#sometimes i think about that and i am like: bring me time machine

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for performing a wellness check on a student?

I (~30M) am a science teacher at a high school. It's great getting to introduce these students to some fascinating concepts in science and expand their horizons, but there is one student, S, who has taken to it in a bit of an odd fashion. She (16F) can be a little obtuse in class, sometimes trying to contradict what I or her other teachers say. She has these moments that make me feel like she's leagues ahead of the rest of her class, and maybe even me, but she simply hasn't been turning in her homework, which has me concerned.

The other day, one of my colleagues, B (~30F) approached me and asked about S. Apparently I'm not the only one who's noticed that S can be a bit odd sometimes. B has been worried, and asked S if everything was alright at home and if she could potentially visit and make sure. But she said S told her that her grandfather doesn't like strangers so it wouldn't work. But her grandfather is apparently a doctor, who I'd think would have to interact with strangers regularly??? I'm not sure what to make of that. B tried to swing by S's home anyways, but there was no house at that address? There was enough there that B and I were seriously concerned.

Which brings me to the part where we may be assholes. See, B had an idea to… well, follow S home. By the time school got out, it was dark and we didn't want her walking home alone, so we offered to accompany her, but she refused. B and I drove ahead to her address to see if this was in fact where she lived. There may have been better approaches if we'd taken the time to think about it, but we were really concerned for her in the moment and thought there might be something bad or fishy going on and neither of us want S to come to harm.

Eventually we saw her enter this abandoned lot and we went in after her, but she was nowhere to be seen! There was a cranky old man who we thought might have kidnapped her. He tried to goad us into calling the police. I almost did, too, before we heard S cry out. B and I followed her voice and ended up inside her home. Apparently, that cranky old man was her grandfather and he was pretty pissed that we had just barged in on him. I understand where he was coming from, and I've honestly been second-guessing whether we did the right thing. As I'm posting this, he's taken us back in time to the Stone Age in his time machine (which I thought was just a blue police box at first), which feels like a bit of an overreaction, but I'm not sure.

Am I (or are we) The Asshole(s) for trying to look after one of our students who was behaving strangely?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #fandom aita #unreality #doctor who #classic who #i only know this one because of an old mutual who posted so much classic doctor who #i keep telling myself that i'll watch it someday but it'd probably take someone sitting down with me to do it #good enough to post on purpose

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Could I request something with a reader who is worried that they might be too dumb for Donnie? Preferably 2012, but whichever iteration you'd like is fine ❤️

Am I Not Smart Enough For You? (Fluff)

2012!Donatello x reader

A/N: Had to do 2012 Donnie, because it feels like a long time ago since I last did one for him💜

Warnings: None💜

In the heart of the bustling sewers beneath New York City, Donatello was deeply engrossed in his latest project. The soft glow of computer screens illuminated his determined features as he meticulously tinkered away, his mind swimming with circuits and algorithms, moving back and forth between his monitor and the large machine that stood proudly in the middle of his lab, slowly growing larger with each passing day.

Donnie was fully caught up in his work, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth, as he watched his fingers move with concentration, that he did not see you enter the lab.

You stood at the entrance of Donnie's lab, a worried expression furrowing your brow as you watched him work. Long had there been a worrisome topic, that you had wanted to turn over with your turtle boyfriend, knowing it was best to bring it up so you could talk about it, instead of staying silent, letting the problem grow until there was no way to fix it. You admired Donnie’s brilliance, and his intellect that seemed to know no bounds, but sometimes, it left you feeling inadequate. Doubts gnawed at the corners of your mind, whispering cruel thoughts about your own intelligence compared to his. In some ways, you felt horrible for even thinking that Donnie would think less of you, due to lesser intellect, but if you were a genius like him, you would probably feel alienated, especially when your own partner did not know what you were talking about, and simply unable to understand. You loved listening to Donnie’s drawn out explanation, even if you didn’t understand a word. But it was the way his eyes would light up, and how his body would move with sudden energy, and a bright smile on his face. It made it all worth it, even if you were too dim to follow along.

With a heavy sigh, you finally spoke up, your voice hesitant yet tinged with concern, as you slowly stepped into the lab. "Hey, Donnie?"

Donnie glanced up from his work, his eyes softening as they met yours, along with a smile, obviously happy to see your unannounced visit to the lair. "Hey, (Y/N). What’s you doing down here? Did you text? I didn’t see your message".

You hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt nervously. That caused Donnie to halt in his movements, his eyes focusing on your hands. It was obvious to him that you weren’t just down here to say hello.

"I... I've been thinking”. That sounded like the start of a sentence, that Donnie only could fear the ending of. His heart increased in speed, and his mind raced, praying that you weren’t about to say the thing that would tear his world apart. “Do you ever... worry that I'm not smart enough for you?"

Your question was almost a relief for Donnie, who had feared something way worse. He blinked at you for a moment, before he finally realized what you were asking about. Donnie's expression softened with understanding as he set aside his tools, his attention fully on you now, his arms reaching out for you, asking you to come closer. "Oh, (Y/N), no. Never for a second. You're incredibly smart in your own way".

You blinked, surprised by his response. "But... but you're a genius, Donnie. And I'm just... me. Sometimes it feels like I can't keep up with you, like I'm always a step behind whenever you talk about your projects".

Donnie reached out, gently taking your hand in his own, his fingers gliding over your soft skin in soothing and comforting motions. "Being intelligent isn't just about knowing facts and figures, (Y/N). It's about understanding, creativity, and so much more. And in those areas, you shine brightly. I mean, look at your art! Your drawings, your paintings. Even Mikey is jealous of those".

You swallowed back the lump forming in your throat, touched by his words. You looked down on your hands in his strong three fingers once, blinking away a few tears. "But what if I mess up? What if I'm not enough for you?"

"Don't you see?" Donnie's voice was earnest, his gaze unwavering. "You are more than enough. You bring a perspective to the table that I could never have on my own. You challenge me, inspire me, and make me see things in a different light. That's what makes our relationship special. And I love you. That is more than enough for me".

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of relief and gratitude flooding through you. "Thank you, Donnie. I needed to hear that".

He smiled warmly, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "Anytime, (Y/N). I'm here for you, always".

And as you leaned into his embrace, the doubts that once plagued your mind began to fade away, replaced by a newfound sense of confidence in the love you shared with the brilliant turtle who held your heart. In the heart of the genius, there was always room for love, understanding, and acceptance. And together, you knew you could weather any storm that came your way.

“I love you, Donnie”, you said, your face buried against his shoulder, feeling warm and comfortable in his arms.

You felt his chest vibrate with a small chuckle, before he pressed his lips to the side of your head, kissing the side of your temple. “I love you too, (Y/N)”. He pulled from the hug, before using his foot to reach out for another chair, letting it roll over next to him. “But now that you’re here, do you want to help me? I really need your thoughts on something”.

You smiled at Donnie, happy that his statement about your perspective in things wasn't just something he said to make you feel better, but something he actually meant. And so you took a seat next to him, smiling brightly as he showed you what he had worked on.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo #tmnt x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 donatello #tmnt 2012 donnie x reader #tmnt 2012 donatello x reader #tmnt 2012 leo #tmnt 2012 leonardo #tmnt 2012 raphael #tmnt 2012 raph #tmnt 2012 michelangelo #tmnt 2012 mikey

[mudisgranapat]

FitnessInfluencer!Reader x GymBro!Ghost

so i’ve recently really gotten into going to the gym and i can’t stop thinking about Ghost working out and reader being an annoying influencer that is always recording at the gym. the last thing he needs is a camera in his face when he is trying to work out and de-compress from his deployment.

After finally finding a 24 hour gym, you get your things ready to film your content. Your youtube channel is one of the most popular nowadays, and it’s the platform where you make most of your videos. Most of them teach people workout series, ranging from stuff they can do at home, hardcore exercises and even a step to step guide on how to use each gym equipment, so newbies don’t get scared of training for the first time by themselves. However, sometimes, you do some vlogging on the side, showing your daily routine and other things, like skincare.

You figure 3 am is a good time to go to the gym and record - no one is at training by then and your schedule is already fucked anyways. Not having an office or regular work hours has its ups and downs, but at least you are in charge of own routine, since you make a surprisingly good amount of money from your videos.

You take your own time, making a protein smoothie (and obvioulsy recording it, as you had a paid partnership with the supplement’s brand) and writing down your ideas for the video you want to do today. You stick to a simple “leg day” vlog, typing on your phone what machines and reps you want to do.

Choosing a simple purple top and matching leggings, you make your way towards the gym on your Range Rover, Stanley cup filled with water on the cup holder. You roll your eyes as you make a turn and can feel the water dripping out of the cup. You make a note to yourself to bring a water bottle the actually works next time and keep it off camera, so the useless cup can just sit on frame for aesthetic purposes while your record.

If you had to point out one thing you hated about your job, it would be having to keep up with all the (in your opinion, useless) trends, so you could reach a bigger audience. At the end of the day, it was about making money, although you loved how your content got to inspire people to be more active. If it meant you had to carry a metal 40oz lead poisoned cup with you for a couple of hours, then so be it.

As soon as you park your car at the gym’s empty parking lot, you pull out your vlog camera, not noticing the single black truck parked in the far corner, under a tree.

Sometimes you wonder if you would hate your “vlog persona” if you met her in real life. Repeating the same phrases over and over again, trying to get the best take, constantly looking for better lighting. What looks good on camera, in real life, just looks painfully awkward sometimes, specially when you are talking to an audience that isn’t even there. You push those thoughts to the back of your head, as you slide your card at the gym’s card reader, opening the doors.

“Anyways, guys. I know it sounds crazy right?” You make your way into the gym, re-recording the introduction at least 3 times so you know you’ll have good material to edit later. “Training at 3 a.m. I don’t even know if it’s technically morning or night right now.” You joke to the camera. “Let me know in the comments if I should start the videos with ‘Good morning’ or ‘Goodni’-“ a hand suddenly grabs the camera from your hand, holding it right above your head. You stare at the man who seemed to materialise out of the shadows.

“How about ‘Goodbye’.” He says, and you barely have time to register his sarcasm as he slams your camera on the floor, breaking it in pieces. You stand there, frozen, while the man swings his duffel bag over his shoulders and heads out of the gym.

When you finally regain your senses, he is long gone, and you’re left wondering to yourself, not only who he is, but also who does he think he is. You barely had time to register what he looked like, simply recalling we was well over 6ft tall and build like a fucking tank. But regardless of his built, if he believes, even for a second, that he can do something like that and just walk away unscathed, he is dead wrong.

You can’t wait to see him again.

A.N: wrote this with my eyes literally closing, but i just couldn’t get it out of my head (sorry for any mistakes, def not proofread). hopefully it’s not complete shit. let me know if you want to see more of this! i could see this becoming either a short series or at least having one more part. Let me know if you want to be tagged if this has a part 2 :)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley made me lose my sleep and now i will make him suffer by writing angst #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi there, I had this fun idea - while the tinkerer class isn't playable in BG3, can we pretend for a while that it is? You know, Tav and Astarion both showing middle finger to all the gods... Tav can even help him with his condition. Some gadget blocking the sun, artficial blood, stuff like that. Honestly, the of them being this steampunk couple of a vampire rogue and Tav with enhanced crossbow or a gun has made my day. So - do you have aby headcanons about that?

OR perhaps Astarion and an Alchemist who likes to trick people too if that makes you happier? 😉

You are the first to request Artificer! People forget this class since it's not in the game, though, it's official. But some DM believe the Artificers bring unnecessary steampunk vibes.

There is also some naughty, to say the least, stuff, let me know if you want more of this.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Artificer!Tav

In the realm of magic, you are that bitch who brings a gun to a knife fight.

You construct machines and mechanisms out of nothing, enchanting them with unique techno-magic,

Armour to withstand necrotic damage? A healing helmet? A prosthetic hand? A full-time "living" creature, a Nimblewright?

There is nothing you can't do with your crafty hands.

Things are complicated in terms of love.

You are more interested in cogs and gears rather than dates and sex.

You've tried once and it was a huge "ugh".

Virginity is wasted for nothing.

So, you've also learned to make sex toys but it's this side job you pray no one will ever know about.

But customers are never unsatisfied though you sometimes get in trouble.

Mostly, the owners of local brothels try to accuse you of lewd misconduct.

You are finally tired of all this shit and decide to move places.

And the mindflayers take you.

You easily escape, making small machines out of debris to help you survive this madness.

You construct armor, and you enhance swords.

Magic sucks, behold the science!

Astarion makes moves to you, successfully seducing you.

And let's say, none of your inventions have ever satisfied you the same way this troubled vampire does.

You think you are in love. And you believe he is, too.

But later he confesses to you that it was a lie.

He used you. And he is sorry.

You are heartbroken, at the very least. You feel used.

You break up with Astarion, leaving him alone in his misery.

But it doesn't mean you want him to suffer - you kill his master, secure his freedom.

When it all ends, he starts burning alive - running to the shadows, like a rat chased by cats.

You feel bad, especially when you hear vicious mockery from your friends.

But you fail, losing his track underground.

That night, you cry.

The thing is, you've never stopped loving him. You were just too stubborn to admit it. Besides, gods, Astarion tried to be honest for the first time in his fucking life.

And you punished him for opening his heart.

What a vile creature you are?

Half a year later, you meet him at the party.

Astarion looks happy - he is an adventurer and a hero, living his life to the fullest.

And he tells you something that makes your heart stop.

"I wonder if we could be together after all, you know. But it seems like you have a new life, and I am happy for you."

You take his hands in yours and ask him to go somewhere private.

Then, you apologize. You say how much you've missed him and that you love him. And you want to be together.

Instead of an answer, he hugs you.

"There is nothing I want more," he whispers.

In the morning, you leave together to find a place that fits both of you.

Living with Astarion is worth of effort, but sometimes it's almost unbearable.

His nightmares, his breakdowns.

You wonder how tf he survived on his own all these lonely months.

You open your artificer shop in Neverwinter, and Astarion becomes a professional monster hunter.

Thanks to you, he doesn't need to hide in the shadows.

You make him a cape that creates a field protecting him from the sun. The eye lenses to make his eyes green.

You also learn alchemy - first, to make potions to ease his nightmares and anxieties.

Later, you make them to satiate his hunger.

Your crafty hands also come in use in healing his sexual trauma.

Astarion craves intimacy, he wants to enjoy sex. He just can't make himself undress and make love to you.

Problem solved - he can fuck you with a toy you've constructed while being fully dressed and in control.

You also use some of your inventions on Astarion, helping him to reconnect with his own sexuality.

One day, he pins you to the bed, making love to you without any extra tools.

It's been such a wild night that your neighbors "politely" asked to install soundproof shields.

You keep learning alchemy, making more and more potions, and one day you finally get your answers.

There is a way to make Astarion mortal without interfering with dark magic or soul-retrieving pacts.

Science, bitches.

Astarion is hesitant. He is eager to drink any potion you make, but being transformed back into a mortal is very extreme.

You ask Astarion to bring him test subjects.

He drags you a deranged vampire, one of the most miserable Cazador's victims - completely insane, almost an animal, that was hunting in the dark caves.

And it works.

The deranged vampire turns into a deranged mortal. But mortal.

Astarion takes the potion, but, maybe, it's because of how long he's been a vampire or because he's an elf, he doesn't turn immediately.

He falls to the floor comatose.

He stays like that for a month, a terrible and long month when you think you've lost him.

One evening, you hear a strange sound.

Breathing.

He breathes in his unconsciousness.

You put your hand on Astarion's chest.

Heartbeat.

You did it. You cured him.

He wakes up with you on his chest, dizzy and exhausted with some memory gaps.

Piercing you with his natural green eyes.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe 

#spacebarbarian headcanon #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #tav x astarion #astarion x f!tav #artificer tav #artificer dnd #dnd artificer #tav

[hornystiel]

chipped coin

1,6k, mature (i guess), early seasons destiel

so jackles and ida @chapeldean reminded me about the whole 'dean in cas' coat' thing and i wrote this in one go.

Dean’s rummaging in the pockets of the trench coat he’s currently borrowing from Cas in chance to find something like, you know, change, like what normal people are carrying with them in their pockets. 

Cas appears to be some kind of bird who likes shiny things, because his pockets have everything but the money Dean needs to buy himself a can of soda at 3 am from the vending machine outside of their motel room. Their room. 

Jesus, when did it become two rooms and not for Dean and Sam even, but for Dean and Cas, and Sam. Well, it’s not always like that, sometimes they still stay in one room because everything's packed and they don’t have any spare money or a working credit card with them. Except why the fuck Cas even needs to stay with them at night? And sleep in Dean’s bed. He’s a fucking angel, he doesn’t even need sleep. 

Not that Dean minds. Not really. 

Shiny rocks, a piece of glass (not sharp, thankfully), a cap from a beer Dean likes and tried to give to Cas a few times, some kind of a keychain in the shape of a cat? It’s cute though. Still no money.

Dean’s getting cold because he only slipped into Cas’ coat and currently wears only that, boots, and his batman boxers he managed to win from under Cas who was blissfully zoned out after fucking him into the creaky bed they share today. But once Dean took the coat and put it on, the look on Cas’ face became nothing but predatory. Dean’s sure if he lingered for a bit before leaving - they’d be having round two right now. 

Dean’s ass is still sensitive and he still feels, well, Cas’ come leaking out of him a bit. That should really be very gross, Dean’s sure he should feel gross. 

He doesn’t and that’s kind of concerning. 

He touches the bite mark on his neck and feels his cheeks heating up, even in the chilly parking lot. 

Castiel was intense the minute he appeared in Dean’s life, but Dean didn’t really think he would be so into marking him in every way possible. Although, the handprint on his shoulder should have given him some ideas. Dean coughs a little, trying to will his brain to stop translating the direct feed of Cas sucking hickeys on his hips half an hour before.

Right. He’s still thirsty, that was the reason he left the room in the first place. Not to contemplate. 

They are just fucking. Just fucking, just sharing a room, just talking for hours about everything and nothing, just grabbing a bite in shitty diners when Cas pops up out of nowhere right when Dean thinks it would be nice to make him try this new weird-looking pie and see that adorable frown make an appearance again, the apocalypse fuckery hanging somewhere in the background for once. 

Dean digs faster, in an attempt to overrun his own thoughts. How deep are those pockets? Finally something circle-shaped is in his hands and he brings it to the neon light to the left of him to see what it is. 

It’s the coin, a piece of it chipped a little, a tiny hole piercing it close to the ridge. 

Dean remembers this coin. 

He was boredly playing with all the change he had on him during their pitstop in one of the bars on their way to another state, Cas sitting on the opposite end of a small booth, looking ragged. Rebel angels have tough days. 

Dean noticed this coin and said Hey, look. This one is like you. Castiel squinted at the coin and mumbled Useless and broken? Dean huffed and went Not like the others and still kicking. 

He placed it in Cas’ hand and said that this one is for good luck. Castiel frowned but took it. 

Dean thought he threw it away or lost it a long time ago. But it’s still here. In Dean’s palm again. An angel who wields the destinies of the whole civilisations is carrying a chipped coin for good luck given to him by a hick human. 

Suddenly he isn’t really thirsty anymore. 

He puts everything back into the pockets and quickly goes back to their room. 

Cas is still sprawled on the bed (more and more human things in his arsenal, one day he’ll use this arsenal of adorable/annoying lethal quirks to kill Dean dead), but once Dean closes the door, he sits up and looks at Dean. 

Forget the pain in his ass, Dean wants to ride this ruffled creature into the sunset of a better future. 

“Dean, I advise you to take the coat off, because I’m not sure I can control myself when you are wearing it and I know you must be tired.”

“Aw, for a possessive bastard you’re such a gentleman.” Dean chuckles and without taking the trench coat off climbs on top of Cas’ naked thighs. “What, afraid you’ll fuck the Righteous Man too good he goes out of commission?” 

Castiel growls and tugs Dean closer, crushing their mouths together, hands roaming all over his body as if they were separated for a decade instead of thirty minutes tops. 

“It’s just…the more traces of me you have on yourself, the more I…” Cas hides his face in Dean’s shoulder, his movements slowing but not losing intensity, a hand crawling to the handprint, hidden under the coat. 

“Tell me.” Dean’s lost all of his brain cells on the way here, he wants to hear how much he breaks Cas’ restraint, he wants to know the moment Cas started thinking of this coat as a part of him, he wants to know whether it’s the first time Cas even feels this way and if so he doesn’t want to share this knowledge with anybody else. Man, they are both possessive as fuck. 

“I want to keep you to myself,” Cas whispers, unsure, and Dean moans, slowly grinding into him, starting to pull the coat off his shoulders, but Cas stops his hands. Holy fucking shit.  

“You were mine to rebuild, mine to bring back to life, mine to protect,” Cas lifts his gaze to Dean and strokes his jaw. “Now you’re mine to love.” 

