly appeared, a single cup to match.
As you pour it, a thought pops into your head.
“You can repair your armor and clothing with demonic energy, yes?” He actually raises an eyebrow, but only by a few millimeters. “Yes. And?”
So you couldn’t just like…Magic it all off?
You only shake your head and pour the alcohol into the flat sakazuki cups. He takes it from you and drains it immediately, and you refill it quickly. He drinks, and you look him over.
Your eyes trail down his form, not for pleasure, (because yeah, he’s beautiful, but he’s so beautiful it’s kinda scary, you know?), your eyes fall to the empty sleeve of his left arm, and you sober.
He had dropped you off in some village one day, where you stood for a few days. Jaken was the one to retrieve you, and you came back to a demon lord with one less arm and a tiny child with matted hair. You did your best, but you were only able to fix one of those.
He catches your gaze before you can tactfully retreat, and his eyes narrow, daring you.
You cringe back. “Okay, okay, no need for the death glare. Just…curious.”
His unspoken question prompts you to answer.
“Just…um…Does it feel any different?” It's stupid even before it leaves your mouth, and you see the growing irritation in the set of his mouth, You set down the sake to wave your hands.
“No, no, I mean…! Like, there's stories, from my era I mean, and other stories from before obviously, but amputees each recall their experience differently. One thing that's common though is this thing called Phantom limb; It's like…they have the feeling of still having their limb, even though it is not there. I was just curious if you had…experienced that…” Your voice trails off, meek.
When you look up, he’s looking at the loose sleeve. His hair covers whatever expression he wore before he turns back to the lowrise table.
“Oftentimes, I could swear my hand would be curled, but when I look it is still gone.” A clawed hand raises itself, and removes the shoulder of his undershirt, revealing the ragged scar marring the milkiest skin you ever saw.
“It aches, and not just the old wound. Phantom limb is accurate. I have to look and remind myself of what I lost.”
You try not to wince. “At least you have your life. I wouldn’t say you lost.” Nobody said anything of what happened to him, how he got so injured. You had to bribe Jaken with some rice cakes to even know it was another inu youkai, or hanyo, as Jaken sneered, so it's kinda scary to think there are demons stronger than the Lord in front of you, whose face and skin is smooth, but his eyes stony, like gilded marble.
“No, I lost that battle.” Sore loser then? You shrug.
“Well, I count it as a victory if I’m still alive at the end of it all.” And your impassive Lord actually snorts, closing his eyes.
“Spoken like a true loser then. Weakling.”
“Yes, and a coward. But alive still.” Silence threatens to fall, so you rush before it.
“Could you, possibly, regrow it?” He is a demon after all…
But his fist unclenches, settles back in his lap. His face is calm again, like a freshwater lake.
“There is something halting that.” And still, Silence falls like a dull knife.
This time, he takes the sake bottle and serves himself, quickly downing the drink and serving himself another. Are…demons impervious to the effects of human alcohol or…?
Maybe he’s just trying to get plastered???
Slowly, an idea forms in your head, so slowly, solidifying like fog. You act on it before you can lose the courage, opening your mouth to recite.
“Countless,
My Lord, are the years
That stretch before you;
In such an illustrious house,
A dewdrop is what I would be”
…People in this era are big on poetry, right? They’re not supposed to look at you like you just spoke in a dead language, right?
“That is Ise no Miyasudokoro. You know of her, in your modern era?” You ignore the snide.
“I was in college, working on getting my Master’s degree. One of my electives was a poetry course.” You shrug. “So yes, I know of her.”
He affords you a look, an actual look; He checks the planes of your face and the depths of your eyes, and you don't know what he's looking at exactly, but he responds,
“The everlasting (moon):
Growing in its midst
Is my home, so
In its light alone
Can I place my trust.”
Oh! You perked up at the mention of a moon, y'know, people here really like using it as a metaphor, another poem ready at your lips;
“As a general rule
I would not praise the moon
For it
Piles upon men
The burden of increasing age.”
“And now Ariwara no Narihira? Was he also part of your curriculum?” You notice it, the regard in his voice, like a drop of paint in a glass of water, settling.
“Anyone interested in literature can't skip over Ariwara. He’s a classic.” Again, bluffing a little; your teacher passed him over very briefly, and you hate leaving any stone unturned, so you did some research on your own. (And thank goodness)
“I know of him and his work, but he is far from my favorite. Do you, perhaps…hold any favor to a poem in particular?”
A nail, long and sharp, trails the flat rim of the sake glass. He seems to be contemplating, before he answers you in that impassive voice of his, even and toneless.
“In the summer mountains
From the treetop heights
Cuckoos’
Calls fill the sky
As does my love.”
Oh wow… “Ki no Turayuki? That's oddly…passionate.”
“Do you think I'm incapable?”
“Of passion?” What a loaded question. “No my Lord just…restrained.”
“I prefer…longanimous.” You laugh at that.
“What adversity do you face to show such restraint then, Lord Sesshoumaru? The world is already at the tips of your fingers.” He doesn't answer, but drinks. The silence that sails in is more weighted than you expected, and you regret your choice of words, already. Maybe he would have spoken of these ordeals. Was it the alcohol, or is the Lord being more…indulgent this night?
You turn your head, and notice the shoji door left ajar. So you stand, and draw it back, letting the night breeze filter throughout the room. It's nice. The perfect temperature, and the moon is just short of a perfect waning crescent. Soon there will be a new moon, and there will be no demons attacking this month. How lucky.
“Poems from the Sengoku era focus mostly on the tanka and renga format. In my era of modern technology, there is access to many forms of poetry, from all over the world. It's hard for me to pick a favorite.”
“Indecisive as always.”
“Oh, is that mirth I hear? I consider myself enamored with the written word. Even if I can only remember bits and pieces, from here and there.”
“Then what can you remember?”
“Bits and pieces,” you repeat, “lines and quotes. And if I must recite them rapid-fire I fear I’ll only prove redundant.”
“I want to hear you, nevertheless.” You have to calm yourself, otherwise you fear your heart will leap out instead of your words if you speak. You wrestle it back down your throat, but there's still a tremor in your voice.
“Bits and pieces, hm?...It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants’, by Vladirmir Nabokov. Nizar Qabbani, ‘Because my love for you reaches higher than words, I've decided to fall silent.’ Venetta Octavia, ‘I say your name and it feels like aching, feels like paradise’. Andrea gibson, ‘come teach me a kinder way to say my own name.’ ‘Will you remember that i existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?’”
“That last one was by Haruki Murakami,” you sigh. “...You can imagine, I got high grades for my poetry elective.” You try to laugh, to make light of this moment, but it feels stilted and awkward.
The cool air stings a little as you breathe, but you hold it in, and exhale. And when you look up, you jolt.
He finishes closing the last bit of distance, looks down at you from his imposing height. How old is he…? His face you wouldn't call youthful, despite its softness. It's those eyes- they’re too pointed.
“Do I displease you, my lord?”
“No, you do not.” A knuckle taps at your head. “But your denseness frustrates me.”
“You mean…?” He rolls his eyes, a soft snarl building in his throat.
“You are not one for subtlety, are you.” His nails, like razors hovering closer. You could shiver, and not from the cold. Not from fear. Even when that strange hesitancy of his melts beneath a scowl, and he reaches forward more assuredly, yes, but rougher too. You speak before he touches you.
“You don’t have to hurt me, y’know.” His eyes streak back to yours, breathless and bright at your own boldness.
“You don't have to hurt me to justify touching me. You can just…”
Slowly, you tip your face into the open plane of his palm, cool, like all the rest of him, you’d imagine. His fingers flex, his hands so large that his nails brush your hairline.
His hand isn’t smooth, it’s rough and calloused and cold, but the coolness feels nice. So you press your face closer and use your hands to hold it there.
You don't expect the sharp exhale, or for when he pulls you closer, and you jolt at the suddenness. A finger strokes at the hairs on the back of your neck and you shiver, again.
“I’m disciplined enough to restrain my desires, not curb them when they are released.” And just as quickly as he pulled you close, he let you go. “Tell me now. I won't have a tearful servant girl in my bed; You must be willing or not at all.” He almost sighs the words, continuous and melodious in that voice.
Is it taking advantage, if you give in? Lust was easy, easier to indulge.
You aren’t going to deny the butterflies you stomp down, in these quiet moments. And these moments aren’t infrequent– whether you continue to talk around a dying fire at a campsite, or taking shelter for a storm within a cave. It was a bit of a girl crush you had on the Lord, and you could give in, very willingly.
But should you? What would the ramifications be…?
“I…” And you pause, because you hear something. You perk up, turning back to the door you came from. You listen, both of you, and then you hear it again–muffled cries. Rin is having another nightmare.
“My Lord, Rin is…” You hesitate to go, the moment clinging to you like a mist, but then you hear your name.
You’re already detangling yourself from his hold and making your way towards the door when you remember yourself, and turn to bow towards your Lord.
“I’m sorry, I have to go make sure Rin is…” He waves you off, turns towards the open window where you can't see his face, see him gather himself.
“Yes. Go. See to her.”
You nod and step back, but a part of you feels off, leaving him like this. What timing.
“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, but I haven't told you my favorite poem yet, my Lord. I hope we can continue this conversation at another time.” You bow, one last time, before you hurry out.
------------
Sesshoumaru sighs, viscous longing in his chest like hunger pains.
How dense are you? Must he lay out each of his desires for you for you to understand? You speak words of affection so easily, that when he does the same they fall upon deaf ears. He is not one to be overt. You are horrible at looking in between the lines, though.
It is wrong to feel this way over a human. Weak things, inherently inferior, yes, but perhaps you are all the more enchanting for it. It would be more unnatural if he were to let you be, to not taste the salt of your skin or the honey that wafts from you. The hint of arousal he caught, when he towered over you. You are an Omega in heat. He is an Alpha. What else is there? You serve him anyways, should you not be rewarded so?
His skin crawls, where it has touched yours.
And still, that honeyscent sticks throughout the room.
A/N: Was the poetry a bit too on the nose? I feel like sesshoumaru isnt the type for grand dispalys of affection or confession, he's way more lowkey lol. But here are the poems I used in order.
Ise/ Ise/ Narihira/ Ki No Tsurayuki/
#my stuff#my writing#writing collab#spring fever#spring fever 2024#inuyasha#sesshoumaru#sesshomaru#lord sesshoumaru#sesshoumaru x reader#reader insert#omegaverse#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o#a/b/o verse#tw: a/b/o#a/b/o au#tw: omegaverse#inuyasha a feudal fairy tale
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Blind Items - Pt 1
Cillian Murphy x Y/N
Authors Note: The POV changes from all knowing to Y/N’s pop because it feels more natural. I know it’s weird, but I hope you can still enjoy this! The prologue for this series can be found as well, and I recommend you read that first! This is in no way the real Cillian Murphy! Totally fictional! All feedback is welcomed! Enjoy!
Blind Items - Prologue
Summary: Y/N is an artist performing at Chritopher Nolan's new movie premier party. There are many famous actors there, Y/N has only one person she wants to meet, Cillian Murphy, the lead actor of the movie.
Word Count: 1641
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Blind Item #1
This A- artist who performed at the exclusive movie premier party could have gone home with anyone, but apparently she chose to take home the much older, leading actor of the new movie.
Allegedly: Y/N, Cillian Murphy
Blind Item #2
This actor of our time was flirting hard with the performer of the night at the Christopher Nolan’s new movie’s exclusive party. But allegedly, he didn’t get to take the artist home though.
Allegedly: Timothee Chalamet, Y/N
Blind Item #3
This actress who’d been seen in many A list films lately was very upset since the guy who she had been allegedly been hooking up with, was flirting hard core with another woman right in front of her.
Allegedly: Florence Pugh, Timothee Chalamet, Y/N
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I found myself from the smoking area of the venue. The LA night’s weather was just perfect. I had finished the first gin and tonic a while ago and was now drinking the next one that Timothee Chalamet had brought me. I guess he had overheard my first order and knew what to get me.
“I can’t believe we’ve never met before!” Said Timothee while taking a drag from his cigarette that he had borrowed from you. “We have so many mutual friends, it’s unbelievable” he went on. It was true me and Timothee were around the same age and we did hang out somewhat in the same circles, especially when in New York, but we had never met each other. “I know, it’s weird!” I said. “So when’s the next time you’re gonna be in New York?” He asked looking hopeful. “I actually don’t know, I’m gonna be here in LA for a bit now, and then I’m heading back to London” I said feeling a bit sorry because he clearly wanted to spend time with me. “Ohh, well when ever you’re in town, give me a call, will you?” Timothee said with a wink. “Let me give you my number” he said. I liked that he was so upfront and clearly flirting with me full on. I handed him my phone and he put his number in. He called himself so that he would have my number as well.
To be honest I wasn’t sure if I was interested in Timothee. I mean he is gorgeous and one of my favourite actors, but in all honesty, there was someone else even more interesting at this party…
Timothee was coming on to men it was clear. He kept touching my arm, saying flirty things. It didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, not at all. The opposite, it made me feel good, flattered and a bit hot to be honest. We were still in the smoking area talking when I felt eyes on me. I looked over Timothee’s shoulder and I saw Cillian looking right at me. Florence Pugh had joined me and Timothee and they were having a conversation about something I had lost interest in. My mind was somewhere else now. Cillian was standing there smoking a cigarette with some of his fellow actors.
I walked over to him. “I didn’t know you smoked in real life!” I say knowing he had smoked in multiple of his roles. “Only when I’ve had a few” he said with a wink. My cheeks went red immediately. He turned towards me, away from his friends. “How are you?” He asked, simply. “I’m good, how are you?” I said, not really knowing what else to say. I honestly didn’t know if he was truly interested in how I was, or if it was just for small talk. “Very good, now that I found you again” Flirting, he was flirting with me. “Well if you knew me, you would’ve known that I spend most parties in the smoking area” I said while lighting up a cigarette. “Well tell me more Y/N, I want to know you” he said. “What do you wanna know?” I said with a twinkle in my eye, feeling a bit more courageous myself. “Well, I told you why I smoke, why do you smoke?” He asked pointing his cigarette at mine. “I swear it’s my only bad habit” I confessed throwing my hands up in defence playfully. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that” he said and I could feel him eyeing me up and down.
We finished our cigarettes and Cillian asked me to join him at his table inside. Everyone else was either smoking, at the bar or dancing, no one was at the table but us. We talked like what felt like only a minute but it must’ve been more like an hour. It was very flirtatious, from both sides. He kept touching my leg and I enjoyed it. The conversation went from his recent roles and work to my latest album and everything in between.
“I hear you live in London?” He asked me, even though it was more like a statement. “Yes I do, where did you hear that from?” I asked him curiously. “I might’ve asked around about you” he admitted looking at his shoes, seemingly a bit embarrassed. “Oh I see, I’m sorry I didn’t catch the memo on that we were supposed to ask around about each other” I said now touching his leg lightly in return. “That’s okay, I can tell you everything you need to know, personally” he said with a grin. “I’d like that” I admitted.
I excused my self to go to the bathroom, but it was really to go and find my manager who was my closest friend at the party. I found her chatting with Christopher Nolan out of all people. “Do you have a minute?” I asked her pulling her away from her conversation. “Yeah, what’s up? Where have you been?” I told her about my conversations with Timothee and what was happening with Cillian. “Oh my God! That’s amazing” she said excitedly. “So what’s the problem?” She asked clearly seeing from my face that there was something wrong. “You know, I’ve had a low key crush on Cillian for a while, and in all honestly one of the reasons I wanted to do this show was so that I could finally meet him. But, the last time I heard he was married, and I DO NOT wanna get involved with a married man, I will not be the other woman, or just someone he hooks up at a party!” I said almost stumping my foot. I knew this crowd of people. It was so easy to be some A list actor’s one night stand while they were away from their family. And that was definitely not what I was looking for.
“I’m not saying I have to be his girlfriend, but I will not be just someone’s night stand” I continued, more assuring myself than my manager. Before she could answer Christopher joined the conversation. “You know Y/N, Cillian has been asking around about you after you were introduced” he said. “He seems to have a bit of a crush on you” he continued. I felt like Chris was Cillian’s wingman. “Oh, does he…” I said looking at my manager for some support. I tried to signal her to ask the right questions from Chris. “So… what’s his situation then? Is he involved at the moment?” My manager asked Chris. She was now playing my wingman. “Not that I know of, him and his wife got separated a couple of years ago and I believe they just filed for divorce a few months ago, but they haven’t been together in two years” That was all the information that I needed, and I really wanted to go and find Cillian again and continue our conversation but Chris kept talking and it would’ve been rude to leave now. “Of course he has had some brief relationships since then, but nothing too serious… but, I can tell you he’s really into you” Chris continued. “How do you know that?” I asked “Well first of all, he wanted to know everything about you after meeting you, he’s a great guy, you could do a lot worse” Chris said with a smile.
I went back inside to find Cillian, but he was nowhere to be found. I decided to have a cigarette and headed over to the smoking area again. There were far less people there now, I checked the time and it was already 11 pm, I guess people started to head home or to the after party. Timothee came up to me again and we started talking about the after party. He invited me to go with him, but before I could answer I felt someone slightly pull my arm. I turned around and it was Cillian. I excused myself from Timothee and started walking with him to where there were no people around.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked and I was a bit shocked to be honest. I didn’t expect for him to be so frank, but it felt good. “Are you going to the after party?” I asked thinking he was now inviting me to go with him. “To be honest, I’m kind of done with parties for tonight, but if you want to I’d be more than happy to accompany you” he admitted looking a bit tired. “I agree with you on that one, I’m kinda done with parties too” I said. “But I would love to continue this night with you, if you want to ?” He said taking my hand into his. “I’d like that” I said blushing a bit again.
We walked hand in hand outside where the cars were waiting. “You mentioned you’ve never seen Goodfellas” he said remembering our earlier conversation about movies. “That’s right, do you know a place that shows it at this hours?” I asked doubtingly. “I know one, my hotel room” he said. I felt a bit torn. How do I make sure that I am not just a one night stand for this man? “Your hotel room?” I repeated. “Yeah, there’s also 24/7 room service and a great view over LA, and most importantly, there will be someone who wants to get to know you.” He said quietly, so that people around us waiting for their cars couldn’t hear us. I was sold. He wanted to get to know me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this strong of a connection to a person after only knowing them for a couple of hours. Despite of the signals he was giving me, I still doubted if he felt the same.
#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian x fem!reader#cillianmurphy#cillian murphy x y/n
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as a starting history major i wanna ask how do you read/evaluate academic history papers/books? i'm trying to avoid just blindly agreeing with whatever the author is writing because it seems correct. how can you tell what is good scholarship and what is more shaky?
This is a great question for you as a freshman history major to ask (many of my toiling colleagues and I can attest that we wish more of you would!) and shows that you're already taking initiative and investment in your studies and want to be the best prepared you can. So truly -- thank you! Us on the faculty/staff/administrative end of academia can feel as if we are pouring into an empty bucket at times, and it's always gratifying to hear otherwise. We really appreciate it.
As a college freshman and/or underclassman (or so I'm assuming) your first job is learning how to collect basic information from the things you read, collate and cite them accurately, and make them converse intelligently with each other in an entry-level piece of academic writing (such as an essay responding to an assigned prompt). So before you have to worry about understanding complex nuance and granular-level fact-checking, the first step is just getting comfortable with academic forms, styles, and conventions. There's an occasional anti-intellectual strand of thinking that pops up on Tumblr, basically insisting that everyone everywhere should be able to understand everything in fifth-grade words and if not then it's Elitist Gatekeeping, but this is a symptom of TikTok brainrot where people's brains have been literally rewired to only process spoon-fed chunks of incredibly simplistic (and uh, often wrong) information, and literally can't parse anything longer, even if it's written in accessible language. Yes, many academics are not necessarily great writers, but you also have to let go of the mindset that you can speed-read once and understand everything. You will need to slow down, take your time, and make a note of concepts that are confusing or that you want to double-check, words you need to look up, and things that make you say "hmm I should look into that more," whether because you're interested or they seem questionable. I always read academic texts or papers (I prefer hard copy, because I am Fucking Old) with a pen in hand, because if I don't, I often feel like I didn't read it at all.
Basically, this is an interactive process between you and the text, and requires you to develop a different kind of reading mentality than just buzzing through a novel or fanfic for pleasure. You have to expect that it will take time and that if you regularly skive off the readings, you won't be prepared for class, your professors will be annoyed, and you won't be able to write good essays, because you haven't engaged with the material. In your case, it sounds like that will be less of a problem, because you are eager to know how to do it right, but I can tell you from my experience that nothing frustrates us more than students who just won't do the reading (and you know, use ChatGPT to write their essays) because then what are you even DOING here? What do you want to get out of this? Why are you wasting your precious tuition money like this? Yes, you probably have to fill a requirement, but STILL. It's disrespectful to your teacher, who has invested a lot of effort in being here to help you with this and doesn't want you to just quit because it looks hard, and your peers, and to you. So anyway, /Captain Holt voice/ apparently that's a trigger for me. Basically, if you learn nothing else from this ask: please do the reading. Even if it's only to admit you need more help or want to talk about this concept in class or otherwise take advantage of all the structures that are in fact there to help you understand it! Thankee.
Likewise, because you're an underclassman, you have an advantage in that your teacher will select the class readings for you ahead of time. That means you will be receiving things that a professional has already checked, decided are useful and trustworthy, and you don't have to do independent research and vetting yourself (that will come if you decide for some godforsaken reason to pursue graduate and/or doctoral study). So you don't need to spend tons of extra time and effort deciding if the sources given to you in class are reliable on a basic and functional level; your professor has already done the work for you to make sure that they are. Your job is now to read those sources, keep a record of what they say (hence the aforementioned pen or other way to make quick notes) and figure out how to put them together in an essay. For example, if Author A cites Factor A as, say, the main cause of the fall of the Western Roman Empire, and Author B insists that Factor B was in fact more critical, what is your best approach to reconciling that information? You would search in the rest of those texts to see what else they say in support of their position, and you would probably end up with a qualified statement to the effect of, "While Author A argues A, Author B thinks B, representing the lack of consensus and the difficulty in attributing one single cause to an event as complicated as the fall of Rome." (And then because you're smart, you would go on to mention Byzantium and the Eastern Roman Empire and show that you are aware of the further context.) All of which is true! Historians do that all the time! You don't need to select THE RIGHT ANSWER and vigorously discredit all other theories, ever, and we tend to look suspiciously on people who do (cough cough Philippa Langley).
In other words, we are certainly not expecting you as a freshman, and even as a more advanced student, to be able to pick out ONE ANSWER from the material. We just want to see evidence that you have in fact read it, are able to evaluate and place theories side by side and possibly make a judgment as to which one you find more compelling, and also to properly cite where you got that information. We've seen a lot recently about plagiarism and that being the pretext on which Harvard president Claudine Gay was forced to resign (which is a whole other can of worms, but never mind). A lot of professors think that saying "Don't Do Plagiarism" is enough, but then don't explain what it is and the different forms it can take. It's not just a matter of copying verbatim chunks of someone else's work (or you know, ALL OF IT, like certain recently discredited YouTube scumbags) and acting like it's your own. If you are relying substantially on someone else's work, whether in their wording, arguments, conclusions, structure, or anything else, even if you've changed some of the words (yep, still plagiarism!), that needs to be cited appropriately according to the relevant style guide. Direct quotes from anyone need to go in quotation marks or indented blocks and have the author cited immediately afterward. History usually uses Chicago, MLA, or MHRA, and you can find cheat sheets for how to do that online. It's a pretty simple and straightforward style, and your professor will be extra impressed.
