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#i hope you have the bestest day. you are one of the most nicest + genuine people i know

myelocin · 4 years

Text

Cradle | Sakusa Kiyoomi, Iwaizumi Hajime

Synopsis: First is love; in the forms over the years you come to know. Then second is grief and loss; and how the struggle that comes with it defines and reshapes you. And finally third is acceptance, where you realize that the awakening to love and life’s questions have always just been in the palm of your hand.

This story is for those who shielded themselves from love before it could even hit them.

Characters/Pairings: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader x Iwaizumi Hajime | Seijoh 3rd years (friendship)

Genre/Tags/Warnings: Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, Seijoh4!Friendship, Cellist!Sakusa, Musician!Reader, Hajime lmao, Mutual Pining, Love Triangle, Happy Ending!!, Character death, mentions of spiraling

WC: 17.5k

a/n: a month long wip! this one is all for you, mom. i broke my heart writing down these memories, but i hope you read this on the other side. + big thank you to @introvertedfangirlpower for the cello facts! really helped me :)

playlist: Message to Myself - Roo Panes

ko-fi | commissions

For you, love began in the unknown.

You say unknown because you don’t remember much of your childhood other than the flashes of residual warmth that came with the memory of your mother. For as long as you can remember, she always felt like that: warm and familiar—like home.

Her presence like the warmth that stays on your coffee mug long after you’ve consumed your drink. Warmth like sitting in front of a fireplace as you watch the last bits of firewood extinguish in the flames.

And your fondest memory perhaps—warm like the hands that cup your face and kiss your forehead every morning before you left for school.

The early years in your life meant days spent in planted gardens outside of a kitchen window where the pink and yellow flowers bloom in the spring, and jumping in the fallen leaves raked in a pile centered in the backyard in the late autumn.

Then in the winters, when it became too cold to lay in blankets in the backyard stargazing for constellations—you’d spend the Christmas nights listening to bedtime stories about her time traveling the world you have yet to explore. “You’ll fall in love with seeing what’s out there,” you recall her saying as she tucks you in bed with the green blanket she knitted for you when you were a baby.

Though you suppose even if you loved the winter months with her the best—you could never go wrong with sipping the iced tea she’d leave for you on the porch in the afternoons you spent outside in the summers. The iced tea she made was always the best: never too sweet, and never too bland either.

And for the most part of your childhood, your father was absent. You didn’t really care; his absent never lingered. So even when the bratty kid from the classroom next to yours would brag about the brand new jacket her papa bought her from a trip overseas—you didn’t care. The jacket you wore was still the same one from last year, and the scarf wrapped around you was the one she knitted two winters ago, but the way she wrapped you up and kissed your nose made the taunting escape your mind.

Your mother would tell you stories about the times when you were a baby and of how she’d tuck you in nice and snug in your blanket whenever she felt the room was too cold and then fan you out when the temperature rose. Apparently, when you were a baby you never cried too much so she was left to guess whether you felt comfortable enough with the room’s temperature or not. She always finished the story by saying you smiled at her either way so she supposes she guessed right every time.

You don’t question it because she guesses right every time.

During father daughter dances that were annually held in your school, your mother always made sure to take the day off of work early so the two of you would have dinner some place nice instead. Her jokes were better than the ones your dad halfheartedly chucked your way when he did come to visit anyway, so you didn’t mind.

Your father ringing you up three hours before the dance with the last minute classic excuse of “sudden meeting today, I’m sorry.” didn’t bother you as much as you think it should have when your mom was right next to you ready to tell you another story from her younger days.

Her “younger days” as she liked to call it was always a favorite topic of hers that she always returned to from time to time. At eight years old, it felt like there was so much of the world still to explore and despite her telling you to live your childhood to the fullest, you didn’t ask what it meant and requested to hear an encore of the story she just finished telling.

She’d smile and you’d hear her tell you that no, and that you should have listened, but you know during the “father daughter” dinners shared between the two of you, she was extra soft and that it would take nothing more than pleading eyes and one more “please” before she’d relent and tell the story again.

She was always enough; every second with her felt just right—and if there’s something you never regret during your childhood, it’s those times where you’d ignore the teasing of having “no dad to dance with” from your childhood bullies because you were more than content with the superwoman who raised you anyway.

If there was someone in your childhood other than your mom who never hesitated to hold your hands—it was the boy who lived right down the street: Iwaizumi Hajime.

“He looks a little scruffy,” your mom used to tell you and you’d shrug at her words because to ten year old you, she did have a point. Boys were icky.

His family didn’t move in your street until you turned ten years old, but according to the Oikawa family who lived next door—the Iwaizumi family had already been one of their long term friends. Tooru, the pretty boy who was your next door neighbor and often brought you the Christmas cookies you’ve come to love every December didn’t hesitate to knock on your door and ask your mom for permission to bring you out and play.

Tooru was okay, you thought; he had nice hair and a pretty smile even though he wore alien t-shirts every chance he could get. But, he was always kind enough to remember that you preferred almonds in your cookies instead of the cashews the recipe called for. So when your mother looked at you for your answer, you nodded shyly before running to your room to grab the jacket and scarf she reminded you to wear. The chill from autumn’s air has been settling in the region lately, so you let her wrap the scarf around you tightly before you left.

She did the same for both Tooru and his mystery friend, and you could only nod proudly when Tooru introduced his friend to your mother with, “This is (l/n)-san, she’s the nicest auntie here!”

You don’t notice the boy who walks quietly beside Tooru until the three of you reach the park. When you do finally notice him, you subconsciously find yourself moving a little closer to Tooru, your puffy cheeks hidden in the layers your scarf buried you in.

“Oh!” Tooru suddenly exclaims like he just had an epiphany.

“(Y/n),” he says as he turns to you and grabs the sleeve of your jacket, “—this is Iwa-chan. My bestest friend!”

Iwa-chan, the boy introduced to you peeks at you from Tooru’s left side and puffs his cheeks, “My name is Iwaizumi Hajime, nice to meet you.”

“Hello, I’m (y/n),” you reply and tentatively hold your hand out as an offer for him to shake, “nice to meet you Iwaizumi-san.”

His cheeks turn red at your words and you fight the urge to laugh at how silly it looks with his pout when he says, “You can call me Hajime. Nice to meet you too.”

Beside you, Tooru must have thought that his friend was taking too long to respond because he sighs loudly and grabs Hajime’s hand and clasps it on yours. “Iwa-chan, you’re supposed to shake her hand! Not stare.”

The red tinting his cheeks turn into a couple shades darker as he shakes your hand and turns his head to the side after muttering something along the lines of, “Baka-kawa.”

You smile at him when he faces you, and then smile even wider when the blush on his cheeks turn even redder. Maybe it’s just the cold air, you think, but none the less it suited him.

His hair was a little scruffy and he liked to wear Godzilla t-shirts under his jackets, but his cheeks blushed a pretty shade of red when you smiled at him so when your mom asks how your day with Tooru and the new neighbor went, you smile at her and say, “Mama I made a new friend!”

Hajime seemed nice, you suppose.

And you’re right because Hajime was always kind; he smiled in a way that had you smiling along with him in mere seconds. Though he was a little rougher with Tooru, Hajime always made it his mission to make sure he held your hand—if you needed it—when you needed to jump down a big step; the ever present blush on his cheeks when you’d beam at him stayed regardless of whatever season so you suppose you can’t blame it on the cold air anymore.

During your summer breaks, the three of you would spend the afternoons in your mother’s backyard sipping iced tea and catching cicadas. Tooru, along with you, would whine about how gross bugs were but you’d sooner relent than him when a pout began to form on Hajime’s face.

“You don’t have to,” Hajime says and takes a seat next to you on the swing next to the rosebushes. Tooru, from a far would yell triumphantly before tossing the volleyball he’d brought with him from home again. You, on the other hand could never have it in you to see Hajime upset so you’d pick up one of the three nets he’d brought with him and nod towards the garden.

“It’s okay!” you say and offer him a sweet smile when he’d look up, “as long as you keep the worms away from me then it’s okay!”

“I’ll keep them away,” he replies suddenly looking excited. Hajime jumps from the swings to grab another net and tugs at your hand to run towards the garden; he chooses to ignore the look on Tooru’s face when the latter shoots him a knowing smirk.

Bugs were never your thing and there was also never a day where you thought you’d be out in the garden running hand in hand with a boy trying to catch cicadas on a summer afternoon—when you’d much prefer to be sitting in a picnic blanket with the family dog who always nudged your hand for belly rubs. But then again, when you see Hajime, the kind boy with the infectious smile who always held your hand when you crossed the street or jumped from big steps, beam at you with his laughs ringing in the air—you conclude that it can’t be so bad after all.

When the sun would set and the three of you would let go of all the cicadas you caught, your mom would sit the three of you down for dinner and talk about your days.