If Dean ever wondered what the perfect example of “fuck around and find out” looks like in real life - well. He’s experiencing it now. 

“Shut up,” he tells Cas because he isn’t ready to start fucking crying during the most mindblowing kinky sex he isn’t even fully having right now. 

Cas opens his mouth to argue and probably tell him more insane shit that will rewire Dean’s mindframe forever and ever, so he shuts him up himself with kisses. After they’re finally done making out, Cas, the stubborn bastard, opens his mouth again.

“Was what I said wrong? You asked me to tell you.” 

“No, it’s just…” How can he even begin to explain everything that’s happening in his brain right now? That Cas just voiced Dean’s own feelings he’s too afraid to even start rationalizing in his own mind? Let alone talking about them. The thought that Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about doesn’t even cross his mind. He knows they both feel the same and both are greatly inexperienced in just being in love. Cas being an angel, Dean being a hunter and both of them being fuckups. 

“You are thinking too much. I don’t require your answer, Dean, that’s not why I said it.” Cas touches his neck, shoulders, stomach, thighs. Feather-light strokes of his long fingers relax Dean gradually. “Just let me take care of you sometimes.”

 And Dean lets. 

The coat stays on, like a wall, shielding what they have from the rest of the world. Dean imagines that it’s Cas’ wings that envelop him and keep him safe. 

They take it slow this time, Dean rocking on top of Cas like he has all the time in the world, Cas’ hands are firm but still gentle, supporting him when he gets tired. He’s so beautiful underneath him, all black unruly hair, dark stubble and eyes only for Dean. 

Dean kisses him and kisses and kisses until his lips get numb and scratchy from all the licking and biting. 

Cas talks to him, quiet and intimate, and, dammit, Dean ends up crying after all. But he feels so, so much lighter, he feels like there’s light streaming from all the scars on his body. 

When they are cleaned up, Dean digs in the pockets of Cas’ coat again, Cas curiously watching from the bed, clad in boxers and Dean's t-shirt. Dean kinda gets why Cas jumped him when he walked in in his trench coat earlier. The t-shirt…is doing things to him too. 

He finds the coin again, takes it, threads a thick rope through the tiny hole in it and tugs the ends. Then goes to Cas and motions for him to bow his head. 

Cas looks puzzled for a second and then a tiny warm smile spreads on his face when he thumbs the improvised amulet on his neck. 

“Just uh. For it not to get lost in your giant ass pockets.” Dean’s scratching his head and fidgeting like a dumbass. 

“Thank you Dean,” Cas catches Dean’s restless hands in his and just holds them, “Thank you for taking care of it.” 

Thank you for taking care of me.

One day Dean will say it back outloud. 

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #deancas #deancas fic #deancas ficlet #thisisapaige #spxcekya #becauseofthebowties #usermoogs #anztag #spncreatorsdaily #hashtag writing

[coolnameloading]

Lute x Fem! Reader Part 2

Part 2 of Lute x Sinner Reader story yaaaay

Over the last few months, the hotel has been in what you can only describe as organized chaos. The hotel gained a new resident in Sir Pentious who was a spy for the Vee’s and then wasn’t or something. Charlie reassured you constantly that Pentious was not working for the Vee’s anymore and you had nothing to worry about.

But those sick fucks have been chasing you for longer than any of the other overlords so you’d rather be more safe than sorry. 

After that particular event, you started to feel less safe in the hotel. 

You heard Vox, he tried to infiltrate the only place where you’ve felt safe since you got to the literal hell hole and he tried to send in a fucking spy who Charlie just let walk in instantly after he had attacked the hotel twice.

Who knows what would have happened to you….all of you if Angel Dust hadn’t seen him planting those stupid cameras? 

You love Charlie, she’s nice and she gave you a place to stay. Being mad at her is like being mad at a puppy but all you could keep thinking about for the rest of the month was wondering if Vox saw you.

If the Vee’s know where you are.

If they’ll come looking for you.

What they might do to you if they do catch you.

You had a close call with Velvette one time and one time was enough for the rest of your afterlife. Bitch tried to color-match your fucking fur! You’re pretty sure the only reason you got away was because she was drunk off her British ass.

Vaggie could tell right away that there was something wrong with you and tried to reassure you.

“He didn’t see you Chesh”

She whispered approaching you slowly. 

“You don’t know that boss! What if he did? He could be on his way right now with the other two and he already beat the radio demon once! I need to lea-”

Vaggie cut off your rant by placing her hand on your shoulder gently and pushing you down to sit on the couch.

“Charlie and I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We promised when you started staying here that we’d keep you safe and we will. You don’t need to run.”

“Thanks, boss… I’m sorry for freaking out. It just really shook me up, I guess.”

You mumbled out, blushing at how pathetic you sound. 

You may not remember much about your life but you’re pretty sure you died sometime in your 20’s. Yet here you are whimpering pathetically and having to get comforted over a fucking video camera. 

After that incident you became more jumpy, every sound put you on edge, and it was worse whenever you were around any form of technology that didn’t look like it was from before the 1980s.

The others tried their best to calm you down in their own ways. Angel Dust started leaving his phone in his room because you’d flinch every time he got a text or phone call from Valentino. 

“Don’t make a big deal outa it, he was annoying me too.”

Husk would keep your favorite booze on standby at all times, when you’d thank him he’d simply grin at you and say, 

“Us feline demons got to stick together.”

Alastor was happy to throw out any and every piece of technology that would make you tense up even slightly, which included most of Pentious’ weapons and very nearly his airship. 

He obviously wasn’t doing it for you but it still felt nice.

“Don’t worry my friend! I’ll happily get rid of these infernal contraptions! I’ve always believed they lacked class anyway.”

Pentious recognized his part in your new-found anxiety and tried to gain your trust by handing his machines to Alastor with many, many, many tears.

“I am more than happy to…give up my arsenal as an apology for invading your persssssonal boundariessss.” He’d hissed out while trying to hold his tears back.

You couldn’t really be mad at him after that.

Nifty even volunteered to go out and ‘hunt phones’ for you.

You said no but that didn’t stop her from bringing you the….remains of some people’s phones.

 “Sometimes I kill mother phones in front of their children as a warning to the other phones!”

“Niffty phones don’t have mothers.”

“Hehe, not anymore…”

Charlie was actually very happy to see how the others stepped in to help you and she was very proud of them even if their methods were…unorthodox.

But that lead her into a spiral. She was desperately trying to figure out why the hotel wasn’t working even though everybody showed considerable improvement.

This leads to her talking with her dad, which somehow leads to you being here in heaven.

“Um, boss why exactly am I here?”

You ask Vaggie nervously, glancing around at the pastel clouds around you. God you haven’t seen pastels in years.

Vaggie looks over at you and sighs, “Well Charlie figured you wouldn’t want to go out with the others and you wouldn’t like to stay in the hotel alone so this was the best option.”

You nod, understanding her point but on the other hand.

“And the…exorcists?”

Vaggie’s shoulders tense for a moment before she looks away from you and mumbles, “I have a feeling they won’t do anything even if we do run into them.”

You want to ask more questions but decide against it, today was stressful enough as it is without you asking stupid questions. 

“Whatever you say, boss.”

You whisper following behind Vaggie and Charlie as they enter the gates of heaven after another fucking song. 

Is it just you? Are you the weird one? Should you be singing more often?

The three of you follow behind the two seraphim, Emily and Sera, while they give you a tour of heaven. Charlie looks completely enamored by the place but Vaggie looks annoyed, as if the pastel clouds had offended her personally.

And you…well honestly you feel a little underwhelmed.

Heaven looks like a glorified mall so far, a mall with strippers because there are way more people walking around shirtless than you thought there would be. 

So you keep trailing behind Vaggie, Charlie, and the angels when you see someone who looks familiar.

She’s a cat demon like you, same color pallet and everything, except she seems much shorter and has a pair of pastel-blue angel wings coming out of her back.

You end up drifting away from the group and start following the small cat angel through the crowds. 

Eventually, you get close enough to reach out and tap her but when you’re about to get her attention you feel a firm hand on your shoulder and you get pulled away roughly and pinned to one of the walls.

You’re completely disoriented for a moment and then you hear a familiar annoying voice.

“Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in.”

You look up to see Adam and Lute, Adam has a wide smirk on his face and Lute looks….wow.

She’s not wearing her helmet so this time you get to admire her completely.

You’d probably be happier about her pinning you to a wall if she wasn’t also holding a giant spear to your neck.

Then again…-

Yeah, it’s still pretty hot.

#fanfic #lute x reader #hazbin chaggie #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin adam #hazbin husk #hazbin alastor #hazbin lute #hazbin niffty #hazbin sir pentious #x reader #hazbin vaggie

[herbgerblin]

ipre theater thots

loosely based off of this poll. sorry, this got away from me. i was a theater kid for years (i still am, i literally made a bunch of friends larp as wizards two weeks ago)

Davenport: Producer and Stage Manager. Personally more experienced in opera than musicals, but answers the call when the need for a manager arises. Keeps everyone focused and on schedule. Has final word on what choices the art department gets to make. Sometimes does solo performances on his own time.

Merle: Choreographer and Director. Leads the ensemble into meditation every rehearsal before warming up. Talks with each member of the cast one-on-one. Sometimes leaves the script open to interpretation. His artistic vision sounds bonkers in concept, but illuminating in execution. Why are there so many plants? Don't worry about it.

Magnus: Lead Actor and Set Builder. He brings the energy every single night. He doesn't need to be micc'ed up because his natural voice projects well enough. It takes a bit of time for him to memorize the script, but he devotes his heart and soul to it. He claps loudly for the ensemble when he's in the wings. He cries at the emotional numbers. Built all the sets by hand.

Lucretia: Co-stage Manager and Supporting Actor (not for lack of chops, only because she spreads herself very thin.) Knows the script like a second language. Mainly reserves her Director Voice for backstage when things get chaotic. Enjoys performing the musical numbers because no one knows she can belt, until she does. Standing ovation girlie, but bashful about it.

Lup: Co-lead Lead Actor and Costumer. Only willing to do the role if Davenport lets her include cold sparks and fog machines in the set budget (he finds a way.) No one knows when she took measurements for the costumes, but they're ready by dress rehearsal and they fit perfectly. Helps the other actors figure out their groove. Great at engaging the audience.

Angus (special edition): Child lead and stagehand. The sweetest little singing voice you ever did hear. Everyone is going to rue the day his voice starts cracking. A heartbreaker of a performer and a speedy backstage assistant.

Taako: A MYSTERY. He's wearing a fancy scarf and roaming all over the place. He's talking about the Art of the Theatre. He's listed on the billing of lead actors and NO ONE knows what his role is. He remembers all the little things that everyone forgets: clothes pins, a hot glue gun, and electrolytes. He's got a walkie-talkie. Only the managers and tech are supposed to have walkie-talkies. Hello, this is Taako speaking, over.

Barry: Usually Tech. He's got a beautifully choreographed queue of lighting designs and stage effects. He's got an immaculately labeled pad controller and a ready-to-go Excel spreadsheet. But on opening night, Lucretia informs him he's in the orchestra pit.

Barry: ...But I'm lighting tonight.

Lucretia (via walkie-talkie): And our percussionist twisted his ankle tripping over a stage light. You're in the orchestra now, compadre.

Barry: (with increasing emphasis, decreasing conviction) But. I'm. Light. Tech.

Taako: E N T E R T H E P I T B A R O L D

Davenport: Taako, get off this line.

During intermission, Magnus asks him to help lift the ensemble dancers onto the set scaffolding, and hold it steady. Barry agrees, thinking he's in the clear after that. But the second the music number ends, Merle tells him that one of the support roles had to leave, so now he's the understudy.

Barry (longsuffering): I am just. the light guy.

Merle (gesturing to Taako in the balcony, having a ballgame playing with the lightboard): well, in two minutes you're the showstopper guy, so you need to go out there and stop the show

Lup (emerging from nowhere, slapping a red, hooded robe on Barold's shoulders): Knock 'em dead!

Barry: D:

#:0 knock em dead! #okay i'm done it's back to doing laundry #taz balance #taz au #herbgerb blerb #the adventure zone #long post

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 13

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: Have a wonderful day!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

You hear Jonathan stirring before you leave your room. You carry your clothes into the bathroom and get ready quickly. You are almost excited to get back to work, to get back to routine, if only to have a distraction from the chaos.

As you enter the kitchen, you smell coffee. Jonathan is dressed already, his suit clean and pressed. You hope he didn’t have too much trouble with your cheap iron and tiny board. 

“Morning,” he greets with a smile.

“Morning,” you return as you go to the machine. He’s there before you, sliding over an empty mug for you. You fill it and smile sheepishly at the countertop, “thanks.”

“Not at all,” he lingers close to you, “I should apologise. For waking you up so early. My mother never has good timing.”

“It’s fine. Really. That’s… nice that she called,” you rub your neck and back away with your mug in hand, “you must miss her.”

“Certainly,” he takes his own cup and sips between words, “but I dare think my parents are better off without me. They do enjoy an empty nest.”

“Ah,” you nod, cradling the cup as you bask in the warmth. 

“And your parents? Do they live far from here?”

“A few towns over,” you answer, “they’re swept up in my sister’s wedding though. I don’t hear from them.”

“Pity for them,” he says, “they are missing out on a wonderful daughter.”

You chuckle dryly, “sometimes…”

“What? Sometimes… what?” He prompts.

“Nothing, just… you’re too nice. That’s all.”

“If that is my greatest flaw, then I think I’m doing just fine,” he kids.

“Be careful or you might end up like me. If you’re nice to the wrong person, they might just kick in your door,” you scoff and take a reviving sip of coffee.

He doesn’t laugh. You look up at him and swallow tightly, “I was joking.”

“I know. I just don’t think it’s very funny what he’s done,” Jonathan says, “forgive my lack of humour, but it worries me. To think if I hadn’t come in to return your lip balm, what he could’ve done.”

A cold wash flows over you and your face falls. You are suddenly very sober with fear. You nod and back away.

“I know, but he’ll forget about me. He’s that sort, you know? Always on to the next girl.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” Jonathan utters doubtfully.

“Well, lots to catch up on today,” you change the subject as you sit at the small round table by the wall, “I should enjoy these few spreadsheet-free moments.”

“Uh huh,” he nears and sits across from you, concern furrowing in his forehead, “it will be quite the day,” he checks his watch before planting his elbow and cradling his chin, “I’ve a meeting in Carline. I’ll have to drop you at the office and go.”

“Oh, that’s… I could catch the bus–”

“Nonsense, it is on my way out of town,” he insists as he sits back and lets his arm fall over, “I should be back before the end of the day but…” he turns his head, peeking from the corner of his eyes towards the door behind him, “if I am not…”

“I’ll be okay,” you say, not fully convinced.

“I could always leave you my spare key–”

“Really, that’s too much. How about… I’ll text you and let you know when I get in?”

He sighs and swirls his fingers on the tabletop, “he is a very aggressive man and you are…”

“I’m an adult,” you say, “I’ll have to go off on my own sooner than later.”

“Yes, yes, suppose you are right, but I can’t help it. It is only you don’t deserve all this stress,” he brings his hand to the handle of his mug, “perhaps, however, I did set him straight and he knows better.” He lifts his cup, “Still, I will be certain to keep my phone close.”

“Alright,” you agree, pushing away your trepidation. You’ll just have to be sure to be quick and quiet when you get in.

🌼

Jonathan lets you off outside the building and you look up at the corporate brick front with a sense of relief. Not just to be away from your apartment, but to have some time away from your overly attentive boss. He's nice enough but you're starting to feel a bit crowded. A day apart would do you well and hopefully dispel any errant suspicions of unprofessionalism.

Your desk awaits you in its simple tedium. You brew a pot at the shared machine in the break room and wait for the slow trickle to spew out enough for a cup. You take your coffee to your computer and watch it boot, the buffering circle spinning as the old hardware chuffs.

Shari arrives and claims a cup of her own. She gives a hum as she settles in at her desk and yawns. She looks at her mug and doffs it in your direction.

"I can always tell when you've made the coffee," she chimes.

"Right, you only like it when you don't have to do it yourself," you scoff as you wiggle your mouse and open up your browser.

"Not gonna deny that," she chuckles, "feelin' better?"

You look at her, hesitating. Oh yeah, you suppose everyone thought you were off sick. You suppose you were as good as.

"Yeah, vaguely," you shrug, "migraine."

"Ah," she takes a loud swig, "and where's that handsome boss of ours today?"

You don't look at her, focusing on your screen, "hm, I think he has a meeting. Says so in the calendar."

"Sure, the calendar says so," she snorts, "he also had a personal day..."

"Really?" You let your pinky edge over your lower lip and bite down on it.

"Hey," she lowers her voice to a whisper and wheels around the side of her cubicle, "I won't tell anyone. I just wanna hear how it was. Is he as good as I imagine?"

"Shari," you gasp, "really, it's not like that--"

"Anyone with eyes can see he's into you," she smirks, "a man like that knows how to keep his cool but around you..."

You growl her name again and give a sharp look, "he's my boss."

"What no one knows, can't hurt you. You know I can keep a secret. The hubby still doesn't know my book club is a bowling club," she smirks.

"Right," you shake your head and turn your attention back to your computer, "well, there's nothing to keep secret so it should be easy."

🌼

Lunch rolls around as you find yourself bogged down in all the work you have to catch up. As is stands, you were already working from behind. You skip the tuna sandwich you stuffed in your bag and opt instead for another cup of coffee. You sit with your chin in hand, going crossed eye at the excel sheets.

The monotony of the office lulls you, making it hard to keep your eyes open. You long for your apartment and a nice hot bath. That yearning doesn't last as the dread returns. Right, you don't even know if you'll come home to a front door.

Your phone buzzes and you check the notifications, swiveling slightly to read the screen. Jonathan checking in unexpectedly, confirming his arrival in Carline and his intention to be back in town around three. You have another message that gives you pause. The name over it matches the several missed calls you didn't notice in your mindless trance of expense reports and monthly budgets.

Colin. He only ever texted before to see if you were in so he could bum on your couch or mooch a meal from you. That's clear now. You can't believe you were ever giddy to see his name on your phone.

You hit the voicemail icon and put the phone to your ear. You listen to the automated voice that declares you have five new messages. The speaker scuffs before the first starts. It's him.

"Hey, buttercup. I guess you went out with that idiot wanker. I can't seem to find you..." you hear something bang, "nope, not hiding in the closet..." You hit seven to delete and the next message starts. "You better answer before I get real fucking pissed. I just wanna talk, buttercup. And I know you want me. So let's meet halfway--" Delete. "I'm about to break something, sweetheart--" Seven, delete. "PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE!" 

You delete all the messages as a new text pops up. Your thumb hits it without a thought and you see the endless scroll of caps lock floating in bubble up the chat. Every one is just an echo of what was in your voicemail. And pictures. Of your apartment, of your shelf overturned and the contents tossed over the floor. Your pillows shredded as feathers litter the carpet.

You black out your phone and push it deep into your bag. Not right now. You'll have to deal with it later. Maybe you'll wait around for Jonathan after all. Or maybe... maybe you can sort this out without troubling him any further.

You keep a hold of your phone and pull it back out. You ignore the urgent buzzing and search your contacts. You get up and leave your desk, going into the staircase to hide behind the heavy metal door. You hit Ally's name and let out a shaky breath. You wait for her to answer as you chew your thumb.

"Hey!" She chirps through the speaker, "what's up?"

"Hi, Ally, uh...." you don't know what you were thinking. What was you plan here? "Are you, er, with Colin?"

"Nah, I'm working unlike his lazy ass," she laughs, "why, what's up?"

"Well, um, I don't know how to say this... Ally, I'm going to send you some stuff, one second..."

You pull the phone away from your cheek and minimize the call. You bring up the chat and scroll, swiping your hand to screencap the litany of messages, barely able to catch them all as more spew in. You hold your breath as you go into Ally's chat and attach the images. You close your eyes and tap the send arrow.

You put the cell back to your ear and clear your throat, "Ally, please... just read what I sent you."

"Huh, alright," she giggles, "you're always so ser--" her voice cuts off as you sense the audio change as she puts you on speaker. "What the fuck?"

Silence as you sway, pacing on the leveled plain above the flight of stairs, waiting.

"Why-- did you fuck my boyfriend?"

"What? No. Ally. He-- He's the one who broke into my apartment. He's-- he's terrorizing me--"

"And why would he do that unless you were sneaking behind me back? I'm not stupid, I've seen you drooling over him."

"Al, no, I wouldn't--"

"Sure you would. I just can't believe he would," she snarls, "you're so pathetic. You fuck my boyfriend and now you think you can break us up?"

"No!"

"Go fuck yourself, you sad old spinster," she barks and the line dies.

You stare at the phone, stunned. What did you just do?

🌼

You find it hard to shake the uneasiness cast by Colin's message and Ally's reaction. You suspect you've lost two friends in less than a week. All because you were stupid enough to like someone. Because you, an adult, had a dumb crush. Ugh.

