#(also this is the point at which nine realizes this is going to keep happening. like okay. ten? that’s one kid he’s taking under his wing.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the human au doctors are all ambiguously from Not Great Home Situations but i think twelve specifically was having a terrible time as a foster kid and decided this little gang of weirdos would be his new family

#he’s also faceblind and can’t tell ten and eleven apart if they’re not talking for like. two months. #that’s unrelated it’s just another thing that’s true #they’re the family twelve wants and they’re the family twelve chose. and besides: he brings with him dinosaur facts. #(also this is the point at which nine realizes this is going to keep happening. like okay. ten? that’s one kid he’s taking under his wing. #and fair is fair. as annoying as ten is. as stubborn and rude as he can be. well. mostly that just reminded nine of himself. not a good #thing necessarily. but he needed someone looking after him when he was younger and ten needs him now. okay then. #but then eleven happens and eleven is Not supposed to happen but the other option is to leave him behind living in secret in amy pond’s shed #where he will inevitably be found and sent back somewhere he Does Not Want To Go Or Talk Or Think About. so nine can’t leave him. #ten and eleven might fight like pissy cats but they also huddle together when they fall asleep while nine is watching over them. #so okay then. eleven is coming too. #BUT TWELVE? this is the third time. you can’t have a coincidence three times in a row. and twelve is the one who chases after them. who #chooses them. how is nine supposed to turn him away. plus he’s got a pragmatic streak that is extremely helpful and he fits. you know? #there’s room in their little family for him. and he fits. he belongs. they see him. #so okay then. twelve is coming too.) #human!sibling!doctors au

[murdrdocs]

girl with the tattoo | e.munson

description. eddie pays for your first tattoo without knowing what it is you’re getting. when you finally show him, he practically flips his shit.

includes. SMUT 16+, dom! eddie, sub!reader, slightly meandom!eddie, doggy style sex, cum play (it’s nasty tbh), handcuffs, degradation, praise, pet names, ass slapping, sweet boyfriend eddie,the whole nine yards it seems, unprotected sex, creampie, fem!reader, AFAB!reader, very brief rimming

a/n. eventually i will stop naming fics after songs but no time soon. this has been sitting unfinished in my docs for so long that i just had to suck it up and finish it so. here we are :D also longest fic i’ve written in a while

word count. 3.6k+ words

Eddie was not known for his patience.

In all of your years of knowing him, you had never seen him display any act of patience. He liked for things to happen immediately, almost as if he only knew what patience is but not how to possess it. Sometimes, just to mock him you would tell him that “patience is a virtue”, only for him to say, “Yeah, whatever that means”.

Knowing about Eddie's impatient personality, you knew that it was going to be hell to keep your new tattoo a surprise. He obviously knew you were getting it, as he was the one funding the new piece. But when you told him that he couldn’t accompany you to the appointment, you swore that he was going to go into cardiac arrest.

He had a mini meltdown, but you managed to calm him. Only for a few hours though as he quickly began to realize that when you said he couldn’t see it, you meant he couldn’t see it until it was healed.

What followed was 2 and a half weeks of Eddie only being allowed to see small fractions of your skin, and using his critical thinking skills to eliminate the places where your tattoo could be, narrowing it down to your upper thigh, ass or boobs.

All the while, you promised him it would be worth it. And while at first he didn’t believe you, now, he truly does.

Because there you are, sitting on his bed with your legs folded under you, wearing a pretty underwear set and looking like the most delicate thing he’s ever seen.

“Do you wanna see it?” You ask, voice light and just a little bit shaky as if you’re nervous.

Eddie was so distracted by just how beautiful you looked that he forgot that you were here for a reason. He’s this close to asking what exactly the ‘it’ is, but then his brain restarts and he comes back to himself, nodding his head so hard he has to stop before it begins to hurt.

You take a deep breath, chest rising and putting your cleavage even more on display. Finally gathering the courage, you shuffle around until your back is facing Eddie. Your head turns, shoulder coming to your chin as you peek back to glance at Eddie.

His dark eyes work to find the tattoo, scanning every crevice of your back from top to bottom until there, he finds it.

Sitting in the middle of your back, directly above your mesh pink panties, is a black butterfly etched into your skin. On either side is some impressive, symmetrical line work, enhancing the focus of the design which is the insect.

Eddie doesn’t respond for a while, and if it weren’t for his heavy breathing and occasional blinking, you would think that he was unconscious.

“Do you like it?” You eventually ask, beginning to shrink in on yourself in fear that you made a permanent mistake.

“Like it?” Eddie repeats, beginning to approach you. “Baby, I love it.”

He reaches a hand out, the right one, and sprawls his fingers out over the tattoo. You flinch at the cold metal of his rings and Eddie chuckles, mumbling out a halfhearted “sorry” before he singles out his pointer fingers and trails it over the linework.

“Really?” You ask, voice light and hopeful. “I was really nervous your guy would fuck it up.”

Eddie’s finger is now in the middle of your back, at the pointed end of the heart and close to the line of your panties. “Adonis never fucks up tattoos. Dude’s got a touch for these sorts of things.”

He takes his finger away and for a brief second, you miss his touch. But you don’t have to miss it for long because then Eddie’s hands grip your waist, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into your skin as you turn your head back around to stare at the wall in front of you.

Eddie begins asking you questions about your tattoo; if it hurt during the process, how long did it take. He insists that he should’ve been there to hold your hand and crack jokes, but you reassured him that you had a friend to rely on.

Eventually, you have to reorient him by simply speaking his name.

“Hm?” He hums, thumbs still rubbing your skin.

You sigh, turning your head and glancing over your shoulder. Eddie instantly meets your eye, like a compass to the north.

“You sure it doesn’t look bad? I didn’t make a mistake, right?”

Eddie’s face softens completely. “A mistake? Baby, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You were already so fucking hot but with this tattoo? Whew!” Eddie is back to being theatrical, hands leaving your back to dramatically fan his face.

You giggle, taking the moment to turn your body around completely, shuffling in a semicircle using your knees.

Eddie calms down, his gaze getting that look to it as he tilts his head down. His hand reaches out to find yours, gently tugging it forward.

“Just feel what it does to me. Feel what you do to me.” He brings your hand to his crotch, letting you palm him through his skinny jeans. You can feel the growing bulge against your hand, the familiar feeling igniting that urge within you, sinking all the way down to your belly.

“Eddie.” You whisper, watching Eddie’s tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“It’s healed, right?” He asks. You nod softly and the movement is halted a little too soon when Eddie lunges forward to push his lips against yours.

You welcome his kiss, both of your hands reaching up to cup Eddie’s face. His hands wrap around your wrist, and then he’s pulling them off of his face and guiding them behind your back, one wrist over the other.

When he pulls his hands away, yours stay obediently in their position. You feel Eddie’s smirk against your lips and it acts as a form of nonverbal praise.

Eddie pulls his lips away from yours and you have to restrain yourself from chasing them. He doesn’t stray far and when he speaks you can feel his lips move against yours.

“Wanna fuck you while I look at that pretty tattoo. Will you let me do that?”

It takes you a second to realize that Eddie is asking to fuck you from the back, doggystyle. But when your brain is able to come to that realization, you nod so hard that your nose knocks into Eddie’s and your forehead bumps into his.

He smiles, big and wide, and steadies your head by gripping your cheeks, pushing them together and gazing lovingly at the sight. You attempt to smile and Eddie breaks out into a laugh, squishing and un-squishing your cheeks for the better half of a minute.

Eventually, you ask, “Are you gonna fuck me or not?” But your cheeks make the words come out as jumbled syllables and Eddie asks you to repeat it a few times, until he understands with a loud “Oh!”.

“Of course.” He chirps, pressing his lips to your squished ones before he drops his hands completely and instead uses them to maneuver you in the position he desires: your face pressed down into the sheets and your ass in the air.

Eddie marvels at the sight, wolf whistling at you for a moment. Your hands are still held obediently behind your back and by moving your shoulders, you bring Eddie’s attention to them.

“Just a few more,” He mumbles, trailing off as you hear him move away. You see him from the corner of your eye grabbing his pair of handcuffs. They’re a different pair from the silver ones he had before, these with black fur on the insides and a bit of cushion so they’re comfortable for you.

When he comes back around, his hands peel your panties off and you lift one knee at a time to let him slip them off. Then, his hands pull you up by your hips and his chest presses against your back as his arms encircle you, pulling yours from behind your back with the movement.

You watch as he directs you to position your wrists side by side against your stomach, and then wraps the opened cuffs around each one and closes them with a few clicks.

He kisses your shoulder, then your cheek, and mumbles something about not wanting to obstruct the view before he’s gently pushing your upper half back down and resuming his position behind you.

You wait in anticipation, taking in the sound of Eddie’s belt buckle, then the sound of his jackets hitting the ground, then the slide of his zipper and thudding of more denim hitting the ground.

Then, finally, you feel the bed dip behind you and you tense up, waiting while Eddie spreads your cheeks.

But you’re instantly relaxed when you feel Eddie’s tongue around your asshole, running around the puckered entrance in a circle.

The moan you let out is choked, shocked at first and then silky smooth once you get used to the feeling.

“Eddie, I–” All words are lost on your tongue at the foreign feeling.

“I know, sweetheart.” He pulls away for a second to tell you, then circling your hole twice more before pulling away completely. “Some other time.” He mumbles and you feel saddened for a second, but then Eddie is pushing his finger into your other hole, the one you’re used to, and you're moaning again, hips pushing back towards him.

Eddie hisses, the sound having a hint of shock and amusement to it. “Already so wet,” He muses. “Barely have to do any work.” Yet, he still pushes another finger into you, your cunt welcoming the added digit easily.

You don’t realize that you’re pushing yourself back, fucking yourself on Eddie’s fingers. But he does, stalling his hand and staring down at your ass moving forward and back with wide eyes. “So eager,” He comments, making you aware of your movements.

“Sorry.” You mumble, turning your head from having its cheeks to the sheets to instead force your entire face down into them, embarrassment taking over your entire body briefly as you scrunch your face up. It wasn’t your fault that you were left to your own devices for almost three weeks.

Although, it technically was your fault.

“‘S okay, baby. If it makes you feel any better, I’m eager to get into this tight little pussy.” You can hear the smile in his words and a giddy feeling fills up your body, starting from your pelvis and spreading to your chest where it's like little butterflies are flying.

You don’t have anytime to respond because then Eddie is asking you if he should use a condom or not. You hesitate, thinking over it and repositioning your cheek onto the covers.

Eddie gives you time to think, one of his large palms spreading over one of your ass cheeks, his fingers working to knead the flesh.

Eventually, you settle on a decision. “No condom,” You declare, eyes bright even though Eddie couldn’t see them.

“M’kay.” He says, a smile evident in his words, his palm disconnecting with your skin only to come back down onto it harshly, the rings on his fingers digging into your skin.

You flinch, mumbling a small “ow” into the sheets, to which Eddie gives a halfhearted ‘sorry’ in response to.

There’s some shuffling behind you. Eddie’s hands come to your hips and he manhandles you into the perfect position, pulling you back until your feet are hanging off the bed. He shifts his hips forward, his hands holding onto your hips tight, until his tip is right against your entrance.

You hold your breath, accidentally tensing before you force yourself to relax. Eddie rewards you by pushing in, slow and steady, allowing you room to adjust and get comfortable. He stops when he’s halfway through, and you’re the one to egg him on, pushing your hips backward until he gets the memo enough to bottom out.

Eddie wastes no time.

He pistons into you with a steady, moderate pace, not too fast nor slow. Yet, slower than you anticipated, but you’d welcome anything Eddie chooses to give you. And you tell him that with little, breathy gasps, turning your head to make sure none of them are muffled and are able to be heard by Eddie.

“There you go, pretty girl,” He says. You wonder if he’s speaking with the intended outcome of you hearing or not, because the words are so soft that the subtle squelch of your cunt sucking Eddie in, and letting him out, is louder.

Still, you let a little moan out in response, eyebrows pushing together as you attempt to hold yourself back from asking Eddie for more.

But eventually, you give in to your own needs.

“More, please, Eddie.” Is all you say, simple and pleading. You can practically hear the gears in Eddie’s head turning, attempting to decide if he should give in to you or not, the little devil and angel on his shoulders no doubt bickering amongst each other.

He ends up listening to the angel (which is you in pure white, but Eddie would never admit that), hips speeding up just enough for him to pick up the pace, but also with enough slow precision for him to bury himself deep in you, cock angled almost perfectly.

You help him out, babbling mumbles of ‘thank you’ while you tilt and turn your hips until Eddie’s cock hits that spot that you didn’t even know you were looking for.

The moan you let out is loud and chesty, coming from that same place where butterflies previously erupted.

“Right there?” Eddie asks, delivering repeated thrusts to that spot you’d angled him to. You nod, the movement uncomfortable due to the position of your head.

“There.” You confirm, back arching and pushing your cunt further back towards Eddie.

You groan, eyes rolling back into your head as you press your chest further down into the sheets. Eddie’s in you deep, hitting the spot you instructed him to, over and over and over again.

You know that you’re as physically close to Eddie as you could get, but there’s something in your brain that’s telling you that you could get closer. Like a pied piper, you follow it.

You move your arms from against your chest to above your head, fingers curling around a pillow you can find. With a few inches of freed space, you fully press your chest against Eddie’s bed, tits squished against the sheets that were definitely not cleaned since the last time you were here.

Your mouth’s open, drool pooling out of the side between little moans you let out.

You can’t feel it, but there’s arousal dripping down your inner thighs, creating a pornographic trail, all leading to those same dirtied sheets. The sheets you’re currently making a mess of.

Hopefully, if things went your way, they would have an even bigger mess to them by the time Eddie was finished.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans from behind you, his fingers digging into your hips harshly. You whine and squirm, trying to get away from the bruising grip Eddie has on you.

But all of your squirming is gone when Eddie releases a hand onto your ass again, that sting replacing the one you felt before.

“Take it.” He grunts out, through clenched teeth from the sounds of it.

“‘M sorry,” You instantly say, body tensing as you do what Eddie tells you.

But then, as a direct contrast, that same hand he used to slap your ass rubs the burning flesh, soothing the slap.

“That’s okay, baby. Just a dumb little slut ‘f me. Can’t even control your own body. You can’t help it, can you?”

You’re shaking your head, immediately brushing over the words ‘dumb’ and ‘slut’ and only focusing on how Eddie said ‘for me’. Because everything you did was for him.

You’d even laid down on a tattoo bed for over an hour, in pain, just to get a little tattoo that you were sure that Eddie would like even more than you did.

Which, you were obviously right about.

“Everything’s for you, Eddie.” You mumble, words slurred from how cock drunk you were.

Eddie coos from behind you, his thumb now running along your new tattoo.

“Even this little tattoo?” He asks, slowing his pace a little as he becomes distracted by your new ink.

“Especially the tattoo.”

And his pace is sped up again, faster and sloppier than before.

He’s losing accuracy, hitting around that spot more than he’s hitting it. But you couldn’t care less. Because Eddie’s cock is stretching and fucking you so well, and his little grunts and moans and babbles behind you are better than any shitty porno you’ve ever sat down and watch.

You’re dazed, head floaty in a way that’s similar to when you and Eddie pass a blunt back and forth in the back of his van. You don’t even notice that you’re close, not until your body starts to chase that feeling, hips grinding and circling in a coordinating way with Eddie’s thrusts that you didn’t even think you could achieve.

“You close, princess?” Eddie asks, voice a bit shaky due to his movements.

You hum affirmatively, pitch high in a way that would make you cringe if you currently cared.

One of Eddie’s hands pulls you flush against him, his patch of pubic hair brushing against your ass, and his other hand curls around your body to reach between your legs and bring two fingers to your clit.

All it takes is a few circles and then the arch in your back is inverting, thighs shaking as every muscle in your face scrunches up.

You cum hard, your fingers squeezing the edge of the pillow you’d grasped onto so hard that you can feel your fingernails against your palm.

Eddie helps you through your orgasm in a painful way, not daring to slow his fingers around your clit or his thrusts into your tight canal.

You’re practically sobbing at this point, sweet little cries of Eddie’s name falling from your lips.

When your thighs have stopped shaking and you’re giving into Eddie’s touch instead of moving away from it, Eddie’s thrusts become even sloppier.

“Can you cum again for me, sweetheart?” Your mind is telling you that you can’t, but your body is telling you the exact opposite, an aftershock of an orgasm already building in your lower abdomen.

You don’t respond. You don’t have to. Eddie can feel your walls fluttering around his cock like the wings of a butterfly.

His pointer and middle fingers speed up around your clit and you’re bracing yourself at this point, muscles tensing and relaxing repeatedly until you trigger your own orgasm.

It’s not as big as the one before, but you’re not focusing on that. Instead, you’re focusing on the way Eddie is losing himself behind you, both of his hands back at your hips, his own hips slapping into yours in fast thrusts until you feel his cock twitch and then the hot spurts of his cum.

You both moan in harmony, the mutual feeling of Eddie’s release inside of you taking over both of you.

His hips push against yours in short, staccato thrusts, making sure all of his cum is inside of you before he pulls out.

Silently, Eddie watches the way you clench around nothing, thereby forcing his cum out of your hole for it to drizzle down onto your cunt.

“Shit,” He curses, the same two fingers he had on your clit dragging along your cunt, gathering his cum along the digits.

Then, you feel nothing until Eddie’s still warm cum drips onto your lower back, right over your tattoo.

“Eddie,” You start, head turning and upper half lifting off of the bed.

“Shh.” Eddie says, splaying a hand flat between your shoulder blades and pushing you back against the bed with a thud. “Just a little healing ointment for you.”

It’s disgusting, so absolutely disgusting, but you can’t help but enjoy the way Eddie rubs his cum into your skin like moisturizer. You sit still while Eddie works to massage your skin, spreading his cum along your lower back and over your sore ass cheeks.

Then, once he’s finished, he kisses in the middle of your back and steps back completely. But not before placing his hands along your waist and pulling your upper half up from the bed.

You roll over onto your back, bringing your hands down to rest against your stomach again while you stare at the ceiling.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You say to Eddie, letting your eyes look at him from over your nose.

Eddie hums, starting to head out of his bedroom door. He stops when he’s almost across the threshold, turning to look over his shoulder to say, “You’re the one who lets me be”. Which, you can’t argue there.

You lay back on Eddie’s bed in silence with his cum sticking along your skin and drizzling out of your cunt.

You’re mostly out of it while Eddie cleans you up, a warm cloth gently running along your pussy, calloused hands maneuvering you enough to clean up your ass and back. He kisses along your skin as he works, making sure to kiss along your wrists when he unlocks the handcuffs, and along your face and neck as he slips one of his shirts over your body.

You come to enough to take a few hits from a blunt that Eddie lights, telling him that you’re fine and that he wasn’t too rough between puffs.

But when he excuses himself to go in the kitchen and make Kraft mac and cheese, you’re already knocked out, eyes closed and body lax on the disgusting, grimy bed sheets.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #dom!eddie #celeste writes st #eddiesworld!

[runnning-outof-time]

embracing them from a sudden hug from behind but this time it's tommy!! <3

Ahh!! I’m so happy you sent another request in! 🥰 I’m sorry it took a little bit for me to get to writing it. I hope you enjoy!

You Do So Much For Us

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: none

Tommy surprises (Y/N) a few times in one night.

(Y/N) had just put the baby down to sleep after nursing and rocking him for the last half hour. She was also tired, but just couldn’t bring herself to step away from his crib. He always looked so peaceful when he slept, and it made her look at him with wonder; amazed at how she and Tommy created something so beautiful.

She was so immersed in thought that she didn’t hear the nursery door open, or the footsteps sound off the hardwood. In fact, she didn’t hear anything at all, which made her jump when two arms wrapped around her waist from behind. The sudden hug made her gasp, but her heart was quickly calmed when the smell of cigarettes and cologne filled her nostrils.

“You should know better than to sneak up on me like that, Thomas Shelby,” she scolded him quietly, being mindful not to wake the baby.

“Did I sneak up on you?” he asked her, his voice husky right next to her ear. She couldn’t stop the chills that coursed through her body upon hearing it.

“You did!” she whisper yelled, twisting her neck as best as she could in order to give him an incredulous look.

“Well for that I am truly sorry, Mrs. Shelby,” he said, nuzzling his face into her neck as he swayed her gently, his arms tightening around her abdomen as he pressed his lips to her skin.

“No you’re not,” she jokingly stated, her hands falling onto his forearms, gently running along them. “I’m surprised that you’re home so early,” she commented then, making sure to keep her voice low.

“It’s half past nine, love,” he pointed out, lifting his face enough so that he could talk without his words being muffled.

“That’s early for you, love,” she countered, using the same term of endearment that he’d just said as she spoke in a matter of fact tone. Tommy only chuckled against her skin, knowing this was a losing battle for him. “Loosen up,” she said to him then, pressing gently on his arms so that he’d get the hint and loosen his hold on her. He listened, letting go of her just enough so that she could spin in his arms to face him. “How was your day?” she asked, her hands rising so that she could fiddle with the clip that he wore on his tie.

“Fine,” he responded simply, and (Y/N) nodded, knowing that that was the extent of what she was going to get from him. “I had a talk with Pol…”

“You did?” (Y/N) answered, her eyebrows raising as surprise filled her voice. She was instantly curious as to what was talked about.

“Yeah…” Tommy trailed off, pursing his lips as he looked down at her, “she told me what it is that would make you happy.”

(Y/N)’s heart started thundering in her chest as dozens of scenarios started rushing through her mind, spurred on by Tommy’s veiled statement. “Wha…what did she tell you?” she hesitantly asked him, her eyes wide as she waited intently for his answer, knowing full well that Polly could have told him anything.

“She said that you want to go on holiday. So I figured I’d make that happen. We’ll go somewhere nice; just the two of us…”

“Tommy,” (Y/N) gasped, stopping him mid-sentence.

“She offered to take Charlie; said we can go for as long as we want,” his grin grew as he shared more details with her.

“She really said all that?” she checked to make sure this was really happening before reacting.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, love,” he answered her, watching as a wide smile formed on her face.

“That’s amazing!” she exclaimed, sucking her lips against her teeth as she realized that they were standing feet away from their sleeping son. A quick peek over Tommy’s shoulder made her relax; Charlie was still sleeping. “I can’t believe she suggested that,” she whispered this time, smiling at Tommy again.

“What did you think she told me?” he questioned, his one eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

“You’d be surprised what I share with Polly,” she paused, watching surprise fill his features, “but don’t you worry about that,” she made sure to add, patting on his chest for extra effect. Tommy only chuckled at her statement, shaking his slightly at his wife’s antics. She smiled up at him, excitement coursing through her. “We’re really going to go on holiday?” she checked with him again after a few moments had passed. It was like she wanted to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Yes,” he nodded his head, his smile returning, “we are. Anywhere you choose. You do so much for us, love, it’s only fair that I show you how much I appreciate you.”

“I love you,” (Y/N) smiled at him, squeezing his biceps lightly as she leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” Tommy repeated the sentiment, mumbling it against her lips before he kissed them again. “I think we ought to go to bed…before Charles wakes up,” he suggested once they’d pulled away from each other.

(Y/N) peered over his shoulder again to see that the baby had, thankfully, slept through his parents’ entire conversation. “I think we should,” she agreed, frowning slightly when she realized that that meant Tommy would have to let go of her. She was quite content in his arms.

“C’mon…let’s go to bed,” he nodded towards the door, taking hold of her hand so that he could lead her out and to their bedroom.

It didn’t take long until (Y/N) was smiling again, content in Tommy’s arms as he hugged her to his body from behind. She closed her eyes, her mind full of the possible holiday destinations. She was surprisingly able to push them aside and get to sleep rather quickly…something told her that Tommy’s presence was to thank for that.

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[willyoubethepookietomypookster]

"Not so common cold"

Hey yall!! Its finally out!! The ending was a little rushed because I wanted to get it over with, but i hope you still enjoy it! This one is a little longer than the others, which I'm really proud of cuz i usually lose motivation very quickly on writing projects. Also sorry for any bad grammar or non capitalized i's. Its my adhd. Happy reading!!

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It was a cold, rainy day in Soho. You lay restless on the bookshop floor, the cold wood being the only thing keeping you from melting. You basically lived here at this point, but when you woke up with your blistering fever, Aziraphale was no where to be found. He left a note saying he was out for business with Crowley, but he wouldn't answer any calls. After about 2 hours, you decide to call them one more time. You reach for your pocket before realizing you left it on the couch. You pull yourself up by holding on a table, and trudge over to the couch. You grab your phone and speak into the phone.

"Call Aziraphale." You strain.

"Calling Azraphale." The cheery british bot says. It said his name wrong and that makes you chuckle, which then makes you start coughing up a storm.

"Damnittttt. Pick upppppp!!" You whine. "C'mon! You can't be this busy." You're on the verge of tears when Aziraphale picks up.

"Sorry y/n, I seemed to have accidentally set my phone to silent before Crowley told me to check it, because there's no way you haven't checked in. I saw that I had nine missed calls, is everything alright?" He sounds really worried.

"I'm sick out of my mind. I'm dyinggg." You whine again. Aziraphale starts audibly freaking out over the phone.

"Oh heavens!!! Crowley we've got to go home right now!" You hear him yelling in the background.

"Sorry dear, we'll be right over, don't even worry about it." He says hastily.

"Wasn't. See u soon Pa." You reply. Your fever has been steadily going down, but you're still a little delirious, as you called Aziraphale dad on accident. Aziraphale and Crowley have asked you about your parents before, but you always refuse to talk about them for some reason. The truth is, you don't even remember your parents, but whenever you try and think about them you get a weird pit in your stomach, filled with fear, sadness, and a little anger, so they decided to stop pushing.

"Y/n wh-" Aziraphale starts, but the line cuts, and you assume that his phone died or something. You go lay back on the floor, awaiting their arrival.

About half an hour later, Crowley and Aziraphale arrive. They both have a bag of something. You try to peel yourself off the floor, but it makes you dizzy and you give up.

"You look like death." Crowley says.

"I feel like death." You reply, barely moving. He almost rolls his eyes, but he hesitates, and for a second you can see his gaze soften, before he decides to roll his eyes anyway.

"Okay kid, this isn't Romeo and Juliet, you'll be fine." He says, walking off somewhere. Aziraphale walks in and kneels beside you.

"Okay y/n, roll over so I can feel your forehead." Aziraphale says. You groan and protest, but do it anyway. His hand is warm, and while that would usually be nice, its terrible right now.

"Your hands are too warmmm." You say, trying to wriggle away.