“Ah, youth,” your mother would comment and you’d nod along, smiling because if this is what she meant by the beauty of youth—then you don’t ever want to let this go. If youth meant summer afternoons spent catching cicadas, festivals in the autumn, hot cocoas in winter, and picnics in the spring with Hajime and Tooru then you decided you really don’t want to let it go.

You think that especially when you look at the table across you as you smile at Tooru shoveling his dinner down and smiling at your mom because she was the bestest cook ever and laugh when Hajime’s always the one offering to pass the salt or the dish your mother asked for.

“Haji is really smart, mama,” you say looking up at the woman seated next to you and Tooru would whole heartedly agree then mutter something about “Iwa-chan” being really good at arm wrestling. Hajime would flush with the familiar shade of red you’ve grown accustomed to at Tooru’s comment but tell your mother a polite thank you when she’d clap her hands together and agree with Tooru’s compliment.

That night when your mother tucked you in for the night and moved to turn off the lights in the bedroom, she tells you that Hajime and Tooru are nice boys and that she’s glad you befriended the both of them.

You tell her goodnight and smile into your covers, feeling warm at the thought of your mother’s words, Tooru’s laughter, and Hajime’s kind smile.

High school was a strange time for the three of you.

Strange, in the sense that even though the three of you maintained the closeness of the friendship you’ve shared since childhood—certain things factored in the evident shift in some relationships.

Tooru was one example.

You would give up an arm for him in a heartbeat if it meant it would save his life, but at the same time, there are some moments where you wouldn’t hesitate to rip off his arm just to get him to shut up.

He’s always been perceptive, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he came to your house one day, plopped himself on the beanbag he claimed to be “his spot” at the corner of your desk, look you dead in the eye, and declare, “You have the hots for Iwa-chan don’t you?”

Internally, you wince at the statement but outwardly maintain the air of nonchalance you’ve mastered over the years. Tapping your pen on Tooru’s forehead, you click your tongue, “If you don’t finish your essay by today, I’m not gonna edit it for you.”

“You’re changing the topic, (y/n),” Tooru quips and if the conversation was about something different, you’d smile at the sing-song tone he was using.

“Changing what?” You ask.

“(Y/n),” Tooru replies, dragging out the last syllable of your name, “—you’re so obvious, even Makki and Mattsun could tell.”

“Could tell what?” comes Hajime’s voice from the doorway.

You let out a sigh because in a way you’re thankful for Hajime’s impeccable timing in entering your room. You turn your head and glance at him from your desk, offering him a lazy wave as a greeting.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru exclaims and scrambles on the beanbag to sit up properly. “How much have you heard?”

“Were you talking about something important?” Hajime asks with a flat tone as he sits on your bed and pulls out his laptop.

“Your mom asked me and Oikawa to stay for dinner tonight, by the way. That cool with you?” he asks.

You look at him, the expression on your face quizzical, “Haji, you guys always stay for dinner. Mama and I love having you two around.”

From your peripheral vision, you could see Tooru look between you and Hajime back and forth and for once you’re glad he chose to stay silent.

But then when a familiar tinge of red falls on Hajime’s cheeks and you smile fondly at him, Tooru suddenly hollers, “(Y/n), that’s what I mean. You totally have the hots for Iwa-chan!”

Hajime’s eyes widen as you slap a hand over your face.

Today was one of the days where you decide you want to rip Tooru’s arm off.

Dinner later that night was, to put it bluntly, awkward.

You figured your mom must have already read the atmosphere by now but as of the moment all you could really do was shoot glares towards Tooru from across the table. Usually, the seating arrangement would be like this: you sat next to your mom, Tooru right across you, and Hajime diagonal from you.

Tonight, Tooru decided that it was time to “switch things up” and traded seats with Hajime.

“Ahh, this feels nice,” he says as he sits in the chair inches away from the chair where he sat for years.

“Boys,” your mother begins, “I heard you both got into the volleyball team.”

Tooru beams at her through a mouthful of pasta. “Yeth!” he chimes and Hajime elbows him on the side reminding him to eat properly before responding. You, along with your mother give a soft laugh at their interaction.

“How are you three liking high school so far? I expect the two of you to get rid of any boys who have bad intentions towards (y/n),” your mother says as she sips on her wine. Internally, you groan, because this was a conversation you would much prefer to not have. Especially in front of Tooru, you decide when he grins with an undertone of something you could only guess was anything but good. You shoot him a warning look; Tooru decides it’s a good day to ignore you.

Over the years, you made your appreciation known towards Hajime’s amazing timing. It was like he had a sixth sense when it came to either you, Tooru, or the both of you simultaneously. He had always managed to round the corner right as the passing university boys would spot you alone by the convenience store, catch Tooru before he did anything too drastic whenever he blamed himself a little too harshly for a loss from a particularly bad game, or like earlier that night—walk into a room interrupting a conversation you would rather avoid altogether.

This current situation was not one of those times.

Hajime took a bite. Your eyes were still locked on Tooru who did everything but look in your direction.

“I don’t think that’s a problem, (L/n)-san,” he said and leaned forward. Your mother next to you raised an eyebrow in question and muttered an, “oh?”

Hajime took another bite, still oblivious to the current conversation. You still looked at Tooru who smiled at you in a way that had you gripping the fork in your hand a little tighter.

“No scary boys around (y/n), at all! Isn’t that right, Iwa-chan?” Tooru exclaims and looks at his best friend next to him who was still engrossed in his plate of food. You hold your breath looking at Hajime as you wait for his response.

“Huh? Yeah. Anyway, this new recipe is really good (l/n)-san,” he finally says and nods towards your mother. Tooru clasps his hands together, smiling.

“Personally,” Tooru begins, “I think Iwa-chan and (y/n) would be the most perfect couple!”

You run your hands over your face, already feeling the heat crawling up your neck. Feeling your mother’s stare you let out a sigh and face her. “Mom-“

“Hajime! That’s great! I was wondering when the two of you would get together, it’s literally been years.”

You stare at her. Hajime stares at her; pasta sauce is smeared on the corner of his lips.

“I know, imagine being the third wheel this whole time!” Tooru comments.

“Hajime’s a nice boy,” your mother tells you as you join her in the living room after Tooru and Hajime returned home.

“We’re not, a thing, mom,” you say despite her laughing at your tone.

“I didn’t say you two were a thing.”

You open your mouth, but eventually close it when you come short of a response. She had a point.

“Mom,” you groan, “Haji is nice. Tooru is nice. Both of them are nice.”

“I know that, (y/n), you’re just being defensive now,” she laughs and you can’t find a retort so you huff in response.

When the room is dips into silence, you grab the familiar green blanket folded on the corner of the couch and take a seat next to her. She looks at you when you lean against her shoulder and drape the blanket over the two of you.

“(Y/n),” your mother says softly.

“Yeah?” you respond, looking up to catch her gaze—the kind where it’s steady and soft.

“Never lose yourself if you decide to give your heart to someone. I raised you well enough and no boy should ever make you feel like you’re taking two steps back,” you know she doesn’t say it to spite Hajime, but the message and advice in her words reach you anyway.

“Never in a million years.”

You know your mother means well because everything she’s done so far was because it was for your sake. Her credit of being a good mom was well deserved: a full time nurse and a full time mother wasn’t an easy feat but she did it—and not a day goes by where you felt like you had to fight for her time.

And because of that, you knew in your heart that Hajime knew the both of you enough to understand the dynamic you had with her; for that, you were always thankful.

True to Tooru’s words, it only took the both of you six more months of back and forth bickering in your room before you eventually built up enough courage to stand in front of Hajime with your confession written neatly in jet black ink on paper tucked inside the pink envelope Tooru had demanded you to use.

He was quiet, and staring at you long enough for your cheeks to turn as pink as the envelope you were holding that it had you beginning to wrack your brain for excuses to turn and walk in the opposite direction. Only, when you looked up, cheeks flushed and the “Sorry I think I have to be home early to put my fish to sleep,” at the tip of your tongue—you stop because Hajime’s looking at anywhere but you and because his entire face is red.

You still have the envelope awkwardly stretched out towards him so when you move in attempt to retract it, his hands are suddenly clasped over your wrists and he’s looking at you, red face and all, saying, “W-wait—“

The both of you must have been quite the spectacle for the way you’re staring at each other, red faced, and waiting for the other to begin speaking because you could definitely make out Takahiro and Issei’s snorting from some feet away.

“—shit,” Hajime continues and the way he’s still staying silent and going back to avoiding your gaze has you tugging your wrists out of his hold and sheepishly telling him, “Sorry, this is a little awkward isn’t it?”

You’re standing in front of Hajime with your hands holding the letter behind your back and an awkward smile on your face.