You keep your nerves at ease through your work. The numbers are easier than emotions. Around two, your eyes flit back and forth between your spreadsheet and the time in the corner. You wonder when Jonathan will be back or even what you'll tell him. Should you tell him any of it?

You hear the elevator doors swish open and hit save on the file. You pivot, expecting your boss to be striding in early, instead finding a very much unexpected and unwelcome face.

You gape at Colin as he scowls around the office at the dronish workers, many of whom are too caffeine addled or underslept to notice him. You get up, hoping to get him out before he can start anything. You know by the tension in his neck that he's up to no good.

"I wanna talk to the fucking boss," he demands, jolting several people from their waking comas as other pop their heads over their cubicle walls. Shari lets out a strange noise and mops up coffee from her chin as it dribbles down.

"Who's this?" She hisses as you take a step forward.

"Boss isn't here," Ed snorts from his desk, "and we're not hiring."

"I'm not here--" Colin starts, "fuck your fucking jobs." He sneers, "who the fuck is in charge here?"

"Colin, please," you put your hands up pleadingly, "please, just go. We can talk after work--"

"No, no, you had your chance so I'll say what I came here to say and I want everyone in this office to hear it," he snaps, "so tell me where that British douchebag is."

"He's not here," you croak, "Colin--"

"Fine, who needs him," he stomps his foot, "hey, everyone, guess who's fucking her boss?"

"I-- I'm not," you exclaim, voice squeaking, "I swear-- he's crazy. He's just my neighbour, he doesn't--"

"Why else would he be hanging out at her apartment? He was there all night. I have proof," Colin waves his phone around, "so someone tell me who I send it to because I think HR will be real interested in this--"

"Colin, get out! Go away! Why are you doing this?"

"Ah, come on, you," he points to Monica and shoves his phone towards, her, "they looks real cozy, don't they?"

"Colin," you beg as you follow him, "please--"

The elevator doors part again but you barely notice as you try to snatch Colin's cell away. He holds it above his head and nudges you away. He snickers in your face.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jonathan's timbre rips through the babble of your coworkers and Colin's laughter, "Shari, call security."

"Ah, there he is. The star of the show. I was just coming to file a complaint," Colin face Jonathan, "you've been shitting where you eat, big guy and I have it all right here--"

Jonathan stands stoically across from Colin. It's like a Great Dane staring down and uppity chihuahua. He tilts his head slightly and peers past the intruder.

"Shari, put the phone down," Jonathan waves her hand down, "I shall deal with this myself."

Jonathan steps forward, coming chest to chest, or just above Colin's chest, as he glares down his adversary.

"I suggest you leave or I may just have to escort you out. I'm certain you don't wish to repeat last night," he warns.

"Nah, I'll stay--"

Colin barely keeps a grip on his phone as he grunts. Jonathan grabs him by the front of his hoodie and drags him away from the bullpen. Colin struggles with him, stomping around, trying to crush the other man's sleek leather shoes. 

Jonathan spins as Colin's fist glances past the instinctive turn of his head. Your boss keeps a hold of your neighbour with one hand and presses the elevator button. The belts grind, and the doors open. He dodges another fist as he throws Colin into the box.

"Good day, sir," He taps the down button as Colin lands on his ass. The doors open and leaves the office in deafening silence.  Jonathan turns to face his audience and raises his chin, "back to work."

He strides past you and between the cubicles. He swings his office door shut behind him, punctuating the tension. You gulp and go back to your desk, sitting numbly as your eyes haze with tears.

"I knew it," Shari trills.

#colin shea #jonathan pine #dark colin shea #dark!colin shea #colin shea x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #crushed #au #what's your number #the night manager

[ffc1cb]

new art blog

the short version:

1. i made a new art blog: @cbge;

2. @ffc1cb will stay up as an archive.

the long version:

hi everyone. this announcement is somewhat late, since the blog in question has been up for a few months now, and i’ve already started posting art on it. the reason it took me so long to “reveal” it is because i’ve been trying to figure out whether a new blog is something i actually want, or if it's just me throwing darts at a board, trying to make myself feel better somehow.

i don’t know when precisely it all started, but ever since sometime last year i’ve been going through a hard time, both emotionally and creatively. i’m not sure whether being depressed is what made art harder, or art becoming harder is what made me depressed (a bit of both, i think), but lately, drawing has been a struggle. 

i’ve found myself having less and less energy for art, and this lack of energy resulted in poorer quality of drawings, which resulted in me feeling like i’m getting worse at it, despite my efforts. i knew i could make good art, art that i’m proud of - i’ve done so countless times before, - but somehow it felt like i just couldn’t anymore, like my hands forgot how to. nothing looked right. 

i’ve been trying to experiment. i’ve learned some new things, tried this and that - it was enlightening, to say the least, and even though i kind of liked how it looked, it made me feel a sense of displacement. i was at odds with myself, my art, and how i felt about it, when previously i was always in sync. i was making art, yes, and it looked nice, but it felt like it wasn’t mine.

i suppose part of it was also the growing lack of engagement, and i don’t mean likes and reblogs - i never particularly cared about those. they are all just numbers to me; dry and impersonal. what i’m talking about is actual, human interactions: personal thoughts in tags, asks, replies, etc. a conversation. 

i don’t mean to sound “old” or anything, but i remember when talking to artists online was more commonplace. my wife tells me it’s because the internet culture has changed over the years, that people have become more reclusive, less willing to be open with their thoughts, and she's probably right, but in my slump i find it hard to believe. somehow it feels like it’s my fault for being less “engaging”, for seeming unapproachable or perhaps intimidating. maybe it’s “just a skill issue”, maybe it’s because i have stopped churning out fanart for popular fandoms, maybe it’s because i refuse to torture myself emotionally by having an art account on twitter (i can’t fucking stand the place anymore; i still post nsfw art there, but only because it’s literally one of the only places on the internet that allows you to do so. i miss when you could post female presenting tits on tumblr).

i have always, ever since i started posting art on the internet back in 2012, done it for human connection. i wanted to talk to people, and have people talk to me. i wanted to inspire people with my art, and i wanted to bring them comfort. i wanted to elicit an emotional response, and have people tell me about it. it was one of the main reasons i drew in the first place; having lost that, i’ve been struggling to stay passionate about making art.

i miss being a small artist on the internet during the 2010s. i remember when i could make a post going, “hey everyone, how are you all doing today?” and it would not seem weird to people in the slightest. it is just me? does anyone else feel that way? am i too deep in my own head? the internet feels so unwelcoming nowadays, especially to artists. we are all just content machines; people scroll by our stuff, or maybe look at it for half a second and leave a like before scrolling away. i know it’s unfair to demand people’s attention, especially now when our lives are already so overwhelmed by everything - no one has the energy to pay closer attention; i myself am not immune to mindless scrolling. but it feels bad. i wish we were all sincere and enthusiastic again.

anyway (sorry for rambling. i hope i haven’t bored you to death), you might want to say, okay, but how is making a new art blog on a “dying” social platform going to help with any of that? the truth is, i don’t know. i just felt like i needed a change. 

i’ve been running this blog since 2016 (that’s almost 8 full years!). i feel incredibly attached to it, but at the same time, i feel it weighing me down. 

there are people who followed me years ago for one specific thing, still expecting me to post about said thing (i still find it mindboggling that some people follow artists for a specific fandom only, but that is a whole other matter for a whole other post that i will never write). a third, if not half, of my following are probably dead blogs. and with my current struggle with trying to regain the joy i once felt for making art, looking back at all the art i’ve done over the years makes me feel tired. i still love it all; it’s all very dear to me. i’m proud of it; looking at it makes me mourn my younger and more passionate self.

so i’ve decided to make a new blog, where i will let myself post whatever i want, in whatever stage of donness i feel like. maybe it will help me, somehow. maybe it won’t. but if you care about my art, if you want to keep following me on my artistic journey, i welcome you to join me there. similarly, feel free not to - no hard feelings.

thank you everyone for your support over the years; it matters a lot to me. i’m not planning to delete or private this blog; it will stay up, and i will still be reachable on here. i will still answer asks, if there will be any. i’m just not planning to post any art here anymore. this is it for my dear old friend ffc1cb.

i can be found in other places:

@cbge, as mentioned earlier,

@k0nstanta, an art blog dedicated solely to my wife and i’s ocs,

@inquisimail, a dragon age ask blog that has become my dragon age sideblog in general,

and multiple other blogs, none of which are art related, but feel free to ask, if you’re curious.

thank you very much for reading all of this. i hope you have a wonderful day.

#salt talks

[mollysunder]

Another Clue in Viktor's Tarot Card?

I think I figured something out. In an older post I talked about how Arcane used tarot symbology to possibly hint at future developments for season 2. It was specifically how Viktor and Jinx fit into the role of the Magician and Death tarots respectively and how it works for Sevika. There was one thing that was bugging the hell out of me when i finished it. What was the symbol within the Machine Herald's grasp?

At first I thought it was the mathematical symbol for fish (∝), without the curves, like how Ekko' infinity symbol are sharp triangles instead of round loops. I thought it could mean Viktor needed to recognize the balance and proprtions necessary to unlock the Arcane and be an indirect reference to how similar but different Ekko and Viktor are. But I think the answer might be simpler.

It's an 'X', sideways. Obviously, the 'X' could refer to the x-factor the Magician needs to unlock the Hexcore's power. And that's the fun trick of it because there's only been one person I know in League that's been explicitly associated with this kind of 'X', it's Jinx.

When Jinx's character debuted in League of Legends, instead of releasing a bio first, they had her 'vandalize' Vi's page with graffiti (really fun marketing move). The end of the page had a signature tag that said "X WUZ HERE" because they didn't want to reveal her name so they used this special "X" instead. Later, the tag was just replaced with "JINX WAS HERE.". I thought it was a one-time thing, but no, Jinx's special 'X' still remains in the game to refer to her presence. For example, one of Caitlyn's gag interactions has her shooting her rifle that's been tampered with by Jinx. And when it happens Caitlyn goes, "Ready, aim... (gasps) Urgh! Why am I not surprised?". Who else could it be?

So this symbol is still associated with Jinx, specifically as a substitution for her name, and it's in the Machine Herald's grasp. I don't think this is meant to hint at any future control Viktor would have over Jinx, nor would he want to. It could mean that he will need a partner in Jinx to help him complete the Hexcore once he and Jayce have their falling out and he's cast out from Piltover (some real Silco and Singed vibes honestly). But maybe it's another hint at how similar their actions will be perceived by us, the audience, like they fly under the same banner of void-touched outcasts playing offense and defense against Piltover. And more so that they will have a deeply impact full relationship with one another. Look at Ekko and Vi, they both bare her tag and you can't pretend she hasn't left her mark on them and their motivations. It's just odd that for Viktor, her tag is in a different position. Maybe it's a past, present, future thing.

I wouldn't bring this up if the creators of Arcane hadn't said that there were plenty of hints at season 2 that the audience hasn't picked up yet, so maybe this is another one. Also, I have noticed that Jinx sometimes has Ekko's infinity symbol on her marketing but it's still solidly an Ekko thing. Even when she has it on her Flame Chomper grenades it's used explicitly to frame Ekko and the Firelights for her damage because it's so well associated with him.

Update: I don't know why I'm just remembering this, but Jinx is also just wearing a big X on her shirt. In fact she's covered in X's, her shirt, her necklacklace choker thing, her shoelaces, her belt, her bandage, the back of her shoe they all have X's in her design.

Update 2: I found more X's! They're all over her background in the 'Enemy' music video. The art really isn't being subtle when you notice.

Update 3: Pretty sure this is the last one... maybe. After rewatching I noticed Vi's prison uniform actually has the symbol as a part of her ID number. Altogether her ID would be X516. Though whenever Vi was referred to as prisoner 516. Alone it actually says her name in Roman numerals, 5=V, 1=I, and 6=VI (a but redundant). If we treat it the 'X' as Jinx's name it makes Jinx and Vi before Vi even knows Powder has grown into Jinx, already intertwining their identities.

Update 4: I really thought I was done, but I wasn't. I found that both of Ekko's loc rings (which look similar to the bullet shells Jinx uses in her braids) have partial infinities that look similar to her symbol. Ekko specifically is represented with a complete hourglass, and this is literally the one exception. The fact that this symbol is visible when he talks about Zaun and Silco makes me feel ridiculous. If this is a subtle hint at the way Jinx affects Ekko... wow. Jinx isn't even dead, but she's practically haunting all these characters.

Seriously, it's a purposeful choice to do this, his game icon has full hour glasses. But in Arcane they're not, they're drawn to be similar to Jinx's symbol. Just like with Viktor and Vi, it means internally, not even consciously, he's seeking her out for her.

#viktor arcane #the machine herald #machine herald #jinx arcane #arcane #arcane season 2 speculation #it sometimes feels like any mystery can use jinx to solve it #she's a wild card #a loose cannon #jinx is the random ingredient that falls into the cooking pot and when you taste it you’ve invented a whole new dish #it feels so on purpose that almost every league medium keeps viktor and jinx's interactions from minimal to nonexistent #they'd cause too much of an uproar #legends of runeterra technically doesn’t count #vi arcane #ekko arcane #ekko #arcane speculation #arcane meta #arcane season 2

[mcflymemes]

MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS *  collection #12

i'm just trying to figure out stuff.

oh. this is bad news.

don't bother.

you don't know that!

food and sex. those are my two passions.

you don't know my name, do you.

that must have been very hard, losing someone you love like that.

i'm beginning to be very fond of you.

that crap will kill you.

that's a shame.

this is quite a coincidence.

would you care to join me?

you are not a complete idiot.

that's an important part of any relationship.

i never go to funerals. i prefer to remember my friends as i saw them last.

thank you for that.

i sometimes have a silly effect on people.

that's very impressive.

you mustn't take me literally.

why can't people mind their own business?

do you see something wrong?

today was rough.

can i sit in this?

is this about me?

i like spending time with you.

i would love some help.

i really don't care for you much.

don't count on that.

why don't you get settled on the couch, and i'll bring you whatever you need.

i'll tell you how they did that later.

my car's right here.

i always get like this.

does he always wear a suit?

i've been living a lie.

i always liked the circus.

we don't hang out.

i could use some good news.

i can't tell you what a big help you've been.

is there anything that doesn't bore you?

i wouldn't put it past you.

i do a little cooking.

when did you first suspect me?

that can't be possible.

did they love you?

can all of this be true?

now wait a minute.

i was an idiot for giving in.

you and i think the same way. it's amazing.

forgive me for wandering off.

it's almost two o'clock in the morning! what are you doing here?

i do wish people would stop asking me that.

you must never underestimate me.

do you have a picture?

tell me you didn't predict that.

i can't let you get away with it.

i've got my eyes on you.

we're behind you. all of us.

it was a trivial matter.

there's no one i trust more with my life or my death than you.

please give me a hug.

are you sure you want to do that?

i just wanted to ask you a few questions.

i really love my work.

most people want to die in their sleep.

i like the way you wear your hair.

i don't know what you're talking about.

do you understand what i am telling you?

i happen to dress based on my mood.

just remember - it's not a lie if you believe it.

i advise you to do the same.

i couldn't resist trying your pinball machine.

there's just one more thing.

i'm not ready to say goodbye.

whatever it is, make it quick.

just tell me what's going on.

would you dance with me?

when you look annoyed all the time, people think you're busy.

#rp memes #rp starters #rp prompt #rp meme #rp musings #roleplay inbox prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #ask meme #ask memes #inbox meme #inbox prompts #inbox prompt #rp inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #mcflymemes #mine #misc

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

You don't know how much I want this character. You don't understand but I just gotta ask

Is This ATSV Character Thai?

aka a crash course in Thai tattooing and Buddhist tradition

Please correct me if I'm wrong - but I was really interested in her tattoo.

And looking at the tattoo they singled out beside her - it made me question:

Is that a Traditional Thai tattoo? Is that supposed to be Sak Yant?

And immediately I saw the opportunity to infodump about Buddhism and Thai cultural tattooing! (And my personal experience with it)

It makes me think that maybe this character was meant to me Thai - because her tiger tattoo resembles the twin tiger Sak Yant tattoo.

If you're unaware, Sak Yant is a type of traumatic tattoo native to Thailand.

Connected deeply to the Buddhist faith, Sak Yant tattoos are specific designs that are claimed to have spiritual power.

Typically done with a traditional needle and stick rather than a machine, Sak Yants are tattooed by a Thai Buddhist teacher, an Ajarn.

Each Sak Yant design grants the wearer fortune, protection, or a virtue relating to a Buddhist value.

Each Yant comes with conditions though.

In order to preserve the spiritual power of the tattoo, the wearer just act in accordance to certain standards of Buddhist teaching - simple things like no murder, no adultery/cheating, no lying, etc.

They say if you do these things, your Yant becomes useless over time.

Many Muay Thai fighters have many Sak Yants, typically for protection - which could be the reason she's wearing herself.

However, that doesn't necessarily mean that she's Thai - for one, the tattoo might not be a Sak Yant.

It doesn't exactly match a true Sak Yant design, however, it's fairly close.

It seems as if the creators mixed the Suea Liaw (left) and Suea Koo Maha (right) designs, combining them to form the unique design for the character.

This would be an interesting choice.

The Twin Tigers are one of the favorites of Muay Thai, as it represents protection, power, and authority, which could be useful to sometime working a bar like her.

However, it also seems similar to the Yant 'Suea Leaw Lung' - tattoo similar to Suea Liaw - except with a raised paw, much like hers. Leaw Lung is said (grain of salt unless you're hearing from a Ajarn though) - to bring positivity and safety to those struggling in life.

So the tattoo might not be a Sak Yant - or it could be a Yant style created specifically by the creators of ATSV (as they may have wanted to avoid using a real one, as they're really hard to do unless you're an Ajarn and know the symbols and language).

And also, not everyone who gets one is Thai - though many who get it are Buddhist.

Like me!

Angelina Jolie is popular for the number of Yants she has on her back.

Angelina is in fact a Buddhist and has raised her children within the religion*.

She, like most other Buddhists, got hers done traditionally, under the hand of a Ajarn.

The one in the center of her back - is actually the one I have as well.

(Angelina's back after her 5th Yant)

Religiously, I am a Theravada Buddhist - though I more focus on the Plum Tree Tradition of Thigh Nhat Hanh.

Theravada Buddhism is the type most prevalent in South East Asia, in contrast with the Nepali and Tibetan Mahayana - which the Dhali Lama belongs to.

I got my Sak Yant done under the hand of an Arhat as well, traditional needle style about 3 years ago in Chiang Mai (Northern Thailand)

The one I have is Yant Putsoorn - the 5 Buddhas yantra.

Although there are many vague ass descriptions of what each Yant means online - my Ajarn personally told me Putsoorn is aimed at raised compassion mindfulness towards yourself and others as well - usually known as loving-kindness.

So she could be specifically Buddhist as well, if the tattoo is supposed to be Yant.

I think the idea is so so cool, because you may see traditional Japanese tattoo designs, many breathtaking , but it's rare you see other forms of traditional tattoo in day to day media!

I really really want to see her in action now! Just to see that tattoo up close. Plus she's so bad-ass!

I was SO SO SO excited to see her tattoo, and I really hope it is one! More Buddhist characters please. You can be hardcore and Buddhist too!

But does anybody have any other theories of what this tattoo could be? Do you know why traditional designs outside of Yant that this could be? Do you agree this could be Yant?

I'm curious!!

* Just a bonus: I wanted to highlight my use of the word religion in reference to Buddhism. Often in the West, Buddhism is reduced to a 'philosohy' or 'a way of life' rather than a legitimate religion. This is reductive. Buddhism is a religion, with monks, nuns, plains of existence, 'heavens' (very different context than Abrahamic - being reborn in heaven actually makes it harder to reach nirvana, because you are tempted by more comfort. Being born on Earth is the easier way to reach nirvana). Buddhism has ceremonies and centuries worth of text and practice - like Sak Yant. Although it is centered in mindfulness, acceptance, and love - and these teachings can be used by anyone regardless of religion - Buddhism is a religion. Just one far removed from the western Abrahamic understanding of religion. You can read and encorporate any of the teachings, it's very very very open. There are no borders between people, and any heart that is open or desiring it can engage with Buddhism as much or as little as they need to. But I think it's important to refer to Buddhism as a religion so the world conversation on religion isn't centered on Abrahamic, Western ideals and history - when in fact there are many loving, kind, and rich religions out there. From Hoodoo, to Sikhism, to Buddhism and beyond :)

#we NEED a Thai spider please!!! #ISN'T THIS SO COOL ISN'T IT #WE GETTING ENLIGHTENED IN HERE #For those curious I'm a ancestoral worshipper (which is common in Theravada) #Spiritually I practice Hoodoo - Religiously I am Buddhist #no proofread lolol #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #beyond the Spiderverse #mauro belfiore

[tsukishumai]

Love Galore

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f!reader x bokuto koutsro

chapter summary: an introspective view of the story's events from the beginning — through the eyes of Akaashi Keiji

wc: 19.2k+ [jfc i really am so sorry]

a/n: thank you to those that have stuck by me and this story, despite my hiatus. i truly appreciate every single person that's ever read a single word of LG, or left lovely messages/comments, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much. i worked on this chapter, little by little every day, and i promise i never stopped thinking about you guys. i kept thinking it was done, but apparently i had a lot to say haha. this still isn't the end, but please enjoy the chapter, i've worked really hard on it and i hope you like it :) your love and support mean the world to me, xoxo

Masterlist

chapter 14 ✧ souffle pancakes

Akaashi doesn’t say much, but he sees it all. 

