#so EVERYONE who worked hard for this can attend and not have to worry about risking their lives and their families lives. its fucking
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also like my school literally doesn’t report covid cases on campus for like almost 2 weeks. they haven’t updated the dashboard since May 12 and in that time SO many ppl i know on campus have gotten it. so im sure cases are very high and i do not fucking trust then to keep us all safe. they don’t fucking care <- is applying to work for them full time 💀 but still
#purrs#this person who graduated from here in December and is disabled became a covid activist and started this whole organization about keeping c#campuses covid safe and im just crying looking at what they did because of how horribly they were treated and how i fucking backed down when#they were like we already are doing the maximum we can do ♥️ like no you FUCKING aren’t. you are denying reality. you are pretending like#covid is over and it isn’t. and im not even disabled or immunocompromised like there are students who are who won’t be able to go to this an#and it doesn’t even matter because no one wants to wear masks anymore ♥️ like how fucking stupid can you be. not everyone is onay with mask#mandates being removed. not everyone can SURVIVE if mask mandates are removed. so why can’t everyone just endure a temporary inconvenience s#so EVERYONE who worked hard for this can attend and not have to worry about risking their lives and their families lives. its fucking#horrific. like does NOBODY care anymore. are we just giving up completely. fuck them andfuck all the people who are making it hard to access#care and actively denying people who want or NEED stricter guidelines an opportunity to go. this fucking sucks and i feel so bad for that pe#person bc they got ruthlessly mocked on Twitter and had to go thru all this legal bullshit with the admin and they did NOTHI NG and it’s lik#like i don’t even know you h it good for you for taking how painful that was and trying to help people navigate it. and i don’t know what to#do with any of this except not go but also im in pain and not thinking clearly but this is fucking nightmarish. like you want to talk#draconian how about the choices being miss your graduation or get a disease that could lead to chronic illness and death. lol#ask to tag
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she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.
in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.
it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.
i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.
sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.
and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.
once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?
i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.
my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."
the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.
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18+ content; mdni!
Thinking about attending an important state dinner with Husband!Coriolanus
At first, he’d try to keep you safe and closely at his side, a possessive hand set on your waist; his grip on you tightening whenever you’d so much as even look too long at another man.
But then, later, after everyone’s eaten and most people have already had too much to drink, you’re coming back from the bathroom - only to see him deep in conversation with another woman, laughing, her hand on his arm.
What’s even more infuriating to you - he makes no move to remove her hand; at least not until you slide up to him from behind, settling your hands on his waist and kissing him very deliberately and intentionally.
„There you are, Darling, I’ve been looking all over for you“, you say, trying to force a smile as you turn to take in the other woman. „And you haven’t even introduced me to this lovely woman - hello, I’m Y/N Snow, Coriolanus‘s wife, I believe we haven’t met yet“, you say.
Out of the corner of your eyes you can see Coriolanus smirking to himself (he loves seeing you jealous, knowing what he’s in for later tonight.)
Later, when you get home, you’re quiet and withdrawn, so much so, that Coriolanus genuinely starts to worry.
„Something wrong, Darling?“
„Who was she?“, you say, whirling around to face him.
„Who - Augustina? She’s no one, I just know her from work-“
„Do not lie to me, Coriolanus Snow“, you say, trying to control the jealousy coursing through you.
„I told you, darling, she’s no one. Just someone who teaches at the academy - there’s no reason for you to be jealous.“
You huff a sigh of frustration. „I’m not-“
„Jealous?“, Coryo interrupts you, an infuriating, teasing smirk on his lips. „Because, darling - to me it looks a whole lot like you are jealous - over someone that doesn’t even matter. I told you, there’s only you.“
As if to punctuate his words, Coriolanus steps even closer towards you, until the back of your legs are hitting the desk in his study.
Smirking, he reaches up and tugs a stray strand of hair behind your ear, before claiming your lips in a hungry, desperate kiss, cutting off whatever it was that you were about to say.
Helplessly, you tangle your hands in Snow‘s curls, trying to ground yourself - trying to remember why you were so upset with him in the first place.
Though it becomes harder and harder to form any kind of coherent thought when Coriolanus deepens the kiss, his tongue moving against yours, before he abruptly pulls back, breaking the kiss.
You gasp, trying to regain your breath, when suddenly, Coriolanus drops down to his knees in front of you, using one hand to spread your legs apart.
He uses his other hand to bunch up the skirt of your dress, pushing the fabric aside, before running his hand up your inner thighs, fingers gently brushing over your smooth, sensitive skin.
You gasp, when suddenly, his fingers brush right over your clit, only covered by the thin fabric of your already embarrassingly soaked-through panties.
„So wet“, he groans, before leaning forward and burying his head between your thighs, inhaling your scent deeply, causing you to whimper.
„Coryo, I-“
„Sh, it’s alright, I’m going to take care of you now, darling“, he says, before roughly tugging your panties down.
His hands settle on your waist, his grip on you so hard that you’re sure that it’ll leave bruises tomorrow.
Then, without warning, he licks along your clit, before his tongue delves into your folds.
„Coryo - I - fuck!“, you pant, moaning, hands tugging desperately at his hair, trying to keep yourself grounded against this immense pleasure that’s threatening to overwhelm you.
He looks up at you then, his tongue delving into you, reaching that sweet spot inside you that has you seeing stars, one of his hands finding its way to your clit, drawing teasing circles over it.
You can’t help but moan again - the sight of Coriolanus between your legs, looking up at you like that, is almost enough to send you over the edge.
His tongue reaches that spot inside you once more, before he suddenly pulls away again, looking up at you with a smirk on his swollen, slick-covered lips.
„Gonna make you feel good, show you that there’s only you - you’re it for me, baby“, he promises, his thumb still drawing lazy circles over your clit.
He doesn’t give you any time to respond, though, his tongue delving between your folds again, and you throw your head back, moaning.
You desperately try to buck up your hips again, trying to create some sort of friction, but Coriolanus‘s hand is still on your waist, his iron-grip keeping you in place.
„Coryo, please“, you whine, but he doesn’t acknowledge your breathy whimpers, his tongue unrelenting as it pushes into you again and again and again, at the same time that his fingers are still circling over your clit.
You whimper, tugging at his hair again - so hard that it probably hurts, but Coryo only acknowledges your action with a satisfied groan that seems to reverberate deep within your core.
The pressure inside you keeps building and building, almost unbearable now, yet Coriolanus keeps going - his tongue hitting that spot inside you again and again, his fingers stimulating your clit.
You’re a panting, quivering mess; you’re so close - and Coriolanus seems to sense it as well, increasing the pressure of his fingers on your clit, while he finally releases the iron grip his other hand had on your waist, reaching up towards your breasts.
„Coryo, I - fuck, I’m gonna-“, you pant, trying to warn him.
He looks up at you then, his pupils dark and blown, the expression in his eyes wild, intense and desperate. That does it for you, then - seeing him look up at you like that, his head between your legs, his tongue inside you; it sends you over the edge.
You come with a loud moan, back arching, hand searching frantically for Coryo’s. He squeezes your hand then, guiding you through your orgasm, as you come harder than you’ve ever come before.
His mouth is still on your clit and he laps up all your juices - the sensation too much for your oversensitive nerves and with a loud cry, you come again for a second time.
Coriolanus takes it all, actually smirking up at you. Normally, you’d roll your eyes at him, but you’re too exhausted, so you settle on tugging hard on his curls.
Coriolanus just smirks again, before pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. The action has you squirming - you’re still so sensitive and exhausted from your two back-to-back orgasms.
Coriolanus presses yet another kiss on your thigh, before finally coming up again, hands settling on your waist, claiming your lips in a hungry, desperate kiss.
„Fuck, maybe I should make you jealous more often, darling.“
for more Coryo imagines, take a look at my Coryo masterlist :)
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus x you#coriolanus imagine#husband coriolanus snow#coriolanus x y/n#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow imagine#thg#tbosas#x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tom blyth#maysileeewrites
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Can you write jealousy prompt 16 feat. possessive Malleus?
Possessive Malleus you say? Anon, you're speaking my writing language rn.
Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, public display of affection, biting, growling, dragon imprinting, possessive!Malleus, jealous!Malleus
Word count: 1.1k
Ao3
A/N: Including Malleus, Zhongli and Dan Heng, I can safely conclude that characters with dragon features are my type.
16. "I'm not one to share what is mine."
What was with Malleus lately? He was usually cagey and stand-offish, but now he was also extra moody about it. Everywhere you went he would either hiss or growl at any student that approached you. It was attractive at first, now you're simply worried about him.
You didn't know how to bring up the topic either. It would seem a little rude to ask him why he was being so possessive lately. And possessiveness was what it was, that much was confirmed when Jade and Leech tried to flirt with you to get on Malleus's nerves and the second they left he pinned you against a tree, kissed you until your lips were bruised and was then back to normal.
So asking him was a no go. Plan B then, you needed to test your theory. What better way to do then to invite him to the weekend party.
"Me? Attending a party? That doesn't seem like the best idea." Malleus was ready to say no, he always said no to any party that wasn't mandatory.
"You're the one who said you were misunderstood by everyone. I know what a sweet guy you can be Malleus, I want everyone else to know it too. And, is it that wrong that I want to party with my boyfriend? You could dance circles around anyone there." You tried to cheer him up, to boost his confidence that was there when he was with you but in a large group was so minuscule he was hardly the same person anymore.
And you knew why, "Yes because there would be no one else dancing."
"I would be. So what if have the dance floor all to ourselves, it just mean everyone else will be the envious of us." And Malleus and you would finally get to show off your relationship. "Look, we can go there dance a couple of dances and if it doesn't work out we'll leave. Deal?"
Malleus leaned back against his couch, his eyes landing on the picture of the two of you hanging on his wall. "Only because you asked."
As you predicted Malleus was indeed the best dancer there, pride of his Dorm, and the envy of many others. "Are you having fun?" You asked, your faces close so you could hear each other over the loud music. You weren't alone on the dance floor like Malleus thought you'd be, there were quite a few other couples and larger groups of people dancing all around you.
You weren't in the spotlight. "Somewhat." He smiled despite the lukewarm response.
"Mind if I have a turn with the pretty lady?" Malleus's eyes shifted to the side where he saw Floyd offering his hand to you. "You've been monopolizing her all night. It's hardly fair, Draconia." His lopsided smile was hard to read. Was he serious or was he just trying to get under Malleus's skin?
"Floyd..." He was a good friend of yours but at times he went too far with his teasing. Judging by how tense Malleus got the moment he was him this was one of those times. "Thanks for the offer but-"
"She's here with me." Malleus stepped in front of you, one hand clenching at his side, the other holding your hand, both of them getting hotter. "I'm not one to share what is mine. You know this, Leech." Floyd wasn't at all fazed by Malleus growling in his face, one of the rare people who could do something like that when faced with his wrath.
"Possessive one aren't you? I was only offering. The offer still stands by the way." Floyd looked past Malleus's arm and winked at you, laughing away as Malleus steeped towards him.
You pulled him back, deciding you've seen all that you needed. "Thanks Floyd but I think I'll take Malleus back to his dorm."
"Oh! A private afterparty, I see, of course, of course." It was as if the earlier hostility was gone, Floyd smacked Malleus's back causing a little green flame to evaporate from his mouth, "Take good care of my bestie."
You weren't besties but correcting him wasn't what was important right now. Getting to the bottom of this Malleus mystery was. Like for the past few days Malleus glared daggers at anyone you walked by, his body tense with... something. He didn't say a word to you on the way back either, he kept his eyes looking forward.
As you suspected he went in for the kiss again, except this time you pushed him away, your hand on his mouth. His confused mumble was adorable to hear but you wouldn't let that distract you.
"Okay, tell me what's been happening with you for the past few weeks." Malleus blinked, looking down at your hand, "Oh." You lowered it to his shoulder instead.
"What are you talking about?" Huh? Was he joking? No, Malleus never joked.
"This possessiveness and jealousy thing you've been doing Mal!" It was funny and charming at first but now it was becoming odd.
"I've... been doing that? For weeks you say?" Malleus tapped his fingers on his chin. The silence hung thick around you. Was he stalling? Looking for an excuse? "I didn't notice." Didn't he really?! "I should have figured, but I didn't think it would happen after only one time."
"What?"
"A few weeks ago is when we first... slept together remember? I think I may have imprinted on you." He hid his face in his hands, the pointy tips of his ears burning red. "I apologize. I didn't think it would happen that early."
Imprinted. "It happened when we slept together?" Was it when... your hand flew to your neck, on the bite mark that refused to heal. Malleus looked away in guilt, giving a little nod. "So what does that mean? For us?"
"Well, we aren't married exactly but our bond will be stronger. You'll be drawn to me when I'm in rut, and I'll be a little more territorial. Not to the extent I have been but you should expect it on occasion. There are ways to break the bond if it makes you uncomfortable. It's just that, when you said you'll be mine my instincts took over without me even realizing it." You remembered that, you also remembered the sting of pain and overwhelming pleasure that followed it.
"I don't want to break up with you Mal, I was worried about you. You weren't acting like yourself at all." You cupped his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs below his eyes. "I'm glad you told me. It's gonna take some getting used to and I want you to communicate with me when you feel angry or jealous, don't just hold it in and wait for it to blow up in your face."
"Is it really alright? Am I alright?" He pleaded.
"Alright? You're perfect." Those were words he rarely heard, any kind of compliment really. He craved them from you as much as he craved your kisses, well almost as much. Kisses were still better.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#malleus draconia x reader#twisted wonderland imagine#twisted wonderland fanfic#twisted wonderland fluff#twst imagines#twst fanfic#twst fluff#malleus draconia imagine#malleus draconia fanfic#malleus draconia fluff#twisted wonderland x female reader#twst x female reader#malleus draconia x female reader#twisted wonderland x you#twst x you#malleus draconia x yuu#malleus x reader#malleus imagine#malleus fanfic#malleus fluff#malleus x you
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Could U PLZZZ name the Reader Isabel!! plz some smut, bucky barnes, choking kink, kinda innocent... mainly winter solider look!
PRETTY plz it would mean SO muchhhh
Okay but imagine you have an up and coming mission which requires you to take on a new identity. Isabel Rosa, the young daughter of a business man, looking to buy art in the black market. You're to attend a gala hosted by an investor so you can get some intel on the target but you're nervous because you've never done this before.
To make sure everything goes well, you're given a "bodyguard" to ensure no one messes with you or tries anything when you attend that night.
And the plan works perfectly because no one dares look at you twice when you stroll into the event dressed in your pretty pink dress with the 6ft+ winter soldier attached to your arm. There isn't a soul in the room who doesn't know who that is. Dressed head to toe in an all black suit, his dark chestnut hair framing his face, piercing blue eyes enough to make everyone look away. He wears his mask as he escorts you and you can feel all the weapons he has strapped to him when he puts his arm around your waist.
"Relax bunny" He whispers when you shiver nervously, plucking a flute of champagne for you. "it's gonna be fine. No one can touch you as long as I'm here"
You silently nod, taking a small sip while he scans the room, guiding you to the target so you can get closer. He knows his job is to focus on keeping you out of harms way and he does that with ease but he can't help get a little distracted each time you nuzzle further into his side. He loves the way you tightly cling onto him each time you introduce yourself to someone. Its hard to ignore the way you make his pants feel too tight and his composure starts to falter when you both go to an office room to grab a flash drive.
He locked the door behind him while you crack open a safe, pocketing all the contents inside. You gasped, suddenly feeling him right behind you, his tall form towering over you.
"Isabel" He purrs into your ear while you bite your lip nervously, his gravelly muffled voice making your heart race. "Such a pretty name, bunny, y'know that"
"James, we have to go" You squeak, ignoring the throb between your legs while he shakes his head, grabbing you and plopping you onto a large wooden desk.
"Shhh" The rough, hard material of his mask brushes against your shoulder as he continues to whisper, "Don't think I can't smell you bunny"
He gathers the skirt of you dress up, shamelessly shoving his hand into your panties, letting his fingers gather your slick before playing with your sensitive clit.
"Look at you Isabel" He teases, pushing a finger in without warning making you cry out. As soon as a sound slips out, his metal hand grabs your throat, softly squeezing the sides. "Quiet, before all your little investors hear what a whore you are"
You instantly shut up while he continues his slow torture, loving the way you whine and whimper for more.
"What's wrong love" He cooes at your glassy eyes, pressing his erection against your dripping cunt.
"Please soldier" You quietly beg and who is he to say no to such a perfect doll asking for his cock. He legs go of you for a second to undo his pants and pull his length out, pumping it while you gape at the size.
"Never seen a cock before, bunny?" Bucky smirks, using the head to flick at your button a few times, guiding you to look down at the way his pink tip leaks, making your clit sticky with his arousal. "Gonna fill you right up, doll, don't worry"
He hasn't forgotten the mission, his eyes still glancing at the door, ears still sharp for footsteps but he's not about to let this opportunity go. He slides in, shoving his cock in all at once, grasping your neck again before you could scream. He starts to pound relentlessly while your arms and legs cling onto his body, silently sobbing from pleasure.
He growls feeling your cunt squeeze him making his cock throb, smacking your thigh when he feels you clench. He knows you want to scream so bad, the quiver of your lip driving him insane. He takes his mask off, shoving it in your mouth.
"We're gonna be here a while Isabel, better he quiet"
#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky x reader#marvel smut#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfics#marvel fanfiction#bucky smut#winter soldier x y/n#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier smut#bucky barnes imagine#bucky imagine#bucky x smut#bucky x you#bucky barnes smut#avenger fanfiction#avengers smut#avengers fanfic#avengers fanfiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fanfic
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The Burden of Being
Summary: There was an Osamu who loved you once. Who loved Onigiri Miya so much he spent most of his waking hours there, supported loyally by the members of Hyogo Ward. A fire changes that and he and his twin brother adopt their old high school motto: we don’t need the memories. Now they’re gone and memories are all you have. So as an homage to the man you love, you reopen his restaurant back up for him.
Pairings: miya osamu x reader (romantic); miya atsumu x reader (familial); akaashi keiji x reader (platonic)
Content: angst; fluff; inaccurate portrayal of how amnesia works; there is a hospital scene; fem reader; reader eats meat; reader has depressive symptoms that are, for the most part, amateurly addressed; reader attends therapy; alcohol as a coping method; undiagnosed alcoholism; unhealthy coping mechanisms; cigarette smoker Akaashi; cigarette smoker Osamu; amnesiac Osamu; pro volleyball player Osamu; the characters are all in their mid to late twenties bc this fic covers the time span of 2+ years; long passages written within parentheses are memories; there is a mentionable size difference between Osamu and reader where reader can wear his clothes and it be too big for them
Word count: 22k+
A/n: the premise for this fic was born after binging The Bear; she's gone through 4 drafts, 2 of which were completely scrapped and rewritten, and strayed much further from the initial plot than I imagined, but she's here! Thank you The 1975 for writing About You which I binged just as hard and would rec listening to it while you read! Sets the vibe, you know? Anyways, I've talked too much (obviously) but if you read, know that I love you!
The day was Tuesday, the most unforgettably forgettable Tuesday to exist.
Your downstairs neighbor was doing laundry. Or upstairs. Someone was doing laundry that day because you remember the scent of down. It lifted into your bedroom, pressed into your sheets, and made it harder for you to wake up despite your phone’s incessant vibration.
A shounen ending song, the season finale. A matcha roll. A nurse who spoke with her fingers and head tilts. A walker with tennis balls at the bottom, an annoyed cab driver, and a tourist who smelled too strong of American deodorant.
They were all there. You remember.
The hospital was the same as ever. It had ample seating, not too busy, which you recall eased the burden on your heart (only slightly) if it weren’t for the reason you were in the hospital to begin with.
An elderly woman sat at the end in one of the chairs pushed against the wall, sucking on a candy that smelled like guava when you passed. Her walker was parked right next to the seat and someone, probably her daughter because she was younger but they looked alike –they shared the same nose– sat beside her on her phone.
There was a man in an obscenely large overcoat sitting in one of the middle aisle seats. You remember because you couldn’t help but be quietly jealous of his wear considering how cold it was in the lobby. And finally, a teenager who was crying on her phone, holding her stomach as she did. Her tears gave you courage, allowed you to slip them quietly down your cheeks and soaked them up with your sleeves when you got your moment alone, away from the rest of the family.
You weren’t there when Osamu got hurt. He was by himself in the restaurant, opening it up and getting it ready before everyone else arrived just like how he always insisted.
You weren’t there. But you do remember.
Ma held you in her arms the moment you turned the hallways. She was on her way to the cafeteria, grabbing something for Atsumu to eat. Her head was downturned, a doleful cadence in her steps, and it was obvious that she’d spent ample time shedding tears, but there was a quiet peacefulness to her. Acceptance.
Her phone call had been quick like a debrief. She mentioned an accident. A fire, a gas leak, and despite your gasp, quickly told you not to worry because the doctors said Osamu would be fine. She said to come when you could, because she was there and Atsumu was on his way and he was going to be okay.
Then when you arrived, she immediately started crying. She had pulled you into a hug, devoured your body into hers as she pressed her head into your chest to weep.
She cried before she even got to say hello. And you didn’t know then, but there was a hierarchy for the pain.
Atsumu bore Osamu’s, Mama Miya, her sons’. And with you on the outside, with you being the last arrival, you held all of theirs.
And gods, do you remember the pain.
Ma had warned you that Atsumu was attached to his brother’s bedside. He was hunched over in a chair pushed back so he could burrow his head into the crooks of his elbows. The steady rise of his back meant he was asleep, probably cried himself to it. It had been a long journey from Osaka to Hyogo, and just the news of his brother’s incident, the weeping he must have done in public and bedside, you didn’t even question his exhaustion.
With your eyes on Osamu’s still figure, you moved to rub your hand soothingly along the length of Atsumu’s back. Comfort him was your thought process. Comfort your brother because Osamu would have wanted you to.
Was it bad to say that, inside, burrowed deep in your selfishness, you felt relief? There was a certain calmness that Osamu had been lacking lately, like a Tuesday morning where he finally, begrudgingly, gave himself an extra day off.
It wasn’t until you felt liquid dip down your neck that you realized you were crying.
Dark hair sweetly tussled to the side, one hand held in Atsumu’s and the other loosely laid over his chest. The scene was a rewind to the past, a replica of a childhood stored in the photo albums you’ve perused more than once in the Miya family home, when sharing beds and staying up until dawn led them to sleeping in until noon. When was the last time you’d seen him so… calm?
If only there weren’t any bandages on his head. If only it didn’t take these kinds of circumstances to finally close his eyes, to allow himself an unlabored breath.
You pulled up a chair and situated yourself amongst them. Atsumu at Osamu’s right, and you at Atsumu’s. Rolling a hand over Osamu’s thigh, you tucked the blankets in, pressed it into the crevices, his soft body heavy under your ministrations. Neither of them noticed you. Osamu only shuffled slightly, tilted his knee to the side and then clenched Atsumu harder. Atsumu responded immediately and scooted in. You stayed beside them, observed from the side.
There was no bitterness to your actions. What they have is something different and sincerely, for them to even love you so much that their bond bent, that they made themselves flexible to fit you in, it had always been enough.
Atsumu was who you called when you couldn’t talk sense into Osamu. And Osamu was who you turned to when Atsumu’s pride refused to allow him to fully run to his brother.
Ma came later. She brought a matcha swiss roll for the both of you to share and Atsumu a complete bento. It roused both of her boys up. Atsumu woke up first.
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his left hand, the one still joined with Osamu’s and though he woke with his nose in the air, his freehand started reaching for you the moment he recognized you were there.
Your tears brought on his. His yours. Yours Ma’s. You held each other close and you whispered, because Atsumu could not bring himself to speak, words of consolation.
“He looks okay,” you muttered, eyes closed because you couldn’t chance a glance to look at him, to really, really look at him. “He’s going to be fine. He’s so stubborn. He’s going to be okay.”
Whether the words were salt or sugar on wounds, it was hard to tell because all that emptied from anyone’s eyes were tears.
No one expected to be here. Who did? Even when you watched Osamu sign the insurance policy and signed your name next to his just in case something happened. Something could never happen to you or Atsumu or Ma or Osamu. These were precautions to ease the heart, not the premise of a tragedy.
But even then, it would be dishonest for you to admit that Osamu’s accident was the most devastating part. You’re only being truthful because true pain began when Osamu woke up.
Atsumu noticed first. Even with his back to his brother, it was instinct that forced him to turn around. His groggy eyes were barely open. You could only see a slit of gray, drowsy and clouded like an overcast morning as his hand patted the edges of his bed as if in search of something. Of Atsumu.
The dutiful brother forewent everything. You, his ma, his bento, and immediately bent down to reach for his brother with both hands. He was at his side immediately, a cup of water brought to Osamu’s parched lips without a word before you could even recognize that Osamu was awake and against all disbelief, that he looked okay.
You took the napkin that was neatly folded atop of Atsumu’s bento, the one that had somehow been passed onto you and quickly made your way to Osamu’s side. To Atsumu’s side. And when Atsumu’s hand pulled back and Osamu resigned himself to a weary groan, eyes shut to take a physical break from all the hurt you were sure he was feeling, you handed Atsumu the napkin. He wiped the corner of his brother’s mouth with a gentleness you had never seen him bear.
An eerie silence persisted in the room as everyone held their breath. Osamu did so because of the aches and everyone else as a life vest because one wrong exhale felt like this reality could slip away.
It did. Frighteningly quick. Relief dissolved from your chest like cotton candy in water and all was left was this cloying and overbearing feeling of inconsolable despondence and disbelief because how? How did you end up here?
Osamu flinched when you pressed your hand against his thigh, a quick jerk that you surmised had to do with the fact that he had his eyes closed. You twisted your palm and stroked up, a move that you had done many, many times before, a premise to sex, a plea for comfort, and instead of him falling prey to your touch, he jerked out of your reach. There wasn’t even enough time for you to react because Atsumu had gripped your hand away between clammy fingers.
You looked between the two boys with a heart going brittle.
“What’s wrong, Samu?”
Said man took one quick glance at you before settling his gaze on his brother and a foreign expression passed him. Insecurity. He pressed himself deeper into his pillows and it forced Atsumu forward and you back as Osamu passed a glance to his mother.
He looked like a boy. And between exchanging glances at his mother and brother, Osamu couldn’t seem to find it in himself to return his gaze back to you.
Atsumu gripped his brother’s shoulder, “Samu, Samu. It’s okay. I’m here. We’re here.”
Osamu responded silently with a glazed stare that made Atsumu sputter. “Samu? Ya feel okay? Can ya tell me how ya feeling right now?”
The question seemed far too much to handle because all that was received was silence. Atsumu was hardly holding himself together with the tears that spilled from his eyes onto blotted, pink cheeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to move forward. You wanted to help carry this burden, hold Osamu like you’d done many times before, but the world felt skewed. Instead of being at his bedside, you felt like you were standing outside a window, watching the scene from a distance.
“Do ya… do ya know who I am?”
Ma broke first. You remember reaching backwards and gripping a wet hand full of used tissues, the fibers sticking to your skin.
“Samu. Samu.” Atsumu repeated his name over and over again like prayer, an incantation meant for miracles. “Samu. Say my name.”
“Tsumu.” The small croak was accompanied by the mildest glare, a small fire of insult always and specifically reserved for his brother and Atsumu choked.
“Fuck. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That’s me. Ya remember our birthday?”
“October.”
“What day?”
His face pinched momentarily.
“What day, Samu?”
“What happened?”
“Nothing, nothing.” Atsumu tried to deflect, “just try to think about it. What day is our birthday, Samu?”
“Atsumu…” Ma finally gained the strength to speak, a tiny chide that she was too exhausted to actually give any weight.
“Fifth,” Osamu pushed himself to sound out, like the word was a foreign tongue.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Atsumu brushed his brother’s hair with his fingers and the sight was disconcerting because despite how close they were, how they were one part of a whole, they had never been so careful. A childhood of roughhousing and testing limits proved invincibility.
Bruises and beatings and cuts that they wrought on eachother and yet there Atsumu was, tending to his brother as if he’d been his caretaker all his life.
“Ya recognize anyone else in the room?”
“Course I recognize Ma, ya idiot.” He coughed in between, stutters forming one worded sentences, but the attitude brought on the brightest smile on Atsumu’s face.
“Yeah, and who else?”
You remember moving to lift your hand, the one pressed against your lips to keep them from trembling, the one that wasn’t holding Ma’s, to provide a shy wave but thank the gods it stayed. Because when Osamu finally urged himself to look at you, instead of the ardor and the sweet groggy expression right before early morning kisses, he winced in pain. You muffled the sound of shock, but no one noticed with Atsumu’s screeching chair as he rushed to hover over Osamu’s anguished figure.
He writhed for an achingly long moment, though it must have been just seconds. You would have ran off if Ma didn’t force her grip on you tighter but once Osamu could melt back into his hospital bed, Atsumu turned his head.