“(Y/n), this is really weird—“ he begins and you’re shaking your head automatically at his attempt to soften the blow by waving your arms—and the letter—in front of him saying, “Haji! No! It’s okay you don’t have to say anything, this was a really bad idea—“

“No, I mean—“ he cuts you off then pauses as he’s sifting through the contents of his bag and pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope, the color a disturbingly identical to your own.

You look at Hajime. Hajime looks at you, at his envelope, then towards yours that paused with your hand midair. Issei and Takahiro’s laughter can be heard even louder from the background when Hajime runs his hands over his face and exclaims,

“Oikawa you son of a bitch.”

Two years and some months ago, Oikawa Tooru—the self-proclaimed “love guru” between you and Hajime had declared to have pulled off his “greatest plan.”

Apparently, the original plan called for only you to confess to Hajime via the classic love letter—but Issei and Takahiro had thought that the shits and giggles were worth to have both of you confess to each other at the same time instead.

Tooru always retells the story in the fashion where he leaves out Issei and Hiro’s names out of the credits. On the contrary, you and Hajime don’t have in in you to react much.

In the beginning, Hajime the friend held your hand through many of your highs and lows.

From age ten, he’d always make sure to hold your hand when you’re jumping from steps a little too far for your liking. At twelve, he’s holding your hand as he leads you away from the worms that found its way near the picnic blanket. At fifteen, when the two of you accidentally confessed to each other thanks to your friends’ schemes, he held your hand as he pulled you in the direction opposite of Tooru yelling, “Iwa-chan, don’t forget I’m the best wingman!”

Hajime, the boyfriend, had continued to hold your hand as well as share a multitude of your first throughout the years.

Your first date where he’d always let you walk on the correct side of the sidewalk, and make sure to squeeze your hand whenever the two of you would pass by a group of boys who let their stare linger. Your first kiss—a quick peck after a game where he’d rushed to you, lifting you up and planting a kiss on your lips before either of you could even process what was happening.

A reassuring hand on your back in the train ride during rush hour, kisses on your knuckles when he thought no one was around in quiet libraries, and your favorite: the feel of his thumbs tracing idle circles on the back of your hand when you’re watching him review the game you recorded earlier.

You were each other’s first “I love you,” when you’re seventeen, which was said in the hours between the day and night on your walk home down a quiet street you’ve skipped, ran, and biked across countless of times. You heard it break the silence before you said it with your own lips, because the way Hajime said it was like he was just talking about the weather that day.

When the two of you stop in front of your house and Hajime’s facing you, he’s smiling in the way that has you blushing instead of him this time and he’s looping your scarf even snugger around your neck after muttering some comment about how cold it was that day.

“Haji, did you just tell me you love me?” you ask him when he’s zipped up your jacket and you’re peeking at him under the various layers of the scarf he secured around you.

“Yeah, of course, I love you.”

“This is the first time you’re telling me that,” you say with an almost bashful expression and your eyes are cast down so you don’t end up seeing Hajime’s eyes widen at the realization dawning on him.

“(Y/n), shit—“

“I love you too, Haji,” you cut him off and even if the expression in his face is still a little apologetic at the lack of climax of your first exchange of I love yous, he’s holding your hands and pulling you flush against him in an embrace, his proclamation of more “I love yous” fluttering against your ear in warm breaths.

You think about it sometime later when you’re clearing up the plates on the table from dinner and you ask your mom, “how do you know when it’s right to tell someone I love you?” and she looks at you with an expression that says she knows exactly what you’re talking about but humors your attempt at nonchalance as she replies with, “It just slips out as if you’re talking about the weather.”

And the way she says it has the second thoughts just automatically leaving your head. You tell her “I love you,” in the mornings before she leaves for work and you don’t really think about it—not because it’s a passing comment, but because you just simply love her.

The feeling’s there because what you feel in the moment is as genuine as it can get, so when you think about Hajime from seven years ago who blushed red when you shook his hand and the Hajime seven hours ago who told you he loved you like he was talking about the weather—everything dawns on you in the way that feels right. No second thoughts, deep analysis, or euphoric moment.

>> to hajibug:

>> 23:50: i love you

In college you decided to pursue music as a career choice. Music was one of the many things you and your mother had bonded over but watching you play in first chair always gave you the best view of her beaming from the audience.

Whenever somebody asked you why you decided to pursue a career in the field as vague and competitive as music—for a long time you fumbled with your words as you struggled to piece together a coherent enough sentence that would make it seem like you were chasing something for a “deeper” reason. Though, the truth is—you just happen to enjoy it.

The way the shoulder rest snapped perfectly in place with the violin, the weight of the bow in your hand, the smell of rosin during practice, the tuning before the concert started before hearing the eventual mess mold together into one harmony—you loved every second of it.

On the final concert of your first year in college, a week before Hajime’s move to California you stood in the orchestra room reading a text from your mother saying that she couldn’t make it this time because of a doctor’s appointment running later than usual.

You still sat in the first chair of the first violins section and even though you would have loved nothing more than to see her smile at you from the crowd—it was in the coda of the final song where your eye finally catches Hajime watching you from her seat. When the violins put their instruments down in the measures of rests, you glance over to look at Hajime while your toe continued to tap the counts remaining until you’d play again.

You bite back a smile because he looked a little uncomfortable from the high collar of the suit he put on. Tooru’s probably the mastermind, your thoughts chime in as you smile and tuck the violin back in between your chin and shoulder, your rosin covered bow hovering over the E string.

And when the final count of the rests came and went, you could only smile as you see Hajime physically hold his breath as the violins amplified the crescendo of the climax.

It was later that night when you finally made it home that you realize that perhaps your favorite part of the song was when you felt the emphasis of the dynamics in the pieces you played.

The moment of absolute silence as the conductor draws everyone’s attention to the tip of the baton.

“(Y/n),” your mother starts and your eyes lock on the slight tremble in her hands.

The seemingly collective sharp breath everyone takes when the tip of the baton begins to signal the final counts until the start. Your fingers pressed on the first note as your bow hovers over the string.

“What’s wrong?” you ask but you let your fingers only ghost on her hands when she holds her silence, refusing to meet your eyes.

Sometimes it begins with a quiet note—and you smile at those because it sounds like a whisper despite it ringing in the auditorium.

“I’m sick,” she says and what she says doesn’t register in your head.

Other times, the first note comes in forte and leaves everyone in a resonating silence while the following notes interlace and begin to tell the story.

“I have cancer, (y/n),” she tells you again, louder this time and her sobs echo so loud in the silence of the house that it suddenly makes you want to throw your hands over your ears.

The conductor is waving the baton; you’re closing your eyes as you mold yourself with the music and focus on nothing but your fingers flying across the fingerboard and making sure the timing of your bow matches the tap of the rhythm set.

“Mom, you’ll be fine right?” comes your assurance in question and she’s not answering because she’s crying harder.

First position to third, then fourth, then something else you don’t quite remember as the pressure from your bow presses harder and harder on the strings to climb with the crescendo the orchestra is rising to.

She looks at you, glassy eyes and trembling lips, then holds your face in between warm hands as she presses her forehead against yours.

Then as the baton drops and the crescendo overflows—the air around the room instantly changes. The shoulders relax and the movement of the bow shift from staccato to legato as the music continues to flow.

“I’m scared to leave you alone,” she finally admits and you finally break down and cry with her because you realize you have no one but each other.

You cry because she’s crying at the thought of leaving you alone when she never cried at all the times your father chose another family over her.

And as the music decrescendos into the whispers of pianissimo, you close your eyes as the gentle sway eventually lulls to a stop.

It’s half past ten and you’re still in your formal wear, but your mom’s fast asleep on the couch. The air from the AC brings you to a light shiver so you shuffle closer and pull the blankets tighter around her frame.

The last note drops and resonates in an almost infinite echo. Your eyes snap back open you feel yourself exhale.

For a moment the auditorium is in silence.

You sit on the floor next to her and listen to the sounds of steady breathing. You could pretend it was just another movie night where she fell asleep on the couch, but the telltale tracks of tears are on her cheeks and you hear her sniffling from time to time so you sigh instead.

Then, the audience erupts in an applause.

In your room, you put your palm over your mouth and begin to cry again.

“I love you so much,” is what Hajime said two years down the road when he decided to move to California to finish his studies.

First, he’d made a stop at your home and sat with your mother over breakfast as she wished him well on his new adventure. By the time he was at the door, it was the first time you saw Hajime cry for and with her when she wraps him in a scarf she knitted just for him. You watch softly, as he wraps her in a hug and parts with a promise to always take care of you despite the distance and wishes for her healing.

You’re standing at the border of the gate only Hajime can cross where he’s wrapped you in a hug with his chin resting on your head.

“I love you so much,” he says and you nod your head against his chest. He’s saying it as naturally as he always has and your reply is as immediate and natural when you say, “I love you too, Haji. So much.”