It was a habit that he’s had for as long as he could remember, practically born with. Practically second nature, it seems, for him to keep a keen and sharp eye on his surroundings, making mental notes until it’s all piled up and cluttered into his brain. He’s been called many things in his short life. Observant. Perspective. Attentive. Psychic. Genius. Creepy. 

Akaashi prefers to just be called Keiji. 

Most of the time, he thinks it’s a blessing.  

When he was younger, he’d impress all the old ladies in his neighborhood with his mindless comments.

Have you lost weight?

That’s a new jacket isn’t it, oba-san?

Oh, that must be a different perfume you���re wearing today.

Comments that sounded adorable coming from a child, when all the others in his age range could barely notice if they were even wearing matching shoes. 

Sometimes, he’s thankful. It was what got him so far in the sport he loved, after all. His ability to see things others usually just brush to the side — how an opponent grits his teeth and flexes his jaw right before he jumps up for the spike, or the directions their eyes tend to flicker to right before they pass the ball. How the twitch of their lip meant anger and annoyance, or the restless running around the court showing impatience. 

Akaashi sees it all – each bit of information sorted into the compartments in his mind, saving it for when he needs to make his move. This wasn’t something inherent – it was a skill he only learned with time, through trials and errors until his mind became a well-oiled machine. Eventually, it’d become difficult for anyone to escape the sharpness of Akaashi’s eyes, and it’s a skill he’s always used to his own benefit. 

If that player’s angry, it will be easy to bait him. If he’s impatient, then it’s just a matter of time before he makes a mistake. And Akaashi will be right there waiting. 

It was easily applicable outside of the court as well.

In the hallways of school, he’d learned to ignore the giggles and whispers in his wake. Making friends was simple, almost effortless. An off-handed comment about someone’s new haircut, bringing his classmates snacks and drinks as if he had just accidentally bought too much at the convenience store – not a single person thinking twice at the fact that he’d miraculously gotten all their favorites. 

Akaashi was the guy that would notice if you were wearing different nail polish, or if the charms on your backpack were different, would note if you’ve started a new sport or were talking about that new drama just a little bit more often – and he’d say a something that could be compliment, with only a few words at best, but it was enough for you to note that he was paying attention. 

In his second year of junior high, he’d even become quite the hot topic among the girls in his class, because somehow he could always tell who had a crush on who. They’d flock around his desk like vultures, picking at whatever bits and scraps they could get from his carcass until he had no choice but to throw them a bone. 

If you get this bread for Yagi-kun, he’ll really like it. 

Arakawa-san told me he likes girls with short hair. 

Toku-san studies in the library on Wednesdays, you should bring him a drink.

The boys would try to act like they’re not interested in the commotion that always seemed to surround Akaashi. Gossip? That’s for the girls – not something for boys to partake in. But it was only a matter of time before they’d come running to Akaashi for a “psychic reading”, never wanting to admit that all they really wanted was a bit of guidance. 

They’d come running back to him, tittering and snickering whenever his advice would work. Suddenly, he was seen as a genius, a guru – as much as any preteen boy could actually be.

It was easy, really – a person’s body language can often tell you much more than words could ever manage to say, and Akaashi had always been an avid reader. He’d try to tell them as much, try to teach his friends what to look for and where, but alas the ability had still been dubbed a ‘gift’.

But sometimes, it can be a curse. 

For a long while, there were only two kinds of people in Akaashi’s life: those that wanted to use him for his talents, and those that seemed to resent him for it. 

It was actually comical how fast it is for some to turn their backs. Flipping around on him like a switch, taking all the brightness with them and leaving Akaashi alone in the dark. 

He had learned – the hard way – that most people actually quite hated the notion of being perceived. It strikes them with a sense of anxiety that was unfamiliar – not exactly fear, but something akin to uneasiness. The constant feeling of eyes on your back was enough to drive anyone crazy, even more so when you’re meant to be somewhere safe. 

It’s not as if Akaashi was doing it on purpose. Sometimes, he wasn’t even aware he was doing anything at all. He wasn’t watching anyone specifically, but was it his fault if certain things caught his attention? Was it wrong for him to be observant of his surroundings? His classmates were part of his environment, it was only natural for them to be part of his observations as well. It was nothing personal, it was just a habit.

It was difficult to explain as such when a boy from his class called him a stalker for knowing he was in the soccer club, because how else could Akaashi have known? He hardly knew Akaashi. Even though Akaashi pointed out the grass stains on his socks and the pair of cleats peeking out of his bag, the boy still threatened Akaashi to stay far away. 

It was even harder for him to calm the angry girl from two classes over – the one that happened to always eat at the lunch table next to his in the cafeteria. He froze when she stormed up to him, tossing a baby blue hair clip on his table. Steam was billowing out from her eyes, saying she’d only ever spoken a grand total of six words to him, so how the hell does he know her favorite color? Never mind the fact that her earrings, her phone case, her jacket, her thermos, and her bento are all that same color. It was an educated guess, one that was clearly correct if her angry reaction was enough to go by. 

It was frustrating, honestly. Did she even know how pathetic his own classmate looked, sniffing around Akaashi and asking how he should approach the cute girl from class 2-C? Was it really wrong for Akaashi to suggest getting her a hair clip in the same color? What difference did it make whether he figured out random stuff about her or not? 

But the scowl she threw in his direction had almost successfully masked the panic that swept through her eyes. But Akaashi had seen it. 

She was afraid. Of him.

She had called him names then, names he had heard before. Weirdo. Stalker. Creep. Names that never bothered him in the past, but coupled with the look of fright on this girl's face – whose favorite color he knew, but name remained foreign – all of it sounded much harsher than he ever remembered. Especially when she dumped the rest of her milk on the top of his head. 

After that incident, there was a sort of shift in public opinion on Akaashi. The whispers that followed him down the hall no longer mingled with soft giggles and smiles. They were whispers behind narrowed eyes and scowling faces, disapproving frowns upon any lips that would say his name.

Some friends stood by his side, half-heartedly defending him in a way that told him they didn’t actually care – they just wanted to stay on his good side. Nosy busybodies that only shielded him from the wary stares so they could keep asking him for his advice on whether he thought Dairiki-kun like girls with bangs or without.

It was one of the few times Akaashi had really, truly felt pathetic. His life was sitting in the sweaty palms of his peers, and a single wrong move will have him crushed by their grubby little fingers. It was infuriating, suffocating – having to think twice, thrice, four times before Akaashi could even say a single word. 

But they had already decided on the box they would put Akaashi in, and he could do nothing more than sit still. Sit still and ignore the sneers and scowls from people that he used to call friends. Stay quiet when the boys of his class would shove him around the halls calling him freak. Look the other way when he’d come back to his desk and his things were destroyed. Ignore the pang in his chest when he ate his lunches alone in the library. 

At the turn of his adolescence – his first year of high school – Akaashi decided that things needed to change. 

Fukurodani Academy was a different setting – different classes, different halls, different people.

He would be a different Akaashi Keiji. No longer putting himself out there, or offering his observations to anyone who would listen. He would just keep to himself, and not let anyone close enough to contain him again.

Then he met Bokuto Kotaro. 

The boy was simplistic in nature. Kind and bright, with a horde of people that always followed him around wherever he went. Dozens of eyes constantly tracked his every move without fail, and Bokuto happened to be the type of person that thrived in such an environment. Though, despite being interested in the same sport, Akaashi never felt the need to become a part of his entourage. He was exactly the kind of guy Akaashi wanted – needed –  to avoid. 

But some things are simply not up to him. Each morning, he managed to mask the slight surprise on his face each time he walked into the volleyball team’s gym, and found that Bokuto was already there. And had probably been there for who knows how long. When Akaashi joined this team, he fully expected to always be the first to show up, and last to leave the gym each day, just as it was at his previous school. 

Yet, there Bokuto was, every morning without fail, nothing but his grunts and the echoes of the ball spiking on the ground filling the gym. Every morning, he’d greet Akaashi with too much energy, the corners of his lips never dropping despite the fact that Akaashi never responded with anything other than a silent nod. 

For a little while, that was all they had. A silent agreement to work together on the sport they loved, to be a team on the court, and strictly teammates off of it. Nothing more, nothing less. Bokuto continued being his charming self, scoring victories and basking in adoration as he was wont to do. Akaashi stood content to the side, satisfied with the joy of knowing his serves were in the capable hands of such an ace. 

Akaashi should have known that it was only a matter of time until Bokuto would flip everything around. 

They had been alone in the gym for at least an hour at that time, while the rest of Fukurodani Volleyball Club had gone home at an actual reasonable hour. The sun was already slipping past the horizon, taking with it the last tendrils of the day’s light. Bokuto had begged Akaashi to stay a little longer and help with his spikes, as usual. And Akaashi was quick to agree, as usual. 

What was unusual was the way Bokuto kept glancing at Akaashi from the corner of his eye, and Akaashi wanted to laugh at Bokuto’s pathetic excuse of being discreet.

“What is it?��� Akaashi asked, uncharacteristically breaking the silence. 

Bokuto jumped, startled that Akaashi noticed him watching. It took a second for Bokuto to gather himself, absentmindedly bouncing the volleyball on the gleaming gym floor, face scrunched in a way that Akaashi had only seen while Bokuto was on the court.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Bokuto opened with those words, bouncing the ball one last time before catching it tightly in his hands. Akaashi’s silence was the only indicator of an agreement, and Bokuto took this as his cue to continue. 

“Why do you hold back?” 

There were many things Akaashi thought Bokuto might have asked. This one wasn’t even really on the list. Akaashi had forgotten what it felt like to be caught so off guard, unable to do anything but stand stupidly as his mind buffered. Bokuto’s pupils moved imperceptibly quickly, raking themselves all over Akaashi. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Akaashi replied carefully, his shoulders rigid, nervously clasping his hands in front of him.

Bokuto frowned a little deeper, resting the volleyball now between his arm and his hip. “You don’t have to lie, Akaashi. I can tell you’re not… I see how you watch everything, but you always catch yourself before doing anything. It’s like you’re scared or… or – I don’t know! But you are, you’re holding back! I can just tell.”

It took all of Akaashi’s willpower not to let his jaw hang loose, only allowing himself to blink slowly. He dug through his mind, searching through every crevice for any memory of someone being able to read him like this. He went out of his way to be invisible, yet the overly cheerful, happy go lucky, sunshine ace of the volleyball team had somehow managed to still see right through him. 

“So why?” Bokuto prodded again, and his tone could easily be confused as haughty, but Akaashi knew better. Akaashi continues to study Bokuto, the poor boy fidgeting under Akaashi’s frigid stare. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t back away. His weight shifted from one foot to the other, but he still waited for an answer

“It’s a long story,” Akaashi said quietly, turning around to walk towards the volleyball cart. 

He hoped that would be the end of it, that Bokuto would take the hint and leave him alone. But before he could take more than three steps toward the cart, it clattered loudly and rolled away with the momentum of the volleyball that just landed into it from across the gym. 

Akaashi turns back to Bokuto, a single eyebrow raised incredulously at Bokuto’s now empty hands. A corner of Bokuto’s mouth lifts devilishly, and he offers Akaashi nothing but a shrug of his shoulders.

“I’ve got a bit of time,” Bokuto rests his hands on his hips, shifting all his weight onto one leg. Akaashi wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, and wanted to ask Bokuto why he even cared. He was happy with how things were right now, and there was no need for him to do anything drastic. 

Even as the thought passed through his mind, Akaashi could feel no truth behind it. And one look at Bokuto told him that he was not winning this round. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and heaved out a sigh.

“If I don’t hold myself back, then people tend to get intimidated,” Akaashi offered, and that was as much as he was willing to expand on at this moment. “And when people are scared of you… that’s when you find out how nasty they can actually be.” 

“So what? You’re scared?” Bokuto asked, and Akaashi scoffed because of course he wouldn’t understand. Everyone loved Bokuto, and even those that didn’t still held some sort of respect for him. He was the ace of the volleyball team, and he was the school’s heartthrob. What the hell would he know about being shunned and isolated?

Akaashi opened his mouth to say something snarky, the words burning up his throat and on to the tip of his tongue. Except when his lips parted, it wasn’t his voice that came out.

“If you hold yourself back because of random, faceless people, then aren’t you letting them win?” Bokuto interrupted Akaashi before he could speak, as if he knew that if he let the setter say whatever he was about to say, then the conversation would take a dive into the worst. “I hate losing, Akaashi.”

“What does me losing have anything to do with you?” Akaashi asked.

“Because we’re partners now. I got your back, and if you lose, I lose,” Bokuto smiled this time, and Akaashi’s chest felt a little bit lighter, “Like I said, I hate losing. So don’t make me into a loser, okay? Or it’s gonna be a problem.”

Bokuto brushes past Akaashi as he finishes speaking, hands resting on the back of his head as he walks the distance across the gym and to the volleyball cart. Akaashi’s eyes followed him in awe, a sudden fluttering in his heart and stomach as the ace digs out a new volleyball and bounces it twice onto the hardwood floors.

“We’ve only done eighty serves,” Bokuto changes the topic seamlessly, continuing on as if he hadn’t rendered Akaashi speechless, “We gotta do at least twenty more before Yamiji-san comes back to kick us out.” 

Akaashi felt his feet move, his arms positioning themselves to receive, his body running around the gym until sweat dripped on the floor all around him. But his thoughts were elsewhere, plagued with memories of a past that had apparently silenced him into a pathetic existence. He’d thought this path would be better, make him feel like he belonged.

Maybe for a while, he convinced himself that it did, satisfied with existing as a shadow on the wall. He hadn’t anticipated Fukurodani's golden-eyed Adonis to shatter the illusion with so much ease, Akaashi wonders how he ever fooled himself into believing it in the first place. 

They didn’t say a single word to each other for the rest of their practice. Or on the walk home. Or at morning practice the next day. Bokuto didn’t speak to Akaashi until the middle of their afternoon practice, when Akaashi had received every single one of Konoha’s spikes and gave Bokuto elegant, risky serves that had everyone on the other side of the net scrambling on their feet. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Bokuto exclaimed while pumping his fist, giving Akaashi a pat on the back that made the setter jerk forward two steps, “Keep that up, Akaashi!”

Akaashi rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side. That’s when he noticed the thumbs up Bokuto had thrown you from across the court, and the relieved smile you returned as you flipped the numbers on the scoreboard. You and Bokuto held each other’s gazes for a moment longer, and Akaashi felt like he’d eavesdropped on an entire conversation. 

You shivered slightly when Bokuto broke away, as if Akaashi’s icy stare washed over your entire body. Then you turned your head unnaturally quick and met Akaashi’s stare dead on, making him jolt. You offered him a small wave and half a grin, but before he could respond, Bokuto was dragging him back into the game. 

After practice, Akaashi found Bokuto waiting for him by the gates of the school. He flew into an immediate tirade about the bad grade he got on his exam, and how the cafeteria ran out of katsu before he could get there. You showed up in the middle of Bokuro’s story, and the three of you started walking in sync towards the direction of Akaashi’s house, your voice mingling with Bokuto’s as you offered your own tidbits of the day. Akaashi didn’t question how you both knew where he lived, or why he was suddenly flanked by the two chattiest students in Fukurodani. But if Akaashi had known that was how it would all begin, then he might have cherished that moment a little bit more. 

He never really spoke to you during his initial months in the club, which isn’t saying much as he didn’t speak to anyone. You were nice enough – always asked him how he was doing, berating the older ones whenever they’d give him a hard time, giving him reassuring smiles whenever he got scolded for messing up. The perfect example of a manager; your only fault being the nonsensical hearts in your eyes whenever they happened to land on Bokuto. 

You tried to hide it desperately, but there was no hiding the affection in your smiles whenever they were directed toward Bokuto. It was obvious, painfully so, and it bewildered Akaashi that Bokuto still had not noticed. He can at least assume Yukie and Kaori knew, if the worried glances they threw at each other behind your back were of any indication. But if they or anyone else on the team were aware of your feelings, they respected your efforts enough to keep their thoughts to themselves. 

He couldn’t blame you, not in the slightest. Not when Akaashi’s own heart skipped a beat or two during the night of that initial confrontation, and suddenly he himself was enamored by the ace – wanted to give him the best serves, set up the best plays, win him all the games. When Bokuto was on the court, then it was natural law of the universe for Akaashi to use every skill in his arsenal to make sure he shines. Akaashi did not choose for it to be this way, it simply is.

Perhaps that was how it was for you as well, Akaashi thought. Sometimes, the most painful part about love is having no choice, the complete loss of control. Akaashi could see it; the groan after each stolen glance, shaking him off when his hug made your face too hot,  how you would slap your cheeks whenever you caught yourself staring, like a desperate attempt to break yourself out of some wretched spell.

If Akaashi was being honest, he hated seeing you that way. It didn’t take long for you to become someone precious to him, maybe even quicker than it took for Bokuto. Bokuto infuriated Akaashi as easily as he amazed him, each day a toss up on whether he admired him or wanted to strangle him.

But you brought Akaashi comfort, and a sense of understanding he’d never experienced from a friend. Sure, technically it was your job to assist the team, but he could tell that everything you did truly came from your heart. You were kind and selfless, the type of person that would give someone the very shirt off your back but still spit venom at anyone that spoke ill of your friends. 

To have you in his corner, Akaashi couldn’t even begin to explain how much it saved him. He’d been drowning in the middle of an ocean, nearly overpowered by turbulent waves when Bokuto had given him a boat, and you’d given him an oar. As long as he remained with the two of you, then Akaashi thought he could get himself through it all. 

So whenever he would watch you watch Bokuto flex his muscles to the girls cheering in the stands during a game, watch you gripping your clipboard so hard your knuckles turned white, he may feel... a little bit more than annoyed. And whenever Bokuto would then openly flirt with some of those girls after the game, Akaashi could admit that he might even feel a little bit upset.

Because how could he not see the way you look at him, how you smile when he says your name, how you trail after him like a lovesick puppy? At this point, Akaashi’s been friends with the two of you for months, won and lost countless games, gone to training camps, spent more time with each other than with your own families. And the entire time, Akaashi had to work very hard to act like he didn’t notice your feelings. How could Bokuto still be so ignorant? 

It really bothered him a lot more than he cared to admit, and it surprised him. Akaashi never expected to care about you the way he does, but there it was. Maybe it was this comfortable closeness between you that propelled Akaashi to act so boldly, in a way he couldn’t bring himself to in a long time. 

At the end of one of these unsavory games, while Bokuto busied himself with trying to get the number of a cheerleader in the stand, Akaashi scanned the court for a second, stopping only when his eyes landed on you. You were comparing your notes with the coach, and Akaashi waited until you finished speaking and Yamiji-san stalked off to scold someone else before he approached. 

“Keiji! There you are, I wanted to talk to about your receives in the first set, you –”

“Are you ever going to tell him?” Akaashi asked, not even registering what you were saying. You might have been irritated at his interruption if you hadn’t been confused by the seemingly random question he just threw at your face.

“What? Tell who what?” 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi crossed his arms and straightened his back, “Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?”

You blinked at him once, the only indication that you heard what Akaashi said. He stood facing you, and the seconds seemed to stretch as you did nothing but stare back. The cacophony of sounds that usually bounced along the walls of the gym suddenly sounded muffled and dull. Your lips twitched slightly before they spread into a rehearsed grin, your face slipping easily into a mask of casual indifference.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Keiji,” you answered him softly, shaking your head. 

“Come on, Y/N,” Akaashi groaned, “You know exactly –”

“No, I really don’t,” you said almost pleadingly, your eyes darting around the gym, a mixture of sadness and relief in them when you see Bokuto still showing off to the girls that descended from the bleachers. You look back at Akaashi, brows furrowed as you said, “I don’t know what would make you even think that. Bokuto’s my best friend – that’s it. God, Akaashi, you should really be careful about what you say. If someone heard you, they might have gotten the wrong idea.”

You shot him another hard look – almost a glare, and one that he could read very well, that told him you knew he knew you were lying, that said please, just play along – before you made an excuse of gathering up all the other players for the bus back to school. 