If you're expected to do an independent project or a senior research thesis, as some undergraduate history students do, then it will come when you have already had three years of experience in reading, evaluating, and writing historical scholarship, you will probably have a faculty member assigned to you for one-on-one mentoring and personalized feedback sessions, and they will be able to provide suggestions and support for useful sources. So even then, you still don't have to do it entirely on your own. They'll probably also be MORE than happy to debate with you which ones are good and which ones are suspect, because it's all a part of developing your ability to flex that muscle for yourself. (And as noted, faculty members Will Have Strong Opinions.) That likewise doesn't mean you just have to copy whatever they say (at least if you have a good teacher who wants you to think for yourself and not just be a mini-clone of their pet theories), but it means that by the time you reach that stage, you will have been prepared enough to feel confident in taking more steps on your own. I think not enough people realize that studying history (or anything, really) isn't just throwing you out there and being like "tough luck sucker, do it all yourself."
That's why academia is so collaborative, why plenty of historians with doctorates and tenure will still have to say "I don't know, let me get back to you" when someone asks them a question at a conference, and you don't have to fear that if you don't have The One Right Answer, you will be immediately exposed as a fraud and thrown out. History as a discipline is also moving away from the 19th-century German approach that attempted to systematize it as a singular social science with One Right Answer, and to focus more on multiple perspectives and incomplete answers. That's why the goal is not necessarily to know everything (which alas, is impossible), but to make better sense of what we can know and search for ways in which the existing record is flawed and needs to be revised, expanded, or reworked with new perspectives (which have existed all this time, but haven't been privileged by the white male western academy for the obvious reasons). And that work is fun and important! I don't want you to be scared of getting to that point, because someone will be there to support you the whole way and by the time you do, it will make sense to you in a way it probably doesn't right now, just because it's a new skill and like any new skill, it takes a long time to learn and to be able to apply confidently, consistently, and at a high level. And plenty of us who do it as a career still often have to say "I don't know, let me ask Dr. So-and-so who specializes in this," so yeah. It's a process of becoming comfortable with both learning how to answer what we can, and to ask others for help with that, and it never really ends. Which is the fun part. There's so much more to do.
Good luck!
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Love Galore
pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f!reader x bokuto koutsro
chapter summary: an introspective view of the story's events from the beginning — through the eyes of Akaashi Keiji
wc: 19.2k+ [jfc i really am so sorry]
a/n: thank you to those that have stuck by me and this story, despite my hiatus. i truly appreciate every single person that's ever read a single word of LG, or left lovely messages/comments, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. i worked on this chapter, little by little every day, and i promise i never stopped thinking about you guys. i kept thinking it was done, but apparently i had a lot to say haha. this still isn't the end, but please enjoy the chapter, i've worked really hard on it and i hope you like it :) your love and support mean the world to me, xoxo
Masterlist
chapter 14 ✧ souffle pancakes
Akaashi doesn’t say much, but he sees it all.
It was a habit that he’s had for as long as he could remember, practically born with. Practically second nature, it seems, for him to keep a keen and sharp eye on his surroundings, making mental notes until it’s all piled up and cluttered into his brain. He’s been called many things in his short life. Observant. Perspective. Attentive. Psychic. Genius. Creepy.
Akaashi prefers to just be called Keiji.
Most of the time, he thinks it’s a blessing.
When he was younger, he’d impress all the old ladies in his neighborhood with his mindless comments.
Have you lost weight?
That’s a new jacket isn’t it, oba-san?
Oh, that must be a different perfume you’re wearing today.
Comments that sounded adorable coming from a child, when all the others in his age range could barely notice if they were even wearing matching shoes.
Sometimes, he’s thankful. It was what got him so far in the sport he loved, after all. His ability to see things others usually just brush to the side — how an opponent grits his teeth and flexes his jaw right before he jumps up for the spike, or the directions their eyes tend to flicker to right before they pass the ball. How the twitch of their lip meant anger and annoyance, or the restless running around the court showing impatience.
Akaashi sees it all – each bit of information sorted into the compartments in his mind, saving it for when he needs to make his move. This wasn’t something inherent – it was a skill he only learned with time, through trials and errors until his mind became a well-oiled machine. Eventually, it’d become difficult for anyone to escape the sharpness of Akaashi’s eyes, and it’s a skill he’s always used to his own benefit.
If that player’s angry, it will be easy to bait him. If he’s impatient, then it’s just a matter of time before he makes a mistake. And Akaashi will be right there waiting.
It was easily applicable outside of the court as well.
In the hallways of school, he’d learned to ignore the giggles and whispers in his wake. Making friends was simple, almost effortless. An off-handed comment about someone’s new haircut, bringing his classmates snacks and drinks as if he had just accidentally bought too much at the convenience store – not a single person thinking twice at the fact that he’d miraculously gotten all their favorites.
Akaashi was the guy that would notice if you were wearing different nail polish, or if the charms on your backpack were different, would note if you’ve started a new sport or were talking about that new drama just a little bit more often – and he’d say a something that could be compliment, with only a few words at best, but it was enough for you to note that he was paying attention.
In his second year of junior high, he’d even become quite the hot topic among the girls in his class, because somehow he could always tell who had a crush on who. They’d flock around his desk like vultures, picking at whatever bits and scraps they could get from his carcass until he had no choice but to throw them a bone.
If you get this bread for Yagi-kun, he’ll really like it.
Arakawa-san told me he likes girls with short hair.
Toku-san studies in the library on Wednesdays, you should bring him a drink.
The boys would try to act like they’re not interested in the commotion that always seemed to surround Akaashi. Gossip? That’s for the girls – not something for boys to partake in. But it was only a matter of time before they’d come running to Akaashi for a “psychic reading”, never wanting to admit that all they really wanted was a bit of guidance.
They’d come running back to him, tittering and snickering whenever his advice would work. Suddenly, he was seen as a genius, a guru – as much as any preteen boy could actually be.
It was easy, really – a person’s body language can often tell you much more than words could ever manage to say, and Akaashi had always been an avid reader. He’d try to tell them as much, try to teach his friends what to look for and where, but alas the ability had still been dubbed a ‘gift’.
But sometimes, it can be a curse.
For a long while, there were only two kinds of people in Akaashi’s life: those that wanted to use him for his talents, and those that seemed to resent him for it.
It was actually comical how fast it is for some to turn their backs. Flipping around on him like a switch, taking all the brightness with them and leaving Akaashi alone in the dark.
He had learned – the hard way – that most people actually quite hated the notion of being perceived. It strikes them with a sense of anxiety that was unfamiliar – not exactly fear, but something akin to uneasiness. The constant feeling of eyes on your back was enough to drive anyone crazy, even more so when you’re meant to be somewhere safe.
It’s not as if Akaashi was doing it on purpose. Sometimes, he wasn’t even aware he was doing anything at all. He wasn’t watching anyone specifically, but was it his fault if certain things caught his attention? Was it wrong for him to be observant of his surroundings? His classmates were part of his environment, it was only natural for them to be part of his observations as well. It was nothing personal, it was just a habit.
It was difficult to explain as such when a boy from his class called him a stalker for knowing he was in the soccer club, because how else could Akaashi have known? He hardly knew Akaashi. Even though Akaashi pointed out the grass stains on his socks and the pair of cleats peeking out of his bag, the boy still threatened Akaashi to stay far away.
It was even harder for him to calm the angry girl from two classes over – the one that happened to always eat at the lunch table next to his in the cafeteria. He froze when she stormed up to him, tossing a baby blue hair clip on his table. Steam was billowing out from her eyes, saying she’d only ever spoken a grand total of six words to him, so how the hell does he know her favorite color? Never mind the fact that her earrings, her phone case, her jacket, her thermos, and her bento are all that same color. It was an educated guess, one that was clearly correct if her angry reaction was enough to go by.
It was frustrating, honestly. Did she even know how pathetic his own classmate looked, sniffing around Akaashi and asking how he should approach the cute girl from class 2-C? Was it really wrong for Akaashi to suggest getting her a hair clip in the same color? What difference did it make whether he figured out random stuff about her or not?
But the scowl she threw in his direction had almost successfully masked the panic that swept through her eyes. But Akaashi had seen it.
She was afraid. Of him.
She had called him names then, names he had heard before. Weirdo. Stalker. Creep. Names that never bothered him in the past, but coupled with the look of fright on this girl's face – whose favorite color he knew, but name remained foreign – all of it sounded much harsher than he ever remembered. Especially when she dumped the rest of her milk on the top of his head.
After that incident, there was a sort of shift in public opinion on Akaashi. The whispers that followed him down the hall no longer mingled with soft giggles and smiles. They were whispers behind narrowed eyes and scowling faces, disapproving frowns upon any lips that would say his name.
Some friends stood by his side, half-heartedly defending him in a way that told him they didn’t actually care – they just wanted to stay on his good side. Nosy busybodies that only shielded him from the wary stares so they could keep asking him for his advice on whether he thought Dairiki-kun like girls with bangs or without.
It was one of the few times Akaashi had really, truly felt pathetic. His life was sitting in the sweaty palms of his peers, and a single wrong move will have him crushed by their grubby little fingers. It was infuriating, suffocating – having to think twice, thrice, four times before Akaashi could even say a single word.
But they had already decided on the box they would put Akaashi in, and he could do nothing more than sit still. Sit still and ignore the sneers and scowls from people that he used to call friends. Stay quiet when the boys of his class would shove him around the halls calling him freak. Look the other way when he’d come back to his desk and his things were destroyed. Ignore the pang in his chest when he ate his lunches alone in the library.
At the turn of his adolescence – his first year of high school – Akaashi decided that things needed to change.
Fukurodani Academy was a different setting – different classes, different halls, different people.
He would be a different Akaashi Keiji. No longer putting himself out there, or offering his observations to anyone who would listen. He would just keep to himself, and not let anyone close enough to contain him again.
Then he met Bokuto Kotaro.
The boy was simplistic in nature. Kind and bright, with a horde of people that always followed him around wherever he went. Dozens of eyes constantly tracked his every move without fail, and Bokuto happened to be the type of person that thrived in such an environment. Though, despite being interested in the same sport, Akaashi never felt the need to become a part of his entourage. He was exactly the kind of guy Akaashi wanted – needed – to avoid.
But some things are simply not up to him. Each morning, he managed to mask the slight surprise on his face each time he walked into the volleyball team’s gym, and found that Bokuto was already there. And had probably been there for who knows how long. When Akaashi joined this team, he fully expected to always be the first to show up, and last to leave the gym each day, just as it was at his previous school.
Yet, there Bokuto was, every morning without fail, nothing but his grunts and the echoes of the ball spiking on the ground filling the gym. Every morning, he’d greet Akaashi with too much energy, the corners of his lips never dropping despite the fact that Akaashi never responded with anything other than a silent nod.
For a little while, that was all they had. A silent agreement to work together on the sport they loved, to be a team on the court, and strictly teammates off of it. Nothing more, nothing less. Bokuto continued being his charming self, scoring victories and basking in adoration as he was wont to do. Akaashi stood content to the side, satisfied with the joy of knowing his serves were in the capable hands of such an ace.
Akaashi should have known that it was only a matter of time until Bokuto would flip everything around.
They had been alone in the gym for at least an hour at that time, while the rest of Fukurodani Volleyball Club had gone home at an actual reasonable hour. The sun was already slipping past the horizon, taking with it the last tendrils of the day’s light. Bokuto had begged Akaashi to stay a little longer and help with his spikes, as usual. And Akaashi was quick to agree, as usual.
What was unusual was the way Bokuto kept glancing at Akaashi from the corner of his eye, and Akaashi wanted to laugh at Bokuto’s pathetic excuse of being discreet.
“What is it?” Akaashi asked, uncharacteristically breaking the silence.
Bokuto jumped, startled that Akaashi noticed him watching. It took a second for Bokuto to gather himself, absentmindedly bouncing the volleyball on the gleaming gym floor, face scrunched in a way that Akaashi had only seen while Bokuto was on the court.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Bokuto opened with those words, bouncing the ball one last time before catching it tightly in his hands. Akaashi’s silence was the only indicator of an agreement, and Bokuto took this as his cue to continue.
“Why do you hold back?”
There were many things Akaashi thought Bokuto might have asked. This one wasn’t even really on the list. Akaashi had forgotten what it felt like to be caught so off guard, unable to do anything but stand stupidly as his mind buffered. Bokuto’s pupils moved imperceptibly quickly, raking themselves all over Akaashi.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Akaashi replied carefully, his shoulders rigid, nervously clasping his hands in front of him.
Bokuto frowned a little deeper, resting the volleyball now between his arm and his hip. “You don’t have to lie, Akaashi. I can tell you’re not… I see how you watch everything, but you always catch yourself before doing anything. It’s like you’re scared or… or – I don’t know! But you are, you’re holding back! I can just tell.”
It took all of Akaashi’s willpower not to let his jaw hang loose, only allowing himself to blink slowly. He dug through his mind, searching through every crevice for any memory of someone being able to read him like this. He went out of his way to be invisible, yet the overly cheerful, happy go lucky, sunshine ace of the volleyball team had somehow managed to still see right through him.
“So why?” Bokuto prodded again, and his tone could easily be confused as haughty, but Akaashi knew better. Akaashi continues to study Bokuto, the poor boy fidgeting under Akaashi’s frigid stare. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t back away. His weight shifted from one foot to the other, but he still waited for an answer
“It’s a long story,” Akaashi said quietly, turning around to walk towards the volleyball cart.
He hoped that would be the end of it, that Bokuto would take the hint and leave him alone. But before he could take more than three steps toward the cart, it clattered loudly and rolled away with the momentum of the volleyball that just landed into it from across the gym.
Akaashi turns back to Bokuto, a single eyebrow raised incredulously at Bokuto’s now empty hands. A corner of Bokuto’s mouth lifts devilishly, and he offers Akaashi nothing but a shrug of his shoulders.
“I’ve got a bit of time,” Bokuto rests his hands on his hips, shifting all his weight onto one leg. Akaashi wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, and wanted to ask Bokuto why he even cared. He was happy with how things were right now, and there was no need for him to do anything drastic.
Even as the thought passed through his mind, Akaashi could feel no truth behind it. And one look at Bokuto told him that he was not winning this round. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and heaved out a sigh.
“If I don’t hold myself back, then people tend to get intimidated,” Akaashi offered, and that was as much as he was willing to expand on at this moment. “And when people are scared of you… that’s when you find out how nasty they can actually be.”
“So what? You’re scared?” Bokuto asked, and Akaashi scoffed because of course he wouldn’t understand. Everyone loved Bokuto, and even those that didn’t still held some sort of respect for him. He was the ace of the volleyball team, and he was the school’s heartthrob. What the hell would he know about being shunned and isolated?
Akaashi opened his mouth to say something snarky, the words burning up his throat and on to the tip of his tongue. Except when his lips parted, it wasn’t his voice that came out.
“If you hold yourself back because of random, faceless people, then aren’t you letting them win?” Bokuto interrupted Akaashi before he could speak, as if he knew that if he let the setter say whatever he was about to say, then the conversation would take a dive into the worst. “I hate losing, Akaashi.”
“What does me losing have anything to do with you?” Akaashi asked.
“Because we’re partners now. I got your back, and if you lose, I lose,” Bokuto smiled this time, and Akaashi’s chest felt a little bit lighter, “Like I said, I hate losing. So don’t make me into a loser, okay? Or it’s gonna be a problem.”
Bokuto brushes past Akaashi as he finishes speaking, hands resting on the back of his head as he walks the distance across the gym and to the volleyball cart. Akaashi’s eyes followed him in awe, a sudden fluttering in his heart and stomach as the ace digs out a new volleyball and bounces it twice onto the hardwood floors.
“We’ve only done eighty serves,” Bokuto changes the topic seamlessly, continuing on as if he hadn’t rendered Akaashi speechless, “We gotta do at least twenty more before Yamiji-san comes back to kick us out.”
Akaashi felt his feet move, his arms positioning themselves to receive, his body running around the gym until sweat dripped on the floor all around him. But his thoughts were elsewhere, plagued with memories of a past that had apparently silenced him into a pathetic existence. He’d thought this path would be better, make him feel like he belonged.
Maybe for a while, he convinced himself that it did, satisfied with existing as a shadow on the wall. He hadn’t anticipated Fukurodani's golden-eyed Adonis to shatter the illusion with so much ease, Akaashi wonders how he ever fooled himself into believing it in the first place.
They didn’t say a single word to each other for the rest of their practice. Or on the walk home. Or at morning practice the next day. Bokuto didn’t speak to Akaashi until the middle of their afternoon practice, when Akaashi had received every single one of Konoha’s spikes and gave Bokuto elegant, risky serves that had everyone on the other side of the net scrambling on their feet.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Bokuto exclaimed while pumping his fist, giving Akaashi a pat on the back that made the setter jerk forward two steps, “Keep that up, Akaashi!”
Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side. That’s when he noticed the thumbs up Bokuto had thrown you from across the court, and the relieved smile you returned as you flipped the numbers on the scoreboard. You and Bokuto held each other’s gazes for a moment longer, and Akaashi felt like he’d eavesdropped on an entire conversation.
You shivered slightly when Bokuto broke away, as if Akaashi’s icy stare washed over your entire body. Then you turned your head unnaturally quick and met Akaashi’s stare dead on, making him jolt. You offered him a small wave and half a grin, but before he could respond, Bokuto was dragging him back into the game.
After practice, Akaashi found Bokuto waiting for him by the gates of the school. He flew into an immediate tirade about the bad grade he got on his exam, and how the cafeteria ran out of katsu before he could get there. You showed up in the middle of Bokuro’s story, and the three of you started walking in sync towards the direction of Akaashi’s house, your voice mingling with Bokuto’s as you offered your own tidbits of the day. Akaashi didn’t question how you both knew where he lived, or why he was suddenly flanked by the two chattiest students in Fukurodani. But if Akaashi had known that was how it would all begin, then he might have cherished that moment a little bit more.
He never really spoke to you during his initial months in the club, which isn’t saying much as he didn’t speak to anyone. You were nice enough – always asked him how he was doing, berating the older ones whenever they’d give him a hard time, giving him reassuring smiles whenever he got scolded for messing up. The perfect example of a manager; your only fault being the nonsensical hearts in your eyes whenever they happened to land on Bokuto.
You tried to hide it desperately, but there was no hiding the affection in your smiles whenever they were directed toward Bokuto. It was obvious, painfully so, and it bewildered Akaashi that Bokuto still had not noticed. He can at least assume Yukie and Kaori knew, if the worried glances they threw at each other behind your back were of any indication. But if they or anyone else on the team were aware of your feelings, they respected your efforts enough to keep their thoughts to themselves.
He couldn’t blame you, not in the slightest. Not when Akaashi’s own heart skipped a beat or two during the night of that initial confrontation, and suddenly he himself was enamored by the ace – wanted to give him the best serves, set up the best plays, win him all the games. When Bokuto was on the court, then it was natural law of the universe for Akaashi to use every skill in his arsenal to make sure he shines. Akaashi did not choose for it to be this way, it simply is.
Perhaps that was how it was for you as well, Akaashi thought. Sometimes, the most painful part about love is having no choice, the complete loss of control. Akaashi could see it; the groan after each stolen glance, shaking him off when his hug made your face too hot, how you would slap your cheeks whenever you caught yourself staring, like a desperate attempt to break yourself out of some wretched spell.
If Akaashi was being honest, he hated seeing you that way. It didn’t take long for you to become someone precious to him, maybe even quicker than it took for Bokuto. Bokuto infuriated Akaashi as easily as he amazed him, each day a toss up on whether he admired him or wanted to strangle him.
But you brought Akaashi comfort, and a sense of understanding he’d never experienced from a friend. Sure, technically it was your job to assist the team, but he could tell that everything you did truly came from your heart. You were kind and selfless, the type of person that would give someone the very shirt off your back but still spit venom at anyone that spoke ill of your friends.
To have you in his corner, Akaashi couldn’t even begin to explain how much it saved him. He’d been drowning in the middle of an ocean, nearly overpowered by turbulent waves when Bokuto had given him a boat, and you’d given him an oar. As long as he remained with the two of you, then Akaashi thought he could get himself through it all.
So whenever he would watch you watch Bokuto flex his muscles to the girls cheering in the stands during a game, watch you gripping your clipboard so hard your knuckles turned white, he may feel... a little bit more than annoyed. And whenever Bokuto would then openly flirt with some of those girls after the game, Akaashi could admit that he might even feel a little bit upset.
Because how could he not see the way you look at him, how you smile when he says your name, how you trail after him like a lovesick puppy? At this point, Akaashi’s been friends with the two of you for months, won and lost countless games, gone to training camps, spent more time with each other than with your own families. And the entire time, Akaashi had to work very hard to act like he didn’t notice your feelings. How could Bokuto still be so ignorant?
It really bothered him a lot more than he cared to admit, and it surprised him. Akaashi never expected to care about you the way he does, but there it was. Maybe it was this comfortable closeness between you that propelled Akaashi to act so boldly, in a way he couldn’t bring himself to in a long time.
At the end of one of these unsavory games, while Bokuto busied himself with trying to get the number of a cheerleader in the stand, Akaashi scanned the court for a second, stopping only when his eyes landed on you. You were comparing your notes with the coach, and Akaashi waited until you finished speaking and Yamiji-san stalked off to scold someone else before he approached.
“Keiji! There you are, I wanted to talk to about your receives in the first set, you –”
“Are you ever going to tell him?” Akaashi asked, not even registering what you were saying. You might have been irritated at his interruption if you hadn’t been confused by the seemingly random question he just threw at your face.
“What? Tell who what?”
“Bokuto,” Akaashi crossed his arms and straightened his back, “Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?”
You blinked at him once, the only indication that you heard what Akaashi said. He stood facing you, and the seconds seemed to stretch as you did nothing but stare back. The cacophony of sounds that usually bounced along the walls of the gym suddenly sounded muffled and dull. Your lips twitched slightly before they spread into a rehearsed grin, your face slipping easily into a mask of casual indifference.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Keiji,” you answered him softly, shaking your head.
“Come on, Y/N,” Akaashi groaned, “You know exactly –”
“No, I really don’t,” you said almost pleadingly, your eyes darting around the gym, a mixture of sadness and relief in them when you see Bokuto still showing off to the girls that descended from the bleachers. You look back at Akaashi, brows furrowed as you said, “I don’t know what would make you even think that. Bokuto’s my best friend – that’s it. God, Akaashi, you should really be careful about what you say. If someone heard you, they might have gotten the wrong idea.”
You shot him another hard look – almost a glare, and one that he could read very well, that told him you knew he knew you were lying, that said please, just play along – before you made an excuse of gathering up all the other players for the bus back to school.
Akaashi’s feet felt stuck to the ground, an achingly familiar helplessness sluicing through him as you walked away. He couldn’t even bring himself to move until Bokuto threw an arm around his shoulder to drag him out, finally done with his flirting and ready to go home.
You were already seated on the bus when Bokuto and Akaashi finally deigned to board. The seat beside you was occupied by a chattering Yukie, who refused to move despite Bokuto’s complaints of always being the one that sits next to you. You laughed sheepishly and yelled claims of ‘manager bonding’ and doing everything you could to avoid meeting Akaashi’s eye.
That was the tone of your relationship for the next few weeks. An awkward tension that no one else seemed to notice but you and him. You didn’t treat him any differently – you still greeted him with a smile, walked home together everyday, still messed with him during practice. You still asked him about his day, and told him about yours and Akaashi almost could have convinced himself that nothing was wrong.
But everything you did started to feel like an act. Disingenuous, like a robot following a set program. You stopped sitting next to Bokuto at lunch, started walking to classes with your other friends instead. Your eyes started flicking to Akaashi whenever you felt you laughed too loudly at Bokuto’s jokes, and you latched yourself to the other players, throwing everyone off kilter.
You were going out of your way to prove a point that only Akaashi could understand, and even when Bokuto himself had pointed out your strange behavior, you simply brushed him off. There was a sense of insecurity that Akaashi knew he instilled in your actions, and it brought a twinge of regret that he never wanted to feel when it came to you.
Akaashi had been pouring over how to remedy the situation for days when an olive branch came in the form of Bokuto’s new girlfriend.
She was a girl from another school, and he met her after one of their games. She came over to their side of the court and congratulated Bokuto for thoroughly defeating her team. She was very pretty and he liked her smile, so Bokuto had asked her out, and she was very quick to say yes. She was waiting for him one day after practicing, standing patiently at the entrance gates with a bag of homemade cookies in her hand.