“(Y/n),” he starts when he pulls away from you and looks you in the eye; he’s suddenly serious and you’re afraid.

“If you ever feel like you don’t want to keep doing this, then we can take a break.”

Your brows pinch together as you reply, “Why would I want to break up with you?”

“I’m not saying we will, I just don’t want you to shoulder too much because I know how much you’re hurting right now,” Hajime explains, and his eyes are as genuine as the tone of his voice.

“Haji—“

“I believe in you, though, just—“ he pauses and his eyes soften before he continues, “take things one day at a time and remember that I’m here loving you every day, okay?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he finishes and you only nod at his words because the fact that you’re going to miss him really begins to hit you. Hajime’s looking at you in the tender way where you know he knows you’re about to cry because he pulls you in another embrace before kissing the top of your head as he murmurs his parting I love you in the quiet tone only you can hear.

When Hajime crosses the gate and turns the corner, you can’t help but bite your lip to keep from crying. Only a couple more years. You could take it.

It’s in the next eight months where you realize that while Iwaizumi Hajime shared your first love—he was also your first heartbreak.

They always said that long distance was difficult and the fact that you and Hajime were even trying was commendable enough. But that was the problem—commendable sounded like you were in the relationship for the sake of a prize. Like you were suffering through the now for a prize. Like the good part was only a one-time thing reserved at the end.

It felt wrong, and looking back at it now—perhaps that’s where the downfall began.

As time passed, your mom’s illness worsened. Cancer was ugly and it let itself be known in as many ways as it could. Time and time again, you’d watch her hair fall in strands, then clumps, until she eventually decided to shave it off for good. She smiled at you and you don’t hear her tell you, “It’s okay,” over the buzz of the razor. You don’t think you have the heart to listen to the quiver of her voice that you know is present with her words, so you suppose the loud buzz worked out in the end.

What broke your heart the most was seeing her excitement when her hair grew back after a pause in her treatment—only for her to sit down and tell you that she’s “okay” when you’re shaving off sections of her hair again.

You didn’t let her see you cry because you wanted to be as strong as she was in this; because you knew the both of you broke down within enclosed walls away from each other. Though every time you were face to face—the front was always back up. And the front was flawless; like the edges of a chipped sword finally smoothened back into a blade. But at the same time, flawed; because like the sword—the sharpness always kills.

It was unconventional, but it worked. The momentary sigh of relief was still moments of relief at the end of the day.

Hajime, on the other hand thought differently though. The second you’d answer his call request on particularly off days, he’d tell you to cry. And you would; fat drops of tears rolling down almost as soon as he finished his sentence.

Then only a year of loving each other through a computer screen passed before you realized he became your pillar at the same time you began hardening.

“Never lose yourself in the pursuit of someone or something,” are the words from your mother you consciously make an effort to tell yourself everyday even as you sit in with your phone in hand waiting for the call Hajime promised you early this morning.

And you’re well aware you’ve developed an unhealthy habit as you’re lying in bed, fighting sleep with the time on the clock nearing 4am still waiting for Hajime’s call. It wasn’t the first time he missed a promised phone call—and you weren’t mad because you understand that he has as much of a schedule as you do and that time difference was a wedge the two of you needed to work with.

But still, you think, then sigh when you put your arm over your eyes as the clock clicks to 04:07AM beside you, this fucking sucks.

You know Hajime will text you an apology when it’s seven am for you and late at night for him, but you put your phone’s ringer on silent to convince yourself that you’re fine and you’re not dependent on his presence at all. That you’re handling yourself just fine and that the anxiety you have every time your mother comes back home from a checkup is something you can deal with by yourself.

You shut your eyes when the dull ache in your chest begins to grow sharper as your thoughts shift from school, to your mom’s illness, to Hajime, and to the fact that you want to cry at the heaviness of everything.

And the frustration is eating you alive because you hate feeling this helpless. Not when your mother taught you nothing but how to be strong your whole life. Not when all you should know is how to stand on your own two feet despite whatever the situation life throws at you.

So when the morning comes and you wake up to a plethora of Hajime’s missed calls and frantic texts asking if you’re okay—you text him an assurance that you’re fine and that he shouldn’t worry about it.

You face the day with everything you feel pushed to the back of your mind. You face the mirror and tell yourself that you’re fine.

Hanamaki’s a good friend, and a lot smarter than you give him credit for.

It didn’t fly past him when you left for phone on silent or chose to spend your break with him or Mattsun when you usually would utilize that time for Hajime. But at the same time, he noticed you spacing out in conversations a little more than usual, reject any plans they invited you in, and his least favorite—see you break down in the practice room when you thought no one was around.

Neither he nor Issei chose to tell Hajime or you about it; he could never understand what you were going through—but he understood that the way someone heals differs from person to person.

It took about a few more months of Hajime’s schedule piling up and your silent breakdowns for the both of you to finally snap and confront one another.

It started with Hajime telling you a round of an apology, “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll call you on time—I just,”

“—shit everything’s just crazy. I’m sorry, babe.”

Then you nod and absent mindedly twirl one strand of your hand as you force his apology in one ear and out the other. You were fine. You’re handling things well. You didn’t need Hajime as a support system, so you reply, “It’s fine. I got this.”

And you like to think it was going well, but he asks, “How’s your mom doing?” and your hands are suddenly gripping the edge of the table (where you know he can’t see) tight. You didn’t tell him that she cried from the results when she came home earlier and waved you off when you stood up to help her balance herself. That thirty minutes ago you could hear her yell at your father over the phone about something she didn’t tell you about and that at the moment, you’re thankful for the way your fingers were digging into your skin because it’s helping you re shift your focus into anything but what was going on.

Hajime’s not looking at you because he’s looking at the report he was typing on his laptop instead. So first, you hype yourself up by thinking about how you don’t need anyone to push you through things and that how you’re handling yourself and the situation was more than fine, then, you answer,

“She’s okay, too.”

You try to ignore how gritty it sounded; Hajime doesn’t seem to notice either.

You’re quiet after that and Hajime must have thought it was odd because he pauses his work to look at you and ask, “Are you okay?”

And he says it with such a gentle tone that you suddenly want to crumble and tell him about the heaviness that hasn’t left you since the day your mom began slipping. But a knock from Hajime’s door and a distant call of his name snaps you out of those thoughts. Hajime, on the other hand, ignores them and asks you the question again, which you wave off this time with a quick, “It’s okay you can call me when you’re done.”

He’s hesitant when he leaves and he shoots you a text seconds after his face leaves the screen but you don’t reply; you spend the rest of the night with your face pressed against the pillow while you will yourself to believe that you, alone, have everything under control.

And, really, you should have left it to end like that.

But you don’t; because when morning comes and you wake up feeling heavy, you’re left in a haze where everything feels muddled. And the feeling of screaming hits you so fast and so hard that the dam just breaks.

It’s seven am and you’re crying for reasons you can’t find a starting point to. The kind of cry where every heave hurts and makes you ball your fists because of an unsourced anger. It’s disorienting and frustrating because you’re not mad at specifically anything—but at the same time, everything feels like its swallowing you whole again. You wish you could blank out like the time she told you she was sick—even if it meant moving through your day hyper aware of your movements. But you can’t, because it’s one of those days where the heaviness just sits on your chest and forces you to face the fact that it hurts.

And you always say “it” because you don’t know where to begin. Because you never began; never sat down and looked at your reflection in the eye and asked yourself, “what was wrong?”

Because you’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

It’s still fine because when your phone is ringing, you answer with a fresh face and a smooth, hello.

Hajime greets you like usual, but then settles into a background that isn’t.

You don’t really care.

He asks you how you’ve slept, and you nod once as a reply. He’s chuckling and says something about you looking cute cuddled up in bed, still half asleep so you nod again to go along with his story. Underneath the sheets, you’re fisting the blankets as you count each breath you’ve inhaled and exhaled as Hajime begins to talk about his day.

Then someone, who you can’t recall you know, sits next to him with an arm casually draped over his shoulder and pushes her face near his as she waves a hello. Usually, you’re not much of the jealous type so something like that shouldn’t even be a red flag for you. Hajime was a friendly person all around, and time and time again he’s explained how different the American culture was from home.

Given that fact, on a normal situation it would have been fine. Understandable, even.

But before you could even begin smooth your thoughts back to rationality, you explode. Hajime’s facing away from you in a conversation where he can’t see, so you suppose that could have been a good thing.

Then, your anger comes out.

First, it trickles; you stay silent and opt to stare at him, seething when he finally begins a conversation. Hajime’s eyebrows shoot up just like that and he bids his friend a quick goodbye before rushing into an empty room.

Second, it pools. You tell him a series of things you don’t even think makes sense, but from the way his face morphs into a grimace—it wouldn’t take much to conclude that what you said was something ugly.