Akaashi’s feet felt stuck to the ground, an achingly familiar helplessness sluicing through him as you walked away. He couldn’t even bring himself to move until Bokuto threw an arm around his shoulder to drag him out, finally done with his flirting and ready to go home. 

You were already seated on the bus when Bokuto and Akaashi finally deigned to board. The seat beside you was occupied by a chattering Yukie, who refused to move despite Bokuto’s complaints of always being the one that sits next to you. You laughed sheepishly and yelled claims of ‘manager bonding’ and doing everything you could to avoid meeting Akaashi’s eye. 

That was the tone of your relationship for the next few weeks. An awkward tension that no one else seemed to notice but you and him. You didn’t treat him any differently – you still greeted him with a smile, walked home together everyday, still messed with him during practice. You still asked him about his day, and told him about yours and Akaashi almost could have convinced himself that nothing was wrong. 

But everything you did started to feel like an act. Disingenuous, like a robot following a set program. You stopped sitting next to Bokuto at lunch, started walking to classes with your other friends instead. Your eyes started flicking to Akaashi whenever you felt you laughed too loudly at Bokuto’s jokes, and you latched yourself to the other players, throwing everyone off kilter. 

You were going out of your way to prove a point that only Akaashi could understand, and even when Bokuto himself had pointed out your strange behavior, you simply brushed him off. There was a sense of insecurity that Akaashi knew he instilled in your actions, and it brought a twinge of regret that he never wanted to feel when it came to you. 

Akaashi had been pouring over how to remedy the situation for days when an olive branch came in the form of Bokuto’s new girlfriend. 

She was a girl from another school, and he met her after one of their games. She came over to their side of the court and congratulated Bokuto for thoroughly defeating her team. She was very pretty and he liked her smile, so Bokuto had asked her out, and she was very quick to say yes. She was waiting for him one day after practicing, standing patiently at the entrance gates with a bag of homemade cookies in her hand. 

Bokuto was so excited as he ran out of the gym to meet her, sparing one minute to ask Akaashi to let you know where he’d gone. Akaashi supposed it was a little comforting to know that Bokuto genuinely cared about you, even if it was encased with his own selfishness. 

Akaashi waited until the rest of the volleyball club had emptied the gym before he made his way into the equipment room. He could hear your sniffling before he even opened the door, his heart slowly crumbling when he walked in on you crouched behind the volleyball cart. 

You sat on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. Your forehead rested against your knees, and your quiet sobs filled the tiny room. You didn’t bother to look up as Akaashi approached, and fought his own tears as your shoulders shook with every breath. 

He kneeled in front of you quietly, silently debating with himself before he placed a tender hand on your shoulder. You continued to cry, taking uneven, shaky breaths. You didn’t move from your position, and Akaashi briefly wondered if you’d even registered his presence. 

“Did he leave?” You asked suddenly, voice thick and hoarse.

“Yes,” Akaashi answered. 

Slowly, you lifted your head to face him. Your eyes were puffed and swollen, eyes rimmed with red and cheeks stained with tears. Snot dribbled down your nose disgracefully, and there was a sorry attempt on your part to wipe away the evidence of your heartbreak. The sleeves you’d worn your heart on were now soaked with salty tears, and you couldn’t control the tremble of your lips. 

Akaashi didn’t know what else to do other than wrap his arms around you. The position was awkward and he’s pretty sure he’d actually never hugged you before. He felt you stiffen for a second, almost making him pull back. But then you buried your face into the crook of his neck and cried. Akaashi could feel his shirt begin to soak, but he pulled you tighter against him. 

He had no idea how long he held you for, but he stayed there in that smelly old equipment room and he held you until his knees ached and you had no more tears left to give. 

Neither of you spoke once you were done, giving him a sad smile as you pulled away. He didn’t offer one back, but he helped you up to your feet and kept an arm around your shoulder as you both walked out silently. Akaashi knew there was nothing he could say to soothe the pain, and you didn’t look like you wanted to say a single word about it anyway. 

He simply walked home with you as usual, taking the long way around to ensure you both end up walking by your favorite takoyaki stand. He spent the money he was saving in his wallet for a rainy day, and bought you all the food you could eat. He had even gotten your favorite popsicle from the convenience store by your house, and though you still remained silent, he was happy to see you eat everything he gave you. 

By the time Akaashi dropped you off at your front door, the tears were long gone and the moon was high in the sky. You turned to Akaashi, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tried to find the words. Akaashi smiled to himself, and reached out to pat his hand lightly on the top of your head.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, hoping you’d believe him. The lonely smile you gave him tells him you don’t, but you hug each other one last time anyway before saying your goodbyes.

Akaashi remembered the first time you and Bokuto successfully broke through his brick walls. Broke might have been too gentle of a word for it though – smashed through might be better. It was at the start of his second season with Fukurodani, and he was still riding the high of an amazing first year. He was ready for an even better year, ready to try out his new skills at the first practice match Yamiji-san had arranged with a school the team had never played with before. 

Then a familiar voice called his name from the other side of the court. A few familiar faces from a life he was desperate to forget peered at him through the net, chuckling and laughing and asking him where the hell he’s been for the past year? Akaashi froze – completely and pathetically froze. It was only after six missed serves and accidentally smacking Bokuto in the back of the head with a ball did Yamiji-san finally tire of his antics and benched him for the rest of the game. 

Akaashi ran to the locker rooms as soon as practice was over. He didn’t acknowledge his old classmates, didn’t even pretend to be polite or engage in empty pleasantries. Instead, he hid in one of the shower stalls until the rest of the team left and he was absolutely sure there would be no one left to see him leave. 

But when he exited the stall, there you were. Standing next to Bokuto in a locker room he was absolutely sure you weren’t allowed to be in, with your hands on your hip and brows etched in concern. The two of you cornered him, and barricaded him until he fessed up about what the hell just happened on that court. Akaashi was a resilient man, but even he could do nothing against you two. 

So he told you everything – from his ‘guru’ days to the milk dumping incident to the isolation and bullying – everything. He didn’t stop speaking for what felt like hours, but neither you nor Bokuto interrupted him once, allowing him to regurgitate everything he’d been holding in for years. 

When he was done, he wasn’t sure what he expected. Pity, or sympathy or something like that. But, no. Instead, when he looked at the faces of his two best friends, all he saw was anger. Clenched fists, tight jaws, fire burning in eyes – anger. And it made him happy. Whatever happened in his past didn’t matter, because here, he had two people who were willing to get angry on his behalf. 

He thought he couldn’t get any closer to you than he was at that moment. But he was wrong.

Walking away from your doorstep, Akaashi knew the bond between the two of you was solidified after this – having already seen each other at your worst, taking turns being each other’s salvation. You become more than his friend, you were his sister. Sister in pain, sister in darkness, sister in light. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, and you for him. 

Thinking back, the sobbing was probably a bit of an overreaction. A little dramatic considering Bokuto had broken up with that girl not even three weeks later. He was crying and moaning about it for about ten minutes until you promised to take him to his favorite yakiniku spot, and he never thought about that girl again. 

Things would go back to normal for a little while – the three of you acting as reckless teenagers do when they had free reign over the streets of Tokyo. Sitting in cafes sharing one drink for four hours, getting scolded by the coach for staying in the gym too long, laughing and arguing over the most ridiculous reasons that Bokuto turned emo. 

Until Bokuto meets his next girlfriend. Then your heart breaks into a million pieces, and Akaashi tries to hold you together. Then Bokuto breaks up with his girlfriend, and comes running back with crocodile tears in his eyes. You’d catch him again with open arms, and things are alright for a little while until the ugly cycle starts over again. 

Akaashi tried not to let himself wonder why you allowed yourself to accept this – allow Bokuto to put you through it over and over again. He told himself that he didn’t really care, it wasn’t any of his business. Whether you told Bokuto your true feelings or not was your prerogative, and Akaashi wouldn’t do anything but respect your decisions. Even if the decision seemed borderline masochistic. 

Akaashi is forced to simply brush off his irritation at his best friend, because Bokuto was so painfully unaware of what he’d been doing. And if Bokuto was too stupid to see what was right in front of his eyes, then Akaashi was not interested in being the one to enlighten him. 

Ultimately, Akaashi does what he does best – keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself. He would listen to every single complaint Bokuto would have about his girlfriends, but he never dared offer his own opinions. He allowed you to drag him to whatever random activity would keep your mind off your own issues, but he never outwardly acknowledged the hurt you always tried to hide. 

And as horrible it is to say, the girls never lasted very long. A month, maybe two at the most. Hardly enough time for Akaashi to memorize any names, as cruel as that sounded. Soon enough, they would complain about his training schedule, or whine about how he hangs out with his friends a bit too much, and that was all it took for Bokuto to cut it off. Bokuto’s priorities always remained the same, and that at least was something Akaashi happily gave him credit for. 

By the time college rolled around, you had even started dating. No one else had ever successfully managed to ensnare your attention for more than five minutes, but Akaashi appreciated seeing you try. Though he admits it was rather amusing to see Bokuto so fervently talk shit about any person you had even a remote interest in, and maybe a little bit more than satisfying to see Bokuto finally be the one on the other side. 

Bokuto, surprisingly, never actually brought any of his girlfriends around. He talked about them, and on occasion, he would invite them to some of his games, but that was it. It was odd, because Bokuto had always struck Akaashi as the type that wanted his partner cheering for him at every opportunity they could get, and would want to hear their voice screaming his name from the stands. But on the rare occasion he actually allowed any of them to come watch him, Bokuto was quick to usher them out of the gym before anyone could even introduce themselves.

It bewildered Akaashi to no end. Was it because he was ashamed?Akaashi’s met at least two girlfriends, and Bokuto’s gone on double dates with Konoha and Washio. Was he hiding his girlfriends from you?

Did he finally get a taste of his own medicine when he saw you kiss that guy in your psych class? Was Bokuto trying to spare you the pain? Akaashi didn’t really want to think of the implications if that statement were true. 

Well, out of sight, out of mind was a set up that worked for him very well.

And more importantly, it worked well enough for you. Worked for Bokuto as well, apparently. He didn’t want to see any of your flings, and you were better off not seeing any of his. A nauseating song and dance that only the two of you knew the steps for. Neither of you were willing to be each other's partner, satisfied to let the opportunity suspend in the air between you, yet never reaching out to take it. 

But hey, if you’re fine with it, then Akaashi could work with this. He could live with this.

That was until Hikari came along. 

Akaashi was honestly a little surprised – Hikari wasn’t typically the type of woman that Bokuto would tangle himself with. That wasn’t to say anything about her looks, or her personality – she was very much Bokuto’s type. But she had already been an essential part of at least one aspect of his life before they started dating, and it was unusual for Bokuto to allow a relationship to transpire with someone so close – the manager of his team, at that. Bokuto always dated outside the proximity of his circle; someone that went to another school, or one that he met at the gym, or sat next to him in one of his classes. 

Never anyone too close. Never anyone that would matter if he lost them. 

But apparently, Hikari was a woman on a mission. Akaashi knew it from the first time he met her, could see it in the wolfish gleam in her eyes as she watched Bokuto from across the room.

He was a little taken aback, but not all that shocked when you came home from that party, practically giving him a heart attack when you burst through the front door and stormed directly to the couch. You didn’t spare him a glance before you face planted onto the cushions, buried your face into the decorative pillows he’d spent two hours picking, and let out the most ungodly scream he’d ever heard. 

You didn’t have to tell him what happened; Akaashi could easily guess. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he still asked slowly, afraid any sudden movements might cause you to lunge. 

“I wish I knew,” your voice was muffled, not bothering to lift your head from the pillow. 

A nagging voice in his head told him he should have stayed at that party, to be your emotional support at the very least if nothing else. He mentally kicked himself, glaring at the laptop he sat in front of, and the blinking document of his unfinished part in the group project he was meant to present to his group mates in the morning. As if the assignment was responsible for his failure. 

You’d be safe if he left, he reasoned with himself. The volleyball team was full of idiots, but they were all good guys. Besides, Bokuto was there and there wasn’t a single chance in hell anything bad would happen to you while he was around. And if Bokuto was too drunk, then Kuroo at least would make sure you all got home safely.  He’d even set himself up on the dining room table so he could see you walk through the front door with his own two eyes. 

Because he had fully expected you to walk through those doors with Bokuto in tow like you’ve done dozens of times, and the fact that you arrived in the dead of night alone was enough to make Akaashi’s blood pressure rise. 

He stood from his chair and walked the few short steps to the fridge. He opened the freezer door, pushing through packets of frozen meat until he found the cream puff flavored ice cream that you had to special order online. He grabs the pint and two spoons before he makes his way to the couch. 

You didn’t move when he pushed your leg to the side, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. You didn’t move when he nudged your calves with his knuckles and asked you to sit up before you suffocated. So he just leaned back, tossing the lid of the ice cream pint onto the coffee table before digging in. 

It’d been two bites of ice cream and one minute later when you slowly maneuver yourself to sit up. Akaashi tried to pretend not to notice you, but it was impossible when you snatched the extra spoon and the entire pint out of his hand in one fluid motion.

“Jesus, watch out for my fingers,” he mumbled, smirking at the glare you shot his way. But you only held the fake contempt until the first spoon of your favorite dessert hit your lips – then you were sighing and leaning your head against Akaashi’s shoulder.

He patted a hand on your knee, reaching over for a scoop of ice cream and chuckling when you blocked his spoon with yours. You tried to hide the ice cream from him, but his arms were long, and he easily snatched the pint back. 

“Hey!” you cried out, and Akaashi quickly conceded before you really took out a finger. 

“How’d you get home?” Akaashi asked, lifting his feet to rest them on the coffee table and leaning his head against yours.

“Kuroo walked me home,” you replied quietly.

“Good.”

Neither of you said another word as you let the quiet of the evening envelope you, not a single sound save for the occasional clashing of spoons when you both reached for another bite. He could feel you slowly ease beside him, the tension in your body melting away with each passing minute.

When the ice cream was finished, the empty pint decorated your table, along with two spoons haphazardly tossed, surrounded by splotches of melted cream that was sure to be a pain to clean. Your breathing was steady, and the time on the clock read ‘Akaashi is going to be exhausted in the morning’. 

He didn’t care, though. You hadn’t moved or spoken in a while now, and Akaashi was convinced you were already asleep. He already prepared himself to spend the night on the couch, your head on his shoulder and his body twisted in a way that was sure to make his back ache the next day. 

He was just seconds away from giving into sleep’s lovely tug when you broke the silence. 

“I saw him with…” you said, fiddling with the hem of your shirt and clearing your throat, “It was Hikari.”

Akaashi sighed, reaching a hand up to pat your head. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again, a pitiful question that he’s repeated to you countless times.

He waited for your usual answer – vehement denial that anything could be possibly wrong, an airy dismissal of his concerns, and a change in conversation so effortless, it almost makes Akaashi forget what he was saying to you in the first place.

This time, though – this time, a weighted silence followed his question, and you looped an arm around his, hugging him firmly.

“Not really,” you admitted softly. 

It was the first time Akaashi had ever heard you confess your heartache. It was always something that was unspoken, and seeing your crumpled face made Akaashi regret ever keeping things that way. He turned fully to wrap himself around you gently, and you gave yourself to his embrace. He’d only heard a sniffle or two, but he could feel the moisture slowly seeping into his t-shirt. It was a feeling that was achingly familiar. 

“Come on, now. Didn’t we say crying over boys was… I think your words were ‘so fucking embarrassing’,” Akaashi mumbled into your hair, smiling when he felt you chuckle against him. His stomach turned at the inadequacy of his words, but he had no idea what else to offer, so he simply offered himself. “I’m here for you, okay? Always.”

You pulled back for a moment to give him a watery smile. Akaashi wiped at your tear stained cheeks.

“Literally, your snot is dripping down to your mouth, and it’s disgusting.” 

Your laughter warmed Akaashi’s cheeks, smacking him on the shoulder before you stood up. You said nothing else as you stalked off into the darkness of your bedroom, not bothering to turn on any lights before shutting the door. 

A myriad of emotions swirled through Akaashi as he remained seated on the couch. Was there more that he could have said? Could have done? If he had stayed at the party, would he have been able to stop this from happening? Was it even any of his business to stop it? 

But Akaashi knows himself, and knows he would have said nothing if he saw Bokuto sneak away with Hikari. He would have done nothing except perhaps usher you to the other side of the house, using whatever means to keep you distracted. Even if he was there, all he could have done was spare you the knowledge of it – at least for one night. 

He couldn’t help but feel as if he failed you then – to be a good friend, a brother. Or maybe he’s failed you for years. You’d never see it that way, could never even fathom the notion of his failure, and somehow that thought bothers Akaashi more. 

Akaashi stood up and stalked to his own room. He shut the door and collapsed onto his bed, hatred pumping from his heart through his veins as he drifted off to sleep. 

It was that lingering hate he could still feel churning in his gut when he awoke the next morning that spurred him out of bed and scurrying into the living room. He had every intention of starting the day as a new man – one who didn’t allow his cowardice consume him, didn’t place the comfort of his wellbeing over the needs of those he loved. 

Those were the thoughts that ran through his mind, but his momentum halted instantly when he rounded the corner of the hallway, and saw you standing in the genkan. You looked like you had just rolled out of bed yourself, eyes swollen and still wearing the clothes from last night. Your hand rested on the doorknob, the front door wide open.

You turned to him as he approached, and gave him an almost pleading look. Akaashi only had to wonder why you were distressed for two seconds before Bokuto barrelled through the doorway, way too loudly and looking much too bright for the hour. 

Akaashi has seen this dance before. He’s seen it so many times, the sequence of it already playing out in his mind like a familiar melody. Bokuto comes in with a plan that sounded equal parts ridiculous and exhausting, dragging you out without even asking. Akkashi scoffed as you tried and failed to ward off Bokuto with pathetic excuses, but as usual he was having none of it. And both you and Akaashi knew better than to think you could win against Bokuto Kotaro. 

He stood aside while you flurried around the apartment like a blizzard storm, fighting the frown at how Bokuto stood in the foyer with his hands on his hips, a satisfied and smug look on his face. Bokuto turned to Akaashi as if he’d just noticed him for the first time, slapping him on the shoulder before asking, “Akaashi! Why do I feel like I didn’t even see you at all last night?”

It was an effort not to lift a hand and smack Bokuto in the back of the head right then and there. But thankfully, you came rushing out of your bedroom, hastily grabbing a pair of shoes from the genkan. You shot him one last apologetic glance, and you were out the door before he could even bid you goodbye. 

And there he stood – alone in the foyer of his own apartment, feeling like nothing more than a fly on the wall. 

A glance at the clock was the only thing that could have set him in motion, already running ten minutes later than he wanted to start his day. From the tornado named Bokuto that just passed, and the flurry in which Akaashi himself now dashed around, it seemed the apartment was destined to be chaotic. 

He was impatiently tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter, glaring at his coffee machine as if his sheer will would somehow make the brew drip faster, when there was another knock on the door. 

The day was already filled with chaos, but apparently also surprises, because the last person he expected to see on the other side of the threshold was Kuroo Tetsuro. 

The two boys blinked at each other for a second, Kuroo looking just as confused as Akaashi as to why he came to visit in the first place. Kuroo shifted his weight from one foot to the other with his hands tucked in his front pockets, offered Akaashi a nervous smile and a lukewarm attempt at small talk before finally asking if you were still asleep inside. 

Akaashi sighed as he delivered the unfortunate news that not only were you already awake, but were currently being dragged no doubt halfway across the city by none other than Kuroo’s very own roommate. 

“Do you guys not communicate or something,” Akaashi asked blandly, and Kuroo just shrugged.

“He wasn’t there when I got home last night, and he wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. What do you want from me?” 

Akaashi rolled his eyes, but he still widened the door for Kuroo to slip through, who only smiled at him sheepishly as he entered the apartment. Akaashi asked if he wanted some coffee, and Kuroo graciously accepted, slipping back into the easy, laid-back attitude that he’d always been known to wear. 

Content to leave Kuroo to his own devices, Akaashi darted back into his room to quickly change. When he emerged eight minutes later, fully clothed and his backpack dangling from his shoulder, Kuroo was filling up his thermos with coffee while Akaashi’s already sat waiting for him at the counter. 

Akaashi nodded his head in thanks, Kuroo handing him his cup as the two walked out of the apartment in tandem. He didn't say anything when Kuroo remained in step with him, chattering about his classes as they embarked on the twenty minute walk to campus. Didn’t even consider that it was a weekend, and Kuroo likely didn’t even have to head in this direction so early at all. 

Kuroo stayed with Akaashi as far as the library entrance, the latter almost entering the building before he finally had the frame of mind to wonder, “Wait, so why’d you stop by the apartment today?” Akaashi looked over his shoulder and adjusted his bag a bit higher, “Sorry, I was too distracted by… everything. Did you need something?”

Kuroo chuckled almost guiltily, a crooked smile on his lips. He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at Akaashi as if he was debating whether he wanted to tell him the truth. 