"Jeez, y/n, you're burning up! Come on, up we go. Lets lay on the couch, okay?" He states, lifting you up by your arms and basically dragging you over to the couch. You lay down flat and get hit by a wave of nausea and groan.

"This really sucks." You sniffle, your voice wavering as you feel like crying.

"I know, I know, its okay." Aziraphale responds, rubbing your back. He waves his hand and suddenly the room is very cold. He shivers slightly, but you sigh in relief, as you felt like you would shrivel up and die any second from heat stroke. Crowley walks in and almost recoils in shock from the temperature.

"It's like a freezer in here! What happened?" He yelps. Aziraphale gives a sympathetic nod in your direction and Crowley calms down almost immediately. Crowley hesitates for a second, but reaches down to feel your forehead. His hand is surprisingly cold and you lean into it.

"Jeez, you really are burning up." He whispers. Aziraphale makes a comment about how Crowley really is nice, which makes him rip his hand off of your forehead and down into his pocket, which makes you whine.

"Noo your hands are cold and nice." You pout. You typically wouldn't be acting like this, but your fever has you delirious. Crowley gives you a funny look, and almost reached back down before seeing Aziraphales smile and deciding against it.

"Too bad. I'm not gonna pamper you just cuz you're sick, you know." He says and you whine again. He leaves the room to do hell knows what and you talk to Aziraphale.

It had been an hour and a half since they returned and you had thrown up once and then fallen asleep. The bags that they walked in with were now stuffed in the back office. One filled with medican from a local pharmacy and the other filled with your favorite take out. Crowley was the one who suggested the takeout, but when they got home they saw that you were in no state to eat and so Crowley put it in the small fridge they bought for you in back.

After a few minutes, you woke up, but kept your eyes closed to conserve energy. While you were lying there, Crowley walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He gingerly reached over and brushed some hair out of your eyes. You hold back a smile to see what he would do next.

"You poor creature. I had forgotten how fragile you are." He states. This catches you off guard, as this is totally out of character for Crowley. Crowley notices you twitch, and you pretend to wake up. He quickly pulls his hand away and goes to stand up.

"Where are you going?" You say, faking a yawn and rubbing your eye. His gaze softens slightly as he sits back down next to you.

"Nowhere. Don't worry about it." He says and smiles, obviously being nicer because you're ill.

"Good." You say, and grab his hand. You guys sit in silence for a while before Aziraphale comes and takes your temperature again.

"101.." He sighs. "But at least its going down. You were 109 an hour ago." He smiles.

"109?????" You exclaim. "Aren't I supposed to go to the hospital at that point??" Aziraphale looks a little stunned, but Crowley makes a noise and sprawls out on the couch.

"Too late now. You're fever has gone down to a normal-ish level." He states. You guys all move to a table in the back room, and Crowley grabs the previous take out from the fridge and places the bag on the table.

"Ya still nauseous or do you think you can eat?" You look inside the bag and your face lights up.

"From (fav restaurant)????!!! I'm starved!!" You exclaim, and immediately start pulling the containers out from the bag. Aziraphale is typically the one who eats with you, as Crowley doesn't enjoy it as much as he does, but he decides to eat with you guys today just to make you happy.

"Damn Y/n, if I knew any better, I'd say you hate this restaurant." Crowley says and chuckles as you pull containers out at the speed of light. Aziraphale gives him a look.

"Well obviously not, look at the speed they're-"

"Sarcasm, Angel." Crowley interrupts.

"Ah, well. Of course." Aziraphale says.

"Its okay dad. Pa was just teasing. He meant no harm." You say, while opening a container and digging some food out of it. They decide mutually not to pay attention to the fact that you called them dad, and to just enjoy the moment. They didn't mind the term. Quite the opposite in fact, (though Crowley would never admit that) but they often didn't know how to react. They just smiled and chatted while you ate. Crowley ruffled your hair and Aziraphale made you some hot chocolate. Suddenly your terrible sick day wasn't so terrible after all.

#sick day #ineffable husbands #good omens season one #good omens #crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #good omens x reader #good omens fic #crowley being cute #aziraphale #teen reader #i love this show #im tired #have fun #this is so cute #yall better read it

[somerandomdudelmao]

Okay. This is it. Theory time.

I'm going to write an essay on "how I love elaborate lore in Mystic Hands by @characcoon " It may or may not be a complete circus, but at least you'll have fun watching me getting it wrong eh?

Okay, first of all, let me put on my clown suit for this performance. Because, I'll be honest, I can only understand 70% of a complex text if I don't use a translator. And the translator also tends to change the meaning of the text.

I'm also writing this essay through a translator and just hoping for the best, so...ahahaha...yeah.

Chapters nine and ten of Mystic Hands gave me something to think about. Mostly because, all of a sudden, Bishop and his lab-military squad turned out to be more than background characters. And let me tell you, I grew up on the 2003 series. I may not remember all the nuances of the plot there very well, but I remember the asshole named Bishop perfectly~ But I'm not sure how similar 2003 Bishop and MH Bishop are, so I'm just...anxious in advance and start looking for things that would ring a bell.

From what I learned in chapters 9 and 10:

Bishop is an asshole.

He has his precious organization.

He also has access to empyrium and a recipe for crafting an incredibly toxic herbicide.

He also has a mustache. ( funny how this part puzzles me the most)

Michelangelo talks about him as a cruel and despicable scumbag who should have been rolled in asphalt at the first opportunity. He also calls Bishop a liar, so I guess in the future Bishop and the turtles have a... "adventure" haha... And of course we all know how fun stories with a cruel scientist and mutants can be. Yep.

This is where I start trying to put the puzzle together.

When Michelangelo sees the glowing blue stuff in the vials he reacts rather emotionally and says it could be a version of a anti-mutagen. He also says that it might help bring Raph back to normal when he asks Donnie to analyze the thing.

Donnie does the analysis.

The so-called "anti-mutagen" turns out to be an herbicide. Yes, very toxic and suspect and containing empyrium, but only herbicide.

In this moment. ONLY at that moment does Michelangelo realize that his information about the substance and its capabilities was wrong. And for SOME reason, it makes him absolutely furious.

And this is where the shit hits the fan.

Everything written above leads me to believe that the Turtles have already dealt with Bishop and his "anti-mutagen" in a bad timeline of the future. Whatever happened, Michelangelo came out of that adventure with the certainty that the blue stuff was a anti-mutagen. Which in itself is not suspicious, because even with his constant sleepovers in Donnie's lab, Michelangelo is still not that advanced a science dude. If he was young enough, Bishop could pour Sprite into a test tube, call it a anti-mutagen, and Michelangelo would buy it.

What a good thing they had Donnie for situations like that, I thought. And then I thought again. A little more anxious.

Did they?

Obviously, if Donnie had participated in the "adventure" with Bishop, he would not have allowed the turtles to call the strange liquid a retromutagen without analyzing it at least ten different ways. Even if Bishop hadn't given him a free sample, Donnie would have found a way to extract as much information as possible. Michelangelo was his lab partner. There was no way he would have missed something that important.

So...I guess at that point in the future, Donny wasn't there. Which leaves me with two possibilities. Either he was dead, or...he was taken out of the game for some reason.

The death option looks pretty straightforward. Donnie wasn't there to take control of the situation, so Bishop could probably afford a lot of free lying.

But I tend to think more about the second option.

Because Michelangelo, after getting into the past, intends to keep Donnie away from Bishop. This cannot be dictated by logic. Donnie, of all turtles, would be best able to consider if Bishop tries to pull something sneaky. Donnie has his technique, his knowledge, and his ability to hack any computer with just a dessert fork and rage. And yet Michelangelo takes Donnie with him into the tunnels. Because I'm sure he's guided not by logic but by fear.

Which leads me to the second option.

Donnie was not there at the time of the "adventure". Maybe physically he was alive, but he wasn't there at that moment of the future. Because Bishop did something to him.

That's why Donnie couldn't discover the lie about the anti-mutagen. And that's why Michelangelo wants to keep his younger version away from Bishop.

Now. This is where my knowledge of the 2003 series comes into the chat. More specifically, about one of my favorite stories from there - season 4 episodes 24 and 25 - "Good Genes."

( These are the episodes in which Donnie mutates, turning into a monster because he was previously stung by one of Bishop's mutants. Donnie's brothers spend a very "fun" amount of time trying to figure out how to cure him, but none of them are smart enough. So they are forced to make a deal with Bishop to reverse Donnie's mutation. Bishop was nice enough to actually do it and at the end of the story Donnie is fine again)

What if. Listen. WHAT IF something like this happened in a bad timeline.

Maybe Donnie was infected by Krang. Maybe he mutated for some other reason. Something happened to him. Something that caused the rest of the turtles to go to Bishop for help, because Donnie was usually the one who solved problems like this and Donnie wasn't there at the time.

This is where I pull out the "squeeze apple juice out of oranges" pokemon, because I'm starting to use information that isn't in the fanfic. We have the art, and the post.

And Donnie is not having a good time there. There's also the idea that the anti-mutagen in Mystic Hands doesn't work as neatly and conveniently as it did in 2003 and 2012. It doesn't turn a hypothetical mutant turtle back into a regular turtle.

The art quite clearly complements this thought.

At first I thought - hey, anti-mutagen works differently. I guess it's because it's supposed to reverse a secondary mutation or Crang infection?

Then I thought again. You know, more thoroughly. Bishop was lying.

There was no anti-mutagen, at least not in the sense that the turtles needed it. They only THOUGHT the thing existed because Bishop convinced them it did.

So. What are the chances that Donnie was infected with something the turtles couldn't handle on their own? So they had to enlist the help of Bishop. But unlike the man in 2003 this Bishop didn't do his part honestly and used some version of the toxic herbicide on Donnie?

What are the chances that at first the herbicide actually worked as a cure for Krang, because in this universe Krangs are apparently very evil vegetables? How long did it take for this substance to start killing Donnie himself? Because there's no way I'm going to believe that this caustic stuff is harmless to living creatures of any kind. Was the herbicide slow enough for the turtles to think the "anti-mutagen" was working and happily celebrate Donnie's healing? Maybe it took hours, maybe days, but my guess is that at some point the herbicide destroyed Donatello, giving enough time before that, however, for Michelangelo to remember that "blue stuff = cure for krangification."

That's why Michelangelo was so furious when he found out the blue stuff wasn't a retromutagen. He realized that Bishop had lied to him by calling this toxic crap a healing possibility. He realized that Donnie, his Donnie from the future, was not healed. He realized that Bishop probably didn't even try to heal him, taking advantage of the incompetence of the turtles.

_________

Either that or Bishop in the future just stole Donnie and experimented on him for fun and science or something. And I just wasted a lot of your and my time for nothing~

Everything I've written here could be complete nonsense haha. And I'm not even sure I used half the terms correctly, because translating things from English into my native language and then translating back is tedious. But I hope that at least this post will be fun to reread when the fanfic plot moves on and mysteries are solved lmao

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #riseofthetmnt #mystic hands #idk what Im doing #it’s just some silly thoughts #thanks for coming to my ted talk

[queenofthearchipelago]

We've been speculating that there's timeline nonsense going on in season 2. That's a main facet of the Sideburn Theory. But it never made any sense to me until maybe just now.

I'll have to rewatch it later to see if it actually makes any sense, but what if in the Original Timeline, Crowley wasn't there for any of this?

What if he was off doing something else and when Aziraphale called, he didn't pick up? Which leads to Aziraphale doing everything on his own, taking care of Gabriel. He takes the train to Edinburgh. The angels and the demons still come to the bookshop. The Metatron still gives Aziraphale the offer. He thinks of Crowley, how dangerous this all is and how much worse (and how much better) it would have been if Crowley had been there.

Crowley shows up at the end, to say No, let's just run away together. Don't go to Heaven. What are you even talking about? What happened?

And Aziraphale goes to Heaven anyway. Leaving a heartbroken Crowley behind.

And what if that Original Timeline Crowley, this being who can stop time, realizes he can reverse it? He goes back to a few days ago, when Aziraphale was still on Earth, he sets up a meeting with Shax who he has found out is his replacement. He wants to talk about what's going on these days.

"What's even the point of it all?"

And because he's in the car when the phone rings, and he was headed to Aziraphale's anyway, he's there to help.

"How can I help you?"

He sees Gabriel in the bookshop, he freaks out. Oh, so THIS is what happened. Get him out of the bookshop, Aziraphale doesn't leave.

Doesn't work. He gets kidnapped by Beez, who tells him about Extreme Sanctions and what Aziraphale got himself into. Crowley realizes he has to follow this path a bit longer. He goes back, apologies for saying Aziraphale would be doing this alone. They work together. They protect him.

Eventually, Aziraphale wants to go to Edinburgh. He wants to take Crowley's car. Not the train. Aziraphale reaches out to touch the car, Crowley slaps his hand away.

"The Bentley is MY car."

But he lets Aziraphale go. He protects Gabriel, he protects the bookshop, he knows they're coming for Aziraphale. But the angel isn't here. Crowley is nervous, but also relieved.

And then Aziraphale comes back. They plan the Street Meeting. Crowley still doesn't know how he's gonna try and keep Aziraphale on earth. Aziraphale doesn't know what's going on with Gabriel.

And then Nina talks to Crowley about love. Crowley realizes, that's it. Maybe I can just love him enough to stay.

The battle happens. Crowley figures out what happened to Gabriel. He lets the Metatron talk to Aziraphale because that was inevitable anyway. Nine and Maggie tell him to tell Aziraphale he loves him. Crowley realizes that would help, in every way that would be good.

He's nervous but he says the words.

Or, he tries to.

Aziraphale still wants to go to Heaven

What? Even now? After I supported you these past days? After we survived this together? After 6000 years? After everything? This is still the choice you make?

So Crowley tells him he loves him, as best as he can.

It doesn't work.

He kissed him.

It doesn't work.

Nothing worked.

Aziraphale goes to Heaven anyway.

And this time, Crowley lets the time tick forward

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens theory #is a half baked idea but I wrote a post anyway #thoughtsfromthequeen

[wannabepapa]

I see you’ve been reboggling a lot of old asks from me which has also gotten my brain juice flowin like

Lately I’ve been thinking about roommates who bond over a pregnancy. A one night stand or a surrogacy, doesn’t really matter, all we care about are the roomies who are now stuck in this fun situation of finding a new groove. Bonus points if the pregnant one gets big and uncomfy quick, leading to far far more late night rendezvouses.

The way I picture it, it starts with your typical incredibly awkward “I gotta come clean about something” scenario, with roomie B expecting a broken appliance or a forgetting power bill, but certainly not a pregnancy! Then as roomie A grows, they get needy, which sends roomie B into overdrive. Late night pizza runs become a regular occurrence, waking up way too early to hold their roommates hair, sitting up at night cause roomie A thinks they felt a kick and wants witnesses.

Then break happens, they go home, and when roomie A comes back they’re HUGE, which changes everything. Suddenly they need so much more to be comfy, and roomie B begins to realize just how much they like being there for their pal. They spend all afternoon at school just to come home and both collapse into the same twin bed, using the other bedroom as storage because who needs it? Sharing is caring after all. Roomie B is there to hold roomie A when they’re sobbing at a ghibli film or some advertisement about sad animals, they’re there to help with anything academic or physical, they’re driving their expectant buddy to and from appointments now that they’ve outgrown the drivers seat.

Bajshxjhshxhs it is 5 am and this ask is ridiculously long winded but I am tired and sappy and obsessed with this idea and thought you’d like it okie bye

uh hello???????? you have left this beauty of an ask in my inbox?????? Marin i am kissing your forehead right now.

roommate B has had nothing but terrible experiences with past roommates so when A comes to confess something they brace themselves for a problem. it's expected, especially when A looks anxious and worried before spilling the secret. the last thing that B would have ever expected was to be living with someone who was going to have a baby. they don't hate babies but they never hung out with people who had children of their own. it was going to be a learning curve to say the least.

the roommates were never close in the beginning, keeping to themselves as they had only recently roomed together but now they find themselves in each other's space. A has asked for help in the morning because the nausea makes it tough to function early in the morning so B is on kitchen duty. B tends to do a lot of the clean up now to give their roomie a break in the first trimester. it's only fair that someone does the bulk of the housework when A is creating a whole person over the course of nine months!

B is also in this weird "I'm not the parent of this child but I feel responsible for A and this child" state of mind that is confusing to them. they don't know why their brain has latched onto being the caretaker for a pregnant person but whatever A asks for, they get. A is feeling cold and wants to borrow a blanket? it's put in the dryer so it's extra warm. it's two am and they have an intense craving for pizza, but only the pizza at this shop that is an hour away? yeah just let B get dressed and get coffee in them before they take the drive. they don't want to be sitting alone at their doctor's appointment and want moral support? of course B will be driving them to and from every appointment now so they don't have to be alone. A meekly knocks on the bedroom door and says the baby needs a cuddle? get in under the covers and pick a movie! it's this perfectly platonic relationship that both just don't acknowledge but now all of their family and friends wonder if they're dating.

when they have to go home for their respective holidays there are definitely tears shed by A. it's seventy-five percent hormones and twenty-five percent not wanting to be away from B for weeks on end. they're ending their second trimester right now and terribly needy. the roomies have forgone sticking to each other's rooms to alternating every few days—it's become their routine. A also worries that something catastrophic will happen and B will force them to move out which B shuts down immediately. they're stuck with each other now whether they liked it or not. this comfortable thing the roomies have with each other is too precious to B for it to ever cross their mind to end it. A has become more than a friend, they've become a companion that has made their days more exciting ever since they got close. it isn't long after A is dropped off at the airport (with more tears shed) and B not even out of the parking structure that a text is sent that reads "we already miss you :c"

they talk every day of the break. A leaves no details of the crazy antics sprinkle (the baby has a thing for funfetti cake and B said they were probably a sprinkle now so it stuck) has been up to and complaining how cold it was where their family lives. they've sent many a selfie where they were hidden under piles of blankets or bundled up in multiple layers of warm clothes with a pouty lip and silly quip about how nobody does the dryer trick here like B does. it's too cute for B to handle. the weeks drag on for eternity to their dismay, their mind straying to how their gravid friend was doing.

to make matters worse A was stuck for an extra week due to a surprise blizzard that grounded all planes going in and out of the state. that was nearly a month apart and it drove B mad. too much time has been spent away from A and there was going to be hell to pay if this new flight would be canceled. if they were stuck any longer with their parents A wouldn't be cleared to fly, leaving them with no other choice but driving hours back down. B would have gone up there themselves to bring A back if it was necessary but to their happiness there were no cancelations and A was in route back home. B couldn't pick them up—work had switched schedules without asking—so they sent a friend to go to the airport for pick up. luckily A would already be home by the time B was off work so they wouldn't be alone in the house for long.

B never considered how fast someone grew in their final months of pregnancy. A's clothes still hide the bump before they left. now, walking into the apartment, B could do nothing except stare at their roommate. A hadn't grown, but popped in the last month since they were apart! there was an undeniable swell that tented A's shirt, their stance wider as they waddled to the door to greet B with a watery grin. the bump is pressed between them which makes it impossible to really hug while making it hard for B to not plaster their hands on the belly. the baby takes the opportune moment to shift between them as they were clearly unhappy about being squished. A chuckles at the movement but B is completely losing it.

after that they don't really stay apart for long. they're very, very close to one another at every second of the day just to revel in the fact that the baby will be born soon. A likes to complain about the pains from the movements of the nugget but they will actually miss it. B, however, has made it loud and clear how they'll miss being able to cuddle up with the belly and feel the nugget move. though both are equally excited to meet the little kicker that they've been waiting nearly ten months to hold.

#;ask and ye shall receive #darling marin #domestic things #platonic friends

[blueduplicity]

Oh, the White of a Red Rose (P1)

(Part 2)

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

WC: ~28k

CW: INCEST. Alcohol, jealous behavior, reader is in a relationship with another woman at one point, absurd amounts of plot, the 2nd half will have all the smut. Banter, Tsukki is kinda mean but he's also pining like crazy. Morally questionable bc they're siblings outside of that it's pretty fluffy, light angst throughout. Switch reader and Kei, they both have moments on top and on bottom, Kei in particular is pretty subby tho...kind of degrading, but he also praises you, theres a lot of back and forth tbh.

Excerpt: He mirrors your blink, cat-like. “We’re helping him move, he said he’d need some help driving his things to the apartment.”

“Apartment?” You echo, stunned fully awake. “He’s moving?”

Hinata freezes, just as Kei is coming up the stairs. While slow at first, the footsteps hasten when the sharp crack of your voice pitches even higher. He stumbles up to the top step, sweaty and clearly having been busy for longer than you’ve been awake. His face pales several shades when he first catches sight of you, the tears welling up in your eyes, the panicked look Hinata wears. “Fuck. Wait, don’t–”

Twenty-two steps from one end of the hall to the other. Seventeen from the stairs to your room, it only takes Kei nine to reach you, choking on an apology that he’s never given you before.

It only takes two for you to slam and lock the door.

--

In which, your brother Kei comes to learn and love you in a multitude of different ways.

It's only at the beginning of your first year of high school that your brother realizes you're upset with him. 

What he doesn’t realize is that you’ve been upset with him, for a long fucking time.

Kei wouldn’t know that though, because you hardly ever even see him unless it’s at the dinner table, or when you go to his games because unlike him, you’re a good sibling and want to support your family.  

You know it’s because of school, because he’s getting ready for college and adulting, and the part of you that will always love your brother is just glad that he’s happy playing volleyball again. 

It’s just that, you wish he didn’t have to leave you behind for it to happen. 

Even when he’d shut out Akiteru, he’d never been so cold towards you. He’d hold your hand on the walk to school, study with you when you needed the help, and he’d let you stay in his room to watch him play games or to read on your own if you wanted.

He was the type of brother to be mean to you if you annoyed him, but would always let you crawl beneath his arm after, all while you complained that he needed to be nicer to you. 

You would take the bullying again if it meant he would at least look at you for more than a few seconds at a time. 

It’s worse as you near the end of your last year in junior high, when you go to Kei for help with studying for your exams and he brushes you aside. You’ve been festering with it for so long that it nearly boils over just as he closes the door in your face, but you keep it simmered, keep it contained. 

Akiteru helps you instead. On top of a full-time job, a fiance, and a healthy social life, Akiteru always makes time for you.

The topic doesn’t stay on exams, though. He was going to ask eventually, but he can tell by your grumpy, clipped answers that he won’t get much out of you, the wound is still too raw. 

“You should talk to him, you know.” He muses, turning a page in your textbook. “Kei loves you, he just doesn’t know how to balance growing up with everything else, but if you tell him how you feel I’m sure he’ll find a way to compromise.”  

You think, quite honestly, that trying to talk to Kei about how you feel would be the worst possible thing to do. If he can’t find the time to help with something as important as final exams, there’s no point in trying to make him listen to feelings he won’t care about. 

When you tell him as much, resting your head on folded arms as if that will obscure the way your face twists, Akiteru gives a wry smile and rubs your back, silently marveling at the stubbornness of both of his younger siblings, and how different they are besides. 

Still, the Tsukishimas are nothing if not good at repressing their emotions. You’re determined to act like everything is fine, like it doesn’t hurt every time you catch his eye and he looks away. It’ll be easy.

Or, maybe it might have been, if you had considered that the reason Kei was able to stay so oblivious is exactly because he never saw you. You’ve never been a quiet little sister, even in temporary silence your anger is loud. 

--

So of course, he figures it out on your first day.

You can hear, as you’re getting dressed, your mom’s voice through your door, asking Kei to walk you to school since you don’t know the way. As you lean closer to hear how he responds, something ugly twists in your chest when he sighs out a quietly exasperated agreement. Like you’re a chore. 

Unsurprisingly, this is a less than ideal start to your morning. 

Smoothing down the fabric of your skirt, you step out of your room and peer down the hall, finding that he’s already waiting by the front door, with his headphones pulled up over his ears and his phone in hand. There’s no way to slip past him without being seen, so you suffer out a quiet groan and resign yourself to just having a bad first day. 

He says nothing when you walk over to put your shoes on, eyes on the screen in his hands until you step outside, and then he’s following you onto the porch after shutting the door on his way out.

Contrary to the stormy cloud brewing above your head, it’s a nice morning. A little chilly, but the sky is clear and still tinted pink from the vestiges of an early dawn, thin wispy clouds that are lower near the horizon line. 

Maybe if you were with anyone else, it would be a nice walk. Side by side with your brother, dealing with first day jitters, a cool new uniform, it should be nice. Pretty skies, family, memories. 

And yet, for all your effort to try being positive, all it takes is one passing remark. 

“I have practice today.” He drawls, unknowingly lighting a well-fueled ticking bomb. “So if you don’t want to walk home alone, ask mom to come pick you up after school.”

The flimsy, brittle, translucent facade shatters. 

“Fuck off.” 

It’s hard and cold, bitter, the consonants sharp and the vowels short. Clipped, like how he talks to you, though your voice carries a whole lot of vitriol compared to his monotone, and it is most definitely not positive.  

He stops, reaching out to catch you by the elbow when you make to keep walking past him. “What?” 

You try to pull your arm away, but his fingers curl in the thin material of your sleeve, tight, and he steps closer. Insufferably tall, towering over you, brow pinched with vague annoyance in his eyes. 

“Let go.” You’re being petulant, you know you are, but something petty cinches in your chest, spite that clips your voice and keeps it sharp.  

Akiteru doesn’t push you when you get upset, he’s used to Kei shutting him down and you being the type to want space, so he’s careful around the lines of your boundaries and treats them kindly. 

You’re mom’s third teenager, she’s learned at this point what the specific kinds of bad behavior are to watch out for, and beyond that she’ll wait it out until you’re ready to talk. 

Kei, who would rather avoid any and all forms of confrontation, has never been the type to back off and let you wait it out. Probably the only one who knows that you can’t stand being left to sit in bad feelings, but always lack the initiative to reach out. 

Still, even though he knows, that’s not to say he isn’t sometimes cruel about it. 

“Something you need to say?” He taunts, mean and low, eyes narrowed thin behind the glint of his glasses. “What, have I not been giving my precious baby sister enough attention? Is taking all of Akiteru’s free time not enough for you?” 

It cuts, and he knows it does the moment his lips form the shape of Akiteru’s name, when your eyes blow wide and then become glassy.

“Oh you are such a dick!” You hiss, shoving him back and he goes, both shocked at the sight of your tears and the vitriol he had just spit in your direction. 

It wouldn’t be clear to anyone on the outside looking in, but Kei has doted on you since you were a baby. In his own way, with silent affection that nobody but family could pick up on. Always saving the best parts of a dessert for you, finding the last snack in a box and taking it to your room so someone else couldn’t get it first, snatching your homework from the dining room table and going over the answers to make sure you got everything right. 