His expression was tight and so desperately trying to be controlled despite himself. But you weren’t an idiot because beyond the glassy edge of hurt and worry and fear, if you dove deeper beneath the well of tears that pooled in his eyes, was blame.
Atsumu turned his back to you and pressed his brother’s head into his chest as he rubbed large strikes across his back. “It’s okay, Samu. Sorry I pushed ya. Ya did well. Ya did good. Ya gonna be okay.”
And before Ma could stop you, you ran out the door with the excuse that you were going to find a doctor. You turned down the hallways, heedless of direction, where you were able to find what you thought was a secluded cove. The torment was gushing, a pain that you’d never felt or could even begin to understand. No matter how you expelled the misery, in tears or heaves or wracked out sobs, the hurt never abated. It was limitless.
Because for some ridiculous reason, this felt like all your fault.
You were only able to spend minutes crouched in the privacy of your corner until a nurse found you. It must have been a usual sight because she hovered over you, a quiet calm in her voice, as she led you away with a bottle of juice in one hand and into a room where no one else was. She said nothing, only passed napkins your way and didn’t blame you when you couldn’t find it in yourself to express gratitude. Afterward, she pointed down a long hallway and told you that when you were ready, that’s where the waiting room was.
Ma came by maybe an hour later. The pain at that point had swelled into your marrow, aching at every movement you made, but the bubbling river of tears had turned shallow. Now they were silent streams. You had spent the last half hour in solidarity with the teen who cried to her mom over the phone, catching glances every time a sniffle turned wet, and seated in the spot with a lingering guava and menthol scent.
Ma sat where the grandmother had, you beside her. Without glancing up, she placed the matcha roll in your hands, half eaten but notably uneven because you had the larger half.
Her touch lingered. It stayed. When it prompted more crying, the reality that you were a pitiable sight, that this wasn’t just shared between you and the girl with her arm around her stomach and the wordless nurse, the swollen bones in your body bursted.
Ma’s cold hands easily maneuvered you into her bosom. She held like you’d seen her hold Osamu in pictures when he was sick, like how she held Aran when he cried after coming back home after being away for so long.
“We’ll get through this.”
It sounded like an empty sentiment but if anyone were able to make the impossibles come true, it was Ma and Ma alone. You barely believed her, but maybe. Most likely not, but maybe, she was right.
So you nodded into her chest but she only clicked her tongue behind her teeth.
“Together,” she told you sternly, “as a family. I don’t want to hear none of that.” Ma held you tighter when she felt you pull away. “Ya’ve been my daughter for a long time now. Even if the two of ya never got married.”
You’d been trying to be so strong. For Osamu because it was obvious. He was your partner for life, and though the vows were never spoken, you had lived them. For all the good, the bad, the happy, and the sick.
But Atsumu, his pain was tenfold and you had to do something, even if it was to tread the thorny footpath to be by his side, even if it was just your hands cupped open so you could help carry his misery.
Then Ma held you like she was strong enough to piece you together again and you trusted her. Your wails were muffled into her cardigan and she rocked you back and forth despite the arms of the uncomfortable chairs in the way.
“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t–” your breath ceased, words lingering in the air because living it is already unbearable enough.
“He does.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Ya think a love like the two of ya had is that easy to forget?”
It wasn’t. Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to. But the way Osamu had winced in pain at the sight of you, and Atsumu’s imperceptible glare, maybe it was best to be forgotten.
Ma took your silence as agreement because the circle of her arms loosened. She pulled back so that she could wipe your tears with a bent index finger.
It was jarring seeing the puffy rise below her eyes. She had always been beautiful in your opinion. A simple charm for life and the zest derived from raising two wildly vivacious boys kept her young. In a single day, she aged a decade and you wondered how you compared.
“The doctor is on their way. Come on,” she tapped you the same way she did whenever Atsumu started an unnecessary argument, “let’s go see what they have to say.”
Atsumu’s expression flashed in your mind, hesitation clenched her cardigan tighter, “but Atsumu…”
“Don’t be mad at Atsumu,” your throat had lurched when she looked away from you, head tilted to the side as if you had just slapped her across the face. “He’s going through a lot. He doesn’t know what to do.”
And you remember how your grip relaxed, how your arms had fallen into your lap, diminutive and so, very exhausted. Never did it cross your mind to be angry at the way any of them ached. Not Ma, not Atsumu, and especially not Osamu. If there was anyone you hated, it was yourself for even being there.
Ma said you were family. But Atsumu and Osamu, of course, they would always be her boys.
Osamu was asleep when you reentered the room and Atsumu held your hand as if nothing had ever happened. He stood up immediately when the doctor stopped by, eyes forward. Something had changed that day. Atsumu was a different man.
He’d have neverending stories of when he was captain at Inarizaki, and he liked to pass time by retelling another instance where he had to wrangle control of Bokuto, or Sakusa, or Hinata. Atsumu’s passion and sense of righteousness were great qualities for a leader, but his clumsy delivery always made him the butt of Osamu’s (among others) jokes.
That day had changed him. His footfall was sure despite his blemished expression as he listened faithfully to the doctor, only ascertaining everything you had already deduced.
It all made sense, logically, scientifically, situationally.
The fire was still being investigated but from the report, it had loosened the foundation of Onigiri Miya and it caused a beam from the ceiling to strike him flat against the head. He’d been knocked unconscious before the flames could even consume the restaurant and if it hadn’t been for the regulars and the community that had memorized their favorite restauranteur’s habits, no one would have even known he was inside.
As you all waited for Osamu to come to again, you’d rationalized the incident repeatedly in your mind. Reality though, was never as kind.
Because even in the tepid fluorescent light, you couldn't convince yourself. This could not be real.
It’s not. You knew this, but Osamu spoke with such vindication, honesty in every breath that even he had you fooled.
“Ya traded out Kageyama when we were six points down in the second set.” Osamu recited to his brother at his bedside, in the same spot, in the same clothes, in the same battered expression. “And I remember cheering ya on from the bench when ya set the winning point to Aran against Russia.”
The silence that followed was cold. A shiver started at the dip of your shoulder blades, and wrung you out like a towel squeezed dry.
The doctors had said something like this would happen. Memories could return a little misplaced, as if you had just moved everything two inches to the left because it exactly was as Osamu said.
In the 2020 Olympics, Japan faced Russia in the first round. They won the first set, but struggled hard in the second. To prevent risking their lead, Kageyama was subbed out for Atsumu. The tides had turned and they won with Aran scoring the last point.
Yes, Osamu was there. But rather than on the bench, he was outside the arena. You were manning the register and he’d stepped outside the final moments of the match, standing there with his arms crossed like a dad, cap in one hand, and head tilted at the enormous screen that streamed the ongoing match inside.
Atsumu was the one who made the first sound. It was strangled and faded when his brother gave him a peculiar look. Then he glanced at his mother, urging answers out with his eyes, staring at everything before landing at you. His face contorted in pain, but Atsumu saved him. He grabbed his brother’s cheeks, hair glued to his skin, and he pressed his forehead against his brothers, and nodded.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”
That was the extent of what you could take and you ran out of the room, droplets of your tears mingling with the tile’s speckled pattern, and when the door clicked again, you didn't have to look up to know who it was.
“I’m sorry.”
Through your blurry vision, the world graying, darkness descending right before your eyes, it was like you were speaking to Osamu himself.
“He looks happy for the first time and I’m so sorry.” The Atsumu-Osamu amalgamation held your hands desperately.
Their individualism had always been easy to parse, especially with you being devotedly in love with one and having developed a brotherly affection for the other, but you allowed yourself this. If your heart must break, let Osamu herald this pain. No one else.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He pulled you in by the shoulders and hugged you. He sniveled wet breaths into your neck just as you darkened the cloth on his back. “It’s the first time I feel whole.”
The sting reappeared between your nose and you found it harder to breathe so you clutched him tighter in a feeble attempt to expel all the excess tension that had ballooned in your chest.
“I know.”
Though the fact did little to ease you, you'd never been able to compare. What is Osamu’s had always been Atsumu’s and vice versa, too. Joint custody in all things: pride, success, pain.
Memory.
“And I don’t want to break that yet. Not for him.” Not for me he said silently. “And I love ya and I know ya love him. Ya love him so much and he loves ya too but–”
But I love him more. I love him in a way you could never.
“I know.”
Osamu would pinch your lips shut if he were really here. He’d never stand for your way of thinking because comparing yourself to his brother was a thought he never entertained.
That’s like apples to oranges or whatever that saying is. I chose ya. I choose ya for the rest of my life and I just happen to be stuck with that guy for life.
You took Atsumu’s face in your hands. Wet cheeks stuck to your fingers as you collected tears along your lash line until the world blurred just enough that blonde turned dark brown and golden rays faded to gray.
“- but I don’t want to take this away from him yet. Ya heard the doctor. He said we could try some exposure therapy so that his memory can unwonk itself out again, but ya saw that didn’t ya?”
Tears burned down your chin when you gave a somber nod, “I did.”
“When he was talking about being in the Olympics, I… I just–” he bit his lip, the memory painful, “ –and he got all those details correct, I just couldn’t tell him no.”
“I know.”
You couldn’t either.
“We’ll start the therapy when everything settles down. Maybe he’ll start remembering things on his own but it’s been a lot for him to deal with. The injuries, his memory, the shop–”
You shook your head and the man before you paused. He looked surprised with his mouth open for breath, but the foremost expression did not hide how he felt yesterday.
Your thumb started at the plump of his face and swiped up to the ridges of his cheekbones. A clean slate.
“It’s okay. Osamu will be okay.”
Your love was Osamu’s choice. Atsumu’s will always be shared.
After that day, you kept your presence minimal. Only occasionally stopping by, slowly relinquishing the things that the old Osamu, the one that knew you, valued. Each time, he’d hold the item like it was foreign. You watched from the corner of the room, like a diminutive decoration, maybe even a broom, and spectated as Atsumu helped him pull item after item.
The black hoodie, stained at the cuffs, and chewed strings at the ends, the one he had first shared with you.
(The night descended softly, like the flutter of silk sheets, and before you knew it, you’d been in Osamu’s front seat talking nonsense and sharing an assortment of leftovers he’d brought from Onigiri Miya. You’d only been talking for a couple of weeks, slowly getting to know each other outside of customer and cook, but it’s been months of patronage. When Osamu texted you after his shift and found you still awake despite your early start the next morning, he invited you out for a drive.
You’d heard him before he arrived, the worn out truck of his announcing his presence. He had the audacity to apologize for the poor state his vehicle was in, as if it wasn’t endearing, as if he didn’t make you feel like a princess when he held his hand across the console for leverage.
And here you are now, at a hilltop overlooking a beautiful city you’d moved to in a drowsy silence. His presence is calming, a knitted blanket that softens the bite of the night air. It doesn’t stop you from shivering though.
Osamu notices immediately, head snapping to you when you do.
“Ya cold?” he asks, but regardless of your answer, he’s taking action. The man braces a hand around your bare thigh since you’d only come out in sleep shorts and shirt (though you still made sure to check yourself in the mirror before heading out) and just the warmth beneath his touch makes you ache. You lean closer, just a slight movement over the console for any residual heat he has to offer, the seats of his vehicle a sharp contrast.
“Still working on fixing her,” Osamu explains, “she’s a little off in some spots. Her heater don’t work and she leaks some fluid every hundred kilometers but she’s still a beaut.”
Your smile makes Osamu pause. His body is turned as he tries to reach for something in the back, but just the sight of your expression makes him stop and fully face you so he can take it in.
You think it’s cute how he talks about his car, how despite all her flaws, he can see her value. The world has been hard on you, but he gives you hope. From the moment you met eyes on him at your office and when you walked into his shop months later, greeting you with a fond welcome because he remembered you, he makes you think that he can see your true value too.
And with the way he leans in, his eyes glancing between yours and your lips, his hand unknowingly dragging up and down for the feel of more skin, you think he does.
The kiss is chaste, so innocent like the first drop of sunlight in the winter. It warms you from the inside out with a crisp feeling that makes you feel renewed.
Barely a second, but Osamu has you wishing for more. You’ve noticed he has a tendency to do that, to have you eager and hungry for all that he has to offer. How from just one bite of his catered food to your office, you couldn’t help but visit his shop as well.
Though your lips have parted, your faces have not. Osamu’s lashes are long from this point of view, and his skin looks lovely in the moonlight. You’re so close that you can see the small veins, blue and greens below his eyes. The colors are so distracting, his breath so warm across your cheeks, you can’t help but stare, memorize everything before the chance to do so again is taken from you.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
His husky words create a vortex of desire, consuming you wholly. You can’t help but squirm in your seat.
“Like what?” You’re doing your best to keep it cool, but you can hear the fray in your voice, reedy and needy and wanting. It’s scary to even think of the power he has over you.
“Like,” his pause forces you to glance at him and you see it too, a mirrored expression of yearning. It’s so intense the way your barriers break. It’s scary. You want to pull away, escape the emotions that are hardly within your control but he tilts your chin with an index finger and thumb. The motion is so gentle, the slightest touch with the heaviest of meanings, and he continues to stare. Maybe even admire. “Yeah, like that. Ya gonna make me go insane.”
“Me too,” you whine. It’s unfair, so unfair what he can do just with his eyes.
His expression hardens. The corners of his eyes crinkles as he glares his sight down on you, “don’t. If I kiss ya again, I don’t know if I can control myself. Ya don’t know how bad I want ya.”
“I’m right here.”
Your reply induces a vexed response. He has to breathe heavily through his nose as he fully moves his fingers to cup your cheeks. You watch as his chest rises, the breadth of it expanding as the tendons in his neck protrude at the action. Then he looks down on you from a head that’s tilted back and you see it, the subdued hunger that you’re sure he’s trying to persuade back inside. It’s frighteningly beautiful. The attraction beckons you forward despite his grip on your face keeping you still in your spot.
“Why?” You have to ask. What is all this discipline for when clearly, it’s reciprocated.
“Because,” Osamu grits. His hand travels to the back of your head and you can feel the strength of his grip, the promise of more beneath his fingertips. “If I’m gonna wreck ya, I’m gonna wreck ya right. So quit being the devil’s little thing, and let me take ya out on a real date so I can have ya properly.”
You pout but his thumb moves to push the plump of your lips back in, “no, ya hear me? Ya keep those pretty lips in. Be good and I’ll promise I’ll treat ya even better. Ya okay with that?”
His dominance, the assuredness in his words but the ragged pitch in his voice, as if he’s hardly holding himself together, as if he wants this just as bad, or maybe even more than you do has you finally agreeing despite the fact that you’d give it all. Forget the shame or the ladylike propriety of saving yourself for when you’re sure. Lust is a persuasive speaker, but Osamu, he is a promise you want to ensure you’ll have.
“Good,” Osamu is pleased with your ascent.
His attention returns to his back seat and he pulls out a black hoodie for you to put on. When you pop your head through the collar, you don’t expect the confident man to suddenly be so bewildered, mouth agape and wrist hanging dumbly from the 12 o’clock position of his steering wheel.
“What?” you ask though you know the answer. It’s a giddy feeling to know there is a power balance between the two of you.
“Ya, uhm, ya,” Osamu coughs into his hand, turning his head away before looking back at you. “That shit’s old. All stained up and ragged but. Ya make it look good.”
You look down, sleeves well past your hands where you notice blots littering the cuffs. You can’t help but bring the strings up to eye level. There are teeth marks indenting the aglet and you give Osamu a dubious stare.
He shuffles, a nervous chuckle, “like to chew on them sometimes. Keeps my mouth busy.”
Then without a second thought, you bring it to your mouth to chew it on your own. If he won’t kiss you, an indirect kiss has to suffice. His agonized groan is worth it.
Osamu takes you out on an official date the very next day.)
Osamu spared one second for the article of clothing and tossed it to his night stand. You pretended that he didn’t just break your heart.
The next item was Vabo-chan, but not the same one Osamu had brought into your shared apartment. That one faced its demise after a neighbor’s dog ran inside when you accidentally left the door open and used it as a chew toy.
(“What are ya doing on the floor like that?” you hear the door to your bedroom creak but petulantly refuse to acknowledge him. His steps thud, hollow over the cheap wood of your home.
“Hey,” he nudges you with his foot, “ya asleep? Ya gonna hurt ya back if ya stay like that.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Are ya crying?”
“No!” Denying but not hiding, you curl into yourself even further.
Osamu bothers this time to actually hold you with his hands, gentler, more patient. He softens his tone too, “hey, hey. What are we doing?”
He waits for you to react, doesn’t continue pressing further and refuses to leave you alone.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” you lift your head up, fresh tears as you admit your failure. You expect Osamu to comfort you, abate the sting of your own proclamation. He stares at you for a moment before he starts laughing in your face.
“You hate me!”
“Hey, now that’s going too far. I don’t hate ya.”
“But you think I’m stupid.”
“Just occasionally. Like when ya make impulse decisions.”
Hearing him makes you scream into your palms. Osamu laughs and urges you into his lap.
“What’d ya do?”
He’s so mean to know you so well, all the good and the bad.
“Tell me. So we can cry together.”
You press your face into his shirt, using it as a napkin to wipe away your tears, ignoring his mild grunt of disgust when you do. “Remember when Vabo-chan got eaten? Well I bought you a new one to replace him because you were sad.”
“Did ya?” His voice sounds so surprised, it makes breaking the bad news feel even worse. “That’s mighty nice of ya. Doesn’t make ya stupid.”
“Okay, but—“ You scramble off him, knee digging into his thigh that he makes a noise of pain, to get a box tucked underneath the bed. Your hand runs across the frayed cardboard where it had ripped open from your excitement. Hesitation stops you but Osamu places his palm on top of yours. Careful and encouraging and though you know he’s going to laugh at you, you finally open it up but stop yourself by placing a hand on top of the item.
“I was so excited! Because they don’t sell him anymore, just the vintage ones that are super expensive.”
“I know.” He’d been talking about it with Atsumu and his Ma, conversations you’d overheard on the phone.
“But I saw it and it was super affordable so I bought it without thinking, but,” you look up at him and he smiles. It makes you hide your face in the box but he’ll eventually admit to you later on how cute you had looked then. How distraught you were on his behalf and that then, in that moment, he’d truly felt loved. “Don’t laugh!”
“I won’t.”
Your constant hesitation brings on Osamu’s impatience and he tries to pry your fingers away, “okay. Seriously. Don’t laugh or I’ll cry.”
“I told ya, I won’t.”
The plush comes out on your own accord and before he has any time to process the sight, you begin overexplaining. “It’s a counterfeit! They gave him a nose and his name is Bavo-kun. I’m so stupid!”
Osamu’s too quiet, expression unreadable as he looks at the stuffed toy. Your heart is teetering on the edge of a cliff, so close to falling off and on the verge of tears once again. Then he bellows out a solid bellow from the gut. Before you can crumble into embarrassment, Osamu pulls you back against him, squishing stupid Bavo-kun between you two and holding you tightly against his chest.
“I love him,” his voice turns wistful. “Bavo-kun.”
“I hate him. He’s so ugly.”
“That ain’t right to say about ya kid.”
“What?”
“Look at him.” His eyes fall to your chests, forcing you to take in the hideous sight of your failings. “He’s got ya nose.”
“That is not funny, Miya Osamu.”
“Oh no, Bavo-kun. She used my full name. What are we gonna do? Ma’s mad.”
You slap his chest. Bavo-kun is collateral damage, “don’t call me that!”
Osamu’s humor is all sorts of fucked up. His laughter is excessive, shaking the both of you that he loses his balance and you guys fall to the floor. A hand of his comes to cup your cheek, acting as a buffer before you thud onto the ground and with your heights at the same level, tears drying out, you can finally see his expression clearly.
He reminds you of gemstones at moonlight, the sparkle of something beautiful. Light cannot replicate it, only refract it. And though it’s close-lipped, his smile pulls you back from the edge, melts you to the ground and anchors you back with him.
“I love this life,” Osamu confesses, “This family. I love ya and our little mishap.”)
The way Osamu’s eyes had lit, you couldn’t help but clasp your mouth to hide the smile that blossomed beneath. It was devastating how despite it all, his joy elicited yours.
“Vabo-chan!” Osamu looked to his brother in an eager excitement. “Remember how we begged Ma to buy us this when we were little?”
“Yeah. Then we had a sleepover every night with the four of us. Tucked them in with their own pillow too”
Osamu lifted up the plush’s hands, fondness tight in his expression. His eyes roamed, though they were elsewhere, remembering the memories he never lost.
“Wait a second,” Osamu’s expression hardened. His hands traced over the lines on the Bavo-kun’s face, flipped him over to read the tag, and when it didn't provide the information he wanted, he turned the toy over again to face it directly. “This ain’t Vabo-chan. The hell is this fake shit?”’
Atsumu was quick to return to damage control the way he had been these past couple of days. He plucked the toy and tossed it to a chair on the side and told Osamu not to worry, that Vabo-chan was back in Osaka in Atsumu’s home because Osamu was kind enough to lend him his when Atsumu left the one he owned on an airplane.
New memories. Fake memories.
Lies.
You were out before anyone could stop you. Not that either of the boys would have since in the midst of this whole facade, all you were was a burdensome truth.
You laid in bed accompanied with misery. The emotion made for a poor cuddle partner but it kept you company as you shivered and wailed into pillows that hardly smelled like the Osamu who knew you anymore.
Ma called. The image of her worried eyes made you answer, but when she’d update you about Osamu, how she’d first tell you he was getting better and then, as if an afterthought, urged you to visit him, you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you didn’t want to hear it.
So you started ignoring her calls. She was persistent, as expected of a woman who raised a set of rowdy boys all on her own. She knocked on your door between two minute intervals, called and texted in the gaps between and you made excuses like you were busy working over time to catch up on the job you’d left behind.
All untrue because you’d emailed your supervisor that you’d be on an indefinite leave of absence with no explanation. There was no part of you ready to meld back into the real world again. Your world had ended, your existence ceased and now it was your duty to find your place again.
Ma’s final message was an update that Osamu was getting discharged from the hospital. She mentioned that the family would be moving to Osaka at Atsumu’s insistence. She wanted you to come by before they left.
You didn’t.
With the money you’d gotten from selling Osamu’s food truck, a phone with a dying battery lost beneath your bed, you traveled in the opposite direction to Okinawa.
It was supposed to be healing. You were supposed to recreate a new identity here, find yourself in the beaches, among the company of strangers, smoothened into fine stone and drawn back to shore after getting caught in the riptide.
But here you are, with misery steeped so deep within your bones that it’s turned you bitter.
You leave your budget lodging only because your stomach tells you to and the measly mini fridge of your studio had nothing but flat soda. There’s no reason to look in the mirror, a quick scrub across your face is enough to remove the crust from your eyes and dried drool from the corner of your lips.
The convenience store is just around the corner from your temporary home. You’ve been trying to maintain your elusive nature, hoping you can leave the island as folklore, by limiting your patronage and entering the establishment at various times.
It’s the first time you smell fresh air, and admittedly, it does feel good against your skin. Much more palatable than your room which was already scented by mold when you entered. There’s birds singing and even the scent of smog excites your stale senses.
The world is so effortlessly beautiful.
And that’s what makes it so cruel.
You push your way into the convenience store, the aggressive movement rattling the bell above.
By your last visit, you’d memorized the aisles so you stroll on through with a single basket in hand. The thought process is careless as you pick out which shelf stable meals you’ll have for the week. It’s not until you reach the cold beverage section that this mundane visit turns into something interesting.
You squat to level yourself with the bottom shelf, debating whether or not you had the energy to carry a full twelve pack the half kilometer back. Just the thought of it hits you with a sudden feeling of fatigue that you cannot help but groan and press your forehead against the fridge door.
You’d spent the past two weeks alone so just the quiet call of your name has you jumping up defensively.
Akaashi looks down at you unimpressed.
“What are you doing here?” You look around, fearful that Atsumu or another one of Osamu’s volleyball confidants might be around. “Are you following me?”
Akaashi is an acquaintance at best, an Onigiri Miya fanatic at most. You hardly had a chance to have a conversation with the man when every time you saw him, he spent most of it with a face stuffed full of onigiri.
Your reaction flattens his expression even further.
“No, I did not take a three hour flight all the way to Okinawa only to watch you buy alcohol in your,” Akaashi pauses, “sleepwear.”
He has a point so you settle in the defeat by glaring at him.
“I am on a company retreat,” he finally explains. “You are far from home.”
“Retreat,” quick to use his verbiage, “yeah, I’m on a retreat, too.”
He eyes you then glances to the fridge door. You glance along with him and notice that the oils of your skin transferred onto the glass panel and do your best to hide your embarrassment with anger instead.
“What,” you challenge, feeling awfully prickly today and poor Akaashi is the one you get to take it out on. Who else? Certainly not Ma, or Atsumu, or Osamu or the nice landlord who handed you keys without question. Of course, you’re particularly nasty with yourself as of late, but if you can share the beating with someone like Akaashi whose deadpan nature is persevering, then so be it. Now that Osamu’s erased you from his life, it’s not like your social circles will ever collide again.
“You look…” Akaashi doesn’t spare you any grace. His eyes roam over your figure, disgust especially contorting his features when he witnesses the sight of your shoddy pants that have seen better days. In fairness, so have you. “Maudlin.”
Despite not knowing the definition of the word, you gather context from just the tone of his voice and it immediately makes you frown.
Defensive, you’re quick to retort. Because who is he, baggy eyed Akaashi, hangnail ridden Akaashi, squinty and blind Akaashi, no owning hairbrush Akaashi, to speak of your current condition?
“And you look like your retreat isn’t retreating.”
You get up, discreetly rubbing your self portrait in sebum with a pants leg, and impulsively decide that you deserve the 12 pack thanks to this new inconvenience. The pack slams against the glass door when the suspension forces it back too quickly. Akaashi moves to help but you cast a glare before he can.
“I do not need help,” you supply.
His reply is nonplussed, “you do.”
“I don’t,” and now the corner decides to catch on the gasket. Akaashi ignores your small grunts and your quiet insistence, pulling the door wide open.
You thank him begrudgingly only because it’s the socially acceptable thing to do but the man doesn’t let you stray much further.
“What if I bought another pack?” That catches your attention. More liquor, less lucidity, less opportunity to remember you’re sad. It seems to be a curse these days, the power of memory, and for once, you think it’s quite unrelenting. “And I paid for your items? Will you let me camp out wherever you’re staying?”
“There’s only one bed.”
“The floor is fine.”
“It smells like mold.”
“Let’s buy a candle before we leave.”
There’s a desperation that you recognize, a solidarity between two persons barely hanging on and the least bit put together. It shouldn’t be so exciting to find someone as miserable as you but isn’t that what they say? Misery loves company.
“Holy fuck,” you grin at him, sardonic, “I don’t remember liking you so much, Akaashi.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
It’s a stupid response, a very Akaashi response, so you giggle manically and kick a pack with the toe of your shoe.
“Grab the 24 pack. We’ve got some retreating to do.”
Akaashi is running away from his responsibilities and so are you. He locks himself in your studio without a mention of its disarray and happily sleeps on the flat futon provided by your temporary landlord with a single fitted sheet and your neck pillow. The amenities offered are quite militant, but considering the price point, you cannot complain and neither does Akaashi.
Neither of you mention what sorts of horrors plague your sleep, a respect for each other’s privacy, because despite enjoying his company, life did not bring you two together out of kindness.
There’s a reason why the underneath of his eyes have swelled to a charcoal gray the same way you cannot help but begin your mornings with a beer. The two of you watch reruns of old childhood shows and every so often, Akaashi wordlessly gets up to go outside for a smoke. You thank the heavens there’s no balcony so you wouldn’t have to face the familiar sight of a back lazily bent over a railing and the slow wisp of smoke. He comes back inside with the hint of tobacco on him and you think he’s noticed how it makes you choke because the first thing he does is wash his hands before sitting next to you again.
He chooses to abide by the code of silence until the fifth day. It’s an evening where the bed has been stripped bare, the room emptier than it already is.Your dirty clothes had been piling up but it had been a struggle to clean them when laundry felt like a hug, the firm press of a collar and a lost nape. The two of you lie on the floor and bide time while you wait for the linens and whatever paltry laundry either of you have dry.
Akaashi dons a white undershirt and sleep shorts, you in a shirt that doesn’t belong to you. It doesn’t belong to anyone actually, because its owner has abandoned it too.
He holds a half eaten Okinawa style onigiri in his hand and the sight is so familiar you don’t pay him any mind. Your thoughts are gluey from the alcohol so it takes an extra line for the jokes to settle. Laughter is muffled by your forearms where you’ve placed your chin, laying on your belly and big toe tracing a gap between tiles on the floor.
Even the sound of Osamu’s name takes longer to process.
But you still remember. You devotedly will.
“These onigiris taste different from Myaa-sam’s,” Akaashi says beside you.
You lay a cheek on your arm and look up at the cross legged man. He finally got his glasses and other belongings from his previous room yesterday. A smile is already plastered on your face because the liquor makes Akaashi funnier than usual.
The joke never comes.
“Did you ever want to talk about it?”