“Oh, ha,” Kuroo breathed out, shaking his head slightly, “No, I was just – I mean, y/n looked pretty out of it last night. And I was about to,” Kuroo cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt, “I was heading to that cafe – you know, the one in front of that seven eleven? – and I thought I’d check in to see if she was alive.”

Akaashi’s eyes softened in understanding, pressing his lips into a thin line and nodding his head once as he turned to face Kuroo fully and offered him half a smile.

“Thanks for taking her home last night, by the way,” said Akaashi, “She’s lucky you were still at the party.”

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. He takes a strap of his own backpack off his shoulder and flips it to the front, holding it against his chest as he hastily pulls open the zipper.

“Yeah, it was just good timing,” Kuroo replied while he continued to dig through his backpack. He eventually pulls out a few red packets and hands them to Akaashi, “Here. It’s red ginseng. I’m not sure how long you’re planning to be here, but it should help you get through the day.” 

Akaashi examined the red packets in his hand, almost pouting with appreciation to Kuroo. But when he lifted his head, Kuroo was already walking across the courtyard.

“Make sure to give one of those to y/n when you see her!” He yelled over his shoulder, waving at Akaashi one last time before taking off. 

Akaashi did eat the red ginseng, and it did help him get through the seven hours he had spent in the library that day. And he never thought twice about Kuroo’s impromptu visit to his apartment that morning, nor did he think twice about being escorted to the library despite the cafe Kuroo mentioned being on the complete opposite side of campus. 

Because that was just Kuroo – Akaashi had never known him to be any other way. The very definition of all bark no bite, the kind of man that would tease you relentlessly for a stain on your pants, then take you to a store to buy you a new pair. 

Though Kuroo may have been closer to Bokuto, Akaashi had a tremendous amount of respect for the man, and would probably even go so far as to say Kuroo was also one of his closest friends. 

And when Hikari started to prove herself a new fixture, and Bokuto’s absence became more frequent, Akaashi was appreciative of Kuroo’s steady presence – still showing up to the study sessions, and coming over to watch volleyball games on Akaashi’s “much nicer TV”, and grabbing hot ramen and a cold beer after a particularly stressful test. 

He was acting as the Kuroo Tetsuro he’d always been, and it was that semblance of normalcy that Kuroo effortlessly provided, without anyone asking him to, nor any expectations from anyone else – like a lighthouse in the middle of a raging storm, Akaashi knows it was Kuroo that brought them safely to harbor. 

Because Akaashi was waiting for it. Ever since that day you had come home from your outing with Bokuto, dragging your feet through the door, looking like someone had just ripped the world out from beneath your feet, he had been waiting. For the other shoe to drop, for the inevitable descent into madness - at least your version of it. 

He felt prepared for it in a way, felt ready. He was no longer going to pretend to believe your fake smiles and reassurances that you were fine while you locked yourself in your room days at a time, and he wasn’t going to let you throw yourself so hard into your studies that you forget to eat. 

Akaashi felt things would be different this time around. He’d make sure of it. So he waited for the moment your mask would fall, and prepared himself to catch the pieces.

But the moment never came. 

Don’t misunderstand. It’s not as if Akaashi wanted to see you have a mental breakdown for the eighth time in as many years, and he certainly didn’t want to watch you retreat into a shell of yourself as you attempt to reconcile your new reality with your broken fantasies. 

Akaashi can see it in your face sometimes, even though you try your hardest to hide it. The exhaustion beneath your red-rimmed eyes, the very slight downturn of your lips when you thought no one was paying attention, and the tiredness in your slumped shoulders, as if you’ve been carrying a mountain on your shoulders. 

Still, you always made sure to take care of everybody, and you did it for so long. Akaashi didn’t want to admit to being part of the guilty party, but he had just been as willing to take everything you gave, and believed when you said you needed nothing in return. 

It was shameful, and a little bit more than selfish, but a small part of him wanted this chance. To prove himself a worthy friend, that he could take care of the people that mattered to him the most. He almost hated himself for it, for using your suffering as an opening, but he wanted to make up for all the lost opportunities, for the pain his silence might have caused. 

It was his turn to take care of you, and he was ready to do a damn good job.

Except, you were fine. 

He was thankful, if not a little thrown off by the lack of a depressive episode. But thankful, nonetheless. 

More than thankful, though, he was curious. Bokuto was becoming increasingly absent, flaking on plans and ignoring phone calls. Akaashi had never seen him be so serious about a girl, and even he was feeling annoyed about being left in the proverbial dust. Akaashi had imagined you’d be a little more… upset.

He hadn’t noticed any particular changes. Your routine hardly deviated, aside from the occasional dinners or drinks at the bar with him and Kuroo – if you were not in class you were at work, if you weren’t at work you were home, and if you weren’t home you were in class. For a short while, Akaashi felt like he had been living with a ghost, just going through the motions until the sun set and rose again for the new day. 

Sometimes, though, he’d find you on the balcony, sitting on the matching chairs Bokuto’s sisters bought for you when the two of you had first moved in. A mug of coffee or tea would be in your hands, the liquid looking as if it had long gone cold. You wouldn’t acknowledge Akaashi whenever he’d step outside to join you. Say nothing as he sits in the vacant seat beside you, staring only out into the blinking lights of the city. 

When you were this way, Akaashi knew better than to try and bother you to speak. Your mind was eons away, in a world where Akaashi had never been and would never get to see. So he settled himself to sit beside you silently, until you were ready to climb back down from wherever you wandered off to.   

But even those days became few and far in between. 

It was something that confused him, like he’d been following a trail of crumbs laid before him, yet had no idea where it would lead him to. 

That was, until he walked up to Study room 201 for the usual Tuesday evening session. On a normal day he would simply barge into the room without a thought as to who was already in there or if they were in the middle of anything important. But there was a tug in his chest that halted him in front of the narrow, rectangular window cut-out of the sliding door. He was still as he peeked through the glass, and something clicked so loudly in his brain, his eardrums nearly burst. 

Because Study Room 201 was already a mess of textbooks and papers, prohibited snacks and drinks littered the conference table, and Kuroo Tetsuro was sitting next to you. 

You were leaning over as you read something on his laptop screen, and Kuroo slightly leaned back to give you some room. Your eyes were roving over the screen quickly, faster than any normal person should be reading. Then you frowned at something, your finger pointing at certain spots as you explained his mistakes. 

It seemed like you were ripping into Kuroo’s essay or project or whatever it was he was having you read over, your mouth running off into a seemingly endless tangent of all the things he could have done differently. If it was Akaashi in that situation, his head would probably feel so hot from how irritating your voice surely would have sounded in his ears. He might have shoved you away altogether. 

Yet, there was Kuroo Tetsuro, sitting in the seat Akaashi had only ever seen one other person sit in, staring at you as he tried but failed desperately to hide the smile on his face. You turned just as Kuroo’s smile bubbled into a chuckle, and you smacked your pen so hard on his head, Akaashi was afraid he might start bleeding. 

Kuroo’s chuckle turned into complete laughter, loud and obnoxious and infectious, it was only a matter of seconds until you dissolved into a fit of giggles yourself. 

Neither of you paid him much attention when Akaashi finally decided to open the door. In fact, it seemed as if you hadn’t noticed him at all, despite nearly slamming the door in his haste to enter. Akaashi settled into the seat across from you, as he’s always done, and a small part of him wondered if Kuroo might move back into his usual seat beside him now that Akaashi has entered the picture.

He didn’t. He simply smiled at Akaashi and asked him if he’d like a turn to criticize his work. Of course, Akaashi agreed and thoroughly enjoyed tearing down Kuroo’s perfectly good thesis if only because it made both of you laugh. 

Akaashi felt incredibly stupid for not seeing it before, and now that he has, he doesn’t understand how he could have possibly missed it. He stared at the man beside you now, sneaking grapes onto your laptop to get you to eat and wordlessly walking down the hall to fill your water bottle and filling in the seat Akaashi never braved to fill, and the revelations pour over him like a waterfall, loud and rumbling and serene all at once. 

He’s glad it was Kuroo. 

It was a little painful, though. Not a heartbreak, nor a pang of jealousy, but there was an ache that took hold in his body all the same. And he hated that selfish part of him that was hurt – wishing it was him that could have helped you heal.

But it wasn’t him, and he’s glad it was Kuroo. 

Whatever sort of pain or shame or guilt that he was torturing himself with was quickly eased away by the sound of your muffled laughter through the apartment walls during late night phone calls, the color that was beginning to return to your cheeks, and the light that had finally returned in your eyes.

In those following months, you stopped locking yourself in your room, stopped losing yourself in the city lights on that cold, empty balcony. And more than once has Akaashi come home to find you and Kuroo splayed across the living room, either giggling over something playing on the TV screen with beer cans littered across his coffee table, or sitting beside each other in comfortable silence while you both worked or studied.

One way or another, Akaashi would get roped into whatever it was you were doing with Kuroo. And he’ll complain, berate you two for wasting his time on nonsense and tomfoolery, but it was those moments that provided him with a sharp clarity, like he finally has all the pieces he needed for this puzzle. 

Akaashi may have been just a man on the outside looking in, but the picture that Kuroo had built with you – for you – was more beautiful and warm than Akaashi had ever thought to imagine. And whether you realized it or not, you now went about your days with a permanent smile on your lips and a lightness in the air about you that Akaashi had not felt in years. 

It had filled him with something he didn’t even know he had been missing, as if his lungs were finally taking their first gulp of air after so long underwater. The brightness you started to exude felt as warm and refreshing as summer’s first rays of sun, and Akaashi finally lets himself relax. 

Because Kuroo – that son of a bitch, Akaashi could kiss him in the mouth – he had taken the pieces of you that were scattered across the dirty floor, and he’s put together every single shard until you were nearly whole again. He had breathed an entirely new life into you, a mosaic of all the things you thought you couldn’t handle, brought back to make you stronger. You were almost unrecognizable. 

But people don’t change so easily, and some habits are ingrained into your bones. Akaashi could already see the beginnings of it. The self-doubt, the fear, overthinking your every word and action. Often, Akaashi felt as if he could hear your thoughts from across the room, his throat constricting as they wrapped around him like a noose. 

He didn’t want things to be the same, he told himself. Things were going to be different this time. He’d said it like a mantra over and over again, and now was the time for him to put his money where his mouth was. 

And one day, Akaashi was in the kitchen making his usual cup of coffee, you came bouncing – no, literally, you were bouncing – out of your room with just about the goofiest smile he’d ever seen on your face, and it was all the push he needed to step over the line.

He allowed himself that bit of courage, something he’d spent years shoving to the back of his mind, smothered by his own hands.

“Excited for your date?”

“It’s not a date!”

“Would it be so bad if it was?I mean look at you, you’re smiling like an idiot.” 

For one, glorious, precious second, Akaashi thought that things would finally work out. The gears started spinning your head, and even though you glared at him, Akaashi could already see a sparkle in your eye, and a hint of smile you tried to hide.

“You know what, Keiji, I’m getting sick of you –”

And it only took three knocks for everything to come toppling down. 

The not-so-serendipitous entrance of Bokuto Koutaro was usually accepted with open arms, and an exasperated sigh that wasn’t actually exasperated but a little excited to see what he’s got planned for the day.

But that day, the sight of his streaked hair made Akaashi’s stomach drop to the floor, and hearing the way he spoke to you only made Akaashi see red. 

He almost didn’t register the slam of his front door, the blood roaring in his ears too loudly for him to hear your heated exchange. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel sorry for his best friend, pouting like a child whose favorite toy was just ripped from his hand. 

Akaashi knew, deep down somewhere in a dusty corner of his heart, that Bokuto didn’t mean any harm. He might have even thought he came here with the best of intentions, that maybe he was trying to be a good friend. And maybe that’s what irritates Akaashi even more, the complete lack of self-awareness, and the obliviousness to those around him – perfectly content with staying inside his own Bokuto-powered bubble. 

Irritated, yes. Still, Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to be truly vexed. Not when Bokuto looked just as confused and distraught. Akaashi didn't know what he was thinking, or perhaps he wasn’t even thinking at all, but he couldn’t stop himself. But the worst part of it was, he didn’t want to. Because you were finally letting yourself be happy, and he wasn’t going to let Bokuto ruin it. 

“She’s finally moving on. You shouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”

“Just leave it alone, Bokuto-san. Before anyone gets hurt.”

By the time he was finished, the flames of anger Akaashi felt just moments prior had completely died, and he was left with nothing but a taste of smoke and ash on his tongue. He spoke the words a lot more calmly than he felt, a familiar sense of sympathy creeping over his heart yet again.

Because the look on Bokuto’s face was one Akaashi had seen before, but never on him. A mix of shock and confusion, topped off with a hint of anguish and regret. It looked sad enough on you, but on Bokuto, it was heartbreaking.

So he truly didn’t know. Akaashi’s not sure if it made him feel better or worse. He just knew he was finished with this game, and although he couldn’t really understand the gravity of what he’d just done, he didn’t regret it. When Bokuto silently nodded and left his apartment, he felt only relief.

There was an eerie calm that settled in the wake of Bokuto’s departure. You came back from your date-not-date with Kuroo in infinitely better spirits than when you left, back to skipping around the apartment while humming a tune only you could hear, and the morning’s debacle was already long forgotten. 

Kuroo, unsurprisingly, became quite determined to attach himself to your hip, with a new sense of comfort and a different sort of tension that Akaashi didn’t feel like addressing. It seemed the encounter with Bokuto had added fuel to more than one fire, and if Kuroo was trying to hide his feelings before, he wasn’t bothering to do so now. Akaashi’s caught the way Kuroo looks at you more than once, and it’s even given him butterflies more than he cared to admit. 

Bokuto eventually apologized, and he’d even started bringing Hikari around more. She really was a sweet girl, clearly putting in the effort to get to know Bokuto’s friends. She even desperately tried to ignore Bokuto’s longing looks at a certain blossoming couple, and Akaashi wished he had the capacity to care just a little bit more about the poor girl Bokuto dragged into the tangled web of his heart. 

Alas, he was too busy preparing for the storm.

Akaashi had always been an overthinker. It’s in his nature, something inherent in him that he could never shake no matter how hard he tried. Or it could be the result of his younger days hiding behind his fear, maybe it was something he never actually got over. Akaashi doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows much of anything these days. 

His useless mind was only searching for ways he could have prevented this. If he pushed you about your feelings earlier, would you have ended up with Bokuto instead of Kuroo? Would it have been the two of you laughing and dancing, pouring honey in each others’ ear in a crowded room like no one was watching? 

If not for Akaashi, would Bokuto have ever even realized you were in love with him? Were it not for him, would it have eaten away at Bokuto’s very heart until he attacked his own best friend? Akaashi should have kept his mouth shut. If he did, then maybe you might have actually allowed yourself to enjoy being with Kuroo, to let him romance you in the way he’s been aching to do, to let yourself fall in the way you’ve been afraid to for so long. 

And if he did, then maybe he wouldn’t have found Bokuto’s white-knuckled fists gripping Kuroo’s shirt in the middle of a stunned crowd, drenched in sticky alcohol and hair in disarray while you were crying in the corner. Hikari wouldn’t have been sobbing in the back of a dirty taxi, fighting the bile rising in her throat from the betrayal of the one meant to love her most.

He wouldn’t have had to drag you home, too stunned into silence to fight him. He was thankful for that, because he knows that if you had seen the look on Kuroo’s face as everyone he loved left him soaked, eyes stinging, and alone… Akaashi would have deserved that punch you’d throw in his face. 

There were a plethora of things he wished he said, things he could have done. They played through his mind like an endless reel of maybes and what ifs and would haves over and over again as if determined to drive him insane.

He’s not sure what to do now. He’s not sure if he should even do anything. He was tired, he hadn't eaten in at least twenty seven hours, and when he looked in the mirror that morning, he cringed at the deep purple color that encircled his eyes. 

The coffee maker beeped loudly, and Akaashi mindlessly grabbed his mug from the cabinet. His eyes were unfocused, relying on his muscle memory to grab the oat milk creamer from the fridge and mixing in his preferred amount of sugar. 

The morning was calm, a stark contrast from the evening before, and Akaashi’s been awake for a lot longer than he’d care to admit. He stirred his spoon in circles, watching the whorls of milk blend into inky water. This was his fourth cup. Four times he’s brewed a fresh pot, hoping to have one ready for you once you step out of your room. Four times the coffee had turned cold, and he watched it swirl against the steel of his sink as he poured it down the drain. Four times he’s walked to the counter to brew a fresh pot again. 

He winced when he took a sip, coffee burning his tongue, like one last insult to his injuries. By now, he’s already used up more than half the bag of coffee beans you brought home from work just the other day. He hated being wasteful. He hated drinking more than one cup before he could even eat his breakfast. He hated waiting for you alone with nothing but the sugar granules littering his dining table to keep him company. 

He hated the silence in his apartment. He hated the 53 missed calls on his phone from Kuroo and Bokuto. He hated that he was the one who sent Bokuto into a downward spiral. He hated every single face that did nothing but gawked with their phones out while two men – who had never so much as raised their voices at each other  – looked like they were two seconds away from ripping each other's throat out.  

He hated everything.

But he would still do it all over again. Let the fire he had unknowingly started burn their slate clean. If it means peace, if it means freedom from the cage they built around themselves… then he’d do it all over again, for his friends. 

And once it grows cold, Akaashi will brew another pitcher of coffee. He will make himself another cup. 

And he will sit in this chair, and he will wait until he sees you walking out that door. 

The sun was nearing its peak when you finally woke up. 

You cursed yourself for forgetting to draw all your curtains last night, and you squinted against the harsh rays of sun now beating down on your face.

It was an effort to open your eyes. There was crust lining your waterline, stinging your lashes when you tried to flutter them open. Your lids still felt heavy and swollen, and you barely won the battle of keeping them open. 

Your head was throbbing, so loudly that it was the only thing you could hear. You dig into your temples with the heel of your palm, groaning as you positioned yourself to sit up. You run your hands along the rumpled sheets until your fingers hit something hard. You dig through a little more, closing your eyes and bracing yourself as you grab your phone. 

Dead. Only a black screen stared back, no matter how many times you pressed the buttons. You tossed the phone back on the mattress just as you flopped yourself back down, the both of you landing on the sheets like a useless brick.

You should probably charge the damn thing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb the morning’s peace just yet. You doubt you’d find another moment of it the second you get out of this bed. 

Instead, you bury your fingers into your own hair, twisting your body around until your face is buried in your pillow, and you fight the urge to scream into it, too worried that the extra strain might actually cause you to hurl your guts out.  

Not yet. 

You burrowed even deeper into your sheets, wrapping the blankets around yourself until you were nothing more than a cocoon of self-preservation. Because you weren’t ready to face it. The betrayal you were unknowingly the center of, the years of friendship that was splintered in a matter of seconds, the broken hearts of the people you cherished the most. You weren’t ready to face any of it. Not yet.

As if the cowardly admission was some sort of key, memories began to flood through wide open gates in your head, soaking you all over again with sticky alcohol and salty tears. You tried to push it back, tried to cover yourself, like holding an umbrella in a hurricane. But the waves of memory overpowered you, knocking you off your feet each time you remembered Kuroo’s wide-eyed, vacant look as he watched Akaashi haul you away. 

Kuroo. 

Tetsuro.

Even a mere whisper of his name still sends shocks through your nerves, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The thought of him consumed you so easily, so wholly, like he was a blanket of calm that smothered all your raging thoughts until there was only him. Everything about him made you so dizzy, light headed and out of breath.

Every time you hear his voice, so rich and creamy, it coats all over you like something luxurious on your skin. Forcing yourself to pretend that you’re not breathing in his scent whenever he’s near, pretend that cedar and smoke and warm amber don’t haunt your dreams – it was a tremendous effort on your part to keep yourself sane, to keep yourself from free-falling into the rabbit hole that was Kuroo Tetsuro. 

But last night… You could have dreamt all you wanted about what it would be like to have him look at you with shaky breaths and dilated pupils and ask if he could kiss you, and it still wouldn’t have amounted to anything close to actually having him in front of you. It made you want to laugh almost as much as it made you want to cry, because of course Kuroo Tetsuro could make reality surpass fantasy. 

You wished the memories could have stopped there, that your night ended with the only kiss that has ever made you feel like you were in the clouds.

But fate was almost as cruel as life. 

It was difficult to explain how it felt, for everything to finally click into place while also spiraling into confusion. 

You understood with painful clarity why Hikari hated you, why she acted like you were a pebble in her shoe, and looked at you as if your very existence was an eyesore. You remembered that fight with Bokuto, and the tension that never went away even after the two of you reconciled – all the times Bokuto’s mood would plummet at the mere mention Kuroo, each time you ignored the frustrated glances he threw towards the both of you, hoping you were simply imagining things.

Because what reason could Bokuto possibly have to act that way? You thought about it over and over, and could never come up with an adequate conclusion. 