Bokuto was so excited as he ran out of the gym to meet her, sparing one minute to ask Akaashi to let you know where he’d gone. Akaashi supposed it was a little comforting to know that Bokuto genuinely cared about you, even if it was encased with his own selfishness.
Akaashi waited until the rest of the volleyball club had emptied the gym before he made his way into the equipment room. He could hear your sniffling before he even opened the door, his heart slowly crumbling when he walked in on you crouched behind the volleyball cart.
You sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. Your forehead rested against your knees, and your quiet sobs filled the tiny room. You didn’t bother to look up as Akaashi approached, and fought his own tears as your shoulders shook with every breath.
He kneeled in front of you quietly, silently debating with himself before he placed a tender hand on your shoulder. You continued to cry, taking uneven, shaky breaths. You didn’t move from your position, and Akaashi briefly wondered if you’d even registered his presence.
“Did he leave?” You asked suddenly, voice thick and hoarse.
“Yes,” Akaashi answered.
Slowly, you lifted your head to face him. Your eyes were puffed and swollen, eyes rimmed with red and cheeks stained with tears. Snot dribbled down your nose disgracefully, and there was a sorry attempt on your part to wipe away the evidence of your heartbreak. The sleeves you’d worn your heart on were now soaked with salty tears, and you couldn’t control the tremble of your lips.
Akaashi didn’t know what else to do other than wrap his arms around you. The position was awkward and he’s pretty sure he’d actually never hugged you before. He felt you stiffen for a second, almost making him pull back. But then you buried your face into the crook of his neck and cried. Akaashi could feel his shirt begin to soak, but he pulled you tighter against him.
He had no idea how long he held you for, but he stayed there in that smelly old equipment room and he held you until his knees ached and you had no more tears left to give.
Neither of you spoke once you were done, giving him a sad smile as you pulled away. He didn’t offer one back, but he helped you up to your feet and kept an arm around your shoulder as you both walked out silently. Akaashi knew there was nothing he could say to soothe the pain, and you didn’t look like you wanted to say a single word about it anyway.
He simply walked home with you as usual, taking the long way around to ensure you both end up walking by your favorite takoyaki stand. He spent the money he was saving in his wallet for a rainy day, and bought you all the food you could eat. He had even gotten your favorite popsicle from the convenience store by your house, and though you still remained silent, he was happy to see you eat everything he gave you.
By the time Akaashi dropped you off at your front door, the tears were long gone and the moon was high in the sky. You turned to Akaashi, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tried to find the words. Akaashi smiled to himself, and reached out to pat his hand lightly on the top of your head.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, hoping you’d believe him. The lonely smile you gave him tells him you don’t, but you hug each other one last time anyway before saying your goodbyes.
Akaashi remembered the first time you and Bokuto successfully broke through his brick walls. Broke might have been too gentle of a word for it though – smashed through might be better. It was at the start of his second season with Fukurodani, and he was still riding the high of an amazing first year. He was ready for an even better year, ready to try out his new skills at the first practice match Yamiji-san had arranged with a school the team had never played with before.
Then a familiar voice called his name from the other side of the court. A few familiar faces from a life he was desperate to forget peered at him through the net, chuckling and laughing and asking him where the hell he’s been for the past year? Akaashi froze – completely and pathetically froze. It was only after six missed serves and accidentally smacking Bokuto in the back of the head with a ball did Yamiji-san finally tire of his antics and benched him for the rest of the game.
Akaashi ran to the locker rooms as soon as practice was over. He didn’t acknowledge his old classmates, didn’t even pretend to be polite or engage in empty pleasantries. Instead, he hid in one of the shower stalls until the rest of the team left and he was absolutely sure there would be no one left to see him leave.
But when he exited the stall, there you were. Standing next to Bokuto in a locker room he was absolutely sure you weren’t allowed to be in, with your hands on your hip and brows etched in concern. The two of you cornered him, and barricaded him until he fessed up about what the hell just happened on that court. Akaashi was a resilient man, but even he could do nothing against you two.
So he told you everything – from his ‘guru’ days to the milk dumping incident to the isolation and bullying – everything. He didn’t stop speaking for what felt like hours, but neither you nor Bokuto interrupted him once, allowing him to regurgitate everything he’d been holding in for years.
When he was done, he wasn’t sure what he expected. Pity, or sympathy or something like that. But, no. Instead, when he looked at the faces of his two best friends, all he saw was anger. Clenched fists, tight jaws, fire burning in eyes – anger. And it made him happy. Whatever happened in his past didn’t matter, because here, he had two people who were willing to get angry on his behalf.
He thought he couldn’t get any closer to you than he was at that moment. But he was wrong.
Walking away from your doorstep, Akaashi knew the bond between the two of you was solidified after this – having already seen each other at your worst, taking turns being each other’s salvation. You become more than his friend, you were his sister. Sister in pain, sister in darkness, sister in light. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, and you for him.
Thinking back, the sobbing was probably a bit of an overreaction. A little dramatic considering Bokuto had broken up with that girl not even three weeks later. He was crying and moaning about it for about ten minutes until you promised to take him to his favorite yakiniku spot, and he never thought about that girl again.
Things would go back to normal for a little while – the three of you acting as reckless teenagers do when they had free reign over the streets of Tokyo. Sitting in cafes sharing one drink for four hours, getting scolded by the coach for staying in the gym too long, laughing and arguing over the most ridiculous reasons that Bokuto turned emo.
Until Bokuto meets his next girlfriend. Then your heart breaks into a million pieces, and Akaashi tries to hold you together. Then Bokuto breaks up with his girlfriend, and comes running back with crocodile tears in his eyes. You’d catch him again with open arms, and things are alright for a little while until the ugly cycle starts over again.
Akaashi tried not to let himself wonder why you allowed yourself to accept this – allow Bokuto to put you through it over and over again. He told himself that he didn’t really care, it wasn’t any of his business. Whether you told Bokuto your true feelings or not was your prerogative, and Akaashi wouldn’t do anything but respect your decisions. Even if the decision seemed borderline masochistic.
Akaashi is forced to simply brush off his irritation at his best friend, because Bokuto was so painfully unaware of what he’d been doing. And if Bokuto was too stupid to see what was right in front of his eyes, then Akaashi was not interested in being the one to enlighten him.
Ultimately, Akaashi does what he does best – keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. He would listen to every single complaint Bokuto would have about his girlfriends, but he never dared offer his own opinions. He allowed you to drag him to whatever random activity would keep your mind off your own issues, but he never outwardly acknowledged the hurt you always tried to hide.
And as horrible it is to say, the girls never lasted very long. A month, maybe two at the most. Hardly enough time for Akaashi to memorize any names, as cruel as that sounded. Soon enough, they would complain about his training schedule, or whine about how he hangs out with his friends a bit too much, and that was all it took for Bokuto to cut it off. Bokuto’s priorities always remained the same, and that at least was something Akaashi happily gave him credit for.
By the time college rolled around, you had even started dating. No one else had ever successfully managed to ensnare your attention for more than five minutes, but Akaashi appreciated seeing you try. Though he admits it was rather amusing to see Bokuto so fervently talk shit about any person you had even a remote interest in, and maybe a little bit more than satisfying to see Bokuto finally be the one on the other side.
Bokuto, surprisingly, never actually brought any of his girlfriends around. He talked about them, and on occasion, he would invite them to some of his games, but that was it. It was odd, because Bokuto had always struck Akaashi as the type that wanted his partner cheering for him at every opportunity they could get, and would want to hear their voice screaming his name from the stands. But on the rare occasion he actually allowed any of them to come watch him, Bokuto was quick to usher them out of the gym before anyone could even introduce themselves.
It bewildered Akaashi to no end. Was it because he was ashamed?Akaashi’s met at least two girlfriends, and Bokuto’s gone on double dates with Konoha and Washio. Was he hiding his girlfriends from you?
Did he finally get a taste of his own medicine when he saw you kiss that guy in your psych class? Was Bokuto trying to spare you the pain? Akaashi didn’t really want to think of the implications if that statement were true.
Well, out of sight, out of mind was a set up that worked for him very well.
And more importantly, it worked well enough for you. Worked for Bokuto as well, apparently. He didn’t want to see any of your flings, and you were better off not seeing any of his. A nauseating song and dance that only the two of you knew the steps for. Neither of you were willing to be each other's partner, satisfied to let the opportunity suspend in the air between you, yet never reaching out to take it.
But hey, if you’re fine with it, then Akaashi could work with this. He could live with this.
That was until Hikari came along.
Akaashi was honestly a little surprised – Hikari wasn’t typically the type of woman that Bokuto would tangle himself with. That wasn’t to say anything about her looks, or her personality – she was very much Bokuto’s type. But she had already been an essential part of at least one aspect of his life before they started dating, and it was unusual for Bokuto to allow a relationship to transpire with someone so close – the manager of his team, at that. Bokuto always dated outside the proximity of his circle; someone that went to another school, or one that he met at the gym, or sat next to him in one of his classes.
Never anyone too close. Never anyone that would matter if he lost them.
But apparently, Hikari was a woman on a mission. Akaashi knew it from the first time he met her, could see it in the wolfish gleam in her eyes as she watched Bokuto from across the room.
He was a little taken aback, but not all that shocked when you came home from that party, practically giving him a heart attack when you burst through the front door and stormed directly to the couch. You didn’t spare him a glance before you face planted onto the cushions, buried your face into the decorative pillows he’d spent two hours picking, and let out the most ungodly scream he’d ever heard.
You didn’t have to tell him what happened; Akaashi could easily guess.
“What’s wrong with you?” he still asked slowly, afraid any sudden movements might cause you to lunge.
“I wish I knew,” your voice was muffled, not bothering to lift your head from the pillow.
A nagging voice in his head told him he should have stayed at that party, to be your emotional support at the very least if nothing else. He mentally kicked himself, glaring at the laptop he sat in front of, and the blinking document of his unfinished part in the group project he was meant to present to his group mates in the morning. As if the assignment was responsible for his failure.
You’d be safe if he left, he reasoned with himself. The volleyball team was full of idiots, but they were all good guys. Besides, Bokuto was there and there wasn’t a single chance in hell anything bad would happen to you while he was around. And if Bokuto was too drunk, then Kuroo at least would make sure you all got home safely. He’d even set himself up on the dining room table so he could see you walk through the front door with his own two eyes.
Because he had fully expected you to walk through those doors with Bokuto in tow like you’ve done dozens of times, and the fact that you arrived in the dead of night alone was enough to make Akaashi’s blood pressure rise.
He stood from his chair and walked the few short steps to the fridge. He opened the freezer door, pushing through packets of frozen meat until he found the cream puff flavored ice cream that you had to special order online. He grabs the pint and two spoons before he makes his way to the couch.
You didn’t move when he pushed your leg to the side, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. You didn’t move when he nudged your calves with his knuckles and asked you to sit up before you suffocated. So he just leaned back, tossing the lid of the ice cream pint onto the coffee table before digging in.
It’d been two bites of ice cream and one minute later when you slowly maneuver yourself to sit up. Akaashi tried to pretend not to notice you, but it was impossible when you snatched the extra spoon and the entire pint out of his hand in one fluid motion.
“Jesus, watch out for my fingers,” he mumbled, smirking at the glare you shot his way. But you only held the fake contempt until the first spoon of your favorite dessert hit your lips – then you were sighing and leaning your head against Akaashi’s shoulder.
He patted a hand on your knee, reaching over for a scoop of ice cream and chuckling when you blocked his spoon with yours. You tried to hide the ice cream from him, but his arms were long, and he easily snatched the pint back.
“Hey!” you cried out, and Akaashi quickly conceded before you really took out a finger.
“How’d you get home?” Akaashi asked, lifting his feet to rest them on the coffee table and leaning his head against yours.
“Kuroo walked me home,” you replied quietly.
“Good.”
Neither of you said another word as you let the quiet of the evening envelope you, not a single sound save for the occasional clashing of spoons when you both reached for another bite. He could feel you slowly ease beside him, the tension in your body melting away with each passing minute.
When the ice cream was finished, the empty pint decorated your table, along with two spoons haphazardly tossed, surrounded by splotches of melted cream that was sure to be a pain to clean. Your breathing was steady, and the time on the clock read ‘Akaashi is going to be exhausted in the morning’.
He didn’t care, though. You hadn’t moved or spoken in a while now, and Akaashi was convinced you were already asleep. He already prepared himself to spend the night on the couch, your head on his shoulder and his body twisted in a way that was sure to make his back ache the next day.
He was just seconds away from giving into sleep’s lovely tug when you broke the silence.
“I saw him with…” you said, fiddling with the hem of your shirt and clearing your throat, “It was Hikari.”
Akaashi sighed, reaching a hand up to pat your head.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, a pitiful question that he’s repeated to you countless times.
He waited for your usual answer – vehement denial that anything could be possibly wrong, an airy dismissal of his concerns, and a change in conversation so effortless, it almost makes Akaashi forget what he was saying to you in the first place.
This time, though – this time, a weighted silence followed his question, and you looped an arm around his, hugging him firmly.
“Not really,” you admitted softly.
It was the first time Akaashi had ever heard you confess your heartache. It was always something that was unspoken, and seeing your crumpled face made Akaashi regret ever keeping things that way. He turned fully to wrap himself around you gently, and you gave yourself to his embrace. He’d only heard a sniffle or two, but he could feel the moisture slowly seeping into his t-shirt. It was a feeling that was achingly familiar.
“Come on, now. Didn’t we say crying over boys was… I think your words were ‘so fucking embarrassing’,” Akaashi mumbled into your hair, smiling when he felt you chuckle against him. His stomach turned at the inadequacy of his words, but he had no idea what else to offer, so he simply offered himself. “I’m here for you, okay? Always.”
You pulled back for a moment to give him a watery smile. Akaashi wiped at your tear stained cheeks.
“Literally, your snot is dripping down to your mouth, and it’s disgusting.”
Your laughter warmed Akaashi’s cheeks, smacking him on the shoulder before you stood up. You said nothing else as you stalked off into the darkness of your bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights before shutting the door.
A myriad of emotions swirled through Akaashi as he remained seated on the couch. Was there more that he could have said? Could have done? If he had stayed at the party, would he have been able to stop this from happening? Was it even any of his business to stop it?
But Akaashi knows himself, and knows he would have said nothing if he saw Bokuto sneak away with Hikari. He would have done nothing except perhaps usher you to the other side of the house, using whatever means to keep you distracted. Even if he was there, all he could have done was spare you the knowledge of it – at least for one night.
He couldn’t help but feel as if he failed you then – to be a good friend, a brother. Or maybe he’s failed you for years. You’d never see it that way, could never even fathom the notion of his failure, and somehow that thought bothers Akaashi more.
Akaashi stood up and stalked to his own room. He shut the door and collapsed onto his bed, hatred pumping from his heart through his veins as he drifted off to sleep.
It was that lingering hate he could still feel churning in his gut when he awoke the next morning that spurred him out of bed and scurrying into the living room. He had every intention of starting the day as a new man – one who didn’t allow his cowardice consume him, didn’t place the comfort of his wellbeing over the needs of those he loved.
Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind, but his momentum halted instantly when he rounded the corner of the hallway, and saw you standing in the genkan. You looked like you had just rolled out of bed yourself, eyes swollen and still wearing the clothes from last night. Your hand rested on the doorknob, the front door wide open.
You turned to him as he approached, and gave him an almost pleading look. Akaashi only had to wonder why you were distressed for two seconds before Bokuto barrelled through the doorway, way too loudly and looking much too bright for the hour.
Akaashi has seen this dance before. He’s seen it so many times, the sequence of it already playing out in his mind like a familiar melody. Bokuto comes in with a plan that sounded equal parts ridiculous and exhausting, dragging you out without even asking. Akkashi scoffed as you tried and failed to ward off Bokuto with pathetic excuses, but as usual he was having none of it. And both you and Akaashi knew better than to think you could win against Bokuto Kotaro.
He stood aside while you flurried around the apartment like a blizzard storm, fighting the frown at how Bokuto stood in the foyer with his hands on his hips, a satisfied and smug look on his face. Bokuto turned to Akaashi as if he’d just noticed him for the first time, slapping him on the shoulder before asking, “Akaashi! Why do I feel like I didn’t even see you at all last night?”
It was an effort not to lift a hand and smack Bokuto in the back of the head right then and there. But thankfully, you came rushing out of your bedroom, hastily grabbing a pair of shoes from the genkan. You shot him one last apologetic glance, and you were out the door before he could even bid you goodbye.
And there he stood – alone in the foyer of his own apartment, feeling like nothing more than a fly on the wall.
A glance at the clock was the only thing that could have set him in motion, already running ten minutes later than he wanted to start his day. From the tornado named Bokuto that just passed, and the flurry in which Akaashi himself now dashed around, it seemed the apartment was destined to be chaotic.
He was impatiently tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter, glaring at his coffee machine as if his sheer will would somehow make the brew drip faster, when there was another knock on the door.
The day was already filled with chaos, but apparently also surprises, because the last person he expected to see on the other side of the threshold was Kuroo Tetsuro.
The two boys blinked at each other for a second, Kuroo looking just as confused as Akaashi as to why he came to visit in the first place. Kuroo shifted his weight from one foot to the other with his hands tucked in his front pockets, offered Akaashi a nervous smile and a lukewarm attempt at small talk before finally asking if you were still asleep inside.
Akaashi sighed as he delivered the unfortunate news that not only were you already awake, but were currently being dragged no doubt halfway across the city by none other than Kuroo’s very own roommate.
“Do you guys not communicate or something,” Akaashi asked blandly, and Kuroo just shrugged.
“He wasn’t there when I got home last night, and he wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. What do you want from me?”
Akaashi rolled his eyes, but he still widened the door for Kuroo to slip through, who only smiled at him sheepishly as he entered the apartment. Akaashi asked if he wanted some coffee, and Kuroo graciously accepted, slipping back into the easy, laid-back attitude that he’d always been known to wear.
Content to leave Kuroo to his own devices, Akaashi darted back into his room to quickly change. When he emerged eight minutes later, fully clothed and his backpack dangling from his shoulder, Kuroo was filling up his thermos with coffee while Akaashi’s already sat waiting for him at the counter.
Akaashi nodded his head in thanks, Kuroo handing him his cup as the two walked out of the apartment in tandem. He didn't say anything when Kuroo remained in step with him, chattering about his classes as they embarked on the twenty minute walk to campus. Didn’t even consider that it was a weekend, and Kuroo likely didn’t even have to head in this direction so early at all.
Kuroo stayed with Akaashi as far as the library entrance, the latter almost entering the building before he finally had the frame of mind to wonder, “Wait, so why’d you stop by the apartment today?” Akaashi looked over his shoulder and adjusted his bag a bit higher, “Sorry, I was too distracted by… everything. Did you need something?”
Kuroo chuckled almost guiltily, a crooked smile on his lips. He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at Akaashi as if he was debating whether he wanted to tell him the truth.
“Oh, ha,” Kuroo breathed out, shaking his head slightly, “No, I was just – I mean, y/n looked pretty out of it last night. And I was about to,” Kuroo cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt, “I was heading to that cafe – you know, the one in front of that seven eleven? – and I thought I’d check in to see if she was alive.”
Akaashi’s eyes softened in understanding, pressing his lips into a thin line and nodding his head once as he turned to face Kuroo fully and offered him half a smile.
“Thanks for taking her home last night, by the way,” said Akaashi, “She’s lucky you were still at the party.”
Kuroo let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. He takes a strap of his own backpack off his shoulder and flips it to the front, holding it against his chest as he hastily pulls open the zipper.
“Yeah, it was just good timing,” Kuroo replied while he continued to dig through his backpack. He eventually pulls out a few red packets and hands them to Akaashi, “Here. It’s red ginseng. I’m not sure how long you’re planning to be here, but it should help you get through the day.”
Akaashi examined the red packets in his hand, almost pouting with appreciation to Kuroo. But when he lifted his head, Kuroo was already walking across the courtyard.
“Make sure to give one of those to y/n when you see her!” He yelled over his shoulder, waving at Akaashi one last time before taking off.
Akaashi did eat the red ginseng, and it did help him get through the seven hours he had spent in the library that day. And he never thought twice about Kuroo’s impromptu visit to his apartment that morning, nor did he think twice about being escorted to the library despite the cafe Kuroo mentioned being on the complete opposite side of campus.
Because that was just Kuroo – Akaashi had never known him to be any other way. The very definition of all bark no bite, the kind of man that would tease you relentlessly for a stain on your pants, then take you to a store to buy you a new pair.
Though Kuroo may have been closer to Bokuto, Akaashi had a tremendous amount of respect for the man, and would probably even go so far as to say Kuroo was also one of his closest friends.
And when Hikari started to prove herself a new fixture, and Bokuto’s absence became more frequent, Akaashi was appreciative of Kuroo’s steady presence – still showing up to the study sessions, and coming over to watch volleyball games on Akaashi’s “much nicer TV”, and grabbing hot ramen and a cold beer after a particularly stressful test.
He was acting as the Kuroo Tetsuro he’d always been, and it was that semblance of normalcy that Kuroo effortlessly provided, without anyone asking him to, nor any expectations from anyone else – like a lighthouse in the middle of a raging storm, Akaashi knows it was Kuroo that brought them safely to harbor.
Because Akaashi was waiting for it. Ever since that day you had come home from your outing with Bokuto, dragging your feet through the door, looking like someone had just ripped the world out from beneath your feet, he had been waiting. For the other shoe to drop, for the inevitable descent into madness - at least your version of it.
He felt prepared for it in a way, felt ready. He was no longer going to pretend to believe your fake smiles and reassurances that you were fine while you locked yourself in your room days at a time, and he wasn’t going to let you throw yourself so hard into your studies that you forget to eat.
Akaashi felt things would be different this time around. He’d make sure of it. So he waited for the moment your mask would fall, and prepared himself to catch the pieces.
But the moment never came.
Don’t misunderstand. It’s not as if Akaashi wanted to see you have a mental breakdown for the eighth time in as many years, and he certainly didn’t want to watch you retreat into a shell of yourself as you attempt to reconcile your new reality with your broken fantasies.
Akaashi can see it in your face sometimes, even though you try your hardest to hide it. The exhaustion beneath your red-rimmed eyes, the very slight downturn of your lips when you thought no one was paying attention, and the tiredness in your slumped shoulders, as if you’ve been carrying a mountain on your shoulders.
Still, you always made sure to take care of everybody, and you did it for so long. Akaashi didn’t want to admit to being part of the guilty party, but he had just been as willing to take everything you gave, and believed when you said you needed nothing in return.
It was shameful, and a little bit more than selfish, but a small part of him wanted this chance. To prove himself a worthy friend, that he could take care of the people that mattered to him the most. He almost hated himself for it, for using your suffering as an opening, but he wanted to make up for all the lost opportunities, for the pain his silence might have caused.
It was his turn to take care of you, and he was ready to do a damn good job.
Except, you were fine.
He was thankful, if not a little thrown off by the lack of a depressive episode. But thankful, nonetheless.
More than thankful, though, he was curious. Bokuto was becoming increasingly absent, flaking on plans and ignoring phone calls. Akaashi had never seen him be so serious about a girl, and even he was feeling annoyed about being left in the proverbial dust. Akaashi had imagined you’d be a little more… upset.
He hadn’t noticed any particular changes. Your routine hardly deviated, aside from the occasional dinners or drinks at the bar with him and Kuroo – if you were not in class you were at work, if you weren’t at work you were home, and if you weren’t home you were in class. For a short while, Akaashi felt like he had been living with a ghost, just going through the motions until the sun set and rose again for the new day.
Sometimes, though, he’d find you on the balcony, sitting on the matching chairs Bokuto’s sisters bought for you when the two of you had first moved in. A mug of coffee or tea would be in your hands, the liquid looking as if it had long gone cold. You wouldn’t acknowledge Akaashi whenever he’d step outside to join you. Say nothing as he sits in the vacant seat beside you, staring only out into the blinking lights of the city.