Even with the distance, the exhaustion, the stress of growing into a body that felt too big to fit him, he loved you, it just got muddled along the way with the pile-up of everything else. Never the breadth of mind to spare a thought for how his reclusiveness might’ve pushed you away. 

The apology is locked behind his tongue, you can almost see it, the way his eyes turn mournful in a way only you could recognize, but you see his lips press thin to keep the ‘sorry’ from tumbling out, and it only fans the flames of your hurt, your anger. 

You push past him with the glare of tears in your eyes, aching with it, your heart like a hot iron in your chest. It burns, it burns. And he does nothing to put it out. 

The rest of the walk is bitterly silent, too much distance between you, and the lingering hope you’d tried so hard to stifle withers. 

–

Against all assumed odds, your day does get better from there. 

Some of your friends from Amemaru are in your class, so you have a small group to immerse yourself in and to help you forget your earlier spat. They keep you distracted, and you’re so busy trying to retain the layout of the building that you don’t have much time to think about everything else. There’s too much new, too many things to learn and new faces that are so much older than those that you’re used to seeing. The teachers are patient when you stop to ask for directions, and there are already clubs being advertised by the time you go to eat lunch.  

It’s so busy. 

You run into Kei only once in the hallways, with his headphones on and a familiar figure at his side. Yamaguchi. 

He perks up at the sight of you, and you can’t fight back a smile when he swoops across the hallway to greet you. 

“Tadashi!” You crow, arms looping around his neck as nearly slams into you with a breathy laugh. You squeeze him, the soft scent of vanilla in his clothes is comforting, familiar. As busy as Kei, you don’t get to see him often either, but it’s always nice when he stops by to visit. 

“Hey! I’m sorry I wasn’t there to walk with you this morning, glad you made it here safe.” He grins down at you, bright-eyed and beaming. He’s grown his hair out since you last saw him, half of it pulled back out of his face with a clip, freckles darker and plentiful like constellations on his cheeks.

“S’ok, you can walk with me instead next time.” You ignore the narrowed eyes of your brother, the way he slinks up behind Tadashi and towers over you both with that familiar grumpy scowl, silent if not for the way his face screams ‘you will not be walking with my sister.’  

“How is your first day going?” Tadashi pokes gently, seemingly aware of the tension and carefully trying to maneuver around it. “Do you need any help getting around? We have some time before–” 

You wave him off, smile a touch wry. “I’ve been asking around for directions, you don’t have to waste time helping me. Thanks, though.” 

Tadashi frowns, lips pursed a little as he gently flicks your forehead. “It’s not a waste.” He points out, soft. “Let us know if you need anything, it's what we’re here for.” 

Your smile wobbles, something shaky, and you can see the alarm in both of their faces before you’re turning away. “Yeah.” 

It’s short and curt, and you know Tadashi deserves better than a flimsy response like that, but you can’t think with Kei’s eyes on you like this, not with the venom in his voice still so clearly etched into your mind

Fingers curl around your wrist, long and lithe, but Kei doesn’t speak. He holds you in place, words heavy on his tongue but refusing to come out, and he doesn’t fight it when you break away. 

– 

You hate that he’s paying more attention, now. 

Ever since he figured out that you were mad at him, that you’ve been mad at him, he’s been more present in your daily life. Instead of staying holed up in his room, he’ll study in the kitchen with you. When Akiteru comes home to visit, he’ll venture out into the living room and begrudgingly talk shop with him about volleyball while you stay curled up on the couch listening. It’s a development your mother is pleased with, cooing over how happy she is that Kei is around more and that you’re getting along again. 

But you’re determined not to give in, petty and spiteful and ultimately, too hurt to accept the bare minimum. 

He’s getting frustrated, you can tell, that you still treat him as coldly and distantly as always. It had never bothered him before when he wasn’t around to realize it, throwing himself into books or late-night practices that would end with him coming home long after you were in bed. He never had to see the results of your deteriorating relationship, always turning away before your face could fall, always pulling on his headphones just before your voice could crack.  

Before the game against Shiratorizawa in his first year, he had still made time for you. Back when he was trying to pretend that he didn’t care about his progress, about his performance in a temporary club. You had hated it, then, hated that he would downplay his passion in favor of something safe and secure, hated that he was so quick to give up on himself for fear of getting hurt. 

That single block had changed everything for him. You even got to watch firsthand as it happened, with Akiteru bawling on the ground floor harassing some poor security guard about his little brother, you screaming in the stands even though he would certainly kill you if he knew. Kei fell in love with volleyball, he let himself fall in love with volleyball. 

And after that, he gave it everything, dedicating all of himself to the sport that consumed him, that flamed his passion, and he had to spend every free moment outside of that with his face in a book to ensure he didn’t fall behind in his studies. Less time spent with you on the couch, watching nature documentaries just so he could tell you all about how things had evolved compared to prehistoric eras, no more late nights where you would sneak into his room and read on his bed while he played games on a handheld beside you. He never had time. 

You love him, love that he’s finally letting himself be passionate about something, you just wish that it hadn’t come at the expense of your relationship with him. 

It took him over three years to finally realize that you were hurting, only when he was forced to see it firsthand, when you could no longer bite your tongue. Your pride won’t let you cave so easily. 

He knows, though. Kei knows better than anyone how to soften you, how to manage your moods. 

It starts small and unobtrusive, knowing you need to be warmed up to larger shows of affection when you’re feeling defensive and cornered. 

He brings home snacks for you, on the days when his practice runs longer. 

The first one is a surprise, a small knock at your door that you answer offhand, thinking it’s just mom. You don’t know how to feel when Kei walks in instead, hair still wet from his shower, glasses missing, changed out of his uniform into dark blue pajamas. 

Wordless, he comes over and sets a paper bag down on your desk, half-torn sticker from a nearby cafe on the side. Waiting, then, almost uncertainly, eyes watching for your reaction. 

When you don’t give him one beyond a tilt of your head and a small ‘hey, thanks.’ his brow furrows, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he shifts in place, agitated. 

He leaves, door clicking quietly behind him, and you pull the bag into your lap to peer inside. A warm apple pastry, significantly less warm you imagine than when he got it. An effort, clearly, but you only roll your eyes and wonder if he really thought buying you a dessert would make up for it. 

Apparently not, as it becomes a semi-regular occurrence. At first you would eat the treats with little to no problem, waiting to see if maybe he’d give up and stop buying you things that you clearly don’t appreciate. 

It escalates instead. 

He comes home earlier one day, finds you sprawled on the couch with a movie playing quietly in the background, and goes to drop his things off in his room before joining you. 

When he stops to stand near where your head is propped up by a throw pillow, you crane your head back to squint up at him. 

“What? Dinner is in the fridge, mom made kimchi-jjigae.” 

He scowls, entirely heatless, and moves towards the other end of the couch, lifting your legs so he can sit and then letting them fall back in his lap. You go rigid in your spot, bringing your knees up to your chest to get out of his space, but his fingers curl tight over your calves and keep you there, long and lithe and rough with calluses.

His fingertips ghost over your ankle, such a subtle caress that it almost makes you gasp. Your skin prickles, flushed with heat as you press your hands together and tuck them beneath your head, trying to focus on the movie and not the feeling of his hands on you.  

He skims the ridge up his knuckles up your calf, a long, slow drag that beckons you to stretch out, to relax, but you remain a coiled ball of anxiety for the rest of the movie. 

And somehow that turns into another weird semi-routine. It’s not often he gets home from practice early enough that you haven’t already gone to bed, but when he can he’ll sit with you like that. 

Neither of you talk, he doesn’t force you to break the silence but there are times when you can’t avoid it, no matter how much you wish you could. 

Unfortunately, Kei is better at taking notes than you are, so you have to go to him for help when you realize the notes you did take don’t actually help when you need to study. 

That’s the worst, when there’s no one left to turn to because mom doesn’t speak much English and Tadashi knows about as much as you, even in his third year. Kei is the only option you have. 

He doesn’t hold it over you, like you’d expect. When you shuffle up to his room with your pride squeezed into a locked box, knocking at his door with your textbooks in hand. He lets you in, lets you sit on his bed while he’s in his computer chair, and he helps you go through the vocabulary you don’t understand. He’s patient with you, shows you where you went wrong in your notetaking and he’s so casual about it even while you’re awkward and stiff and nervous. He doesn’t complain when you leave his room without thanking him, and he doesn’t complain when you come back a week later for the same thing. 

You’re waiting for that smug little smile, that gleam in his eyes that means he thinks he’s won something, but it never shows. Kei, who has never been one to take things slow with you, is patient in the way he coaxes you back to him, even when it’s clear that he’s getting frustrated. 

The stalemate breaks when he finds out you’ve started spending less time with Akiteru, though. 

Even though you know it was just Kei being petty, his comment about you taking all of your older brother’s time stung, and you haven’t quite been able to stop thinking about it.

So you stopped reaching out. Fewer daily calls, no more asking him to come over every weekend, and apparently that news made it back to Kei when Akiteru expressed his concern that something was happening to you at school. You never told him about the fight on your first day.

Kei is the only one who understands the correlation, knows it was his own spiteful words that caused you to withdraw. Seclusion doesn’t suit you, he thinks. Not like it suits him. 

–

The sharp crack of your door as it’s yanked open startles you, heart in your throat as your book tumbles over the edge of your bed. You blink up at the glowering figure in your doorway, shocked at the intensity of his frustration and immediately clamming up, drawn in tight as you glare simply as though that will stop you getting hurt by whatever he’s about to say. 

Initially, your first thought is that he’s finally gotten fed up with your attitude, and now he’s come to yell at you and tell you to stop being such a brat. You brace for it, chin lifted high with a false confidence you do not feel, readying yourself with every possible complaint you’ve saved up ever since that first day where you knocked on your big brother’s door and asked him to come out and spend time with you, only to be told to go away. 

“Akiteru is worried.” 

You deflate, like a balloon poked with scissors, and roll onto your side to face the wall. “I’ll call ‘im.” You mumble, if only to get him out of your room. 

It doesn’t work, and he comes closer, quiet as he walks across your floor to sit beside you, mattress dipping beneath his weight. 

After a beat, he sighs. “I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, water welling up, catching on your lashes. “No you aren’t.” 

“I am.” He insists, crawling fully into the bed with you, long body tucked around your own as he curls himself against your back. Finally broken, then. “I know why you’re upset, sorry it took me so long to realize.” He pauses, and, softer– “Shouldn’t have taken you snapping at me to notice you were hurting.” 

“It shouldn’t have.” You agree, bitter, feeling his arm slip around your middle to pull you back into his chest. 

This is new, Kei even as a kid has never been very physically affectionate. You can feel his heart, the way it's pounding against your shoulder blade, his fingers trembling as they curl into your shirt. His knees press in behind yours, your body curving further as he forces you into a ball. A side of him you’re not supposed to see, your big brother being vulnerable. 

“I’m sorry.” He repeats, mouth at the nape of your neck, holding you even tighter. 

Your mouth is dry, heart suddenly synced with his, feeling strangely like a line is being crossed that you hadn’t even known was drawn in the first place. His hand splays wide over your belly, palm warm as it presses you somehow even closer, bigger than you remember, different. 

“What will it take for you to forgive me?” He asks, nosing into your hair, you can almost feel the way his lips twitch into a smile. “I’m already buying you dessert almost every day, do you want more? Want me to pick up your favorite dinner too?”

His fingers curve inwards, then, and you realize a second too late what his plan is. 

You’re helplessly pinned against him when he starts to tickle you, free hand clapping over your mouth to muffle the way you shriek at the first twitchy pass of his fingertips, shoving your shirt up so the cold digits feather over your bare skin. You kick and twist and lick a wet stripe up the hand over your mouth, but he’s wholly undeterred, relentless. 

“Such a brat, wouldn’t even talk to me about how upset you were, had to wait until I finally caught on, huh? So petty.” He’s mocking you now, one heavy leg pressing both of yours down when you try to kick away from him again, unperturbed by the way you try to mouth at his hand in an attempt to bite. 

It’s unbearable, the way his fingers dapple over your ribcage, purposefully needling at you until you’re squealing and tears are spilling down your cheeks, wrenching your mouth away from his wet palm to suck in a breath, nearly sobbing with the cackle of your laughter. It devolves quickly into wheezing, breath stuck in your throat, the resistance melting away as you struggle for air.

It’s only then that he stops, smoothing his hand up and down your side as if to ease the torture he just put you through, soothing you while you slowly calm down. 

Like an emotional release, you slump into him, murmuring quietly when he tucks his face against your neck again, breathing with him pressed behind you. 

“You’re a dick.” You mutter, voice raspy. 

He sighs, soft and slow, nodding. “I know.” 

“I’m still mad at you.” 

“I know.” 

Your eyes water, and he turns you around, finding you pliable now that the ice has been shattered. You curl your hands into the space between you as he guides you into his arms properly, legs tangled together, your face tucked against his neck while he cups the back of your head to keep you there. 

“Don’t want your pity.” You mutter, blinking back tears as the scent of him bleeds into your clothes, his bare skin hot as your cheek presses against his collar bones. It’s uncomfortable, but you missed him, missed this. You’ve been so prickly for so long that you haven’t let anyone else come close. 

He snorts, exhaling a fondly exasperated breath that ruffles your hair. “It’s not pity, quit with that.” He squeezes you once, tight until you squawk in protest, then teases– “When did my baby sister get so stubborn?” 

His fingers twitch traitorously close to your stomach, and you hiss and burrow yourself closer, wrapping yourself around him and pressing into the cradle of his body so he can’t get to your ticklish spots. His chuckle is low, vibrating through his chest, and he returns to rubbing your back, pushing inward at the small of it to keep you close, almost like he needs the comfort as much as you do. 

Sometimes Kei makes it easy to forget that he has a different way of wanting, of needing. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might miss you too, but after so much time that he might not know how to reach out as you grew in his absence.

You soften, unwillingly, as he buries himself against you, walls finally cracking. You can feel it in how tight he holds you, the way he presses his nose into your hair and breathes, warm hands stroking from the base of your spine to your shoulder blades, just touching you, feeling you. 

“Missed you.” You murmur, barely a whisper. 

He sighs, warm against your throat, and curls himself over you a little more. It’s not out loud, the way he tells you, he can never say it out loud. But, he does tell you that he missed you too in how he holds you ‘till you fall asleep, the way he strokes your hair with gentle fingers careful not to tug or snag, and the way he’s so careful to keep his hips from rocking into you when he starts to thicken and twitch against his thigh. You don’t get to see the shame on his face, the twist to his brow, the grit to his jaw as he keeps himself in check, furious at himself for the shocking intensity of these feelings. It’s just that–

He just–

He just loves you a lot. 

–

Kei doesn’t find much more time to come around other than what he already had, but he texts you more. Small comments between classes. He’ll tell you to fix your skirt or your tie even when he hasn’t even seen you in the halls, just to make you double check because he knows it makes you pissy. During lunch he swings by your room to make sure you’re eating, never longer than it takes to poke his head in, find you seated with your friends, and then leave. 

You start going to his games again, at first secretly because he’d told you and Akiteru not to come, but he caught you one too many times trying to sneak away after, and gave up on stopping you.

The wins are easy, when he comes off the court sweaty and breathless but smiling with his eyes in his own way, when he catches you in his arms as you hurl yourself at him directly from the sidelines. 

The losses are harder, when he’s prickly and sharp, when he doesn’t want anyone to come too close and you have to approach him gently, when he’s alone, and only then can you try to make an attempt at offering him any sort of comfort. 

It’s a year that goes by too quickly, easily, as you settle into the life of a high school student. Kei helps you study for your tests, even gives you his old notes to use and sits with you in your room while studying for his own. He’s preparing for graduation, for college, and you still have two more years to go. 

He’s taller, broad, no longer so lanky and lithe. He gets more attention from the girls in other classes, girls in your classes, and you have to adjust to a new problem. 

People asking for you to get closer to your brother. A star on the volleyball team, and one of the tallest guys in the whole school. People always noticed, but now they have another way to get to him other than through Tadashi. 

The first time it happens, you’re almost too baffled to react, when you’re approached by a second year with pretty dark hair and a sweet smile. Shyly, scuffing her shoe across the tile floor with her hands pressed together, she asks you if you would be willing to give her Kei’s number so she can ask him out. 

You’re so startled that you laugh. A bit loud, a bit mean, maybe, but thinking of the face he’d make after receiving her text nearly puts you into hysterics. 

“Try asking him directly.” You suggest, after catching your breath and drying your eyes. “He’s not the type to like someone sneaking around like that, asking for his number behind his back would just put him off.” 

Her face flushes red, but you’re too busy snickering as you wander towards the front gate where Kei is waiting to walk you home, you don’t see her embarrassment or take note of the harshness of your words. 

You’re grinning when you walk up to him, and he’s immediately wary. 

“What?” He eyes you suspiciously, automatic as he reaches out to relieve you of your school bag. 

Your grin widens, all teeth like a shark. “A girl tried to use me to ask you out.” 

He blanches, brow pinched low as his nose scrunches up. “Seriously?” 

You nod, starting off down the sidewalk with your hands tucked into your skirt pockets. “Wanted me to give her your number, I told her to just ask you directly since it would be kinda weird to do that behind someone's back.” You shrug, kicking at a loose rock to send it skipping down the pavement. “Don’t you ever give some random person my number, I’ll kill you.” 

Kei scoffs, shoulder checking you and smirking when it nearly sends you careening dramatically off to the side, righting you with a hand at your elbow. “I wouldn’t even without you threatening me, you’re not that scary.” 

“Say that when I break into your room in the middle of the night, and stand over your bed like the grudge.” You mutter, low beneath your breath, ignoring the way he laughs out loud at your quiet threat. It’s a cheery sound, one you usually only get to hear when he’s being mean spirited to other people. 

He pulls at you, then, tucking you roughly beneath his arm so he can drag you along in an attempt to get home quicker, chucking quietly beneath his breath and telling you that– “next time that happens, just tell them I said no. I wouldn’t want to make my baby sister jealous.”

You’re sure that there will not even be a next time. Your brother might objectively be attractive, but he’s mean when he’s comfortable, pokes and pulls and teases and he grins when you get so mad at him that your eyes water.

He’s not hard to love, but he’s sure as hell hard to like. 

–

So of course, when it happens again, you’re far less amused. 

A crowd of girls who stop you during lunch while you’re at the vending machines to buy a snack. They press in close, blocking your exit so your back is to the wall, and they ask with sickly sweet smiles if Kei has a girlfriend.

You tell them yes, and they ask you who, which is the second red flag you need to get the hell out. They pout when you try to slip between them, but follow when you make to go down the hall, trying to weasel personal information out of you until one of Kei’s teammates, Hinata, sees you and breaks through the crowd to say hi. 

It’s evident by the cautious glint in his eyes that it’s not as accidental an intervention as it appears, taking quick stock of the situation and dragging you out before it can spiral.

And every time after that, you just get more and more annoyed. Your responses are shorter, clipped, final exams are rapidly approaching and you only have so much time with Kei to study while he’s preparing to go to nationals. Wasting time being accosted in the hallways after school when you could be going home is not ideal, and you’re fed up with it. 

So after school, once you’re safely inside his bedroom, you throw your bag onto his bed. “You need to get a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or just a romantic partner in general.” 

He chokes on his water, staring at you with wide eyes as it dribbles down his chin, open-mouthed and his brows arched high. “What?”

You flop down on his bed, dragging your bag to your side so you can rifle through it for your notes. “I’m tired of people harassing me about getting in your pants, has this always been a thing or did you just get popular this year?” You scoff, sitting up and throwing him the notebook he’d left with your bag. It hits him in the chest and falls to the floor, with him making no attempt to catch it. 

His eyes narrow. “People are still bothering you?” 

Another long, drawn out groan. “Different every time, I think. They’re starting to blur together. I just started making stuff up and even that wasn’t enough.” You grin, then, a little teasing as you flutter your lashes at him. “You’re a pretty face, sure, but that personality is so awful I bet it would take one conversation before they run for the hills. Maybe I should just start sending them to you directly so they leave me alone.” 

“Don’t you dare.” He joins you on the bed, reluctantly and with a pointed glare, and sits shoulder to shoulder with you so he can knock into you gently from the side. Books spread out, he passes your notes to you and starts on his own, already tuning you out for whatever retort you might have.

It’s an unnecessary demand, you wouldn’t really do that to him anyway. Kei gets overstimulated easily in social situations, and as annoying as he is, you handle people much better. If you have to endure the brunt of this so he doesn’t have to, you will, but he better be willing to listen to you complain about it. 

He says his thanks afterwards, after you’ve half drifted off while writing out equations with too many steps. You slump against him, head resting against his bicep, and he shifts to let you fall into his chest instead, arm wrapping around your shoulders to draw you in. He’s still reading, having more to go over in his curriculum than you do, but it’s easier with the comfort of you nearby. He says his thanks in the kiss he presses to your hair, the way he carefully straightens out your legs so they aren’t sore by the time you get up, how finally, late in the night, he tucks you into his own bed, and rolls out his futon to sleep on the floor. 

A quiet type of love, subtle, something that seeps into your bones down to the marrow, the way he loves you. From behind, protective in his silence, the looming of his presence and the sharpness of his glare. From afar, watching through the glass of a window as you’re dragged along by your friends to sit outside, watching as you bathe in the sun and laugh, making memories with those close to you all while he watches from a classroom, unknowingly sharing in those memories with you. 

He loves you from the floor, curled up with his teeth sinking into the fluff of his pillow, hand cupped loose between his legs and trying so hard to resist the temptation to relieve the ache there. He loves you in how he holds himself back. 

If anyone asked about the percentage of effort that Tsukishima Kei puts into different things, there would be a few categories. Volleyball, which gets a hundred percent of his effort about half of the time. His education, which gets a hundred percent for the other half of his time. 

And the last category would be the effort in which Kei puts into loving you like a normal brother should, a hundred percent of his complete, undivided focus, for a hundred and one percent of the time. He loves you the way that is clean, normal, accepted, and he doesn’t waver.

No matter the temptation. Not when he rubs his thumb against your bottom lip to chase away the remnants of a dessert, telling himself that it’s because it’s his job as your brother to keep you from making a mess of yourself. Not because he wants to touch you, needs to touch you. 

Not when you’re sitting next to him to watch a movie and he’s overthinking putting his arm around you. Akiteru does it, you do it, and it would be normal if it wasn’t him, but he wants to. 

And he shouldn’t, because if he lets himself have even that much, he’ll never stop wanting more. 

So he’ll play the role he was given. Born to be your family, he thinks fate just fucked up by letting him love you the way he does. He resigns himself to the part of ‘big brother Kei,’ a name that will stick to him like tar for the rest of his life. 

–

You pass with high marks on your exams, so high that your mother insists on taking you all out for a nice dinner. 

Honestly, you’d be happy to celebrate by sleeping in, but it gives mom an excuse to dress nice and she’s been working hard lately to give you and Kei the chance to focus on studying, you think this might be just as much for her as it is for you.

You dress up a little, slacks and a nice shirt, warm-pressed and unbuttoned low to the hollow of your throat. Kei matches you, accidentally, though his shirt is a dark green. You grin at him, unperturbed when he rolls his eyes and goes downstairs. 

“Akiteru is waiting for us there, but he’ll be coming home with us.” Mom hums, slipping in a pair of earrings that sparkle, her hair loosely curled with a dusting of blush high on her cheeks. 

Your snarky grin softens, watching her twist in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway, where Kei comes up from behind her and holds her hair out of the way so she can actually snap the piercing shut. 

“Thank you, dear.” She pats him once on the shoulder, having to tilt her head back just to look up at him properly. “I swear, you get taller every time I turn around.” She remarks, dry, before reaching for her purse on the couch. 

“I can whack him in the kneecaps, might knock him down by a foot or two.” You pretend not to notice as he whips around to face you, you can practically hear his sharp retort already so you hurry to follow your mom as she heads out to the car, Kei right behind, grumbling beneath his breath. 

Mom lets you pick the music that plays during the drive, which is moot because Kei has his earbuds in and she’ll listen to anything, but you take the chance to show her a few new songs on your phone that you’d found recently, and she shimmies a little in her seat with you in a makeshift dance as you lip sync along to each one. 

It’s nice, playful, you’ve been so high-strung about tests and notes that you haven’t been able to let loose much, and as you catch the smile curling on your mom’s mouth and hear the quiet, muffled chuckles from your brother in the seat behind you, you finally feel like the hard part is over. Safe to let down your guard, to stop dreading the next incoming paper or assignment due. 

Akiteru is indeed waiting for you, not inside like you expect, but out in the parking lot with a bright smile splitting across his face. The car has barely rolled to a stop before he’s opening the door, looping his arms around you to pull you in for a hug. 

You’re laughing, half-squealing as he drags you out of your seat and practically bends his spine to wrap himself around you. “I’m so proud!!” He chokes, face wet with tears even though he’d already cried for half an hour when you first called to tell him you passed everything with top marks. 

“You already said that.” Kei intones, slowly unfolding himself from the back and straightening up, grimacing as he rubs the side of his neck. “A lot, actually.” 

“And he’ll say it again, I’m sure.” Mom agrees, sidling up to the three of you with her phone out for pictures. Akiteru keeps you pinned against his side before you can try to break away, his other arm stretching out to wave Kei closer. 

After a clear conflict of interests, the second sibling finally joins the group hug, long arm wrapped around Akiteru’s back so his hand hovers over the base of your spine, warm through the thin material of your button down. 

Once she’s gotten her fill of taking pictures, you take the phone from her and then pull her in, flipping the camera around and stretching your arm out to fit the four of you in the frame. Mom laughs, breathy, and smiles big when you take the shot, Akiteru pressing in close so his chin is on your shoulder, Kei in the background hovering like a gargoyle. 

You snicker, and then hand the phone back after sending a copy of it to yourself for later. 

The restaurant is nice, if a little pricier than you’re used to, you find yourself sticking close to Akiteru as you’re guided to a table. He smiles down at you, a hand on your shoulder that squeezes when you get too tense, reminding you silently to ease up. 

With you and Akiteru on one side, Kei and mom on the other, you’re tucked securely against the wall with a menu propped up over your face to hide the way your eyes blink heavy with fatigue. 

They tease you when you inevitably doze off at the table, nearly face planting the glass of bubbly juice that Kei had ordered for you because you hadn’t responded when the waiter asked. 