Now, your willful ignorance has finally come to pay its retribution, a sort of cosmic joke that you were sure some powers above found absolutely hilarious – because Bokuto Kotaro was in love with you. In love. With you. Has been, apparently, for … you didn’t even want to think of how long, couldn’t comprehend the implication of his confession.

A confession that you vividly remember praying for, words that your heart has longed for and ached to hear. Cried for in the silent void of your bedroom, hoped for in your fractured soul, because for so long, you waited, even just for a sliver for a chance for Bokuto to actually see you as more than a friend, more than just the overbearing manager who followed him to college. 

It almost kills you to know that he was waiting for the same thing. 

For a moment, you envisioned it. The life you could have had with Bokuto – walking around campus tucked beneath his arm, registering for classes that fit each other’s schedule, wearing his jersey when you watch his games. Maybe you would have joined the team as a manager, and there wouldn’t have been a second you wouldn’t spend together. Bokuto probably wouldn’t have even waited for the first year to end before convincing you to move in with him. The apartment would have been small, but he wouldn’t ever miss a single dinner together. 

Every morning, you’d wake up to an empty bedroom, but by the time you prepared two steaming mugs of coffee, Bokuto would have already returned from his morning run. He’d kiss you and embrace you, and you’d get ready for the day together, leave your home together, and come home together.

Grief is peppered through every thought like weeds, mourning for the time lost and each memory that never happened. It would have been a beautiful life together. It would have been filled with love, laughter, and happiness so bright, just imagining it made your eyes burn. 

The smell of fresh coffee permeated through the musty, stale air of your bedroom. You could almost see the trail of the scent wafting through the open seams of your door, snaking through the smog until it wrapped around you like a warm embrace. It beckoned you like a familiar friend, so enticing that it actually spurred you to sit back up. 

Suddenly, you felt your stomach grumble and the dryness in your mouth felt like ash, as if the smell of arabica beans was that first fallen domino that had all your issues tumbling into each other. You ignored the rush of nausea churning in your stomach that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol you drank last night, and swung your legs over the side of your bed, feet absently shuffling against the wooden floor until they found your slippers. 

You stifled a groan as you stood, and dragged your feet across the room slowly. You snatched the thin robe you kept hung over your computer chair, and wrapped it tightly around your body, taking a deep breath as you closed your fingers around the door knob and twisted it open. 

You nearly choked on the wave of aroma that rushed at you so fast, you might have thought you were stepping into an actual roastery instead of your own living room. You half expected to see Akaashi standing over a heated pan, vigorously stirring beans until they turned brown – or however the hell one would roast coffee, you seriously had no idea. 

Instead, you found him standing in front of the coffee maker you bought for him two Christmases ago, hands on his hips and foot tapping on the floor. The machine was bubbling and hissing as the coffee dripped slowly into the pot, and the counter was an abhorrent mess that you’ve quite literally never seen Akaashi make in the entire time you’ve lived with him. 

“Did you open up some sort of… cafe in our apartment that I wasn’t aware of,” You tried to keep your voice light and playful, but the words scratched at your throat, and they came out sounding tired and rough.

Akaashi could have broken his neck with the speed he turned around, shooting an arm out to catch himself on the counter when his momentum threatened to hurtle his body too far. He regarded you with wide, tired eyes, coffee staining his shirt in four different places, and you had a strange feeling that if you reached up and tried to run your fingers through his hair, you would find a bird’s egg nestled somewhere deep within. He looked – and you were putting this nicely – like absolute shit. 

You tried to smile, and his gaze immediately softened, lips coming together into a tight line. And you regretted any previous thoughts you might have had about the malnourished vibe he was putting down., because the pathetic way he looked at you definitely said that you looked about a million times worse. 

“I thought I’d give it a try,” he said softly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter, “It can’t be that hard, can it? Especially with an experienced barista in the vicinity.”

You clicked your tongue, and gave Akaashi a mocking glare, “You wouldn’t be able to afford my skills and services.”

Akaashi brought a finger up to his lip in faux-thought, and you felt your heart flutter when he opened his arms wide, “I can pay with warm, comforting, and gentle embraces?”

You shook your head, and your slippers slapped against the wooden floor as you hurriedly made your way across the room and crashed into Akaashi’s arms.

“Can’t you be normal and just call it a hug?” Your voice was muffled against his chest, “Who the hell calls it an embrace these days?”

He pulled you against him even tighter, “Literary geniuses, that’s who.”

A chuckle softly escaped from your lips and vibrated against Akaashi’s chest, and it felt like a tether had been snapped. Even more giggles tumbled out, and the fact that Akaashi was not laughing somehow made it even more funnier – made what funnier, you actually had no idea, though at this point you could hear how unhinged your laughter actually sounded. But you couldn’t hold it back, and you laughed until your belly ached, and tears formed on the corners of your eyes. 

You laughed until the laughter felt like acid burning up your throat, and the tightness of it made it difficult to breathe. The tears that pooled in your eyes now flowed freely down your cheeks, and there was no stopping it then, not when you choked out a sob, clutched at the fabric of Akaashi’s shirt and cried. While Akaashi rested one hand on the back of your head, and stroked small circles around your back with the other, you wept and you cried. Cried and cried and cried. 

Whatever restraint you’d been keeping against your heart was undone by the strength of Akaashi’s arms around you, and knowing that he was there to hold you together… it was enough to have you falling apart.

You don’t know how long the two of you stood in that kitchen for. It could have been a few minutes. It could have been a few hours. Akaashi didn’t falter, didn’t move a single inch. Through each shuddering sob, every heaving gasp for air, Akaashi had stayed. He waited until the shaking subsided, and your breathing evened out, and there was not a single tear left to cry. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you peeled yourself away from his embrace, wiping your entire face with the sleeve of your robe. You backed another step, and Akaashi met your swollen, red eyes with his own sunken, tired ones. He tried to smile at you, and tried extremely hard to seem like he wasn’t uncomfortable in his soaked shirt.

“Go change out of that thing,” you said by way of apology, cringing at the mess you’d left behind, “Please.”

For a second, you thought Akaashi might have argued with you. But then his eyes switched from you to the hallway then back again, before he nodded and darted to the direction of his bedroom. You breathed out a laugh and walked to the counter, grabbing a towel from beside the sink and wiping away the coffee grounds that dirtied your usually-immaculate kitchen. 

You were sweeping up the stray flecks that littered the floor when Akaashi came barrelling back into the kitchen. Before he said a single word, he snatched the broom violently from your hand.

“Hey, I was –”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, not when Akaashi practically shoves you into a seat at the dining table. 

“Stay,” he pointed a finger at you, and you quickly swallowed back the snarky comment you were prepared to throw out. Your eyes just silently followed Akaashi as he fussed around the kitchen, mopping the rest of the floor and shaking his head at you when he realized you’d already cleaned the counters. 

He grabbed your favorite mug – drying on the dish rack like it had just been washed after use – then turned to make you a cup of coffee. But when he touched the top of his fingers to the glass body of the pitcher, he frowned. Deeply. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“The coffee got cold again,” he grumbled, making you shoot out of your seat and scramble towards him when he yanked the decanter off the hot plate and headed to the sink.

“Stop!” you practically screeched, just barely making it in time to grip his wrist before he could fully pour the contents down the drain. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Akaashi just stared. “It’s cold now.”

“So?!” you looked at him like the roles have now been completely reversed, “We can just microwave it or something. You don’t need to throw the whole thing out.” You tried to pry the pitcher out of Akaashi’s hand, but he clutched on tightly.

“I wanted you to have fresh coffee,” he said simply, and you gaped. You looked at him for a second longer before your eyes flick back to the counter that you just cleaned up, and realization washed over you like a gentle shower. 

“Did you –” you paused for a second, unsure of how you were going to deal with this situation, “Have you been making a new pot of coffee each time it went cold?” 

Akaashi opened his mouth as if to speak, but quickly clamped his lips down to press them into a thin line. You managed to grab the pitcher from Akaashi with no resistance, and rushed to place it back into its proper place on the machine. In your peripherals, you could see a crinkled bag, folded in half and tucked in a corner behind the coffee maker. 

“Is that…” you mumbled to yourself before quickly snatching the nearly empty bag from its hiding place, “Keiji!”

He winced slightly when you presented him with the evidence, coffee beans flying astray when you shake the bag in Akaashi’s face.

“I just got this bag, Keiji!” you groaned, lamenting the gallons of your favorite roast undoubtedly swirling through the drainpipes of Tokyo by now. You peeked into the bag, frowning when you saw that only about a fourth of the bag had been saved, “Now I have to wait until next month for the cafe to give me a free one.”

“I wanted you to have –”

“Fresh coffee. I got it,”  you sighed, placing two hands on each of Akaashi’s shoulders. Again, he showed no resistance when  you pushed him backwards and sat him on your empty chair. He opened his mouth to argue when you grabbed two mugs and poured in the cold coffee, but the glare you shot him was enough to make him shut it. You ignored his searing gaze as it trailed after your every movement, ignored it burning holes in your back while you microwaved the two mugs of coffee, ignored the burn in your throat at the pathetic way he watched you place one mug in front of him, and held the other as you took the empty seat across from him.

You gestured silently to the mug of coffee.

“Drink,” you ordered, and the word made Akaashi instantly grab the handle, “There’s only room for one mental breakdown in this apartment at a time. And I call dibs for today, okay?”

Akaashi couldn’t stop the laughter that broke free, and you couldn’t help but smile at the exasperated way he shook his head. When the two of you lifted your mugs, your eyes met for just a moment, and the smile you shared with your best friend might have been enough to heal your heart. 

Then, you took a sip of the coffee, and the moment the dark liquid hit your tongue, you had to fight the cringe, and pretend that the way he burnt this batch didn’t break your heart all over again.

“That’s…” you begin, searching for the words. You coughed instead of finishing your sentence.

Akaashi simply sighed. He reached a hand in his pocket, and pulled out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching him slowly slide his fingers up and down the screen. 

He gives you a pointed look. “What’s it look like? I’m getting breakfast delivered.”

The sun looked just about ready to set by the time you and Akaashi decided to settle down. Empty take out boxes were piled in the proper compartments of the trash bin, and neither of you have bothered to clean up the crumbs all over the table. 

Breakfast had passed by silently, the both of you just content to be in each other’s presence, still sniffling as you shoved entire forkfuls of souffle pancakes from your favorite bakery. You shrieked with delight when you recognized the logo on the bag Akaashi retrieved from the delivery man. You didn’t even scold him for the insane delivery fee he probably had to pay for them to bring it all the way here. 

You just crushed him in a tight hug and accepted his kindness with a kiss on the cheek. He sighed in the way you imagined an older brother would about his annoying little sister, despite you being an entire year older. It made you chuckle, especially when he let you break his very strict “no eating in the living room” rule. 

If Akaashi had any questions or concerns about the events that transpired last night, he mercifully kept them all to himself. After breakfast, he dug out the kotatsu blanket from the storage closet, and – after screeching to Akaashi that he was banned from making any beverages for at least a month – you brewed some of his favorite green tea.

You laid under that kotatsu with Akaashi for hours, sipping on tea that had long turned lukewarm, talking about things that were of neither importance or relevance. You wasted away the entire day, it seemed, if the setting sun and ombre skies out the windows were of any indication. 

Akaashi sat across from you, his back leaning against the foot of the couch. The kotatsu blanket reached up to his waist, and his head lolled lazily to the side as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. You’d long thrown propriety out the window, though it never is in the room when you’re with Akaashi. You managed to snuggle yourself completely under the kotatsu table, the blanket skirt covering your body while using your seat cushion as a pillow. 

Akaashi had gone through tremendous effort to make this day feel as casual as last week’s Sunday morning. You had a niggling feeling that if you let him, then Akaashi would be very content in keeping you inside this bubble of safety and comfort that he’s curated specifically for you. He’d keep the problems that were waiting past these four walls at bay for as long as he possibly could. This, you knew without a shred of doubt. 

It was a kindness that you held closely to your heart. One that you knew was the type of kindness that didn’t boast, but wrapped itself around you gently and held you against its chest. The longer you looked at Akaashi, rubbing his finger against his nose and eyes glued to the screen, the more your heart swelled with that affection he generously poured into your cup. 

And you knew that because he’s loved you enough to create this bubble, you had to love him enough to pop yourself both out of it. 

“Keiji,” your voice felt hoarse from the silence, the words scratching at your throat, “Was I really that blind?”

Akaashi stilled almost imperceptibly, if you hadn’t known him for years, you probably would have missed it. He clicks the button on the side of his phone, and he gently places the black device on the table. He shuffles to move his seat cushion from beneath him and tosses it to the side, settling himself beneath the blanket before laying down to face you. 

“You weren’t blind, y/n.”

He said it so gently, probably worried that if he spoke any louder, then you would shatter. It softens your heart as much as it sends a spike of irritation through you.

“Dumb, then? Oblivious? Stupid? Naive? Either way you spin it, it still comes down to my faults, my…” your voice cracks, the traitorous thing, and you stopped to clear your throat, “What word would you use, then, Keiji?”

“Young. Afraid. Hurt,” He says with a lot more force and clarity than you expected, each word striking directly into your heart, “A whole lot of other words before stupid, actually. An entire dictionary’s worth.”

You wanted to wipe that look off his face, really. Eyes misting his usual blue to a foggy gray, and failing to stop his wretched mouth from quivering. How many more people in your life were you going to hurt? You felt pathetic.

You stay silent for a moment before starting, “Bokuto… he must have also been in a lot of pain,” you sighed, turning to supine and training your eyes to the popcorned ceiling, “Everything’s so… fucked up. And it’s all because of me and my stupid ignorance and –”

“Please, stop saying that,” Akaashi groaned loudly, balling a fist into his own hair. 

Exasperation floods through you like a tidal wave, it crashes through you viciously and your body shoots itself up into a sitting position before you could even think. You couldn’t hold back the glare at Akaashi before asking him with a bite, “Well, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi answers with a growl, maneuvering himself up to face you, his fists landing helplessly on the table, “but please, stop saying stuff like that, not when–” Akaashi sighed, bring two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I knew about everything for… a long time.”

You shrugged carelessly as you replied, “Well, yeah. I know I never actually told you, but I thought you figured it out after… the equipment room incident.”

Akaashi pursed his lips together. “Oh, I did. But I wasn’t talking about just you.”

Your eyebrows lifted, opting to stay silent. Akaashi nibbled at his bottom lip in hesitancy, allowing him the time to process through whatever he clearly wanted to say. You brace yourself when you see him taking a slow, deep breath.

“With you, it was… so fucking obvious. And it wasn’t just because you followed him around, or laughed obnoxiously loud at his dumb jokes. If anybody looked at you for longer than five seconds, they’d see it on your face – clear as day. You looked at him like… I don’t know. Like he made all the flowers bloom, or painted the sunset with your favorite colors or something poetic like that.”

“That sounded pretty poetic to me,” you laugh, though it sounded hollow and despondent in its attempt to hide the gut punch Akaashi’s words delivered. Akaashi smiled ruefully, but he continued. 

“My point is – you never had to tell me. I knew it. You knew it. We all knew it. Your feelings were never the big secret you thought it was. Bokuto might have been the only person in this world that never picked up on it. And actually, there was a point in time when I genuinely thought he was ignoring them on purpose. Fuck, maybe he did. I never really figured it out. I don’t really think he ever did either. Because with Bokuto…”

Akaashi took the deep breath you’ve been holding the entire time he spoke, and he looked directly at you this time as he spoke.

“I knew he loved you. He loved you, maybe a bit more than he knew what to do with. God, if you only saw how he’d glare at any guy that tried to even look at you. They were ridiculous – hilariously vicious. He always did it behind your back, but it was about as subtle as a flashing neon sign. I don’t know how you never caught him.You followed him around, sure, but he made sure he kept you by his side, never letting you stray too far from him. Because if you weren’t next to him, then he was… lost. It’s stupid but– yeah, I think I knew he loved you, even before he knew it himself. And I could have told him. Should have told him. It would have been easy, quick – ‘Bokuto, Y/N is in love with you’. And he would have gone running. Well, nevermind. It might have taken him a couple days, but when it hit him… I don’t think anything in the world could have stopped him.”

Silver streaks on Akaashi’s face matched the warm tears that trickled down your own, and you tried to catch his gaze but at this point, he stared fixedly down at his lap. 

“Keiji…” you called out to him, somehow wrangling his name through the tightness of your throat, because you need him to look at you. Needed him to see that you didn’t blame him, would never even think to. But he doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he barrels on. 

“But I didn’t. Obviously. I kept my mouth shut, and just watched you two bumble around like idiots. It was, believe it or not, torturous for me. For the longest time, I kept my nose out of your business, because I know what it’s like to… Ahh,” He bows his head, and covers his eyes with the palm of his hand. It took a moment before he wiped his hand away and continued, “I did try once, though. With you. And I felt so completely iced out afterwards, I remembered exactly why I kept out of it for so long.”

He must have sensed the rebuttal at the tip of your tongue, but he interrupts you before you could even start.

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty. I’m telling you this because… I was afraid too. I was scared that if I had kept pushing, then you would have pulled away from me completely. I was scared that Bokuto would think I was overstepping my boundaries. I was scared that it would work out, and the two of you would phase me out of your lives. I was scared it wouldn’t work out, and everything would be…”

His voice trailed off, so you softly finished for him, “Fucked up?”

He finally, finally looked at you then. You reached across the table and held his hand in yours. You felt him stiffen for a second before turning his hand and curling his own fingers around yours. A giggle of relief spills from your lips, and it elicits a chuckle from Akaashi, and the sound blooms within you.

“You guys are my best friends,” Akaashi said, his grip on you tightening just a fraction, “And I saw what you were putting each other through. I was watching it all happen in front of my own eyes. I should have done something more, right? If I had tried harder with you, if I just talked to Bokuto, if I bothered even just a little bit more to get over my shit and helped my friends…  Then this never would have happened. And Kuroo… God, Kuroo. He didn’t need me to do a damn thing, he just loved you but still I managed to fuck things up for him and –”

“Shut up!”

Akaashi started a little at your sudden outburst, but it achieved the desired effect. He blinked at you once, then twice. You almost felt a twinge of guilt at your lack of patience, considering all that Akaashi was beginning to unpack in front of you. But weren’t you the one that called dibs on the mental breakdown today? If he thought you were just going to sit there and listen to his blasphemy, then he’s sorely mistaken.

“Don’t you even try to blame any of it on yourself, Keiji,” you spat out, irritated, “How could you even say something so convoluted? How could you even think such a –”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Akaashi interrupts you fervently, as if desperate to get you to listen to him, “I let my fears hold me back, instead of facing it for the people that mattered to me. I’m just a coward.”

“No, Keiji. You’re not a coward. You…” You let out a heavy breath, all the sharpness in your tone now softening at Akaashi’s deep set frown, “Do you even have any idea how much you saved me? Even though things were… unspoken between us, I knew you understood me. Without me ever having to say a single word, you understood me. And you never judged me or tried to tell me I was wrong. You just… you just held my hand. No matter what happened, good or bad, if I looked to my side, I knew I would see you there. Do you think you’re the only person that notices the little things? I felt your support, and I felt your love. Even when you didn’t say it out loud.”

“But–”

“No more buts, I really don’t want to hear it. You weren’t the one responsible for us,” your eyes were hard, providing no room for arguments, “You were just a kid. What could you have even done? You saw how stubborn I was being! Do you really think I would have listened? You were young, and afraid, and didn’t know any –”

Too late. The words flew out of your mouth quickly, you didn’t even think twice about it. Your guard was down, and you knew that was the most dangerous thing around Akaashi Keiji. Because too slowly did you realize the trap he laid out in front of you. And as the words slipped past your lips, you realized you were already too late. Akaashi was already looking at you with that smug grin.

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“No, it’s not,” He chuckled at you as if you weren’t staring daggers at his soul right now, “But if you can afford me that much grace, then I think you owe the same to yourself. Everyone makes mistakes. You won’t meet a single person that doesn’t have any regrets. But you can’t let those feelings define you. Only improve you. I know you’re feeling… a lot of shit right now that I probably can’t even begin to process. But it’s what you do with those feelings that matter.” He propped an elbow on the table, and rested his chin in the palm of his halls. “Are you gonna let it keep you down?”

You felt a little stunned, and though Akaashi’s words were simple, you could feel them find their mark. Hot tears pricked at the corner of your eyes yet again, and you didn’t look away from Akaashi as you let them fall. Still, you crossed your arms indignantly and pouted. “I can’t help but feel like I fell for some dirty trick.”

Akaashi laughed this time, waving his hand to beckon you closer to him. You begrudgingly moved from your spot, ignoring the ache in all your joints from your lack of movement, and crawled to sit beside Akaashi. He lifted the kotatsu skirt for you to settle under before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Dirty trick or not, as long as it gets the point across.”