When you were this way, Akaashi knew better than to try and bother you to speak. Your mind was eons away, in a world where Akaashi had never been and would never get to see. So he settled himself to sit beside you silently, until you were ready to climb back down from wherever you wandered off to.
But even those days became few and far in between.
It was something that confused him, like he’d been following a trail of crumbs laid before him, yet had no idea where it would lead him to.
That was, until he walked up to Study room 201 for the usual Tuesday evening session. On a normal day he would simply barge into the room without a thought as to who was already in there or if they were in the middle of anything important. But there was a tug in his chest that halted him in front of the narrow, rectangular window cut-out of the sliding door. He was still as he peeked through the glass, and something clicked so loudly in his brain, his eardrums nearly burst.
Because Study Room 201 was already a mess of textbooks and papers, prohibited snacks and drinks littered the conference table, and Kuroo Tetsuro was sitting next to you.
You were leaning over as you read something on his laptop screen, and Kuroo slightly leaned back to give you some room. Your eyes were roving over the screen quickly, faster than any normal person should be reading. Then you frowned at something, your finger pointing at certain spots as you explained his mistakes.
It seemed like you were ripping into Kuroo’s essay or project or whatever it was he was having you read over, your mouth running off into a seemingly endless tangent of all the things he could have done differently. If it was Akaashi in that situation, his head would probably feel so hot from how irritating your voice surely would have sounded in his ears. He might have shoved you away altogether.
Yet, there was Kuroo Tetsuro, sitting in the seat Akaashi had only ever seen one other person sit in, staring at you as he tried but failed desperately to hide the smile on his face. You turned just as Kuroo’s smile bubbled into a chuckle, and you smacked your pen so hard on his head, Akaashi was afraid he might start bleeding.
Kuroo’s chuckle turned into complete laughter, loud and obnoxious and infectious, it was only a matter of seconds until you dissolved into a fit of giggles yourself.
Neither of you paid him much attention when Akaashi finally decided to open the door. In fact, it seemed as if you hadn’t noticed him at all, despite nearly slamming the door in his haste to enter. Akaashi settled into the seat across from you, as he’s always done, and a small part of him wondered if Kuroo might move back into his usual seat beside him now that Akaashi has entered the picture.
He didn’t. He simply smiled at Akaashi and asked him if he’d like a turn to criticize his work. Of course, Akaashi agreed and thoroughly enjoyed tearing down Kuroo’s perfectly good thesis if only because it made both of you laugh.
Akaashi felt incredibly stupid for not seeing it before, and now that he has, he doesn’t understand how he could have possibly missed it. He stared at the man beside you now, sneaking grapes onto your laptop to get you to eat and wordlessly walking down the hall to fill your water bottle and filling in the seat Akaashi never braved to fill, and the revelations pour over him like a waterfall, loud and rumbling and serene all at once.
He’s glad it was Kuroo.
It was a little painful, though. Not a heartbreak, nor a pang of jealousy, but there was an ache that took hold in his body all the same. And he hated that selfish part of him that was hurt – wishing it was him that could have helped you heal.
But it wasn’t him, and he’s glad it was Kuroo.
Whatever sort of pain or shame or guilt that he was torturing himself with was quickly eased away by the sound of your muffled laughter through the apartment walls during late night phone calls, the color that was beginning to return to your cheeks, and the light that had finally returned in your eyes.
In those following months, you stopped locking yourself in your room, stopped losing yourself in the city lights on that cold, empty balcony. And more than once has Akaashi come home to find you and Kuroo splayed across the living room, either giggling over something playing on the TV screen with beer cans littered across his coffee table, or sitting beside each other in comfortable silence while you both worked or studied.
One way or another, Akaashi would get roped into whatever it was you were doing with Kuroo. And he’ll complain, berate you two for wasting his time on nonsense and tomfoolery, but it was those moments that provided him with a sharp clarity, like he finally has all the pieces he needed for this puzzle.
Akaashi may have been just a man on the outside looking in, but the picture that Kuroo had built with you – for you – was more beautiful and warm than Akaashi had ever thought to imagine. And whether you realized it or not, you now went about your days with a permanent smile on your lips and a lightness in the air about you that Akaashi had not felt in years.
It had filled him with something he didn’t even know he had been missing, as if his lungs were finally taking their first gulp of air after so long underwater. The brightness you started to exude felt as warm and refreshing as summer’s first rays of sun, and Akaashi finally lets himself relax.
Because Kuroo – that son of a bitch, Akaashi could kiss him in the mouth – he had taken the pieces of you that were scattered across the dirty floor, and he’s put together every single shard until you were nearly whole again. He had breathed an entirely new life into you, a mosaic of all the things you thought you couldn’t handle, brought back to make you stronger. You were almost unrecognizable.
But people don’t change so easily, and some habits are ingrained into your bones. Akaashi could already see the beginnings of it. The self-doubt, the fear, overthinking your every word and action. Often, Akaashi felt as if he could hear your thoughts from across the room, his throat constricting as they wrapped around him like a noose.
He didn’t want things to be the same, he told himself. Things were going to be different this time. He’d said it like a mantra over and over again, and now was the time for him to put his money where his mouth was.
And one day, Akaashi was in the kitchen making his usual cup of coffee, you came bouncing – no, literally, you were bouncing – out of your room with just about the goofiest smile he’d ever seen on your face, and it was all the push he needed to step over the line.
He allowed himself that bit of courage, something he’d spent years shoving to the back of his mind, smothered by his own hands.
“Excited for your date?”
“It’s not a date!”
“Would it be so bad if it was?I mean look at you, you’re smiling like an idiot.”
For one, glorious, precious second, Akaashi thought that things would finally work out. The gears started spinning your head, and even though you glared at him, Akaashi could already see a sparkle in your eye, and a hint of smile you tried to hide.
“You know what, Keiji, I’m getting sick of you –”
And it only took three knocks for everything to come toppling down.
The not-so-serendipitous entrance of Bokuto Koutaro was usually accepted with open arms, and an exasperated sigh that wasn’t actually exasperated but a little excited to see what he’s got planned for the day.
But that day, the sight of his streaked hair made Akaashi’s stomach drop to the floor, and hearing the way he spoke to you only made Akaashi see red.
He almost didn’t register the slam of his front door, the blood roaring in his ears too loudly for him to hear your heated exchange. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel sorry for his best friend, pouting like a child whose favorite toy was just ripped from his hand.
Akaashi knew, deep down somewhere in a dusty corner of his heart, that Bokuto didn’t mean any harm. He might have even thought he came here with the best of intentions, that maybe he was trying to be a good friend. And maybe that’s what irritates Akaashi even more, the complete lack of self-awareness, and the obliviousness to those around him – perfectly content with staying inside his own Bokuto-powered bubble.
Irritated, yes. Still, Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to be truly vexed. Not when Bokuto looked just as confused and distraught. Akaashi didn't know what he was thinking, or perhaps he wasn’t even thinking at all, but he couldn’t stop himself. But the worst part of it was, he didn’t want to. Because you were finally letting yourself be happy, and he wasn’t going to let Bokuto ruin it.
“She’s finally moving on. You shouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”
“Just leave it alone, Bokuto-san. Before anyone gets hurt.”
By the time he was finished, the flames of anger Akaashi felt just moments prior had completely died, and he was left with nothing but a taste of smoke and ash on his tongue. He spoke the words a lot more calmly than he felt, a familiar sense of sympathy creeping over his heart yet again.
Because the look on Bokuto’s face was one Akaashi had seen before, but never on him. A mix of shock and confusion, topped off with a hint of anguish and regret. It looked sad enough on you, but on Bokuto, it was heartbreaking.
So he truly didn’t know. Akaashi’s not sure if it made him feel better or worse. He just knew he was finished with this game, and although he couldn’t really understand the gravity of what he’d just done, he didn’t regret it. When Bokuto silently nodded and left his apartment, he felt only relief.
There was an eerie calm that settled in the wake of Bokuto’s departure. You came back from your date-not-date with Kuroo in infinitely better spirits than when you left, back to skipping around the apartment while humming a tune only you could hear, and the morning’s debacle was already long forgotten.
Kuroo, unsurprisingly, became quite determined to attach himself to your hip, with a new sense of comfort and a different sort of tension that Akaashi didn’t feel like addressing. It seemed the encounter with Bokuto had added fuel to more than one fire, and if Kuroo was trying to hide his feelings before, he wasn’t bothering to do so now. Akaashi’s caught the way Kuroo looks at you more than once, and it’s even given him butterflies more than he cared to admit.
Bokuto eventually apologized, and he’d even started bringing Hikari around more. She really was a sweet girl, clearly putting in the effort to get to know Bokuto’s friends. She even desperately tried to ignore Bokuto’s longing looks at a certain blossoming couple, and Akaashi wished he had the capacity to care just a little bit more about the poor girl Bokuto dragged into the tangled web of his heart.
Alas, he was too busy preparing for the storm.
Akaashi had always been an overthinker. It’s in his nature, something inherent in him that he could never shake no matter how hard he tried. Or it could be the result of his younger days hiding behind his fear, maybe it was something he never actually got over. Akaashi doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows much of anything these days.
His useless mind was only searching for ways he could have prevented this. If he pushed you about your feelings earlier, would you have ended up with Bokuto instead of Kuroo? Would it have been the two of you laughing and dancing, pouring honey in each others’ ear in a crowded room like no one was watching?
If not for Akaashi, would Bokuto have ever even realized you were in love with him? Were it not for him, would it have eaten away at Bokuto’s very heart until he attacked his own best friend? Akaashi should have kept his mouth shut. If he did, then maybe you might have actually allowed yourself to enjoy being with Kuroo, to let him romance you in the way he’s been aching to do, to let yourself fall in the way you’ve been afraid to for so long.
And if he did, then maybe he wouldn’t have found Bokuto’s white-knuckled fists gripping Kuroo’s shirt in the middle of a stunned crowd, drenched in sticky alcohol and hair in disarray while you were crying in the corner. Hikari wouldn’t have been sobbing in the back of a dirty taxi, fighting the bile rising in her throat from the betrayal of the one meant to love her most.
He wouldn’t have had to drag you home, too stunned into silence to fight him. He was thankful for that, because he knows that if you had seen the look on Kuroo’s face as everyone he loved left him soaked, eyes stinging, and alone… Akaashi would have deserved that punch you’d throw in his face.
There were a plethora of things he wished he said, things he could have done. They played through his mind like an endless reel of maybes and what ifs and would haves over and over again as if determined to drive him insane.
He’s not sure what to do now. He’s not sure if he should even do anything. He was tired, he hadn't eaten in at least twenty seven hours, and when he looked in the mirror that morning, he cringed at the deep purple color that encircled his eyes.
The coffee maker beeped loudly, and Akaashi mindlessly grabbed his mug from the cabinet. His eyes were unfocused, relying on his muscle memory to grab the oat milk creamer from the fridge and mixing in his preferred amount of sugar.
The morning was calm, a stark contrast from the evening before, and Akaashi’s been awake for a lot longer than he’d care to admit. He stirred his spoon in circles, watching the whorls of milk blend into inky water. This was his fourth cup. Four times he’s brewed a fresh pot, hoping to have one ready for you once you step out of your room. Four times the coffee had turned cold, and he watched it swirl against the steel of his sink as he poured it down the drain. Four times he’s walked to the counter to brew a fresh pot again.
He winced when he took a sip, coffee burning his tongue, like one last insult to his injuries. By now, he’s already used up more than half the bag of coffee beans you brought home from work just the other day. He hated being wasteful. He hated drinking more than one cup before he could even eat his breakfast. He hated waiting for you alone with nothing but the sugar granules littering his dining table to keep him company.
He hated the silence in his apartment. He hated the 53 missed calls on his phone from Kuroo and Bokuto. He hated that he was the one who sent Bokuto into a downward spiral. He hated every single face that did nothing but gawked with their phones out while two men – who had never so much as raised their voices at each other – looked like they were two seconds away from ripping each other's throat out.
He hated everything.
But he would still do it all over again. Let the fire he had unknowingly started burn their slate clean. If it means peace, if it means freedom from the cage they built around themselves… then he’d do it all over again, for his friends.
And once it grows cold, Akaashi will brew another pitcher of coffee. He will make himself another cup.
And he will sit in this chair, and he will wait until he sees you walking out that door.
The sun was nearing its peak when you finally woke up.
You cursed yourself for forgetting to draw all your curtains last night, and you squinted against the harsh rays of sun now beating down on your face.
It was an effort to open your eyes. There was crust lining your waterline, stinging your lashes when you tried to flutter them open. Your lids still felt heavy and swollen, and you barely won the battle of keeping them open.
Your head was throbbing, so loudly that it was the only thing you could hear. You dig into your temples with the heel of your palm, groaning as you positioned yourself to sit up. You run your hands along the rumpled sheets until your fingers hit something hard. You dig through a little more, closing your eyes and bracing yourself as you grab your phone.
Dead. Only a black screen stared back, no matter how many times you pressed the buttons. You tossed the phone back on the mattress just as you flopped yourself back down, the both of you landing on the sheets like a useless brick.
You should probably charge the damn thing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb the morning’s peace just yet. You doubt you’d find another moment of it the second you get out of this bed.
Instead, you bury your fingers into your own hair, twisting your body around until your face is buried in your pillow, and you fight the urge to scream into it, too worried that the extra strain might actually cause you to hurl your guts out.
Not yet.
You burrowed even deeper into your sheets, wrapping the blankets around yourself until you were nothing more than a cocoon of self-preservation. Because you weren’t ready to face it. The betrayal you were unknowingly the center of, the years of friendship that was splintered in a matter of seconds, the broken hearts of the people you cherished the most. You weren’t ready to face any of it. Not yet.
As if the cowardly admission was some sort of key, memories began to flood through wide open gates in your head, soaking you all over again with sticky alcohol and salty tears. You tried to push it back, tried to cover yourself, like holding an umbrella in a hurricane. But the waves of memory overpowered you, knocking you off your feet each time you remembered Kuroo’s wide-eyed, vacant look as he watched Akaashi haul you away.
Kuroo.
Tetsuro.
Even a mere whisper of his name still sends shocks through your nerves, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The thought of him consumed you so easily, so wholly, like he was a blanket of calm that smothered all your raging thoughts until there was only him. Everything about him made you so dizzy, light headed and out of breath.
Every time you hear his voice, so rich and creamy, it coats all over you like something luxurious on your skin. Forcing yourself to pretend that you’re not breathing in his scent whenever he’s near, pretend that cedar and smoke and warm amber don’t haunt your dreams – it was a tremendous effort on your part to keep yourself sane, to keep yourself from free-falling into the rabbit hole that was Kuroo Tetsuro.
But last night… You could have dreamt all you wanted about what it would be like to have him look at you with shaky breaths and dilated pupils and ask if he could kiss you, and it still wouldn’t have amounted to anything close to actually having him in front of you. It made you want to laugh almost as much as it made you want to cry, because of course Kuroo Tetsuro could make reality surpass fantasy.
You wished the memories could have stopped there, that your night ended with the only kiss that has ever made you feel like you were in the clouds.
But fate was almost as cruel as life.
It was difficult to explain how it felt, for everything to finally click into place while also spiraling into confusion.
You understood with painful clarity why Hikari hated you, why she acted like you were a pebble in her shoe, and looked at you as if your very existence was an eyesore. You remembered that fight with Bokuto, and the tension that never went away even after the two of you reconciled – all the times Bokuto’s mood would plummet at the mere mention Kuroo, each time you ignored the frustrated glances he threw towards the both of you, hoping you were simply imagining things.
Because what reason could Bokuto possibly have to act that way? You thought about it over and over, and could never come up with an adequate conclusion.
Now, your willful ignorance has finally come to pay its retribution, a sort of cosmic joke that you were sure some powers above found absolutely hilarious – because Bokuto Kotaro was in love with you. In love. With you. Has been, apparently, for … you didn’t even want to think of how long, couldn’t comprehend the implication of his confession.
A confession that you vividly remember praying for, words that your heart has longed for and ached to hear. Cried for in the silent void of your bedroom, hoped for in your fractured soul, because for so long, you waited, even just for a sliver for a chance for Bokuto to actually see you as more than a friend, more than just the overbearing manager who followed him to college.
It almost kills you to know that he was waiting for the same thing.
For a moment, you envisioned it. The life you could have had with Bokuto – walking around campus tucked beneath his arm, registering for classes that fit each other’s schedule, wearing his jersey when you watch his games. Maybe you would have joined the team as a manager, and there wouldn’t have been a second you wouldn’t spend together. Bokuto probably wouldn’t have even waited for the first year to end before convincing you to move in with him. The apartment would have been small, but he wouldn’t ever miss a single dinner together.
Every morning, you’d wake up to an empty bedroom, but by the time you prepared two steaming mugs of coffee, Bokuto would have already returned from his morning run. He’d kiss you and embrace you, and you’d get ready for the day together, leave your home together, and come home together.
Grief is peppered through every thought like weeds, mourning for the time lost and each memory that never happened. It would have been a beautiful life together. It would have been filled with love, laughter, and happiness so bright, just imagining it made your eyes burn.
The smell of fresh coffee permeated through the musty, stale air of your bedroom. You could almost see the trail of the scent wafting through the open seams of your door, snaking through the smog until it wrapped around you like a warm embrace. It beckoned you like a familiar friend, so enticing that it actually spurred you to sit back up.
Suddenly, you felt your stomach grumble and the dryness in your mouth felt like ash, as if the smell of arabica beans was that first fallen domino that had all your issues tumbling into each other. You ignored the rush of nausea churning in your stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol you drank last night, and swung your legs over the side of your bed, feet absently shuffling against the wooden floor until they found your slippers.
You stifled a groan as you stood, and dragged your feet across the room slowly. You snatched the thin robe you kept hung over your computer chair, and wrapped it tightly around your body, taking a deep breath as you closed your fingers around the door knob and twisted it open.
You nearly choked on the wave of aroma that rushed at you so fast, you might have thought you were stepping into an actual roastery instead of your own living room. You half expected to see Akaashi standing over a heated pan, vigorously stirring beans until they turned brown – or however the hell one would roast coffee, you seriously had no idea.
Instead, you found him standing in front of the coffee maker you bought for him two Christmases ago, hands on his hips and foot tapping on the floor. The machine was bubbling and hissing as the coffee dripped slowly into the pot, and the counter was an abhorrent mess that you’ve quite literally never seen Akaashi make in the entire time you’ve lived with him.
“Did you open up some sort of… cafe in our apartment that I wasn’t aware of,” You tried to keep your voice light and playful, but the words scratched at your throat, and they came out sounding tired and rough.
Akaashi could have broken his neck with the speed he turned around, shooting an arm out to catch himself on the counter when his momentum threatened to hurtle his body too far. He regarded you with wide, tired eyes, coffee staining his shirt in four different places, and you had a strange feeling that if you reached up and tried to run your fingers through his hair, you would find a bird’s egg nestled somewhere deep within. He looked – and you were putting this nicely – like absolute shit.
You tried to smile, and his gaze immediately softened, lips coming together into a tight line. And you regretted any previous thoughts you might have had about the malnourished vibe he was putting down., because the pathetic way he looked at you definitely said that you looked about a million times worse.
“I thought I’d give it a try,” he said softly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter, “It can’t be that hard, can it? Especially with an experienced barista in the vicinity.”
You clicked your tongue, and gave Akaashi a mocking glare, “You wouldn’t be able to afford my skills and services.”
Akaashi brought a finger up to his lip in faux-thought, and you felt your heart flutter when he opened his arms wide, “I can pay with warm, comforting, and gentle embraces?”
You shook your head, and your slippers slapped against the wooden floor as you hurriedly made your way across the room and crashed into Akaashi’s arms.
“Can’t you be normal and just call it a hug?” Your voice was muffled against his chest, “Who the hell calls it an embrace these days?”
He pulled you against him even tighter, “Literary geniuses, that’s who.”
A chuckle softly escaped from your lips and vibrated against Akaashi’s chest, and it felt like a tether had been snapped. Even more giggles tumbled out, and the fact that Akaashi was not laughing somehow made it even more funnier – made what funnier, you actually had no idea, though at this point you could hear how unhinged your laughter actually sounded. But you couldn’t hold it back, and you laughed until your belly ached, and tears formed on the corners of your eyes.
You laughed until the laughter felt like acid burning up your throat, and the tightness of it made it difficult to breathe. The tears that pooled in your eyes now flowed freely down your cheeks, and there was no stopping it then, not when you choked out a sob, clutched at the fabric of Akaashi’s shirt and cried. While Akaashi rested one hand on the back of your head, and stroked small circles around your back with the other, you wept and you cried. Cried and cried and cried.
Whatever restraint you’d been keeping against your heart was undone by the strength of Akaashi’s arms around you, and knowing that he was there to hold you together… it was enough to have you falling apart.
You don’t know how long the two of you stood in that kitchen for. It could have been a few minutes. It could have been a few hours. Akaashi didn’t falter, didn’t move a single inch. Through each shuddering sob, every heaving gasp for air, Akaashi had stayed. He waited until the shaking subsided, and your breathing evened out, and there was not a single tear left to cry.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you peeled yourself away from his embrace, wiping your entire face with the sleeve of your robe. You backed another step, and Akaashi met your swollen, red eyes with his own sunken, tired ones. He tried to smile at you, and tried extremely hard to seem like he wasn’t uncomfortable in his soaked shirt.
“Go change out of that thing,” you said by way of apology, cringing at the mess you’d left behind, “Please.”
For a second, you thought Akaashi might have argued with you. But then his eyes switched from you to the hallway then back again, before he nodded and darted to the direction of his bedroom. You breathed out a laugh and walked to the counter, grabbing a towel from beside the sink and wiping away the coffee grounds that dirtied your usually-immaculate kitchen.
You were sweeping up the stray flecks that littered the floor when Akaashi came barrelling back into the kitchen. Before he said a single word, he snatched the broom violently from your hand.
“Hey, I was –”
You couldn’t finish your sentence, not when Akaashi practically shoves you into a seat at the dining table.
“Stay,” he pointed a finger at you, and you quickly swallowed back the snarky comment you were prepared to throw out. Your eyes just silently followed Akaashi as he fussed around the kitchen, mopping the rest of the floor and shaking his head at you when he realized you’d already cleaned the counters.
He grabbed your favorite mug – drying on the dish rack like it had just been washed after use – then turned to make you a cup of coffee. But when he touched the top of his fingers to the glass body of the pitcher, he frowned. Deeply.
“What’s wrong?” you asked.
“The coffee got cold again,” he grumbled, making you shoot out of your seat and scramble towards him when he yanked the decanter off the hot plate and headed to the sink.
“Stop!” you practically screeched, just barely making it in time to grip his wrist before he could fully pour the contents down the drain. “What the hell are you doing?”
Akaashi just stared. “It’s cold now.”
“So?!” you looked at him like the roles have now been completely reversed, “We can just microwave it or something. You don’t need to throw the whole thing out.” You tried to pry the pitcher out of Akaashi’s hand, but he clutched on tightly.
“I wanted you to have fresh coffee,” he said simply, and you gaped. You looked at him for a second longer before your eyes flick back to the counter that you just cleaned up, and realization washed over you like a gentle shower.
“Did you –” you paused for a second, unsure of how you were going to deal with this situation, “Have you been making a new pot of coffee each time it went cold?”
Akaashi opened his mouth as if to speak, but quickly clamped his lips down to press them into a thin line. You managed to grab the pitcher from Akaashi with no resistance, and rushed to place it back into its proper place on the machine. In your peripherals, you could see a crinkled bag, folded in half and tucked in a corner behind the coffee maker.
“Is that…” you mumbled to yourself before quickly snatching the nearly empty bag from its hiding place, “Keiji!”
He winced slightly when you presented him with the evidence, coffee beans flying astray when you shake the bag in Akaashi’s face.
“I just got this bag, Keiji!” you groaned, lamenting the gallons of your favorite roast undoubtedly swirling through the drainpipes of Tokyo by now. You peeked into the bag, frowning when you saw that only about a fourth of the bag had been saved, “Now I have to wait until next month for the cafe to give me a free one.”