His question prompts self reflection. Talk about what? What was there to say when the two of you have been so busy running. Immediately, you scramble to get up onto the smooth surface of the stripped mattress to put some distance between you two.
“That’s why you’re here, right?”
Beneath glasses, Akaashi’s eyes have a pointed edge to them.
“What do you know?” It’s suddenly so cold now with the space between you and there’s nothing to cover you up. You can only pull your knees to your chest.
“Nothing.” Akaashi turns to look at the TV. He watches the scene play out until it cuts to a commercial. “Atsumu doesn’t say anything. He’s been uncharacteristically tight lipped.”
Akaashi says uncharacteristically but you’re not surprised at all. This sounds exactly like the Atsumu you know now. It fouls your mood and has you reaching for your emotional support sake from the nightstand.
“He tells everyone to entertain Osamu lest he get a traumatic episode.”
“You’ve seen him?”
“No,” Akaashi watches your face deflate so he tacks on that Bokuto has.
Tension coils the muscles along your bones. It makes you feel frigid so you gulp down the rice wine in hopes that it warms you up from the inside out. Akaashi only watches. He never mentions your drinking habits. You don’t say anything about his smoking tendencies. These were the boundaries you were supposed to respect, but the man keeps on pushing.
“I heard you sold the food truck.”
“How else could I afford all this luxury?” Your hands stretch out to broadcast the shoebox the two of you call home.
He’s used to your defensive sarcasm by now, only taking a singular bite from his onigiri. “So the branch in Tokyo?”
You laugh. “Not happening.”
Then you finish the whole bottle with an aggressive gulp. You flatten yourself against the bare mattress. You ignore him, pretend you’re alone, pretend you’re okay, and you accept the dizzying fall into slumber.
When you wake, the laundry is brought in. It smells exactly like down and a headache. The digital clock on the nightstand tells you it’s midnight so you drink a bottle of water and work on fitting the sheets to the bed. For your efforts, you reward yourself with another can of beer. Then another. It only takes two for you to fall asleep again.
The both of you don’t broach the topic. He reels you back in with a sense of normalcy, the routine of bumming it in front of the TV and the unhealthy eating habits. Even when you blurt out that onigiris are now banned from the house, he only provides a knowing blink.
Slowly, the space between you two skitters away. He coaxes you in like a stray with indifference and eventually, he’s sat cross legged in front of the TV while you lay next to him on your belly.
The duration of your lease is running out as the month dwindles away into repetition. There’s only a couple of days left but you’ve run out of alcohol and food. It’s a weekend night with prime time television over reruns and you’ve gotten particularly attached to this drama that you started halfway through so Akaashi and you head out one evening to prepare for the last couple days of indulgence.
You should have known Akaashi had something planned when he veered to the left with the excuse of wanting to try out a different store.
Once you heard the quiet roar of waves crashing, you had to pause. A rush of trepidation overcame you. Akaashi was already halfway through the crosswalk when he turned around and noticed you weren’t there. He urged you with his eyes, sharp still below the frames of his glasses. People walk around him and you cannot help but notice their peeved expressions. The sound of cars whiz past and the waves do nothing but recede and crash and it’s all so much to take in.
“No,” you shake your head.
You want to run but where do you go? Forward? Away? Where else because there is no going back.
The crosswalk sign starts blinking and there is renewed severity in Akaashi’s expression. He beckons you with an outstretched hand.
It reminds you of Atsumu, the way he had reached for you the first day at the hospital.
It reminds you of Osamu, the days he’d pull you out of bed when you slept in.
“Come with me,” Akaashi says.
That is all you need to go. The dramatics are uninhibited as you make your way to him, blind with your head bent as one wrist wipes away incessant tears and the other is extended to catch his hand. He takes it. It’s a foreign union with his spindly fingers that are long enough to twine around your wrist like a restrictive vine but you relinquish yourself to it.
Because, this whole time, all you���ve wanted is this: promised, unselfish companionship.
Akaashi leaves you on a bench and returns with meat pies bought from a nearby food truck. The smell of it saturates the area in an appetizing scent of fried deliciousness that has your stomach gurgling. You’ve not had a single healthy meal since you arrived in Okinawa but the alcohol you’ve imbibed religiously for the past few weeks welcomes the offering.
“Have you wondered yet what is going on with me?” A bus whips past you two with an uncomfortable gust of warm wind. You want to pretend that you didn’t hear Akaashi over the sound of the engine, but his silence is imploring.
“Always,” you say.
Akaashi entertains you with a small huff, “you could ask.”
“But then that would breach our secret NDA. Which you have breached by the way. You owe me another 24 pack.”
“Considering I no longer have a job, we might have to put that on hold.”
You reply only with a wide eyed surprise.
“I put in my resignation yesterday.” Akaashi admits. His hands glide up his thigh to clear the grease from his fingertips. “Do you want to ask questions now?”
There’s a lot of questions running through your mind. First of all, why? Why quit? What was the reason? Why did it take you in your pajamas buying alcohol before noon on a foreign island for him to do so?
“Yes, but I won’t.”
“You’re aberrant.”
“I’m assuming that means ridiculous.”
“Close.”
“Share whatever you want to share. I won’t…” you almost hand the crust of your meat pie to Akaashi out of habit. You press it into the napkin instead, crushing it with the pressure of your fingers. “I don’t want to force anything out of you if you’re not ready.”
Akaashi hums. It’s a sound similar to when the understanding of a concept finally dawns on someone. He kicks his long legs out. The Oxfords provide a bouncy noise and it’s only now that you see how aberrant Akaashi is. Near the ocean shore, he wears business casual dress with slacks and though unpressed, he still dons a button down with elbow pads. Freaking elbow pads. You must look ridiculous next to him in your novelty shirt and pajama shorts. It’s been difficult wearing anything that doesn’t have elastic lately and jeans leave for no room to breathe.
He pulls out his cigarettes from his breast pocket and when he remembers, he turns with a silent tilt of his head, asking permission to smoke. You only nod but turn your head away quickly. The gradual exposure to the smell is one thing, but the sight of him smoking might be another step you’re still not ready to take.
The cigarette crackles twice in two long inhales and he makes a point to blow in your opposite direction.
“I’m told that literary composition is not my forte.” You remain quiet, respecting the beginning of Akaashi’s soliloquy. “People tell me that I’m not meant to be an author. The world, actually. My short stories weren’t selling so I tried my hand at writing fanfiction for Meteo Attack, the manga I edit and hardly anyone read it. I even got hostile responses for my characterization.”
He needs another two inhales from the admittance. You don’t blame him.
“My boss and I had been working on a training plan the last two quarters so I could move to the literary department and the night before I met you, we were announced our placements for the next quarter. Mine didn’t change, still editor, still in manga. And when I asked, my boss said he’d be an idiot if he let me leave. I was too good at my job to change positions now. I went on a manic binge, slept through my alarms for the scheduled office activities, saw you, and figured you’d be the best excuse I could have to avoid my boss and coworkers for the rest of the trip.”
The sound of the lighter flicks once more. You listen to the quick initial inhale and the lengthy one that follows.
“My intention was never to quit. It was just like you said, retreat. I wanted to abscond myself of responsibilities for a moment but then I ate the onigiri I bought and I remembered. I remembered lots of late nights in Hyogo with you and Myaa-sam and Bokuto. And it made me think of you.”
“If it’s pity you’re offering, I don’t need it, Akaashi.”
“It’s not. I’m offering another contract. A business one.”
You turn to him and find that the smoker had finished his cigarette already. He gathered saliva in his mouth and discretely spit it on the floor before turning back to you.
“Let’s open Onigiri Miya up again.”
The idea sickens you because just the name of the restaurant brings back an onslaught of memories you’ve been trying to avoid. Osamu in his tight arm sleeves and black apron. His musk after a long night. His weary smile that would worry you only for a second until you realized it was satisfaction that compelled it more than anything. The sweet and salty scent of sticky rice and the starchy feeling on your hands whenever you would swirl your fingers in the buckets of dried grains that Kita would present to you. Long days, long nights, and Osamu, Osamu, Osamu.
“There’s no way. I have no clue how to even begin starting a business.”
“You say that but do you even know if your job will be there when you get back home?”
That was also another pertinent issue you were still planning to avoid.
“There is an Osamu out there right now who doesn’t even know that Onigiri Miya exists. The world is telling you you’re forgotten and there are people out there willing to accept it. But did you? Did you forget?”
His intensity brings on a delicate quality to your voice, “of course not.”
Osamu could forget you, but you? Forget him? The erasure of his existence was something so foreign of a thought that even just the mention of it strained your heart raw.
“I didn’t either. Do you want anyone else to?”
Your response is incomprehensible as you blow snot into your grease laden napkin but the point comes across. For all the weeks you and Akaashi have spent together in the apartment room, he touches you a second time ever, hand atop yours once more.
“Then let’s open Onigiri Miya back up.”
It’s minutes later until you can gather yourself up again and even longer for you to seriously entertain the idea. The night is quiet and you’re thankful there are no passersby to witness this embarrassing exchange.
You think of everyone that Osamu had brought into your life when you walked into his. All the customers and friends and neighbors that offered you joy and small gifts worth living for. Atsumu was okay with throwing it all away, abandoning it just like his high school motto had endorsed.
But they were the ones who found Osamu. They were the ones who saved him, who forced the firefighters to break down Onigiri Miya’s door when the fire began to consume. If not for the community he fostered, he would not have had the second chance he has today.
There’s an Osamu out there that does not love you, that you may never learn to love without being hurt, but there was an Osamu that was beloved by all. If you had to do it for anyone, you’d do it for him.
“Fine.” Akaashi does not move, eerily still as if to not startle you to backtrack. “We can give this a try.”
You settle in with your choice and finally, with a bit of courage, you ask “I know what I am getting out of this, but what are you?”
“A flexible schedule so I can write my novel,” the man beside you answers frankly. Then in a softer voice, he adds, “and maybe I can finally open that branch in Tokyo.”
You cannot help but crack an amused snort. Akaashi joins you with his singular chuckle.
“That seems ambitious.”
It is so grossly, overwhelmingly, exceedingly ambitious to run a restaurant and more so, to even consider a second location. Promises are easy to make on tear-stricken nights amongst the salty air of Okinawa, but back in Hyogo, the air is severely stifling.
Even with more than half a decade of partnership with Osamu, it is a steep learning curve managing all its operations. Your ex boyfriend did not make it seem easy. No, not with the long hours he’d pull or the days when he’d lash his frustrations on you. Some days, even seasons, happened to be more difficult than others but to have first hand experience all on your own is novel.
Akaashi moves in the day you guys arrive. The two week unofficial dry run makes the decision easy. He fills in the space that has been left behind, screens all the voicemails that you’d avoided when you were gone, and confirms that you are officially jobless by looking through your emails too.
What is better than one jobless, mid-twenty travesty who is one milligram of caffeine away from a breakdown? Two jobless, mid-twenty travesties who are one milligram of caffeine away from a breakdown. It’s a support system, hardly structural but functional enough.
It includes a lot of spontaneous frenzies, you and Akaashi both. He teaches you to be quite efficient with your distress. A prolonged yell helps relieve the pressure and it compels the other to join. You teach him the benefits of isolation. Sometimes, it’s simply best to take some space, to cast away the burdens for a night and relearn how to breathe.
It takes a year and a half to open the restaurant with the help of Onigiri Miya’s neighbors. Their support does not come without payment though. They ask questions you’re unprepared for and no response is ever safe. If you say you are fine, you’re scrutinized with a watchful eye, just waiting for proof of a lie. If you admit that you’re struggling, there’s pity. Some are more vocal about it than others, a patronization in their tone that never used to be there before.
The price may be steep, but it’s worth it because Hyogo ward was Osamu’s community. They carry the pieces of Osamu that you know, the ones that made the alleycats fat.
(Osamu frequently gets yelled at by the Shizuku, the florist, three doors down. She blames him for the rising cat population. Osamu laughs it off. He always did and frequently, there is a cheeky quip that follows. He says something about catnip.
Something like, “ya sure ya ain’t the one growing catnip in there?”
It taunts the woman even further, but malice never burns their interactions.
A grudge on Osamu, though easy to promise, is impossible to uphold. Not when he delivers a bouquet of onigiri right to her door the next day. Not when he accidentally tips a pot over while obnoxiously perusing through the abundance of greenery, hoping to find catnip within the collection. Not when he looks at her sheepishly, swiping his hands on his apron as if dusting away any evidence and says, “now how did that happen?”)
Shizuku’s a savior, by the way. If left to your own devices, Akaashi and you would work yourselves to the point of exhaustion but Shizuku comes in during lunch and always provides tea in plastic cups. Eventually those cups turn into a beautiful ceramic set when Kita drops off your first order of rice, a visit in disguise.
His barley eyes that were always warm to you darken at the sight of Akaashi. Their greeting is stiff which you thought just had to do with their taciturn personalities but it wasn’t until Kita pulled you into the alleyway, Akaashi left to finish painting the front, did you realize it was out of protectiveness.
“I was glad to hear from ya.” Kita leans against the waist high wall that separates two lines of shopping streets. “But I didn’t know how to feel when I found out ya were calling me about business.”
“I know,” you say, eyes cast down low. Kita has a way of making you feel guilty with so little words. He’s disappointed, you know despite his level tone, because you never called. What was there to discuss? You figured if Osamu could forget you, if Atsumu can cast you away, then there was nothing to expect out of his friends either.
“I won’t say anything because I know ya already feel bad but Gran and I were worried about ya. It’s good to know that you’re okay.”
You shrug. Okay is hardly what you’d describe yourself when you’re barely hanging on just like the threadbare sheets from the studio in Okinawa.
Kita crosses one muddy boot over the other, “and what ya got going on here, it feels like the right thing.”
It’s hard to make of what you feel, decipher the feelings that manifest inside because the days have not gotten any softer. The pain is ambiguous and persisting. Whenever you feel like you’ve made progress, another strain emerges like a new variant of the same virus. You’re doing this for Osamu. But Osamu…
“Have you talked to him lately?”
Kita’s lips line into a solemn expression. He stares you right in the eye and you hold yourself strong because you know he’s testing whether or not you can handle his answer.
“Not recently. Atsumu’s kept their distance from here. If I do see them, it’s when I stop by Osaka.”
“And…”
“And he’s good. He plans on going pro,” Kita shakes his head, “or Atsumu says, going back to pro. He tells him he took a break.”
You nod slowly. So that’s what you were. A break.
“But it ain’t him.”
The farmer’s voice is barely above a whisper and for some reason, it is gut wrenching. You have to lean against the wall with him in case you topple over. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it, the admittance that the Osamu you had was someone real. And maybe that’s why you’ll never be okay because you’re chasing after validation that has already been erased while he chases other things, of dreams unfulfilled.
“This,” Kita points to the restaurant in renovation, “this is him, but…”
He never finishes his sentence. The irony of it makes you laugh.
“Well I’ve got another delivery to drop but don’t be a stranger now. I’m serious. I ain’t letting ya. And visit Gran once in a while, will ya? She needs someone to talk to because I think she’s about had it with me.”
Kita hugs you goodbye and by the end of his visit, you think Akaashi’s gained his approval. When he leaves, he gifts the two of you the tea set. They are black with white and brown intricacies. Two of them have geometric blocking designs and the other two have one lone stalk of rice, bent gracefully by the wind.
Akaashi and you sign up for onigiri making courses where you eat them for every meal. So much so that even Akaashi of all people gets tired of it. The craft does not come easy to either of you despite your business partner’s penchant for it and Osamu’s intermittent lessons over the years. When you did help him out on the days he was short-staffed, Osamu would have you ring up customers up front, smoothly mentioning how your pretty face would help them rack up tips when you knew it was just to keep you out of the kitchen.
(He flusters you with a wink and an encouraging tap on the ass, laughing when you look back. He flings his glove into the trash can and makes his way to the handwashing station, thinking it was worth it just to see your cute pout. You know he’d wasted boxes of gloves since you’d been together just for one quick touch. Your eyes would be enraptured by the graceful jerks of his chest and the curl of his lips and later, at close, when the two of you were finally alone, he teases you about it. He asks you if you were hungry, what with the way you devoured him with your eyes. You bite his arm just to prove how hungry you were.)
“Quit drinking the mirin. That is foul and we need it.” He hides little revulsion in both tone and expression but your time with Akaashi has you immune to his harsh delivery.
You take another swig out of spite even if you didn’t plan on having another sip. It is, in fact, foul.
“This is the only thing that has alcohol in this apartment.”
Akaashi snatches the bottle with starchy hands. The residue imprints the shape of his palm onto the neck of the bottle, furthering his irritation. “Then drink something that does not have alcohol.”
“No,” you slump with your chin on the table, leveling your gaze with the practice oblongs you’ve just made. “I am sad.”
They’re lumpy and if they’re not lumpy, they are mushy. If they are not mushy, then the filling is peeking out. All in all, completely imperfect and not suited for a restaurant succeeding Onigiri Miya. Just the image of his disappointment discourages you because these were not up to his standards and certainly not to yours.
“We just need more practice,” Akaashi tries to console. “Maybe we could buy molds.”
“He didn’t use molds.”
“Unfortunate. We’re not Myaa-sam.”
“Neither is he.”
Akaashi doesn’t respond. You don’t say anything more either. If anyone is tired of your deploring, it is him and he already has to handle you enough. But it’s true, isn’t it? No one is Osamu anymore, not even the one out there who is probably doing practice sets in a gym, who wears a uniform that’s less than five years old, who has no recollection of you.
“Everyone’s going to be disappointed because it tastes nothing like the ones he used to make. They’re going to hate us for even disgracing his name.”
Akaashi’s had enough. He drops his practice roll, the heavy weight of the thud clattering the utensils on the table. You’re about to reprimand him but the man talks over you.
“Do you think that’s why people will come? Because of Osamu?”
The answer seems obvious that you can only gesticulate.
“Are you inane?”
That hasn’t been a word of the day so you haven’t learned that one yet but you can take a guess what the right answer is. “No?”
“People want to come and support you. Everyone knows Osamu’s gone off elsewhere doing whatever he is doing now. You’re the one honoring his memory. You’re the one keeping him alive. You are the reason they’d walk through our door now so get your act up.”
You glower like a child, unsure how exactly you feel. That sort of pressure seems daunting but comforting at the same time. You want to do him right. Is it really better than not even honoring him at all?
“You’re mean,” you settle on saying.
Akaashi clicks his tongue behind his teeth, “do you want to scream about it?”
You smile, “yeah.”
His mood lightens, “me too.”
“Okay, but it’s late already so we should probably scream in some pillows.”
“Yeah, that sounds right.”
The journey continues like that. Ups and downs. Ebbs and flows. Akaashi handles operations and finances. Your first job at the local government helps you complete the clerical stuff like having the proper documentation and paperworks. Your most recent job in IT helps you develop the website while Akaashi words out the marketing. You set up all the socials, design the uniforms, and the last step is to decide on the name.
The night before the opening, you have a dinner for everyone that helped as a thank you and soft launch. You and Akaashi slide in and out of service with Shizuku, Kita, Gran, and some of Akaashi’s friends like Konoha and Kuroo and Kenma as guests. It’s a small gathering of every single member of the community that never forgot about Osamu sitting around a massive table you’ve made by pushing the smaller ones together.
“Lovely what ya did with the rice, here,” Gran says beside you, a seat she had claimed.
You tilt your head to the side, “that’s all Akaashi.”
“Fine cooking, dear.”
“I followed a good recipe and had a little luck.”
“Ya better hope not,” Kita laughs and it’s comforting to hear the quiet trickle of his humor knowing fully well that Akaashi’s been accepted into the family. “Or else ya gonna have some unhappy customers.”
“Will ya tell us now what the name of the place is? Hard to advertise if I don’t know what it’s called,” Shizuku demands.
Her impatience started when she walked right through the door, but you wanted to wait for the right time when everyone was already gathered together and broken bread, heart happy and stomach satisfied. It’s how Osamu would have wanted it. It’s how you do too.
“Fine,” you say, dragging the word out with little bite in your tone.
You pull out the uniforms you’ll be wearing tomorrow. It looks not much different from what Osamu used to wear, plain black shirts with lettering on the upper left portion of the chest. Everyone lifts up from their seats to witness it.
o.mo.ide
Miya Osamu, Onigiri Miya, memories that you’ll always keep close to your heart.
There’s tears that escape, from you no different. There’s more that follows when you show them the corner right by the entrance dedicated to Onigiri Miya. You want everyone to know whose walls these actually belong to, whose essence and soul brought his dreams and yours to life, that without him, this would have never been possible.
Kita helps you kick everyone out knowing that you and Akaashi have a long day ahead. People promise to visit tomorrow just to show their support as they bid you goodbye. Gran slips an envelope of cash between your hands and quickly loops her arms around Kita’s so you can’t make a scene.
Akaashi is quick to have a foot out the alley back door after cleanup. He nods his head out, “are you ready?”
“Yes.” You run your hands through the crisp fabric once more as you shuffle your bag over your shoulder.
And the two of you leave. The black apron on the last hook closest to the back alley door waves as the door slams shut. There’s a black cap above it with the original character snaps against the wall from the wind pressure. They sway in the dark, until finally they lose momentum and settle in the dark.
They stay. They always will.
The support is so overwhelmingly kind. People show up in droves that Kita has to come in later in the day with an emergency delivery because your forecasts had been so off. Compliments come one after the other, of the design of the store, the food, and even yours and Akaashi’s service. Cheery employees were no longer in, it seemed. Everyone loved the stress-ridden ones instead. More relatable, they’d explain.
The novelty slowly wears off, but you maintain a generous rotation of regulars. Of course, Shizuku always arrives. She retains her habit of having afternoon tea with you and Akaashi. She’d bring along Hayashi, the man who owned the ice cream shop behind your store. He’s a grizzly man with a barrel chest with a right bicep so plump from years of scooping ice cream. The two are the neighborhood’s newest gossip. Flowers and ice cream. Looks like they do go together.
And you think that you have finally have this life handled. You and Akaashi settle on this pleasant routine of wake, work, and rest and the mundanity has you fooled. Still, after all this time, it takes so little to disrupt your small ecosystem of peace.
You hear someone compare o.mo.ide as a mockery of what it used to be and it sends you into a spiral. You listen with a crazed expression, hands busy scrubbing tables but ears listening like a hawk.
Osmau never needed consolation like this. He had been a master of quick glances. He was always multitasking, mind on the next task as he was still in the process of finishing the first. And his eyes never missed anything, not when you’d try and sneak into his office unnoticed to surprise him for break or how he’d always know when someone was taking their first bite. He’d watch from the corner of his eyes and he’d wait for that precious moment. It didn’t take much to make Osamu proud. Just a single hum. He’d beam from ear to ear, and as if shy from his sudden display of emotion, he’d tuck his chin into his head and pull the brim of his cap down.
But then again, this was his forte and not yours.
You start sleeping in and waking up late. You lose the habit and Akaashi has to pick up after you. In order to make it up to him, you offer to close the restaurant on your own. His response is a simple scan to check that you’re okay, but he has little energy to say a word, probably expended it screaming in the walk-in freezer when he couldn’t get you out of bed. So he goes.
You don’t even wait a full five minutes after he left to lock the doors and ignore any knocks from customers who know your regular hours.
In the silent kitchen, you situate yourself atop the recently wiped down stainless prep table, a bottle of sake in one hand and Kita’s teacup in another. A shot glass is much too small for your preferences.
“Cheers,” you raise your glass in the air. This might be your sixth one, so just the image of your hand and solo teacup is enough to make you giggle. “This one is to…”
Your gaze is glassy and there’s no one here, but the alcohol reminds you that you’re not lonely. An image of Osamu appears before you like an apparition and the sight brings on a void of yearning. You throw back the shot and quickly pour yourself another.
“To you.” This time you clink the tea cup against the bottle, already hollow in just one sitting. When the burn dies down and settles in the pit of your stomach, you begin to kick your feet.
“Hey,” you say softly. “Haven’t spoken to you in a while. Think about you every day though.”
It’s weird because you thought that with this place being saturated by Osamu’s very essence, you’d find his face everywhere you look. He’s more of an idea now, lately. A feeling you carry, memories that you play before you go to sleep. It’s difficult to accept because it feels like you’re losing him. The old Osamu, the one you knew, the one you loved. The other one in Osaka, Kita’s accidentally slipped that he likes to read as a pastime and that they’d recently visited Panama. Osamu never bought books unless they were cookbooks and that was more for aesthetic than anything. And the one you knew had never been to Panama, more so even mentioned it at all.
What you have left is the remains of his legacy and the bare bones of a former flame. You crack open another bottle. Here’s another shot to that.
“Life sucks by the way. I don’t blame you for it. I just wanted you to know. This wasn’t my dream. Yeah, I can hear you. You know, you know. But I haven’t told you in a while so you’re going to hear me say it again. I just wanted a cushy, IT job. I’d be your sugar mommy and force you on vacations, pay you for any lost wages. Any reason to have you all to myself. That’s what was supposed to happen.”
Another shot to missed opportunities. That one has you feeling woozy that you have to lay on your side but your drunken mind fails to realize how cold the stainless steel would be against your cheeks. It makes you squeal and then you can’t help but giggle, laughing at your own stupidity. That’s what’s nice about inebriation. Instead of being so serious about yourself, you can just laugh.
“And in the middle of it all, I knew that one day, I’d get absorbed into it. That’s just what you do. You say Atsumu is charismatic, but I don’t think you ever realized the power you had in just being. People get caught up in it and that includes me. And I imagined myself working hard so I could leave early from work just so I could help you in the kitchen. And then working part time until eventually, we woke up together and ran it together and did it all. Together. As a family. Ma would help when she has the time but you know her. She’s got clubs and activities and neighborhood responsibilities. And Atsumu would try and hang out but not do any work so we’d just ignore him until he ended up whining his way into the kitchen. I didn’t imagine…”
You look around the backroom. It’s nothing like how Onigiri Miya used to look. There are some items you’ve inherited like the pots and pans with their grease-stricken bellies and the three step ladder with The Little Giant (Akaashi actually wanted to throw this one away but ladders are surprisingly expensive) labeled on the top step. Everything is paltry pickings compared to the care Osamu had when working with his suppliers. It was hard enough with Kita’s endorsement to find something within your budget so you’re left with limp greens and off brand soy. And no Osamu.
Time for another shot. Should you make a game of it? Every time you thought you felt sorry for yourself, should you?
“No,” you giggle as you get up, answering your own question, “then I’d get really drunk and you’d get mad at me for that. Anyways,” you shoot it, neck craning back so swift it makes you dizzy. Your body bends wilted just like the spring onions you were talking about and you have to close your eyes, groaning and giggling, unable to discern discomfort from pleasure.
“Mmmm, what was I saying? I don’t know.” Suddenly, you’re crying. There’s a mess on the prep table that you have no idea how to clean. Over a year now and you’re still not over Osamu and you’re missing the rest of the Miyas especially too.
“This is so hard and fuck, I feel so alone.” It’s heartbreaking to hear how much you pity yourself when there have been so many people in your life that have supported you. Like Akaashi who has dealt with your disaster tendencies and Shizuku and the neighbors and everyone that has made this possible.
But they can’t fill what you’ve secretly been trying to reclaim. Of a family that had loved you, had accepted you with open arms. The ones who held you when you needed them most but… Fuck. You just weren’t enough. You lacked the strength to hold their pain, so much so just by being, by existing, you burdened them.
And maybe this had been a ploy to simply gain approval and find some self-worth again, to show them that the love you have has value. It had been distracting enough while you and Akaashi prepared for the grand opening but only for so long until you fell into this sort of misery again. How long would the next pocket of happiness last? Could you find a stable source of bliss ever again?
Sometimes, as difficult as it is to think, you wish you never…
No, you shake your head adamantly. For all this anguish, for all the ache you’ve accidentally caused the Miyas, you want to selfishly keep all the memories, even if Osamu has to forget, even if you know how it ends. You don’t want to change a thing.
You grab the extra aprons in the back except for the black apron on the last hook closest to the back alley door and slump into the office chair in the back nook. It was a simple office with just a desk and a file folder cabinet. You cover yourself with the aprons, your impromptu blankets as you wait for the inebriation to tide over. The open sake bottle stays on the prep table with the finished one and your used tea cup and you make a mental note to hide your drinking from Akaashi who’s been passively limiting your intake lately.
You fall into a light sleep when a meowing out the alley door rouses you. The office chair snaps as you ungracefully rise. There’s remnants of your misery in the form of crusts at the corner of your eyes that you blearily wipe away.
He stares up at you with a single meow as a greeting when you open the door. The cat sits on his paws like a well mannered customer waiting to be let in. A gray puffball like a ball of lint straight from the dryer, his gold eyes blink up at you and maybe it’s the hour or your halfway sober state or just life in general because you think it’s a sign.
Many of the cats had left when Osamu did too, venturing into more fruitful alleyways that can get them the fixings that they. You’re quick to pick him up but you do it a little aggressively that his limber body bends to evade your hands. Instead, he enters o.mo.ide and you’re able to lure him in with a few slices of fish.