“I understand, Keiji. I do, but still,” you sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “It’s difficult not to feel foolish.”

“I know,” Akaashi said as he laid his cheek against your crown, “I know. Fools in love, right?”

You didn’t know what to say, so you chose not to say anything. The lull in conversation allowed you the time to process his words, closing your eyes to feel everything you’d been avoiding the entire day. With a deep inhale, and a slow exhale, you silently search for the strength to let it all go. 

A buzz on the table catches your attention. Akaashi makes a point to ignore the notification, even more so when it buzzes again. 

The sight of his phone only served to remind you of your own, sitting dead and silent somewhere in the corner of your room for the entire day, of the calls that went straight to voicemail, of the messages that are unanswered – of the two men on the other side of line, waiting to see which way their world is about turn. 

“Have you heard from…” 

Akaashi lets out a snort through his nose. “Oh, yes, I have. I’m probably dead for ignoring all the calls and texts. But I needed to make sure you were alright before I answered anything.”

You chuckle, moving out of Akaashi’s one-armed embrace and sitting up to face him fully. “I love you, Keiji. I’d pick you if you were in love with me too, you know. What do you say? Wanna throw a towel in the ring?”

Akaashi laughed, loud and brash and genuine, and for the first time that day, you actually believed that everything will be alright. “I love you too, y/n. But I’d rather die.”

You nudged him hard with your elbow before standing up, leaving Akaashi to rub the sore spot while you stretched out your sore limbs. “I guess it’s time to stop hiding now, right?”

“Yeah…” Akaashi trails off, and you wait for him to ask the question you could see had been brewing in his mind for hours, “What are you gonna do?”

The question shoots a pang of loneliness through you. Because no matter what decision you make, everything will change. Your friendships will not walk away unscathed, and there will never be going back to the way things were. This was irrefutable, and that thought alone should terrify you, should make you want to scramble back on your knees and beg the gods to turn back time. Yet, it doesn’t. 

No, instead you’re filled with a sense of clarity that you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before. It pained you to know that you’ll hurt the people that matter to you the most, but not as much as it would pain you to know that you weren’t being true to yourself. 

It was time for you to choose your own happiness.

“Nothing’s changed for me, Keiji. I’ve always known what I was gonna do. Whether this truth came out or stayed hidden forever… my answer is going to be the same.” You smiled sadly as you spoke to Akaashi, and he offered nothing but an understanding nod, “From now on, for me, it’s always going to be him.”

✧: @kawaii-angelanne @boosyboo9206 @theglitterypages @rntrsuna @vinsmouke @chi-anpan @jinadamsel @kowalsqq @arcorjoan @galaxyfloater3

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#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x female reader #bokuto x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq kuroo #hq bokuto #kuroo fic #bokuto fic #akaashi keiji #kuroo tetsuro #bokuto kotaro #bokuto x you

[erabu-san]

IDK if someone want to read my Fremillei Brainrot but... here.

FREMILLEI TALKING, watching landscape ( ANGST A BIT (dont worry it ends well) it is not a fanfic bcuz lol i am so bad at writing (if it is not in french)

**CW : self depreciation**

**SLIGHT SPOIL : FREMINET BACKSTORY**

FORGIVE MY POOR ENGLISH BYEEE

Freminet suddenly being pessimist about himself, saying how he can only bring disappointment

"Don't say that !"

Collei shouting a bit fierce, which made Freminet jumping a bit

"You are also have your own strenght-"

He already heard those speech from his big sister but... it sounded different from Collei's mouth

"Look ! You can repare machine, you create toys... that's amazing ! Not everyone can do that ! In Sumeru, we could hire you in Kshahrewar Darshan... Freminet, you are amazing ! You can also diving, fishing..."

Freminet didn't know what to say, he is always gloomy.. "I am sorry Collei... you are just- amazing... compared to me I-"

"Please don't say that.."

Collei looks down.

Freminet suddenly felt guilty

"I am also like you, Freminet" her voice trembling

The young man was perplexed, but too scared to offense, he stayed in silent and just listen

"I feel terrible toward myself. Look, I am slow-learning, it still hard for me to read and write. I made a lot of mistake, I felt miserable... I am so scared to fail, I am so anxious when it comes people expectation... and my dark past growing back, my mind becomes weak and it is overwhelming... and sometime I can't resist them.. it hurts everywhere... it is like..." she stopped. She looked at the sky, trying to not cry. And after her pause, she turned her face to Freminet, with a smile but a broken voice

"It is like I am drowning."

Oh. Those words... that's exactly how he felt too. Those words resonated in him.

"I.. I stopped to trust people ! I hated my mother for giving me up. I hated everyone. But more than hating everyone, I hated myself..."

Freminet couldn't help to think about his mother.. when he didn't know the truth, did he hate her ? Did he hate the orphenage before "Father" took it..? Now he mature a bit, the only person he hate is... himself.

By this thought, he clenched his fist.

Collei took a deep breath and shouted

"BUT LIFE KEEPS GOING"

Freminet startled for a second time

"I met friends... family ! Who are dear to me. They give me their hands. They helped me. They are so patient with me. They love me. I can tell how genuine are their feelings...! And I am grateful to them. I love them too ! To repay them... I decided to become the best person I can be..! Being gloomy won't help me in this goal."

She looked in Freminet's eyes, with a determination stares. It was hard for him to be removed from her gazes.

"So yes, Freminet ! You are also amazing on your own way ! Please believe in you, at least for those you wish to protect !

You also have people you deeply care, right ?"

"Y..yes..."

Collei was silent, it looks like she wished him to continue.

Freminet took Pers in his hands stared his blue eyes.

"When I was young, I fantasized of.. just being emotionless. But, the more I grew up, the more I discovered I was hypersensitive.. it is one of my big weakness."

He did a pause, looking at Pers, deep in his thought.

"The orphenage is my home, and every children was considered like my family but... it felt more like we are just gears to make a big machine functionning. I didn't mind it, at least, I was useful. Everytime I felt lonely, I only have Pers with me."

He wanted to cry. The number of time "Father" scolded him, but he couldn't cry because "Father" hate those who cry.

Collei, was still listening, with an empathic look, as she understood what he was feeling.

"But...! I met Lyney and Lynette and.. even if they were inseparable, Lyney always called me little brother.. Lynette always console me ! In this big family, Lyney and Lynette are my genuine companions, and I can claim it ! And now I also met traveler, and Paimon.. ! I-..."

Ah, this is bad, he wanted to cry so much.

Collei encouraging him, tears in her eyes.

Freminet would usually ran away and go deep underwater, in his safe place, to cry all his heart.. only Romaritime flowers as witness.

But, he bursted to tear, couldn't keep all this feeling for himself anymore.

"I DEEPLY LOVE THEM..!"

Collei smiling, while a tear falling on her cheek

"..yes !"

They both usually alone when they started to feel overwhelmed. But this time, flowers, clouds, and them together were their companions.

////

AFTER A WHILE THEY STOP SOBBING

they are both pretty embarassed but they laughed

This is the first time they both cry with someone else, and.. that's a weird feeling !

#talk #idk what to tag huh #fremillei #I JUST READ FREMINET'S BACKSTORY AND MY BRAIN START TO BRAINROT #haha i would be surprised if someone really read all of this 🫣🫣 #but gosh... as someone who also suffered from depression but is now healed (in some way) #they are both super important for me 😭 #freminet needs to know the warm of friendship so he could accept to have therapy #two kids being sad but one is doing their best to heal and the other one is one his way to accept healing #tw : self depreciation

[hee0soo]

Little green eyed monster

Park Seonghwa x female!reader

Summary: Studying with your boyfriend does not have a happy ending

Disclaimer: Every time i read something jealousy related it's mostly about the boys being jealous. And i am here to fix that :)

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Your boyfriend was handsome and nobody could deny that!

You knew that, your shared friends knew that and sadly so did the girls at SNU!

They knew about your relationship and you knew that they weren’t happy about it. Why would the campus sweetheart go out with someone as normal as you?

Not that you weren´t beautiful in your own way but compared to Seonghwa they thought you were just too plain looking.

Seonghwa himself did not think like that. It always made him sad when he heard students talk about you in that manner and made it his mission to prove to you that you were indeed the most beautiful person to him!

It usually wasn’t a problem since most of them still were respectfull and kept their distance, but sometimes one or two girls grew courages! Thinking that he would actually like to spend time with them instead of you!

You couldn’t fault them for crushing on him, you really couldn´t.

Seonghwa wasn’t just handsome! He was one of the sweetest, kindest and most intelligent human beings you ever had the pleasure of knowing!

The problem was that your boyfriend sometimes was a bit too sweet. He didn’t want to outright reject or hurt them; instead he tried to let them down gently.

Something you loved about him became in this case something you loathed. While his intentions were good, they often times were perceived as flirting and willingness to talk to the girls.

Which brings us to the situation you currently found yourself in?

The two of you were sitting in the University’s library. You were studying for an upcoming exam you had while Seonghwa was sitting next to you, working on an essay his professor had given his students.

“Can you remind me why I chose to study y/m again?” you groaned, furrowing your eyebrows in frustration.

Seonghwa lifted his head from his essay to look at you. Fondly, he rolled his eyes and took your hand that was still holding the highlighter you were working with while caressing it with his thumb.

“Because you love it and want to get a job you actually like after university!”

His brown eyes shined brightly at your hunched over figure, making you squirm in your seat. The way he looked at you in that moment made your heart flutter.

Sighing, you laid your head down on the table.

The two of you had been sitting her for almost the entire day and it seemed that it was slowly getting to your head.

Seonghwa was still looking at you, trying to figure out what exactly you were so frustrated over.

“Why don´t you take a break jagi-ya? Just for a minute so your pretty little head can process what you know and read already. You have been at this for almost the entire afternoon. Get a snack and then come back here okay?”

Pulling your hand back, you dropped the highlighter and ran your fingers through your hair.

He was right.

Your brain was over stimulated by facts and your sight grew fuzzier by the second. Making it hard to read what was written on the study cards you had prepared!

Rubbing your eyes, you got up. Planning to go to the vending machine to get a quick snack and some water for the two of you!

You had emptied yours a while ago and without having to ask, Seonghwa had pushed his own bottle into your hands.

“Do you want a snack? I´m going to the vending machine!”

Seonghwa shook his head. Indicating that he didn´t want anything right now.

You rummaged through your bag to find your wallet. Silently, your boyfriend took his own and pushed it towards you.

He could see the way you wanted to protest, fully capable of paying for your own snacks, but he shot it down with one pleading look.

It made him feel good, knowing that he could provide for you in such small ways, knowing that you were a very independent person.

You made your way outside to get a quick bath room break before making your way to the vending machine.

Deciding to still get the boy you loved at least a pack of chips, you knew he liked, you bought a pack of sour gummy worms for yourself 2 water bottles and an energy drink for you to share!

Walking back you took your time, not particularly excited to get back to studying.

What you saw when you reentered the library however made your blood start boiling!

Ji-Hye and her entourage were standing around the table you had been sitting. Chatting with your boyfriend! The girl was the bane of your existence if you were being honest! She always made it her point to show you how much she disliked you and how much she liked Seonghwa!  

There wasn´t one week where she didn´t make some sort of comment to you about literally anything. Be it your body, your face, the clothes you were wearing or your relationship! You name it and she had probably already commented on it.

What ticked you of was the way she thought it was a good idea to flirt with him, knowing quite well that he wasn´t available.

Seonghwa had nicely told her to bugger of a few times already but Ji-Hye didn´t want to get the hint!

Seeing them talk so carefree right now made your chest feel tight! You weren´t an insecure person but even you had to admit that the together looked stunning.

Ji-Hyes giggle could be heard where you were standing. Your boyfriend only nodding along to what she was saying but otherwise not reacting much before answering her light heartedly!

Your face felt hot and your chest was tight. Gulping down the lump forming in your throat you tightly held onto the snacks you had bought.

Walking over to the group surrounding him, you decided you had seen enough!

You had watched them for some minutes and when it seemed that the conversation wouldn´t end you decided enough was enough!

Ji-Hye looked at you. Her face was very unimpressed but you only gave her the cold shoulder. Instead you looked at Seonghwa, handing him his wallet, the water you got him and the small pack of chips before starting to pack your stuff back into your bag!

“I´m sorry baby but I have to leave now! I forgot that I made plans with Jennie to hang out today and I’m already a bit late!”

In reality, your roommate and you didn´t have plans for the day. The older girl probably wasn´t even at the dorm but hanging out with her girlfriend Lisa!

Seonghwa looked confused, still sitting on his place but ultimately let you go, but not before pulling you towards him to press a soft kiss to your lips!

Ji-Hye rolled her eyes at the display of affection.

“Don´t you have someone else to bother?” you hissed at her before fleeing the scene.

You could hear Seonghwa excuse himself and then you were too far away for you to hear more.

----------

The scene in the library had made you sick and you had cried yourself to sleep that night, tightly wrapped in your fuzzy blanket with Jennie cooing gently at you.

The next day you didn´t go to class. It was irrational and you knew that but you didn´t want to see neither Ji-Hye nor Seonghwa! The other girl had probably used the chance to strike up yet another conversation with him.

It made your stomach churn just thinking about it!

The text you got from him that morning when you didn´t appear was sweet and made you want to cry again after having dried the ones from the night before.

Where are you? Are you okay? Send 9:34 a.m

Jagi-ya? I´m worried! Do you want me to come over? Send 9:45 a.m

Hey baby, no it´s fine. Just having a stomach bug and I don´t want to pass it onto you! I´ll text you later. Send 9:48 a.m

Oh no! Is my yeobo feeling sick? Are you sure you don´t want me to come over? Send 9:49 a.m

No it´s fine 9:50 a.m

I´ll send Woo-ah with some soup over! He doesn´t have class until later! Pls feel better soon! Send 9:51 a.m read

You buried yourself back into your blanket, trying to hide from the world and the fact that Wooyoung and San were going to come over.

Seonghwa hadn´t mentioned the latter but you knew that where Wooyoung was going, San wasn´t that far behind and the other way around!

There was silent, unspoken connection between the two but everyone in your friend group suspected that they were at the very least fucking each other! If not secretly dating!

An hour later there was a knock on the door.

Groaning you left your bed. Still wrapped in your blanket you opened the door and like you had predicted Wooyoung and San were standing there.

“You do not look that sick to me Sunshine! Want to tell us what´s wrong? Hyung wasn´t exactly clear what was going on!”

The two boys let themselves in and Wooyoung put the container with food on the counter of your very small kitchen isle.

San dropped himself onto your bed and wrapped his arms around your giant plush teddy Seonghwa had gotten you last White day.

“Ji-Hye!”

San rolled his eyes at hearing the other girl’s name. He himself had multiple run ins with the girl and none of them were pleasant. How Seonghwa didn´t snap at her every time she came onto him, the boy couldn´t understand! Especially since he knew how annoyed he was by her constant flirting!

You explained to them what happened the day before and they understood where you were coming from.

That you were jealous wasn´t something you could deny. Even though you didn´t like it. The feeling was awful and all you wanted was to replace the blanket with Seonghwas arms!

Unfortunately you had your pride and your pride was hurt!

After consoling you for a while, the two left again.

It had been almost an entire week of trying to avoid your boyfriend. It was hard since you shared some of your classes but you managed to sneak away in the mass of students!

On day 6 he finally managed to pin you down. He had waited in front of the girl’s rest room until you came out before taking your hand gently and leading you to an empty classroom.

“Why aren´t you talking to me?”

He looked at you sadly and you had to avert your eyes, already feeling bad enough for avoiding him.

You didn´t need to see the crestfallen face of his to add to your guilt.

“If you want talk to someone then why aren’t you talking to Ji-Hye? You seemed to have enjoyed your little conversation in the libratory last week!”

Seonghwa knew immediately where the wind was blowing from.

He also knew that you didn´t want to hurt him with your words but the boy couldn´t deny that his heart broke at the way you wouldn´t look at him!

This week was hell for him! Not just that you felt the need to apparently hide your feelings from him but the fact that Ji-hye truly didn´t seem to understand that he wanted nothing to do with her.

Seonghwa always tried to be nice about the rejections but 2 days ago he finally snapped.

The girl had looked shocked at first before the water works started and she started acting like she was the victim! Everyone who knew her also knew that it wasn’t the case but if it made her feel better about herself he would gladly accept it!

He just hopped that the topic was now finally over…

But now he had something else on his mind. His girlfriend, who seemed to be slightly more upset this time then all the other times she had witnessed a scene like the day they were studying.

The boy understood. Even the most patient of people sometimes could take it anymore and it seemed that you had reached your tipping point.

Hearing you snap like that was shocking but not at the same time, but he was definitely stunned to silence for a moment. Seonghwa searched for your eyes but you face was tilted to the side. Away from him!

“Yeobo please look at me?”

When you still stubbornly looked to the side, he let the hand he was still holding go. Instead putting it on your face to turn you himself, forcing you to finally face him.

His second hand also came to hold your face gently. Thumbs softly caressing your cheeks!

“I love you! And I would rather accept an eternity of WooSan pining after each other and teasing the shit out of me then have you ignoring me or have Ji-Hye all up in my business okay? I realize that I should have made it clear to her way earlier and it seems that I have to remind you too that YOU. Are. Mine! Not her or anyone else! YOU!”

You couldn´t be mad at him. Not when he so sweetly declared his love for you! You took his face into your hands, much like he was doing to you at the moment and pressed a soft lingering kiss to his waiting lips!

#park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa imagines #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa reactions #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #park seonghwa x y/n #park seonghwa x you #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #kpop x you #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios

[quasi-normalcy]

So the thing about Star Trek: Picard is...

Say what you will about the first season, but it’s meaningful. In fact, Rios says explicitly what it’s about in the fourth episode: “the existential pain of living with the consciousness of death and how it defines us as human beings.” Pretty much all of the character arcs are about different reactions to this, and the supposed “grimdarkness” of the setting reinforces this point; the Federation has become reactionary and xenophobic because it was a utopia that experienced mass death right on its doorstep for the first time in living memory. The conflict with the Synths is ultimately rooted in the fact that we die; they don’t. The fact that the finale was called “Et in Arcadia ego” really just telegraphs this; “Even in Arcadia [utopia], I [Death] am.”

And the second season, for all its many flaws, carries this theme forward, proposing that love, togetherness, and companionship are the only meaningful candles in the dark. Q is dying; he awaits meaning, and he doesn’t find it. And so he opts instead to do one last favour for Jean-Luc so at least he can spare his favourite mortal from his own fate of dying alone. Jurati is able to connect with the Borg Queen because she recognises that her own motivation is something similar: the Queen can feel herself dying across infinite realities and she doesn’t want to be alone. Seven and Raffi find each other; Rios gives up his entire life for a shot at love. It’s an infernal mess, a budget-saving exercise in want of a plot, but I’m going to be honest: I kind of adore it. I think it’s beautiful for all its flaws.

Throughout the first two seasons, we have serious contemplations of transhumanism and identity in the face of death. Picard escapes death using technology, even as his friend, a living machine, embraces his end as a necessary part of being human. Soji loses her identity even as she gains knowledge of herself as an immortal android. Jurati too embraces transhumanism and, to some extent, loses her identity by so doing, but–in an interesting twist for Star Trek–this is not stigmatized; this is framed as what’s best for her. All of this is philosophically rich, high-octane fuel for thought, as speculative fiction should be.

The third season, meanwhile–for all that I have loved (some of) the nostalgia hits injected directly into my veins–bugs me because of how absolutely lightweight it feels. Death is gone. Not just as a theme, but gone from the narrative. Sure we kill off Ro, and T’Veen, and Vadic, and Shelby, and Shaw, but it feels like nothing. Death holds no dominion; Data is back; so’s the Enterprise-D; so’s Q (or maybe he’s come in from an earlier point in his timeline; it’s not clear). Kirk apparently is alive again, resurrected offscreen sometime after Generations and kept in a covert warehouse awaiting new adventures. Apparently Terry Matalas has already formulated plans for bringing Todd Stashwick back if when he gets his “Legacy” spinoff. I’m half-surprised that they didn’t reveal that Romulus magically popped back into existence in a background Okudagram somewhere. The Federation is as “grimdark” as it has ever been depicted, but unlike the first season (or Deep Space Nine, or even the first season of Discovery), this is never seriously interrogated or problematised. We go through the motions, cargo-cult-like, of moral debate in episode 7, but it’s not connected to anything. We hear that Vadic was the product of Section 31 war crimes; Picard looks shaken up by this, but then he and Beverly immediately decide to commit some war crimes of their own by executing her. This is never mentioned again. The whole exercise feels perfunctory, as I have said above: like ten-year-olds playing with action figures. It doesn’t feel like Picard, and frankly, for all of the surface detail it gets right, it feels even less like TNG.

So no; I’m not pleased that the first two seasons were ignored.

#star trek picard spoilers #themes #I promise I will shut up eventually