Dinner is mainly spent with Akiteru catching you all up on various things since you and Kei have been buried in books, and mom prefers to just listen while she eats. There’s the gentle clink of glass and ceramic as dishes are passed around, a bowl of warm rice in your hands that smells a little floral, a little sweet.

Kei doesn’t complain when you steal the last of his tempura, but he’s quick to get revenge in the form of scooping up the final few bites of your cake while you’re distracted with your drink. You kick at him beneath the table, Akiteru quietly scolds you, and your mom watches with a serene smile on her face, chin in hand while the three of you bicker until it’s time to leave.  

So Akiteru can sit up front with mom, you slide into the back seat with Kei. Full and happy, you settle in with no complaints. 

And when he shifts, leans a little closer and lifts his arm in a silent invitation, you take it happily and curl up against his side. He rests his head atop of yours when you lower it to his shoulder, oddly affectionate, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin at the bend of your elbow. 

He lets you cuddle in close, silent even when you keep moving around and knock the glasses from his face, he simply puts them aside and presses his cheek to crown of your head. 

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep like that, and it takes even less time for your mother to speak up, barely a whisper. 

“Have you told her yet? About college?” 

A soft, wistful sigh. “Not yet.” 

Akiteru tsks quietly, a disapproving and worried frown reflected back in the rearview mirror. “You know she won’t like finding out at the last minute that you’re leaving. It will be easier if you tell her before you have to go” He gives a rueful smile, reminiscing. “It’s always worse when your little sibling finds out you’ve been hiding something from them, even more if they find out from somewhere other than you.” 

He knows. Akiteru knows that he knows, too. But as Kei looks down at you, your hand fisted in the dark material of his slacks, straining against the restrictive hold of the seat belt just to lean into him, he knows that this is different. More than a brother just leaving his sister at home. 

It hurts so much more, in too many ways that it shouldn’t. 

–

Karasuno vs. Itachiyama. 

Every scored point, no matter the side, feels like a kick to the gut. You’re on edge, hands gripping hot metal rails until your fingers ache as you watch the game from the stands. 

If they win this match, they’ll only have two more until they win Nationals. You can see it in every one of them, how they chase after each wayward ball as though their literal life hinges on it. Hinata is a monster, everywhere on the court that he can be, boundless energy that seems to push the rest of his team on even when they want to collapse. Kageyama is pushed further, dragged by the energy of their decoy, exhausted but still at the peak of his game. Tadashi, the captain, a sturdy presence that eases the younger members of their team, Yachi on the sidelines cheering until surely her throat is hoarse. 

Kei. Their strategy, controlling the moves of his spikers to manipulate the other side, chasing after the ball until there’s nowhere left for it to go. Giving it his all.

You think back to the beginning, when you were still waddling beside your mother as she brought you to your big brother's first middle school game. Deceptively uncaring, you could see beneath the facade even then, the tiniest grit to his jaw as he pushed himself to do better, to be better with every missed block. 

Now it’s a face he wears openly, the raw determination to be faster, stronger, no longer locked behind a mask of disinterest. He thrives, he flies. 

They lose. 

Ranked third in the nation, still such a long way from where they started, and yet still not enough. They won’t get to be on the court the longest. 

Kei is inconsolable. Impassive, stone-faced as they load up the van for the drive back to Karasuno. He doesn’t look at you, but you’ve come to know what to expect for his losses. 

You greet everyone else first, taking a red-faced Hinata into your arms, rubbing between Kageyama’s shoulder blades while he hunches over, fists to his eyes, lips pulled between his teeth.

The loss gets harder the higher they climb, the fall sharper, more lethal. To come so far and still fail is the most exquisite kind of agony. 

Tadashi wears a confident smile, comforting the second and first years while assuring them that next year, they’ll make it even further. His eyes are red-rimmed, face a little puffy, and you know how badly he wishes that this year they’d be going even further. 

Kei gives you nothing, barely a tilt of his head in your direction before he’s on the bus, headphones up and music loud. You stay there until the rest of the team joins him, waving from the parking lot as they begin the ride home, and you trudge back to the front of the stadium to meet up with Akiteru. It’s a quiet drive, both of you understanding in different ways the pain your brother is going through right now. 

He waits until you’re in the driveway to speak. 

“He won’t let me comfort him.” A soft beginning, not so pained as it used to be. “I’ll leave him to you, okay? Leave everything else to me, just be there for him.” 

“Always.” You croak, because there’s not a single other thing you could imagine doing, not while Kei needs you.  

He hugs you tight, grasping at the back of your head and pressing his forehead to yours with a shaky sigh. Something unspoken, soft, a secret held back, before he’s giving you a chaste kiss to the temple and shooing you out of the car so he can go hunting for Kei’s favorite dessert at so late an hour. 

You go to your room first, changing into pajamas and plugging your phone in to charge, then you move to Kei’s. Crawling onto his bed, you tuck yourself beneath his covers and wait, face buried in his pillow and head fuzzy with his scent. 

It’s no real surprise that you end up dozing off, only awoken by the quiet click of the door as it's pushed shut. The lights are still off, but you can hear him, the wet, heavy sound of his breathing, choked like his throat is too tight, clogged with emotions. He drops his things, falls to his knees on the mattress, searching blindly, then you’re up and moving towards him. 

He sobs into your neck, a broken sound, as you pull him back and lock your arms around him. Kei curls into you, hard shudders that shake him no matter how tightly you squeeze. He clings to you, hands at your sides, fingers curling against your ribs and tugging on your shirt to coax you closer. 

You weren’t prepared for this kind of reaction. 

At the most, he’s let you hold him a little while he tries to distract himself by doing something else, or he sits with you listening to music while you do homework. Tense and always pained with the loss, but more at ease in your company. Never this open, never this raw, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him cry before. 

You wrap yourself around him as much as you can, slotting your leg between his to press in close, pushing forward into the dip he creates as he bends. It’s a stretch, almost uncomfortable, but you feel the way he shivers and hugs onto you tighter as you move, pressing you in with a hand at your waist until you’re fully entwined. 

Another sharp, ragged sob, lips wet against your collar as he tries to muffle it, tries to keep himself quiet, contained. 

You coo at him, a hand between his shoulder blades, the other at the back of his head, fingers threading through the hair at his nape to keep him from pulling away in shame. It’s not a form of comfort you’re used to offering, Akiteru was never the type to let you see him in any other state than happy when growing up, and Kei was more than content to keep most of his emotions locked away, spurning most forms of physical affection. This is new, uncharted territory, even touchy as you are, Kei is only ever willing to endure so much before pushing you away. 

He doesn’t this time, though. He stays in your arms and cries until he can’t, and then he stays wrapped up in you until he falls asleep. Breaths evened out, a slackened grip, he nuzzles into your neck and makes a soft, sleepy sort of hum that nearly has you jaw-dropped and gasping. 

He fell asleep on you, wrapped in your arms, beneath the covers of his bed with tears still drying on his cheeks. Kei did. 

You choke back a sob of your own, locking it behind your teeth as you press your lips to his hair, shocked at the intensity of your feelings, the tightness in your chest that eases like a blooming flower, petals unfurled. 

Is it normal to feel so strongly about a sport you’re only interested in because of your brother, you wonder, with your hands buried in his hair to scratch slow circles into his scalp. Would you have cried this hard at a loss for Akiteru, a more traitorous part of your brain wonders next. 

–

The next morning is…strange. 

You wake up pressed between Kei’s arms, your leg cocked over his hip with one of his hands cupping the back of your head, squishing your cheek into his chest. Somewhere along the night he’d shifted, apparently, and twisted around to clutch at you like a pillow. The blankets are low and tangled, cold air raising the hair along your arms. You whine quietly and try to squirm away, but his clingy embrace tightens, bringing you closer, his body bowing around you as he curls inwards. 

“Kei…” Your voice is a little raspy, throat dry, and he lets out a soft groan in reply, fingers digging tight into your back. 

“Shut up.” He grunts, just as hoarse, more so after his crying last night. 

“Lemme up…’m thirsty.” 

“So?” 

You whine louder, pushing against his chest, trying to pry yourself away but he’s already stronger than you on a bad day, let alone when you’ve just woken up and your body is still sleepy. “Please?” 

He stiffens a little, head craned back to squint down at you, bangs falling in his eyes. 

Thoughtlessly, you wriggle a hand free from the tight press between your bodies and reach to brush the hair from his face, fingers combing through and moving to tuck it behind his ear. Too short for that, it falls back into its original place. “You should ask mom to trim your hair.” 

He watches you through sleepy eyes, half-lidded, a streak of light cutting across his face from between his blinds. When your fingertips brush over his skin, his lips part, a soundless sigh before his throat bobs with a weak swallow. “Okay.” He murmurs, gaze far away. 

“Could dye it, too. I think you’d look good with ginger hair.” 

Another soft hum, contemplative. “Okay.” 

Your smile widens, and his head tilts with it, a dreamy expression that you’ve never seen on him before. “You’re just agreeing with everything I say, aren’t you, Kei?” 

His lashes flutter at the way you say his name, dipping low against flushing cheeks, you see his lips threaten to twitch into a smile. “Okay.” 

You can’t stifle your laughter, this time. A sharp bark of a cackle, you slap a hand over your mouth and try to turn away so you aren't laughing directly into his face. That wakes him up quickly, eyes narrowed sharp as he drops his arms from around you like lead, scowl already tugging at his lips. 

“You’re too loud.” 

You snort, rolling away now that he’s finally done holding you hostage, having to practically crawl over him to get off of the bed. “Go back to sleep, then. Gonna make breakfast.” 

Despite the way he huffs and quietly mutters, he follows you down to the kitchen, still dressed in his uniform from last night. He’s uncharacteristically clingy, in a way. He hovers while you look around for what to make, just behind you or off to the side, watching with eyes still murky with sleep. It hasn’t hit him yet that he left his glasses upstairs, so he’s squinting in order to see you clearly. 

As you lean down to look into the fridge, you find a pretty plastic container with a whole strawberry cake inside. A little sticky note on the top reads– Mom and I are going shopping for the day, be back later! 

–Akiteru

Then, below that– I left you some money for pizza in the silverware drawer, love you! 

-Mom

You coo softly as you pull out the container, turning to Kei with a smile. “Cake for breakfast?” 

He stares at you, eyes dipping from your face to the cake in your hands, then back up. “That sounds like a horrible idea.” 

You bump your hip against him and carry it over to the counter, popping the top off and reaching for a clean knife. “Suit yourself, more for me.” 

He sounds significantly more awake now. “You’re not eating that entire thing?” He comes up behind you, leaning over your shoulder to watch as you cut a large slice out of the pretty dessert. 

“Why not? There’s nobody I gotta share it with. Certainly not my most favorite big brother.” You sweeten your voice, sticky like frosting, and he scoffs, pushing at your back so you bump into the counter. 

“Whatever, cut me a piece too.” He slinks away back towards the fridge, long arms stretching up to reach for a paper cup at the top. You cut an equal portion of cake for him as well, placing each on a paper plate so you don’t have any dishes to do later. 

As you pass him his plate, he passes you a glass of water, which you take with a short ‘thanks’ before swallowing a quick, cold mouthful. 

Bliss against your raw throat, you drink half of the glass before refilling it. Watching you, Kei pokes at his cake with a fork, eyes heavy with a strange sort of softness. His face is still a little red, puffy from the long hours of crying, but his shoulders don’t sag so much and he looks like he carries himself a little lighter, teasing you when you manage to get a little cream at the corner of your mouth. 

As his thumb grazes over your bottom lip, you look up at him with new eyes, a new light after last night. The touch lingers, heavier before he pulls away. 

You carry your cake into the living room to put on a movie, pleased when he joins you shortly after. Starting on opposite ends, as you finish your breakfast and set aside your plates, he lets you crawl between his legs and lay on his chest, sprawled together with his hand curving around the nape of your neck, fingers thick in your hair and circling your scalp. 

It amazes you to see him like this, open and blatant in his affection. Accepting as you cuddle close, not even putting up a fight when you poke fun at him during the end credits because it’s only then that he realizes he isn’t wearing his glasses. 

It’s a new side of Kei, of someone you’ve known your entire life. You think it makes you love him a little more, something sweet and nice. 

You think it makes you love him a little different. 

–

It’s a cold shock the day he leaves. 

Not even a week after graduation, you wake that morning to find cars outside and Kei’s friends in the house, helping him move his things. 

Hinata greets you kindly, cheerfully at so early an hour, while you stand in the hall gaping in your pajamas. “Hi, little Tsukishima!”

“Hi?” You blink, stepping back when he moves closer to you, and something registers in his eyes at the sight of you, uncertain and still clearly murky with sleep. He backs off. “What’re you doing here? Why do you have Kei’s stuff?” 

He mirrors your blink, cat-like. “We’re helping him move, he said he’d need some help driving his things to the apartment.” 

“Apartment?” You echo, stunned fully awake. “He’s moving?” 

Hinata freezes, just as Kei is coming up the stairs. While slow at first, the footsteps hasten when the sharp crack of your voice pitches even higher. He stumbles up to the top step, sweaty and clearly having been busy for longer than you’ve been awake. His face pales several shades when he first catches sight of you, the tears welling up in your eyes, the panicked look Hinata wears. “Fuck. Wait, don’t–” 

Twenty-two steps from one end of the hall to the other. Seventeen from the stairs to your room, it only takes Kei nine to reach you, choking on an apology that he’s never given you before. 

It only takes two for you to slam and lock the door. 

–

He doesn’t try to get you to come out for the rest of the day. His things have been packed, you hear him saying goodbye to mom downstairs, hear him come up to your room one more time to wait, leaning against the door but not saying a thing. You don’t open it. 

When he leaves, you scream. Muffled into your pillow, raw and angry, tears hot against your face. 

It shouldn’t be this way, you shouldn’t feel like he’s betrayed you by going away for college. It shouldn’t break your heart to think that Kei might be leaving you behind, you’re family.

But you do, and it does.  

–

Kei calls home often. 

More than you would have thought, actually. A surprisingly dutiful son. He checks in with mom every few days, asks about her work, about her friends, following up on whatever they happened to have talked about in the previous conversation. 

He asks about you. 

You know, because whenever you’re in the same room as her while she’s talking to him, her voice will soften considerably. Almost a whisper, and she’ll hunch down in her seat a little, or she’ll suddenly have to leave the room. 

Unlike most of her children, she’s terrible at hiding her emotions. You must get it from her. 

Which is why she’s worried, because it’s been easy for you. Easy to pretend like you aren’t hurting. Your summer is spent with your friends, or at the library. You visit the beach twice and buy a cactus to take care of. You make memories, you keep busy. 

He comes home once before you go back to school, Akiteru mentions it one night after he gets off of work. He tells you that Kei is coming home for a weekend, you write down the date and try not to feel guilty at the way he seems happy about it. 

The next day you schedule a sleepover with your best friend Kaoruko to get out of the house, and it's your second visit to the beach. She sits in the sand with you while you wade through the shallows and pick up crabs and anemones, laughs when she thinks you’re being weird and holds you when you break and begin to cry. He texts once, to let you know that he’s home, and calls the night before he leaves. 

You don’t answer. 

–

The start to your second year is quiet. You walk by yourself on your first day, phone buzzing with texts from Akiteru wishing you luck, and a single one from Kei telling you to be safe. 

You tell Akiteru that you’ll text him during lunch, and slip your phone into your locker. There are familiar faces that you find between classes, new students that you show to their homeroom along the way to your own, and already an influx of people advertising for clubs, just as early as last year. 

And life goes on. 

You find a balance, and mom has been good with helping you maintain it, already on her third go-around for moody teenagers. She knows when to let you break rules, when to be more firm, and how to gently push your boundaries without hurting you. Your rebellious phase doesn’t last long, though Akiteru still has the record for mama’s boy, you think. 

School is easy, in a way. You make friends, lose some, keep a precious few closer than ever. You argue with teachers, suffer through group projects, write a paper about your trips to the beach detailing all of the different kinds of fish you saw, you go to every volleyball match and text Kei for every win. 

That’s the first text you send him, after it all. Weeks of ignored messages, just for a few words from you to break his streak. 

You 7:84 PM 

We won the game. 

He already knew that Karasuno had won the match, one of his old teammates had texted him the moment they were off the court to let him know. What mattered was that it came from you, and it told him so much that he had desperately needed to know. 

That you haven’t deleted his number, that you still care enough to talk to him. That you’re still checking in with your friends from his old team, that he hasn’t ruined what little you liked about volleyball like Akiteru had with him. 

You don’t respond when he texts back, but he’s fine for now with just this. He can handle you being angry with him, could even endure it if you hated him, but not having you at all just does not feel like an option. 

Mom lets you get away with avoiding him on the holidays, though you know she doesn’t like it. You’ve only passed him once, briefly, catching him just as he rounded the corner as you were heading back into your room. His eyes had blown wide, a stutter in his step as he stumbled at the top of the stairs with your name on his lips. You cut it off quick by shutting your door. 

The hard edge of your anger has faded, but the hurt remains, and with it the confusion as to why it does. You compare it to Akiteru leaving for college, and can think of nothing to explain it other than Kei keeping the fact that he was moving away a secret. From you specifically. 

It lasts for too long, the silence, the ignored texts broken up only when you tell him that Karasuno won a game. It’s eating at both of you, but no matter how often Kei tries to reach out, you can never bring yourself to reciprocate. Too hurt, and too embarrassed that you are. 

Still, in tune with you as always, he has a way to break the stalemate yet again. 

For your birthday, he has a gift delivered that mom wraps up for you. A textbook for marine science, heavy and with notations lining the margins, something clearly used, clearly well-loved. And, beyond that, an envelope tucked just beneath the cover with tickets to a guided tour for a temporary museum exhibit on the Mariana Trench. They’ve been preemptively filled out with yours and your best friend’s names. 

You stare down at the book for a long time, fingers tracing the pages as you flip through them, and it hits you a mere twelve pages in that the scrawl is familiar. It’s clean and careful, precise, but there’s a little curl on the ends of some of his kanji that he picked up from you. It’s his handwriting. He doesn’t even like marine science, and he still– 

You call him crying, then. In the shower, sobbing, phone pressed to your wet cheek as you thank him and apologize for ignoring him for so long. He’s so soft, crooning at you to turn off the water until you’re done, talking to you while you try to catch your hiccup-y breath. 

He’s the last one to wish you happy birthday, an hour before midnight while you tuck yourself into bed with him still on the phone, he teases you when you sniffle too much and you threaten to hang up if he keeps making fun of you. 

He stays well after you fall asleep, phone pushed to the far side of his desk so the sounds of his keyboard don’t wake you up, music turned down so that it doesn’t completely stifle the steady sound of your breathing. 

Lighter than you’ve been since he left, you manage to sleep soundly through the night. More than that, he’s still on the phone when you wake up to tell you good morning. 

–

Halfway through the school year you become a manager for the volleyball team. You’re familiar with most of the boys already from when Kei and Tadashi were there, so you already have a good dynamic built that Coach Ukai asks you to use for keeping them in line. 

You don’t tell Kei, but he finds out from mom anyway, and when you call him next he teases you about missing him so much that you had to go and manage his old team for him. 

You hang up that call immediately, and ignore him twice when he tries to call back, only picking up on the third to hear his stifled laughter on the other end. You tell him that he makes fun of you too much, and he just replies that you deserve it. 

Secretly, you think he likes it, pleased in a strange way that you would take his former team under your wing after he left. 

School is busy, for both you and Kei. He doesn’t manage to visit much, and now it’s that every time he does, you’re away at a training camp with the team. 

You don’t see him again until Christmas. 

You didn’t even know he was coming back, he’d left it so up in the air on whether or not he’d be able to get away, you were going with the assumption that he wouldn’t be able to make it in time. 

It’s what you thought, but Kei decided it would be nice to surprise you. In your bed. 

When you wake up a little warmer than usual, you chalk it up to mom turning up the heat and try to snuggle back beneath your covers. Something is draped loose and heavy over your stomach, and it squeezes when you start to squirm. Warmth ghosts over your neck, fingers sink into the soft of your lower belly, pulling you in, and you scream as your tired brain registers that there is another body in your bed. 

He laughs at you while you smack him with your pillow, uncaring when his glasses are flung to the floor. He catches you by the waist, pulls you back in, buries his face into your neck and just breathes. Ignoring your struggle completely, he does make a show of carefully petting you, like he’s trying to help you settle. At first, it only frustrates you more, but as you finally take in the scent of him, the rough cadence to his voice as he laughs, you realize just how long it’s been since you were like this with him. 

You’re struck by it, the intimacy, a shy hand hovering over the back of his head, suddenly unsure. It feels so different now, with the way he seems to bask in you, like it’s something to be relished. 

As your arms come around him, he fits oddly against your shape, different. He’s wider now, thicker around the shoulders, his hands firm in a way they had previously been uncertain as they glide up and down your back. 

“Welcome home.” You murmur, tinged with an undercurrent of trepidation. 

He sighs against you, wistful and relieved. “Yeah, thanks.” He says it soft, like the fluffy top layer of snow that glitters beneath the sun. Kei doesn’t usually let himself sound like this, not unless he’s slipping. 

You try not to let yourself enjoy it too much, worried at how it makes you feel, the heat in your face and the unsteady kick of your heart. 

–

He’s home for a week, but you aren’t. Splitting your holiday break between friends that you had previously made plans with, you don’t actually get to see him as much as you’d like. He’s reconnecting as well, so the odd times that you are home, you can only catch him for a few minutes before he’s being dragged out the door. 

Christmas eve, though, you creep downstairs with a blanket tucked beneath your arm, pillow in hand. Since Kei and Akiteru will both be home on Christmas day, mom had gone all out with wrapping presents, pretty bows and glittery ribbons, you gently nudge them all out of the way to make space for your makeshift bed. 

You’ve done this every year. Ever since you were a toddler, mom jokes. 

When you were still just a baby, she had been awake with you all night on Christmas eve, trying everything from warm milk to lullabies to rocking you back and forth to make you sleep, but you were fussy and disgruntled. Rather than taking you upstairs and risking your crying waking Kei and Akiteru, she sat beneath the decorated tree to let you play with the lights and ornaments. Instead of being entertained, even with the glow of greens and blues shining back in your eyes, you’d drifted off to sleep. It’s become more of a gag, but mom always has the biggest smile when she comes down to find you curled up beneath the tree, the colorful lights shimmering in your hair. Oftentimes Akiteru would wake up in the middle of the night and bring you an extra blanket during the colder years, or he’d sit with you if it was too late to fall back asleep, but too early to wake everyone up to open presents. 

A silly little habit, maybe, but it’s given you fond memories. 

This year, as you bed down for the night tucked away amidst the plethora of gifts and lights, the sound of creaking floorboards makes you tense.

It’s just Kei, though, a blanket draped over his shoulder as he comes down the stairs, glasses missing and eyes a little narrowed, searching through the dim lighting of the room until they settle on you. 

“Kei?” 

He shushes you, settling down just beside you and nudging you over until he’s sharing your pillow, tugging his blanket over your body until you’re both wrapped up in it. He lays on his side, watching you with heavy eyes, illuminated by the wealth of lights just above his head. 

“This is my thing.” You tell him, letting him in anyway. 

He rolls his eyes, smiling as he stretches an arm out, an invitation you take by tucking yourself into the crook of it, snuggling close with a happy little sigh. You can’t feel the way the tension eases out of him, already drifting off to sleep, but he melts around you like sugar in hot tea. Softened, pressing little kisses to the top of your head, breathing for the first time in what feels like a year, since he first choked on a gasp at the sight of you in your doorway, eyes red with tears, still in your wrinkled pajamas. 

It’s the best night of sleep he’s had since the night he lost against Itachiyama. 

– 

You wake up to Kei’s low, raspy voice telling someone to ‘shhhh!’ with a tight hand pressed to the back of your head, followed by the high pitched sound of Akiteru giggling. 

With a quiet groan, you roll onto your back and blink against the harsh christmas lights. This lasts for only a moment before you’re covering your eyes and curling into Kei once more, regretting your decision to wake up. His arm comes back around you, rubbing your shoulder, and Akiteru moves closer. 

“Merry Christmas.” He whispers, a gentle hand petting the back of your head. “C’mon, mom is making breakfast.” 

“Lemme sleep.” You mutter, batting his hand away and trying to hide your face in Kei’s neck, though it’s ruined by the low vibration of his quiet laughter. 

Electing to have mercy on you, Akitery retreats to the kitchen, leaving Kei to make an attempt at gently rousing you. 

“Wake up.” 

You groan, loud, dramatic, bumping his shoulder with your forehead. “No.” 

He jostles you, pulling on your blanket, poking at your face until you hiss and slap at his hand. He catches it, drags you in and rolls onto his back so you’re sprawled over him. “Get up.” 

“Can’t make me.” You argue, pulling your skewed blanket up over your shoulders and making to get comfortable, right there on his chest.  

The tip of his nose maps a line down your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw as he hums thoughtfully, hand splayed wide over your lower back. “I’ll let you open my present first if you get up.” 

You pause, bracing on your elbows to lift yourself up and peer down at him. “Why does that matter?” 

He grins, a little smugly, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “Who knows? I could be bluffing. Maybe I didn’t even get you anything this year.” 

Your eyes narrow, flicking out towards the pile of presents as if you might be able to guess which one might be from him, but his hand comes up and cups the side of your face to block your view, coaxing you into looking back down at him. 

“I got you something nice, the least you can do is behave long enough to get it.” He smirks when you glower at him, a scary little scowl that he’s sure you picked up from the few times Yachi ever got angry. 

Begrudgingly, you let him drag you to your feet, his arm finding home around your waist as he walks with you into the kitchen. Mom greets you with a hug and a quick kiss, a whisper of ‘Merry Christmas’ against your temple. 

The gifts go by slowly, everyone lingering in the moment. You’re the only one without a source of income, so you had to get a little more creative. 

Your gift to mom is a painting of her favorite type of bird, some sort of hawk, that you’d requested from a friend you made in the art club. It cost you several weeks worth of classroom cleaning shifts that you picked up in their stead, but the brilliant smile on her face at the sight is worth it. 

Akiteru’s gift came with Saeko Tanaka’s name attached as well for a few reasons, as she’d helped you gather several photos from his highschool and college days, off and on the court, that you stitched into a scrapbook with other pictures from throughout yours and Kei’s childhood. Mom tears up at the sight of it, but it’s not until Akiteru gets to the last page that his head snaps up, watery eyes locked onto your face. 

The other reason her name is on the tag is that the last picture is an ultrasound. 

You, mom, and Kei are completely unphased when Saeko slips out from behind the entryway to the front hall, watching as tears pour down his face and his hands clap over his mouth. When her arms come around his shoulders from behind, he’s immediately up and rounding the couch, she’s barely even able to get a laugh out before he has her up in the air, holding her tight. 