Akaashi is not amused when you get home, especially considering the late hour and cat in your hands.
“No,” Akaashi greets, eyes hardened, aimed at the feline creature who has taken to resting his chin into the crook of your elbow.
“But, Akaashi, look at him!” You turn your body to the side so he can witness his complete cuteness.
The man is not impressed, only closing his book, an index finger marking the pages he left off, and crossing his arms. “No. You can hardly take care of yourself.”
“But they’re low maintenance,” you mention the fact you had quickly googled before unlocking the front door, “and he was crying outside our door because he was so hungry.”
Your roommate weighs the cat with his eyes and before he can complete his calculations, you add, “if I wasn’t there, he would have starved. He needed me.”
Akaashi finds something in your expression and you think it’s this new energy, this purpose outside of yourself or Osamu and after a drawn out glare, he finally sighs. It’s a world weary sigh, the kinds only parents of rowdy and impossible children should only make and you take note that you’ll make it up to him somehow.
“Okay, fine,” he extends his hand for your new friend to sniff, “what’s his name?”
You smile, “Mumu.”
An homage to your boys, your favorite twins, and Akaashi cannot help but sigh again.
But Mumu quickly becomes your new best friend, much to his benefit. Even though Mumu never quite opens up to him, he has to worry about you less and you spend more of your time laboring efficiently at work so you can go home and play with silly things like lasers and a little rattle ball he likes to roll around. There’s energy to do your share of household chores now, and despite the slow trickle of business lately, you’re unbothered.
At the end of the day, the success of the business does not define you or your love for Osamu.
The stability lasts only for a few months because you arrive home unannounced, closing the shop early when the pelting monsoon keeps people locked in their homes.
You opted to take responsibility for the day, allowing Akaashi a break. His trust in you has slowly renewed considering it’d been a while since you dipped into the restaurant’s liquor stash. You knew he’d understand the shortened hours considering the weather but he hadn’t been prepared because when he got home, he was watching a livestream MSBY volleyball match. There was this understanding that had been established when he moved in because the both of you knew that you’d be powerless to the demise.
When you see Osamu on TV, that split second the camera had panned to him, you felt gravity warp. Your heart constricted and condensed while it felt like that floor beneath you had slipped away and you were just as helpless as any other leaf victim to the storm.
Akaashi tries to turn off the TV, but you manically topple over him, not wanting to miss what little camera time he might have.
“I don’t think this is good for you,” Akaashi’s eyes doesn’t leave you as you continue to watch the game. You agree, but you can’t strip your eyes away from the stream. You can’t believe what you’re seeing and you have to continuously wipe away your tears just to be sure, to ascertain that what you’re viewing is really true. It’s him. It’s him and this is the closest you’ve seen him, the closest he’s been to this home in basically two years and he looks so different.
“He grew out his hair,” you observe.
All you can do right now is play spot the difference. What parts of him do you still know? What is gone forever? Osamu’s hair is near shoulder length and you think he might have gained Atsumu’s salon habit because it’s curlier and fluffier than you knew. The color in his eyes have lost their luster, making them appear darker like a smoky quartz and he’s bigger. He’d always had a stronger upper body but you can tell he’s far more defined than you’d last seen him. He looks. Good.
You feel so small knowing how well he’s moved on without you. There’s always this small spark of hope that can’t help yourself from holding onto but seeing him on the screen, living a dream that he had once left behind, you figure it must be your turn to be abandoned for something else.
“He looks good,” you nod, trying to be strong. Because that’s all you’ve wanted. You’ve wanted him to be ok, to live out the life he desired, whatever that may be and regardless of how it involved you. “He looks good. I’m so–”
“You don’t–”
“–proud of him.”
The admittance makes you burst, diving head first onto the floor and crying into the rug. Mumu comes to rest between your legs, wary of Akaashi as he does his best to console you which alternates between a hand down your back and simply hovering over your figure.
But then you hear the announcer and how the music stops, and immediately your head lifts up because you know what the sound of those footsteps mean.
Miya Atsumu is on court, serving the ball with just as much assured confidence as you had left him. He passes to his brother where they easily make a point and you watch the two boys celebrate. The camera eats it up, their facial expressions, the way they hold each other in a solidified joy, and you see it. You see the true reason he’s left this all behind. This was the life he was meant to share.
And you were never meant to be a part of it.
It was delusional of you to think that their bond had enough space for you to fit in.
Of course, as much as you tell yourself Osamu’s happiness is the most important thing to witness, it still sends you on a spiral that neither Akaashi or Mumu can bring you out of. Business slows down when you can’t provide proper service and Akaashi struggles to pick up the labor you can’t complete. Days pass in a haze where you burn things by accident and your mindlessness has you putting in two servings of soy instead.
You wallow in your sheets, so worn that the Osamu’s essence has filtered through the gaps and all that’s saturated it is your misery. Mumu leisurely snoozes beside you, happy to keep you company.
Akaashi tries to persuade you out of bed with ice cream.
You shuffle to the side of the bed pressed against the wall and tuck yourself into the crevice, “no thank you.”
He ignores you and opens the door and you whine, noisy and petulant. “This one is from Shizuku and Hayashi. They’ve missed you.”
You instantly sit up, interested because Hayashi’s ice cream had been a favorite of Osamu’s. Whenever he’d have a bad day and their schedules lined up, the two men with their solid stature would gossip in the alleyway, the brick wall separating them. One would be devouring an onigiri while the other relished the fox shaped ice cream he’d always be given as payment.
You’d peek your head out the alley door whenever you could never find Osamu in the kitchen or in his office. The alley was the only other place he’d be and Hayashi would prompt you to come out, sit and gossip with them. He’d leave so he could serve you an ice cream of your own, but you suspect he’d take longer on purpose so that you two could spend some time alone.
(“Have you heard about Shizuku and Hayashi?” Osamu asks once the confectioner steps back into his building. Your response comes for the back of your throat, a soft hum while busy licking the dessert your boyfriend offered. He laughs when he sees you nibble off the candy eye of the animal, leaving him a little lopsided but far more endearing. “Damn, I said ya could give it a try, not eat all of it.”
“I was hungry and you weren’t inside.”
“Ya could have made yaself some food. I’ve taught you enough to be self-sufficient.”
You shake your head immediately, “doesn’t taste the same. Stop changing the subject. What’s going on with Hayashi and Shizuku?”
Despite all the time you’ve spent with him, all the different faces and expressions you’ve been gifted to witness, his smile still disarms you. It’s the right combination of conniving and whimsy that has your heart traipsing the edge of a cliff.
“I was talking to the Grandma that’s got the okonomiyaki shop right there, ya know?” He points with his ice cream whose lifespan is slowly disappearing, “and she told me how she went into Hayashi’s shop and he had a full bouquet of flowers.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I wonder who got it for him.”
Osamu snorts, “Shizuku obviously. Who else would have?”
“Osamu,” you give him a discriminatory look, “are you starting rumors.”
“No, hear me out. Shizuku came by yesterday and was asking me for some cooking tips.”
“You?”
“Yeah, we have a truce right now. The onigiri won her over.” You giggle, snatching another bite from Osamu’s hand. He’s too busy telling his story to even admonish you. “And she was telling me she planned on making grilled mackerel and guess what Hayashi had for dinner last night apparently.”
You hum forcibly, drawing it out and giggle when Osamu gets irritated with you. “Mackerel?” He nods and the image of those two makes you laugh.
Hayashi’s just like the ice cream he serves, a man who longs for the richer things in life. He has women swooning out of his restaurant with his velvet words and Shizuku is a woman who knows what she wants, spritely and tough. She’d be perfect to keep him in line.
“Now that I think about it, they’re surprisingly good for each other.”
Osamu agrees, “Grandma says Hayashi needs to lock it in and get married.”
“Shizuku’s a catch! He’d be wrong not to.”
Your statement dulls the mood because Osamu turns quiet. He hands you his ice cream for you to finish, Hayashi forgotten, and his hands clasp together, right pad of his thumb running over the back of his left. His side profile is soft, round cheeks over a strong jaw.
“Ya know that I–”
“We don’t have to get married for me to know that you love me,” you say quickly. You don’t want him to finish the thought because he gets caught up in the guilt a lot. You’re not certain what it exactly is aside from the fact that he doesn’t want your future to be tied down to one as unstable as his, as if marriage would be the only thing that could permanently hold the two of you together. As far as you know, he’s all you want for the rest of your life and Osamu makes you feel like he thinks the same.
Your admittance relieves the weight on his back. He straightens up, a thankful expression on his gaze when he rolls an arm out to wrap around you. You fit right into the crook of his body, pleasantly warm with your ice cream.
“I love ya, I really do.” You nod. “One day, when I get my shit together, I promise I’ll make ya mine for real.”
He says it like you’re not his already. He says it like this relationship is less than the ones acknowledged by law or the gods or whoever presides over the validity of unity.
He says it like he really does love you.)
Thinking about it makes you cry despite Hayashi’s ice cream. He artfully crafted the gift in a pint that he must have bought from the store because you’ve never seen him sell take-home products. A frog decorates the surface complete with blush, large, round eyes, and the brightest of smiles. Usually the confectionery is an immediate remedy but it looks like your sorrows have fallen so deep that its effects are hardly uplifting. Akaashi hands you a letter made of cardstock in a saturated red and shaped like a heart.
“What’s this?”
“Open it,” is all he replies.
You do as he says and find a poorly drawn replication of what you assume is you, serving a triangular item to a smaller stick figure human.
“That’s from Asako. She missed you when you left early today.”
Asako is the little girl who orders a plain onigiri with extra sesame seeds. Exxxxtrraaaa she likes to say and you entertain her, seeing who can lengthen the word the longest. It’s an effortless game that comes with a high reward of giggles. She comes in on Fridays when her grandparents pick her up from school. They didn’t know of Onigiri Miya then so you never thought much of them, but clearly, she had thought of you.
“I understand that we opened up o.mo.ide in order to commemorate Myaa-sam and everything he’d done for this community, but have you ever stopped and thought that in the process, you’ve integrated into it yourself?”
You hadn’t. You’d been so deeply absorbed by your own troubles that you had never bothered to even look outside of yourself or Osamu.
“We’re operating at a loss right now, but there are people like Asako that rely on us to stay open. And so help me, I need you too. We promised to do this together and I refuse to let you abandon me.”
“Oh… oh, Akaashi, I’m so–” you’re forced speechless by your own guilt.
“Don’t apologize. Just.” Akaashi searches through his vocabulary, “just get better. Have you ever thought about therapy?”
Akaashi introduces you to his therapist but after two sessions, you find that the way he gels his hair back and the nasal hums he provides every time you confide in him is unsettling. The journey through therapy is not so much a journey but more like an illegal obstacle course formed with bottomless pits and thorny vines and a portable bed.
It’s physically draining and mentally exhausting that you need a nap most days. Akaashi hardly yells at you anymore when you fall asleep in the office chair while on break as long as he knows you have an appointment scheduled at the end of the week.
You go through three more therapists. This fourth one, she’s on thin ice, but you’re five months in and she’s managed to get you to stay. She encourages you to reach out to the people you love on your own and to make time for them every week.
Now you spend time teaching Mumu new tricks. He’s mastered the command ‘sit’ and is also very good at laying down. You’ve yet to teach him much else though. Monday mornings are for mahjong with Granny. Sweet as she is, that woman is a good liar and to this day, you still haven’t won a game. According to Kita, no one has yet to beat her. You’ve extended tea dates with Shizuku into dinners after you and Akaashi close. Most of the time Hayashi is there and despite Akaashi’s indifference to their relationship, every night you gossip about the way his hands would linger around her waist or how he’d whisper something in her ear while they washed dishes. When Asako visits, you untie your apron and give her grandparents a break. Only when she is done with her meal, you walk her into the back where you tell her to mind her step and you and lift her over the wall so she can knock on Hayashi’s back door for an ice cream.
People gradually enter your lives, ones that you didn’t have courage to see. With a warning text sent like an afterthought, it’s a welcome surprise to find Bokuto seated on top of your kitchen table, towering height even more pronounced, while Akaashi showcased his skill in a new apron.
“Oh?” you say and at the sight of Akaashi’s expression, all you do is smile and wish them a good time. If there is a time that Akaashi shouldn’t be burdened by you, it would be now. You are in the process of healing after all.
Suna and Aran eventually visit, dragged along by Kita. His small build compared to the two athletes make an awkward remeet amusing.
Suna scruffles your head and cups the fat of your cheeks as a greeting, “hey, Bug. Nothing kills you, huh?”
You’re grateful when Aran saves you, pulling you into a deep hug that soothes your soul. He lifts you up once just to hold you closer, and when he’s done, they all apologize for not visiting you sooner. It was shame, they admitted. Because for Osamu, they were willing to do anything to make him feel better, even if it was to perpetuate lies.
You’re at a space now where you understand because for Osamu, you know you would and will do anything for him too. No one talks about him though. No one dares mention any Miya first, and finally, you’re not compelled to bring them up either.
Of course, it’s just as tumultuous of a ride, even more so now that you’re more aware of your issues. Some days, the social vigor of running a restaurant is so draining that all you can do is keep your head down in the back. Count inventory and roll orders whenever Akaashi places them in. Sometimes it’s even harder than that, where you end up at the convenience store with one bottle of sake. Usually the guilt hits you half a bottle in and you end up pouring the rest over the nearest drain. This time, halfway isn’t nearly enough to ease the pain.
With the amount of volleyball players that have re-entered your life, an old interview of Osamu’s is in your recommended videos to watch. You can’t not click it when the thumbnail is a closeup top angle of his face, long hair pulled into a messy bun.
He stands the same with hands on his hips and in a wide stance but even the way he speaks sounds different. Same voice, different person. Different words.
The comments prove that he has a lot of fans from all over the world. They shout words of affection, recount the best games they’ve witnessed him in and no one mentions a single word about Onigiri Miya.
You’re at a point in your life now that any sort of Osamu brings on a general longing. You miss him so much you’re willing to take whatever you can have.
The realization makes you feel like you’ve lost him again because this place, the venue where you labor yourself until your back is broken despite your lack of knowledge had been a huge part of him. Now it is all lost to his pro volleyball glamor.
Onigiri Miya Osamu will eventually fade from existence. Once more, you begin grieving.
Despite your coping methods, it takes a long time to build yourself out of your rut. The gloom lasts for days and life has a predilection for stacking up your misery.
“Miya–”
Akaashi doesn’t have to finish his sentence. The impact already hits your stomach at the surname. It doesn’t matter which Miya it is. A Miya has stepped foot into this building, the first time since the fire. Suspense boils in your gut and its noxious fumes cut the breath from your lungs.
You’ve thought about this moment in great lengths, anxiously in bed or idle thoughts as you wait for the train. Preparation has never been your strong suit though. The fact is clear with the condition of your restaurant that struggles to even get by.
Blonde hair glistens against the backdrop of an afternoon sun and distracts you from the bells that ring when he opens the door. He glances around the walls with his mouth agape, focusing mostly on the origin story next to the host stand. It’s just a few old newspaper clippings of articles and one image of Osamu’s face. It was one of your few stipulations. He must always be there to greet the customers.
When Atsumu’s gaze finally finds yours, you can’t help but grip the towel tighter in your hands. Misplaced anger simmers right behind your tightly pursed lips. His face is so similar. It’s the closest anyone could get to a clone, and the distinct features you’ve been searching for, the ones that belong to the Osamu you once knew, are not there.
It’s a lot. It’s been a bad couple of weeks.
But Atsumu doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know that you’ve worked yourself raw and instead of building calluses, all you've done is made yourself tender.
He passes the backline and you find yourself taking a step back towards the display case as he crosses your first line of defense. He acts like nothing’s changed, that he’s still got free reign of the place and maybe it hasn’t. When he pulls you in, when he mutters ‘I love ya’ and ‘I’m so sorry’ over and over again, you fall apart in his arms.
You fist his shirt at the chest and sob in a way you haven’t allowed yourself since the hospital, since you’d seen any of the Miyas last. You cry into his chest, condense the past years you’ve had to make do with just your hands or sleeves or pillows. There’s rage and pity, but most of all, there is relief. Because as much as Akaashi has sat beside you while you mourned, and how everyone had gathered to remind you of your worth, they could never fill the space that any Miya left behind. None of them understood what it was like to lose Osamu. Not Myaa-sam, or Chef, or Oji-Samu. Youhad borne that misery alone.
You can’t fault Osamu for not choosing you. And Mama Miya has tried reaching out despite your lack of response.
But Atsumu, he could have stayed. You thought there was kinship there, a shared love for his brother. You thought you could have shared the sorrow too. Instead, he’d whisked away his family to Osaka to escape any reminder of the previous life he lived. He took everything and he left you behind.
Atsumu follows you to the ground when you literally fall apart in his arms. He hugs you tighter and he ignores the stack of napkins shelved right next to you, knowing that his shirt is more than enough.
Atsumu is eventually able to get you to a park near the restaurant once you calmed down. You both lay next to each other on the grass and the sun’s power is too strong for your swollen eyes. You have to balance your water bottle over them as shade. Atsumu offers the sunglasses he likes to keep clipped to the collar of his shirt. You accept it cautiously, wary of taking too much.
“I’m sorry.”
His apology is overwhelming and the corners of your eyes overflow, unprepared.
“Don’t,” you sputter out when you have the breath, a sting clinging to the bridge of your nose, “don’t. I can’t take it. Say something else.”
“I–” the way he blunders means he must have prepared a speech and now you’ve thrown a wrench in his plans. “I… uh. It’s good to see ya.”
“Oh, gods. Why are you even here?”
“I wanted to see ya,” he answers lamely.
There’s still anger in your chest and for the past couple of years, you’d been aiming that ire at Akaashi unjustly. Atsumu’s expression from the day at the hospital still keeps you up sometimes and it’s taken months of therapy for you to realize that his emotions were also misplaced. You’d dealt with pieces of the guilt and there’s still a lot that you need to address, but you understand now, that the burden of being was never yours alone to bear.
“Now? When you’ve had all this time?”
“I know. I–” he stops himself from another apology. You’re grateful he’s grown the maturity to keep his mouth shut when asked. “I just wanted to prepare ya.”
“For what?”
“Samu went no contact on me.”
You rise to your elbows in shock, worry prickling prickling your heart, “and Ma?”
“Not Ma,” he shakes his head quickly. “He calls her sometimes, not enough, but more than me.”
“Why?”
Atsumu breathes deeply, worn and weary. He brings his arms back and rests his head on them, eyes up at the sky watching a kite flown by two children, probably siblings. “Why fucking not, ya know?”
“No, Atsumu, I wouldn’t know when you basically went no contact on me.”
Atsumu pinches his bottom lip between his front teeth. Through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you can see the way they lighten from the pressure. He sighs again.
“I deserve this, I know. But Osamu didn��t. I fucked up but I had no clue what I was doing. Ya gotta understand. Ya were there and ya saw him and how beaten down he was and maybe I did put blame on everyone but myself. I hated Onigiri Miya for even getting him caught up in that sort of mess, and when his dreams lined up with mine, I figured it would be okay. We could leave it all behind. I tried to play God with my own brother’s life and he let me. Everyone did.”
“He listened to you?”
Atsumu shakes his head, “crazy, right? He was lost and unsure, but I was confident, ya know? I just felt so certain I was doing the right thing and I think that’s the only reason why he let himself be led all this way.”
“So what changed?”
“Are ya kidding?” Atsumu looks at you, and when he realizes you don’t have a clue, he turns to face you. “The answer is you.”
It’s a fucked up thing for Atsumu to say. The words erupt an ache in your chest. You curl into yourself, bring your knees up so that you flinch away from the pain but Atsumu grabs hold of both of your hands. He grips tightly in an attempt to siphon the pain.
“A love like yours ain’t something easy to forget.”
You remember the hospital, “that’s what Ma said.”
“It’s exactly what she told him when he left. I don’t know how he found out, but I saw that he looked up Onigiri Miya the day before he left and he’s been gone since. For about two weeks now, I think.”
“No,” you shake your head, closing your eyes to soften the blow of his words but even in the darkness, a stinging, buzzing pain wracks through your body. It’s everywhere all at once but Atsumu holds you through it.
“I love ya. I promise, I do. There wasn’t a day I didn’t regret what I did, but believe me when I tell ya. I do. I love ya,” He takes your hands that have been bunched up into fists and presses them onto the soft skin below his eyes where it’s sticky and wet. “And I’m so sorry I had to put ya through this and made ya go through this all alone, so if ya moved on, if ya got someone else, I understand and I’ll figure something out.”
You try to pull yourself from his grip but Atsumu holds onto you, head bent in repentance and the sincerity of it all spouts more tears.
“I’ll handle Osamu if that’s the case. I know Akaashi’s a really good guy so–”
You take your conjoined hands and jab him across the forehead. Atsumu sputters in shock, letting you go in the process while he tries to soothe the pain.
“Does it look like I’ve moved on, idiot?” You knock soft fists into his chest like a child. “Would I be crying in what I consider my own brother’s arms in a park if I moved on?”
“I just wanted–”
“And Akaashi? Fucking Akaashi? He’s a good guy,” you mock, irritated, “of course he is. Shut up. You know I’m in love with your brother.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Stop hitting me. I said I was sorry already.”
You make sure to put some extra force in that final punch, “you’re going to say it for the rest of your life.”
Atsumu nods gratefully, “of course.”
“And,” the words hurt coming out, “and don’t run off on me again.”
What makes the tears slip this time is forgiveness. Atsumu holds your hand against his chest where you can feel his heart. You’ve missed him, longed for him just as much as you have Osamu and slowly, you feel yourself start to heal.
“He might not need a brother right now, but I do.”
Atsumu kisses you on the cheek and pulls you close. He holds you in his arms with the same exact care he had for Osamu in the hospital, with the same protectiveness of an elder brother.
Finally, you feel understood.
Atsumu spends his off season in Hyogo where you find out Ma has moved back. Akaashi doesn’t take kindly to a change in routines, but he begins helping out where he can along with Ma.
When Ma first sees you, all she can do is hold you at arm’s length, picking her vernacular apart with words that she wanted to say. You just shake your head and let yourself be swallowed by her cardigan comfort. She encourages you to come to family dinner and you have to ask if Akaashi is invited too. She pats his cheek and says of course like the question was unnecessary to begin with.
The world shifts almost exactly the way you imagined it. Life has a funny way of doing that. Atsumu helps around the restaurant and Ma stops by with some of her friends after an activity. She meets Asako who she adores and is adored just as equally. Ma takes ice cream duty from you while Atsumu, because it’s his off season, likes to overstay his welcome at your apartment. Akaashi kicks him out and the athlete tries to use Mumu as an excuse. Mumu, unfortunately, likes Atsumu even less than Akaashi.
Sometimes Atsumu will try to broach the topic of contacting Osamu, something that both you and Ma are against. Osamu has been through enough, you both reason. And he’s probably had his fill of someone telling him what to do.
The restaurant fills and though you know that yours or Akaashi’s food cannot compare, the laughter spills out the doors from friends and family and neighbors that continuously visit. They manage when you accidentally don’t order enough fish, opting for broth and rice and when you run out of beverages, someone offers to run to the convenience store to buy drinks.
It’s not a perfect venue, but it embodies Osamu’s very being, a place that has become a home.
One day, Akaashi is out of town and Atsumu helps you while he’s gone. He’s not as focused as your usual business partner, whose eyes continuously drift out onto the streets and he even leaves early when you haven’t finished clearing up for the day.
“Alright, I gotta go but I’ll lock the door,” Atsumu runs off quickly. “Ya can handle this, right?”
You look at the stack of dishes and the ready to go items that haven’t been put away yet. It’s not much, but it would certainly be easier if he stayed. Unfortunately, his question is apparently rhetorical because the man does not wait for an answer. He reiterates his farewell and with a jingle, the door is shut.
“Okay,” you say, blinking at his figure that eventually passes a corner and disappears. You scan your surroundings, running a mental image of what would be the most efficient process. Wipe down the tables, you decide. Some haven’t been bussed yet so you head over with a fresh rag and empty tray.
Atsumu likes to turn up the music the moment the o.mo.ide closes as a way to decompress. You hum along. It’s a mindless process now that you’ve done it so many times. Clear the tables. Sanitize the tables. Sanitize the chair. Bend down eye level with the table and make sure you haven’t missed any crumbs. You’re not even thinking, just lost in the routine and it’s why the sound of the bell startles you.
It’s so like Atsumu to forget to lock the door. You compose yourself with a slow inhale and prepare for an irate customer who might argue at your innocent error, but the breath expels from your mouth.
You stand there stupidly, hands holding your chest like you’re about to dive backwards into water. It’s that feeling, where two characters catch eyes on a crowded street. Despite everything that has happened and all that separates you, he holds you captive. Your feet are planted to the ground and everything, heart, mind, body, and breath is under his power.
“O – Oh…”
Even saying his name feels foreign because as much as you’ve thought of him, you can’t remember when was the last time you did. It feels foreign on your tongue and you can’t blurt anything out but the first letter, and you witness his demeanor change.
“Osamu,” you say only because you think it’ll make him smile. It does and because of it, you want to fall down on your knees.
Everything, everything that you had observed different about him, his hair that looks like he’s cut but is still longer than you remember, the cut of his jaw that’s sharper, his brows that he’d boast about being strong look trimmed, and even his choice of clothes is different, opting for a sleeveless tee over his favored oversized shirts, all of that is negligent because seeing him once more, you recognize he is still your Osamu.
“Hi,” he greets and your heart flutters. Was this really how it felt when you were falling in love because everything he does brings upon a desire that you doubt could ever be quelled. “Are ya closed?”
“Yes,” you answer honestly and the wilt of his face makes you overcompensate, “but– but it’s fine! You’re come in… I mean, oh…”
This is so fucking embarrassing. “You’re always welcome. Come in and have a seat wherever you want.”
He points at a bar seat with a head tilt. You nod and make sure to lock the door behind him. The bus tub, the rag, you forego it all and pass the swinging door that separates the register and eating area. Your hands perspire at the stress of perfection. It’s a foreign thing for him to be seated while you serve him and maybe it’s you overthinking, but it feels like he’s watching your every move.
Osamu quickly diverts his gaze when you turn around. His not so subtle glancing of the venue, head craned back as he looks at the decorations on the walls and the lighting fixtures you and Akaashi picked, amuses you but you try not to show it too hard. Osamu seems shyer than you’re used to. That’s okay. You’re nervous too.
“Did you come hungry?”
“I did.”
Ease washes over you. Thank the gods, that has stayed the same.
You apologize for the lack of options and Osamu tries to downplay the inconvenience. “It’s okay. I didn’t… Well I did, but I didn’t really come here to eat.”
“No?”
Osamu plays with a stray grain of rice between his fingers. He rolls the sticky piece into a ball, back and forth as he thinks of what he wants to say.
“No, I… To be honest, I didn’t think I was going to go inside.”
“Oh.”
“But I…” then he stops his rolling and he looks at you, like really looks at you. And whatever it is, you feel it too. “But I just had to.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Yeah, well, it took me all up until closing to work up the courage.”
“That’s okay,” you tell him. You pull up the stool near the rear register and situate yourself across from him. The boundary that separates you two is familiar, 76 centimeters of space that you know by heart and it makes conversation flow smoother. “I’m happy you came at all. How was your day?”
“Shit.”
The answer takes you by surprise, him too by the way he stops chewing, lips puckering close together as he ruminates whether or not meant to say those words. But he owns them, and continues on.
“My smoothie spilled all over my cup holder.”
“Oh no. Did you ask for another one?”
“Pretty sure they tried to sabotage me by giving me a cracked cup.”
You break in the most unexpected way. A smile splits your lips and a giggle strikes through your chest. Everything feels so similar, so weightless. It feels like a dam has been broken with just a couple of words.
“It ain’t funny.”
You agree, “I know. It’s the worst.”
“Then why are ya laughing?”
“I don’t even know. It’s not funny at all.”
“It’s not. I had to stuff a bunch of napkins in there.”
“No, it’s going to get sticky!”
“What else was I supposed to do?”
“Cry.”
Osamu sputters, rice flying from his mouth. He’s embarrassed for only a millisecond, fearful of your reaction, but all it does is make you bend over, sincerely losing control of your body. Osamu joins you, laughing at who knows what, but you’re grateful. For as much pain misery brings, it takes so little for you to be happy.
“Fuck,” he says once he’s able to catch a breath. He says quietly with wonder and it has your giggles soften to match his energy. “I’ve imagined every way this meeting could go.”
Your heart constricts like it’s being pinched from the bottom. “Is it everything you thought it’d be?”
“No,” Osamu shakes his head genuinely. You almost apologize. “I thought I’d mess it all up but,” he looks at you and it’s the gaze you had been searching when he had first woken up all those years ago. A quiet ardor, soft around the edges but saturated in passion, “but I didn’t expect it to be so easy.”
“Stop,” you have to hide your lips.
Osamu doesn’t understand, back straightening, “what?”
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Saying those things.”