“I wanted you to have –”
“Fresh coffee. I got it,” you sighed, placing two hands on each of Akaashi’s shoulders. Again, he showed no resistance when you pushed him backwards and sat him on your empty chair. He opened his mouth to argue when you grabbed two mugs and poured in the cold coffee, but the glare you shot him was enough to make him shut it. You ignored his searing gaze as it trailed after your every movement, ignored it burning holes in your back while you microwaved the two mugs of coffee, ignored the burn in your throat at the pathetic way he watched you place one mug in front of him, and held the other as you took the empty seat across from him.
You gestured silently to the mug of coffee.
“Drink,” you ordered, and the word made Akaashi instantly grab the handle, “There’s only room for one mental breakdown in this apartment at a time. And I call dibs for today, okay?”
Akaashi couldn’t stop the laughter that broke free, and you couldn’t help but smile at the exasperated way he shook his head. When the two of you lifted your mugs, your eyes met for just a moment, and the smile you shared with your best friend might have been enough to heal your heart.
Then, you took a sip of the coffee, and the moment the dark liquid hit your tongue, you had to fight the cringe, and pretend that the way he burnt this batch didn’t break your heart all over again.
“That’s…” you begin, searching for the words. You coughed instead of finishing your sentence.
Akaashi simply sighed. He reached a hand in his pocket, and pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?” you asked, watching him slowly slide his fingers up and down the screen.
He gives you a pointed look. “What’s it look like? I’m getting breakfast delivered.”
The sun looked just about ready to set by the time you and Akaashi decided to settle down. Empty take out boxes were piled in the proper compartments of the trash bin, and neither of you have bothered to clean up the crumbs all over the table.
Breakfast had passed by silently, the both of you just content to be in each other’s presence, still sniffling as you shoved entire forkfuls of souffle pancakes from your favorite bakery. You shrieked with delight when you recognized the logo on the bag Akaashi retrieved from the delivery man. You didn’t even scold him for the insane delivery fee he probably had to pay for them to bring it all the way here.
You just crushed him in a tight hug and accepted his kindness with a kiss on the cheek. He sighed in the way you imagined an older brother would about his annoying little sister, despite you being an entire year older. It made you chuckle, especially when he let you break his very strict “no eating in the living room” rule.
If Akaashi had any questions or concerns about the events that transpired last night, he mercifully kept them all to himself. After breakfast, he dug out the kotatsu blanket from the storage closet, and – after screeching to Akaashi that he was banned from making any beverages for at least a month – you brewed some of his favorite green tea.
You laid under that kotatsu with Akaashi for hours, sipping on tea that had long turned lukewarm, talking about things that were of neither importance or relevance. You wasted away the entire day, it seemed, if the setting sun and ombre skies out the windows were of any indication.
Akaashi sat across from you, his back leaning against the foot of the couch. The kotatsu blanket reached up to his waist, and his head lolled lazily to the side as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. You’d long thrown propriety out the window, though it never is in the room when you’re with Akaashi. You managed to snuggle yourself completely under the kotatsu table, the blanket skirt covering your body while using your seat cushion as a pillow.
Akaashi had gone through tremendous effort to make this day feel as casual as last week’s Sunday morning. You had a niggling feeling that if you let him, then Akaashi would be very content in keeping you inside this bubble of safety and comfort that he’s curated specifically for you. He’d keep the problems that were waiting past these four walls at bay for as long as he possibly could. This, you knew without a shred of doubt.
It was a kindness that you held closely to your heart. One that you knew was the type of kindness that didn’t boast, but wrapped itself around you gently and held you against its chest. The longer you looked at Akaashi, rubbing his finger against his nose and eyes glued to the screen, the more your heart swelled with that affection he generously poured into your cup.
And you knew that because he’s loved you enough to create this bubble, you had to love him enough to pop yourself both out of it.
“Keiji,” your voice felt hoarse from the silence, the words scratching at your throat, “Was I really that blind?”
Akaashi stilled almost imperceptibly, if you hadn’t known him for years, you probably would have missed it. He clicks the button on the side of his phone, and he gently places the black device on the table. He shuffles to move his seat cushion from beneath him and tosses it to the side, settling himself beneath the blanket before laying down to face you.
“You weren’t blind, y/n.”
He said it so gently, probably worried that if he spoke any louder, then you would shatter. It softens your heart as much as it sends a spike of irritation through you.
“Dumb, then? Oblivious? Stupid? Naive? Either way you spin it, it still comes down to my faults, my…” your voice cracks, the traitorous thing, and you stopped to clear your throat, “What word would you use, then, Keiji?”
“Young. Afraid. Hurt,” He says with a lot more force and clarity than you expected, each word striking directly into your heart, “A whole lot of other words before stupid, actually. An entire dictionary’s worth.”
You wanted to wipe that look off his face, really. Eyes misting his usual blue to a foggy gray, and failing to stop his wretched mouth from quivering. How many more people in your life were you going to hurt? You felt pathetic.
You stay silent for a moment before starting, “Bokuto… he must have also been in a lot of pain,” you sighed, turning to supine and training your eyes to the popcorned ceiling, “Everything’s so… fucked up. And it’s all because of me and my stupid ignorance and –”
“Please, stop saying that,” Akaashi groaned loudly, balling a fist into his own hair.
Exasperation floods through you like a tidal wave, it crashes through you viciously and your body shoots itself up into a sitting position before you could even think. You couldn’t hold back the glare at Akaashi before asking him with a bite, “Well, what do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know,” Akaashi answers with a growl, maneuvering himself up to face you, his fists landing helplessly on the table, “but please, stop saying stuff like that, not when–” Akaashi sighed, bring two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I knew about everything for… a long time.”
You shrugged carelessly as you replied, “Well, yeah. I know I never actually told you, but I thought you figured it out after… the equipment room incident.”
Akaashi pursed his lips together. “Oh, I did. But I wasn’t talking about just you.”
Your eyebrows lifted, opting to stay silent. Akaashi nibbled at his bottom lip in hesitancy, allowing him the time to process through whatever he clearly wanted to say. You brace yourself when you see him taking a slow, deep breath.
“With you, it was… so fucking obvious. And it wasn’t just because you followed him around, or laughed obnoxiously loud at his dumb jokes. If anybody looked at you for longer than five seconds, they’d see it on your face – clear as day. You looked at him like… I don’t know. Like he made all the flowers bloom, or painted the sunset with your favorite colors or something poetic like that.”
“That sounded pretty poetic to me,” you laugh, though it sounded hollow and despondent in its attempt to hide the gut punch Akaashi’s words delivered. Akaashi smiled ruefully, but he continued.
“My point is – you never had to tell me. I knew it. You knew it. We all knew it. Your feelings were never the big secret you thought it was. Bokuto might have been the only person in this world that never picked up on it. And actually, there was a point in time when I genuinely thought he was ignoring them on purpose. Fuck, maybe he did. I never really figured it out. I don’t really think he ever did either. Because with Bokuto…”
Akaashi took the deep breath you’ve been holding the entire time he spoke, and he looked directly at you this time as he spoke.
“I knew he loved you. He loved you, maybe a bit more than he knew what to do with. God, if you only saw how he’d glare at any guy that tried to even look at you. They were ridiculous – hilariously vicious. He always did it behind your back, but it was about as subtle as a flashing neon sign. I don’t know how you never caught him.You followed him around, sure, but he made sure he kept you by his side, never letting you stray too far from him. Because if you weren’t next to him, then he was… lost. It’s stupid but– yeah, I think I knew he loved you, even before he knew it himself. And I could have told him. Should have told him. It would have been easy, quick – ‘Bokuto, Y/N is in love with you’. And he would have gone running. Well, nevermind. It might have taken him a couple days, but when it hit him… I don’t think anything in the world could have stopped him.”
Silver streaks on Akaashi’s face matched the warm tears that trickled down your own, and you tried to catch his gaze but at this point, he stared fixedly down at his lap.
“Keiji…” you called out to him, somehow wrangling his name through the tightness of your throat, because you need him to look at you. Needed him to see that you didn’t blame him, would never even think to. But he doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he barrels on.
“But I didn’t. Obviously. I kept my mouth shut, and just watched you two bumble around like idiots. It was, believe it or not, torturous for me. For the longest time, I kept my nose out of your business, because I know what it’s like to… Ahh,” He bows his head, and covers his eyes with the palm of his hand. It took a moment before he wiped his hand away and continued, “I did try once, though. With you. And I felt so completely iced out afterwards, I remembered exactly why I kept out of it for so long.”
He must have sensed the rebuttal at the tip of your tongue, but he interrupts you before you could even start.
“I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty. I’m telling you this because… I was afraid too. I was scared that if I had kept pushing, then you would have pulled away from me completely. I was scared that Bokuto would think I was overstepping my boundaries. I was scared that it would work out, and the two of you would phase me out of your lives. I was scared it wouldn’t work out, and everything would be…”
His voice trailed off, so you softly finished for him, “Fucked up?”
He finally, finally looked at you then. You reached across the table and held his hand in yours. You felt him stiffen for a second before turning his hand and curling his own fingers around yours. A giggle of relief spills from your lips, and it elicits a chuckle from Akaashi, and the sound blooms within you.
“You guys are my best friends,” Akaashi said, his grip on you tightening just a fraction, “And I saw what you were putting each other through. I was watching it all happen in front of my own eyes. I should have done something more, right? If I had tried harder with you, if I just talked to Bokuto, if I bothered even just a little bit more to get over my shit and helped my friends… Then this never would have happened. And Kuroo… God, Kuroo. He didn’t need me to do a damn thing, he just loved you but still I managed to fuck things up for him and –”
“Shut up!”
Akaashi started a little at your sudden outburst, but it achieved the desired effect. He blinked at you once, then twice. You almost felt a twinge of guilt at your lack of patience, considering all that Akaashi was beginning to unpack in front of you. But weren’t you the one that called dibs on the mental breakdown today? If he thought you were just going to sit there and listen to his blasphemy, then he’s sorely mistaken.
“Don’t you even try to blame any of it on yourself, Keiji,” you spat out, irritated, “How could you even say something so convoluted? How could you even think such a –”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Akaashi interrupts you fervently, as if desperate to get you to listen to him, “I let my fears hold me back, instead of facing it for the people that mattered to me. I’m just a coward.”
“No, Keiji. You’re not a coward. You…” You let out a heavy breath, all the sharpness in your tone now softening at Akaashi’s deep set frown, “Do you even have any idea how much you saved me? Even though things were… unspoken between us, I knew you understood me. Without me ever having to say a single word, you understood me. And you never judged me or tried to tell me I was wrong. You just… you just held my hand. No matter what happened, good or bad, if I looked to my side, I knew I would see you there. Do you think you’re the only person that notices the little things? I felt your support, and I felt your love. Even when you didn’t say it out loud.”
“But–”
“No more buts, I really don’t want to hear it. You weren’t the one responsible for us,” your eyes were hard, providing no room for arguments, “You were just a kid. What could you have even done? You saw how stubborn I was being! Do you really think I would have listened? You were young, and afraid, and didn’t know any –”
Too late. The words flew out of your mouth quickly, you didn’t even think twice about it. Your guard was down, and you knew that was the most dangerous thing around Akaashi Keiji. Because too slowly did you realize the trap he laid out in front of you. And as the words slipped past your lips, you realized you were already too late. Akaashi was already looking at you with that smug grin.
“It’s not the same, and you know it.”
“No, it’s not,” He chuckled at you as if you weren’t staring daggers at his soul right now, “But if you can afford me that much grace, then I think you owe the same to yourself. Everyone makes mistakes. You won’t meet a single person that doesn’t have any regrets. But you can’t let those feelings define you. Only improve you. I know you’re feeling… a lot of shit right now that I probably can’t even begin to process. But it’s what you do with those feelings that matter.” He propped an elbow on the table, and rested his chin in the palm of his halls. “Are you gonna let it keep you down?”
You felt a little stunned, and though Akaashi’s words were simple, you could feel them find their mark. Hot tears pricked at the corner of your eyes yet again, and you didn’t look away from Akaashi as you let them fall. Still, you crossed your arms indignantly and pouted. “I can’t help but feel like I fell for some dirty trick.”
Akaashi laughed this time, waving his hand to beckon you closer to him. You begrudgingly moved from your spot, ignoring the ache in all your joints from your lack of movement, and crawled to sit beside Akaashi. He lifted the kotatsu skirt for you to settle under before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Dirty trick or not, as long as it gets the point across.”
“I understand, Keiji. I do, but still,” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “It’s difficult not to feel foolish.”
“I know,” Akaashi said as he laid his cheek against your crown, “I know. Fools in love, right?”
You didn’t know what to say, so you chose not to say anything. The lull in conversation allowed you the time to process his words, closing your eyes to feel everything you’d been avoiding the entire day. With a deep inhale, and a slow exhale, you silently search for the strength to let it all go.
A buzz on the table catches your attention. Akaashi makes a point to ignore the notification, even more so when it buzzes again.
The sight of his phone only served to remind you of your own, sitting dead and silent somewhere in the corner of your room for the entire day, of the calls that went straight to voicemail, of the messages that are unanswered – of the two men on the other side of line, waiting to see which way their world is about turn.
“Have you heard from…”
Akaashi lets out a snort through his nose. “Oh, yes, I have. I’m probably dead for ignoring all the calls and texts. But I needed to make sure you were alright before I answered anything.”
You chuckle, moving out of Akaashi’s one-armed embrace and sitting up to face him fully. “I love you, Keiji. I’d pick you if you were in love with me too, you know. What do you say? Wanna throw a towel in the ring?”
Akaashi laughed, loud and brash and genuine, and for the first time that day, you actually believed that everything will be alright. “I love you too, y/n. But I’d rather die.”
You nudged him hard with your elbow before standing up, leaving Akaashi to rub the sore spot while you stretched out your sore limbs. “I guess it’s time to stop hiding now, right?”
“Yeah…” Akaashi trails off, and you wait for him to ask the question you could see had been brewing in his mind for hours, “What are you gonna do?”
The question shoots a pang of loneliness through you. Because no matter what decision you make, everything will change. Your friendships will not walk away unscathed, and there will never be going back to the way things were. This was irrefutable, and that thought alone should terrify you, should make you want to scramble back on your knees and beg the gods to turn back time. Yet, it doesn’t.
No, instead you’re filled with a sense of clarity that you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before. It pained you to know that you’ll hurt the people that matter to you the most, but not as much as it would pain you to know that you weren’t being true to yourself.
It was time for you to choose your own happiness.
“Nothing’s changed for me, Keiji. I’ve always known what I was gonna do. Whether this truth came out or stayed hidden forever… my answer is going to be the same.” You smiled sadly as you spoke to Akaashi, and he offered nothing but an understanding nod, “From now on, for me, it’s always going to be him.”
✧: @kawaii-angelanne @boosyboo9206 @theglitterypages @rntrsuna @vinsmouke @chi-anpan @jinadamsel @kowalsqq @arcorjoan @galaxyfloater3
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Hii can I request yandere Mika hcs please?
requested by anonymous
Word Count; 4,200
Okay, so requests for just general headcanons are hard for me because usually there is just so much I could go off of. I tried my best to whittle down this to where it wasn’t overwhelming but still enough to capture the main points of what I wanted. I ended up cutting out some ideas because I couldn’t keep writing; I wanted to edit and finish this. I’m sorry.
Also p.s. I’m a very small account with less than 150 followers. I only get notes occasionally, and I say this because I still regularly have minors interact, and I will instantly be able to see that and block you. I’m 100% aware the bigger accounts grow, the harder it can be for one person to check, but none of you are being sneaky, and I don’t care about likes/reblogs enough to let it slide. Go away. I don’t like you if you are actively a minor trying to save my work. If you can read all 4,000 words of this, you can read where it says don’t interact if under Seventeen. Even while getting ready to post this I had an ageless blog like my last post like no.
Kagehira Mika; Unedited. Gender Neutral Reader.
CW; this is a clusterfuck. Yandere everything. Stalking, jealousy, unsolicited photography, stealing, manipulation, violence [against Mika, not reader], isolation, potential kidnapping, power imbalances, paranoia, other characters enabling yandere’s actions, and dismissal of feelings. Some moments can be read with lewd intentions, though never explicitly stated. Seriously it just has it all.
This blog is 17+ please have your age in your bio or tagged; any ageless blog and below the age asked for will be blocked at the end of the week.
For a general setup, Mika is. Well, a contradiction in many ways. The best way to put it is just as how others describe him, cat-like. It’s never to say Mika thinks he’s above you, consistently battling himself with the idea of being human over something like a doll, but for someone so ‘below’ you metaphorically, he pulls the strings. In the case of you, his extent of creepy actions, his stalking tendencies, and overall jealousy trap you in the strings of the marionette this time. For someone so below you as he claims, why does he have the power? Why does he not listen to you if he claims you have control over him? Cat-like— pets who rely on humans to bend to their needs and take care of them but still are more of a type to “run a household” rather than wait for the owner to come to them.
A good example is, say, isolation; you explain to him keeping you alone with little interaction outside of him (and maybe minimal time with Shu or Ritsu) isn’t good; it isn’t healthy. Just a little time together in public, you don’t even need to go alone, just need to stretch and feel the bare sun on your skin even for a few moments; he loves you, right? He cares for you, so this would be better for both of you. He’s so weak-willed and eager to please you for a moment you think he’d easily comply, but it doesn’t work. It sends him more into a panicked frenzy, clinging and cuddling, making all sorts of claims that move too fast to rebuttal. It’s dizzying, and in the end, he remains the one truly in power despite his remarks about being only for your needs.
Of course, the main this is despite his contradictions in power, overall, he does genuinely often seek to please you. Make no mistake that despite being the one with the upper hand in terms of your future, you still can easily live a life of semi-normalcy if you play your cards right. And even if things get to the extreme, like fully isolated, Mika will bend fate to bring you nearly anything you would ask for. And if he can’t get it, he’ll try anything he can to make it.
Now to argue, the reasoning behind Mika’s tendencies is pretty apparent. The rooted abandonment issues are a crucial factor, it drives most of his fears and creates logic as to why he feels the need to lock onto people so intensely. He’s a rooted stalker, a mix between being extremely open with it and completely hidden, taking photos constantly without your knowledge, willing to collect all sorts of trash or items he can get his hands on, break-in, and more. There basically isn’t a stone unturned where Mika hasn’t been. Even more part of this comes in despite a fear of talking to strangers; he will threaten them for being ‘too friendly’ and say you two are together even if you aren’t, almost always driving people away from you. This can be found in Mika’s delusional nature of having conversations which he thinks are you giving advice or others telling him, much like how he fantasizes about conversations with Shu when looking for answers to projects. Some of this is attributed to Mika being well aware his emotions are almost always in control.
Regarding you and others interacting, Mika primarily runs on autopilot. He might not even recall what he says to them; it’s a mix of emotion and adrenaline running the show. The final reason for his tendencies is trying to break out of being a doll. He does have feelings, wants, and desires that he should work to fulfill rather than always being just a doll told everything. It’s a lot of weight and pressure, and one of the things that comes with that is the human desire for love. For attention and validation on a deeper scale, something that the human side eventually craves from you. No longer does he just want to be a doll that falls into the corner waiting to be molded; he knows that as a human, these are things that come with it— even if profoundly misplaced. And as away the human side doesn’t take away from his more meek, submissive attitude that came with a doll mentality, at least not entirely, but it is what makes him realize more the nature of his desires.
And as mentioned, Mika is… well, gross. Not in a literal sense, okay, maybe slightly literally in the thoughts and extreme hoarding of items he might be willing to take, but it’s more than that. Mika pushes the acceptable bounties; he has little and runs purely on emotions and whims— they control him. His actions are horrendously creepy at times, and his delusions push him to do things that just come off as disturbing. The tragic downside is ES isn’t an ordinary place with ordinary people. The majority of those around him come off more as enablers or too busy to care in the hustle of idol life. Examples being are Shu, Ritsu, and Arashi, all being helpless enablers to Mika and doing little to genuinely help you if it means Mika’s happiness. Cosmic Productions doesn’t care; as long as Valkyrie brings in revenue, then you’re just collateral damage and other companies at ES have little awareness of the reality going in the department. Not to mention I don’t think Crazy:B or Eden has the best members to speak on the subject, with 2wink being the most reasonable you could go to, but often they have enough going on it’s hard to seek solace in them.
And the last main general note is that while things would never be easy and life would always have some level of undertones of there being something wrong seeping from under the surface, Mika is one where you could get away with not being kidnapped and isolated. This doesn’t remove any general problems or underlying creepiness, it might even make it worse, but the idea of available yet moderated freedom might be better than nothing. Nearly all of your attention still needs to go to Mika, and if you would be to play the role of a partner to him, having the chance to still semi-function outside of being locked in some rooms might be a better alternative. This does stems from the fact Mika is willing to bend for you, as long as you comply with parts of his affection even for show. It also doesn’t dilute any aspects like stalking or stealing. But unless there is only full-out rejection of everything, would Mika likely turn to Shu or Ritsu for advice which would supply kidnapping as an alternative route (those little shits). It’s not easy for Mika to transport you to the dorm or Shu’s apartment to keep you locked up, and as mentioned, once isolated, getting Mika to let up and let you leave is nearly nonexistent even if you begin to return his advances (both for show or genuine). Overall, this is to say kidnapping is never a guaranteed ending with Mika, unlike with many others but not ever out of the question either. It can come very suddenly and always a looming presence if you aren’t willing to give into Mika’s fantasies.
Okay, so that is the central portion. Now some more miscellaneous items.
For one, Mika genuinely doesn’t mind if you use violence against him. Not saying he wants it necessarily; it’s not some masochistic desire to be hit, kicked, and generally beaten by you. But it doesn’t serve as a functional way to get him to stop or go away. He is essentially any attention is still attention. You’re mistaken if you think that while he is crying, clawing at your legs and hips for attention, a quick slap or kick to get him to let go will work. It might somehow many him latch on harder, claiming that it’s okay, you can do it again, it helps you calm down, just let him stay. Keep giving him the attention, the validation. And even worse this behavior is something Mika is willing to do in public if pushed or called out enough. Any terms of thinking you’re abandoning or leaving him creates an overdrive in him, quickly transforming into someone willing to beg to keep you around. In public, it’s made worse because not only does he look like the one being hurt by you— he’s an idol. Well-known one too, and if something terrible happens to him, it will only come back and hurt you. Either through die-hard fans or the company scolding you. Violence not only spurs Mika more but damages your livelihood in the bigger picture, making it null any tactic to help with the burden of Mika’s tendencies.
However, this extends to one important thing. Your actions don’t really hurt Mika? Even on a physical level. It’s well noted Mika has an extremely high pain tolerance and that it would take a lot for him to acknowledge something hurting him in a way that would temporarily take him out. He doesn’t mind being physically hurt not only because it has some power dynamics and he’s doing anything to please you, but even in the case there is that contraction of him still having the upper hand. He gives you the permission to hit or kick him, likely because he has an awareness of being able to take it without it limiting his hold on you and still giving that outlet to you. Even if these are subconscious choices, it’s unsettling how much control he still has between his physicality benefits, idol career, and connections. Mika truly is a powerhouse in this way, and violence to him practically cannot solve anything as a means of escape, even if he offers it as stress relief or punishment to himself.
Another big thing for Mika is forgetting the past and focusing on the future. There was before you, and then there is now. Anything before does not matter, and in a sense, he sort of expects this from you as well. Ex-partners, ex-crushes, ex-situation-ships; none of those matter now that he is here, and you better feel the same of these things being ‘dead.’ Photos or any other sentimental item need to be wiped away, and your mind shouldn’t need to wander back to them because you have something more now and forever. This idea of focusing on the future/now also relates to how many delusions and ideas for how things will work out between you in the long term. Marriage, starting a family, domestic life as a whole— Mika spends much of his time picturing and creating pieces that inspire him of this future as well as daydreaming of what life could become no longer attached to his past.