Third, you’re wading in waist deep. You’re sitting up and pointing at him, bringing up a photo you saw of him with his arms hung over someone’s shoulder. A classmate, you concluded last week; a lover, you accuse him of having in the moment.

Fourth, Hajime rushes to keep you from going in further. He doesn’t feed into your anger and instead tells you to take a deep breath before talking to him. And for a second, you relent and listen. He explains that she’s a classmate from his biology class and that you’re just overreacting over something that shouldn’t even be an issue.

Fifth, comes the struggle. Your anger flares at his words and everything you’ve felt and pushed underwater suddenly bobs to the surface. Hajime wasn’t at fault, and you know that, but he’s huffing in a way that tells you he’s inches past exhausted and it does nothing to quell your outburst.

“Maybe what you should do is listen to yourself and calm the fuck down,” is what he tells you as you flinch at his tone.

“Well, I’m sorry, for just wanting to talk to you Hajime,” is what you say as retaliation. Hajime’s hand that instantly flies up to soothe his temple doesn’t fly past you.

“We are talking, (y/n). Why are you trying to make me apologize for something I didn’t even do?”

“Why can’t you understand my point? This is exhausting, Hajime.”

“I told you from the beginning. If you didn’t want to keep doing this then we stop,” he retorts, anger steadily rising.

“You’re making it sound like you’re the one wanting to stop this,” you bite back.

“I don’t. But it’s like every time we talk nowadays it’s like you’re being too much, this doesn’t seem like you anymore,” Hajime finishes.

And as the silence settles, everything clicks. You’ve been too dependent, and he feels the same way. He’s right, this isn’t you at all. You shouldn’t need to cling to him to for crumbs of healing; because you’re more than fine.

Have been more than fine, really; so you blank and reply, “You’re right, sorry about that.”

He looks at you, confused, before the silence envelops the two of you again. You allow it to stay this time.

“Maybe we should take a break, (y/n). Just some time to cool off; I feel like we’re just too overloaded right now.”

“We should,” you reply, expression unfazed as you cut the call.

The sixth, is where you allow the anger to stay instead of recede. Your mother asks you how you’re feeling and you’re quick to answer that you’re okay.

Hajime doesn’t text you until an hour later, wanting to talk. You set your phone to silent.

“What made you decide to not get back together with dad?” you ask her when she’s quiet in front of you. Your mother looks at you for a while before she pieces the red eyes and silent phone together, then tells you, “I loved myself more.”

You nod, conflicted. Her eyes were as red as yours and you heard her weeping his name just the night before and she knows you’re aware. Your phone vibrates on the table again and you miss the way her eyes flicker to the device momentarily before focusing them back at you.

Both of you know, but neither of you ask.

“Never lose yourself, right?” you say quietly and she gives you a solid nod as she pours you a cup of coffee.

You never really liked coffee; then again, you never really liked the reality either.

But you take the mug and gulp in the bitterness anyway.

Then finally, the seventh is where you succumb under its waves. Hajime calls you later that night and you answer, expression honed into an almost natural state of indifference. He looks a little worse than you, but you ignore that.

“Is this it?” he asks and you nod curtly once, your fingernails already digging into your palms under the table.

“Are we going to hate each other?” Hajime asks you again and you sigh.

“I don’t have it in me to ever hate you, Haji,” you answer, truthfully and he gives you a halfhearted smile.

“I love you,” he says like he’s just talking about the weather, and stays on the line for a few seconds more before he eventually takes your silence as a response.

“I love you, too,” is what almost comes out of your mouth like second nature, but you bite your tongue anyway.

He can’t hurt you first this way.

Sakusa Kiyoomi didn’t really root himself in your life until nine months after your break up with Hajime. Graduation came and went like the unfurling of a leaf, and before you knew it, you’re suddenly in the real world.

Before that, you only knew him as the first chair cellist who you always accidentally locked eyes with in every concert you managed to snag the first chair spot in the first violin’s section.

Bumping into him during morning practice first led to string quartets, then duets during concerts, shared practice rooms—until eventually, he asked you out on a date.

He inserted the question in the conversation so naturally, too. After putting away the music stands, then shoving (in contrast to him neatly arranging) the sheet music into your folder—you were halfway done with loosening your bow when he asked, “Do you wanna get dinner later?” out of the blue.

To others who may have listened in to the conversation, it sounded like a natural invitation between friends, and Kiyoomi must have realized that because he was quick to face you after zipping up the case of his cello, and add, “—I meant dinner with me.”

You were still holding your bow and staring at him stare at you, so he filled the silence with, “Like a date. I’m asking you out on a date, (y/n).”

The two of you never really initiated anything outside the relationship between music partners, and the occasional friendly outing—but it had always been with others. Looking at him, you admit Sakusa Kiyoomi was a man who mastered hygiene. Which was always a bonus in your book. But you think back to Hajime for a second, then click your tongue quietly because you realize you shouldn’t be thinking about him when someone else was asking you out.

But you sigh and still offer him a smile when you reply, “Sorry I gotta watch my mom tonight. She’s not feeling well.”

Kiyoomi nods, and his eyebrows shoot up like he remembered something. “I heard your mom was sick? I’m sorry if I’m prying.”

You nod sharply once before internally groaning then thinking about how to steer the conversation away from the oncoming “I’m sorrys”, “It must be so tough,” or any sympathetic comments of the like.

But Kiyoomi only nods in understanding, briefly turning back to loop his arms through the case, then looking back at you again saying, “Ah. Understandable. My grandmother had cancer and my mom made her this soup that helped with the aching; I can give you the recipe for it.”

Your eyes shoot up at his response and the rehearsed response of, “I have no choice but to be tough for her. It’s okay, though,” dies in your mouth so you close it again and only nod a yes.

Kiyoomi turns to open the door once you had your own violin set inside and stands by the opening of the door to let you out first. You smile; he was mostly reserved, but still a gentleman.

“(Y/n),” he begins when the two of you walk side by side in the quiet morning hallway. “I know you don’t want to hear the pity comments, but I just wanna put it out there that you’re doing well.”

Your steps halt with his when you reach the end of the hallway where the flooring splits into two different directions but you face him, the thrumming of your heart feeling making you a little more choked up than you expected and tell him an honest thank you.

He lifts his right hand as a goodbye while he shoves the other in his pocket after he settles his mask in place, then turns to walk on the opposite direction.

“Sakusa-san!” you call out and he stops a few meters in front of you to turn back in your direction again.

“Dinner!” you call out again, “this weekend!”

You know your cheeks are a little more red than you would have liked and you’re more than aware of how white your knuckles must be from grasping the straps of your case, but you ignore that and add anyway, “As a date.”

The mask covering the lower half of his face obscures the expression he has but you notice the miniscule crinkle on the corner of his eyes when he laughs and replies, “Can you say that a little louder? I can’t hear.”

You huff and action to turn around because the heat on your face was getting a little too uncomfortable, but you hear him say, “It’s a date!” so you nod awkwardly in confirmation before turning your back and walking the opposite way.

You can imagine the look he has on his face and just how much amusement he’s gotten from the interaction but before you walk too far you hear, “Just call me Kiyoomi,” from him behind you.

You smile and feel as if you’re flipping into the first page of a new chapter.

In contrast to the push and pull energy you felt with Hajime, after almost being in a relationship with Kiyoomi for a year, things felt easy.

Communication between the two of you didn’t feel like unraveling codes; plus, being in the same department also meant your schedules mostly linked up. Though, personally, your favorite part was that he was never too pushy with the things you wanted to deal with alone.

He knew not to pry when you walked in the practice hall with bags under your eyes holding a cup of coffee you swore to heaven and back you detested drinking; you always saw a parcel of your comfort snack with a note laid beside your violin case in the locker room, though.

And when he ate dinner at your house, he also kept his comments to himself and never let his eyes wander to the amount of pills you had to help your mother count out when the little alarm in your phone rang. Then again, you never needed to question his intentions when he showed up the next day with a thermos filled with the soup your mom said she enjoyed once as a passing comment.

He’s always been one to remember the smaller details.

Along with preferring to stay in his personal space, Kiyoomi wasn’t one to smile too bashfully, but you can’t help but notice that when she laid her hands on his as a thank you and asked him to take care of you—the smile that graced his face looked warm.

She said that Kiyoomi seemed like a nice boy, and you agreed instantly—because he is.

He never pushed past the boundary you kept around yourself despite entering into a new relationship. There was a mutual air of respect—and neither of you expressed the desire to breech it.

Being with Kiyoomi felt as natural and in order to the flow as it does when your hands move to automatically loosen your bow when it came to packing up, or beginning with the A string when the conductor motioned for you to begin tuning.