His lips pucker themselves out, “why can’t I?”
“Because,” you blink furiously, willing the tears away because you want to remember this with clarity, “you’re making me too happy.”
He grins too, but it’s still shy as he bends his head down, nodding slightly as he does, “how do ya think I feel?”
There’s a calmness that settles now that your mania has subsided. Your eyes appraise, trying to find more topics to talk about so he can stay just a little longer.
“Are those cigarettes?” you observe the square box in his breast pocket.
He nods as he pulls them out, holding them in his hands as if they were novel.
“Are you smoking a lot?”
He looks at you curiously, “did I used to?”
The past tense makes you stumble, but you do your best to answer him honestly. “Sometimes. Only the bad days. That’s how we knew you were having a bad day because we’d smell them on you.”
He’d lean his chest against the railings like his body was too heavy, curved his body like a treble clef as he smoked. And often you’d find him in the alleyway, a cigarette in one hand and food for the cats in another.
“It’s crazy how I do shit without knowing the real meaning.”
You shrug, “habits are harder to break than memory.”
Osamu nods. A beat passes before he continues the conversation on his own.
“I’ve had this same pack since I left the hospital.” He opens it and reveals only a few sticks missing, “play with it for the most part but I’ll smoke one when I get overwhelmed. I dreamt of you once and my heart wouldn’t stop beating. I had to go outside and calm myself. Nearly gave Tsumu a heart attack when he noticed my bed was empty.”
“He’s a worrywort.”
The sound Osamu makes is not kind. There’s still animosity for his brother, “even more so now.”
“He means well.”
“Sure he does.”
“I’m sorry.”
Your apology takes him by surprise. Osamu shuts the pack and places it back in his pocket. “For what?”
“For, I don’t know.” A lot of things. For burdening him with faded memories, for not being who he needed, for not being enough, “for being in your dream.”
“What are ya saying? It was a good dream. It felt… nice.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he nods earnestly while looking at you. “I can’t explain it because I really don’t know the specifics, but it felt good. Made me wish I dreamed about ya more.”
The sunset is almost complete, dark orange hues streak the tile floor. Osamu’s been done eating for minutes now. With his plate clean and the conversation running its course, it feels like a good place for this to end. But you don’t think you can part with him just yet. A culmination of yearning and grieving and mourning and aching has led to this and you’ll be damned if it’s over now.
You hop off the stool and Osamu sighs. He matches your movements, slowly getting up, too. He looks ready to leave but you won’t let him go without trying. Not this time.
“Would you like to see the back?”
“Really?” his giddiness prompts yours.
“Yeah, of course.” You lead him to the back and grab your apron. Then you point at the black one on the last hook closest to the back alley door . “Take that apron.”
He hooks his finger around the neck, “this one?”
You nod. “Yeah, that one’s yours.”
He takes it in his hand, shy and foreign in his fingers. It’s different, clumsier, but it’s familiar enough to let your heart burn.
He pulls the fabric over his head and adjusts it along his shoulder. The apron is knotted up by habit, his hands reaching there after the three usual tugs and when he looks up, your stomach swirls at the sight of his beam.
He’s everything you’ve missed in more ways than one, but finally, thank gods, finally. He’s right where he belongs.
#reina.writeshaikyuu!!#haikyuu angst#miya osamu angst#miya osamu x reader#osamu x reader#haikyuu x reader#i think i’m going to have a drink now
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just curious about what your personal interpretation of the alastor charlie dad thing is. do you think he's being 100% sincere and it just comes up quickly cause of the small amount of episodes or are you in the it's a scam to make lucifer super angry camp?
tl;dr - I think he has ulterior motives and pissing off Lucifer is an added just a bonus.
I feel like Alastor has some growing fondness for the gang at the hotel, but he wouldn’t go out of his way for them - and I’m not sure he even would for people he considers his friends.
The show seems to imply he’s put some distance between himself and everyone.
Angel: He’s been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery.
We rarely see him attending group activities, even though he’s usually around. He doesn’t seem to eat with the rest of the gang - we see him having a drink on the balcony of the hotel before Sir Pentious attacks - then later, eating alone in his room when Vaggie comes to ask him to take care of the egg boys. (It’s an interesting contrast to Angel, who’s almost always lounging around on the couch on his phone.)
Even the night before the Extermination when everyone is spending time together, he’s hanging back with Niffty and says these two lines:
Alastor: It’s been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection.
Alastor: An enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed.
To me, that implies he doesn’t consider himself part of the collective - but he does like them, to some degree. And we see he’s capable of genuinely liking and caring for people, like Mimsy, if we take the relationship at face value.
But even Mimsy seems to think “friends” isn’t quite the right word for their relationship. She knows she can count on him to protect her and that he likes her company and admires her skill but the way she talks about Alastor seems to imply she sees him as somewhat self-involved:
Mimsy: Friends? Well, that’s your word not mine but I think it fits.
Mimsy: You don’t actually give a shit about this tacky place, do ya? Come on. I know you. You heartless son of a bitch.
And when she thanks him for getting rid of the loan sharks, there’s a lot of feed his ego and implying he’s big and strong and powerful and she’s weak and needs him: “what a fantastic show”, “thanks for helping little ol’ me”, “but you love taking care of me”. And that kind of relationship probably feels safe for someone like Alastor, who needs to feel in control.
His relationship with Rosie also seems to have some level of being transactional. She immediately tells him about a deal he could make and says he’s never done her wrong, implying they’ve worked together before to her benefit.
Rosie: Yo Alastor I got a primo connect on a guy with about eight blocks of territory and not enough goons to run it. Prime pickings for a deal to be made, my friend.
Rosie: And old Alastor has never done me wrong before.
He seems to even trust her enough to be upfront about his motives about Charlie with her (but that could be misdirection), saying she’s: “filled with potential that [he] can guide” after directly singing about how she’s powerful like her father.
As for Charlie, I think it’s hard for most people to not eventually come around to her in spite of her flaws, and I don’t think Alastor would be an exception.
But I think at the end of the day, Charlie is a means to an end and Alastor values that end more than he values his current relationship with her.
She’s the princess of hell, with all the power that comes with that. And when singing with Rosie, he mentions “like her daddy [Charlie] is very powerful” and “filled with potential that [he] can guide”.
And Vox himself worries about Alastor’s power if he strikes a deal with Charlie - which is why he sends Sir Pentious to the hotel to try and prevent it:
Vox: We have a problem. Alastor is getting close to little princess Morningstar. So our main concern now is ensuring that no deal is ever struck between Lucifer’s brat and that smiling freak.
Therefore, because Alastor seems to hold everyone at arm’s length, have transactional friendships, and ulterior motives with Charlie, I don’t think he’s being 100% sincere in Best Dad In Hell.
But I also don’t think he was necessarily lying. He is stepping into the role of the dad she desires because it benefits him. All she seems to want from her dad is someone who believes in her and will support her. And he is caring for her in that way if not a traditional sense.
His wording is letting Charlie (and the audience) draw their own conclusions from his actions.
And he never says how he feels about the idea of the hotel itself - he just says “Charlie has a unique vision” and that they’re “all very proud of her”. And we’ve seen he does seem to be proud of her and find her capable, whatever his motives - (to Rosie: “Surprised? Why I knew she could do it all along” “she’s filled with potential).
I don’t think Alastor has had a reason to grow attached to Charlie beyond passive fondness (“enjoyable collective to be around”).
But I think Hell's Greatest Dad is a turning point in Alastor and Charlie’s relationship for Charlie because she starts to see Alastor as a contrast to her father and recognizes the extent of how much he’s done. I think it’s also one of the main catalysts in why she was willing to make a deal with him. He’s shady af but he’s the devil you know.
As for why he does what he does with Lucifer, Lucifer threatens the role he’s established for himself in Charlie’s life (mentor, wish granter). And I think that's why he makes an effort to insert himself between them at every opportunity (we’ll give the tour TOGETHER) - and part of the reason he’s so annoyed by Husk interrupting. Because so long as he's antagonizing Lucifer, he can't insert himself back into his daughter's life.
And it's obviously really hard to tell from Alastor's expression how he feels during More Than Anything but to me the look was similar to the one he was wearing while the Egg Boys were annoying him before his eye twitches around them (similar to what he does with Lucifer while she's hugging Charlie).
wow that was a novel sorry lmao
#hazbin hotel#radioapple#appleradio#radio apple#apple radio#lucifer#alastor#charlie#meta#nunalastor asks
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Hi, I just read the Caitlin Clark x tennis reader. Would you possibly do a Caitlin Clark x volleyball reader, where the reader is more femme. Something along the lines of maybe reader plays for Texas vb and wins the championship.. sorry for the poor wording. Keep up ur amazing work!!
-anon
i would love too! again, i apologize for any inaccuracies in how i wrote the volleyball aspect of this, i’ve never played before so bare with me ! <3
Championship . CC
pairing: caitlin clark x reader
synopsis: caitlin supports you during your big win
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
you had been working your ass off this season. it was your senior year at the college you attended and your last year playing volleyball with your team, you were very overwhelmed to say the least. there were so many nights spent on the court late at night, trying to perfect every move and every technique. you desperately wanted to take your team to the championship and win this title for them.
so you pushed yourself to your limits, still trying to maintain your grades and personal life. caitlin, your girlfriend, was incredibly understanding of course. she knew what it was like to want to win so bad, so bad that it felt like you were going to lose your mind. but she kept you grounded. you had always been there for her with basketball, and she wanted to show you that same appreciation for your dreams.
she attended every single game, often making the trip with you for away games. she’d bring flowers for you on occasion for your big wins, and she’d tend to bruises on your knees from diving and scrapes on your arms. she was so incredibly good to you.
you were lucky to have someone who understood the stress of the game and how it felt to struggle with wanting to win and not let down your team.
your hard work had paid off this season, though. thanks to your team, your coach, your family and friends, and especially caitlin. you led your team to victory and you were now heading to the final game in the champions ship. of course, your training remained intensive up until the game, stretching you thin.
the night before your game, caitlin made sure to treat you to a small night in to help you relax. she set up a movie and dinner, tended to your aching shoulders, completely shifting all of her attention to you. when you had woke up the next morning to get ready for the big day, she had even helped you get ready to help keep your mind at ease.
“you know i can braid my own hair, right?” you were finishing up your makeup, putting on some mascara and the lip gloss cait had gotten you for your anniversary a while back. caitlin had walked into the bathroom, offering to do your hair for you so you didn’t have to worry about it.
“yea i know, but i want to do it for you this time” she smiled at you through the mirror “like my way of sending you good luck, then you’ll know i’m always with you even on the court”
“that’s so sweet, cait” you turned around, pecking her on the cheek “just don’t do it too tight, please”
so there she stood, towering over behind you, twisting the 3 strands of your hair into a braid. her tongue sticking out slightly as she stayed focused on getting it perfect, just how you liked it. when she was finished, she proudly showed it off to you. you thanked her again before changing into your uniform and grabbing your bag.
once you arrived to the court for the championship, you and caitlin walked down to the locker room so she could give you a quick pep talk and a final kiss goodbye. “you’re going to absolutely kill it, babe, good luck!”
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗
after ages of waiting in the locker room; getting warmed up, strategizing with your team, talking with your coach, it was finally time to head onto the court. you could hear the entire audience cheering as the announcers called on each one of your teammates, the anticipation for the game sat thick in the air.
the game started off well, everyone was quick on their feet, prepared for the opponent’s next move. you were probably having one of the best games in your career and you could just about feel that trophy in your hands. you had managed to hold a lead for the majority of the game, but within the last few minutes it tied, all boiling down to one last play.
you held your breathe as your teammate served the ball, watching as it sailed over the net. you stood ready, feet planted, heart racing, and determined more than you had ever been. the ball bounced back and forth over the net before eventually hurdling your way. your muscles tensed, eyes glued to the ball. you leapt, body a blur of motion, hand connecting with the ball in a perfect spike. Time seemed to halt as the ball soared over the net, bypassing the outstretched arms of the opposing team. the crowd erupted into cheers as you all watched the ball land on their court. you had scored the final point.
your team immediately surrounded you, lifting you up and cheering your name. there were so many tears and so many hugs as you all cherished the win of your last game together.
once the excitement died down with your team, you noticed caitlin on the side, making her way over to you. you smiled so big your cheeks hurt, running over to her as fast as you could. caitlin scooped you up into her arms, spinning you around from how fast you ran into her. your head buried itself into the side of her neck as you cried tears of joy, her arms squeezing you tight.
“i’m so fucking proud of you baby” she whispered in your ear, praising you gently and setting you back down on your feet “the best fucking player out there, hands down”
“thanks, cait” you beamed, pulling her back into another hug. “i can’t believe it”
“i can! you’ve been working your ass off for four years to get to this point! you deserve it more than anyone, YN” she said, watching how you bounced with excitement.
you and caitlin celebrated a little bit more on the court before you had to spilt to go talk to your friends and family, she waited patiently for you, observing how happy you looked taking pictures with the trophy and talking to your friends. it was such a rewarding sight to see, she was the most proud a girlfriend could be.
even when you had both arrived home, still buzzing with the post-win high. she showered you with praise and attention, making sure you knew how happy she was for you.
cait made you feel so special, no matter how sad the loss or how big the win. you were so privileged to have her at your side, supporting you through such an amazing collegiate career.
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Long Lost Morningstar - Part Three
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Pairing(s): Charlie x reader (platonic), Vaggie x reader (platonic), Emily x reader (platonic), Sera x reader (platonic), Charlie x Vaggie
Genre: Fluff/Angst/Betrayal
Warning(s): Cursing, lies, betrayal
Notes: This is the third installment of LLM. This part will be shorter than part 2 and will finally go over the trial and (Y/N)'s reaction the extermination. I'm going to be honest, I'm dropping my other hazbin mini series. This is only until I can find the time and motivation to write it. I'm really busy with school and work, and lately my obsession with Hazbin has started to die down. I still love the series and fandom, but that's just something that happens to me from time to time when I watch a new series or get into a fandom. It comes and it goes, and I've been reading a lot of hazbin stuff but now it's starting to feel like an obligation I've set for myself and it makes reading less fun and more like a chore. I have no doubt my obsession will come back when the 2nd season comes out. This happens will all the fandoms I am apart of - like right now, I'm obsessing over Avatar the last airbender again after rewatching the series (not the live action). Don't worry, I'll continue this series as I don't want this to end up unfinished. I have the outline pretty much written, but it will take time to finish - so, please, bare with me.
Singing Colors: Adam, Lute, Charlie, Emily, Sera, (Y/N).
Words: 1631
"If Hell is forever, than Heaven must be a lie!".
As the time of the trial drew closer, there seemed to be a few hiccups on Heaven's side of things.
The angel who was supposed to be the trial's stenographer got a nasty cold and all the replacements had their own responsibilities to attend to. The only angel available just so happened to be (Y/N) herself.
When one of the court angels asked (Y/N) if she could do it, she didn't hesitate to accept.
Now she had the perfect excuse to watch Charlie's trial without having to sneak in!
Imagine Sera's surprise and horror when she saw (Y/N) sitting at the stenographer's desk.
"(Y/n)? What are you doing here? Where's Angela?" Sera asked. She was a bit panicked, but did her best to hide it. (Y/N) smiled politely at the higher seraphim, clearly oblivious to Sera's rigid demeanor. "She got a pretty bad cold last minute and all of the other replacements were busy today; and since I was the only one who was available - here I am!".
Sera gave her an uneasy smile, "I see. Thank you for your help today, it's much appreciated". This was the last thing she wanted. The resemblance between (Y/N) and the Princess of Hell was very difficult to ignore and could raise questions if it wasn't for the stardust story Heaven fed everyone.
Sera had wanted to keep (Y/N) away from the trial in hopes of avoiding any contact between her and Charlie. She didn't want (Y/N) to accidently discover the truth about her lineage.
Sera loved (Y/N) like a daughter.
When (Y/N) was younger Michael would sometimes have Sera babysit while he attended to his more serious duties.
She practically helped raise her and she refused to let some misguided demon princess and her partner ruin that.
Unfortunately, the court needed a stenographer.
With no one else available, she was left with no other option.
Sera thanked (Y/N) for her hard work and for stepping in.
She gave the girl a gentle forehead kiss before leaving her to prepare for the trial.
It was only for today and once this pointless trial was over everything would go back to the way it was.
And (Y/N) would be none the wiser and away from that misguided influence.
However, things weren't as perfect as Sera had hoped for.
The moment Charlie and Vaggie entered the courtroom and saw (Y/N) sitting at the stenographer's desk, the two cousins eagerly waved at each other.
Sera's eyes widened in horror. No. This wasn't supposed to happen - it was the worse case scenario.
When did those two meet?!
She sighed in frustration already knowing that (Y/N) must have sought the girl out herself.
Dammit Emily.
(Y/N)'s curiosity was her biggest flaw and was going to end up getting her into serious trouble if not handled properly.
Sera quickly composed herself. No point in losing herself and catching any unnecessary attention.
She still had a trial to run and then she'll have a talk with (Y/N) later.
Now, (Y/N) was nice to just about everyone. She could get along with just about anyone she's ever met. But there was one person, or rather two, she just couldn't stand.
Adam and his little crony Lute.
These two irritated her to no ends with how high and mighty they acted. How either of them managed to stay in Heaven was beyond her.
Her father just told her to bare it, despite him also disliking the two of them - especially that narcissistic douchebag Adam.
(Y/N) did her best to hide her grimace whenever Adam spoke during the trial.
As the trial went on (Y/N) felt a little nervous when Charlie was shut down from making anymore definition references. She could see how nervous her poor cousin was getting.
When Charlie looked over at her, (Y/N) made sure to give her a small smile and mouthed, "You've got this".
This managed to help calm Charlie's nerves enough for her to regain her composure. Charlie got a little more confident when presenting Angel Dust, the hotel's first patron.
(Y/N) rolled her eyes when Adam spoke up again trying to discredit her cousin.
"Well if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into Heaven?".
Charlie's question stumped more than just Adam. (Y/N) had to take a moment to think - how does someone get into Heaven?
Being Heaven-born (Y/N)'s never had to be on the other end with humans who had to earn their place in paradise. And if someone as crude and vile as Adam can get into Heaven then what did it take for others, especially the damned who didn't deserve Hell - like children, for example.
Adam quickly wrote on a piece of paper before giving it to Vaggie to read aloud.
"'Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man?' - are you fucking serious?".
"Uh, yeah. Sure got me here, didn't it? Right, Sera?".
(Y/N) raised a brow. That's all it took to get someone into Heaven?
Charlie tried to argue Angel was doing all of those things, to which the court decided to observe Angel through the courtroom's orb. At first, things weren't looking good for Charlie when Angel gave into peer pressure.
(Y/N) bit her lip, silently hoping this would somehow take a turn for the better. She really wanted Charlie to show her hotel worked and for Adam to eat his words.
Luckily, things did start looking up when Angel took care of his friend, Nifty, and defended her from that awful moth demon.
"Then why isn't he here, huh?".
(Y/N) paused her typing - why isn't he here?
This started a whole argument at the unfairness of it all. How even those in Hell could be redeemed if only given the chance. (Y/N) and Emily saw the change in Angel and how he did everything on Adam's list.
"A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month".
. . . Wait what?
(Y/N) furrowed her brows in confusion. One month? What was he talking about?
"Gotta say I can't wait to-"
"Adam".
(Y/N) looked up at Sera, did she know what he was talking about? What the hell was going on?!
"Come down and exterminate you".
. . . WHAT?!
(Y/N) and Emily looked horrified at the shocking news.
"Wait!".
"Shit!".
(Y/N) and Emily fly over to Charlie, Vaggie, Adam, and Lute looking sadly at the orb showing the residents in Hell being mercilessly killed by the exorcists.
"What are you saying?"
"Let me get this straight".
"You go down there and kill those poor souls?".
"You didn't know?".
Charlie was shocked to hear that not all of Heaven knew about the exterminations. She was relieved to hear that her cousin didn't know and that she seemed to be against it.
"Whoops!".
"Guess the cat's outta the bag!".
"What's the big deal?".
(Y/N) and Emily turned and looked up at Sera.
"Sera tell us that you didn't know".
"I thought since I'm older, it's my load to shoulder".
"No".
"You have to listen, it was such a hard decision".
Sera flew down from her seat.
"I wanted to save you".
She took (Y/N) and Emily's hand in her own.
"The anguish it takes to, do what was required".
The hellfire reflecting in Sera's eyes unnerved (Y/N) and Emily - almost like she enjoyed the suffering and senseless murder of the sinners in Hell.
The two glared at Sera.
"To think that we admired you".
They tore their hands from hers and flew back away from her.
"Well, we don't need your condescension! We're not children to protect! Was talk of virtue just pretention? Were we too naive to expect you, to head the morals you're purveying?".
The two flew back down in front of the orb.
"That's what the fuck I've been saying!".
Charlie walked over to the two angel's grabbing their hands.
(Y/N), Charlie, and Emily moved up and stood on top of the orb showing the exorcists killing sinners.
"If Hell is forever, than Heaven must be a lie!".
"Emily! (Y/N)!".
"If angels can do whatever and remain in the sky!".
The three jumped down and stood before Sera.
"The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say! When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again!".
Things only continued getting worse with Charlie finding out Vaggie was an angel and an ex-exorcist, Sera's final ruling of no evidence of sinners being able to be redeemed, and Adam's threat of coming to their hotel first.
"Charlie, it will be okay! I'll find a way to help you - I promise!" (Y/N) called out before Charlie and Vaggie were forced to back to Hell.
After Sera had finished talking to Emily, she went after (Y/N) who had already left the courtroom.
"(Y/N)! Wait, please!" Sera begged grabbing (Y/N) by her wrist. "Please, let me explain!".
(Y/N) turned her head and glared at Sera with such intensity it sent shivers down the High Seraphim's spine. She's never seen (Y/N) look at her like that before.
It broke her heart to see the girl she's helped raise and thought of as a surrogate daughter look at her with such anger and disgust.
"Explain what, Sera?! That you've been here playing God and allowing the murder of sinners! They're already in Hell, what more could you possibly want?! They don't deserve this!" (Y/N) yanked her wrist from Sera's hold and flew away.
She couldn't believe this had been going on and she never even knew! Tears filled her eyes as she thought about her poor cousin. She knew needed to do something to help Charlie.
But first, she needed to see whether or not her father and the other archangels knew about this all along.
Taglist:
@soobryu @kyo-kyo1 @miyako-night20 @charliecharlie65 @unknow-sama @myluckymoon @lbcreations-blog @moonchaos18 @sirenetheblogger @jagharamira @el-hajj @azharyy @glowymxxn @itsmonicabc
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin charlie#hazbin lucifer#hazbin vaggie#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel vaggie#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin lilith#hazbin hotel lilith#hazbin hotel reader insert#charlie x vaggie#hazbin hotel emily#hazbin hotel sera#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel lute
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YOU GUYS!! i decided to get over myself and just write something super quick! i’m actually so nervous about this so if it’s bad let me know that this is NOT for me hahaha. anyways i did not proof read this because it was embarrassing to go back and try to read it. let me know what you think!!!! if i like writing i’ll will most likely make a new blog for it! also don’t mind the formatting i will figure it out one day. xoxoxo
Three times luke shows yn he loves her and the one time he finally says it.
One
luke walked quietly into his room after morning skate and smiled seeing yn snuggled into his side of the bed. he smiled to himself and walked over to her “hi lukey” she mumbled “hi pretty baby” he took her hand into his and kissed it. “i saw these on my way home and they made me think of you” yn smiled and looked at the bouquet of pink roses luke was holding. “thank you lukey they are beautiful” she said blushing. “they made me think of you” luke replied kissing her head softly. “i’ll put these in water and then we can nap” yn nodded watching luke walk out of the room. she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of luke thinking of her.
two
yn’s eyes hurt from studying for more than two hours. she sighed resting her head on top of her open text book. “baby you’re still out here?” luke questioned as he strolled into the living room rubbing his eyes of sleep. yn nodded and didn’t say anything. “it’s late baby why don’t we go to bed?” luke walked towards the table and put his hands on her shoulders “no luke i can’t. i need to pass this test” “i know baby but-“ “NO LUKE!” she snapped at him “you don’t get it luke you aren’t in school anymore” she said rolling her eyes “yn i wasn’t trying to upset you” luke said backing away from the table. yn suddenly felt extremely guilty watching her sweet boy back away from her “no lukey i’m sorry i didn’t mean to snap at you. you have every right to be upset with me” she had tears in her eyes as she said it. luke shook his head and grabbed her text book closing it “baby i’ll never be upset with you. you work so hard and i want you to know i’m here for you. let’s go to bed okay?” luke gently grabbed her arm helping her out of the chair and walking her into his room.
three
yn listened to the buzz of the crowd at the rock. it was the first game of the season that she finally could attend being so busy with work and school. she looked at her friend who sat next to her “i’m a little nervous” she said quietly. “why?” her friend asked making a confused face. “it’s just me and luke aren’t really public yet and what if someone figures it out?” “do you not want anyone to know?” her friend questioned her. “i do i’m just not sure luke does” yn’s friend was about to respond but she was interrupted but the devils being announced. the game was tied in the third period and yn watched anxiously as luke skated through with the puck and shot it right into the back of the net she jumped up to her feet and cheered. luke quickly skated over tapping his heart and then point directly at her before going back to the game. yn blushed as the people around her cheered. “i don’t think you have to worry about luke not wanting anyone to know” her friend said wrapping an arm around yn’s shoulder.
+one
yn was standing in front of the mirror while luke zipped the back of her dress for her. “there all done baby” he smiled kissing the back of her head. “thank you lukey” she said making eye contact with him through the mirror. “you look absolutely beautiful” she blushed “stop it” she said shyly “i’m serious you look beautiful and i can’t wait for the team to meet you” luke said. tonight was an event for the devils and this was yn’s first time meeting everyone “i’m so nervous” she said turning around to face him. she wrapped her arms around his neck and luke pulled her closer by her waist. “nothing to be nervous about angel. they will love you because i love you” yn looked up at him and smiled “you love me?” luke nodded “more than anything” he said bending down to kiss her “i love you too lukey i’m so thankful for you” she said pressing her lips to his.
#new jersey devils#nj devils#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes x you#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes fanfic#new jersey devils imagine
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If you’re requests are open(feel free to ignore this if not) HEAR ME OUT, headcanons/imagine/whatever you wanna do really with the moriarty bros liking a childhood friend(separately or they can all like the. Friend that’s up to you) like maybe it was the kid that one duchess adopted(yknow the one that made Earl Moriarty feel like he had to adopt a kid) cause like the duchess was like an actual nice person who wanted to help the poor an all that so maybe she raised the orphan the same way?(im so heckin sorry if none of this makes sense my dude, I’m horrible at this rip)
Being Childhood Friends with the Moriarty Brothers
Albert, William, and Louis James Moriarty
A/N: It's okay my guy! It was clear and it was really fun writing this one :) I may have forgotten the romance part last minute asjkas so it's longer than normal :')
Tag/s: Long (1.7k words)
Growing up in the orphanage since you were a baby, you have half given up on the idea of being adopted.
So the fact that a kind woman-- a duchess no less, adopted you was a surprise you never saw coming.
But you were grateful for your new life and the woman you now call your mother for this second chance.
Coming from rock bottom yourself, you and the duchess worked hard with foundations and charities for the poor and unfortunate, even if it meant scandals and rumors circling around you and your new family.
However, your new title didn't mean anything to other noble kids.
You were scrutinized and avoided like a plague by other noble families.
This didn't come as a surprise, but it was still uncomfortable attending balls and having everyone stay five feet away from you, spreading rumors about you being riddled with disease.
The duchess defended you, saying despite not being bound by blood, you were her child through and through and a noble.
Unfortunately, her words only fell on deaf ears.
Not that you mind, knowing firsthand how the rich treat the poor on the streets.
Worried about you feeling lonely, your mother tried to make friends with other fellow mothers and set up a playdate or tea parties, rich or poor.
Even when you tried to play nice with other nobles, as suggested by the duchess, the noble kids didn't give you a chance.
It also didn't help with their mothers calling your mother a hedge creeper, wagtail, or their husband's mistress.
To say you were banned from a couple of tea parties was an understatement.
However, hearing Lord Moriarty also adopted kids, the duchess wasted no time setting up a playdate for you.
Albert James Moriarty
You two have actually met before during a party.
Granted, scaring the kids who threw rocks at you to run into a thorny rose bush was not the best first impression, but it did make quite an impact on him.
He found you in the gardens, admiring the flowers, when a group of kids thought it would be funny to throw rocks at you.
He was about to tell off the kids until one threw a rock especially hard, making you fall on your face.
Snapping, you decided to play along with their accusations of you being diseased.
A limp in your step, hoarse voice, reaching out your arms to them as you chased them through the gardens and made them run through a thorny bush, making you smile in triumph.
Albert saw the whole thing, hiding a smile behind his hand as he watched you dust yourself off.
He was about to introduce himself to you until he saw your forehead bleeding and led you back inside to treat your wound.