Mom is quick to warn him to be gentle, already fretting. You have your phone out to record, and Kei is holding a box in his lap, fingers stroking the lace edge of the ribbon tied at the top. There’s a smile on his face, soft and barely there, feeling you press into his shoulder as you lean in to get a better angle from around your mom. 

His arm comes around you, drawing you in, and he bumps you with his cheek gently. “Can I open mine now?” 

You give him half a glance, a flutter of nerves in your throat. “No, you have to save it for next year. Sorry.” 

He rolls his eyes and gently pulls apart the ribbon, and you nearly groan when he begins to carefully peel away the tape from wrapping paper. His lips curl, half a smile, and you know he’s doing it on purpose. 

“I’ll open it for you if you don’t hurry.” You mutter, hoping your voice is quiet enough that the mic on your phone won’t catch it. 

“Open your own.” He huffs, but does give up on meticulously dissecting your wrapping. 

When he opens it to find an empty box, he tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, both in vague disbelief and dry amusement. 

Clicking off your phone, you drag him into the kitchen with teasing laughter, feeling the narrowed scowl of his eyes blaring into the back of your head. 

It softens when you pull a homemade cake from the fridge, perhaps not as pretty as one from a store, but clearly made with loving intent. Your expression is a little shy, a little embarrassed, and your shoulders bend inwards as you hold it out to him. 

“Asked mom to show me how to bake one.” You mumble, trying not to shy away when he leans in close to hear you. “You said you like hers best, so…” 

Kei melts, removing the tray from your hands and setting it aside to take you back into his arms, squeezing you close as he lets out a soft little sigh into your hair. “I’m sure it’ll be decent.” He lies, fighting a smile when you whine and slap at his chest, frustrated that he’d tease you while you’re so clearly being vulnerable. 

Akiteru stumbles into the kitchen shortly after, wiping his eyes and red in the face, and he perks up at the sight of you two. His eyes drift to the cake, and Kei is quick to shut him down. 

“No.” 

You laugh, hiding your face in his chest while Akiteru comes over to whine, warmth bubbly like fizzy juice as it pops between your ribs, something bright and happy. 

It’s so easy to be like this. 

–

Later, after everyone has gone to sleep, Kei comes to your room.

A pretty little box in hand, wrapped with pretty blue paper and tied with a softer, silken ribbon. He sits on your bed with your back to his chest, watching as you carefully pull apart the tape, tongue poking out from the corner of your mouth. 

He doesn’t say a word while you gently unwrap the paper, careful not to rip it as you set it aside to add to your growing collection. Patient as you twist the soft, velvety box in your hands, fingers tracing the crease where it opens, wondering at the novelty of it. Certainly different from the books he’d gifted Akiteru, and the fabric for your mother. 

His hands rest against your knees, thumbs teasing at the bunched up hem of your pants, and somehow that’s more distracting than the gift you haven’t even opened yet. 

When you finally crack open the box, a small silver chain nearly falls out. It catches, hangs in the air, sparkles in the dim light filtering in through your blinds. A half swirl of ocean blue that glitters like stained glass, set in a circle of silver that’s polished pretty. New. 

You swallow, shrinking in as something warm blooms over your cheeks. “Kei, this is–” 

“It’s fine.” He interrupts, still soft. “Don’t. Do you like it?” 

A whisper. “Yeah.” 

He turns his wrist over, palm up, fingers curling in. “Then let me put it on.” 

The silver chain looks so much more delicate in his hand, but he handles the clasp easily, the pretty pendant resting just below the hollow of your throat. His fingers trace over it, following the curve of the chain down, and your head tilts back on instinct to make the trek easy. 

“Thought of you when I saw it.” He sighs, wrapping his arms loose around your middle and squeezing. “Merry Christmas.” 

For the second night in a row, you fall asleep in Kei’s arms. 

–

He’s only home a few more days before he has to leave, Christmas break is over. 

This parting is easier, if only because it will only hurt until you see him again, not for a wealth of other reasons. He hugs you tight, teases you, suffers through Akiteru’s physical affection and the doting of mom before he has to climb into his car and start the drive back to the city. 

He calls you when he gets home, and you don’t like it because it makes you miss him, the sound of his voice, the way his breath skims over your hair when he whispers while holding you. 

You’re pretty sure that isn’t normal, either. 

Even more so when, as you’re doing laundry, you realize he left one of his shirts behind. Comfortable, well-worn, you pull it over your head and feel something warm fluttering in your stomach, and as you catch your reflection in passing you see that your face is blushed. 

You start wearing it to bed, because you don’t have to put any effort into breaking it in and it’s loose and the material is softer than most of your other night clothes. 

Certainly not because, if you tuck your nose against the collar, you can still sort of smell him. 

–

He doesn’t come home for summer break.

You’re the first one to find out that it’s because he was signed on for a V-league team. 

When he tells you, he’s out of breath, the buzz of city life in the background, and you’re in the bathroom with a toothbrush sticking out of your mouth. 

“Huh?” 

He groans, swallows, and tries again, still heaving for air. “Sendai–frogs.” He gasps, voice a little wheezy. “Playing for– the Sendai Frogs.” 

It takes you a moment, after you’ve rinsed out your mouth and put your toothbrush away. 

When it clicks, you nearly scream into the receiver. “Oh my god you’re on a team! An actual team! Not just your shitty college one!” You squeal, far too loud for how late the hour is. 

He laughs, elated, and your joy is now secondhand, cheeks aching with how wide you smile. You’ve never heard him laugh like that, it makes you want to hug him through the phone. 

“Will you tell mom for me? I have to go back inside and sign the contract, I’ll text Akiteru later and let him know.” 

You choke on nothing, stopped short with a breath caught in your throat. “You called me before you even signed the damn thing?” 

Silence, then, a tentative– “No.” 

A quick, sharp exhale puffs past your lips, a feeling so saccharine that it burns you welling up in your chest. “Oh, Kei.” 

He hangs up, but you’re breathless now, beaming so hard that you feel compelled to cover your face, even though the only one around to see it is yourself. But as you peek through the spaces between your fingers and catch a glimpse of the mirror, you realize that even the sight of your own happy reflection is too much. 

– 

Your third year is busier. You’re more hands-on now with the team, joining them on the court to spike or block, to learn what to do through muscle memory so you know what advice to offer them with certain plays. You go to Kei often for tips, talking him through strategies and sending him tapes of your practices so he can go over them with you. And he, reluctantly, puts you in contact with Kageyama and Hinata as well. 

Even with his schedule, juggling college and practice for a professional team, he makes the time for you now. He can’t call every day, but he tries to text at least on those that he can’t. He’s not around as much during the holidays this year, but Tadashi stops by when he’s home to visit. Taller now, and more confident in a way. He doesn’t hover by the door like he used to, uncertain if he was really allowed to be in your home, always overly polite and formal even though you’d practically grown up together anyway. 

He sits with you and watches Kei’s game on the TV, and he even indulges when you ask to send him a selfie of the two of you just to rub it in that he isn’t home for Christmas. He drapes an arm around your shoulder, each of you wearing silly red and green sweaters, him with reindeer antlers sitting crooked atop his head, you with a santa hat. You’re smiling wide, glowing with joy as Tadashi squishes his cheek to yours to fit in close for the picture. You think it’s a nice one, Kei does not seem to agree.  

It earns you a very rude phone call later that night, but the grumpiness of his voice made it seem worth it, the undercurrent of jealousy that was thinly veiled. You tell him that the only way to make sure he doesn’t have to see stuff like that again is to spend Christmas with you every year. 

He calls you a brat, says he spoils you too much, but promises that you’ll be with him for the next one. 

–

Karasuno vs. Kamomedai

It’s like a sick joke, that in your third year you lose to the same school that Kei lost to in his. Your team places fifth for Nationals, it should be an achievement, you made it so far.

Not far enough. It’s your last year, your last game. 

It’s your loss as much as it is the teams, just as gaping, just as painful. Your eyes burn as you stand with them on the court, as you shake hands with the other team’s manager. Her grip is tight, fierce, her eyes watery even though she’s on the winning side. 

You think she feels it too, that she knows what it’s like, for her this is a victory strongly earned, deserved. 

For you, its unfair, unjust that your boys worked so fucking hard just to lose it all by a few points. 

Volleyball isn’t your passion, but you love it, you love your team, you love what you get to do, the things you’ve learned by helping them, how they’ve in turn help you improve in other ways. It burns in you like acid, the bitter sick of treacle that is too sweet. You stand on that court with them and try to keep yourself contained, sharing eyes with the captain and knowing your composure will be needed for the underclassmen.

At first, you would only text Kei when Karasuno won. It was his team, then, his tally to keep score of. 

Now, it’s yours. Your loss, your heartbreak, so you text him a simple ‘we lost.’ and turn off your phone. 

It’s a full night's ride back home, crammed into the bus with a team full of heartbroken young adults and teenagers. You comfort the first years as much as you can, you take their hands and promise that next year, they’ll go even further. 

You squeeze the other third years tight, the lot of you wishing that this year you would go even further. 

You’re dropped off at the school parking lot, sun cresting just above the treeline, you’re already dreading the walk home. Everyone is tired, sullen, faces puffy from crying and noses dry from too many tissues. 

And there at the front gate, Kei is waiting for you. Earbuds in, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling until he hears the sluggish drag of your footsteps. 

He catches you when you fall into his arms, sobbing, tucking himself around you and murmuring into your ear while you cry into the collar of his shirt. 

You follow him home blindly, vision blurry as you continuously wipe away your tears, other hand held tightly in his so he can lead you. The walk is familiar, bittersweet as you make this trek with him, so far removed from every other time you have. He rubs your knuckles with his thumb, quiet but checking in, tugging you along and hiding your face with his jacket when you have to stop and crouch low just to bawl for a moment. 

It’s slow, but eventually you make it home. Inside, he takes off your shoes for you, pulls you upstairs, crawls with you beneath your covers so he can hold you properly as you fall to pieces. 

There’s nothing you have to say, he already knows everything you’re feeling and you know that he does, but it feels like it will poison you if you don’t get it out, so you do. Bitterly recounting the last few points, the scant difference it would have made, how everyone did their best and it just didn’t measure up. You mourn it, the memories, the slow crawl to the top that you had been desperate to reach. For yourself, for your brothers. The last chance for a Tsukishima to win Nationals. 

He cups your face, squeezes your cheeks when you begin to devolve into actual rambling, pressing his forehead to yours until you calm enough to listen. 

“I’m going to win something better.” He promises you, laying a kiss above your brow. 

–

Kei stays with you all night, awake while you sleep, comforting you when you come to and feel the rawness of your loss all over again. He’s there when you wake up, a soft, playful little smile that doesn’t fade even after he drags you out of bed. 

You’re grumpy, sore, a little dehydrated, utterly unamused as you follow him unwillingly downstairs, wanting to just wallow beneath your sheets. 

As you’re walking into the kitchen, you’re overwhelmed at the sight of Kei pulling a cake from the fridge, a blue sticky note attached to the top. After you let out perhaps the most ugly crying sound of your life, Kei laughs at you and pulls you in by your wrists, his chin atop your head so you can burrow yourself into his shirt the way you always do when you’re trying to hide.

“I assume you want cake for breakfast?” He teases, so disgustingly careful that it makes you sick with happiness. To be treated gently, especially by him, at a time when you feel so brittle, is surreal.

“That sounds like a horrible idea.” You croak, cracking on the tail end of your jibe. He smiles where you can’t see, even though the memory it brings to mind is tinged with the cut of his own loss. 

“Well,” He drawls, fingers sinking into your hair to curl close to your scalp. “More for me, then.”

–

The rest of the year is filled to the max with college prep, studying for tests, and preparing a second year to take over as next year’s volleyball manager. 

Ukai is wistful when you talk to him about your plans, a wry smile on his face, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“You’re a lot like him.” He admits, grin turning crooked. “I used to think you two were nothing alike, but I see more of him in you now. Stubborn as hell when you put your mind to something, that’s for sure. I can’t believe you strong-armed me into staying on for another five years.” 

You smile, misty-eyed and a little sharp. “The next suitable coach won’t be out of college for a few more years, I can’t have my boys falling into the wrong hands, now can I?”

He laughs, husky and loud, slapping you too hard on the back once before bracing both hands on his hips and tipping his chin towards the net, the crowd of players ready for practice on the far side of the gym. “Then go make ‘em line up, we’re running receiving drills today and our ace ain’t gonna be happy about it.” 

You give him a mock salute, something sharp twisting in your ribs when he softens and pats the top of your head, sending you off once more to rally your team together. 

Was graduation this hard for Kei? Was he thinking about all of the things he was leaving behind in the middle of all of it? 

You don’t have time for calls as often, always with your face buried in a book. You forget to eat, sometimes, until Akiteru inevitably comes knocking at your bedroom door, takeout in hand because while mom is well aware of how single-minded you can be and knows you’ll eat eventually. Akiteru has never been able to dote on his younger sibling before so he’s taking full advantage of the fact that you won’t turn him away like Kei did. 

And you’ve kept it a secret, so far, the fact that you’ve applied to the same university as Kei. Waiting for the letter has been the bulk of your stress, though you’ve had to play it off on end of the year nerves. If you tell someone, you’ll start to hope, and you can’t hope until you have that letter

You’re exhausted, half-asleep on the phone with Kei after receiving numerous congratulations from the rest of your family on your upcoming graduation. He’s quiet, the faint click of his keyboard audible in the background while you scroll through your messages. 

An email notification pops up at the top of your screen, and you drop your phone when you read the web handle. 

“You okay?” It’s half concerned, voice barely pitching high as Kei listens to you curse and fumble to grab your phone from the floor. 

You don’t answer, biting your lip so hard that it bleeds as you open your email. The anticipation will kill you, throttle you if you don’t open it right now. You don’t have the patience to wait. 

Accepted. 

We are pleased to inform you – accepted – choice between on or off campus– 

“Kei.” You rasp, eyes glassy. 

You can hear the abrupt alertness in his voice, typing immediately ceased. “Are you okay?” 

A slow, shaky breath, building nerves. Unsure if he’ll want you there, unsure if you’re welcome, if this is intruding, things that you’re thinking too late in the game. 

“Want a roommate?” Is all you can manage, breathless, and then you’re laughing. 

“I–what?” 

You forward him the email, delirious and giddy, and he lets out a noise that's a cross between a gasp and a shout when he gets it. 

“You–here? Here?” 

“Full ride.” You whisper, fingers shaking as they curl around your phone. “Marine science, with my volunteer work I can get an internship at a marine lab in the city. A twelve minute bus ride from your apartment.” 

He laughs with you, then, disbelief thick. “You missed me that much?” 

“Do not ruin this for me, I will move in with Tadashi instead.” 

His laugh is more mocking this time, but he doesn’t tell you no, and you let yourself start to hope a little too much. 

At the end, just when you’re about to fall asleep, he murmurs– “I’ll clean up the guest room for you tomorrow.” 

–

He comes home for your graduation. 

A surprise, since he’d told you that he wouldn’t be able to make it, so he’s caught only slightly off guard when he walks in the front door and mom tells him that you’re out with friends. 

He can’t blame you for that, so he waits upstairs in your room, a little amused at the sight of your clothes all over the floor, the makeup scattered amongst your sheets. You’d gotten ready in a hurry, so he spends time picking up after you, less for you to do when you get back. 

Anxious, anticipating, he’s wholly unprepared for when you walk in the door drunk. You stumble into your bedroom still in your heels, and his mouth dries up. 

Smudged lipstick, disheveled hair, heavy eyes and with too many buttons undone on your shirt, fastened just below your bra to expose the frill of lace against your skin. 

When he looks closer, though, the thing that smothers something fragile in his chest is when he realizes there’s two shades of lipstick blurring together on your lips.

You smile big at the sight of him, eyes bright and more alert, and you fall onto the bed to throw your arms around him. 

“You’re home!” Breathy, hoarse from drinking, you smell like a sickly sweet perfume but he hauls you in close anyway, his eyes burning, hands shaking as they fist in your shirt. 

“Yeah.” He murmurs, heart breaking. “Congratulations, got you a gift.” His voice is rough, he tries to keep it under control, but you’re so sweet right now, nuzzling into his neck, your hands settled on his shoulders for stability. 

“Didn’t have to.” You slur, blinking away the fog, murky and thick. “Jus’ happy to see you, Kei.” 

He swallows around the grit in his throat, teeth clenched. Don’t say my name. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to wait till you move in to get it, and I can always return it before then.” 

You don’t even get angry at his weak jibe, giggling and nosing at his jaw now instead, shiny eyes blinking up at him through pretty lashes, he feels like he’s going to die. His hand squeezes your waist, finding you plush and soft, heart in his throat as you settle between his legs and rest all of your weight against him, cuddling close even though he knows, right now of all times, that he should push you away.

His thumb feathers over your bottom lip, smudged with red and purple, pressing down as if he can feel the phantom sensation of another mouth against yours. It burns, sickly in him, made worse when your tongue dips out warm and wet on his skin. 

It’s only for a second, but he’s starkly aware that he knows what your tongue feels like now, different than playfully licking his hand to make him let you go, it feels intimate, sensual, your eyes heavy-lidded with the flush of alcohol keeping you warm. 

For a hundred and one percent of the time, Kei has dedicated himself to loving you the way he should, anything more is locked tightly away in a box, building and building, far too much for such a tiny space to contain. Infinity would be too little a container for the excess of his love, the overflow, the love that is not shared between a brother and his sister. 

That night, his thumb wiping away your lipstick, the number drops to 99.

–

You wake up alone, head pounding, tucked in with a glass of water and a pill at your bedside and the taste of death in your mouth. With a groan, you drain half of the cup before even considering taking the pill, but you pop it quickly with a grimace before downing the rest. 

For your first night drinking, you think it could have gone way worse. 

As you lie back, blanket to your chin, you struggle through the events of last night, sorting through murky memories. 

You’d gone out to an izakaya, the lot of you trying your first round of beer to celebrate graduation. Sharing plans, snacks, drinks, everything was passed around at least three times between you all. 

And you have a girlfriend now. 

Unexpectedly, your first kiss is adrenaline fueled, the second with alcohol. Your best friend, reminiscing with you over your highschool years, then lamenting feelings lost. You’d pushed gently, and she told you with a wry grin that someone she loved was moving away, and she’d lost her chance to confess. 

Even tipsy, connecting the dots was easy. Long distance might be hard, and neither of you are deluded about what a same-sex relationship might do to some of your friendships, but you’re going to give it a try. 

You’re nervous. Romantic feelings have never come naturally to you, you’ve never felt that close with anyone so anything beyond a casual crush is a mystery.

Kaoruko is so sweet, though. Kind, skin thick against your snark, you’ve learned all of the things to avoid in your jokes and she knows everything that makes you tick. You think she’d be a good partner, you just wonder if that means she’ll be a good partner for you. 

The door opens, and you’re shocked when a familiar blonde figure steps in, a tray in his hands. “Kei!”

He startles, eyes-wide, and then frowns at you. “What? Don’t talk so loud, mom is still sleeping.” 

Message unnecessary, the sharpness of your own voice has you groaning and clutching at your head. Lesson learned the hard way. 

“I didn’t know you were here!” You whine, reaching for him. He falters, confused and hesitant, before setting the tray on your nightstand and kneeling on your bed so he can lean over to hug you. You clutch at him, breathing him in, feeling the tension in your body dissipate as his hands pass over your back. 

“You saw me last night.” He reminds you quietly, withdrawing even though you complain and try to pull him back in.  

“I did?” You ask, meek, trying to push through the muddle of your memory and finding nothing beyond leaving with your friends. You aren’t even really sure how you made it home.  “I don’t remember. Did I say anything weird?” 

He smirks, head tilted back with an expression so smug that you’re dreading having asked. 

“I don’t know, did you?” He teases, sitting down and pulling your breakfast into his lap, pancakes with cream instead of syrup, sliced strawberries between each layer, and a scoop of ice cream in a little cup on the side. He’s spoiling you, you wonder if mom knows. 

“Tell me!” You grab onto his arm and shake him, though he doesn’t move much, brow raised in thinly veiled amusement as you struggle. “Put me out of my misery! It’ll drive me crazy not knowing!” 

His grin widens, and then he’s shifting the tray over your lap, pointedly silent as he sets a glass of juice on your nightstand, sets down your silverware, and then presses a mocking kiss to your cheek that makes you hiss. “Akiteru and I are going out, behave.” He warns you, playful, watching as you glower up at him with a pretty pout. 

“No.” You deny immediately, picking up a strawberry slice and popping it into your mouth. “I’m gonna set the house on fire while you’re gone.” 

He shrugs with one arm, unperturbed. “You’re moving in with me anyway, the only one that would hurt is mom.” 

For some reason, the reminder makes you giddy. You can’t stifle your smile, almost bashful as you try to cover it with your hands, and he softens, pushes the hair out of your face so it doesn’t get in your pancakes. He lingers against your jaw, fingertips that ghost over your pulse before he’s pulling back, hand curled tight before it’s pushed into his pocket. 

As he’s about to leave, you blurt out his name, instinctive, impulsive, the whirlwind of your thoughts a cacophony. He stops, half turned with a questioning glance tossed over his shoulder, his eyes a bit wide when he sees the clear conflict on your face. 

“What’s wrong?”

You swallow, gaze lowered, hands knotted together as you twist your fingers to stem how they shake. It should probably stay a secret, but the thought of living with Kei and hiding this from him feels unthinkable. “I have a girlfriend.” 

His heart stops, a missing beat, throwing everything that is him off rhythm. You’re looking at your plate, so you miss how his face hardens, how it turns to impassive stone faster than you can blink up to catch it, searching for a reaction and finding none. 

Or so you thought.

You watch, increasingly anxious, as he practically sneers “so?” in such a cold voice that it shocks you, has you recoiling physically in your bed. 

It’s not the reaction you were expecting, it’s both more hostile and somehow uncaring. He looks angry, but then it’s locked behind a mask, that facade you haven’t seen since your first year. 

“I just–” You clear your throat, shaky, blinking against the sudden onslaught of his intensity. “I just wanted you to know.” 

He scoffs, a grating sound, shoulders rounded inwards as he turns back to the door. “Thanks, I guess. Anything else so important that it can’t wait until later?” 

Your face twists, brow pinched near the middle as you swallow your own vitriol. You will not lash out the same as him, even if you really think he might deserve it. “No. That’s all.” You spit, trying not to let yourself cry as he leaves. You’re in so much pain, what was at first just a pounding migraine is now an ache in your chest, something raw and ripped out. You hadn’t expected that. 

The pancakes are sweet, made the way you like them with too much cream even though Kei always says making them this way is a waste of time. It’s your favorite ice cream too, something that he had to have picked up on his own because it was definitely not in the freezer before you left with your friends. 

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, burning with frustration and guilt. 

You knew it was a risk to tell him, you’ve never had a conversation with anyone in your family about your sexuality before, so it was going to be a shock no matter what. You had worried that he would tell mom and maybe things would devolve, you had been prepared to argue your point if it came to that. 

What you hadn’t prepared for, was whatever the hell he gave you. Something bitter, toxic, a seething, cold anger that felt misdirected. 

Quietly, quietly, you think it looked a lot like jealousy. 

–

Kei’s friends help with your move, too. 

Hinata is broader, tanner, just as cheerful as he bounds up to greet you. Tame, in a way, that he had not been before he left Japan. He’s calm, less jittery as he carries boxes from upstairs down, taking the heavier ones from you with a smile and some offhand comment to redirect your attention before you get the chance to complain. 

Tadashi is familiar, a little dewy-eyed when he thinks too much about you going to college with him and Kei. Like with highschool, it will only be for a year before they finish their degrees, but the short time is something you hope to treasure. 

Kageyama isn’t able to make it, but he does actually remember to send you a text wishing you luck. It’s a little stiff, a little formal, but the fact that he reached out at all makes you feel fuzzy inside. 

It’s a nice contrast to the frost in your lungs whenever Kei catches your eye. 

Quiet, talking only when he needs to confirm that you’re taking or leaving something specific, or pulling you out of the way with a loose hand that drops as soon as it can. You hate it, you hadn’t thought moving in with him would be so stressful. 

It’s worse when Kaoruko comes to see you off. 

A tight hug is the most you can manage with so many people around, but she squeezes you and makes you promise again and again to call her, to visit on holidays and send her the first college hoodie you purchase so she can wear it instead. 

The others busy themselves with checking traffic in the city and planning out their routes to get to the apartment within a decent time frame, giving you the space to hold her, but you can feel Kei’s eyes on you. Like a brand, the weight of his attention makes you breathless, something wrong, something twisted. Guilt. 

It makes you angry, you’re firm in that you have no reason to feel guilty, he has no right to make you feel so bad over being in a relationship with a woman. Brazen, you give her a kiss to the forehead, soft and slow, uncaring now in the height of your adrenaline who sees. Hinata and Tadashi are unphased, but Kei’s face twists, an ugly expression shadowed as his chin tucks close to his chest, as if he can hide the way his eyes flare wide and his mouth presses thin. 

You ride in the car with Tadashi, sure that if you tried to make the trek with Kei then you’d end up killing each other on the way. 

He makes small talk about what your campus will be like, warning you of certain professors and reminiscing about some of his and Kei’s earlier years there, when they first started out together. He doesn’t expect you to talk back, filling the silence because unlike your brother, you don’t like to just sit in it and stew when you’re upset. He distracts you, breaks from the schedule to stop and get ice cream to make you smile even though it puts him behind everyone else on the drive to the city. 

And by the time you get to your new home, you’re laughing and at ease, tension long left back in Miyagi. The others are already inside, sun dropped heavy near the horizon, so you take your time getting your things from his car. It’s cold, a chilly breeze that ruffles the loose fit of your clothes, comfort over function, he shoos you inside while getting the rest of your bags. 

That newfound ease only lasts up until you make it to the front door before your nerves creep back in, the uncertainty, the worry that maybe you aren’t so welcome anymore but Kei just didn’t want to deal with the trouble of telling you to buzz off. It makes you anxious, torn between climbing back into Tadashi’s car to go home and just acting like everything is fine. You are not confident you could do the latter. 

Before you can make a choice, it’s made for you in the form of Hinata spotting you from the window and hurrying to let you inside, a call of your name that bleeds through the wood and alerts the others of your arrival. The door is yanked open, a wide smile to greet you, sunshine incarnate so bright you almost want to squint in the face of it.