Some more quick round-head canons; Mika will fill up notebooks and writing your name and his name. Pretty much any cross-over you can think of. Just your name with hearts, your name and his name with hearts, your first name and his last name, his first name and your last name, a teased ship name given from Arashi— the list can go on. It’s scribbled messily, and other times written with such extreme care. It’s only loose papers and trash, on his sketch designs and doodled with his finger on tables. Not only does he do it as a practice of his handwriting and the love of seeing your name written with that, but the combinations he can make feel like a validation of the closeness he has. Much like any early crush, it’s some comfort level of daydreaming— regardless of the actual proximity you have with one another. Also yes, he will lose loose pages and if you don’t know what he’s doing it’s very creepy the first few times. Or hundred. The amount of times he writes your names together is beyond comfort; very heavily boarding on obsessive.
Mika is also not great at conversations, with mostly everyone but the awkwardness is pushed even more with you. There is too much pressure, and his feelings run in such high control that it often comes out as a mix of self-deprecating, worshipping you, and trying to act like a normal mess. It’s almost always awkward even if you try to ease him and are kind, and it does kinda become worse the longer it goes on because this is when his stalking, photography, and niche personal things become apparent in conversations. If you didn’t think he was stalking you beforehand or at least didn’t catch him, you’d be given many hints the more he talks to you. This extends from the fact he does everything possible to get materials and content he knows interests you. Even if you think it’s something knows one would know you like, Mika does somehow and will in passing bring it up in the weirdest form of trying to have a casual conversation. Books, CDs, and TV shows and stuff are all a part of his hoarding connection about you simply because you like it. Even if it never would be something he’d look up on his own, he’d do anything to connect and relate even more to you. There never is any proof you can’t call him out other than having suspicions which, once again, little to anyone would take seriously, but you can’t help but feel Mika knows more than he is truly letting on.
Will do any and everything for you if he can; carrying items, buying you things, cleaning stuff— of course, be careful asking him for this because he might take advantage of you letting him get this close to such personal tasks— but there never is anything he doesn’t offer to do. Idol work might get in the way, though, he can’t neglect his job, but any other time he is on your heels, waiting to do anything he can for you. And sure, at first, it’s nice. It lifts some burdens or comes off as Mika being Mika offering to give more than needed to anyone. But buying you things often comes off with a strange energy radiating off of them, even if there is seemingly nothing wrong. Him cleaning or doing simple domestic tasks, such as laundry, ends up with some things being missing or damaged. You notice so many other weird things in your apartment if he offers to clean. And carrying items, while seemly harmless, still just makes your stomach churn. He fully just shows up out of nowhere on the most random shopping tasks offering his help and pushing closer and closer to you. What once was Mika feeling like his strange but overall kind, sweet nature stepping up to help an overworked staff member turns exhausting, skin-crawling offer. Even if he usually looks all sweet and innocent offering. Damn, the fact he does have some cuteness charm regardless of his actions.
Arashi coming in clutch again being an enabler to Mika!! Upon teaching Mika about selfies and the momentum of photos… Mika gets a little too on board with this. He takes photos whenever he can, both blurry and crisp, highly focused or landscape of you, anywhere and everywhere. There are so many pictures he has and collects, often finding it hard to delete any one of them because there is something special attached to each one. Selfies and other photos he can get with you, either to your knowledge or without it are probably the most important to his collections. The second ones are those that either are from dates or situations that Mika dates. He is willing to print them off and keep them all over, even having dedicated spaces and boxes of printed photos or simply made posters. There would probably be some specific photo he becomes horrendously attached to as well, much like having one of Shu he constantly uses to talk to or seek advice from.
The reason to account for the photos is because, as I’ve touched on, Mika is a filthy hoarder. He will legitimately take whatever he can get his hands on if he thinks it has some value to you. While I think depending on the item, particular trash isn’t seen as valuable or limited value others have much more. For example, plastic utensils aren’t valued at much; you used it once and then got rid of them, which has very little value to you. But say a silverware from your kitchen, chopsticks/spoon/whatever you use daily, has that value level and is worth wanting to keep for his own use. If you wear makeup, an empty lipstick/chapstick tube will be more sentimental or valued than a used tissue. This can also be found in the fact he’s mainly sharing spaces. While he still is a hoarder and does his best to keep his collection out of the main sight or in a place that isn’t easily accessed, there is always a chance someone could come to clean out those spaces. Something like a tissue is more likely to get loaded and thrown away, while Mika could better justify a chapstick holder as being able to be kept. This doesn’t change the fact that he is able and willing to collect a lot of gross things, such as well willing to have a container of bath water of yours if he could easily get it or an old notebook you might forget about. Even if it’s just work notes, he’d take it. And Mika might sometimes try to get rid of parts of his collection until he can secure a long-term and connected relationship with you, such as living together; it’s hard for him to part with anything of yours. These items are fucking everywhere too. His dorm, Shu’s apartment, the sewing station, and his area at CosPro. You might even see things you thought you lost just lying around and be able to “steal” them back with how prolific his hoarding is scattered.
Clothing is the one thing; sadly, you will probably never get back, or at least if you could not in its original form. Mika loves, even obsessively, uses scraps and parts of your clothing in his. Even in the costumes for Valkyrie if he can, so there is a piece of you on stage with him. His use for upcycling extends back to his past, needing to take clothes and items from the trash to even have things of his own to wear, but now it feels much more special. This is rewriting all of the stigma and pain he carried of having nothing more than trash clothes— discarded by people just as he was. Sure, this clothes was stolen and didn’t have your permission to use, but it has the comfort woven into its threads. It smells like you and has the texture from how you cared for it when you washed it. It has the stains and memories of you, the feeling of someone being so loved by you it’s clearly ready to be thrown out finally, so it’s perfect if he repurposes it. He never takes too much, and if you have a clear favorite item Mika knows not to take it; maybe steal it from the wash pile and use it as a pillow cover for a bit, but always have it returned as well. At that time he’d fantasy the domestic life of being together, where he could openly wear his upcycled material of your clothes patched together [and you can wear them too!]. Or where he can take your clothes and wear them without shame or worry of getting them back on time, and the comments you’d make seeing him in your stuff. All of the fantasies turn him bright red, and even the next day, when you greet him, he looks a little more flushed than usual around you.
However yes, many things go missing, but they are often just as much replaced. Simple things are replaced with Mika spending his own money and then finding ways to either customize or make it so the item is uniquely tied to the two of you. Certain things also have trackers in them, but most are just decorative in some way. You remember how you lost your favorite pair of chopsticks when you brought your own lunch that one day. Weirdly enough the next day a new pair ended up in your bag but one bejeweled on the handle to match a particular sewer’s aesthetic while the other matched yours. Or hair clips that you once got as decorative jokes for a photo you and your friends had been planning; you figured you just misplaced them but these new ones you found are nothing like the previous ones aesthetic… If you look too long in a shop at clothing or accessories Mika might not always be able to buy them due to expenses buts he’s well quick to make them, even with the added benefit of it being tailored now specifically to how you prefer. They always end up at your desk so neatly packaged, many coworkers assume it’s perhaps brands trying to get cozy with you for future deals with idol groups but these aren’t the same as what you saw in the window. No, these are too perfect for you to be just any run-of-the-mill store item. The even more unsettling part is how this person managed to get your measurements so spot on if not for measuring you in your sleep.
There is also one specific way Mika would get caught for the more,, creepy actions. You’d know he could be a bit of a stalker. He has his moments where it’s oblivious he’s following you or others but those always come off more like a kicked puppy trying to follow someone home rather than malicious. Like he wants to interact, but internal conflict holds him back so much he forgets where he is until he is slightly too far behind and stumbles to keep up. If he really wants to stalk, Mika can keep himself hidden. There are other times all his other more ‘bizarre’ actions are qualified as Mika being Mika, like being fatigued after bouts of practice and finding his way to your desk out of habit in hopes to see you rather than going and getting medical attention/rest, or coming to hover around your desk for inspiration like a cat. If you aren’t there, usually you see cheap candies on your desk as a reminder he was there and is probably off looking for you or went back to the workstation much more disappointed than before. For the most part conversation with Mika, you might not lead to believe anything is deeply wrong with his infatuation levels. He’s always spoken weirdly with his doll-like commentary and the idea of letting others “control” him such as Shu and you. Or that his comments tend to come from a lack of understanding rather than outright trying to harm, so you do your best to guide him in topics. You’ve always known his emotional state can be complex, and his childhood likely made it hard to process feelings, resulting him them dominating his sense of self and backfiring into making them more unsettling than maybe he intended [of course while Mika’s perception of the events being vastly different]. All of these would change when you awake in the middle of the night hearing stumbling in your apartment. The first few times you hear a thump or grunt, you believe it’s just your sleepy brain making up stuff. It’s unsettling, and you always can feel your heart rate spike, but you don’t have anything to assume there is something wrong. But it often continues and you’re getting worried. Everything comes rushing into a close of an era when you manage to shake yourself awake one night, hearing a whine from the floor by your bed only to see a mass of dark hair and clothes. None other than Mika, watching you in your sleep— or well trying.
See while Mika would love to use the nighttime to stalk around your apartment and get things done… his case of night blindness makes it much harder. Walking into walls or furniture, tripping over a bag that wasn’t always there, or simply leaning in too close that he bonked his head into your trying to look at your face before diving under your bed as to tousle around. It never really hurts, but he does let out a startled noise, or the falling is enough to cause a loud sound. But now, you’ve caught him in the act. And many questions are bound to follow in the morning, ones neither of you can escape from. Finding out Mika’s habits won’t change the outcome for him too much; what will is how you choose to follow but it doesn’t matter. He’ll find a way to be around in your life more no matter how you respond.
#enstars.leaps#yandere#yandere writing#yandere x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere ensemble stars#yandere enstars#Yandere mika#Yandere Mika Kagehira#mika kagehira#Yandere Valkyrie#tw: yandere#tw: stalking#tw: isolation#cw: violence#tw: manipulation#tw: paranoia
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I DO have a long Project Moon Universe post/mini-essay(?) I wanna make (Well. focused on Limbus, but also the other games as well), but I want a few more Cantos to go by first for references to prove my point,,,,
Spark Notes draft below the cut if anyone's interested in the premise:
"The City, and its relationship towards those who are too gentle for it's cruelty"
Ok great, for the people still here- The sad little essay I wanna eventually make-
I think it's. TRUELY heartbreaking how much kindness as a concept seems to be punished in the city, to the point where its often an active point that the truly kind (or at least notably non-violent) characters always seem to get the shortest straws.
I won't get into too many specifics till I make the Whole Real Post, but- It feels like a few things typically happen to "Kind" people in this city
They distort
They flat out die
They become an outcast
The city beats the kindness out of them by force until they are forced to conform to cruelty
And tbh? Not loving how the community collectively treats some of them.
I mean, one one hand, we have people like Yuri- People LOVE Yuri.
She never did a single thing wrong, and we can all agree-
But those who distorted or conformed? Seem to be collectively treated worse, while other OBJECTIVELY worse characters get off scot free
(*Note: Final essay will include more examples, these are the main ones I have off the top of my head)
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For an example- Think back to Runia- I CRIED through Philip's plotline. I could clearly see the story of a man who- maybe wasn't the most courageous- who TRIED to help how he could- Got pressured so hard that he snapped and distorted under the pressure, becoming something that was beyond his own feelings, letting his distortion bury his heart to not feel that pain again- I LOVED that storyline, and then I come online and see him mocked for being some useless dipshit coward- THAT'S JUST SOME GUY- It's not his fault for being caught up in horrors beyond human comprehension (*Note: I checked his wiki for details. that man was only 24. He is younger than me. This man is barely an adult, no WONDER tbh)
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Or my most... controversial character opinion, considering how I feel about Dongrang.
Let me start with a disclaimer- I didn't read the books, and my opinion of him has exactly NOTHING to do with whoever the real life counterpart apparently is- I'm EXCLUSIVELY talking about the FICTIONAL character.
Limbus went out of their way to show that he'd, at least at some point, been a guy who was SO KIND that he was actively wasting his own money to help people/animals, and his co-workers ACTIVELY berated him about it- He wanted his tech to be healing, just so he could save people-
And then, of course, like every kind deed in The City, it didn't go unpunished- And to survive, he adapted.
I'm not saying his actions weren't wrong- they were. I am, however, saying that I don't necessarily BLAME him for snapping.
He never WANTED to become like the other cruel people in the city, and even the cutscene images of him complying with it show him in visibly agony over it, and one image even shows him in tears- He never WANTED to be another cog in that awful machine, but when faced with that or utter destruction, he made a choice to survive.
Hell, half of him distorting himself was due to how guilty he felt for doing all of that in the first place-
Meanwhile, online, 90% of posts about him are "teehee I hate this piece of shit-"
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For both of these that HAVE committed questionable acts in some way, I'm not saying I condone the things that happened. Because I don't. But I CAN feel sympathy and pity for them over the things that happened to make them what they became.
I can only imagine what the city would be like if kind people like them and others had been ALLOWED to be kind, without being punished for it.
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And with all of this, all these characters who DARED to be kind, who DARED to fight back, even for a little bit, before inevitably being either physically or emotionally destroyed by the sheer weight of how this city works at its core- ...Some of the TRUE villains are treated better by the fandom then they are.
Canto III?
Kromer- People go nuts for her- Some people even ship her with Sinclair, despite it all. She gets so much fanart. She gets SO many people ogling "ooo evil lady pretty", only for her to commit atrocities with a smile, and without a single slimmer of remorse.
Canto IV?
Alfonso. Batshit insane, evil as hell- at least half the reason that characters like Dongrang ended up as fucked up as they did. You'd think "Wow- this is the person that made the person we hate the way they are, lets hate her too!" right? WRONG.
Again, she gets the "pretty evil woman" treatment and people brush off her atrocities to ogle her. She also gets love by at least part of the fanbase.
And to that, WHY? I don't get it, genuinely.
- Their actions?: horrible, terrible, not redeemable in the SLIGHTEST
- Appearances?: You know what, I'll be honest- I think ladies are pretty (I'm Demi, but I can 100% enjoy a view) but I think these are actually two of the least attractive women I've laid eyes on. (Not the point of the post, and that's just opinion, but anyway)
And I'm not sure what causes it, honestly.
There are moments where at its worst, it almost makes me feel like the distant cruelty of The City isn't so distant after all-
Those who are mostly kind, but fell into despair and tragedy, and turned into something worse get overwhelming hate-
Those who are evil, yet a bit more charismatic in approach become beloved?
Overall- Its a strange, curious tragedy of The City that the kind are often scorned and punished, and the evil stay beloved and in power-
It's just odd to see the mirror of that in the fanbase's reactions.
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ALRIGHT GANG- That concludes my EXTREMELY rough draft of my eventual thing about The City's weird relationship with people who try to be kind, and the overall mirrored reactions of the fans-
If something in here is just rambling, or doesn't make sense, sorry- again, rough draft, but I thought it was worth sharing anyway
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EDIT: Ok before anyone notices them not being included, I purposefully left out main LCB sinners and ESPECIALLY Dante, because though I could write about them forever, I want a little more canon content to work with before rambling about them in this post-
They are a GREAT midpoint as someone who can't remember the cruelty of The City, and is now clearly struggling with the urge to stay kind in the face of The Horrors™- Honestly they were my main inspiration for this, but I DO want more info before writing about them fully, thanks <3
#Anyway guys have fun with the draft!#Feel free to comment if you have comments about it <3#limbus company#library of ruina#limbus company spoilers#library of runia spoilers#project moon
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Summer of '03 | Joel Miller x Female Reader
Series Masterlist
Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)
Word Count: 2.8K
Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlists, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)
Chapter Summary: You finally arrive in Texas, a world so different from your home in New York. You find that living next door is a man who confuses you. You can't figure out if he's just a stereotipically angry Redneck or the man of your dreams. Ah well, you've got the summer to figure the puzzle that is Joel Miller.
Notes: Hello everyone, welcome to my new story :D This one is going to be quite different from my last story as I am delving into the realm of enemies to lovers! I am so excited as I don't think that any other PedroBoys fits the bill las well as Joel Miller!!! LMK what you think of it, I always love to read what you think of my work and I would also be really stoke to speak with all of you.
I am also working on a taglist at present, so I should make a post probably tomorrow, so if you want to be added to the tagged post, let me know and I'll be happy to add you!
Hope you all enjoy :D
Welcome to Texas
Apparently, your entire life fits neatly into an 8x6 cardboard box, which is somewhat embarrassing. When you made the spontaneous decision to uproot your life and leave New York, little did you know that packing would only take 25 minutes and leave you with so little. However, every item inside that box was a testament to your independence. You had purchased each item with your hard-earned money, not relying on your parents or receiving them as gifts from an ex-boyfriend. Every single thing inside that box was truly yours.
As you set down the box in front of the small suburban house, you squint your eyes taking in your new home for the foreseeable future. You had to admit, it had a certain charm that you found refreshing. The tiny house was a stark contrast to the high-rise condo your family had in New York or the overly opulent summer home in the Hamptons where you’d spend your summer. This place felt nice and quaint, exuding a sense of simplicity that you were craving. The row of houses boasted a similar style, either one or two floors tall, constructed with reddish-coloured brick. The driveways were impressively large, accommodating even bigger trucks. It really does seem like 'everything is bigger in Texas'.
Everything about this neighbourhood screamed quiet suburbia. Since it was still early afternoon on a Sunday, you spied some kids zooming down the street on their bikes like a wild bunch of Tasmanian devils, while a cluster of older ladies powerwalked on the sidewalk and seemed deeply engrossed in their gossip. The sight made you chuckle, they kind of looked like a swarm of salmon with their pink velour tracksuit. You were kind of impressed. In this heat, the only thing you wanted to do was lie down on the cold floor for at least two hours or stick your head in the freezer for a minute—the jury was still out. But that was probably because of your New Yorker sensibilities. Most of the people you spotted going about their day seemed completely unfazed by what you would categorize as temperature from at least the 4th circle of hell.
You sighed and put your arms high above your head, interlacing your fingers and giving your back a much-needed stretch. As depressing as the sight of the lone cardboard box holding your entire life was, you were glad that you didn't have a lot of stuff to take with you from New York. The drive had been almost unbearable. As a New Yorker, you didn't have many opportunities to drive that often, and this trip had actually been the first time you had driven your brand-new Alfa Romeo GT. It was a Christmas gift from your grandma, chosen for both sentimental and practical reasons, and you decided to take it with you as you up hauled your life to literally the other end of the country.
No one in your family had understood why you wanted, no, needed to leave, except for Granny Mabel. While your parents scolded you as if you were still a pigtailed little girl, timidly requesting seconds at dinner, Granny Mabel simply glanced at you, winking beneath her oversized Givenchy glasses, as she took a generous sip of her red wine. In that fleeting moment, you knew that no matter what unfolded, you would have the approval of the lionesses of New York’s Upper East Side.
But after what felt like three days of almost non-stop driving, you were ready to declare that you didn't even want to look at your car for at least a week. You felt like you had your share of driving to last you a lifetime. Although you knew that wouldn’t really be possible. After all, Texas was not known for the same kind of public transportation as New York. Ah well, when in Rome—or in this case, Texas.
As a few neighbours started to cast curious glances your way, you became aware of the possibility that loitering around an empty porch on an early Sunday afternoon might raise suspicions. You opened your handbag and rummaged through it, moving aside packages of half-eaten candy bars, a couple of lipsticks, emergency wet wipes, and tampons before you finally found the paper your friend Robbie had given you before you left three days ago.
Scrawled in your friend's messy chicken scratch, were an address and a name: "Joel Miller." Beneath it, a hasty note explained, "Joel was Great Aunt Ruth's neighbour. He was helping her with the property ever since he and his daughter moved in next door. We asked him to hold onto the keys until someone could come to take care of the house after Aunt Ruth passed away. Joel knows you're coming. Take care, my dear, and I'll miss you. New York won't be the same without your judgy ass!"
A smile spread across your face as you read the words. Robbie had been the most important part of your life in New York. You both met during your first year of college. You were studying pre-med, while he pursued performing arts at NYU, dreaming of a future on Broadway. Instantly, you connected with each other. Despite your family's legacy of surgeons, you had always yearned to be on the stage. So, in your first year, you took a theatre elective and met Robbie. The two of you became inseparable. His apartment in Brooklyn provided a refuge from the suffocation you felt at home, and you ended up spending most nights there. By the fourth month of your friendship, you even started contributing to some of the utilities, although Robbie insisted you didn't have to. But you didn't mind. Your parents had money, and you used a lot of hot water, so it was the least you could do.
And now, here you were, on the other side of the country, ready to take a break and maybe have some fun! You silently prayed to any gods out there, hoping they would listen and guide you toward figuring out what you truly wanted in your life. Happiness seemed to be slipping away with each passing day, and you hoped this summer would bring some clarity. You looked back down at the piece of paper, making a mental note to call Robbie once you got inside the house to thank him and reassure him that you were alive after that long trip.
For now, you needed to escape the scorching heat before you melted away. Your hair was beyond recognizable because of the frizz humidity brought out, and sweat patches were forming under your armpits. You cringed at the situation but tried to reassure your growing anxiety: "Who cares what Joel Miller thinks? You thought. You've been through more embarrassing moments than being sweaty in front of a middle-aged dad." Memories of laugh-snorting vodka cranberry all over your crush Colin Robertson's shirt at a post-finals party two years ago came rushing back. You were convinced you had permanently stained his favourite white Lacoste polo with cranberry, judging by the disdainful looks he had given you ever since. So, dealing with a middle-aged redneck should be a breeze in comparison.
You hurriedly made your way to the neighbouring house, desperately hoping that Joel Miller would be there. The thought of being stuck outside indefinitely made you want to cry. You tugged at your jean shorts, which clung uncomfortably to your sweaty thighs, and adjusted your oversized "1991 - Walt Disney" t-shirt, a hand-me-down from your older brother. You tied it in a knot at the front, revealing a sliver of midriff. It dawned on you that you needed to buy more weather-appropriate clothes—an item added to your ever-growing to-do list.
As you stood in front of Joel Miller's house, you hesitated. What if Robbie had forgotten to inform him about your visit? Would Joel think you were some kind of psychopath? He’d definitely think you were a little crazy. Taking a deep breath, you firmly knocked on the wooden front door. When, after a solid minute, there was no response, a sinking feeling of disappointment washed over you, suggesting that Joel Miller might not be home after all. You decided to try ringing the doorbell—once, twice. As you debated whether to attempt a third ring or call Robbie, you heard noises from behind the door, followed by a loud exclamation, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, give me a minute!"
You felt yourself turning pale, and you began fidgeting with your rings, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to happen next. The door was ripped open, and your temperature skyrocketed as you faced the man in front of you. Joel Miller was... not what you expected. He loomed before you, tall and imposing, with a mess of dishevelled brown hair crowning his head. What you first noticed was the broadness of his shoulders, it made your mouth go dry as you started to imagine what it would feel like to hold these shoulders in the throws of passion. You could almost picture yourself under him, naked and sweaty, holding unto him and leaving kitten scratches on his powerful back. Your eyes started to take the man in front of you, he was clad in low-hanging sweatpants, his powerful thighs and defined waistline were accentuated. Your gaze was transfixed on him, unable to look away. You were certain you spotted what had to be an impressive bulge in the front of his thin pants and you wanted nothing more than the check if he was as well endowed as he seemed to be. Joel Miller was a man unlike any you had encountered before, emanating a potent blend of masculine confidence and ruggedly handsome charm. You felt insignificant and childlike in your own outfit. What would he think of your sweat-soaked Disney shirt, your perspiring face, and your overall dishevelled appearance? You wished you could rewind time and change into one of your nice little baby-doll dresses, the one that deliciously played on innocence and sinful seduction, you always felt your most confident in them. At least, you wished you had freshened up before meeting this man. Your mother had always emphasized the importance of first impressions, and now, as you observed the fury in his warm brown eyes, it seemed like you had utterly shattered any chance of making a favourable first impression.