It may not have been the best way, but hey! You made a friend!
Ever since that day, you would always look for Albert and follow him around for the rest of the gathering.
You knew his mother hated you, and his brother saw you as an insect. But you just completely ignore them and talk to Albert, making the two furious.
He taught you the etiquette needed to see in nobles and even the dances for different music.
If you two weren't outside avoiding the party, you two were talking and eating in the corner off in your own world.
Because of this, some noble kids started trying to get close to you to reach Albert or just hate your complete existence.
Despite all this, you kept hanging out with Albert unapologetically, seeing he was as lonely as you were in this rich man's world.
NOW while he only saw you as a good friend, Albert knew he wanted to stay by your side as long as he could.
Sneaking out of parties, knowing looks, and inside jokes the two of you only knew were some of his treasured memories.
However, he also knew the judging stares of other nobles, saying you weren't supposed to be here.
He tried to step away, hoping you would be safer if you had some distance, but he would always find you within arm's reach.
You kept smiling and being yourself despite everyone around you waiting for one mistake to drag you down.
You were the only one who was a genuine friend to him, wanting nothing in return but his company.
While you were rough around the edges as a noble, you were a gem as a person, always lending a helping hand to those in need.
You were also the only one who would accompany him during his trips to the orphanages or outreach programs.
He would even catch you volunteering, hosting charities, or helping others with your own pocket money.
So when he saw you jumping into traffic to save a child, tattering your outfit in the process but smiling in relief to see the child was safe, he knew he couldn't let you go.
William James Moriarty
The first time you heard about William was from Albert about how he met a genius orphan who knew how to read advanced books at a young age and even gave advice to adults despite being a child.
And now, here you were on a playdate with him and his younger brother.
You tried getting close to the two, seeing how Albert praised them and wanted to get to know them better.
But you couldn't help but notice an invisible wall around the two brothers. Especially William.
While William was friendly from the start, you noticed something lurking behind his smile.
This didn't stop you from trying to be friends with them, though.
Relying on Albert's stories (and Albert himself), you tried getting close to William through his intellect.
Reading books together, visiting museums and art galleries, going to the public library, even showing him your own textbooks from your school.
His teasing you for your wrong answers was not welcomed, though.
Whenever you would ask him something, no matter how absurd, he always entertained you and gave you an answer.
During your talks, you would always have tea and snacks ready, considering how some of them would last for hours.
Slowly, William started to make the first move and approach you.
Offering to teach you lessons you found difficult, offering a tea party, or suggesting somewhere new for you four to visit.
Despite noticing the distance between you two getting smaller, you could still feel the invisible wall between you.
However, this didn't stop you from befriending the boy and treating him like the kid he was.
When he first met you, he thought you were only interesting, seeing as you were the reason he and Louis got adopted in the first place.
When he would approach you, it was only to feed your curiosity, seeing as you had a lot of questions about different things.
He would always give you an answer, watching your expression change as you listen to him.
Slowly, he started enjoying talking to you, amused at how you would find interest in the most bizarre things, ranging from random trivia to high-level knowledge.
That was until he found out you were asking for advice on how to put on successful charities and programs to help people.
When you revealed to him your plans to make a hospital for the impaired, you were proud of yourself for surprising the boy.
Even more when you told him you'd make sure to give him the recognition he deserved.
Considering how his intellect was only used for simple things such as growing flowers or for schemes like robbing a bank, you were a refreshing change of pace.
Now whenever you would ask him something, he would try to guess what you had planned through your questions, sometimes even teasing you when he got it right (which was all the time).
It became a little game between you two, one which he would look forward to and catch himself smiling at the sight of you.
Louis James Moriarty
Louis was the hardest one to become friends with.
He never left William's side and would keep his eyes on you.
Whenever you tried to talk to Louis, he only gave you short answers.
However, this didn't faze you as you kept trying to find a middle ground.
Not surprisingly, he would liven up whenever you would mention or compliment William.
Much to the boy's dismay, who is usually no farther than three feet away from you both.
Considering he had heart surgery, you tried to be considerate and only hang out at the Moriarty manor to spend time with him.
This was how you found out how he was treated by the staff.
While the butler treated you better for being a guest, you didn't excuse his treatment of Louis.
Now, you always help Louis with his chores and glare at the butler whenever Louis mentions the things he made him do.
One day, you offhanded mentioned how strong Louis must have been, going through everything he had.
Surprised by the sudden compliment, he mutters how untrue it was and what a burden he was to his brother.
This made you shower him with praise, saying he should be more confident in himself.
After that, Louis started warming up to you. Even greeting you as soon as you arrive with a smile on his face.
You may have bragged to Albert about being the first one to befriend Louis out of you two.
At first, he was wary of you. Despite knowing you were also adopted, he didn't trust you.
But you would always make an effort to get to know Louis, even doing chores with him and defending him whenever you visit.
You never looked at him with pity and treated him just like another kid.
Whenever you and his brothers would play, you would always invite Louis and even pull him along, whether it was just hanging out in the manor or visiting some exotic spot in the city.
You would always listen and pay attention to him, making sure he was heard and seen by others whenever he spoke up.
And whenever he spoke ill of himself, you try to boost his confidence and point out his good points with clear eyes.
So when you called him strong and said how much he meant to you and his brothers, he knew you weren't lying.
Slowly, Louis started warming up to you and even clinging to you, which didn't go unnoticed by you three.
You may have cried tears of joy while William and Albert clapped for you.
Now, he considers you one of his trusted confidants and was always the first to greet you, even preparing your favorite tea and snacks in advance for your visits.
#yuukoku no moriarty x reader#moriarty the patriot x reader#albert moriarty x reader#albert james moriarty x reader#albert moriarty#albert james moriarty#william moriarty x reader#william james moriarty x reader#william moriarty#william james moriarty#louis james moriarty x reader#louis moriarty x reader#louis james moriarty#louis moriarty#headcanons
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oh you know it's all latestage capitalism but the thing is. how are you supposed to be a person inside of this. a person trying to be a better version of yourself.
oh, you started working young, which was kind of hard, but it's just the way stuff works sometimes. and it was 2008 and your family couldn't afford heat. but it's fine, you grow a spine and get used to the professional world and besides it was the suburbs we're talking about here, like, your life could have been actually hard, so what if your father lost his job and you can't afford to move or turn the lights back on. and once you start making money, it's good. you keep doing that. because now they're relying on you. so you have to do that.
oh you were in thousands of dollars of debt at 17 years old so that you could go to school, because you have to go to school if you want to get a "real" job. you even did it "right", you worked parttime and attended community college before you transferred to a public school. you were under so many merit scholarships.
which is fine. you pick yourself up and you say like, okay. i graduated college. i'm holding down a job. i'm doing the Adult Thing, which looks and acts like this, according to all the books i've read. you start with the shitty job and then you climb that corporate ladder.
but the shitty job doesn't cover rent and you stretch yourself too-thin so you get sick. good luck with that. the shitty job no longer pays for your meals. everyone asks why you don't just move, but there's nowhere to move to. and with what money are you going to be moving? and then the loans come back, because they were never going to forgive them, because you were 17 and trying to do the right thing, which was stupid. people are now saying you shouldn't have even gone to school.
which is fine. but because you have no other option, so you do the shitty job, and you apply every day for like 5 new ones, and despite the fact everyone says "there's no one who wants to work!" it's actually just that nobody is fucking hiring so you can either work for 13 dollars an hour in the shitty place you know (where at least you have a passingly friendly relationship with the manager) or you can start from scratch again with a different 13 dollars an hour without knowing how much abuse from the new job you'll be taking.
and if you quit you lose your insurance. if you quit you lose your housing. if you quit, you'll be another burnout kid. the lazy ones. these assholes, look at them!
and you come home to a family dinner and you hear from your father the same old thing. how he worked hard at his job and yes it sucked for a while but he was able to provide for the family and then the house and the dog and the rest of barbie's dream vacation. how the insurance did cover some of it. how you just really need to start speaking up more in manager conversations so they know you're a go-getter. you want to tell him - did you know we're actually doing more now hourly than any previous generation? - but you can't remember where you heard that statistic, and you're far too tired for the fucking argument. and then he starts in on his usual bit. where's the house? where's your kids? where's your ambition.
the same job the same money the same hours doesn't do it anymore. the same nose-to-the-grindstone now just shreds your face off. there's no such thing as upwards mobility, not really. and as far as you're aware, the money certainly is not trickling. you do the soulless stupid shit you signed up for because you fucking have to or else you literally risk your life (food, the apartment, the insurance), but it's not getting you anything. you download the stupid "save more" app and you budget and you do every right thing and then the price of eggs is 7 dollars and you say - oh great! another thing i have to fucking worry about now!
and you go to your stupid job and everyone in your father's generation just tells you to be better about being an adult. they have their homes and their savings account and their bailout and they say. well have you tried not drinking starbucks. well your generation just spends too much on clothing. well you might just be too addicted to travelling. and you - because you need the job - you bite your tongue and don't say i am being held prisoner and you're suggesting i stop pacing my cell if i don't like the scenery and you don't say what the fuck do you think i've been doing with my money and you don't say i haven't spent a cent on something nice in literally forever much less coffee you arrogant asshole. you open and close your bank app and check your loans and check your credit score and check fucking zillow and ziprecruiter and apartments.com just one time more. and still they give you that demeaning little grin and say - see, what you need is -
what you need is for your meds to stop being so fucking expensive. what you need is for the housing bubble to explode into dust. what you need is for billionaires to choke on their wealth. what you need is actual help. what you will get is more economic advice from people who are older-and-wiser.
and above you, almost in a glimmer, you can see the wedged smile of your debt getting toothier, wider.
#i hate when people try to tell me i didn't do it right#what should i have done better#i did it ALL the right way#(not that there is a right way)#it's just that others feel comfortable believing that THEY did it the right way and that's how they made money#whereas i must have just committed a sin somewhere in there! i MUST be doing it wrong!!!#and i'm not a victim!!! im simply experiencing consequences!#and im like. where . where. wherewherewherewhere#i graduated top of my class. i was almost the student speaker.#i have always excelled at work and i work hard#i have been working since i was 13#WHERE !!!!! IS MY FUCKING !!!! MONEY!!!!!!#ps please do not make the assumption i am ablebodied or neurotypical.#i am neither of these things.#it DOES get worse if u are either of those things. so fuckin much#but @ the one anon who was like ''u could be X that would be worse u don't know how lucky u are''#.... don't i?#do i need to be luckier than someone else#or is it possible we are BOTH victims?#and that we need to work TOGETHER to resolve it#not just wave it off since it COULD be harder for someone else... it can be true we BOTH deserve better
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Would you do a Mu Qing from TCGF fluff request Xie Lian (and by extension San Lang) attempt to play matchmaker between Mu Qing and his god/dess crush (cause Mu Qing refuses to admit liking them despite them being the person he’s closest to since meeting each other)?
I fell in love with this idea instantly
A Christmas special for the lovelies
Btw for creativity purposes, you can be the goddess of literally whatever
Request
Masterlist
Mu Qing x f!reader
Genres:🎉🌸💞🧪
Kiss of Winter
To the untrained eye you would seem like a subordinate or nuisance to the cold-hearted god; however, this couldn't be further from the truth. You would considered yourself a close friend to Mu Qing, you have known each other for hundreds of years after all.
Though when asked, Mu Qing would refer to you as "a valuable acquaintance," and boy did it hurt to say this. Luckily, there was a very observant god who decided he had watched you two dance around each other long enough.
The holidays were approaching and Xie Lian thought this would be a great time to force persuade both of you to be in each other's company more often. So, with some hard thought planning and input from San Lang, the boys decided on a special celebration for the gods.
Now considering all these higher beings actually have standards, lots of works will have to be put into this. And who better to ask than someone that'll be excited to attend?
"I can't think of anyone more fitting for this job than you," Xie Lian praised, hoping to get you on the project. Everything has to be perfect if he's gonna get you and Mu Qing together.
You hesitated for a moment, "I've been getting many more prayers recently, though I suppose those can be put on hold..." There was a look of pondering on your face, weighing the pros and cons of what this could do to your status among deities and humans.
"Don't you have subordinates? If anything important happens they'll surely yap to you about it," you tensed at San Lang's words. Subordinates yes, deserving of disrespect no.
Unfortunately though, you must admit he was right. Your subordinates were always more alert than you, even when it came to your own temples. You sighed, "fine, I will help you prepare for this celebration."
After tireless days? Weeks? Of work, you all finally finished the super secret super awesome holiday party. Now you may be wondering would Mu Qing even come to the celebration? The answer is yes, but only if you invite him.
And let's be honest, most of the Heaven Official's don't like Xie Lian and San Lang very much, so making you the messenger was common sense from the beginning. So after running around and inviting everyone you saw, it finally came to the one and only.
"It is a holiday that comes each year, what makes this one special?" So far, so bad, he doesn't seem very keen on attending your greatest achievement yet.
"Becauseee we put effort into enjoying it this year. It'll be fun, I promise!" You pleaded with Mu Qing, hoping he'd say yes. "I worked on it the most anyways, so you don't have to worry about Xie Lian's 'bad taste.'"
He crossed his arms, contemplating if that was really a good enough reason to attend. "And when did I say you have good taste? It is likely just as bad considering you dare interact with him." OW OKAY THEN.
You folded your hands and begged, "if it's not I swear to never invite you again! Just please come this once..." This is what convinced him, the pain that in the future deities will get to enjoy your hard-work and he'll be left out. No one could ever appreciate your efforts like he can.
"Fine! I will agree this once..." That was a lie, he will make sure to agree in the future, even if it means forcing himself to attend a celebration that involved Xie Lian and San Lang.
The day of the celebration was fantastic, several deities appeared, many complimenting you on your efforts. You most oversaw everything that was happening, what you didn't see; however, was Xie Lian spying on you and Mu Qing while talking.
He took this as his chance to put the real plan into action. After getting a signal from San Lang that the mistletoe was hanging up a few feet from you two, Xie Lian basically sprinted into the both of you, pushing you under the plant.
Mu Qing turned around, visibly angry at Xie Lian, "would it hurt to watch where you move?!" This caused Xie Lian to put his hands up in defeat and shuffle away.
While rubbing your head to try and soothe the pain, you noticed something bright above you. Realizing it was mistletoe your face got darker. This caused Mu Qing to seem slightly concerned, questioning what was the problem. You only pointed up, and when he took notice his face also darkened.
"We can simply move and ignore this tradition, it's not that important anyways-" He was interrupted by you however, "rules are rules, Mu Qing, we can't ignore them. Plus, I kinda like this tradition."
He tried to get over the initial embarrassment and decided it would be easier to dive into the kiss. What would've been a fleeting moment to others felt like an eternity to you both.
Pulling away you could both tell by the look in each other's eyes that the feeling was mutual. And hidden somewhere else was a very proud and excited Xie Lian.
this was a very beefy fic
not that i'm complaining i liked it
anyways, happy holidays everyone! may all be well for the new year
#tian guan ci fu#tgcf#heaven official's blessing#tgcf x reader#tian guan ci fu x reader#heaven official's blessing x reader#mu qing x reader#mu qing
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chapter xxiii – gust & flame
Eris Vanserra x Reader
Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.
Word Count: 4,500+
masterlist
“You are being awfully quiet, my dear.”
Y/N blinked, getting mentally awoken by Leonora’s comment. “Sorry, I just…I don’t think the hand-made gown tailored specifically for me was necessary.”
Leonora looked confused. “And why is that?”
Y/N’s gaze couldn’t lift from the floor as she answered, “I do not think it is wise for me to attend the celebration.”
All of the servants and seamstresses froze from the statement and subtly looked at their Lady of Autumn for indication of how they should react.
But Leonora, calm and collected per usual, just gave Y/N a gentle smile. She nodded to the seamstress that was kneeling at Y/N’s foot to continue her work.
Then she looked up at Y/N without judgment or worry, but with an encouraging smirk and soft eyes. “Why would it not be wise for the mate of our new High Lord to attend his coronation, Y/N?”
The witch finally looked up from the ground to meet her gaze. “Will it not give the people of his Court the wrong idea? I am not the next Lady of Autumn, nor have I accepted his bond. I do not wish to put Eris in an uncomfortable position.”
Leonora gave a sad nod. “I see…” she sighed.
She turned around and gave everyone in the room a soft request to leave the two of them.
Y/N’s heart started beating faster as she watched them all quietly exit.
Was Leonora about to scold her? Yell at her for refusing to accept her son as his mate?
No, that couldn’t be it.
Leonora had been nothing but kind to Y/N since they met. Never once did she pressure her on behalf of Eris. She hardly ever brought up their relationship. Most of the time, Y/N felt like Leonora was just happy to have a new female friend in the Forest House, especially after so long of being a prisoner here.
Leonora offered Y/N her hand to help her off the platform she was standing on for the seamstresses. Then she held both of her hands gently as she told her, “You forget, Y/N, that you are more to Autumn Court than simply the mate of its new High Lord.”
Y/N’s brow furrowed.
Leonora smiled. “You are their savior. Yes, it was Eris who slayed Beron in the end. But he would not have had the courage or strength to do so without you. Most in this Court despised and feared Beron Vanserra. You have given this Court a chance for change.”
Y/N’s face grew hot from the praise.
Leonora gave her a sympathetic look before adding, “But also I cannot say that as Eris’ mother, I do not also have selfish motives, as well. You make him stronger. I worry how he will be if he if he goes through such a coronation alone.”
“But you and Lucien will be there,” Y/N tried to argue.
Leonora tilted her head and gave her a look. “It is not the same, and I think you know that, my dear.”
Then she looked down at the beginnings of the dress on Y/N’s body that the seamstresses had begun.
“As for the dress, Eris wishes to spoil you with finery and I can’t argue with his intentions,” Leonora teased with a smirk.
But her expression sobered. “However, I know neither he nor anyone else will fault you for avoiding such a celebration. So much has been thrust upon you, and in so little time. You must do what is best for you.”
Y/N frowned and looked down at herself. “I will let them finish the dress – if only to please everyone. I would feel bad for throwing away all their hard work they’ve already done.”
Leonora nodded. “I think that is a wonderful idea.”
–🍁–🍁–🍁–
In the following weeks, the Forest House was bustling with activity.
Apparently, the coronation included inviting every High Lord and Lady of of Prythian.
Which meant the servants and cooks were frantic with preparations. Lucien had explained to her that the staff saw this as an opportunity to show why Autumn Court should be considered the best of Prythian. With a new High Lord came a new chance to prove that Autumn Court could change for the better and they were not to be overlooked.
Therefore, Y/N tried to stay out of everyone’s way. She either hid in the library, continuing her personal research or she was in her workshop, keeping herself busy with spells and potions.
However, on the day of the coronation, she stayed hidden in her bedchambers, scared that leaving would only bring attention to the fact that she would not be attending the festivities.
Maids and seamstresses had knocked on her door early in the morning. But Y/N simply ignored them, not wanting to see the looks of disappointment when she told them she would not be going to the coronation.
Y/N tried to distract herself by the fire, sitting on a chaise lounge with a romance novel in hand when more aggressive knocking came at the door.
She planned on ignoring it again, but then she recognized the group of voices on the other side.
“Y/N, if you do not open the door, we will break it down!” Nesta threatened loudly.
She jumped up and hurried to the door to whip it open.
On the other side, were her three Valkyrie sisters: Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie.
Not only that, but they clearly dressed and done up for the coronation.
Nesta wore a simple black, velvet dress. But it was not simple in the way that it fit her body like a glove and edged toward risqué. Y/N had always appreciated how Night Court attire never strayed from being seductive and showing skin. Gwyn wore a more elegant black dress, which made Y/N wonder if Nesta was using her mate’s money to buy her friends luxurious gowns. Emerie wore leathers, that could have been a warrior’s uniform, over pants. Though less feminine, they were still formal and lavish in their own way.
When the Illyrian saw Y/N eyeing her outfit, she shrugged. “I was never really one for gowns…”
“You all look beautiful,” Y/N muttered. “B-But w-what are you doing here?” Y/N gasped in shock.
“We’re here for you, obviously!” Gwyn urged and pulled Y/N into a warm hug.
“Eris invited us,” Emerie confirmed with a smile, also walking into her rooms.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Nesta asked, looking Y/N up and down as she closed the door behind them.
Y/N frowned. “I…I am not going.” Her eyes stayed down, scared to see their reactions to such a confession.
But, without hesitation, Gwyn announced, “Then we will stay in here and drink ourselves silly!”
Y/N’s jaw dropped at how unfazed her friends were. “B-But you will miss the festivities. And you all look so lovely.”
Nesta rolled her eyes. “This will not be our last opportunity to dress up. We would much rather hang out with you than all the stuffy High Lords and their nobles.”
Then Emerie nudged Nesta. “But we must still tell her our plan.”
“Plan?” Y/N questioned, eyes scanning all of them.
“Helion Spell-Cleaver will be in attendance!” Gwyn squealed.
Y/N’s brow furrowed, immediately thinking of Leonora and Lucien. She wondered if the Lady of Autumn would ever reveal to her past lover and her youngest son of the secret relation. Or if Leonora would ever follow her heart and return to Helion.
“Yes, all of the High Lord’s have been invited…” Y/N muttered, not understanding their clear excitement.
“Helion is the sole owner of the last of the pegasuses,” Emerie explained.
Nesta rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “And he makes sure to remind everyone of it, using them as his transport to any event he possibly can.”
Y/N’s amusement dropped for concern. “Please, please, please tell me you do not plan on stealing Helion’s pegasuses.”
“Don’t be silly,” Gwyn brushed off. “However, we do plan on sneaking into their enclosure to give them some pets.”
“And perhaps seducing Helion into giving us one or two…” Nesta added while looking at her nails. Y/N gaped at her. “What? He’s already propositioned me to join an orgy once when I visited Day Court.”
“Yes, before you accepted Cassian as your mate!” Emerie pointed out.
Nesta quirked a brow. “Who said Cassian would not be participating?”
“Those smutty books of yours have given you too many ideas,” Y/N laughed.
“More like inspiration,” Nesta corrected. “And inspiration that my mate is very enthusiastic about trying.” Then she pointed to the book Y/N had been reading when they arrived and quirked a brow. "Do not pretend you are above them."
“OK. Enough about your bedroom habits!” Gwyn interrupted. Then she turned her attention to Y/N. “Are you in or are you out?”
The witch smiled. “Of course I’m in.”
Minutes later, they were sneaking around the Forest House, Y/N led them toward where she assumed any guests horses would be quartered for the night.
But before they could reach it, a gust of wind wrapped around the females.
“He…needs…you,” The wind whispered to Y/N. “Go…to…him. He cannot…do this…without you.”
Y/N froze in the hallway.
“What? What is it?” Emerie asked.
“I-I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. “Eris needs me. I will catch up to you later.”
“Oh, for Cauldron’s sake!” Gwyn cried. “As if we would make you go alone.”
“She’s right,” Nesta added. “Someone needs to do your hair and makeup.”
–🍁–🍁–🍁–
Eris swore his back had a metal pole along his spine with out tense and stiff his posture was. He knew his expressions were cold and unwelcoming. But he was in a room with too many people he had yet to decipher friend or foe. The nobles of Autumn Court smiled at him, but most only wanted good favor with the new High Lord. And for those that weren’t smiling, there were plenty that looked at him with fear or uneasiness, trying to gauge if he was just as bad as Beron.
His mother kept giving him tense, but encouraging smiles every time he spotted her in the crowded hall.
When to use his mask and when to reveal his true self, Eris did not know.
It was easier when Y/N was by his side. She eased him, reminded him of who he truly was. The mask never felt needed when her scent surrounded him.
But his mate was not here, nor was she coming.
And Eris couldn’t blame her. These events of politics and groveling were conniving at their best and boring at their worst. If he could skip it too, he would have. But that was no way to officially take over the throne of a broken court that needed mending.
Eris once again caught sight of a group of courtier daughters. They whispered and giggled at him, hardly even bothering to subdue their staring. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed how they seemed to edge closer and closer as the night went on.
Yes, Eris was handsome and powerful. Female attention was not something he was unaccustomed to. But he knew what those females were truly after were the wealth and power being married to a High Lord would bring. It didn’t matter that everyone knew of his mortal witch mate. They wanted him for themselves regardless.
His attire did nothing to help him blend in to the crowd. New, custom armor glinted against the thousands of candles and faelight surrounding them. And the blood red cloak stood out – even in Autumn Court.
Eris threw back the rest of his faerie wine, hoping he could get drunk enough to keep his wits about him, while also making the evening go by faster.
“Another?” A male voice offered from over his shoulder.
Eris turned to see Rhysand handing him another full glass, Feyre glued to his side with a knowing smirk.
“I promise I did not poison it,” Rhysand added.
“At this point, you would be doing me a favor,” Eris grumbled, taking a sip immediately.
Rhysand smirked. “Already over being High Lord, Eris?”
“I became High Lord to make my Court a better place, not to rub shoulders with nobles and courtiers who wish to use me to gain favor…”
“And I’m sure being away from Y/N is only making your mood more sour,” Feyre muttered more teasingly.
“She may do what pleases her. I’m sure her Valkyries have found her by now and are keeping her company.”
“Are you quite sure about that…” Feyre asked as she looked behind Eris.
The High Lord of Autumn Court quickly turned to follow her gaze.
At the entrance of the great hall stood Y/N.
Eris felt the invisible string attached to his heart go taut. A feeling Y/N had not experienced, and probably never would.
Despite her entrance not being formally announced, many had gone quiet and began to stare.
Someone had pulled Y/N’s hair up and done her makeup. Though Eris found her beautiful regardless, the level of glamour around her made her magnetic.
Meanwhile, Y/N held her head high as she slowly, yet confidently, walked further into the room. She was doing a good job of ignoring the scrutiny, but Eris could tell that she was more than aware of the staring.
Her dress fit her perfectly. And while most attendees wore green and the rustic browns of the court, Y/N had not strayed away from vibrant red, almost looking as if she were glowing like fire itself. Eris realized it matched with his own cloak. There were strips of black in her gown that felt like a call out to her short time in Night Court, where she had already gained respect and acceptance.
Eris wanted to go to her immediately. But he had to hold himself back. There was a reason she was late and walked in alone, instead of on his arm. It was clear that she worried about making his court believe she had accepted the mating bond.
But if Eris had his way, he’d use his magic to shove everyone out of the path from Y/N to him. He’d stop any conversation he was having – no matter how rude or undiplomatic it was – to give her his full attention and affection.
“Will you not go to her?” Feyre asked, concern obvious in her tone.
Y/N’s friends of the Night Court were unaware of the the change in her relationship with the High Lord of Autumn. They did not realize how far the two had come, how much had changed. Everything was so much more complicated than how it had begun: a male desperately hiding his mate in a court that was not his.
–🍁–
Y/N felt the eyes on her. She wondered if all of them were judgment or if there was also just innocent curiosity.
She wished she’d forced the Valkyries to drink heavily with her before leaving her bedchambers, because being sober for this felt like a cruel torture.
The three of them convinced Y/N that she needed to walk in without them. That she needed to walk in confident and independent.
But Y/N underestimated how many stares she'd receive in return.
So, she decided to straight line to where refreshments were being served. Feyre had once warned her away from fae wine, for it is far too strong for mortals to consume in the same manner as fae.
But right now, Y/N didn’t care.
Of course she couldn’t make it there without overhearing a group of females. Whether they had noticed her arrival, she had yet to discern.
“Now that his dreadful father is dead, I wonder where the High Lord will find his…entertainment,” one female said somewhat quietly.
Another chimed in with, “I once heard he would only bed harlots at pleasure halls in other Courts, in fear that Beron would kill any female who could sire a child from him.”
“But now he has a mate. Surely that means any and all of our efforts will be wasted,” a third female added.
“Oh, please.” The first female scoffed. Y/N didn’t have to look at her to know that she was rolling her eyes. “She is not even a fae. Truly, how long do you believe we will have to stay away before her mortal life ends?”
This is a terrible mistake, Y/N thought. She should have never shown her face here. This was exactly what she had been wanting to avoid.
Obviously Eris was a desired male – High Lord or not. And who was she to get in the way of him finding a suitor that was of his Court, of his own kind?
But, suddenly, the females stopped talking abruptly.
Had they finally noticed Y/N’s presence? Did they even care enough to make sure she didn’t overhear such things?
“High Lord Eris,” the first one greeted overly sweet. “How lovely of you to join us.”
Y/N whipped around to find Eris’ eyes already locked to hers as he stood a few feet away from her.
He ignored the female High Fae entirely, not even glancing in her direction.
Y/N didn’t know how to address him in such a setting. She looked around before starting to lower her head into a bow.
You do not bow to anyone, Rhysand’s voice suddenly snuck into her head.
With her dress and fanciful jewelry, Y/N had removed her protective amulet that stopped any daemati from entering her mind. That meant the High Lord and Lady of Night Court were free to speak to her mind freely.
Ignore them, Rhysand added. He has been waiting for you all night.