You liked to think you fit quite well together. Like the duet that an audience listens to and clap at as if they were the whole orchestra. Like the blend of the high and low notes written on a score that collides in perfect harmony.

And it feels like it too.

Every time you’re seated across each other on the stage and you’re staring straight at one another to climb with the crescendo then descend into silence—you know that your heart, along with his, are beating in the same rhythm, with the same frequency. You’ve always found that break from the real world when you picked up an instrument and you’re glad that Kiyoomi’s the one you’re entering into that dimension with.

The ten minutes on stage feels timeless. The rush from the music still resonates in an infinite echo—your fingers twitching, craving, to fly across the notes in an encore. You’re smiling because when you stare at him—he’s smiling too. Unabashed and sparkling where you have no doubt in your mind that even without the stage lights he’d gleam the same.

And even as the crowd’s still cheering as you stand hand in hand and bow next to each other, you don’t hear anything. When reality begins to trickle into your senses and the rush of intoxication wears off, you let your smile mellow into a soft curve. You face the front row and look at the seat that’s a little towards the left and try not to notice your mother’s absence. You know she was admitted to the hospital three weeks ago and she hasn’t been doing too well. Kiyoomi squeezes your hand and whispers a, “you did well,” which you nod at.

He’s still smiling even as you exit the stage and pack up your instruments so you decide not to tell him that the boy sitting in that specific seat reminded you of Hajime.

Hajime, on the other hand became the contact on your inbox that got pushed down further and further when the holidays passed. You meant it when you said that you could never hate him—because you know you never really could.

He still showed up on your Instagram feed posting photos about his weekend road trips to Malibu or the spontaneous trips to Vegas his new friends looped him into—and you were happy to see him glowing. More times than not, your finger would hover over the like or send button to the comment you always end up deleting and you know it shouldn’t be that way. But reality reminds you that it is.

Your reality reminds you that Iwaizumi Hajime is someone who was witness to your growth and decline and that he was someone you chose to leave in the past.

But at the same time, his passing hellos were never left unheard. Kiyoomi knew, and like always, respected that. You would think this is the part where he should be reacting a little more aggressively, but you knew him to be above petty actions. He was secure, and he let that security be known in the grip of his hand that remained steady against yours when either Hanamaki’s or Issei’s eyes would stare a bit too long. They too, let their hesitations be known when you first introduced Kiyoomi to the both of them.

Issei opened his mouth with what looked to be the beginnings of a retaliation, but Hanamaki cut him off swiftly with a resounding, “We’re happy for you,” that promptly ended the conversation at that.

Then again, it didn’t change the fact that it was after that night where Hajime’s texts to you eventually dwindled to the seasonal greetings.

You tell yourself you don’t mind.

Because you don’t.

Because you’re fine.

Your mother isn’t fine.

Even though she’s been hospitalized for the past four weeks now, the past week has been specifically the most difficult. In and out of consciousness where different tubes were stuck and different needles prodded at her skin every day. It killed you because the second you heard her cry from when she thought you were still asleep rang in your ears over and over again throughout the day that resulted in you missing rehearsals for that entire week.

Kiyoomi drops by after school along with Hanamaki and Issei to check up on the both of you, but eventually leave when visiting hours end.

Kiyoomi usually stays a while longer, though; sitting outside the hospital parking lot and talking over a cup of coffee became a temporary permanent for the both of you during those weeks.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, then scoots closer to you on the bench when you exhale a sigh and lean forward. When your elbows settle into a rest on your thighs, you turn to him, offering a smile. It looked more like a sad quirk of the lip but Kiyoomi must have appreciated it more than he let on because his posture relaxes with you as he exhales.

“It’s weird, Omi,” you begin. “I mean she’s been at the hospital for treatments and checkups before but this is weird.”

Beside you, he stays quiet, and despite the distant noise of traffic in the background your voice sounds a little more amplified than you would have liked. None the less, you continued, “I’ve always known she hasn’t been fine but the past week just happened so fast.”

Puffing out another breath, you watch as it leaves you in a cloud before bringing the rim of the coffee cup to your lips. You don’t take a sip. Coffee was never your favorite anyway.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks you and turns his body completely to face you.

You think about it, then sigh. You don’t; at least, not yet.

“It’s okay, she’s strong,” you tell him and raise your cup as you shoot him another smile.

“So are you,” he offers as a reply, then knocks his cup against yours softly, chuckling when your face grimaces at the taste.

“Why do you always order coffee when you hate it?” he asks as he watches you take another sip.

You laugh, then scoot closer to lean your head on his shoulder. “It’s just practical,” you answer. “It helps me stay up so even if I’d rather get the peach tea, I know that one will knock me out within an hour from all the sugar.”

Kiyoomi laughs at your reply before looping his arm through yours and threading your fingers together.

“You can loosen up time to time, you know,” he tells you and you smile a smile that strains both the muscles on your face and feeling in your chest.

“I wish I could,” you answer.

“Are you happy?” your mother asks you later that night.

The question catches you off guard and you take a seat on her bed next to her. You don’t look at each other and instead look at the wall that’s in front of you, so, tentatively, you reply, “Of course I am.”

And she’s quiet after that so you return her silence and continue to sit next to her.

The clock hanging above the door of her hospital room ticks slowly and for a while you’re comfortable. At this point you aren’t sure whether you wanted time to move faster or slower—because you knew the moments you spend with her are granted through borrowed time.

Time that’s borrowed from the prayers you kneel and voice out every night, the needles and tubes that poke and prod at her skin every day, and from the pills you help count out every time your alarm rings.

She began slipping the minute she told you she was sick—and along the years you knew she let herself slide along the current more carelessly every time she told you she was tired.

You’re looking at her when she touches your hand and you try not to flinch at how cold her skin’s gotten. She’s smiling when you face her and it makes you inhale in a way that hurts because the look on her face practically just tells you she’s tired.

But like the two of you had always done: you stay silent and mirror your smiles instead.

“I’m proud of you,” she says and your heart breaks as you will yourself to not cry. It occurs to you that she isn’t crying when she says it because her voice is resolute as it is soft. You want to ask her why she’s proud of you but you don’t because you realize when this becomes a memory you just want to leave it at that.

You want to leave it as a moment where a mother is telling a child that she’s proud of her.

So instead, you ask her, “Are you coming to see the concert with me and Kiyoomi in a few weeks?” just to make sure. That she’s still there; that she will still be there.

Her silence is your answer before she’s reaching out between the two of you and squeezing your hands instead.

On a Tuesday morning the next week she passes away at 3:08 PM with her eyes closed and face serene. The nurses tell you she opened her eyes to look at the world once more before she closed them and exhaled her last breath.

She was probably looking for you, they mean to say, but you bow your head in thanks when the medical staff offer their heartfelt condolence. You aren’t sure if you wanted to see her close her eyes for her last breath, but at the same time—you wonder if that thought was too selfish on your part.

When you’re in the car in the parking lot of the hospital grounds, you smell her perfume—lilac, so you close your eyes and tell her soul rest easy and I love you.

You text Kiyoomi to meet you in the practice room to go over the score once more after you gave yourself a few more moments to pull yourself together.

He texts you back with an, “are you sure?” so you sigh because he must have already realized what happened. Your fingers hover over the keypad of your phone as you think of an excuse to cancel plans last minute but Kiyoomi’s contact photo on your phone interrupts your thoughts in a call.

Despite your hesitation, your finger press the green to answer the call almost immediately.

“(Y/n?)”

“Hey,” you respond.

“Want me to come get you?” Kiyoomi asks and you notice how much softer his tone is.

“I can still drive, it’s okay—“

“—Are you okay?” he cuts you off and you nod your head frantically. It felt too automatic, and that thought didn’t fly by you, so you sigh.

Kiyoomi notices your silence over the line but he stays and for that you’re grateful. He isn’t really pushing you and you feel a sense of gratitude again because you don’t exactly know what to say either.

Before you could reassure him that you’re in a sense, “okay,” his voice breaks the silence over the line again.

“No one else is here, so I’ll wait for you if you’re coming.”

The smile that breaks on your face is one of relief, or at least you think it is, because your eyes are stinging and you hear yourself sniffle when you tell him a quiet okay, and thank you.

“I love you,” is what you think you hear Kiyoomi say as you cut the call and put the car in reverse.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi present here?” you call out with a slight chuckle as you push open the door and peek in the room.

His head snaps towards you immediately so you offer him a sheepish smile at best when you finally arrive in front of him. Kiyoomi’s eyes are softening in the way that has your heart constricting automatically so you cast your gaze down and immediately fidget with the zipper on your violin case. The steps he takes are heavy and audible in the wooden flooring so your heart hammers even more when you hear him cross the distance between the two of you.

“(Y/n),” he starts and you look up when his hands are on your shoulder. They feel warm, you think, much like the look you see in his eyes when he steadies his gaze towards you.