Tadashi ushers you inside out of the cold, mindful of the rigid way you carry yourself and offering a reassuring smile when you shoot him a pleading glance, begging him with your eyes to get you out, and him declining with a gentle pat on the head.

Akiteru and Kei are in the kitchen, conversation halted as they turn to watch as you’re, quite unwillingly, coaxed further into the room by Hinata. Yachi intercepts, nobody had even told you she’d be here but you’re overjoyed when she’s quick to pull you into a hug. 

She tells you that she’s proud of how well you did as Karasuno’s manager, hand braced on her hip with the other on your shoulder, beaming wide and you’re struck with the thought that there are now twin suns in the living room and you feel like you’re going to get burned by all the happy fuzzy energy. 

You’re bashful beneath her praise, flustered and shy with your face ducked to hide it, and she coos at you before teasing Kei about how you both react the same to genuine compliments. 

That makes him flush as well, though his expression is significantly more annoyed. It does nothing to detract from the ruddy color on his cheeks. He catches your gaze briefly as you’re taking in your surroundings, but before he can make any sort of face you’ve already looked away. 

You’ve never seen Kei’s apartment before. It’s clean, a little bare, pictures on the wall and shelves lined with books. There’s a lit candle on the kitchen counter, a TV turned on but clearly forgotten on some history channel, vacuum lines still prominent in the carpet from a recent, hasty cleaning job. 

It doesn’t look like home, doesn’t feel like home, and now you’ve come to the strange point where you wish you had stayed in Miyagi, with mom and Akiteru. After coming this far, though, you’re determined to see this through. More for you is here than just Kei, it’s a good college for your major, and the work opportunities are better here. You’ll make it work. 

You have company to dilute the heavy air for a few hours, at least. They stay long enough for dinner, which consists of takeout that Hinata and Kei should definitely not be eating, but they do anyway because you and Yachi had a craving.

You stay cuddled close to Akiteru, mournful in a strange way at the thought of him leaving to go back home. It’s better this way since mom won’t be lonely, but every time you and Kei have given each other the silent treatment, you had Akiteru to comfort you, to visit and call you when you were down. Knowing that he won’t be a simple five minute walk away is foreign, the change of it rattling your foundations. You tuck your face against his neck and let him rub your back with a soft, comforting croon.

He promises to call, gently, so gently, teasing that you’ll get over it quickly enough that you’ll eventually have to start ignoring him because he’s going to pester you so much. His banter is different, it doesn’t bite or sting, more like the plucking of strings to create a tune. He makes you laugh, even when your eyes are glassy. 

You share another quick round of hugs before they have to go, Hinata lightly chiding Kei and making him promise to be nice to you, and Tadashi trying to mediate before Kei can get mad at being told how to treat his sister. Yachi gets your number and offers to take you out sometime to see the city, and as you watch their cars fade out of view down the road, you think that it was nice to have them over. You wonder if you’ll get to invite them over yourself, one day. 

It’s quiet, with just you and Kei. 

He’s cleaning up, putting away leftovers and wiping down the counter, keeping busy while trying not to be too obvious as he watches you move about the living room. Exploring, tentative, wanting to ask where your room is so you can just hide but not wanting to break the silence. 

His face is burned into your eyelids, that twisted sneer, the surprising vitriol he’d regarded you and Kaoruko. 

Then, the way he’d softened when he’d offered you a bite of his katsu, seeing how you hesitated before accepting, holding your hair out of your face while you leaned in to take it.

It’s a dichotomy that makes you dizzy, frustrated, and leaves you aching. Does he still love you, does he still accept you? 

So immersed, you miss the quiet squeak of the faucet when he turns it off, eyes heavy through glass as he crosses the distance between you in few steps. 

The first brush of his hand against your back has you tense, rigid in anticipation, though you melt when it moves to pull you in by your hip, your head resting against his chest. You let him hug you, even mired in your confusion. He doesn’t deserve it, though, doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. 

He tugs you along to your room, sparsely decorated with some of your belongings already inside, boxes opened but left for you to unpack at your leisure. Clean sheets, the blankets from your room already spread out, and a wrapped box sitting neatly in the center of your bed. 

It’s a small thing that this gesture means, a silent apology in the careful way he handles you, and the first tremors of your unease begin to dissolve. If he’s making the effort, he at least doesn’t hate you.

You swallow around nothing, and his head dips, mouth at your temple. “I’m down the hall, knock if you need anything.” He murmurs, a hand curled possessively at the base of your spine, and hating himself for it, for how he feels when you willingly press in closer, letting him push against you to remove all of the space between your bodies. 

It shouldn’t be so easy, he knows. It shouldn’t be so hard. 

– 

You don’t open the gift, not yet, keeping it pretty on the corner of your desk. 

The first night is easy, you fall asleep nearly the moment you’re left alone. You rest well, considering the past few weeks you’ve barely gotten any rest at all. The mattress is comfortable and all of the packing had left you so physically exhausted that you probably couldn’t have stayed up if you wanted. In the morning, after you’ve been awake for more than ten minutes, you send out a round of texts to your friends and then call Mom. 

Akiteru is in the background, crying dramatically about how he misses you so much already. You smile, listening to them, already missing them more because you’re aware of how far away you are now. 

But it’s because of that that you’re so cheery when you leave your room, walking into the kitchen to find Kei already waiting at the stove. 

“Good morning!” You chirp, coming up from behind and leaning against his back. “What’s for breakfast?” 

“Eggs.” He mumbles, raspy with sleep, turning to peer at you from over his shoulder. “Scrambled or fried?” 

“Scrambled.” You hop up onto the counter, ankles crossed, watching him poke at the skillet with his chopsticks, stirring the egg around as it thickens. He looks a little disheveled, wearing mismatched pajama pants that hang low on his hips, hair fluffed up whatever which way, ruffled from tossing and turning. Kei’s never been a sound sleeper.

As you settle in your spot, you wince at how cold the marble feels against the backs of your bare thighs, the skin of your arms prickling until you rub them with your warmer hands. The movement draws his attention, his eyes finally falling on you, and they narrow sharply as he leans in, inspecting you up close without his glasses to aid him in whatever he’s looking for. 

“Is that mine?” 

You blink, caught a little off guard by the sudden sharpness of his voice, now far more alert than a moment ago. “Huh?”

A hand hesitantly reaches out, tugging at the hem of your nightshirt. His fingers curl, grazing over bare skin, and you shiver. “The shirt.” Lower, now, voice thicker. “Is it mine?” 

You swallow, licking at your dry lips and missing the way his eyes flash up to follow. “Yeah, you left it last year when you visited for Christmas.” A pause, uncertainty plucking at you as you tuck your chin. “Do you want it back? Only kept it cause it was comfy, didn’t know you’d miss it.” 

“No.” It's too quick, he knows, and he can’t stop staring. “You’ve had it for this long, makes more sense for you to just keep it since you like it so much.” 

It should be a taunt, you think, it’s meant to be a taunt, but his voice falls to something reverent instead, unable to muster any hint of mocking. His thin brows are low, pulled up at the middle, lashes kissing his cheeks when his eyes dip below your neck, lower, hidden in the shadows of the kitchen barely illuminated with the faint light coming from behind. You miss the way he looks at you, bare legs on display, his shirt hanging from your body. He wants to push it up, to feel your skin beneath his hands, to kiss you and taste you and– 

Chopsticks clatter to the counter, and he turns away to slide past you, dropping the pinch of fabric like it’s burned him.

“Kei?” You start to get down, braced on your hands as you lift up to drop to the floor and chase him, but his voice is quick to cut you off. 

“Phone call.” He mutters, shoulders hiked up with his head hanging low, disappearing quick into the hallway before you can follow up with any more questions. 

The skillet is still on the stove, hot, he didn’t even turn the burner off or finish cooking the eggs. 

You take over, then, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. He’s gone for a while, whatever call he’s on is quiet, inaudible even when you creep up to his door in an attempt to listen in, to see what has him so on edge. You hear him once, a harsh and heavy exhale, wet like it’s anguished, but silent after. 

With breakfast made, you wait with a plate of cold eggs for him to join you, sitting on the couch and watching a documentary on saltwater fish. 

He takes a shower after his call and then he finally comes back out to eat with you, but instead of explaining he just acts like nothing happened. Now that you clearly have no reason to be worried, you default to being angry that he ditched you. He’s not looking at you, but clearly he can feel your stare, because his own face twists to mirror it. 

“What?” 

You nearly throw your eggs at him. “What the hell was that?” 

“A phone call.” He takes a bite, ignoring you when you smack at his shoulder with your hand, feigning interest in the documentary you’ve put on like actually he gives a shit, something that only sours you further.

“Kei you are such a liar!” You fall back, spooning a cold bite of your breakfast into your mouth and making no attempt to hide your pouting when he turns to face you. 

The tension is back, a little less heavy than before, but still lingering as you eat together in silence. He washes the dishes while you click through his movie catalog, he comes back to sit with you after. Waiting, in his way, because he knows the distance is too much and you’re going to inevitably break when you want something more.  

He doesn’t tease you for it, when you finally cave and reach for him, he simply opens his arms and lets you crawl in, leaning back until you’re warm against his chest. His hands are on your waist, barely applying any pressure but still firm, and yours are in his hair, nails teasing at his scalp until he lets out a quiet groan and rolls his head back in muted encouragement. 

And it’s nice, familiar, he missed your weight on him, the occasional hitch in your breathing because nothing about you is ever steady. You play with his hair and fidget while listening to the droning voices from the TV, you finally begin to relax against him and he’s missed that, can’t fathom the reality of you being too uncomfortable to be around him.

You start to doze off, he can hear it in the way your breath slows, drags, rougher than when you’re awake and alert. It puffs out against his neck, warms his pulse, makes him want to crane his head closer until your lips are against his skin. 

Seventy-five percent. 

Your phone rings, shatters the quiet and jolts you awake. You’re whining, smacking at the coffee table until your fingers catch the end of your case, and you tuck it between his chest and your cheek so you don’t have to hold it while you talk.

“Hello?” 

Tentatively, Kaoruko’s voice bleeds through. “Hi, is this a bad time?” 

You perk up, voice pitched a little higher. “Hey! Not at all, ‘m just hangin’ out with Kei watchin’ TV.” 

Kei tilts his head down, a question, and you falter before answering, his face in mind. 

You’re not going to hide, though, so you steel yourself. “It’s my girlfriend, Kaoruko.” Your voice is traitorously soft, a fragile thing, the walls of your defenses so thin that he can see through them like glass. You’re scared, he realizes, and it melts the jagged razor’s edge of his jealousy. 

“Do you want me to leave so you can talk?” 

Your surprise is blatant, hope bleeding through and twisting a knife between his ribs, the thought that he had let his own feelings hurt you so much that you had been afraid of how he would react. He hates that.

“Nah, s’ok. I’m comfy.” You cuddle back in, talking soft into the phone while he settles beneath you. He strokes your back, fingers steady despite how badly he wants to shake. It hurts, in an unfathomable sense, how he listens to your voice so sweet as you coo into the receiver, teasing and playful in a way you aren’t with him. With him, you bicker, snapping back just as sharp, prickled in a way so unlike the way you are now. Silken, affectionate, like all of you is soft with her. 

His eyes burn. 

–

In some ways, it’s easy to settle in. Even with practice and summer assignments, Kei sets time aside for you. He still calls home, though now you join him for those calls instead of waiting on the other end with mom. You cook more when he doesn’t have the patience for it, and soon begin to take over making dinner overall until your own college classes start. It’s not so different from when you were both in Miyagi, though he’s cleaner now than he used to be. 

In other ways, it’s harder. 

The first time you walk into the kitchen too early in the morning and find him without a shirt, you’re almost appalled at how hot your face feels. His back is to you, ducked low while peering into the fridge, and you watch in something akin to muted horror at the way you can actually see him. Muscle definition that had never been there before, or you had never cared to pay attention to. Hair tousled, messy from sleep as he rakes a hand through it, making it worse. Flush at the shoulders with summer heat, freckles speckled on his skin. 

The fridge clicks shut, and you snap out of it before he turns around, fleeing into the bathroom to collect yourself. 

Your own reflection horrifies you. Eyes a little glazed, pupils dilated, lips parted and plush from being pressed too hard together. Palm to your chest, you feel the way your heart thuds against your ribs, too quick, fluttery like a hummingbird. 

It’s natural, you’re quick to tell yourself. 

It’s not. 

–

When Kauruko comes to visit for the first time, Kei stays out late. 

He’s not good with people, so you aren’t surprised, and you’re a little relieved you won’t have to mediate the tension between them. He can be polite, but cold and cool, and your Kaoruko is very sensitive to people like that, he would scare her off immediately. 

She’s shy, a little, but warms up the longer you curl up together on the couch, her head on your chest, your fingers in her hair. She nuzzles into you, breathes you in, soothed by the steady hum of your heart. No longer weighed down by the pressure of school, she’s more relaxed, the bags beneath her eyes almost faded completely. 

She plays with the hem of your shirt, another one of Kei’s that you’d stolen from his clean laundry before he got around to pulling it from the dryer. Slender fingers, silken, stroke the sensitive skin of your stomach, her lips quirking into a smile when you giggle softly and bat at her hands half-heartedly. 

She kisses you, then. Careful, questioning, melting when you press in to return it. Warm, velvet against your mouth, she cups you by the back of your head and deepens it, you let her guide you, a push and pull as she rolls her hips into you, your thighs parting a little to make room for her. 

When she pulls away with a quiet little gasp, you hum and brush the hair from her face, watching her cheeks flush with color. “I’m sorry.” She murmurs, a bit breathless. “I’m not–I don’t know if I–” 

You coo, squeezing her tight and kissing the furrow in her brow. “It’s okay.” You promise, murmuring against her skin. “I’m fine with just this.” 

She settles, quiet apologies that you stifle with teasing pinches and raspberries, until she’s laughing and pushing against you in weak attempts to break out of your embrace, but you hold on tight and wrap your legs around her as well. 

Kaoruko falls asleep like that, with you still wide awake and gently rubbing her back. The front door creaks open, the shuffle of Kei walking in drawing your attention. He comes around the arm of the couch slowly, and in the light of the TV just before he realizes you’re awake, you watch his face crumple with pain. 

Pain, not anger. Not disgust. 

You watch, amazed, as he jerks away, hands curled tight into fists before falling slack when he notices your open eyes. He stares, unmoving, and Kaoruko shifts atop you with a muffled murmur. 

He tries for normal, for casual, expression smooth and disinterested as though you hadn’t just watched him nearly begin to cry at the sight of you cuddled up with someone else. You don’t stop him when he goes to his room, expecting his door to slam but only hearing a quiet click. 

Something in you cracks. 

– 

It takes two weeks after Kaoruko has gone home for you to break up. 

And it’s so easy that you think you should feel guilty, but you don’t. On her end, the kiss helped her realize that she’s not very interested in women, she just likes you. She isn’t upset when you ask about ending the relationship, only insistent that you stay friends even if it’s a little awkward for a while. 

But it’s not awkward at all, it’s easy to fall into old habits. You don’t quite lose the pet names or the affection, but it’s clearer now that you never felt anything romantic for her to begin with. You feel safe with her, you trust her, so a relationship just seemed to make sense.

But you can’t get Kei’s face out of your mind, and there’s a subtle shift to the lens in which you view his actions now. You can’t stay in a relationship, not like this, not with the twist and the dark direction your thoughts are turning. She deserves far better than the fucked up individual you’re about to become.

And, as you drop your phone after ending the call, as you get up and glide down the hall to knock at Kei’s door, your heart is in your throat but you’re excited, you can’t help thinking that never once did someone else make your body thrum with anticipation like this, make you eager like this.  

“Come in.” Soft, he looks up at you and lowers his headphones when you open his door, and something in your face must alarm him because his chair rolls back sharply and he turns towards you with a pinch of concern. “Are you okay?” 

“I just broke up with Kaoruko.” 

His eyes go wide, lips parting around a gasp that would be inaudible if you weren’t watching him so closely for a reaction. His hands twitch, fingers curling around the arms of his chair until the knuckles bleed white.

“And?” He asks, testing, gauging where you’re at. You’ve never gone through a breakup before, he doesn’t know what to expect, your face gives nothing away that he can read. 

He’s frozen when you move closer, legs spreading as you slide into his lap. A hard, gulping swallow, honey eyes like glass as his head falls back with you hovering over him and your hands braced against his chest, his heart rabbiting beneath your fingers.

Quietly, you tell him– “I’m sad. Heartbroken, actually.” 

Clearly, you’re not. 

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and his voice is hoarse when he replies. “What do you want me to do about it?”

You lower yourself to him, arms draped over his shoulders, your face at his neck so you can hear the little groan he chokes down when you shift around to get comfortable, his hands flying to your hips as if to push you away, or bring you closer. 

“Jus’ want you to hold me.” You murmur, nosing against his collar, feeling the unsteady pounding of his heart, how your own races to match it. 

So he does. He works with one arm rubbing at your back, chin resting on your shoulder so he can still see his screen. He doesn’t complain when you play with his hair, or when you take his phone so you have something to mess with while you stay draped over his lap. 

Just lounging around, not dissimilar to how you spend time with anyone else. 

But it feels different, relaxed and comfortable, hyperaware and sensitive, a dichotomy that Kei makes easy. 

–

Change doesn’t happen as quickly as you would think, after that. Classes are starting so rather than focusing on each other, your attention is diverted towards textbooks and copying notes. 

Still, you grow closer than before amidst it all. Rather than simply leaning against each other while you study, he’ll let you into his lap, arms overlapping while you read from separate books. Sometimes his touch lingers, rough fingers that slip beneath the hem of your shorts or long shirts, stroking soft skin and making you tingle everywhere he goes. You feel the phantom echo of his touch long after it’s gone, almost to the point that you can imagine what it would feel like if those fingers slipped higher, drifting between your thighs until they reached the apex. 

It’s those thoughts that keep you up. Shame and desire, guilt and anticipation, waiting for something but unsure of if you’re willing to take the final plunge. 

It’s clear how he feels, you think. Uncertain of if your own feelings are the same, if you’re even right to begin with, and the mess of it all keeps you walking a very fine line, testing the waters to be sure before you do something that can’t be taken back. 

So you watch him, watch how he is around you, thinking of if Akiteru was in his place and finding that your heart most definitely does not respond the same. 

How when you crawl on top of him, watching the hard bob of his throat as he waits for you to settle, it’s always as though bracing himself for incoming pain. He should be used to your cuddling by now, but he’s so tense at the start, always has to be soothed slowly into relaxing beneath you.

How he’s worse towards you on campus, now. At Karasuno he was vaguely rude in the beginning, but beyond that he treated you gently, not openly affectionate but still with a sort of warmth. 

Here, he’s colder. Distant. If he sees you between classes, you get maybe a tip of the head in acknowledgement, or he’ll text you during class and tell you that your makeup is smudged or something else meant to irk rather than upset. 

Definitely different, but you take it slow, mingling with your classmates to keep you from getting too in your own head about it all, knowing you’ll make yourself sick with stress if you focus on Kei’s treatment of you too much. 

There are no familiar faces here, though. No friends from a previous school to draw you into their circle, no one else that you know aside from Tadashi, who you see even less than Kei. 

And, worse, you feel drastically different this time around when people realize who your older brother is, and history repeats. 

People pulling you aside, other volleyball team members that are wondering why he left, some being more direct and asking you about his relationship status, for his number, some discreet in the way they try to approach you casually first, but you’ve learned from high school and ignore them outright. 

You’re a little cranky, most of the time, Kei notices but doesn’t push since he isn’t the problem, taking it in stride when you snap or get a little too much attitude. 

He still teases you, though, even with that new glint in his eyes as he pokes and prods at your stomach to make you laugh, holding you down when you squirm beneath him and try to get away. It’s different, charged, but neither of you cross the line. 

Even though you can see it clearly now, how badly he wants to. His hands will drift over your bare skin when he draws away, fingertips that twitch with the urge to sink in, to drag you close, you can feel the way his hips will stutter when you lock your legs around him to flip the position, still continuing the game but you know he’s thinking of something else entirely.

Thirty percent. 

–

“You’re Tsukishima’s baby sister, right?” 

The ‘baby’ grates at you, your jaw gritted before you can even turn around. “Yup, that’s me.” You drawl, adjusting the strap of your bag and leaning your weight to one side. “Need something?” 

She smiles, a demure little thing, you’re reminded of dark hair and blushing cheeks, the silly thought of being asked to give away your brother’s number without his consent. This one doesn’t ask for that, though. 

“There’s a party tomorrow at my place. I was hoping he’d come, but he never says yes when I ask.” She pouts, a little, lips a pretty shade of coral. “Would you ask for me? You can come if you want, just don’t drink the punch.” She winks at you, bumps you with her shoulder, and your annoyance lessens because at least she’s including you in the equation somehow. 

“Social activities are uh…not really his thing, if you couldn’t tell.” You muse, pleased when she bursts out with a laugh that cracks near the end, her eyes gleaming when you continue. “ –but, I’ll see what I can do. I’m good at getting my way, being the baby sister and all.” 

Her face brightens, and she looks at you with different eyes, appraising, before dipping her head. “I’m Hoshino. Even if he doesn’t come, I hope I’ll see you there?” It’s open-ended, hopeful, and you try not to look too happy when she scribbles her number on the inside of your wrist.

Kei notices when you come home in a good mood, leaning with his elbow on the kitchen counter and looking up as you walk in. 

You’re smiling, typing on your phone while looking between the screen and your wrist. You haven’t greeted him yet, haven’t even noticed he’s there, and his brow tilts in annoyance. 

“You’re going to trip.” He lies, watching as you falter mid-step and make yourself stumble over nothing in anticipation of an obstacle that isn’t there. 

“Kei!” You scowl, tossing your bag onto the couch and moving into the kitchen with him. “Don’t be a dick.” 

He turns around, following you as you stop at the fridge and pull it open, eyes a little narrowed. “What has you in such a good mood?” It’s sarcastic, but he hopes you give a serious answer anyway, curious about what had you grinning so much when for weeks you’ve been sullen and stormy. 

You perk up, water bottle in hand as you step close and lean into him, smiling despite the wary look he now wears. “We were invited to a party!” 

He rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses up and rubbing at the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. “Who was it? Koganegawa? Kyoutani hates parties, it wouldn’t be him. Akiro?” 

You shake your head, cracking open the lid on your water and taking a sip. “A girl named Hoshino.” 

His eyes widen briefly, then his brow furrows, lips pressed thin and twitching downwards. “I don’t want to go.” 

“Okay.” 

Stunned, he blinks, looking genuinely startled even though you’ve been turning down party invites on his behalf for years. You shrug, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder, warmed when his arm comes around you tentatively. “You hate parties, but she said I could go too even if you don’t, so I’m not gonna force you just so I can make friends.” 

He softens, melting with a murmur as he tips your chin up and gives you a muted look of guilt. “You’re lonely.” 

Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Just a little, I still talk to my friends back home, but you forget that I’m not as introverted as you are. I like people.” 

He nods, tracing the curve of your jaw with his knuckles. “Yeah.” He murmurs, nodding slowly. “I’ll go, and whenever you want to leave you can just use me as an excuse.” 

You lean into his hand, smiling with soft eyes up at him, oblivious to the way it makes his heart pick up. “Wouldn’t need it as an excuse.” You tease, looping your arms around his middle and locking your fingers together. “Five minutes in and you’ll be the one begging me to come home.” 

His brow climbs high, a disbelieving scoff puffing some of the hair out of your face. “I’m not begging for anything, if I want to leave I’ll just leave. You can find your own way home by now, I’m sure.” 

You can’t help smiling, though it's more because you can feel him trying to lean away from you, to avoid the press of your hips against his as you lean into his space. Sly, you press in closer to hear the way his breath hitches, feeling his hands twitch to grab and push you away, but he doesn’t. 

“Kei,” You drawl, low as you drag your locked hands up his back, smoothing your palms higher until the material of his shirt goes with them, feeling the way he shivers at your touch. “Would you really just abandon me at some stranger’s party?” His eyes roll, but you think it might not be so much because of your dramatics, but rather the way you carefully slot the twist of your hips between his thighs, bracketing them around you as you step in close. Voice a low, teasing whisper, you coo– “Now, that doesn’t sound like something a good big brother would do, does it?”

You feel him, pulsing against your thigh, and he’s so carefully still despite the way he clearly wants to shove you back. Hoping you won’t notice, maybe, or hoping you’ll at least pretend. You smile up at him, cloyingly sweet and he glares, but it’s such a feeble expression when you can tell he’s focusing so much more on not grinding against you. 

He’s completely silent when you step away, red in the face, trying so hard to look angry but the expression is wrong, far more riddled with desire than you’re sure he intends it to be. Like he wants to bend you over the counter, to fuck the snark out of you, but he turns his back to you the moment you’re out of his space instead. 

On your way out of the kitchen, however, as you turn to glance at him from over your shoulder, butterflies erupt in your stomach when you see him palming between his legs, brow pinched tight in an expression almost like pain, like yearning. 

8%

– 

You wake up the next morning to an email telling you that your early class is canceled, so you have an unexpected extra few hours to get ready for the party. 

There are a few things you need to throw in the washer first, so you get out of bed to reluctantly start laundry. You don’t have enough for a full load, so you poke your head into Kei’s room to ask if he has any clothes that need to be washed, but the question dies on your tongue when you see that he’s still in bed.

He’s on his side, facing the wall with his curtains drawn shut to block out the sunlight, blanket falling off his body and pooling at the floor. Quietly, you slip inside and tuck him back in, smoothing your hands down his shoulder and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek while you draw the blanket back over him. He murmurs softly and chases you as you withdraw, still deep in whatever stage of sleep he’s in, and you have to hold back the urge to coo at him for sounding so sweet. 

You’d rather not go through his things and risk disturbing him, so you drag your basket into the laundry room to strip off what you wore to bed and throw it carelessly on top. It won’t hurt to wait awhile for him to wake up first before asking if he has anything he needs cleaned.   

Taking advantage of your newly obtained freetime, you laze around in your room on your phone. Catching up, mostly, taunting your friends that are currently stuck in class by sending them pictures of you snuggled up in bed, exaggerating your comfiness until they tell you, not so politely, to fuck off. 

It only takes an hour or so before Kei is up, floorboards creaking quietly while he wanders through the hall. 

A minute after that, you get a text from him. 

Good luck in class today

Oh, he doesn’t know you’re home. 

An evil, evil idea comes to mind, pettiness surging in your chest as you recall all the failed scare attempts from your childhood, all the times he turned it around on you and succeeded. You have a rare opportunity. Kei is infallible in that way, you can never catch him off guard because he has your schedule memorized, and when he knows you’re at home he’s too in tune with you to ever not know when you’re just around the corner. 