Eris didn’t greet Y/N verbally. Because nothing would’ve felt right.
But his eyes said everything.
And slowly he offered her his hand.
Y/N’s chest heaved as she put her glass down before stepping forward and lightly placing her hand in his grip.
Without breaking eye contact, Eris lowered his mouth and kissed it.
Without hesitating, he pulled Y/N to him and tucked her hand under his arm so it gripped his bicep. Then he placed his other hand over it, securing her further to his side.
Without asking for direction, Y/N quietly followed him as he guided them to the center of the room.
There was suddenly a female gasp from behind them. Eris didn’t turn, but Y/N looked over her shoulder to see that the first female from the group was covered in red wine. So much so that it was dripping off of her fine gown.
And there was Nesta… holding an empty glass with a smug, but melodramatically innocent look. Gwyn and Emerie were trying to hide their amusement.
"My mistake," Nesta gasped deviously.
Y/N didn’t know when her friends had joined her, but clearly it was early enough that they had caught the dreadful things those females had been saying about her and her mate with their fae hearing.
Then there was a screech of fear and a soft growl.
She looked down to see that her new little pet fox, Ronan, was nipping and growling at the group of rude females. How he escaped from her bedchambers was beyond her. But clearly he didn’t like being away from her.
Y/N bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the sight.
Then she whistled softly and Ronan’s head snapped in her direction. He didn’t need another command, so he floppily ran to her and Eris, trotting along beside them.
When she turned forward again, Y/N realized Eris was leading them to the throne.
And with the wave of his hand, Eris pushed his throne over a foot and a second one appeared magically beside it.
Y/N’s head whipped to him, wanting to ask him what in the Cauldron he was doing.
But then she realized he was making a statement. There were some who would question her and her relationship with their new High Lord. But Eris was announcing to everyone that she was to be treated and respected as their High Lady, whether she accepted his bond or not.
“Eris,” she whispered in a hiss.
Her anxiety was skyrocketing at the statement he was about to make.
But he ignored her subtle plea, and instead just said, “Head high, little witch.”
He guided her carefully up the steps that led to the throne and waited for her to sit before he took his own.
The room quieted and turned their attention to Eris.
Y/N controlled her expressions, but her heart was racing from confusion of what she was meant to do.
They will crown him now, Rhysand’s voice entered Y/N’s mind again. He wants you at his side, therefore you belong there. Act like you know it.
Y/N found both Rhysand and Feyre in the crowd, which was fairly easy since they were the only people wearing black in a sea of mostly Autumn Colors – except for the other High Lords that were in attendance.
The couple gave her encouraging grins. Then she found Cassian, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie standing next to them, doing the same.
Cassian gave her a proud and beaming smile.
Y/N listened as one of Eris’ advisors started speaking the ritual of crowning the newest High Lord.
It was shorter than she expected. Though she struggled with paying attention, too focused on maintaining her posture and composure while being put on the same display as Eris.
Then the advisor was standing behind Eris, slowly lowering a rustic golden crown atop his head. It was in the shape of fallen leaves, with subtle hints of autumn red and green in the detailing.
As soon as it settled on his head, Eris turned to Y/N with his hand outstretched to her.
Without hesitation, she took it.
Together they stood.
The room immediately lowered into a bow – except for the other High Lords, who only subtly bowed their head in respect.
Y/N found Leonora’s gaze amongst them and she had a proud smile on her lips, but it was not only directed at her son.
Eris helped Y/N sit once again.
People started moving closer toward the throne.
Y/N realized the courtiers and lords were swearing their allegiance now.
A male high fae stepped forward first, bowing his strawberry blonde head deeply.
“Lord Foley,” Eris greeted indifferently.
The male bowed his head again and then turned his gaze to Y/N, opening his mouth to formally introduce himself to her.
“You are Eoghan Foley?” Y/N asked him before he could speak.
The males eyes widened in surprise.
“You own the majority of farms in the south east territory, correct?”
The male looked even more surprised.
Eris smirked at his mate, deciding to let her speak while he watched.
“You are known for paying your farmers the most, even when Beron underpaid you in an attempt to raise competition amongst other lords.”
Eoghan bowed his head. “My workers deserve a fair wage, Lady Y/N. When treated with respect they are more inclined to stay and there is less loss.”
Y/N then turned to Eris, having a silent conversation with their eyes.
“And for that, you shall be rewarded,” Eris’ voice came out strong and confident. And the entire room could clearly hear it. His gaze moved about the room. “The days of exploitation are over. Those of Autumn Court deserve to be paid for their work. Such competition only turns us against each other.” His eyes moved back to the lord. “A bonus will be delivered to you before nightfall tomorrow, Lord Foley.”
The male looked taken aback at such a decision. He half-expected to find that Eris was no better than his tyrant father. But he was instantly proven wrong.
“T-Thank you High Lord Eris,” he said with another bow. Then he looked up at Y/N before turning his gaze to the floor. “And to you, Lady Y/N. Our people are already indebted to you for bringing Autumn Court back into the light.”
“I hear your wife is a talented sculptor, Lord Foley.” Y/N noted with kindness in her eyes. “I hope to see her work for myself someday.”
“Any time you wish, Lady Y/N.”
“Enough business and politics for tonight,” Eris announced once Lord Foley had moved back into the crowd.
Then he eyed the other High Lords who were in attendance. All of them had been studying him and his interactions carefully. “Otherwise, we shall be spilling Autumn’s secrets to our guests who have their own Courts to govern.”
His courtiers laughed lightly at his joke.
With the swipe of Eris’ hand, the lighting in the room darkened to a moodier setting. And the symphony took their signal to begin playing music.
The guests started coupling up to dance.
Once again, Eris stood and offered Y/N his hand.
She took it, but moved close to his side so she could whisper, “I do not know these formal dances.”
Eris squeezed her hand tightly. “Trust me,” he simply whispered back.
When they entered the center of the dance floor, Eris pulled them into the proper stance. “I will lead. Just relax and do not overthink it.”
And Y/N did just that.
Either the steps were not as complicated as she had presumed or Eris was good dance partner. But they swayed across the floor. And despite hundreds of eyes watching them, the room disappeared around them, and it was just them.
“Thank you for saving me,” Eris whispered in her ear as he pulled her even closer.
Y/N knew this closeness was more immoral and informal, but she needed it. And if it was improper, Eris didn’t seem to care one bit.
“I hardly did anything,” Y/N admitted softly.
“You did more than you could ever understand,” he countered quickly. “You continue to be my savior, Y/N.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Y/N confessed softly. Her lips quirked as she added, “The worst loneliness is felt while surrounded by others.” Repeating her past statement from the night he had confessed how lonely he'd once been in this court.
Eris stopped abruptly, pulling their dance to a halt.
His eyes slowly went from her eyes to her lips.
Y/N knew he wanted to kiss her. She could feel it. And she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want him to, as well.
Eris was calculating how safe it was to show such affection to his mate so publicly. Another voice in his head was telling him he should to whatever he damn well pleased.
A deep voice cleared their throat behind her.
They turned to see Cassian standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
He gave a polite bow to them. “I was hoping to share a dance with my favorite witch.”
Y/N smiled at his playfulness. But she also saw the hidden message in his gaze. Her friend was trying to save her if she so wanted it.
She turned back to Eris, half expecting him to be giving the Illyrian a death glare. But the High Lord only nodded, and slowly removed Y/N from his grasp.
“She has much to share with her friends,” Eris offered him.
“Shall we?” Cassian asked her with his hand offered.
The Illyrian's dancing just further proved how skilled Eris was. But Y/N didn't mind Cassian's clumsy feet.
“I am the only witch you know,” she glared playfully at him.
“Yes, but if I were to ever meet any more, you would still be my favorite.” He spun her sloppily, ignoring the steps everyone else was following.
He lowered his voice as he said, “I only wanted to offer you an escape. It seems tensions are high between the two of you…”
“Thank you,” Y/N told him with a frown. “I fear I am lost.”
His brow furrowed as he turned them. “How so?”
Her eyes surprisingly welled with tears. “Cassian…I-I-I love him.”
-------------------
I know it took me a long time to update. But I worked really hard on this. And I loved putting together everyone's outfits. 🥹
Please leave a lovely comment. You know I love a book report.
@pancakefancake
#acotar#gust & flame#eris#eris acotar#eris vanserra#eris x reader#eris vanserra x reader#a court of thorns and roses#autumn court#high lord of autumn#lady of autumn#cassian#nesta archeron#gwyneth berdara#emerie of illyria
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Ooooooo!!!! Could u do SnowJanus x Jealous Reader where someone was flirting with both boys and she gets upset and they notice so show her who they belong to with some smut🤭🤭
-🐍
nsfw | mdni (in a world where sej goes to the university giggles), illusions to smut
you guys were at a party for the university. dr gaul was celebrating the accomplishments of her students and therefore, coryo was required to attend. and being his girlfriend, you attended alongside your other boyfriend, Sejanus. coryo and sej were talking to people within the event, all important people of course. and as they did so, one of coryo’s fellow classmates who’s also studying under dr gaul began to very clearly flirt with both sej and coryo.
she was gripped their arms, laughing too hard at their jokes. you could help but frown. only you could do that to your boys. they’re only yours after all. you were definitely jealous.
so later on, when the three of you went home to your shared apartment, you were grumpy. you weren’t sure if they picked up on it or not, talking amongst the themselves about the people they’ve met at the party. you didn’t speak as sejanus unlocked the apartment. you walked in first, immediately going to the bedroom and closing the door behind you.
which definitely caused them to be concerned. sejanus frowned but offered to coryo that maybe you were just overwhelmed and needed time to yourself. but coryo shook his head, exclaiming that you seemed upset. so they walked into the bedroom as well, seeing you stripping out of your dress. you were wearing a pastel pink lingerie set, one that coryo had gifted out a few days ago.
“darling,” coryo spoke softly, walking up to you. you were struggling with the zipper of your dress so coryo unzipped it for you, letting the material fall onto the floor. “what’s wrong?” he asked, bringing his hands up to undo your necklaces.
you had a pout on your lips as sejanus walked into the room as well. he moved to stand in front of you. “did we do something to upset you?”
you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. “yes.” you admitted. because ultimately, communication is huge in a relationship, especially one where three people are involved.
coryo finished undoing your necklaces, gently taking them off of your neck as he brought them over to your jewelry box, putting them away. he walked back over to you, wrapped his arms around your waist. “what did we do, darling?” he murmured, press in a kiss to your shoulder.
you frowned, still pouting. “allowed some girl to flirt with the both of you.” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed by how jealous you are. maybe it’s because now they’re both doing on you. sejanus had wrapped his arms around your waist as well, hugging you from the front as coryo and sej intertwined their arms together.
“we allowed some girl to flirt with us?” sej asked into your ear. “what makes you say that?” he asked, looking into your eyes.
“that girl that coryo works with in dr. gaul’s lab,” you spoke more clearly. “she was all over the both of you, laughing at your stupid jokes that really weren’t that funny. it-she wanted you.” you explained, furrowing your eyebrows. “only i can have you.” you added quietly.
coriolanus chuckled in your ear, unable to help himself. “sej, isn’t she so cute?” he teased, looking at his boyfriend. “she’s jealous.”
sej gave coryo a sharp look, narrowing his eyes at the blond. “don’t tease her, coryo. she’s genuinely upset.” he exclaimed, moving his gaze back onto you. “princess, you have nothing to worry about. we only want you.”
coryo hummed, nodding his head as he pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck. “i could only ever imagine myself with you and sej. everyone else is beneath me, darling.” he murmured into your ear.
the two men pulled away from you slightly, enough to look at you fully. their arms left your body. and coryo moved to stand next to sej. “should we show you that we belong to you?”
you nodded your head. sej and coryo each took one of your hands, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. and as soon as you sat down, coryo got on his knees in front of you. “we’re gonna make you feel so good, darling. so good that you’ll have no doubts in your mind that we are wholeheartedly belonging to you.” he murmured, pressing kisses along your upper leg and thigh.
sejanus positioned himself behind you, pressing your back against his chest. “yes, we’re going to make you feel fantastic, princess. we could never belong to anyone but you.”
and that night, they indeed showed you that they belong to only you and no one else.
#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#minsasks#coriolanus snow#fanfic#coriolanus snow x reader#thg tbosas#thg#tbosas#coriolanus x you x sejanus#sejanus plinth x fem!reader#sejanus plinth smut#sejanus plinth x reader#coriolanus x sejanus x reader#sejanus plinth#snowjanus smut#snowjanus x reader#snowjanus#🐍 anon#🐍
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Bucky Barnes - My past, my mission
A/N: I was watching Marvel movies and this just popped into my head. It's not good, there are mistakes but I tried. Please, beware that there are heavy topics discussed in this one shot. Now, I can take another break for a decade.
Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!enhanced!female reader
Warning: angst, dark themes (mention of abuse and sexual abuse, torture, children), death, fluff
Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story contains darker themes/topics.
Words: 10 000+
FULL MASTERLIST
The team was worried. They had been watching Y/N distance from them and they didn’t know why. Everything seemed fine. That changed almost two weeks ago. She started to hide in her room, attend the gym when no one was there and kept silent when they had a meeting. No one knew what happened. The only person she talked to was Nick Fury. More than once they saw her in a small conference room with him, where they were talking.
“You need to tell them what is happening,” said Nick when they were once again sitting together, talking. “The team is here for you.”
“No,” she said stubbornly. “I’m going to deal with it myself.”
He sighed. “You need backup. It’s dangerous. You won’t be able to handle it on your own.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want them to know this part of my life,” she whispered. A tear was trying to escape her eye but she managed to control her emotions.
“Listen, they already noticed that you are not being yourself,” he said. “Since you’ve found out the location of the Youth Center, you are acting differently. It took a toll on you. I know how hard your childhood and teenage years were. But I am telling you, if you want to end this, you need a backup for this mission.”
“I can handle it on my own,” she raised her voice. “They made me who I am today. I know how they operate. I’m going to do it alone. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. And if I die, so be it.”
“Come on,” he was getting irritated. “Take at least Barnes. You two have a similar history and work well together.”
“I said no,” she smashed her hand against the table. “You won’t change my mind. I’m doing it alone and I am leaving tonight.” She stood up with a loud noise. The chair creaked. “If I don’t make it back, tell them I just left. Tell them I was relocated. My only wish is you won’t tell them the truth.”
Nick shook his head. “You are making a mistake.”
“I told you the same when you took me in and made me part of the team.” She reached her hand to his. He hesitated but took it and they shook hands. “I am thankful.”
“I am not saying goodbye to you, Y/L/N,” he said. “At least think about it.”
She left the conference room and headed back to her bedroom. It was time to pack and leave. This was her moment, the perfect opportunity to destroy the place that used children to experiment on them. It was a dark place. They were kidnapping them, abusing them and testing on them as if they were lab rats. Successful tests resulted in children with different abilities. Those that obliged were spared and kept as weapons. Others were killed.
When she escaped, they moved places and she couldn’t find them since - until now. Oh, how she’s been waiting for this opportunity.
The Centre got bigger, hidden in the woods in Northern Canada. There was nothing but wild nature. The weather would be cold and unpleasant. Fury was right when he told her to bring backup, but she didn’t want to risk the lives of people whom she considered family. What if it didn’t seem as bad as it was presented? The truth was, they didn’t have a lot of information.
“Hey, Y/N,” she heard Natasha say her name.
“Hi,” she replied, not looking at her, not stopping to chat.
“Come on, talk to me. We are friends,” she ran to her, trying to walk her pace. “Everyone is worried about you.”
Y/n rolled her eyes. “Everything’s fine,” she said. “I have a lot on my plate these days.”
“You are a bad liar, Y/N. We all can see that it’s not fine and something is bothering you. You’ve been keeping your distance, you barely talk to us. What happened?”
“Nothing,” she was annoyed. “I’ll deal with it myself.”
That answer made Natasha stop and let her leave alone. She was immediately thinking about what she said. What did she mean by “deal with it myself”? She could already put two and two together.
She turned around and briskly walked to the other side of the building where the rest of the team was hanging out. It was a Saturday evening. That meant beer time and chat. When she arrived in the lounge room, all eyes were on her. “Did you find out anything?” Steve was the first to ask.
She sat down on an armchair, frowning. “No and yes,” she said. “She didn’t want to talk at all. She barely looked at me.”
“And what is the “yes” for?” Sam asked, confused.
“She said, she will deal with it herself,” Natasha said. “Which indicates she was not talking about mental or emotional things. This means she was talking about something bigger.”
Bucky was silently sitting next to Sam, watching his friend think out loud. He was holding a beer in his metal hand. No one knew how hard this time had been on him. No one knew how much his heart ached when Y/N stopped talking to him - to everyone.
“Do you think she could be going on a solo mission?” Tony asked.
“Maybe that’s it,” she nodded.
“What the fuck? I thought Fury would discuss it with us,” said Stark angrily. “I’m not saying she can’t handle it alone, but we should know about the mission and discuss it.”
“I have to agree,” Steve nodded. “She works well with us, but I’m not sure she was ready for a solo mission.”
“This whole thing stinks,” Sam said. “Think about it - she’s been talking to Fury for the last few days. Her whole demeanour changed with a snap of fingers.”
“FRIDAY, do we know anything on Y/N?” Tony asked his AI. “What’s her status?”
“She’s currently in her room, not accepting visitors,” said FRIDAY.
“What if she asked for transition?” Clint asked.
“What?” Bucky’s eyes widened. That thought made his heart sink. Why would she want to do that? Was she not happy here? He thought they were friends. He thought that maybe…
Tony made a face. “I don’t think so. We would already know if she was that unhappy.”
“I think we saw a lot of that for the last few days,” said Sam.
“Let’s give her a day and we will try to talk to her tomorrow,” Steve suggested. “We don’t know what is going on and we don’t want to jump to conclusions.”
The team relaxed - except for Bucky and Natasha. They both were thinking about her. They were trying to figure out what was going on.
“We should ask Fury,” said Bucky out of nowhere.
“No,” Natasha shook her head. “If they made a deal, he would keep his lips sealed.”
Y/N didn’t waste her time. She put on her custom tactical suit that would keep her warm even in the cold weather. She packed the most important stuff, but mostly geared up. She would be using her special abilities that she got unwillingly.
She checked her watch. It was time. The sooner she’d leave the better. She wouldn’t be able to say goodbyes to anyone. It was better this way. She put on a long black leather jacket, and a backpack and left her room. She was about to pilot a jet for about six hours. It would be a long night.
Tony was awoken by a beeping sound. He slowly opened his eyes and groaned. He finally got some sleep after a week and he was rudely awakened by his AI.
“Boss,” FRIDAY sounded urgent. “The Jet 05 was taken five hours ago,” she informed him.
He quickly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What? Who authorised it? Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”
“Nick Fury,” FRIDAY answered. “The jet was taken by Agent Y/L/N. I tried to wake you, but you were deep asleep.”
“What the fuck?” he said to himself. “Call the team immediately and I want Nick Fury here as soon as possible.”
The team gathered in the biggest conference room they had. Tony was waiting for them, with a hologram of Y/N’s information presented in the middle of the table. He seemed nervous, even pissed and the team saw it.
“Where did she go?” Natasha was the first one to ask. That’s when a map of the jet's route was shown to them.
“North Canada. She’s still in the air,” said Tony. “The autopilot was turned off and she’s not using FRIDAY. But there is one tracking device she didn’t turn off. That’s why we know her location.”
Bucky was silently sitting in a chair, looking directly at her photo. He should have gone to her, talked to her and convinced her to take him with her.
“You okay?” Steve asked him silently when he noticed his friend struggling.
“No,” he admitted.
Steve sighed and leaned closer to him. “I know how much she means to you, but we need more information before we proceed.”
When Nick stepped into the room, he was met with stern glares and upset people. He expected that. He knew what the reaction would be and he was prepared for everything. “You only figured it out because I arranged it,” he said. “And, also, because Natasha listens.”
“Why don’t we know more about this?” Natasha asked him. “She’s part of the team, part of this family and you two have decided to leave us out of it.”
Fury took a chair next to Stark. He was calm. “There’s a lot of things you still don’t know about her. When we decided to bring her here, we had long discussions about her, the abilities she has and her past. We made a deal: she would tell you her story once she’s ready.”
“Why?” Clint asked.
“It’s not my story to tell,” said Fury. “You cannot expect someone to tell you about other people’s lives. Same here - she wanted trust, she wanted to feel safe before she’d let you in.”
“So, she doesn’t trust us?” Natasha asked.
“She does. It was only a matter of time before she’d tell you everything. This, however, is something bigger than you can imagine. I know all of you had a rough past. Y/N’s the newest member of the Avengers initiative and I gave her my promise not to tell you a word.”
“You are not going to tell us what her mission is?” Steve glared at the director. “We should just wait and see if she comes back?”
Fury nodded. “That’s what she wants.”
Bucky thought back to the moments when they talked together. He recalled one night when they were both sitting on the rooftop of the building when neither of them could sleep. They talked about their nightmares, but she wasn’t specific. There was one thing he could remember her saying.
“I wasn’t born with these powers. They were given to me,” she said sadly, looking at the little purple lights swirling between her fingers.
They were given to her, which meant she was on her way to a place that gave her the powers. His eyes widened. “Holy shit,” he gasped and that brought everyone’s attention.
“What?”
“Two months back, we were sitting on the roof talking and she said to me that she wasn’t born with the power. It was given to her,” Bucky explained.
Natasha caught up. “She’s going to the place where she was given her power.”
Fury nodded. “She didn’t want any backup. She wants to do it alone. I believe she’s ready but I suggested she took someone from the team.”
Barnes abruptly stood up from the chair, letting it fall on the floor and ran out of the conference room. He was ready to find her and be her backup. All he needed was to change, armour up and take a jet.
“Bucky, wait,” Natasha shouted his name.
“I have to find her,” he shouted back, not stopping.
“I’m coming with you. We’ll meet at the hangar.”
Y/N had no idea that the team had figured it all up - sort of. She arrived in the province of Nunavut, Canada. She landed with the jet in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by deep forest. Once the jet was secured, she left her coat in the jet and grabbed some weapons for the mission. All the details she memorised while on her way to this place.
The building was three times bigger than the last complex she was raised in. Many children of various ages were held captive in this Youth Centre. The number was still unknown. That’s what it was called. To the public, it was known as a young offender’s institution - a place where they taught children to be better and do better. Y/N knew the truth. She saw the truth. it was a place where they tortured, killed and experimented on kids. All of the memories came rushing back.
They were as painful as the torture she experienced. For a moment she felt as if she travelled back in time and saw her arms covered in IVs. They were bruised from the needles and burst veins. No wonder she had a problem withdrawing blood or vaccinations.
Her breath became shaky. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the painful feeling crawling through her body.
Using her power, she lifted from the ground and flew through the forest to her final destination. This was her opportunity for revenge - destroy this evil facility and the people who worked there.
What about the children? What about those who were not corrupted and wanted to live freely? She didn’t know. All she wanted was to destroy this place, even if it meant losing her own life. Was it wrong of her to kill everyone? Maybe.
There it was, a castle-like building in the middle of nowhere. When she was young, the Youth Centre was located in the States. Once she freed herself, they relocated here.
She landed in a tree where she had a great vangate point. First, she needed a plan. By looking at the perimeter, she could see at least a dozen soldiers walking around the place, keeping an eye on intruders. From the files Fury gave her, there were potentially at least over a hundred men walking around the building. That was the last thing she feared.
If there were any enhanced children, that would be a problem. It was hard to predict whether they were compelled to obey their orders or if they were still able to think for themselves. The first thing she should do was to infiltrate the building and try to find any children who were still human and try to get them out. Afterwards, it was time to destroy this place.
“If only Wanda and Vision were with us,” Natasha said while piloting the jet.
Bucky was checking his guns and ammo in the back, wanting to be as prepared as possible. They had four hours to go. Y/N’s jet was located in the middle of a forest, in Canada. From the satellite that belonged to Stark, they found a building there too. It made sense that’s where she was going.
“They wanted some time off,” Steve commented. “We will have to do it without them.”
The Captain wanted to join Natasha and Bucky. So did Sam and Tony. Bruce and Clint stayed at the HQ where they monitored the situation from there.
“I will have a serious talk with Y/N once we are on our way home,” said Tony.
“Everyone calm down,” said Natasha. “She’s doing what she thought was the best.”
“I don’t get it,” Sam thought out loud. “How bad could it be?”
Bucky kept his eyes lowered on the gun he had in his hand. He kept replaying all the conversations he had with her. He thought of one moment when they were at Stark’s party.
She was sitting at the bar, drinking wine when he approached her. She looked stunning that night. They joked, commented on the snobby people around them and laughed at the event. “In the end, I’m enjoying this,” she said with a smile.
“Really?” Bucky was surprised. “I thought parties weren’t your thing.”
“That’s true. But I like to enjoy life as it is now. You never know how bad a person had it in the past,” she shrugged and drank the rest of the wine in one go. He could relate to that. If only he knew what her past was.
“How are you doing?” a hand appeared on his shoulder. It was Steve checking up on him.
Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. I keep thinking back at our conversations, trying to find a clue, but I have nothing,” he admitted. “I want her to be safe, Steve. I care about her. I should have told her that a long time ago.”
“We’ll find her and bring her back home,” said Steve reassuringly. “Then you can tell her.”
“I fucking love her, Steve,” he finally admitted to his friend. “I never thought I would after everything that happened. I fear that we’ll be late.”
Y/N’s heart skipped a beat out of nowhere. She frowned. That was odd. She thought it was the adrenaline, but she wasn’t sure.
She was running out of time. The sun would set in less than four hours and she wanted to finish this mission before dark. The plan was simple - attack, use her abilities to kill every man that was there, get inside, look around and find those assholes that started this twisted institute. If they were able to destroy Hydra and the Red Room, she would be able to end this.
She could manipulate objects and create force fields. She had both offensive and defensive abilities. She and Wanda were almost alike. However, Wanda was a witch and was able to do more than Y/N. Wanda said to her, that she’s powerful too.
With a deep breath, she jumped off the tree. Y/N was ready to end it all once and forever.
With her powers, she captured each man who was outside, throwing their bodies to the wall and breaking their bones. Some of them died, some of them were unconscious from the pain. She cleared her path into the building. Once she approached the courtyard, she was met with more men, heavily armed. It seemed as if they were expecting her.
All those emotions, rage, anger, and sadness caused her power to intensify. She was able to cover herself with a forcefield while she disarmed them and destroyed their weapons. That’s when an alarm was turned on.
Focus on the power running through your veins, she heard Wanda say. That’s what she told her all the time when they trained together.
She was powerful, she could do it. She could end it all.
Once all the men were down, she walked to the entrance door. Her adrenaline was high. Somewhere deep, she was thrilled. A smile appeared on her face as she walked further inside. For a brief second, she lost focus and a bullet scratched her shoulder, making her bleed. She groaned from the pain.
Her eyes turned purple as she gathered her strength, surrounded the soldier in her powerful magical grip and threw him out of the nearest window. Fucker.
First, she wandered the hallways of one sector, checking each room. They were empty. She turned to another hallway and checked there - nothing. There were classrooms and offices. It was all empty.
When she met more soldiers, she swiftly defeated them. She took out her gun, ready to use it. She spent a lot of time at the shooting range. When an opportunity came, she shot a man straight into his head. Headshot, she heard a low male voice inside her head.
Weird, there were no children to be found. Was it a trap? It was all too easy. That was until she stepped into a hall where she was met with those who made her the way she was.
Adam Lewinski, the head of the Youth Centre, was staring at her like a hawk. By his side was his wife Greta. He had a right hand, Vladimir Vanko. They were standing at the very end of the hall.
“What a pleasant surprise,” said Adam with a broad smile on his lips. “Did you miss your home?”
They hadn’t aged a lot since she escaped. The woman had grey hair and Vladimir gained weight. Their presence made Y/N nauseous. She wanted to scream from all the pain but nothing came out. Her brain was fogged. She heard a loud ringing sound in her ears.
She registered laughter. “Not so powerful, are you? And you call yourself an Avenger?”
Y/N tried to open her eyes and looked at the cause of her pain. There was a boy, maybe eight years old, using his power on her. How come they were able to modify them to possess such ability?
You know what to do, she heard herself say. There was no other way. She had to do it. Kill him before he kills you. He’s lost.
Gathering her strength, she twisted her hand and sent a purple mist at the child, wrapping it around its neck. With a pull, she heard a loud crack and simultaneously the pain was gone. Taking a deep breath, she fell to her knees. Finally, she could breathe. However, it took its toll on her.
Y/N just killed a child.
Tears flooded her eyes as she tried to breathe through her nose. “Fuck you,” she said with a shaky voice. “How can you use children like this?” She stood up on her feet, glaring at the trio in front of her.
“Haven’t we made you special?” asked Greta and took a step toward Y/N. “Our program gave you the abilities. We made you who you are now. You are an Avenger thanks to us. And yet you are an ungrateful brat,” she laughed.