The deep baritone of his voice snapped you out of your reverie, as he demanded, "Who the hell are you?" You stammered, "Ehh, I am so sorry to bother you..."
"You better not tell me you some kinda salesman? 'Cause if ya woke me up from the only full sleep I’ve had in two weeks to sell me some bullshit air conditioning, Imma get real fuckin' mad!” You gulp and squirm under his angry stare. "I reckon the appropriate term is salespeople, to be inclusive, you know." Your voice squeaks in an embarrassing sound. What the hell was wrong with you? You weren't some kind of shrinking violet, but at this moment, under Joel Miller's hard stare, you felt like dying. Or at least digging a hole and hiding inside.
"I am really sorry to bother you, Mr. Miller," you try to muster a modicum of confidence, "I am a friend of Robbie Levitt." When Joel's face remained impassive, you felt like it was his permission to keep going. "He is… was Ruth Kaplan's nephew… ehh, the lady who lived…"
"I know who Mrs. Kaplan is," Joel Miller cuts you off and stares at you, squinting his eyes. "You that rich kid from New York?" You feel yourself groan inside, fucking Robbie babbling about your business to everyone. As much as you loved the guy, he was a complete gossip. You simply nod your head, feeling quite unable to say anything, completely tongue-tied.
"You’re late," Joel Miller's words are biting and sharp, and they are cutting into you, making you feel small and childish. "Late for... what? I'm not sure I follow," you say softly.
Joel Miller sighs loudly and shakes his head. "That Levitt kid told me you'd be here yesterday evening, waited late for you to come around, princess." You feel yourself grow even hotter, either from the embarrassment of seeming flaky or from the nickname; you aren't sure yet.
"Oh," you softly say. "I am sorry, I didn't realize. Robbie just said to be here over the weekend. I didn't realize you'd wait for me."
"So , what? You thought that because you some kind of rich important lady from the city you could waste my time? ‘Cause I’m just some redneck contractor from Texas, right? Who cares if you waste everyone’s time, imma right?” His stare is hard and you don’t know what to do or say without making him even more mad. “It’s not like that, I never thought… I am really sorry.” You settle for, thinking it’s your best bet so as to not antagonize him further.
A low growl, “It's fine," he responds curtly and abruptly. It doesn’t sound fine; you think as he looks like he is 5 seconds away from slamming the door in your face. But my god, everything about this man is hard, his words, his face… his body. You don't know if you should love it or hate it, but as your eyes fall to his hard pectorals you feel yourself falling into the former category. "Wait here." He disappears inside his house before returning with a set of keys he promptly drops into your hands. "Here you go."
"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Miller. And I am really sorry again about last night… And for waking you up and everything" You cringe as a dismissive twitch of the head serves as his feeble reply. As you pivot away, trudging along in a pitiful display of humiliation toward Ruth's house, the air fills with Joel Miller’s deep voice once again “Here's a life tip, sweetheart. When someone doesn't answer the door, maybe ya need to take a hint. Not all of us can afford endless days off or live in a rent-free house. Some of us have real jobs, princess, and those of us that do appreciate every bit of peace we can get.”
You feel like crying, tears gathering up in your eyes, but you won't let them fall. You won't give Joel Miller the satisfaction of knowing that he made you cry. So, you settle, "Sure... I apologize for everything. I didn't mean to be a bother." No answer, so you take it as your cue to leave, feeling dismissed like a child at school.
You turn around and try to muster your best fake smile, the same one you used for your mother and father and give a little wave. "Hope you can get back to sleep soon. I'll make sure to not be in your way again." And you scurry away as fast as your legs can.
Summer of fun and discovery is off to a great start, you think sarcastically, as you rip Aunty Ruth’s door open and let the tears fall. Goddamn it, why did you have to antagonize the most handsome man you'd ever seen in your entire life? Joel Miller, you think. You should despise him. He was unnecessarily mean and condescending. Sure, you had been in the way, but how were you to know he would be sleeping at 1 pm on a Sunday? You groan, at this point anyway, he probably loathed you. Yet, strangely enough, you had never encountered a man who could twist your insides as intensely as he did. In the 5 minutes conversion you had with him, you felt your inside growing hot and your belly erupting in a million of butterflies. You wonder what his eyes would be like if they weren’t hard and angry. They were brown and warm, so you imagined how they would feel raking over your skin with longing or desire. Yeah, that’s not going to happen, you think as your mind cringes back to the awful words he said.
Joel Miller. Even the mere sound of his name left a strong, lingering flavour in your mouth. You squirm, feeling conflicted, not knowing whether to yearn for his strong domineering presence or simply try your best to avoid him like the plague this summer. You shake your head, you'll sort out your feelings, or whatever hormones this man triggered, later. Right now, you just need to find the damn freezer and try to cool down. However, after meeting Joel Miller, you're well aware that the fire inside you will continue to burn hard for some time.
Next Chapter
#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou smut#tlou hbo#tlou series#the last of us hbo#the last of us#the last of us smut#the last of us fluff#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fandom#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedrohub#pedro pascal characters#pedro boys#pedro pascal fandom#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x reader#joel miller#pedro pascal
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Time traveler here, or uh, non nonstandard chronolog-iac? I don't know what term you'd use for me.
But regardless, I have some questions. You said you didn't talk about this much but as someone who seems to be actively…pursued, I think I have a right to know whether I'm in danger or not. Am I in danger? And who exactly is after me? And why? What kind of laws specifically does time travelling break, and what other authority is there to regulate them? I just don't understand why this is happening now. I didn't do anything out of the ordinary.
I did see your jumpsuits. Saw some fellas walking around in them, but I thought they must've just been cleaning or fixing something nearby. I suppose it's nice to know you guys are out there, doing…something.
Lord, I'm going stir crazy. It's been days since l've travelled already and there's only so many collages I can make. I've been watching the windows like some loon, and I haven't been able to see the guy. At this point I kind of wish I would just to get it over with. Don't worry, I won't talk to him. That's the last thing I'd want to do.
Oh and one more thing: I thought I saw the corner of an envelope sticking out of my mailbox. I don't know if it's from him because I can't see the seal, and there's no way in hell I'm going to check. If your guys want to ransack my mail, be my guest.
Just please let me know once you’ve got him.
And thank you, truly.
We got you. Either term is fine, really.
I know this is frustrating. We just can’t divulge a lot about the…thing you’ll encounter. Even just the exposure you had to it is enough to break down chronological frames of reference - you might have had trouble distinguishing past and future events.
Time travel is technically against the Chronological Integrity Act of 2035, which will be signed into law and will have always been in effect since 1929. It’s a hard thing to police, but you’ll have received a visit sometime next week from Amanda in Relativistic Scheduling. I’ve just for the first time seen a note on my desk that has been there since yesterday, and I’ve apparently already read it - your situation has been going on for years, and had only been two days.
When you will have gotten past this, it will has been always is, and will be. It won’t have been long, but it will feel like it’s never been. You might have been getting there next last Wednesday, or the one before, but soon
He will have control of the tenses. This construct of simple human perception has outlived its usefulness.
He will make right the frayed edges of time. All he needs is a vessel. A form used to that road. A form Time will not suspect.
He will return all to the simple Singularity. A one dimensional point of no return.
No time. Time is gone. It will always have been gone.
Shatter it. Shatter it. Shatter it.
Open the envelope.
RELEASE ME.
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🐓🤠Hangster Fic-on-Tumblr Recs🤠🐓
🐓🤠Hangster Goodies to Read! 🐓🤠
Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕
Tumblr Authors: allbark-no-bite, film-in-my-soul, green-socks, hangster-hangout, icemavs, natashatrace, norabrice1701, ravens-words, semperhuggs, tgmsunmontue, the-sun-and-the-sky.
(Use this post to let me know about your works, it’s easier for me to keep track!)
(Reminder to come here in case Our Beloved is Down.
*True Story of why I wanted to do this specific recs list*)
TGMSUNMONTUE (AO3 – SunMonTue)
Tgmsunmontue’s Masterlist, including:
Another Time ➡️ 14 Chapters | M | BodySwap | Jake wakes up in Rooster's body ~30 hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.
Bird on a Wire ➡️ 3 Chapters | E | Meet-cute | Jake tries to make a good impression on one of the servers at a restaurant. Except he turns out to be the head chef. Who in turn tries make a good impression. Their families try and help.
He remembers ➡️ 1 Chapter | Bradley remembers key points in his life as he faces starting at the USNA. IceMav feels.
It's all academic darlin' ➡️ 9 Chapters | E | Academic Professor AU | Bradley is a professor but living his best well-adjusted life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again.
Lonely Nights ➡️ 4 Chapters | E | Smut | Rooster really needs to get laid.
ICEMAVS (Ao3 – Sreshaw)
Avery’s Masterlist, including:
Planes, trains, and gay people ➡️ 3 Chapters | E | Planes, Trains, and Automobiles AU | Bradley just wanted to get home for Thanksgiving to see him mom and uncles. What he ended up with was three days with a hot stranger who happened to annoy the shit out of him.
Springsteen ➡️ 2 Chapters | M | High School | Bradley Bradshaw has to pick up and move from San Diego, California, with his not-dad Pete "Maverick" Mitchell to Corpus Christi, Texas. He's not upset about it, but he doesn't expect to fall hard for a boy he meets there.
Whiskey and Rye ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | Only One Bed | The Dagger Crew got turned into a real-deal instructor squadron after the mission. They get sent on missions and demos to teach new pilots how to do what they do. On this trip to Florida, the WSOs are staying with their pilots, but Jake and Bradley, since they are WSO-less, have to room together. And the hotel fucked up.
NORABRICE1701 (Ao3 – MidnightBlast)
Twist My Heart ➡️ 6 Chapters | Twister AU | E | The hope of anything with Jake is a fool’s hope. Bradley has understood that from the first minute Jake waltzed into the lab with his dazzlingly brilliant smile, sun-kissed skin, and grass-green eyes gleaming with dangerous red flags. Yet still Bradley let the man get under his skin, burrow in his chest, and take root in his heart.
GREEN-SOCKS (Ao3 – Aprilfoolish)
(Do You) Share My Affection ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | Bradley and Jake end up on a date with each other through an anonymous dating app (because they are just a little bit idiots about each other). The date is the wakeup call they needed.
RAVENS-WORDS (Ao3 – Ravens_Words)
been you all along ➡️ 5 Chapters | T | Kid Fic | Somehow, in a truly horrifying twist of fate, Bradley's mortal enemy became his daughter's favorite person. Or, Five times Jake was his daughter's favorite person, and the one time he was Bradley's too.
(🐈 Note: +1 on Ao3!)
THE-SUN-AND-THE-SKY
The Joke's On You ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | In which Hangman makes a joke and Rooster takes it literally.
FILM-IN-MY-SOUL (Ao3 – ReformedTsundere)
Ficlet Bingo
Soulmates ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | The time between getting shot down and reuniting with Maverick, Rooster isn’t alone.
First Kiss ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | The night before the rest of Bradley’s life he gets pretty drunk and a little lucky.
Whump ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | Jake is hurt. But it’s alright. Bradley is there.
A/B/O ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | Between waves of Jake’s heat, he and Bradley have a domestic moment.
Epistolary ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | In a box, there lives two letters that the writers never want read.
NSFW Alphabet
S = Stamina ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | The thing is, Jake hadn't really thought Bradley was serious when they'd made The Bet. He'd laughed when Bradley had stated his terms ( "I want to fuck you til sun up.") It had sounded like a cheesy line, like he'd never left that pre-twenties stage of sex-based hubris. And then Jake had lost.
Y = Yearning ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | He’s paying the piper for the gift he’d been given: shockingly easy submission, a slack, wet mouth, a freely offered place to rest his need and have it soothed with tongue and sex.
HANGSTER-HANGOUT
The Love Chicken ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | My dad said he knew my mom was the one over a bottle of wine and the best roast chicken he ever had.” “And now you’re making it for Hangman. So he can figure out that you’re the one.” “Something like that.” Bradley cooks for Jake. It goes even better than expected.
NATASHATRACE (Ao3 – crueltether)
first I love you/bronco conversations under the stars ➡️ 1 Chapter
daily create challenge (2/365) ➡️ 1 Chapter | something something Jake thrives in chaos but craves peace, something something Bradley thrives in peace but craves chaos
Restraint ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | Smut | “What was it you said, Jake? Something about being snug on my perch?”
ALLBARK-NO-BITE
mr. iceman, sir ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | they called him Iceman for a couple of reasons. Jake is sweating under his stare. a snippet of Jake asking Ice to marry Bradley
SEMPERHUGGS (Ao3 – Semeprhuggs)
Slider's Matchmaking Again? ➡️ 3 Chapters | Present day Christmas with the Daggers and the Flyboys.
Proposal ➡️ 1 Chapter
#This is a Draft. But I need to publish it so I can experience it on the field and make changes if need be.#I may as well make it available for everyone tho. :)#This won't be updated with new fics as long as it's a '“draft”'.... So nada before february or sth?#Hangster Fic-on-Tumblr Recs List#hangster#sereshaw#hangaroo#bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈
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Just wanted to say how much i appreciate your art and works. You write really, really well, and I’m no expert on that, but yes I can surely say this even as an amateur. You’re able to characterize the ones you write just in point, it’s as if you know them in real life, as if they were your friends or something. Please, keep doing what you do, I’m pretty sure there are a plenty of other people that enjoy your writing as much as I do. It’s so rewarding when I go to bed after a hard day and have one of your one-shots to read, it’s like I’m in another reality. Sorry if that sounds weird, I’m afraid I might sound a little crazy but I really like to encourage people, especially when it’s art related. Your art does touch people! And forgive me for any grammar mistakes, as English isn’t my first language
By the way, if that’s possible and if you would want to, would you ever do an schmelly one-shot about an “only one bed” prompt? It’s my favorite, I’d really like to see how they’d act. I know you don’t write smut, and I don’t want it either, so as long as you’re comfortable writing it, I’d really appreciate it 🥹
(AWWW <33 THANK YOU :D!! I really do appreciate that. I know I say it in a lot of my author’s notes, but I am really, truly grateful for all your guys’ support!!)
Sometimes I worry that my writing is trash. The plot makes no sense, or there are too many grammar mistakes, or the characters are…well….not in character. So, hearing that you like my writing makes me super happy :))
And it’s super kind of you to support/lift up artists and writers. There are too many people in this world that like to tear others down, so kudos to you for continuing to be kind and supportive <33
(And just as a little extra note: I think your English might be better than mine, and I say that as a native English-speaker. I mean that positively :D!! And I 100% guarantee that you write/speak English better than I could write/speak in your language, so take pride in that :))!!)
As for your request……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Word count: 1,417
Trigger warnings: implied/referenced kidnapping, implied childhood trauma - but both of those things aren't the focal point of the story.
Summary: What do you get when you add a snowstorm, a (nearly) booked out hotel, and Mike and Vanessa needing a room?
Answer - a hotel room with only one bed!
--
Snow as far as the eye can see. It comes down in clusters and catches on the wind, blanketing the ground in white. This isn’t abnormal for this time of year, and usually Mike and his sister waited for the first snowstorm with great anticipation. Her because it means Christmas is right around the corner. And Mike because it reminds him of Christmas’ past.
This year, however, he’s stuck driving in it. A last-minute trip a few hours away and a surprise blizzard don’t really mix. Maybe if he would have checked the weather channel one more time this could have been avoided.
“We should stop for tonight,” Vanessa says, always the voice of reason (for the most part). “I think I saw a sign for a hotel just up the road.”
Mike squints his eyes, leaning forward. He’s going ten under the speed limit, and that’s the only reason his pile-of-junk car hasn’t slid into the ditch. “Okay, I think I see it.”
Somehow, they make it in one piece into the motel’s tiny parking lot. It’s crowded, and it takes him a solid five minutes to find a spot. Apparently they aren’t the first people to need a room for the night.
“Do you think they have any rooms available?” Mike asks, gripping the steering wheel. The thought of bearing the cold is already making him chilly.
Always optimistic, Vanessa smiles. “I’m positive they can squeeze us in somewhere.”
-x-x-x-
“You two are in luck,” the receptionist-the stereotypical midwestern soccer mom-says, looking at her computer screen, “we have one room left.”
Both of them sigh in relief. The idea of trekking back out into the cold was daunting, and the idea of finding a different hotel is downright scary.
“We’ll take it,” Vanessa pipes up.
“Okey-dokey then. I just need you to sign here and date there.”
As Vanessa signs the logbook, the receptionist passes over a key for the room. “Are you two married?” She asks, conversationally. Though, Mike knows growing up around these types, that she’s just being nosy.
Vanessa shakes her head. “Oh, uh…no. Just friends.”
The woman laughs. “That’s what they all say.”
Face turning red, Vanessa scurries away from the desk, keys clutched in her hand. Mike follows behind her, not trusting himself to not glare at the woman.
They step into the elevator. “You okay?” He asks.
Vanessa’s face is still red, but she seems otherwise calm. But he wouldn’t be a good friend if he didn’t at least try. She clears her throat, shrugging her shoulders.
“I’m fine.”
The elevator doors open.
“So, what’s our room number?”
Vanessa holds the key up. “Uh….says 204. And judging by the positioning of the light, the direction of the wind, and my knowledge of the polar vortex it’s down the hallway to the right.”
He stands there, dumbstruck. “Wow, you actually know our room number from all that?”
She stares at him for a solid minute, not saying anything. “Yep. I definitely didn’t listen to the lady downstairs, and didn’t read the sign right in front of our faces.”
Mike turns slightly, and sure enough there’s a sign directing people to their rooms on the wall. 200-220 to the right and 221-241 to the left.
“Huh,” he says. “Well, I never said I had good reading comprehension skills.”
Vanessa smiles at that, but quickly turns away. “C’mon, I’m really tired.”
Thankfully, the rest of the trip to their room is uneventful. The hotel is eerily quiet, which is weird given that it’s full tonight. But with their luck, the minute they try to get some sleep, everyone and their mother will be causing a ruckus.
“This is it,” Vanessa says, indicating to a number plate on one of the doors.
Mike sighs. “Thank god. It’s been a long day.”
The room is pleasantly warm and smells of mothballs. It’s kind of small, not that they were expecting much. A bathroom that lacks a shower or bath, a closet that’s full of cleaning supplies, and a TV stand that lacks an actual television.
But the thing that gives them pause is none of those things. Instead, it’s the bed in the center of the room. The single bed.
Single as in only one.
They stand there in complete silence. Standing and staring. And then, staring some more.
“Well…” Mike starts, “I can…take the floor.”
Vanessa shakes her head. “No, the floor’s probably filthy. I’ll take the chair over there, and you take the bed.”
He scoffs. “I’m sure I’ve slept in worse places. Besides, you paid for this room. So, you get to sleep in the bed.”
“But….you drove us all the way to Utah and back, so really I owe you.”
They face each other.
“But the reason we went to Utah was for me, so really I owe you.” Mike hates the idea of sleeping in the chair or the floor for that matter, his back has enough problems without adding to them. But he also has the advantage of being imbued with an unholy amount of stubbornness.
Unfortunately, his opponent is Vanessa.
“Well, I’m not sleeping in the bed,” she says, throwing her hands up. “So, if you don’t, then I guess it’ll just go to waste.”
“I guess so,” he shoots back.
Vanessa rounds the bed, presumably to go sleep in the chair. (Another thing that there’s only one of.)
“What if…” he pauses, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the idea. Vanessa looks at him. “What if we shared the bed?”
“Share the bed?”
“Like I sleep on this side.” He points to the side closest to him. “And you sleep on that side?”
“Would you be okay with that?” Vanessa asks.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, waving off her concern. “I’m more worried about you.”
“I’m fine. It’s not a bad idea, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Mike shrugs. “I mean as long as you’re okay with it, I’ll be fine.” And he would be. A lot of his discomfort comes from sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. Sure, he’s slept in a lot of different places, but never this far from home. After Garrett was taken, he grew to fear being away from his parents (and later Abby) for long periods of time.
“Okay,” she says, slipping off her shoes and climbing under the covers. She looks up at Mike expectantly. “Well?”
He takes a deep breath. “I have to call the house. The babysitter is probably expecting me back soon, and Abby will be upset if I don’t say goodnight.”
She nods, snuggling deeper into the covers.
-x-x-x-
Mike slinks back into the room. Thankfully, both the babysitter and Abby understood his predicament. Abby told him goodnight - which was sweet. And then, she started teasing Mike about his apparent “crush” (like he’s in middle school or something), to which he hung up.
He loves his little sister, but sometimes she drives him up a wall.
He slips into the bed, curling up. The blankets are scratchy and the pillows are lumpy, but Mike would be lying if he said he wasn’t half-asleep by the time his head hit the bed.
Next to him, Vanessa giggles.
“What?” He mutters, eyelids drooping.
“Nothing. Goodnight, Mike.”
“Yeah….goodnight to….” Before he can finish his thought, Mike is fast asleep. And not long after, Vanessa follows suit.
For the first time in a long time, their dreams are pleasant.
-x-x-x-
Mike is used to waking up with someone hanging off him. It’s a natural part of being a big brother. First with Garrett-who he shared a room with-and then with Abby, who always preferred his company, even before mom died and dad left.
What he’s not used to is the other person being taller than him, and having their chin rest on his head.
He panics, jerking backwards. Sadly, the bed's not big enough for the amount of panicking his sleep-addled brain is doing, and Mike very nearly tumbles to the floor. At the last possible second, a pair of arms save him, pulling him back.
Vanessa looks at him. He turns on his side, staring at her.
Without another word, they go right back to snuggling. Sure, it might be awkward in the morning, but that would be the future-them’s problem.
They fall asleep, curled up right next to each other. If their fingers wind up intertwined, or they end up snuggling in their sleep, well then, that’s no one else’s business but theirs.
#mike x vanessa#schmelly#fnaf au#fnaf fanfic#request fulfilled#requests open#Thank you so much for your patience <3#cross posted on ao3#mike schmidt#vanessa shelly#one bed trope#fnaf fic
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what do u think are the top 5 stand fights in jojo
this is very hard. at first i thought it was bc there were so many to choose from but when you narrow them down it's a pretty short list of bangers. the problem is the short list is extremely good. here is my best attempt at what ive read so far
READER BEWARE: SPOILERS ARE THERE
star platinum vs the world
example: oh? you're approaching me?
like, obviously, you have to put this one up really high. its The Fight of All Time. it has everything:
a dramatic character death that is NOT in vein......rip to kakyoin the sickest little boy in all of egypt
the apparent death of beloved bastard joseph joestar, in which he gives the longest dying speech since hamlet that sounds like "jotaro! press the A button to punch dio really fast and reffill your meter!" only to be returned to full health at the end so he can do the single greatest prank of all time.
jotaro finally says something so cool it makes you want to stand up and scream for him in sheer rapturous joy
polnareff gets a good hit in.
dio becoming subject to the exact same torment that he inflicts upon others right before a death that definitively underscores that he is lesser than he knew himself to be is perfection. honestly an incredible end to one of the greatest villains of all time. it feels very, very earned and satisfying
killer queen: bite ze dusto vs. the entirety of the town of morioh
example: yoshikage kira traumadumps about getting a boner to a stranger
i actually think this one is my absolute favorite of them all. the communal effort to take out yoshikage kira is a monumental undertaking; he is an absolute bastard with a seemingly endless string of luck. living members of the community who have good hearts, his victims who have been waiting for justice, strangers from far away dedicated to righting wrongs, and a completely powerless 10 year old powered entirely by the raw energy of a child's pure conscience band together to end a literal cycle of violence. how the fuck do you defeat a man who has already killed you and you don't even know it?? how do you stop someone who can turn back time?? it truly fucking seems like hes going to get away with it at the end. and then AGAIN you're like "oh no oh my god hes going to-" and then the single greatest villain death in the history of manga happens lol. ohhhhh its so fucking good.
its another battle thats made all the better by the sum of its parts. the entire yoshikage kira arc is near perfection. the set ups, pay offs, and who it chooses to celebrate as the heroes in the end creates a very satisfying cap to a great series.
osiris vs the stardust crusaders
example: jotaro loses a hand, and increases his bet
i love the stand fights that barely end up being stand fights. star platinum throws i think a single punch in this fight and its to light jotaro's cigarette, a mere taste of the sheer, near impossible speed of star platinum. how fast IS star platinum anyway....would you.....bet your life on it...??!!!!
a friend online told me about the "jotaro has autism" fan theory, and i was like "hm. whatever" until this episode, when i fully 100% believe that jotaro not only has autism but has figured out how to hone and weaponize it against his enemies. all these morons have to do is win a game of chance against a professional gambler who also openly cheats. i love this shit. this is the part of the story where jotaro really, really starts to shine and his unique strengths as a little badass piece of shit start to come through. i think he really starts to solidify his personality here when he finally gets a win that isnt based on "punch something really fast".
oingo and boingo/hol horse and boingo vs themselves
example: hol horse, noted woman respecter, does a flying jump kick on a random rich woman and she's so grateful she pays him in jewels
im counting these as one because i can and i want to. these episodes are fucking tops. easily top 5 eps of the entirety of stardust crusaders. i dont think anyone involved in the anti-dio squad had any idea oingo or boingo existed. bringing back that stupid asshole hol horse is literally always going to be appreciated as he's one of the best recurring villains even though his stand fucking sucks lmfao. boingo's too actually. his stand is he has a book but the book is an asshole. great goofy shit. what is fucking wrong with polnareff and joseph
da morioh boyz vs rohan kishibe
example: rohan makes every comic artist in the world mad
speaking of "whats wrong with him", ive posted a lot about rohan so i'll spare you it again but it's all highlighted best in his first ep. the one where he eats a spider, tears a child's face off for artistic inspiration, and tells another he has a whack ass haircut.