It makes you giddy with anticipation, with intent. You want to make him scream, just once, just once you want to scare the hell out of him. 

You creep slowly up to your door, lifting the handle before pulling it open, knowing it will creak otherwise. 

The door to the laundry room is open, you can hear him moving around inside, uncapping detergent in a bottle that squeaks as it opens. You almost feel guilty for plotting to scare him when he might be doing your clothes, but you don’t let it deter you as you make your way down the hall. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees, bare skin sticking to polished wooden floorboards, you’re careful not to shuffle so the squeak doesn’t give you away. 

You peek around the doorway, low, finding him with his back to you and an arm outstretched with– 

Your panties are stretched between his fingers, twisting, turning them, and you could almost cry when you see the crotch is dark, damp with the two orgasms you’d wrung from yourself too late last night, still shiny with your slick from the one early this morning. 

Your muscles tense, already readying to lurch forward so you can snatch them from him and then cry in your room until you die of embarrassment, but then he moves. 

Leaning against the washer, you can see the anguish written all over his face, as his hands dip below his waist. You see him clearer now, a heavy outline through the thick material of his sweatpants, and as his fingers hook in the waistband to pull them low, the breath catches in your throat when his cock kicks as it's freed, bobbing heavy in the air and swollen. It’s already throbbing when he wraps your panties around it, the head lined up against the arousal you’d left behind. He chokes out a groan that sounds like an apology, and the first pump of his hand makes his knees buckle. 

“Fuck–” He gasps, free hand hurrying to clap over his mouth, then it rises to rip his glasses off and put them to the side. 

He leans his weight fully against the washer, head tilted back, chest heaving as he fucks the tight clench of his fist, the muscles in his thighs tensing with every thrust, sweat beading at his temples. He works his wrist in little half circles, squeezing tighter near the tip and letting out a moan that makes you tremble. Neck bared and flushed red, you can see him struggling to swallow his voice, choking on each pathetic attempt at cutting off a needy whine of regret, like he wants to stop so bad but it feels so good and he’s so sorry–

You watch, horrified, enthralled, as he works himself up to the brink, the drip of pre heavy from the tip of his cock, soaked into the blue cloth wrapped so tightly around it. He shudders hard, voice pitching, peaking, the pace of his hips jerking to an abrupt stop when he nearly falls over the edge.

He throbs so hard that you can see it, see the way it pulses against the impossibly tight grip he has on it, fingers curled at the base to stop himself from spilling. 

Kei whimpers, such a soft, sweet sound, and can bear to wait only a moment before he starts again. His chin tucks down to his chest, lips twisted and trembling, brow pinched with his skin flushed like a peach. He looks so guilty, so aroused that it hurts him. Teeth pull on his lips until they bleed, and his back arches, head falling back once more as his hips buck with a stuttered cry catching in his throat. 

Again, he holds it, panting so hard that you’re worried he’ll start to hyperventilate. 

“God…” He breathes, chokes. “I’m going to hell.” 

Mesmerized by him, the ripple of muscle as he curls in on himself, a rough inhale and hair falling in his screwed-shut eyes, so messy, so desperate. He fists his cock with a sudden sense of urgency, mouth dropped open in a silent cry when his whole body shakes, his free arm braced against the washing machine so he doesn’t fall. 

“I can’t.” He groans, hips twitching, trying to slow but his hand chases it instinctively, warring with himself. When he cums, your name is on his lips, soft, a shameful secret as he paints your panties white. He strokes himself through it, until he’s whining from oversensitivity but even then he doesn’t stop. 

You watch in a strange mix of emotions as he brings himself to the edge again, nearly sobbing with it, and as he pulls the soaked fabric away thick strands of cum stretch from the tip of his cock, glossy and heavy as it drips, and he lets out a strangled noise at the sight.

He stands there for a while, just staring, watching the way it sticks to him, the smear of shimmery arousal that must be yours leftover on his skin. Before he can recover, you’re quick and careful on the trek back to your room, trying so very hard not to combust with everything you just saw. 

It replays on loop, over and over, burned into your eyelids, like a sickness. 

You make yourself cum with his face in your mind twice, three times before it feels like you can breathe again, twitching, sweaty, shame hot in your cheeks. It’s new, and it’s not. Having it confirmed is dizzying, to see it so intimately, to see your infallible big brother weak in the knees because of you. 

After sitting with this revelation for over an hour, you take a shower. Cold water beats down on you, numbing you, but you still feel too hot inside, burning up with fever. 

You have no idea how you’re going to get through an entire party, not after this. 

When you come out of the shower, hair dripping, wrapped in a towel, you freeze when you find Kei waiting in your room. 

He’s holding your laundry, and at the sight of you the basket falls, clothes spilling onto your floor, the two of you too shocked to pay it any mind. 

“I didn’t hear you come home.” 

You swallow, tightening your grip on the folds of your towel, watching his eyes dip and then rise just as quickly. “Class ended early.” You lie, raspy. “Sorry, should have called but I wanted to start getting ready for tonight.” 

“Tonight.” He repeats, a little dumbly. “Tonight?” 

“The party?” You step closer, watching as he falters and then steadies, like he’s holding his ground for your approach, though his shoulders loosen when you move past him to your dresser instead. 

Defensive, like he’s scared of you. Does he know that you know?

“Right. The party.” He tries not to look at you while you lean over to sort through your drawers, but he stares, he can’t help it anymore, oblivious to the way you watch him from the mirror resting against your wall. 

It’s like after crossing that single line, he’s lost control of himself. Frantic, in a way, as he tries to find solid ground and only continues to scramble. He doesn’t know how to act, how to look. 

And, oh you have a mean streak just as big as his. 

You smile at him, sweet, and step into his space with the towel looser in your hands. “You don’t have to come, Kei.” You murmur, reaching to ghost your fingertips along his jaw. 

Kei is good at spotting lies, but all he sees right now is the water on your skin, the way your flimsy cover dips and he can almost see, like you’re taunting him. How is he meant to spot any signs of deception when you’re so pretty like this, when you sound so nice, and how the sugar of your affection sweetens him, leaves him candied. 

And it’s so hard when you’re so close, when he knows you’re a single width of cloth away from being naked in front of him, still dripping wet and flush from the cold-turned-hot shower that’s left you softened with steam. 

0%

For the first time in his life, Tsukishima Kei is incapable of looking at you like you’re his little sister at all.

“I want to.” He lies, because you’re so sweet and he can still smell the body wash–his– on your skin, because he’s pretty sure he’d do anything if you asked him to with the euphoria and guilt of his earlier mistake still in his system. He can’t tell you no like this, because he wants you so bad, because he feels like he should be dead for it. 

Your smile slips, teasing, a wry upturn to the corners. “No you don’t.” The towel falls, just a little, as you shift closer, as he backs up to make space for you until his legs hit your bed frame. “It’s okay, though. I told you already, I don't mind going by myself.” 

There is no way he is letting you go alone, not when he’s like this, not when he needs to know there won’t be other people putting hands on you. You know that, can see it with the way his brows draw together, frustrated at your suggestion, frustrated at himself for knowing why he doesn’t want it. 

“It’s not safe.” He argues, a truth but for selfish reasons. “You’ve never been to a college party before, and the last time you even drank was your graduation. Which you barely remember.” 

Low blow. 

Your pretty expression morphs into a scowl, pushing at his chest in an attempt to shove him back with the expectation that he’ll resist. He goes, but he drags you with him by your arm, pulling you into his lap as he does.

It’s clear too late when he realizes what he’s done, your legs split wide around his thighs, the towel parted up to your stomach, leaving you completely bare and drenched and dripping water onto his clothes. 

“Oh god.” He breathes, looking up into your face that is twisted with anger, and feeling like he’s more hard than he’s ever been with you pressing down on him and basically naked. 

Kei is not religious, but he prays to every god and ideal he can think of that you do not move any more to the left. 

“That was so unnecessary!” You hiss, pride wounded. “It was one time, and I don’t even know what my limit is so how am I supposed to know how much I can drink? You said we wouldn’t talk about it anymore!” You’re ranting, disregarding his distress, the way his eyes roll back when you push forward and his hips jut up in little aborted rocking motions. 

But it clicks when he shoves you off, when he’s snapping at you to ‘just hurry up and get dressed!’ as he flees your room, red creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears.  

You wear a cheshire’s smile for the rest of the time spent getting ready. 

– 

It’s your first time wearing a dress to a party. 

You prefer comfier clothes, slacks and button-downs are nice and more convenient to wear than a dress with a hem you have to fidget with. 

But you still have them. Short and slinky, long and sexy, hung up in your closet simply because you’d gone shopping with your friends and had been coaxed into buying things that would make you feel good to wear if you ever had a chance to wear them. 

And now you do, so you take advantage and peruse your little collection of nice dresses, wondering what would best suit a casual college party. Short and slinky seems more the play, something long better saved for a nice night out, not a party with solo cups and mixed alcohol. 

Black and ruffled, lace accents with straps that hang loose off of your shoulders, a pretty blue necklace that sparkles at the hollow of your throat. Clingy, shaped to your body but not skin-tight, not suffocating, as comfortable as can be while looking the way you do. Makeup is light, relying on the alcohol for a flush later as opposed to blushing your cheeks now. 

You have fun with it, legs smooth and silken, scrubbed with sugar in the shower. Lotion, buttery and very lightly scented. Phone in hand, heels in the other, you pad down the hallway and knock with your phone on Kei’s door. “Almost ready!" 

You hear the wheels of his chair as he pushes back from his desk, the door opening just as you’ve entered the living room to put your shoes on. 

He chokes, behind you, and you turn to him with a demure smile, a little coy. “Want me to send you the address, or do you already know where she lives?” 

Lips parted, he sucks in a low breath, the sound hissing between his teeth. His eyes track you, head to toe, lingering on the long stretch of bare skin that you usually do not display. Ignoring your question, he scowls. “You look like you’re trying to get laid.” 

He expects you to laugh, to cackle and wave him off like you always have any other time he’s accused you of trying to hook up. You thought it was teasing, back then, you can hear the jealousy for what it is now. 

You smile, lower your lashes, pluck at the material of your dress and roll it between your fingers, lifting the skirt just a bit higher in the process. “Maybe.” 

His face falls, slack with shock, before it tightens into something nervous just as you turn your back to put on your heels. 

“Absolutely not.” 

A smirk, fingers fastening the clasp. “I’m a grown woman, Kei.” You muse, tightening the strap a little to make sure it’s secure. “Don’t worry, I won’t bring anyone back here without permission, I’m nicer than that.” 

“You–” He drags a hand down over his face, taking his glasses with it before shooting you another glare, sharper. “You can’t, you don’t know anyone there.” He argues, stepping into your space, frantic now. His eyes are a little wild, breaths coming quick, and he’s crowding against you without even realizing it. You’re backed against the arm of the couch, nearly sitting on it as he presses in. Your legs part around him, and he pushes closer, jaw grit. 

“I don’t need to.” You shrug with one arm, deceptively disinterested as he hisses and pushes you down by the waist when you try to move, pinning you as he struggles with what he wants to say, the reply that burns at the tip of his tongue but refuses to come out. 

Because it’s wrong, and he knows it. 

“Mom told me to keep an eye out for you.” It’s such a weak argument, relying on mom when the nature of his intentions is so much more twisted. Still, he’ll use whatever he can, anything to stop the thoughts of you twisted around with another body, someone holding you, touching you, tasting you– 

“Mom isn’t here.” 

His pupils dilate, lips parting, and this time he goes when you push him back. Staring at you with wicked eyes, he doesn’t fight it when you move away from him to put on your second shoe, following like a ghost as you lead him out of the apartment. 

A little too strong, maybe, but his feelings for you are written all over his face, his mask ripped clean off. There’s no doubting it, now, so you can finally play a little. 

–

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #ive posted this twice by accident while high #whole thing is 54k words idk if tumblr will like this... #tsukishima kei #lol oops

[greentrickster]

Before Binghe starts actively courting Shizun he realizes that he’s going to have to deal with his most dangerous opponent in this goal: Liu Qingge. He is a powerful adversary who has an (annoying) amount going for him and also those four years Binghe wasn’t there to bond with him. This will take strategy, and a deft hand.

Binghe: (pointing at the third slide of thirty-six slide presentation on why it would be better for Shizun to marry him first) Furthermore, Big Bro Liu is a skilled warrior, but has demonstrated no ability or training in keeping house or entertaining company, both of which are key duties of the first spouse. I, in contrast, have been training for such things my whole life, and would in fact prefer to be the one to handle such things-

(Slide seven gets into how LQG, being a war god, would be better suited for protecting Shizun from enemies and finding him cool monsters via night hunts)

(Slide nine allows for the possibility of LQG taking Shizun along on night hunts, but Binghe gets to come too because he doesn’t trust LQG’s cooking skills)

(Slide fifteen is just “Can you even balance a budget?”, that’s it, that’s the whole slide, it is accompanied by a pointed look and nothing more)

(Slide seventeen gets into how two balance two peak lords being married to each other and living arrangements)

(Slide twenty-two I’m the caretaker, you’re the provider, and Shizun is spoiled rotten, this is how things should be)

(Slide twenty-five admits that Binghe and LQG will probably have to start getting along if they want this to work since Shizun likes both of them)

(Slide twenty-six adds that, as a husband instead of househusband, LQG has 0% right to wearing a character apron. He can have a regular one to help around the house if asked, if he has complaints learn how to do laundry, the character apron is a privilege, not a right)

(Slide twenty-seven puts forth a potential breakdown of timetables for when they should each start courting and how they should support each other in these endeavors)

(Slide thirty-five relents that this is, of course, all hinged on Shizun being willing to marry either of them - Shizun’s word is law)

(Slide thirty-six: Questions?)

Liu Qingge has many questions and much confusion, especially over the fact that Binghe seems to be making some legitimately good points and have some decent ideas in here, especially regarding both their strengths and weaknesses.

And, while I do enjoy a nice throuple with these three, a good ol’ equilateral triangle relationship, in this AU I like the idea of Shen Qingqiu being in romantic relationships with both Binghe and Liu Qingge, and Binghe and Liu Qingge in a queer platonic relationship with each other. The idea of them somehow sliding into this quiet, mutually supportive relationship laced with non-sexual intimacy and shoring up each others’ weaknesses. And Luo Binghe stays home while Liu Qingge comes and goes as he needs and pleases, and they all give and receive different things from each other.

Thinking about it, it might be interesting if Liu QIngge was actually more comfortable with Binghe visiting his dream realm than Shen Qingqiu, just because in his dream realm there’s the whole environment to communicate what he wants to say instead of just words, which he has a hard time with. Possibly Binghe could teach him a little about controlling his personal dream realm, maybe learn how to send messages in dreams so he has a way to call for help if something happens on a mission or night hunt and there’s no one nearby to help him. In return, Liu Qingge helps Binghe re-hone his sword skills (regardless of iteration, this world they live in is dangerous and fighting skills are basically a requirement, even for a househusband), since he and Binghe are both physical cultivators in contrast to Shen Qingqiu’s spiritual cultivation...

...also this was meant to be a semi-humorous post about Binghe trying to get Liu Qingge to go along with his plans via a slideshow, when did it turn into serious relationship development and exploration between the two of them and how this relationship fits into this AU...?

Anyway, point is, these two can be super hot together, but I’ve enamored myself with them quietly leaning on each other in this AU as they care for the man they both love in their own ways.

#The Hopeful Hybrid's Househusbanding System #luo binghe #liu qingge #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #bingliushen

[clangenrising]

Month 2 - April Gathering

The night of the full moon was quiet and gentle, if a bit chilly. Pantherhaze bounced excitedly alongside his clanmates as they headed up the hill towards the forest and the Cornerstones. 

Gatherings were tricky these days. Not only did Goldenstar have to worry about balancing the amount of cats left to guard camp with the cats who would attend which was harder with the Clan’s small size, but there was always the fear that the gathering would lead to another outbreak which made attending at all a serious decision. It had been three moons since a gathering had even been held and longer still since Pantherhaze had been able to attend and he couldn’t help but get his hopes up now that the healers had given everyone the go ahead. 

Goldenstar led him, Nightfrost, Sagetooth, Smokyrose, and Songdust through the shrubbery, her tail held high. Pantherhaze could already hear and smell SkyClan and FallenClan cats mingling in the clearing ahead and he felt his tail fluffing up at the infectious energy. 

“Easy there,” Smokyrose rasped with a chuckle and he ducked his head shyly. “It’s not going to be that exciting, mind you.” 

“That’s easy for you to say, Smokyrose,” Songdust said. “You got to see the other Clans during your mediating. We’ve barely scented them since Leaf-fall.” Pantherhaze nodded, hoping to add weight to Songdust’s argument. 

“I suppose you have a point,” Smokyrose relented graciously. “Just keep in mind that we’re not the only Clan who lost a lot of cats this Leaf-bare. It will likely be a very small, unimpressive gathering.” 

“Right,” Pantherhaze frowned, effectively chastened. Even Songdust went soberly quiet. The patrol emerged from the foliage to behold the Cornerstones, the mossy ruins of a long abandoned twoleg nest that had mostly crumbled. Only one corner of the nest remained, sides sloping up to a point where two cats sat, quietly conversing. 

Pantherhaze gasped. 

“Oh, no,” he whispered. “What happened to Lionstar?” Snowstar, he recognized, their white pelt glistening in the moonlight, but instead of the pale ginger figure of Lionstar, his deputy Flightgaze was perched on top of the Cornerstones. The sleek blue tabby turned his gaze towards the RisingClan cats as they entered and he frowned. 

“I imagine he died,” Sagetooth remarked. “Same as Sunstar.” Pantherhaze fell silent, realizing that the other Clans probably hadn’t heard about Sunstar’s death, just as he hadn’t heard about Lionstar. They had only learned about Thrushstar’s death in EarthClan because Stormwhisper had come begging for Sagetooth’s help in treating him when he lost two lives in as many days. It was terrifying to think about. Not only could the plague chew through all nine of a leader’s lives, but it had claimed three of the four cats who had stood atop the Cornerstones this time last year. He whispered a prayer of thanks to StarClan for allowing it to pass him over. 

Looking over the gathered cats, it seemed many had not been so lucky. Including leaders, deputies, and healers, neither Clan had brought more than six cats - not that RisingClan was much better with their seven. It also seemed that despite arriving at the gathering neither SkyClan nor FallenClan were comfortable mingling amongst each other like they used to. 

Goldenstar looked back at her Clan and said, “Best behavior, yeah?” 

“Of course!” Pantherhaze said, straightening his posture. Goldenstar chuckled and winked at him, causing his face to flush a little under his fur. She glanced at Nightfrost and the two of them split from the group to head to the Cornerstones. Nightfrost meowed a greeting as she approached the other deputies and Goldenstar bounded up the sloped side to join Snowstar and - Patherhaze suddenly realized - Flightstar. Sagetooth headed over to sit apart from the other Clans and without thinking, the rest of RisingClan followed. 

“Wait,” Pantherhaze thought out loud as they settled down, “if Flightgaze is Flightstar now, who’s deputy?” 

“You have eyes, don’t you?” Sagetooth grumbled, flicking her tail towards the deputies gathered on the rubble below the Cornerstones, where a young white and grey cat was stiffly giving a nod to Nightfrost. 

“Pigeoncover?” Songdust frowned. “They haven’t even finished training their first apprentice.”

Smokyrose hummed thoughtfully. “I think he became Tumblefang last moon.” 

“Still,” Songdust huffed. “Last moon? Pigeoncover must be barely two years old! There are other warriors much more qualified to be deputy.” 

Pantherhaze shifted uncomfortably and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “Isn’t Flightgaze- uh, Flightstar their father?” 

“Mhm,” Smokyrose’s whiskers twitched. An uneasy quiet settled over the little group until, several minutes later, the bushes rustled and Orangestar came out of the trees with five cats in tow. Much like RisingClan, the EarthClan cats picked up on the strange energy and settled down away from the others while the leader and deputy took their places on the Cornerstones. 

“Alright,” Snowstar called, rising to her feet, “now that everyone is here, let’s begin!”

“First of all, let me just say, it’s good to be here tonight, under the sight of StarClan with all of you. It’s been too long. However, I’m proud of everyone for taking the Red Gut contagion seriously and taking the necessary precautions. It’s thanks to those safety measures, the hard work of our healers, and the guidance of StarClan that we have managed to come out the other side of this plague with our heads held high.” She glanced down to the clump of SkyClan cats and said, “I’d like to give some time to Tangletooth who has a bit to say about anti-plague precautions.” 

Tangletooth, an elderly, speckled ginger tom, rose to his paws, licked his whiskers, and nodded to his leader. “Thank you,” he said, voice rough and dry. The little noise the crowd was making diminished as all the cats strained to hear what he was saying. “I want to echo everything Snowstar has said and… give an additional warning. While it is understandable to be excited to put the plague behind us, I would urge you not to become blinded by relief. Every cat must stay vigilant for signs of Red Gut - sneezing fits, fever, headaches, running eyes and nose, upset stomach… and especially retching or liquid dirt.” 

He paused to take a few breaths and collect his thoughts. “Stay vigilant. Watch for these signs in both yourselves and your clanmates and report them to your healers immediately if you find them. If it is Red Gut, you will be put into isolation and it is of the utmost importance that you respect this quarantine. If you are ill, follow the direction of your healer and stay away from your clanmates. If you are well, do not attempt to visit the ill. Doing so risks the destruction of your entire Clan.” 

Pantherhaze looked down at his paws, remembering his sisters who had succumbed to the disease in two days. He had listened to Sagetooth and stayed away and because of that he had survived but he had never been able to say goodbye to them. He flinched, roused from his stupor by Smokyrose’s tail resting gently against his side. He smiled through tight lips at her and leaned closer, grateful for the unspoken comfort. 

“Uh… Thank you.” Tangletooth finished, slightly distant, and settled down again. SkyClan’s mediator, Heatherfuzz, leaned in to check on him, whispering in his ear as he nodded, muttering absently.

Snowstar dipped her head to her healer before lifting her posture again to address the crowd. “All of that said, SkyClan is officially free of disease and looking forward to the rest of Newleaf.” She took a small step back and glanced to either side to offer the stage to one of her fellow leaders. Goldenstar hesitated for a beat before starting to step forward. Flightstar beat her to the punch, standing up suddenly and drawing the crowd’s attention with a lash of his whip-like tail. 

“Last week,” he began, “Red Gut claimed Lionstar’s remaining lives, but with his death, we have finally left the sickness in the past. FallenClan stands strong as we leave Leaf-bare, returning to our full glory day by day. As leader, it is my first priority to oversee our Clan’s efforts to rebuild. We have already named a new warrior, Tumblefang,” he gestured with his chin towards the young white and grey tabby in the crowd below. She puffed up her chest proudly, letting her gaze fall cooly over the assembled cats. Pantherhaze grinned widely at her and waved his tail in congratulations, but if she noticed, she didn’t give any sign. 

“And,” Flightstar continued, “we have another apprentice who is close to graduating herself.” He gave a small trill of pride and sat back down folding his tail neatly over his paws. Goldenstar cast him a glance as if to make sure that he wasn’t about to interrupt again and then stepped forward. Her gaze panned the crowd and Pantherhaze made sure to give his best encouraging smile to her. He was certain it was stressful to be on top of the Cornerstones in front of everyone and hoped that he could somehow reassure her from below.

She took a deep breath and began to speak. “Likewise, I must sadly report that Sunstar was claimed by Red Gut last moon. While her absence will surely be felt, I am certain that RisingClan will recover quickly in the coming days. In the wake of this tragedy, I want to ask everyone to remember that it was cooperation and unity that got us through this tragedy. Let us carry those things forward into a new season of prosperity for all.” Flightstar’s ear twitched. Pantherhaze glanced at him, reading disdain on the tom’s pointed muzzle. He wondered if Flightstar would say something but if there was something on the leader’s mind, he didn’t speak it. Goldenstar watched him for a moment and, when she was satisfied he wasn’t going to interrupt again, she turned her gaze to Orangestar on her other side, face softening just a bit. 

Orangestar sat up sharply, realizing it was her turn to speak, and stood up, fluffy ginger tail swishing side to side. “Right.” She said, almost to herself. “Likewise, EarthClan was hit hard by the plague. I’m sure you’ve all heard about Thrushstar’s untimely passing by now. In the months since then, I have been working tirelessly to ensure the safety of my clanmates. I am proud to announce not only that EarthClan is also free of disease, but that we have two new apprentices with us.” Pantherhaze’s ears perked. Red Gut had been particularly fatal for kits and had spread through the nurseries like wildfire. To have two new apprentices was surely a testament to the Clan’s dedication to following their healer’s guidance. 

“Dawnpaw has been apprenticed to Sprucespeckle and I have taken Toadpaw as my own apprentice.” Everyone looked to the apprentices in question, a pale blue and ginger torbie and a speckled brown tom sitting at the back of the crowd. The tom looked nervously around while his sister sat taller, eyes fixed on Orangestar with a fondness tinged with anxiety.

Orangestar nodded to her with a smile and continued. “We are all looking to the future with hope and courage, as exemplified by these two young cats.”

Pantherhaze tilted his head to whisper to Smokyrose. “They look more nervous than courageous.” 

“Those things aren’t opposites,” she shrugged. “I would be nervous too. The hopes and dreams of a Clan are a lot to pin on two orphans.” 

“Oh.” Pantherhaze’s stomach dropped. He looked forward again, tail curling around his paws as that solemn thought weighed upon his mind. 

Orangestar looked around, not sure what to do, and eventually said, “That’s all.” 

Snowstar nodded and declared, “Then with that, the gathering is over. Feel free to mingle for a while. It’s been a long time since we’ve had the opportunity to talk amongst ourselves.” The crowd was hesitant at first, shifting and murmuring, but seeing Snowstar leap down to speak with Nightfrost, cats slowly began to break from their Clan groups.

“Why don’t we go say hello to the new apprentices?” Smokyrose suggested and Pantherhaze nodded, a smile spreading on his face.

“Yeah, alright,” he agreed, leaning down to help support her as she stood. The older she-cat thanked him and together, they padded to the back of the clearing to greet the young cats and wish them well.

---------

Author's note: Thanks to everybody who read all the way through. Most gatherings won't be quite this long, just the notable ones. I figured our first Full Moon Gathering was worthy of a bigger piece.