“You destroyed families. You took children from their parents and killed them. You used us against each other, making us kill one another. Do you think that is normal?” Y/N asked. “Do you think this is a good thing?”
“You don’t understand it, do you?” Vladimir approached her without any fear. His voice was deep and cold. “Without us, you would be nothing. All of those children were meant to be doomed - raised by abusive parents, in the streets. We gave you a new home, we gave you a purpose.”
“No, you didn’t,” Y/N opposed.
Adam whistled. It was a high-pitched sound that echoed around the hall. That’s when more than twenty children entered the hall. Y/N’s eyes widened. Some of them were teenagers, and some of them were literal children. The youngest must have been five years old.
“There are our greatest creations,” Greta said. “They are more powerful than you think - some have superstrength, one is fast, other can cause you pain with a simple touch. You killed our beloved Lucas. He was such an extraordinary boy. Can you imagine harming someone with a simple look?”
“You are nothing compared to them,” Vladimir said. “Just because you can manipulate some objects… as if that was something special,” he laughed.
“We control them,” Vladimir continued. “They would do anything we say - protect us, die for us. They are programmed differently. We didn’t want to allow them to think as a free person.”
“Weapons of mass destruction,” Adam added. “That’s what they are. That’s what they were meant to be.”
Y/N took a good look at those children. They seemed normal, human. Inside, they were modified, and powerful. How powerful? She was about to find out.
“Children, it’s playtime,” Adam clapped his hands.
That was their cue. Slowly, one after another they started to walk towards her. This was the moment she realised how stupid she was to not bring a backup. If she had to die, she’d die trying to stop the potential threat.
“By the way,” she heard Adam say, “some of the children are waiting for their death, others were moved to our buyers. There is a group that will be given the serum once we are done with you.”
You have to kill them, she said to herself. End it all. These are not children anymore, she reminded herself.
That’s when a first child threw a fireball directly at her. She protected herself with a force field. Another hit came right afterwards. Shit. There was a girl that had superstrength. She was able to get close to Y/N and hit her on the right shoulder. Y/N immediately fought back, throwing her against the farther wall. Once she fell to the ground, the wall was covered in her blood.
Luckily, these children were not immortal.
The team landed the jet right next to the one that Y/N took. Bucky was the first one to run out of the jet, running to the other one to check it. He didn’t find her. “Fuck,” he mumbled, holding her leather jacket tightly in his fists.
“We’ve got to move,” Steve ordered the team. “We don’t know how much time we got.”
The newest nano-tech suit covered Tony’s body. He was ready for some action. “FRIDAY, talk to me. What do we have?”
“I have analysed the building. There are many dead people. I have captured activity inside the building. It looks like Miss Y/L/N is there,” she informed them. “Boss, if the scanning is correct, she’s fighting children.”
Natasha’s eyes widened, not believing what she heard. “What?” she gasped. “What do you mean children?”
“The place is holding captive more than 80 children. A group of them are now in an active battle with Miss Y/L/N,” said the AI.
“Children?” Sam said to himself.
“I can capture levels of power coming from the place.”
“Enhanced,” said Steve. Slowly, they were putting the pieces together. “This must be the place where she gained her abilities.”
“This must be the place where she grew up,” Natasha whispered.
Bucky’s heart ached. She went to fight her demons alone. He was the first one to move, leaving the team standing there. “Wait,” Natasha called after him. “We need a plan.”
“No, we need to move, now, before it’s too late.”
“He’s right,” Steve nodded. “Tony, Sam, get in the sky and secure the perimeter. Keep us updated.”
The time was ticking.
Y/N was bleeding from her nose. Her body ached as the children took turns, trying to kill her. So far, she was able to eliminate five of them. It was becoming more difficult. They were stronger than her. They didn’t have any emotions. All they wanted to do was finish her off. Y/N’s energy was low. It was hard to keep up with them.
Before she knew it, they captured her and brought her down on her knees. The girl with superstrength punched her in the face, making her bleed from her mouth. She tore her skin under the right eye. Another hit was on her stomach. Y/N groaned from all the pain and spit out some blood.
Her vision was blurred. Her ears were ringing and it was hard to breathe. This was it. She was too weak to defeat a bunch of enhanced children. Their experiments were different than back in the day. They had no mercy.
You need to kill them all, she heard a voice in her head. They are not children anymore.
Out of nowhere, she could see the faces of people she loved the most. Natasha was smiling at her. Steve had a proud look on his face, and Sam laughed as if she said the funniest joke ever. And then there was Bucky who kept lovingly staring at her, holding his hand stretched out to her. You are stronger than you think.
Oh, how she loved him. She would never be able to tell him. She was too scared to do so and now, she wouldn’t have the chance. The love she had for her family and for that man brought a warm feeling to her chest. It was beautiful and pleasant. It made her want to fight more.
“Any last words?” she heard Adam’s voice echo around her.
“Burn in hell,” she mumbled.
Y/N gathered all the energy she had left. She never did this before. As if her body was telling her what to do, guiding her through the unknown and making her release it all for the whole world to see - her full potential.
With a painful scream erupting from her throat, she released the power from her entire body. Each child was thrown away into the cracking walls of the building that started to shake from its core. The ceiling started to fall and the stability of the building weakened.
“You are going to kill us all,” she heard Greta scream.
Y/N’s purple mist changed into purple-blue electricity, surrounding her body. The ground under her started to shake. It reminded her of an earthquake. She closed her eyes and let it all consume her. Everyone dead meant no more potential threat to the world. And then, she threw her hands up in the air.
“What the hell is happening?” Sam asked once he flew over the building. “Something’s not right.”
“The building is about to collapse,” FRIDAY informed them. “There is a high amount of energy surrounding the place. It belongs to Miss Y/L/N.”
“No!” Bucky screamed.
When the Captain, the Widow and the Soldier arrived at the border of the estate, they watched as the whole building started to fall before their eyes. Blue and purple cracks appeared on the walls. They were watching it without breath until the rays of Y/N’s power got out of the building. There was a sound that reminded them of an explosion. And then the building collapsed.
Everyone got covered in dust and the place got silent. The team kept staring at the ruins of the building. It was unrecognizable. No one could have survived it.
“Holy shit,” someone said.
Bucky fell on his knees, not believing that he had lost her. He couldn’t breathe. All he could feel was pain. His heart shattered. There was no way she could have survived it.
“FRIDAY,” Tony mumbled the AI’s name. “Any signs of life?”
“Scanning.”
“Holy shit,” Sam said once he landed next to Steve. “What the fuck happened?”
“I don’t know,” Steve replied. Once he could see better, he moved forward.
“No signs of life, boss,” said FRIDAY after a minute.
“Shit,” he sighed.
They all started to walk on the remains, trying to find Y/N’s body. Natasha could see tiny hands sticking out of the bricks and wood. It was a horrifying look. So far, she counted six dead children. When she noticed an adult hand, she quickly ran to it, trying to lift any boulder covering the body. Unfortunately, it wasn’t her. It belonged to an unknown woman. “More people were present,” she said into her comm so the rest of the team could hear her. “I have a woman, mid-fifties, without signs of life.”
They kept walking around, counting the people who died. No one could find Y/N’s body.
“I’ve called Fury,” Tony informed them. “He’ll be sending a team of people here to get out the bodies and identify the children. Agent Hill and her team that is in Canada will be here in two hours.”
Steve had his eyes locked on the ground. He kept searching the ruins until he found another hand. This one was familiar. The nails were covered in dust and dark red nail polish. His heart skipped a beat. He prepared himself and uncovered the body.
It was her. Y/N’s body was covered in dirt. Her forehead was torn and bleeding. Her face had bruises. The suit was torn in many places. “I found her,” he informed the team, swallowing the grief.
He squatted down, his fingers gently brushed her cheek. A tear escaped his eye. Why didn’t she call them? They would have helped. This should have ended differently.
Natasha was the first to arrive, gasping when she saw her friend lying there, dead. A sob escaped her lips. Then Sam arrived, not believing his eyes. It was difficult for them to see her like this - lifeless, beaten and dead.
Steve was about to lift her body into his arms when he heard a heavy intake of breath. Quickly, he put two fingers on her neck, trying to find a pulse. “Shit,” he gasped when he felt it under his two fingers. “She’s still alive!”
Tony flew to them, letting FRIDAY take a complete scan. “Vital signs critical.”
Natasha and Sam helped him take her out of the ruins. Steve held her tightly in his arms as he quickly, yet carefully, walked over the bricks, food and stones. One of her arms was lifelessly hanging down.
“Let me take her,” Sam suggested. “I can fly her to the jet and get her to the nearest hospital. I know some people from the military.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Tony.
Steve nodded and handed her body to Sam. Before Bucky could approach them and see with both eyes she was indeed alive, both Tony and Sam flew away from them to the jets.
“No, wait,” Bucky shouted at them. “I wanted to…”
“She’s on the verge of life and death,” Steve stopped Bucky by putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “She needs immediate medical attention. We will get to her, all right?”
“But Steve-”
“I know, Buck. I know you are worried. We all are. We can only hope that they will make it on time.” Steve could see the fear in Bucky’s eyes. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much they could do for her.
She was in and out of consciousness. Her ears registered the rumbling sound of a jet engine. Was she in the jet? She wasn’t sure. Was that the sound of the falling building? All she felt was pain and her brain brought her back to the moments she’d like to erase from her memory forever.
All of a sudden, she was sitting on a rustic chair with her hands tied behind her back. She was so small, still a child, maybe ten years old. The cold brought goosebumps to her skin. The window in the room was open. It was early winter. They left her sitting there in her underwear as a punishment. Suddenly, someone was holding her cheeks, screaming into her face. It was one of the guards. He pulled her hair, smacked her face and kept yelling. She felt as if she was suffocating.
Y/N, she heard her name somewhere in the distance. Hold on. We are almost there.
“Hi,” she heard Bucky greet her. When she turned around, he was sitting on the couch in the lounge room. It was that time when she couldn’t sleep because her past was still haunting her. “Are you okay?”
“Can’t sleep,” she walked to the couch and sat down next to him. “Bad dreams.”
“I get that. Sometimes it is hard to rest after a difficult mission. Nightmares invade your mind and won’t let you sleep,” he said.
She looked at him, memorizing every detail on his handsome face. “Do you… Do you ever wish that you were killed?”
He looked into her eyes and took a deep breath. “I used to,” he replied. “Now, I don’t.”
They kept staring into each other’s eyes. “Yeah, same,” she smiled at him.
That’s when she was pulled into the darkness. She felt more vibrations. What was it? Where was the jet taking her? Was it the jet? Please, stay with us, she heard someone’s voice.
I’m right here.
There was a big white room where she was lying on a cold metal table. Her body was tied to it. All she could see were the IVs coming out of her body. So far she counted six. Four on her arms, one on her neck and another one on her right leg. Her mouth was closed shut with a mask. She wanted to cry but deep down she knew it was to no avail. They would punish her and make her suffer more. Just be a good girl and do as we say.
They made everyone suffer. It didn’t matter that some of the children were maybe three years old. Nothing mattered, only the next mission, the next experiment.
Will life get better?
Again, darkness. This time, she was swimming in it for a long time. It seemed that there was nothing more to show. Or maybe this was the end - darkness, nothingness. There was no heaven or hell, only darkness.
Y/N, I’m right here with you. Please wake up. That voice was familiar. It brought a warm feeling to her chest. She tried to swim to it, as fast as it let her. Wake up for me. Was it Bucky?
Y/N opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was a white light. It hurt her eyes and she blinked a few times. Her ears registered the sound of beeping machines. It was a steady beep, the one that monitored someone's heart. Slowly, turning her head from side to side, she noticed an unknown woman standing by her bed, checking up on her.
“What happened?” Y/N whispered. Her throat was dry and her voice was raspy.
The nurse gasped and quickly found a device that called any doctor. “You are awake,” she seemed surprised. “Oh my god,” she seemed surprised.
“What?”
The door to the hospital room opened and a doctor with another nurse came in. He was immediately standing next to Y/N, checking her eyes with a tiny light. “Everything seems fine so far,” said the doctor. His voice was echo-y. He showed his index fingers to her. “Squeeze them as tightly as possible.”
Very slowly, Y/N wrapped her hands around his fingers, trying to squeeze them with all her strength. It wasn’t much but it was enough. The doctor seemed satisfied.
“That’s great,” he said. “We were waiting for you to wake up, Miss Y/L/N.”
“How long was I out?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Over three weeks,” he replied. “You had a ruptured spleen that we had to take out. There’s been some internal bleeding that we stopped. You also had a concussion which led you into a coma for a few weeks,” he explained. “We stitched some of your wounds, you also have bruised ribs. Surprisingly, nothing was broken.”
She remained silent, thinking about what happened. “Where am I?”
The doctor frowned. “Do you remember anything?”
“Yes,” she sighed, tired from all those questions. “I was supposed to die. Am I back in the US or am I still in Canada?”
“You are back in the States,” he said, relieved that she knew what was going on around her. “Currently, you are still in New York, Langone Hospital.”
“Has,” she dryly gulped. She wanted water. “Has anyone been here?”
“You had several visitors. The last one we sent home because the visiting hours had ended. But, now, we need to inform Director Fury about your current state. I’ll let the nurses bring you water and we will give you another IV with antibiotics.”
“IV?” she panicked. Her eyes widened when he said that. Immediately, she looked at her arm, scanning the needle. Her heart started to beat fast. She needed to overcome her fear. Quickly, she shut her eyes, trying to rest before any potential visitors.
The doctor saw it. “Do not worry. We are giving you antibiotics, nothing else,” he reassured her. “We won’t hurt you, Miss Y/L/N. I need you to stay calm and we will call Director Fury as soon as possible.”
With a simple nod, she released a loud exhale. No one knew about her fear of needles. They never witnessed her getting one and she avoided any at all costs. The less they knew, the better, right?
She fell asleep for another hour when she heard the door open. She stirred and gently opened her eyes, looking directly at Nick Fury. “I’m glad you are alive,” he said.
Y/N huffed. “I should have listened, I guess,” she whispered.
“Yes, you should,” he nodded and pulled a chair closer to her bed. “Do you remember it?”
“I remember it all,” she said. “I had to do it, sir. It needed to stop them. Some of the children were already sold,” he cleared her throat. Fury brought a cup of water with a straw to her lips and helped her drink from it. He didn’t let her take much. “Thank you.”
“Not bringing any backup was stupid, Y/N.”
“I know. I know. Will I,” she stopped, not daring to finish the sentence.
He sighed. “There won’t be any repercussions,” he answered. “We were dealing with a global threat,” he explained. “The Youth Centre was as bad as Hydra. Unfortunately, they used children, experimented on them and killed them. We gathered a lot of information during these past few weeks and have enough evidence that even though the children died, it was for the better.”
“I am so sorry,” Y/N started to cry softly. “I looked. I couldn’t find anyone once I killed a lot of guards. They were hidden somewhere.”
“Here is the good thing,” he stopped her. “Once we cleared the debris, we managed to uncover an underground place where there were around fifty children hidden in a cellar.” When he said that her eyes widened. “You didn’t kill all those children. You saved them. These children were not enhanced yet. They were abused a lot. Fortunately, no serum was given to them.”
“They are fine?”
“With a lot of therapy, they will be fine,” he nodded.
Y/N wanted to say something. When she noticed how he was staring at her, she forgot what she had on her mind. “What?”
“How did you do it?” he had to ask. “How did you destroy the building?”
She opened her mouth. How did she do it? It never happened before. She knew what her abilities were. This thing came out of nowhere. She thought back to the moment it happened. There was this feeling inside her that intensified and she released it out. “I have no idea,” she said honestly. “I wish I knew.”
Fury simply patted her shoulder and stood up. “We will discuss it once you are out of here. The doctor said that if your condition remains the same until tomorrow, they will transport you into the HQ to the hospital wing.”
That’s when she remembered the rest of the team. “Are- Are they angry at me?” she lowered her gaze.
“Confused,” he said. “They don’t understand why you did it. Thanks to Romanoff and Barnes, they slowly figured things out.”
Bucky. Her heart dropped. She knew he would hate her the most. “How did I get here?”
“Because they figured out where you went, and I left one of the tracking devices online, they came to help. However, before they were able to do anything, the building was destroyed and they thought you died,” Fury explained. “Relax. Nothing is as bad as it seems.”
“So you broke the promise,” she said.
“No,” he shrugged, keeping his voice on a funnier tone. “I didn’t say a word. I simply left some clues.”
He was about to leave the room when she stopped him. “What am I supposed to do now?” she asked.
“Rest,” he turned to her one more time. “And talk to the team. I believe they would like to see you. The last person that was here was Barnes. He looked terrible. No wonder. That man spent most of his days here. ”
She couldn’t believe it. Did Bucky keep visiting her while she was in a coma? Why would he do that?
Y/N was left alone. Another round of sleep came to her. She didn’t have much energy and another cat nap would only do her good. This time, her mind was not invaded by any bad dreams. Maybe it was the drugs?
She was awakened by something soft and warm pressed against the back of her hand. When she opened her eyes, she found Bucky pressing his lips to her hand, whispering something. He was sad and tired. Y/N squeezed his hand and he quickly looked up at her.
“Y/N,” he whispered her name. “You are awake.”
“Hi,” she greeted him. “I woke up today,” she whispered. “It was time.”
“We thought we lost you,” his voice broke. “I thought I lost you,” and he pressed another kiss to her hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Weak. A bit confused,” she admitted. “If all goes well, I’ll be relocated to the HQ tomorrow. Uh, can you bring me water, please?” Bucky was quick to take the glass with a straw and brought it closer to her lips. When she started to drink it, their eyes locked. “Thank you,” she said when she finished.
He opened his mouth, ready to tell her something. However, Natasha, Steve and Sam entered the room before he could make a sound. The redhead was first by her side, carefully hugging her. Steve and Sam stood behind Bucky, smiling.
“You scared the shit out of us,” said Natasha when she pulled out of the hug.
“I’m sorry,” said Y/N.
“Why didn’t you ask us to come with you?” Nat asked. “You know we would have helped you.”
Y/N’s eyes slowly moved to Bucky who kept looking at her. She wished they could be alone. It was hard to come up with a relevant answer and, in all honestly, she’d rather sit in silence with him. She thought he’d hate her. So far, it has nothing to do with hate.
Sam started to talk about… something. Y/N wasn’t listening. It was something about a game of darts. Steve told her how the rest of the team thought highly of her and that Wanda and Vision would be back in two days.
Her eyes were slowly closing while she kept listening to their stories. No one wanted to mention the mission. They kept her mind occupied with something else.
A nurse came to the room with a new IV and a bag. “It’s time to let her rest,” she informed them. “I suggest you come tomorrow.”
Natasha gently hugged her and the rest of them said their goodbyes. Bucky was the last one to leave. He noticed how Y/N was panicking when the nurse was about to take out her IV. Y/N turned her head, trying to breathe deeply. That’s when she found out he was still there. Tears welled up in her eyes.
He took a few big steps and was immediately by her side. “Hey, it’s okay,” he tried to calm her. “I’m right here, Y/N. Keep looking at me.”
She only nodded and pursed her lips only to keep her sobs hidden. Bucky found her free hand and took it into his, holding it tightly. He didn’t question it.
“I’m sorry, but you should-”
“I’m staying,” said Bucky to the nurse harshly, not giving her a single look. The woman kept her mouth shut and took out the needle of Y/N’s arm.
“It’s going to be a minute, alright? Focus on me,” he kept talking to Y/N. “You are doing so well.”
Bucky knew not to ask, not now. He stayed there until the nurse was done and Y/N had a new IV ready. “All done,” said the nurse.
“It’s all done,” Bucky repeated for her. She snuggled her head into his chest and silently cried. She hated every moment of it. Nothing scared her more than IVs. She hated them with her whole being.
He kept stroking her slightly greasy hair, trying to calm her down. Five minutes later, he realised that she had fallen asleep while being snuggled to him. Bucky kissed the top of her head and gently pushed her away. He fixed her body on the bed and stroked her cheek. Once again, he remained sitting next to the bed. This time, his body was relaxed because he knew she was conscious and well.
Y/N was confused when she woke up the next day and she was alone in the room. She knew Bucky was the last one with her, helping her get through her fear of IVs. Now, no one was present. She sighed sadly.
For the next few hours, she kept taking naps and watching TV that was installed in the room. That was until it was time to transfer her to the HQ as promised. She couldn’t be more thrilled.
Everything went smoothly. They helped her take a shower after weeks and prepared her for transfer. Before she knew it, they wheeled her into the medical wing of the compound. The first thing she noticed was the bouquet of red roses standing next to her bed. There was her phone and a book she didn’t finish. The bed was way more comfortable than the one in the regular hospital. And, as if it wasn’t enough, there were snacks in the drawer next to the bed.
“Do you like it?” said a voice from the door to her room.
When she turned her head and saw Bucky standing at the door, smiling. Instantly, there was a smile on her face. “You did this?”
He walked to her. “Yes. I wanted you to feel good, homely.”
“That is so sweet,” she said and yawned. It was time to lie down and gain more energy. She stretched her arm to him and signed him to take it. “I love roses.”
Bucky couldn’t do it faster. They held hands for a good minute, staring at each other silently.
This was his moment. He couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned to her and pressed his lips to her. The first good sign was, she didn’t pull away. The kiss was sweet, just as he imagined it would be, if not better. He could stay like this forever.
Bucky smelled like a menthol shower gel. She could breathe his scent until her very last day. How glad she was they made her take a shower before transfer.
When he pulled away, he kept his forehead pressed against her. “I love you,” he whispered, finally admitting his feelings. “I’ve loved you for some time now.”
Y/N smiled. “I love you too, Buck.” She couldn’t be any happier. “I was worried you’d hate me.”
He looked into her eyes. “I could never do that. I was upset that you didn’t want me there. I thought my life ended when they found you without any sign of life.” His gorgeous blue eyes filled with tears. “I really thought I lost you.”
She put both hands on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t be. You are alive, here with us, with me. That’s all that matters.”
She kissed him again, this time deepening the kiss. Bucky’s metal hand travelled to her neck and pulled her to him as much as it was possible. The cold made her gasp and that was the moment he used and explored her mouth with his tongue.
Someone cleared their throat. Slowly, they both turned their head to the sound and disconnected their lips. Steve and Sam were standing at the door, smiling like school girls.
“Sorry to interrupt, love birds,” said Sam, giggling.
“You are ruining the moment,” Bucky snarled at him. “Can you come later?”
“You know what?” Y/N interrupted, patting Bucky’s hand. “Stay. Please. I need to talk to you. Could you also call the rest of the team? I- I need to tell you everything. Please.”
“Okay,” Bucky nodded and before he left, he kissed the top of her hair.
Steve and Sam were still grinning at her. They sat down on a small sofa that was next to the bed. “So, you two, huh?” said Sam, winking at her.
“Sam,” Steve nudged his shoulder. “How are you feeling?” he turned his head to Y/N, genuinely concerned.
“I’m getting better by the minute,” she admitted with a smile. “Still tired though. The doctor said I need to rest here for another few days. Afterwards, I can leave this place and rest back home - or in my room.”
“Or in Bucky’s arms,” Sam teased. Steve smacked his shoulder.
“And no active missions until we are sure you are healthy and strong. We can use you from here,” said Steve.
“Yes, Captain,” she winked at him. “And I am really sorry for what happened.”
Natasha was the first to run into the room. Before Y/N knew it, the woman was hugging her again and taking a seat next to her. “I’m glad you are here with us,” she said with a smile. “The rest of the team will be here any minute. You okay?”
“Yeah,” Y/N nodded with a smile. She fidgeted a little. “Just nervous.”
“Why are you nervous?” she asked. “You don’t have to be. We’ve been through a lot together. It’s going to be fine.”
Clint, Tony and Bruce entered the room. They greeted Y/N with gentle hugs. While they were chatting, Wanda and Vision unexpectedly walked into the room. Y/N’s eyes almost popped out. “Holy shit,” she gasped.
Wanda was quick enough to come to her and pulled her into a tight loving embrace. “Don’t ever scare me like that,” was the first thing the woman whispered into her ear.
“I’m sorry.” Wanda and Y/N had a special bond. There was something a little more special than she had with Natasha. But all three women were very close.
With a kiss on her forehead, she sat by her other side which was not occupied by anyone. Both friends were by her side. And yet she wished Bucky was the one sitting with her. He was the last one to return. His eyes noticed that he wouldn’t be able to sit next to the woman he loved.
Without stalling, Y/N started to talk about her past - how her childhood was taken away from her.
“I remember playing outside. My mother was there with me. It was a beautiful warm day. I don’t remember the city I was born in or her name. What I do remember is the sound of her painful cry. It happened so quickly. The next thing I knew, I was in a place that became my new home.”
Everyone listened and didn’t ask questions or intervene.
“There’s been always at least 20 to 40 children - all ages. We were raised there. They taught us everything that they considered important as well as basic skills such as reading, writing and math. I guess it was similar to Red Room,” she looked at Natasha. “They started to experiment on us very early, as well as they started to kill us. There was this older girl, about seventeen and she was on her way to becoming enhanced. Unfortunately, the last experiment changed her personality and she turned into a psychopath. Because of that, they killed her and everyone who was undergoing the same treatments as her. Of course, they did it in front of us.
“The first time it happened, I vomited as well as other kids. They punished us and we stayed without food for a week. The only thing we had was water. They kept us between four cold walls. One time,” she put a grimace on her face, “one of the soldiers tried to drown me because I refused to pleasure him. I was eleven.”
Y/N noticed how Wanda’s eyes closed. She tried to remain stoic. When her eyes scanned each person, no one could look at her, even Bucky’s eyes were on the floor.
“It happened at least once a week,” she continued. “Unfortunately, when they break you, they’ll get what they want. And they’ll find a way to do it again and again.” Her voice started to shake. “Then comes a turn and once the time is right, you make them suffer.”
She thought about that particular moment and told them about it. She was sixteen when the experiment was successful and she gained abilities. The guards, who loved to play with her, were met with her rage. She killed them all.
“Thus, my plan to escape started a few days after that. I managed to leave the place that tortured me for years. A place where even though I gained something powerful, broke me in many ways. They took me away from my mother and destroyed my childhood and teenage years.”
This time, a tear escaped her eye and gently caressed her cheek. “I never thought things would get better. I was hiding around the States and in Europe. I became a mercenary only to have some money. Now, here we are… After all that death and torture, I am still alive. That’s why I wanted to, no, needed to do this alone. I needed to finish this and kill them because they were a threat to everyone. I didn’t want to risk your lives for my pain, my past.”
The team was silent. No one knew what to say. What could a person say after everything they’ve heard?
“Don’t look at me like that,” Y/N shook her head. “You’ve all had traumatic pasts.”
Natasha was the one who said it out loud. “No one was raped when they were a child.”
“Well, there are other things that did not happen to me, but did happen to you,” said Y/N. “We live in a fucked up world. Now we have the ability to make it better.”
. . .
Bucky had his normal hand on the steering wheel while his metal hand held Y/N’s. He proposed a trip - a few days off, without the team somewhere outside of New York. Just the two of them, enjoying their time together. It was nice of him to take her out.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, giggling. “Come on, Buck, just give me a hint.”
“We’ll be there in a minute. Please, wait and you’ll see,” he said with a smile.
At first, they flew to Colorado and spent a nice day walking around Denver and enjoying the food and entertainment. Today, he took her for a ride. They were slowly driving through a peaceful neighbourhood. There was nothing special about it - houses, families walking around and enjoying the day.
Y/N took a deep breath through her nose. She became nervous. “Did you buy us a house?” she had to ask.
That’s when he parked the car and looked at her. “No,” he shook his head. “I know I should have asked you about this, but after everything, I figured this would be something you’d want to do,” he started. “I’ve been searching for several days until I found what I wanted and that’s why I brought you here.”
She frowned at him, not liking how cryptic he was. Bucky quickly kissed her lips and then got out of the car. Because he was a gentleman, he went to Y/N’s door and opened it for her. “I’m nervous,” she said when she stepped out.
He grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. He slowly took her to one of the houses. It was of smaller size, but it was a nice place to live. Once they were at the front door, he loudly knocked on them. “I figured that maybe you’d want to…”
The door opened. A woman in her mid-fifties was standing there, dressed in casual comfortable clothes. From her face, she seemed shocked. “Oh my god,” she whispered.
Bucky didn’t need to say a word. Y/N figured it all out. She could feel it inside her soul that she knew this person. “Mum?”
“It’s you,” the woman started to sob. “You are alive.” She pulled Y/N into a tight embrace, crying into her shoulder. “Oh my god, my sweet angel, you are alive.” When she pulled away, she grabbed Y/N’s face into her hands, scanning every detail to memorize it. “Your wonderful friend came to me a week ago, saying that he knows you. He told me, that my beautiful baby is alive.”
Y/N looked at Bucky, her eyes filled with tears. “Yeah, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
#Bucky Barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes x female reader#Bucky Barnes x you#Bucky Barnes Y/N#Avenger Bucky Barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes fanfiction#Marvel fanfiction#James Barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes
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