Kiyoomi joins you in your silence when you choose to remain in it and respond to him by only stitching on another smile. The palm of his hand is still warm on your shoulder but you try to focus on anything but the waves of his sympathy and presence because you know the second you step back in reality, you’ll break—again.

So when his hand squeezes your shoulder and he parts his lips to say the condolence you don’t know when you’re ever going to be ready for, you cut him off.

“Please don’t,” you tell him, and it’s said with a tone that’s clipped tight and with lips pulled into a straight smile—the kind where you can already feel the edges crack with every second that passes.

Kiyoomi sighs and stares at you, but backs down when he feels your body tense.

“I’m right here,” he reassures, as you cast your gaze to the side when you feel the sting in your eyes threaten to overpower you.

“I know,” you reply and with that he turns and takes his seat again.

The two of you are facing each other when you have your fingers on your respective positions and bow hovered over the string. The metronome in the background ticks and you close your eyes desperate to slip out and slip in to focus. The disconnection almost happens automatically because as soon as you hear yourself verbally count to start, your hand with the bow twitches and—

“(Y/n),” Kiyoomi cuts off and your movements automatically halt. The tone of his voice is solid and just like that you feel yourself begin to crumble; still, you try to harden, anyway.

“What’s up?” you say and open your eyes to look at him. The cello you thought was resting between his legs is set down next to his chair and his bow is on the music stand; he looks at you—intention transparent at this point.

“I love you,” he says. “Please talk to me—“he pleads, but you cut him off.

“Omi,” you begin. “I know what you want to tell me and I know you mean well, because you always do. But please—“you pause and look at him with as much intensity as you could muster before continuing, “—let me pretend like today is just a day where we’re practicing for the concert she could have finally gone to.”

Across you, his body leans forward before eventually halting at the sight of you tightening your grip on your bow.

“Just let me pretend this is a normal practice and I’ll be home later with someone still waiting inside the house,” you continue, volume rising but resolve shaking.

“Please,” you finish before tucking the violin back between your chin and shoulder and raising your bow to signal the start. Kiyoomi relents with a sigh and picks up his cello and bow before looking at you.

“Ready?” he asks when his bow is positioned above the string.

“Always am,” you reply and close your eyes as you slip back in focus and feel the bow glide into the first note.

The first note is an A, so you place your fourth finger on the D string and slip into your empty realm with a vibrato.

A memory flashes; you’re in the sixth grade again. It’s September, and you finally make it home with your new violin case in hand. Your mom comes home from work and smiles at you as you point at the strings and name them in the order your orchestra teacher had you memorize earlier.

“This one’s the A string,” you say and you see her smile like she’s proud of you.

The next note makes you climb to the third position, and you could recall that the dynamic changes around this measure, so along with Kiyoomi you’re pressing a little harder.

“We learned the third position today!” you hear your own voice say. It’s your second year playing and you’ve made it to the honors orchestra. Your mom sits in the living room, watching you with a twinkle in her eye that tells you she’s more than proud as you show her the arpeggio practice you learned earlier that day.

The next few notes fly across the fingerboard as the familiar crescendo builds. The depth of Kiyoomi’s strings blends with the octave you’re playing at as you feel yourself being swallowed and wading in your thoughts deeper and deeper until—

You stop.

Because with your eyes still closed, you suddenly see her from the night before. Your mother with the glimmering eyes and fragile hands, wearing the red beanie she said was her favorite ever since her hair fell out. And your eyes are still closed when you hear her tell you that she’s proud of you, her voice bringing you back to that night where you wanted to do nothing more but let your defenses down.

So involuntarily you do; your eyes are still closed when you begin to weep, but you can hear movement from the background before you eventually hear Kiyoomi call, “(Y/n),”

“I’m sorry,” you say and frantically wipe away at the tears and cough out the cries threatening to overflow and spill.

“(Y/n),” Kiyoomi says again and you look up.

His chair is turned so that he sits facing away from you. Your forehead scrunches with the peculiarity.

“Kiyo-“

“Just let it out,” he says then picks up his cello and continues playing from the measure you stopped at.

Then you do.

Like a thread snapping, a cry rips its way out of your throat as you finally, finally allow yourself to feel the heaviness that’s long settled in your chest. Your violin along with your bow set on the floor as you crouch down and press the heels of your palms against your eyes.

It hurts, you realize, when every time you close your eyes you still see her. You still hear her tell you her goodnight stories, affirmations, and reassurances.

It hurts, because you’re tired. Tired of living in the world trying to be the adult you know you aren’t just yet. You’re tired of going home and smiling with her when you could tell the reason why she has tear tracks on her cheeks was because of the call with your father you overheard from the night before.

Because you’re angry, you think. You’re angry at her illness. At your father for leaving and giving the weight of being a parent and provider at the same time. At the fact that neither of you were ever vulnerable enough to even cry in front of each other, and angry at yourself for never having the courage to tell her that it’s okay.

Because all this time you’re been struggling. Struggling to try to always be an adult when you never closed the chapter of your childhood. That you’ve always struggled to push past every affirmation that you’re okay and every single one of those moments were just bouts of false confidence. And it’s exhausting to put up a front to your own reflection.

Even when nothing has really been okay. You’re hurting even more when you realize that so you clutch your chest and cry harder.

This must be the consequence of pride, is the thought that comes to your head. You could build the strongest walls and wrap yourself in the most intricate barriers just to act tough but in time, you will break.

Like now; you’re sobbing into your palms for the years’ worth of pain you let pride push away while Kiyoomi is climbing even higher than the strongest dynamic you know the piece calls for.

You know he wants to let you know that it’s okay, and that you’re safe. His message resonates in pure clarity as he pushes on the strings harder and harder to swallow the sounds of your cries.

His back remains turned as you look at him, still crying, while your thanks bubbles out as incoherent as your cries.

It hurts, because you the only person you’ve cradled in your hands to heavens far higher than the ones you’ve known is gone.

You’re still crying and the pain in your chest is still stinging much like the pain from a reopened wound does, but you let him come to you as he lets you come to him in an embrace.

“Let it out,” he murmurs in your hair as you wrap your hands around his middle and cry into the fabric of his shirt. He’s probably a little uncomfortable at you sniffling right into his shirt, but the way his hands are rubbing circles on your back reassures you otherwise.

“You’re okay,” Kiyoomi says again and you cry harder because you want to believe him.

Five missed calls and seven texts messages all coming from Hajime lays unopened on your phone at 6:17PM.

“She asked me if I was happy,” is what you tell Kiyoomi as the two of you stand side by side peering over her casket some days later.

“Are you?” he asks and you smile at him in a way that tells him that at the moment you’re not.

“Will you be happy?” comes the question after that and you shrug.

The lines on her face are like always, and the mole between her brows look the same. Your mother lays still in the casket, cheeks pink from the blush they put on her and lips red. You think your mother’s friends told the funeral workers to paint them her usual color, so you’re thankful for that. She looks like she’s just asleep—and you don’t know how to feel.

You want to reach out and hold her hand but you know the skin will be stiff and cold; you don’t want to remember her touch like that.

To you, she’s still alive.

She always will be alive.

Kiyoomi’s hand grasps yours in a way that’s as gentle as his presence has always been. When you look up then right to meet his eyes: looking like warmth despite the depth that it has words rolling out of your lips before you could comprehend the situation.

“I will be.”

Kiyoomi smiles and you look back down without bothering to further explain your answer.

You know he always believes you. The sentiment is one you appreciate, but at the same time, you’re not sure if you even believe yourself at the moment. You have to be strong, you think.

And just like that your defenses climb back up.

Takahiro along with Issei make it to the funeral along with Tooru and Hajime skyping in from overseas. It wasn’t as awkward like you expected it to be, and you’re glad.

Tooru’s crying along with Hajime and the rest of you as you watch her return to the opened earth.

You’ve dried your tears by the time you face Tooru and Hajime on the laptop screen, the grief on their faces similar to the one on yours.

“(Y/n),” Hajime starts, and you nod, waiting for him to continue. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” you respond, gaze focused to the left side of the screen—Tooru’s side.

Even though all you could see was Tooru’s expression on the screen tearing up with yours, you ignore the telltale scrunch of Hajime’s forehead where you know confirms his disbelief over your words.

“I’m coming home next week. Got a job offer there,” Hajime’s voice cuts again and before you could respond Tooru’s voice thrums over the speaker as you feel Kiyoomi’s hand settle on your shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks you when you look up at him. Nodding your head, you shoot him a smile before turning back to the screen, one hand resting on top of Kiyoomi’s.

“This is Kiyoomi,” you introduce and feel yourself unintentionally holding in a breath as you sit and watch for Hajime’s reaction. He’s quiet; eyes steeled over and form rigid. Probably just a trick of the camera, you tell yourself, so you open your mouth hoping to find an excuse and end the call early but Tooru’s voice overlaps yours for the second time that day.