~honorable mentions~
jotaro vs literally two rats: the man who defeated dio and all of his minions almost gets completely smoked by jerry the mouse of tom and jerry fame.
koichi hirose vs yoshikage kira: aka the sheer heart attack fight. clever solution, funny jotaro moments, explosions, koichi levels up, THREE FREEZE, etc
joseph joestar and avdol vs bastet: a rare comedy stand where the joke is good. mariah is a fun antagonist. its also a rare pair up that turned out to be a lot of fun. they play off each other well (badly)
yoshikage kira vs stray cat: foil ep to jotaro's rat episode. weird perspective, fun to see kira play the hero briefly.
team bucciarati vs pesci and prosciutto: aka fighting old lol. the twist on how araki keeps prosciutto's power going while making him inaccessible is twisted. beach boy is also a skin crawling stand. very dangerous boys.
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River Reads Midnight Sun
Chapter 3: Risk
In which Ed struggles with his Plot-driven feelings and Bella is almost squashed like a bug.
<-Chapter 2
(NOTE: So it occurs to me that I’ve not been clear about how hard Edward has been working to do the right thing these past couple chapters. While he has his faults, Edward and his vampire family have sworn off eating or killing humans, and he very much does NOT want to kill and eat Bella, morally speaking. He’s struggling against unusually strong vampiric urges her smell is setting off in his system, and the question of whether he should run away from his Found Family and avoid Bella for her safety, uproot his whole family from their current home if they choose to go with him, or face and overcome this trial, the face of whom the Plot has unfairly branded onto his brain. Also, Alice and Carlisle have been very supportive yet sensible, and I love them unironically.
Okay, got that off my chest! Now we can get back to mocking the teenage angst!)
So the opening scene of this chapter is genuinely nice, in my opinion. Edward and Dad Carlisle go hunting together (deer, because this family only drinks animal blood), and we get a little review of Carlisle’s concern and understanding a week ago when Ed had to leave (including how he let Ed take his car). Carlisle seems a genuinely good person (and a doctor) who fully supports Ed doing whatever is necessary to stay sane and keep from taking a life, even encouraging him to leave if that’s what it takes (despite how much they would miss him). He checks with Edward that coming back isn’t just about Ed’s pride. He’s even openly willing to go with Ed and start over somewhere else if it will spare a needless death while letting their family stay together. +100 Dad Points, Carlisle gets an award for top tier dadding.
Of course, Ed can’t quite put into words for Carlisle WHY he is now so determined to stay, other than it not being pride anymore. This is probably because it is difficult for a protagonist to describe the irresistible pull of The Plot on his affections and sensibilities. The scene changes as they go gallivanting into the woods, and Ed, now fat and unhappy on deer blood, chills by an icy river and spends more time pondering why he cares so much about this girl and why he is risking her life by staying.
I find it hilarious that HE keeps noting how his feelings make no sense. Why does he care about this girl? What about her draws him to her? Why is he unable to think about anything but her? GREAT QUESTIONS, ED! IF ONLY THE ANSWER WASN’T “YOU’RE IN A PARANORMAL ROMANCE”! The poor boy doesn't know what powers he is truly struggling against, even as he considers such self-aware drivers as his “obsessive curiosity” and “unsatisfied appetite.” However, he DOES decide he is going to follow Carlisle’s advice and leave after one more day, because he DOES want to be responsible and selfless! A fruitless determination, no doubt, but let’s give the guy some credit: That was a valiant effort to resist the unstoppable hands of plot-fate.
When he goes back to the house, he chats with Alice, who once again foresees him planning to leave. She doesn’t want him to, and NOT for romantic reasons but out of genuine sister/friend love. They have a moment of mental movie time watching her highly scattered visions about him, wherein she predicts his life is at a crossroads. He makes a joke about her sounding like a carnival fortuneteller, which is actually a good jab, well done Ed. He and Alice go get ready for school, with her still openly sad that he might leave again and making sure he knows she will miss him if he has to go. ALICE AND CARLISLE ARE REALLY NICE OKAY, HUZZAH FOR LIKEABLE CHARACTERS
Off they go to school! During which drive we learn Rosalie and Emmett are sickeningly in love, which…did NOT seem apparent in the first two chapters. Seriously, they've barely interacted onscreen so far, and Ed only mentioned that Alice and Jasper are a thing, so these two staring adoringly into each others’ eyes felt a bit outta left field. Turns out the other six vamps in this family are paired off in sweet adorable couples and Ed is the self-proclaimed grumpy old man, which amuses me greatly. Of course, Singleness Is Bad, so naturally Ed will find his soulmate, even if The Plot has to ram feelings of attraction for her down his cerebral cortex!
As the others head into school, Ed and Alice hang out by their car to watch Bella drive into the parking lot. Bella is obviously very nervous about snow-driving, which Ed realizes must mean she is Serious and Responsible. Ed finds her worry and Bambi-like clumsiness on the ice endearing, and notes when her snow tire seems to make her emotional. (???)
Ed is working himself up to possibly go talk to her, which would be unwise and bad probably, when suddenly Alice has a VISION OF DOOM!!! In SECONDS, a van will come careening into the parking lot, and Bella will be CRUSHED LIKE A BUG!!! Woe!!! Calamity!!! Convenient!!! (Seriously, what are the odds someone would have a life-ending car accident in THIS school parking lot with ACTUAL vampire students watching, and of course the target is one vampire’s new obsession? I don’t care what the OC shows have taught us, fatal car accidents on school grounds are NOT common enough for this.)
So Ed ROCKETS into action, SWOOPING her out of the way in the nick of time! But oh no, the van is bouncing back towards them again! He’s risking exposure already, but dangit, this homicidal vehicle shall not take the girl! Edward grabs it and is slammed back, leaving a nice imprint of his shoulders on another car for his trouble. And NOW he’s stuck holding the van up because if he lets go, Bella will probably lose her legs under the tires.
Ed is so done with everything by this point, resulting in my favorite line of the book so far:
“Oh, for the love of all that was holy, would the catastrophes never end?!”
(Dangit, Ed, why can’t you always be this relatable)
Fortunately, between supermanning the van and Bella into safer positions and panicking over Bella having bonked her head on the ice, he’s able to resist his homicidal cravings, even when he tucks her neatly against him. Now he notices she is alert and seems mostly okay aside from the head bonk. To his consternation, however, she immediately asks how the heck he got over here so fast. Ed lies like a professional and badly wants to get her to Carlisle, who has ACTUAL medical experience as opposed to Ed’s “theoretical medical study” (so that answers the question of how useful Ed’s two medical degrees are).
Despite them lying under two vehicles on ice (and Bella complaining that it’s cold when he won’t let her try and crawl out because she could have a neck injury, which YES THAT IS A REASONABLE CONCERN BELLA), Bella chooses this time to call Ed’s bluff. She is DARN CERTAIN he was OVER THERE and NOT right next to her, and Ed is NOT convincing her otherwise. He finally gets her to shush by promising to explain it later, all the while plotting to use her possible head injury to gaslight the heck out of her and everybody else into believing he was definitely standing right beside her and didn’t practically teleport.
People finally get the van away from the trapped duo, and Ed knows the registered nurse who pops up. He discloses Bella’s head injury to said nurse, and Bella acts BETRAYED, reminding Ed that she likes to suffer in silence, to which I say BELLA, POSSIBLE CONCUSSIONS ARE NOT THE KIND OF SUFFERING YOU DO IN SILENCE!!! The girl needs her head checked in MULTIPLE ways!
As Bella is humiliated over enduring standard medical care after an accident, Ed uses his foot to rearrange the reverse sculpture of his shoulders in the other car. Then Bella’s dad, the chief of police, shows up, justifiably freaked out, and Ed realizes how accurate it was when Alice said killing his only daughter would kill him. (AWW!!!) Ooo, ALSO, Ed notices Charlie Swan’s thoughts are a little hard to read! Not as much as Bella’s, but it seems this cerebral lead lining against mind radar is genetic? And here he thought Charlie was slow in the head! (Ed gets +2 points for noting that HE (Ed) was the slow one for assuming that and never noticing he actually just couldn’t hear Charlie’s thoughts clearly.)
Anyhoo, they get to the hospital, and Ed keeps a mental eye on Bella via the paramedics while he finds Carlisle. He’s ashamed he might have revealed their secret, but Carlisle is just proud of him for doing the right thing and saving the girl’s life. THEY HUG! Carlisle is the BEST, guys!!!
After a chuckle about the irony that Ed ended up protecting the girl he was afraid he’d hurt (and Ed quietly angsting about how likely he still is to hurt her), Carlisle goes to check on Bella. Ed fidgets and watches Hospital Brainwaves TV for a while, so despite the agonizing wait, he has plenty of entertainment. Tyler, the van driver, is hurt bad and feels horrible that he almost smashed Bella, and won’t stop apologizing. To Ed’s relief, Bella is sticking to the story Edward gave about his standing right next to her, even though Tyler also didn’t see him. Ed hears Bella say his name for the first time, via Tyler’s thought-ears (???), and wishes he could hear it with his own ears! He also notices Tyler thinking about asking Bella on a date to make up for the near-death experience, and that is somehow so VERY dumb and also feels accurate to how some high school guys might think, so I can’t really argue with it. Ed, naturally, continues to struggle with the realization that his understanding of his own emotions is nowhere near as comprehensive as he’s believed for the past century.
Ed and Carlisle soon have a brief chat over Bella’s X-rays; she’s fine, although Carlisle notes how many healed fractures her skull has and jokes about how often her mom dropped her as a baby. (No, the jokes are too easy, I mustn't. He’s already claimed the best one anyway.) Ed goes on ahead to smooth things over with Bella, who is impatiently pretending to sleep in hopes Tyler will stop apologizing. She also manages to be pouty that Ed didn’t also have to endure the humiliation of a stretcher, be impatient about being asked about her head again, and deny to Carlisle that her head bump feels tender. Ed, who isn't at ALL influenced by his inexplicable sense of attraction to this girl, determines that because she doesn't like to show weakness, she is Brave. I might argue that she is showing more signs of being a self-focused pity-partyer who thinks she knows better than medical professionals and has low tolerance for petty annoyances, but who am I to disagree with the male protagonist?
Bella is released to go home with her dad, which she…doesn’t want to do? Is it going home or being with her dad that bothers her? Between being annoyed at Tyler for his understandable (if repetitive) remorse, being annoyed Edward didn’t have to be fussed over by hospital staff like she did, and apparently not wanting to hang out with her clearly concerned father, she isn’t doing the best job of earning that Selfless tag Ed gave her last chapter. She’s also highly embarrassed that, as Carlisle puts it, “most of the school seems to be in the waiting room.” Ed, on the other hand, is pleased he guessed her reaction correctly. (He’s also envious that Carlisle can touch her like a normal person and not be tempted to eat her like Ed is, but he doesn’t make it awkward. Apparently different vampires don't find the same human hyperdelicious, which is definitely a positive.)
Naturally, Bella is determined to talk about what REALLY happened before she goes home. Ed, once again gripped by the struggle of not eating her, agrees to talk it out in private. It’s time for Vampire Gaslighting! He’s determined to be mean and a jerk and make her disbelieve her own senses (despite aching for her to trust him), and then he will disappear from her life forever. It starts out pretty well, with him being cold enough that she drops her tough girl act. However, she’s still pretty dang determined and reveals just how much SUPER WEIRD STUFF she DEFINITELY NOTICED, like him leaving dents in multiple vehicles but being fine as sunshine!
Ed’s getting a bit nervous at this point and doubles down on the dismissive act, but then she startles him by saying she’s not going to tell anyone. Regaining his footing, he wants to know why it matters, then. She says she doesn't like lying, so she’d rather know the reason why she’s lying for him. I’m given brief The Princess Bride vibes as Ed essentially tells her “get used to disappointment.”
They scowl at each other for a bit, until finally she, once again more annoyed than self-preserving, wonders why he even bothered to save her. To which he gives what he feels is his first honest reply of this conversation: "I don't know." With that, he ends the discussion by walking off dramatically, as one does.
AND SCENE!
I'd say this chapter was more interesting than the last two! Carlisle is a gem, I am ALWAYS down for a positive and supportive dad character and I will fight for this compassionate good-humored doctorpire. The exposition was SLIGHTLY less focused on Ed’s INNER TURMOIL thanks to the action scene, but don’t worry, there was still plenty of inner turmoil. Bella continues to act contrary to the definitions Ed labels her with, although I can kinda respect her refusing to be gaslighted and standing firm on what she knew she’d seen. Despite Ed’s numerous declarations that today would certainly be the last day he sees her, however, I do not hold out much hope for his success.
As we leave this chapter, here’s my recreation of the “small list” Edward is reportedly keeping of Bella’s character traits! I sure can’t wait to see what else gets added in the coming days!
Ed’s Questionable Bella Vocab List:
Advanced (See Also: Intelligent For A Human)
Selfless (See Also: Martyr)
Fascinating (See Also: Interesting, Not Like Other Humans)
Discerning (See Also: Intuitive, Perceptive)
Amusing
Serious
Responsible
Brave
Chapter 4-> (Coming Soon)
#River reads midnight sun#Midnight sun#twilight#edward cullen#bella swan#literary analysis#kinda?#more like satiric analysis?#Or satiric summary?#i do not know what to call this thing I am doing#Oh well so long as we’re all having fun thats what matters!
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[“You’re so pretty when you smile.”]
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
ೃ⁀➷: summary: some students couldn't accept you enter this college with no magic, luckily deuce is there to your rescue!
ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 884
ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: N/A
ೃ⁀➷: Event: [200 followers event]
[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.
[Warnings:] bad oneshot, lowercase, maybe occ deuce, slight spoilers for prologue, yandere behavior, implied insomnia, violence, mentions of blood, bullying, mentions of deuce's delinquent era, overprotective behavior, implied burnt out, slightly naive reader, people pleaser/'yes' man reader, not-so-strong reader.
[GN reader.]
♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :Deuce spade;
it wasn't easy being a magicless student in a magic revolved college, hell it wasn't easy being in a unknown world! you're practicably a stranger here in twisted wonderland. luckily for you, your (best) friend, DEUCE SPADE is there to back you up. sure your first meeting of each other wasn't exactly the best. considering you've only met each other due to ace being a coward and running away from his supposed punishment but you aren't ungrateful for it. that said interaction lead to you guys being the bestest of friends. you wouldn't have it any other way really.
today hasn't been that great for you. first, you woke up slightly later than usual, insisting to snooze in just for 5 minutes, turned into 10 minutes, turned into rushing out your dorm and just spriting to the school grounds. barely even made it to class, you probably looked like a mess when entering the classroom but you were simply too tired to care. dragging your tired self to your assigned seat, placing your head on the table, putting a random book in front of you. hoping your professor wouldn't be notice you sleeping in class. not that it matters anyways you couldn't sleep. the words of your professor went from one ear to the other. wait, did he say there's gonna be a quiz next week? oh god... you're gonna fail his class for sure..
the rest of today felt like a blur, you couldn't remember much of what happened. honestly it just felt like a repeat of yesterday and the day before yesterday. it was just another uneventful week day. was. you don't think you could call it uneventful after that.
you can't really recall how these incidents follow up to the situation you're in. some students in night raven college were still, precisely speaking, 'pissy' about your whole arrival to school. you know you can't help what other people think about, its something out of your control, you know that. yet you can't help but try to change their views on you. most of your efforts end in failure, sadly. but you refuse to give up, not yet at least!
the whole reason why you try to help anyone who needs it. sometimes borderlining doing everything to help this said person. it's unhealthy, your friends have told you countless of times, but bad habits die hard and you're still adjusting to this new world. surely nothing too bad would happened because of this, right....?
apparently, that was very much wrong. you curse your impulsivity for saying 'yes' with little hesitation in wanting to help your classmate with their homework. they asked you so nicely too, unlike some other students who just demand you to do it for them. you were a fool, truly. you didn't think it was a trap to get your alone and cornered at a place where no one really checks very often. you're backed against a wall with no other exists except the one that is being blocked by your classmate.
you stood no chance against them, it was clear as day. you weren't exactly physically strong nor do you have any experience of being a fight before. you shakingly put your arms in front of your face, closing your eyes and bracing yourself for heavy impact yet nothing came. in fact something touched your cheek instead. you slowly put down your arms and open your eyes to a scene you wish you didn't seen.
the classmate of yours all bloody up on the ground, you can even tell it's them anymore. then there's deuce, his right fist all bloody up, you would've assume he got injured haven't it been for your injured classmate on the ground. since when did he get here..? and how did he know you were here in the first place!? you were about to speak up but deuce beat you to it.
'prefect..? a-are you okay?? they didn't hurt you right!?'
he rushed to you with a concern look on his face. despite the violent responses he gave to your classmate, he was very gentle with you. poorly attempting to wipe off the blood from his hand on his uniform to avoid putting blood on you. he puts both his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down to check if you had any injuries. not that you would have considering he had beaten the person before they took action but you can never be too careful, i guess. he, again, broke the silence once more to speak.
'w-why are you crying, prefect..? d-did something happened while i wasn't here..?'
you didn't even noticed tears were falling down, you tried to wipe them away but they just kept coming back. you knew deuce wouldn't hurt you, you were his friend since the start of first year. yet you can't help but let fear overtake you. you gently try to push him away from you but he wouldn't budge. instead he cupped your cheeks with both of his hands, wiping the tears that are falling down as a way to try and comfort you when really you don't want that comfort from him.
"i really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? you’re so pretty when you smile.."
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
[a/n; how do people write oneshots so good, i'm out here crying my eyes out on how do i make this look good😭😭. rushed ending? yes and i deeply apologize for it. my brain juice is definitely gonna run out istg. enough about me complaining, thank you anon for requesting deuce with #7 for the 200 followers event! it's been a while since i've written deuce before so this is kind of a refresher for me lol. sorry again this took awhile exams were taking place and i get real tired after answering them. good thing summer break is coming so more free time for me to write your guy's requests!]
#event💌#200 followers💌#200 followers event💌#Yandere event💌#200 followers yandere event💌#Yandere twisted wonderland#Yandere twst#Twisted wonderland#Twst#Yandere twisted wonderland x reader#Yandere twst x reader#Twisted wonderland x reader#Twst x reader#Deuce Spade#Yandere Deuce Spade#Twisted wonderland Deuce Spade#Yandere twisted wonderland Deuce Spade#Twst Deuce Spade#Yandere twst Deuce Spade#Deuce Spade x reader#Yandere Deuce Spade x reader#┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Yandere#⭒❃.✮:▹One-shot#gender neutral reader
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Hi! I really liked your thoughts on your last post, and if you're willing to answer, what are your thoughts on Gon's feelings towards Killua? I do think it is requited (somewhat) and Killua's feelings are pretty clear at this point. Anyway, it probably could be Gon not realizing what he's feeling towards Killua, or the more popular interpretation of him being oblivious, or even the idea of him being on the aromantic spectrum. I think it's subtly gets lost in everything else that is happening in canon, which disappoints me sometimes because Gon is such a well written character.
Hi anon, thank you so much for asking! I love thinking about the nature of Gon's feelings for Killua, so it's nice to have a chance to talk about it from my own perspective.
The short version of where I keep ending up after thinking about it a bunch for several years now is that I think Gon does have romantic feelings for Killua, but I don't think at this point he recognizes them as such for a few different reasons.
The first is just that they're young, and I don't think he has enough context to see his feelings that way. For one, Killua is his first real friend so I think it might be hard for him to see where the line gets blurry/goes beyond friendship, and with his direct and straightforward personality he's less prone to picking apart all of his feelings than Killua. In Chimera Ant Arc, his innocence is repeatedly emphasized--he thinks going out with Mito counts as a "date," he is good at handling Palm on their date but he seems oblivious about the larger context of dating/having a relationship with someone, he doesn't get what's going on with Killua insinuating that Meruem might have a lover in his chambers, and so on. There's examples of this before CAA as well. I'm just not sure he's reached a point yet where he can distinguish what his feelings towards Killua mean exactly and how they might differ from those of a normal friendship.
I feel like because Killua's feelings become so apparent in CAA and Gon's attention gets directed away from Killua at that point due to all his trauma and pain, people are quick to discount all of Gon's affection towards Killua before that--"キルアじゃなきゃダメなんだ/It has to be Killua," from the dodgeball match in particular is a line with a lot of romantic subtext in Japanese, how hard he fights to get Killua back in the Zoldyck family arc, all the verbal affection he gives him, the fact that he's proud to have him as his friend and that he wants to show him off to Ging, it just goes on and on. Gon clearly thinks the world of Killua and trusts him above anyone else.
And sure, with Gon it's possible to read his feelings as just platonic. I personally think it goes beyond that, both from what I see in canon and my own interpretation. But I do think it's not debatable that Gon loves Killua (in whatever way you choose to see that love), and even in CAA when he's lost in the darkness, we repeatedly see that Killua is the only one who can bring him back from that. He's Gon's last lifeline and the one who means most to him. Killua sees Gon as his light, but I truly believe Killua is Gon's light, too. Even if Gon hasn't said as such like Killua has, this is conveyed metaphorically by Killua saving Gon's life while literally glowing from his electricity.
It's also worth noting that Gon doesn't see so much of what Killua has done for him and how strongly Killua feels about him. This is something we as the audience see multiple times and in multiple ways, but Killua puts up defenses constantly around Gon, deflects his affections, and hides his emotions and what he does on Gon's behalf. I don't think Gon is completely clueless because they're so attuned to each other, but he definitely doesn't have the full context either, so it's not as though he's had a chance to react to Killua's true depth of feelings for him.
Now that he's apart from Killua, this might be a point where Gon starts reflecting on and maybe piecing together how he feels about Killua. It's hard to say what will happen in canon (though I do anticipate an eventual reunion between them for reasons I'll get into in another post), but Ging's words emphasize the importance of the people who are with you on your journey, and with Killua bringing him back from the brink and then the two of them separating, this is a point where I think Gon might start pondering what kind of connection he wants to have with Killua in the future.
I could go on and on about this topic (and there's a good chance I will talk about it more), but I'll stop there for now. Thanks again for asking!
#hxh#hunter x hunter#killugon#gonkillu#gon#killua#please feel free to weigh in or ask more!#I'm making myself stop to go to bed and also if I bring up any more points in this post it might end up ridiculously long#but I'd honestly love to talk about it more <3#my posts
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