#clan gen #clangen #clan gen oc #clangen oc #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #RisingClan #FallenClan #SkyClan #EarthClan #Goldenstar #Snowstar #Flightstar #Orangestar #Pantherhaze #Smokyrose #Sagetooth #Songdust #Pigeoncover #clangenrising #Full Moon Gathering #Newleaf #Tangletooth #Dawnpaw #Toadpaw #writing #gathering #full moon gathering

[chicohungers24-7]

Some parallels between Spinel and Nine (in no particular order)

(forgive me I haven't seen the movie in a while)

1. Have a less jaded version of themself that they believe the protagonist prefers

Mostly self explanatory. Spinel outright states that she thinks Steven prefers the older her that's "innocent, loving," and "stupid." We know this isn't the case because Steven is repeatedly shown to be uncomfortable around her because he's focused on fixing his friends and preventing the planet earth from. Dying. (I'm not condemning Steven here. This entire plot point spawns from the misunderstanding)

With Sonic and Nine, it's a bit more complicated. Sonic repeatedly calls Nine "Tails" (or "Tails Nine" to Thorn Rose) but also tells Shadow that Nine is real and is offended on his belief when Shadow says that none of the shattered versions are real. But Nine doesn't see Sonic come to his defense and only sees the slip ups. So when he finally sees the ghost hill version of Tails, with his one repeat line that reeks of endless optimism, Nine rejects any similarities they may have.

2. Idolize the protagonist

Steven is kind of set up from the start with him being Spinel's diamond. After he uses the rejuvenator on her, she is programmed to put him on a pedestal. Spinel is only Pink Diamond's plaything, after all. But after Drift Away and Found, the present Spinel falsely believes that Steven is the person that will help her recover from her abandonment when Steven was speaking generally that someone will help her.

While it takes some time for Nine to warm up to Sonic, all it took was Sonic being the first person to kind towards Nine for him to become loyal to Sonic (it also helps that Sonic used his "last words" in S1E2 to address Nine). He pretends to be bitter when coming back to Sonic leads to him being captured by the Chaos Council, but he still expresses his support for Sonic, Insisting that anything the council throws at him will not be enough. Nine risks it all to play prisoner and watch as most of the shards end up in the council's hands just so he has the chance to create the perfect world for him and Sonic and it's not until the very last second that he realizes that Sonic's goal and priority is not the Grim. It's getting back to Tails (and the others!)

3. The protagonist breaks this view and it leads to conflict

This actually is the point that made me think of making a whole post out of this. "Well what now? I did what you wanted, that's it?" vs "What did you think would happen to me when you brought your friends back?"

They both have to fix something for the heroes. For Spinel, it's removing the injector and for Nine it's putting the shards back together. But once that is done, they realize that they don't have the same goal in mind as the hero.

I find it interesting that Steven wants to go back to his happy ending and that ending does not include Spinel, which is what causes her to spiral. This contrasts Sonic's hope that he can bring back Green Hill as well as keep being friends with Nine, but Nine is the one the says that can't happen. They can't have Green Hill and the Grim at the same time.

4. World Ending Giant Crystal Tower

Okay the Citadel technically isn't the thing ending the world like how the injector is (not to mention Nine isn't ending the world he's ending the multiverse), but it is the center piece of the entire idea.

They both use their towers to stand above the hero(es) and the fighting that takes place on the top are the most important. It's where Spinel has her final breakdown and where Nine becomes his most murderous.

Most notably between the two, is that damaging the tower is when the deescalation of the conflict begins. Spinel destroys the injector during her breakdown and they break through Nine's Citadel to get into his lab, where he realizes just how far he's pushed everything.

5. They just wanted to be friends

Not a lot of words for this one. Spinel says it herself and while Nine doesn't have to say it, we already know it's true. He wanted Sonic to be in the Grim with him.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk

#sonic prime #tails nine #nine the fox #steven universe #steven universe movie #sth #su #spinel #Chico Chatters #I'm not a steven universe blog please have mercy LOL

[paradoxcase]

Harrow the Ninth Pronunciation Guide

I keep coming back to that idea that he might have picked this name because of Caesar. It would be so funny if that was actually the case. Like, it would be like if in some future where the US had somehow ceased to exist, I don't know, conquered, destroyed, disestablished, whatever, only subject matter for historians now, etc. and some world leader was like, man, George Washington was really cool, I really admire that guy, I want everyone to think about George Washington when they hear my name. So I'm going to change my last name to George, because who else was there even who was named George? I bet this is exactly what the ancient Americans did to invoke this great man

But now I'm curious about how much of Earth's old cultural whatnot was still public knowledge 100 years after the Resurrection. Like, people don't seem to remember anything about that era anymore, but surely the people who were resurrected all knew about it, and I doubt all that knowledge just disappears in a generation. Did people know John's name back then, and its links to Christianity and at least that Gaius was a Roman name?

Ok, so, not really related to the pronunciation at all, but it occurs to me that we've now learned that Augustine and probably also Mercy and Gideon and their cavaliers would have been born on pre-Resurrection Earth and resurrected by John, since they are the founders of their Houses, right? And if supposedly all of the people who were resurrected spoke English, and English is still the operating language of the Nine Houses, they should have English names, right? Alfred is a perfectly traditional English name; Cristabel is not exactly traditional but perfectly believable as a name that someone would be given; Gideon, sure, biblical names never go out of fashion in the anglosphere, even the weird ones, for real I went to college with a guy named Cain; Augustine, well, Augustus has a fine tradition as a name, that seems like a believable variation on that. But are we meant to believe that there were English-speaking people on Earth before the Resurrection named Mercymorn and Pyrrha? I could buy Mercy by itself as a woman's name given by some incredibly religious Christians or something, but "Mercymorn" seems to be following the standard we have in these books of two part names like Harrowhark and Coronabeth and Jeannemary, which is not something that i think came from any Earth tradition. And I can't imagine anyone would have been named Pyrrha. Maybe her parents were Classics nerds, or something?

Augustine and Alfred were like quite possibly the very first people to ever have an arithmonym. How could there possibly have been any implications about any use of them at that point?

Honestly, I feel like it works much better as a reference to Pyrrhus, just in terms of names being significant in the context of the story, because of what happened to Gideon in the fight against Number Seven

It's kind of funny that she wrote a whole paragraph about this, but at no point did she actually define "dactylic enneameter" for anyone who didn't recognize the roots, as, presumably, a poetic meter where each verse consists of nine metric feet, which each consist of two unstressed syllables followed by a stressed one

This pronunciation makes me realize this is supposed to be apo + pneumatism. But the pneuma root is about movement of air. Is thanergy a force that only moves or exists or emanates/radiates due to the presence of air molecules, like sound? Is that why there is so little thanergy in space, and not just because there isn't a source of thanergy nearby? Light can obviously travel for huge distances from the source through space, because it doesn't rely on air molecules

I'm fairly certain that every other English word that derives from Greek meso- is pronounced either /mɛzoʊ/ or /mɛsoʊ/, so why is this one /misoʊ/?

#the locked tomb #harrow the ninth

[pilot-boi]

Thank you for notifying me about this crime, I shall rectify it:

How did Jaune encounter his patron? Did she trick him? Did he misunderstand?

Also, why do I get the feeling Jaune is accidentally good at illegal shit?

*cracks knuckles* Let me find my notes…

Strap in this is gonna be a long one

Like a really long one. I haven’t gotten to talk about this AU in MONTHS so prepare for what is basically a whole overview of Jaune’s whole arc throughout the campaign

Jaune’s wasn’t even aware that he was an aasimar until he was like 15. His whole family was born with golden hair, and sapphire eyes, and the mark of the Sun on their forehead, so to him it was just how things were

Besides, there’s people from his village who can make trees bloom with a wave of their hands, so being especially blonde wasn’t that weird

Not sure how it happens, kidnapping, trafficking, village is attacked, but somehow the boy and most of not all of his siblings are captured and thrown into a fighting ring scenario

Cue awakening of aasimar heritage in all the Arc kiddos, which helps them survive in the ring. Trauma time woohoo, they’re trapped there for literal months

Eventually, in a dream, Jaune accidentally makes a deal with a dark entity, telling it “I don’t care what you want, just please get me out of here”

The entity obliges, to the letter, JUST getting Jaune out of there, and leaving the ring burning in their wake

His siblings aren’t dead, they escape during the chaos and eventually make their way back home, but Jaune thinks that he’s responsible for all of their deaths

And as the days go on, he realizes he can… do things that he never could before

“Magic, my little bird. A gift for performing so well for me,” a dark voice whispers in his dreams

He doesn’t know it, but his patron ends up being the BBEG, AKA Salem. And for once, I didn’t decide this, you can blame @harmonylight for that one

Plot goes on, Jaune questioning every choice he makes because is it really his choice? Or is it this dark force giving power to protect people and himself? How free actually is he, or is he still trapped just like he was in the ring?

Late campaign is rough, when the party starts speaking out against Salem. It’s obvious she’s the BBEG by this point. There’s a whole cult, Nora’s mom was a member of it. Nora stops trusting him for a bit until Jaune deep in his feels does something SUPER reckless to protect her.

They more they speak out against Salem, the more she manipulates Jaune into thinking his friends hate him. Worse, they unknowingly make it easier for her by distancing themselves to protect him

The party keeps waking up for watch with him watching them, or standing over them. Anything Salem can puppet him to do to be less trustworthy. Trying to put a schism between him and them

Jaune of course remembers none of this. “See? They don’t trust you, little bird. They don’t CARE about you”

Jaune doesn’t remember doing it, but he also fully believes it’s happening. And while he believes Salem that his friends must hate him/be afraid of him he also takes it as the threat it truly is

“Look how easily I could kill them, and you can’t stop me? Look how helpless you are”

Penny is a big part of helping him realise that Salem isn't fully in control of him that he can resit and he can beat her. There’s nothing shippy, they’re bros

There’s an arc just before the end that goes REALLY bad for Jaune, he’s becoming more and more convinced that he’s a bad person, that he’s dangerous, that he’s going to get all of his friends killed just like his family

And THATS when he finds out that his family is actually alive. And that gives him something to resist for, because now he has a home to return to. Because one thing that is true about all Jaunes, he is dogshit at fighting for himself and great at fighting for others

Luckily, because she’s just his patron, they can kick her ass without worrying about hurting Jaune. The campaign ends in the nine hells, fighting Salem herself

Cinder is also a warlock of Salem. They meet her a few times throughout the campaign, each time a little more corrupted. She’s actually the first minion they fight when they reach the hells, and by that point she’s FULLY puppet, not a scrap of Cinder actually left

Sort of a “This is what could’ve happened/could STILL happen to Jaune if this doesn’t end soon” It went faster for Cinder because she’s been bonded for longer and also because she fully indulged in what Salem wanted of her

But by the end of the campaign the first bits of corruption are starting to show on Jaune. They mostly go away after Salem is sealed away, but the physical affects are still there

After all of that, obviously Jaune doesn’t have magic. No patron means no warlock. He borrows some books from Tai and Emerald (both wizards) and studies to learn what he can.

But mostly he finally relaxes, surrounded by the family he thought he lost, and the family he gained because of that loss

#rwby #jaune arc #salem #rwby dnd #mine #asks #anonymous

[breithenua]

I'd love to see a fanfic of Naruto in which Fugaku was made Hokage, but not the 4th instead of Minato like I see examples of on YT. Instead I want to see one where he becomes the 5th Hokage after Minato's death, because Fugaku disobeys the orders from the top to patrol the borders during the Nine Tails attack, and actually goes and helps subdue the Nine Tails himself.

How I personally could see it happening, though obviously someone writing said fanfic would make their own version of events: Technically this *should* result in him being disciplined for disobeying orders, but the majority of the village is way too grateful to him and the other Uchiha for the top brass to dare trying to discipline him, especially with the entire Uchiha clan being behind him. Maybe Hiruzen himself looks at the situation after the fact as a whole and decides he was wrong to go along with Danzo's idea to keep the Uchiha away from the Nine Tails during the attack.

Why does Minato still die in this scenario? Someone still has to seal the Nine Tails again, and we know he's already low enough on chakra at this point from having to have fought Obito/"Madara" by himself that he can't seal the entirety of Kurama inside Naruto, only half, and has to use the Reaper Death Seal to seal the other half.

Difference is since Fugaku and other Uchiha helped subdue Kurama faster, Minato and Kushina don't have to be turned into a shishkabob defending Naruto from Kurama's toenail, and the damage from Kurama himself is minimized a lot more. Minato still dies, and ultimately Kushina's gonna die too since Kurama was extracted from her, but she at the very least lives long enough to tell Hiruzen and the other elders what happened. Best case scenario, she lives for maybe 5-10 years afterward (remember, Mito, Hashirama's wife lived for 10 years after Kurama was extracted from her, and she was already elderly at that point). This means Naruto has at least one parent for at least part of his early childhood. Someone to stick up for Naruto and not tolerate the terrible job Hiruzen did of keeping his promise to Minato to look out for Naruto.

Since Kushina would live longer in this scenario and be able to tell the others what would happen, it would mean the top brass could make the same deduction that Minato made, that it was "Uchiha Madara". This means they can't as easily try to blame the Uchiha that are still living in the village, especially when they helped subdue Kurama (though Danzo would fucking try. God he's the worst). The "realization"/assumption that it was Madara and he's not only still alive but still strong enough at his age to fight the 4th AND control Kurama, and seeming to not have aged at all, would motivate Konoha to REALLY start taking military precautions to get stronger and concentrate on finding ways to fight him off the next time he shows up. This includes looking at living Uchiha members as possible counters to Madara himself, namely *Fugaku*. The man that did the most in this scenario to stop Kurama's rampage. They'd be very motivated in this case to name him as Minato's successor in this case. Protecting Naruto and training him becomes an even higher priority, not knowing when "Madara" would come back to try again (not knowing Minato was able to permanently sever his connection to Kurama with that sealing jutsu, Minato maybe didn't have time to relay that information). Either way, they know that the jinchuuriki of Kurama is a target by outside forces. This also puts more pressure on the top brass to make sure an Uchiha member is near Naruto all the time to make sure he doesn't lose control of Kurama, as he's trained to control Kurama.

Fugaku being Minato's successor would also put pressure on Fugaku to fulfill Minato's dying wishes to protect and take care of Naruto. Maybe once Kushina ultimately does die from having Kurama extracted from her, he and Mikoto personally adopt him and raise him, with a significant amount of pressure on Fugaku from Mikoto herself (as we know she was friends with Kushina). I think Fugaku would be a bit of a less strict father in this scenario as he's not under pressure from the rest of the clan to *literally overthrow the Leaf Village's government*. Itachi and Sasuke essentially have a 3rd sibling now to grow up with that depends on them to keep him in check, but also keeps him from being lonely. He also grows up knowing who his parents are, has talented adopted brothers to train with (though he'll still be a late bloomer to an extent, I don't think he'll be the literal laughingstock of the Academy considering he'll have actual support, self-confidence and validation from his adopted family). Though maybe Naruto's identity as a jinchuuriki and the 4th's son is still kept secret from the village as a whole. Or maybe just the fact that he's a jinchuuriki, but people still know he's the 4th's son. Up to the writer, honestly. It makes sense why Hiruzen wanted his identity kept secret to protect Naruto in the original canon, afterall. But either way, Naruto would actually know the truth.

In this case, perhaps Hiruzen *actually* acts as sort of a grandfather-like figure to Naruto as well instead of just being an old man that pays for his groceries or talks to him every once in a while. Maybe he does a little training of Naruto (and by extension Sasuke and maybe even Itachi himself, seeing as he's not preoccupied with being Hokage again).

Maybe Hiruzen actually makes time to guilt Jiraiya to come and meet his god-son once in a while. This results in Naruto going to Mount Myoboku sooner in the timeline (seeing as his father presumably went as well, having Toad sage mode and frog summons himself, it'd make sense to establish that tie with Naruto too), though I don't think his training there would happen that much faster. At most he gets Sage mode a year sooner. If you really stretch it then maybe a year and a half to 2 years sooner. Afterall, this is still Naruto, and he's still a gigantic ball of ADHD energy. You'd still have to send someone with a sharingan with him just to be cautious of course. This could be how Naruto meets Kakashi. Afterall, he has a Sharingan, was anbu for much of his teen/early adult years, was Minato's student, and by extension knew Jiraiya as well. I think Fugaku as Hokage (and adopted father to Naruto) would find that fitting when authorizing such a trip.

Speaking of Fugaku as Hokage, there would be some changes of course. Starting with there being more Uchiha in Anbu ranks, maybe with allowing non-Uchiha into the ranks of the Konoha Military Police force as a balance to pacify the elders that would be against this (and because I think Fugaku would realize that letting the Uchiha and non-Uchiha mingle more would be better for the village in the long run), and the Anbu and Military police would work together more harmoniously.

Danzo would probably still try to assassinate the Hokage, it'd just be Fugaku instead, snd for a different reason: Danzo's hate and jealousy of the Uchiha. He'd be even angrier thanks to the exact opposite of what he wanted to do happening after the Nine Tails attack, too. And unlike Hiruzen, Fugaku probably wouldn't be nearly as lenient. He's a ninja cop afterall. Danzo would at the very least be imprisoned for life, and made to divulge everything he knows (as well as losing that fucking Hashirama cell arm and however many stolen Sharingan he had at that point). As much as I'd personally like for Danzo to be summarily executed, that's probably not what would happen. But lifetime imprisonment is a good alternative. The Root would definitely be disbanded as a result as well. And as a result of Danzo and the Root's secrets being divulged sooner, a little more would be known about Hashirama cells a la Danzo's weird-ass arm. Maybe said research could be used to stave off the blindness that comes later on with the Mangekyo Sharingan, and/or Kakashi's stamina issues with his own Sharingan could be somewhat alleviated with said research. Not a lot since Tsunade isn't there, but a little bit.

Speaking of Tsunade, you can bet your ass when Itachi gets his chakra illness that Fugaku would send people to find Tsunade to have her treat him. Afterall, Itachi couldn't exactly find the best medical care in the canon timeline because of his status as a missing-nin/notorious criminal and mass-murderer of his own clan. In this scenario Itachi would have had no reason to carry out the Uchiha clan downfall, so he'd have access to legitimate medical care. Would Tsunade be able to save his life? I don't know. She'd almost certainly be able to prolong it or make him more comfortable without reducing his combat capabilities nearly as much, though.

Maybe through dealing with Tsunade and her fear of blood, some investigation into the Sharingan's uses for hypnosis/psychotherapy would be suggested. Seriously it's amazing how well the Sharingan could have been used for dealing with people's mental health issues, with it's uses of genjutsu, hypnosis, etc. It's too bad we never got to see those sorts of applications in the main timeline.

I might add more to this later today, but I'm tired and need a slight bit more sleep before my class today so for now this is where I leave it.

#naruto #fugaku uchiha #hiruzen sarutobi #alternate timeline #minato namikaze #kushina uzumaki #4th hokage #5th hokage #hokage #fanfic

[fromtheseventhhell]

I don't want to imply only Arya antis think she'll go to the Riverlands first lol I'm pretty sure us Arya stans came up with the theory she'll reunite with Lady Stoneheart and give her the gift of mercy in the first place. Unfortunately though there are a lot of people whose speculation for Arya starts and ends at her killing people and disappearing off the face of the earth or realizing "revenge is bad" and then doing absolutely nothing afterwards. Though one thing I've seen very common with Arya antis is the idea that she'll effectually never reunite with any of her family members or identify as Arya going forward, either staying in the shadows or dying nameless or faceless without anyone recognizing her. That's a bit that worries me somewhat with her returning to the Riverlands first thing. Most Arya fans do expect her to be crowned by Lady Stoneheart and lead the BWB and Nymeria's pack up north but a lot of speculation from non-Arya fans ends up similar to Arya's reunion with Sansa and Bran in season 7; out of the loop, out of place, her journey treated as boring compared to the others, underwhelming reunions, conveniently out of the picture long enough so she can't ruin relationships that otherwise wouldn't happen with her present, secondary to Sansa.

One thing I think gets overlooked is how close Braavos is to Westeros. I've seen a lot of people act like Sansa in the Vale is a hop, skip, and a jump away from the Wall while treating Braavos like it's as far away as Meereen but they're actually about the same distance away. Braavos does appear to be perfectly placed if his original intent was for Arya to end up somewhere in the North, whether at the Wall, White Harbor, or even Hardhome.

But mostly I reject the idea that Arya will end up secondary to her brothers if she goes North. I have faith in GRRM loving Arya too much to ever treat her the way the show did in seasons 7 and 8. I think she has a role to play in the North considering how much of the Northern plots in ADWD are tied together with the "Arya"-Ramsay marriage and Jeyne. Stansas ASOIAF fans really believe that Jeyne will have absolutely no intersection with the person she's impersonating despite GRRM spelling it out that she's almost guaranteed to sail to Braavos for safety. It makes absolutely no sense to believe Jeyne would go to Braavos and never even encounter Arya. We also know GRRM intended for the Stark direwolves to go against Ramsay's hounds at some point in the future of which there's about nine named ones so far. Sounds like Ramsay will find out what wolves to do dogs ;) That may be enough to overwhelm Ghost or Shaggydog even if together but even a fraction of Nymeria's pack going north with her could handle them. I also refuse to believe Lady Stoneheart will die again before encountering a resurrected Jon. There's been rumors she and her men have been seen disappearing into the Neck which did lead to in book speculation the BWB has some contact with the Crannogmen. Arya can also be a bridge between Bran and Jon if GRRM keeps the estrangement between them.

And I really want Roose to find out he was in fact careless with a prize of great worth by not realizing he had the real Arya Stark under his nose in Harrenhal as his cupbearer lol. It'd be a shame if he died before finding out. But I do agree that she could go to either location and GRRM could make it work. I seem to remember jokes about GRRM being stuck because there are too many locations he wants her to be in lol.

I didn't think you were implying that, I just wanted to clarify that there were valid reasons for her heading to the riverlands and that I agree that some people only theorize that because they view the North as the most important location so they ignore her connections to it. I agree with a lot of your points and it's very frustrating that Arya's arc gets reduced so much because people refuse to see her as an important character. A majority of the theories surrounding her are the barest bones and people only expect her to leave the faceless men, kill [x] character, and then fuck off in a boat while her siblings (i.e. Sansa) carry the bulk of the Northern plot. The reality is that Arya's arc is difficult to predict because she has so many plot setups. There is an entire arc in Braavos waiting to play out, she has connections to the Northern plot, and she has plenty to do in the Riverlands. Arya is one of George's favorite characters and he's spent a lot of time developing her for a reason, so safe to say that whatever route he ends up taking it's going to be well-written and respectful to her character.

#ask #anon #arya stark #asoiaf #now me personally I do think there's a decent chance she goes North especially if she ends up meeting Jeyne in Braavos #she's going to be discovering that her identity was used to hold the North and of Jon's death which will most likely be her main motivation #for leaving Braavos which logically means she'll be trying to make it back North to Winterfell/the Wall #she could get knocked off course and that could lead her to go to the Riverlands that way #but either way she has plot connections to the North of her own and she would've have to take a backseat to her brothers #especially considering they're both currently dealing with their own arcs (well....Bran is anyways lol) #Rickon isn't a POV character so while I do think he's going to be important I don't see him as an obstacle to Arya being there #the beauty of George's writing is that characters aren't pushed to the side to make plots work the story plays out as it's intended to #so if George intends Arya to go North it's because there's room for her and she has her own role to play there #As always I think it's more likely she goes to the riverlands assuming we only have 2 books left because I believe the Long Night will #filter from the North to the South and the bulk of the battle is going to talk place there #and we don't really have time for Arya to got North -> South -> North but I'm always going to highlight her connections to the Northern plo

[3rr0rc0d3]

He's my valentine~ // Best Friend!John "Soap" Mctavish x Mafia!Male!Reader

You and Johnny have been friends for a damn long time, what happens when you slowly realize you have feelings for the man? Does he love you back? Surely he does right? Surely. But how can he love a man like you? Someone that does the things you do.

[Prologue][Chap 1]

Here you stood, Johnny calling you in the middle of work, staring a debtor in the eyes as you ever so casually as if you arent in control whether this man gets to live to see his family ever again. You were a higher up in a mafia, no narcos, you think at least, just organized crime. Your close friends at the very top of the pyramid and you just below the main man. Your gang was… Notorious, but the police never really did anything about it, your friends had friends in high places that they could use to pull strings from. Now, Johnny was talking about whatever random shit happened in the barracks that day, something about someone running around in a sleeping bag and him joining in then getting reprimanded for whatever they did, which you enjoyed listening to him, but you had to then tell him you had to go, that youll talk to him later, that you have to get back to work since you paused mid job. He understood thankfully albeit with a few whines here and there from him. Which left you thinking.

You and Johnny had been friends for a long time. How long had it really been? You were both in your first year of Middle school, you were both nine and as for how you met… Johnny had walked up to you, looking all messy like he had just roughhoused and played in the dirt, he had this… mohawk he was super proud of. Johnny harped on about random things, don't mind if you didnt talk back but just kept… talking. It was nice company compared to your other friends, Older kids, maybe two years your senior, delinquents. Johnny was also, apparently, your new next door neighbor. Had just moved in from scotland… It was fun, your delinquent friends would tease you about him, how you're never the one to let people just be so… loud around you. 

Johnny was different, he always was wasn't he? You always blankly told him off if he ever got hurt, told him he was dumb for not seeing the pole. And to pay attention while walking. You liked his smile, it was comforting. You and Johnny had been friends since… well… that day that he came up to you and just started yapping. 

Highschool came, and the two of you were even closer, best friends instead of just friends, you'd both be glued to each other at the hip through thick and thin. While you messed around with a boy or girl, you'd notice Johnny never really went for anyone. Of course you'd get your fair share of breakups, here and there. You broke rules, you did things that eventually got you arrested at one point or two. Johnny, no matter what was there for you. 

Johnny soon went into the military while you went on to continue your… gang stuff. He doesnt know what youre doing and frankly it's one of the things you didn’t ever wanna have to explain to Johnny. Every so often you and Johnny called, You wondered why he hadnt called his family to talk about al this but to be fair you never think theyd appreciate their son yapping on about whatever popped up in his mind that very second, You were used to it, Youd only ever met his family a few times during holidays, or during hangouts at his house. In any case, he didnt talk to you too much about work either, just that he felt right at home with them. You missed seeing his face in person al lthe time, sure but this just means you can keep things away from him easier, no? For sure he was a constant in your life, someone you knew you could hear from anytime.

PHEW- thats done hehe food for yall uh- heres my masterlist

#john soap mactavish #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny mctavish x you #johnny mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #141 #mw2 #cod #mw3 #call of duty mw3 #cod mw3 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #x male reader #x male y/n #hes my valentine