“Ahh! The boyfriend?” He asks and you smile as you see him leaning closer to his laptop’s camera. You had to hand it to him; you know that look. Tooru was someone who could craft a mask and uphold it for as long as he needs and every time it was flawless.

Which was why when Kiyoomi bows his head in a greeting and greets, “It’s nice to meet you,” in the tone he used with your mother, you know he hadn’t caught on to the fact that he was facing a façade.

“Likewise,” Hajime’s voice cuts through and you try to not shiver at the intensity of it.

“Let’s catch up when I get home?” he says again; this time, softer and you nod before you could think of a response.

“Take care,” is the last thing you hear from him before the camera on his side of the screen blinks back to black and Tooru’s face magnified and centered.

“He’s finally coming home, (y/n)-chan,” Tooru smiles and at the sincerity of his voice you smile along with him.

“He finally is.”

Hajime had always been, and always will be your first love. You found yourself choked up the second you see him wave at you from the arrival’s gate and you swore in that moment hugging him felt like coming home.

Which was because of nostalgia, you told yourself. There had been so many firsts and memories shared with him that you know just because you moved forward with your life—that didn’t mean you’d buried what you had with him in the past.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi?” he asks when you’ve settled in the grass next to your mother’s tombstone with him across you.

“Yeah, he actually played for Itachiyama back in high school,” you say.

“Volleyball player turned classical musician?” he asks and you nod with a resonating yup, your hand trailing down to the grass to pick on the blades aimlessly.

“He made it to nationals too,” you comment.

“Are you trying to just rub it in?” he asks and tosses some ripped grass your way. You move to the side and stick your tongue out at him which he laughs at. Hajime’s laugh reminds you of the summer afternoons in your childhood home where you’d chase cicadas and write memories in polaroids and you’re suddenly feeling nostalgic.

“Nah,” you say and smile as you look up at him. He’s facing his right and letting his eyes glaze over the gold paint of your mother’s name on the cement.

“I miss her,” Hajime whispers and you nod, your heart squeezing.

“I do too,” you reply and when he looks at you and meets your eyes, you catch yourself smiling because he has tears threatening to spill over the waterline too. “Every day,” you continue.

“You’re making me cry,” Hajime huffs and leans back facing the front after he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Your fault for still being soft,” you laugh. Unlike you, he’s always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” Hajime begins after the moments of recollection passes. You look at him and smile, not really sure whether you even have the desire to push through with the conversation or not. “Why are you even sorry?” is what you want to ask him, but you hear yourself say, “it’s okay, Haji,” instead.

“We could have made it,” he says again, his voice cracking as he looks at you.

“Could have,” you repeat and offer him a halfhearted smile at best.

“Do you regret us?” Hajime asks and he seems hesitant with his answer; like he doesn’t want to know your answer. You shake your head no as soon as you meet his eyes and reach your hands out in the space between you.

“Never,” you say and squeeze his hands when he takes yours into his own.

“You’re going to make me cry, again. Shit,” he laughs and this time, you laugh along with him.

The afternoon, despite the September air feels warm. Almost like the summer afternoons back home. So when you close your eyes, you let your defenses down as you imagine sitting in the garden: the one with the yellow and pink flowers, shouting promises in the air with Hajime and Tooru as the three of you let the wonder of childhood guide your idea of reality.

You decide that for just a while longer, you’ll keep those same defenses down as you feel Hajime pull you to stand up with him and face the open field behind the cross of her name.

“Wanna see if we can find cicadas?” he grins and you laugh, replying, “What are we, twelve?” as you follow him and break out into a run anyway.

It was in that afternoon that you realize, Hajime’s always felt like home. His presence always meant that your thoughts jumped back to the days where you watched his hair spike and grow like flowers from a garden blooming and wilting. To the days where talks of the future were shared over a dinner rolls and laughter. To the days where telling someone “I love you,” felt as natural as if you were just talking about the weather.

Hajime reminded you of losing yourself in the kind of love that felt unabashed and boundless. Like running on fields where the sun remained in the golden hour indefinitely. He was the first love you’ve cradled with a heart that was still a stranger to the ways of the reality.

“Are you happy?” he asks you when the sun above breathes the beginnings of a goodbye. You recognize the question your mother asked you before she passed and in that moment you close your eyes and envision yourself in a different year.

“I am,” you whisper back earnestly and your heart flutters with every corner of the wall that crumbles down as you stare back at him.

He looks at you like he wants to ask a question but the thought of Kiyoomi flashes in your mind. Your eyes scan the flecks of emerald in Hajime’s as you close your eyes and feel yourself retreat along with the setting sun. The warmth in your chest remains as you think of Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi who told you to let it out and let it go. Kiyoomi with the midnight eyes who spoke of the answers to the questions you have yet to discover.

“I have to be happy,” is what you tell Hajime again and the smile he gives you is soft. Like he wants to dive down your thoughts more but instead chooses to remain anchored outside your walls.

But you still lean into his embrace as he pats your shoulder when you tell your mother goodbye.

She must be happy, you think to yourself. Because today was an afternoon spent in the sun like she was alive again.

A text from Kiyoomi to you and one from Issei to his brings you back to the present. You wave goodbye to the photograph of her on the tombstone while Hajime leaves a yellow flower he picked under the sun by her name.

He smiles and you hear him say he’ll walk you home.

Your heart thrums; it’s almost like he never left.

Hajime won’t leave.

Despite your intention for him to not show up to your house being extremely blunt in your text message, he shows up thirty minutes after Kiyoomi’s parked into your driveway.

“Hajime,” he grins, introducing himself with a hand stretched out in greeting as Kiyoomi looks at it in contemplation. You watch the two of them, three feet away and anxious at their first time face to face interaction.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” your boyfriend says and reaches out to shake his hand. You could practically feel yourself sigh in relief.

“Haji, you didn’t have to come,” you say and shoot him a tight lipped smile. “Omi and I can handle the boxes, plus there’s not much left to pack up anyway.”

“So,” Hajime begins, turning around and blatantly ignoring what you just said. “Makki says there’s some heavier stuff in the attic? I can help you with that.”

Kiyoomi looks at you as you eventually sigh and nod at him to follow Hajime up into the attic.

For the rest of the day it went on like that. At every hint you dropped in regards to the lack of necessity for Hajime’s presence—he’s suddenly tuning out and changing the topic. It was like he couldn’t hear. You huff when Kiyoomi shoots you a look that hints his amusement towards your predicament.

Hajime’s time in California surely must have rubbed off on him.

“You two shared a lot of memories,” Kiyoomi comments after he sees Hajime point at a trinket and recall a story.

“We grew up together,” you reply and Hajime nods along with you, smiling.

“I knew she was gonna be a real one when she didn’t chicken out from catching cicadas with me,” Hajime laughs across you.

“You used to catch cicadas?” Kiyoomi questions, eyebrow quirking up. You had to fight the urge to smile at the way his two moles scrunched together.

“Used to,” you answer and grip the photo album in your hand before placing it into the box. It was one of your favorites, you remember. You spent your summer nights pasting stickers and writing captions into the photos your mom took of you, Hajime, Tooru and your dog. There were probably a few in there that were with her, but you decide you can put off the nostalgic trip for later as you shut the book and tuck it into a corner of the box.

“Sakusa,” Hajime initiates when the three of you stand back up, stretching then facing each other: Kiyoomi to your left and Hajime across the two of you. “Take care of her will you?”

“I plan to,” Kiyoomi replies beside you and you reach to squeeze his hand as you watch him offer Hajime a sincere smile.

“Can you give us a moment?” you ask Kiyoomi and he’s quick to nod.

“Thanks,” you say and lean into his kiss on your forehead before watching him grab the remaining box and make his way out the door.

Hajime stands in front of you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s a good guy,” he tells you and you smile gently, head nodding in agreement to his words.

“One of the best,” you reply, smiling.

“You’re happy right?” Hajime says more than asks, but before you could answer, he speaks again.

��I’m here for you, always,” he confesses quietly and you swallow thickly because you could already decipher the meaning behind his words.

“Who’s going to pull your scarf to remind you that it’s cold?” Hajime declares softly and you knit your eyebrows together as you tell him that you can do it yourself.

“I know you can,” he laughs and walks closer to you as he tugs off his own scarf and wraps it around your neck.

“I just like doing it for you.”

“Earlier,” Kiyoomi begins after he’s settled in the couch of your new apartment’s living room. You turn to face him, attention in focus then wait for him to continue.

“When we were upstairs Iwaizumi-san asked where you were moving.”

“Oh yeah? I forgot I didn’t tell him my new address, thanks for remi—“

“He asked again if we were going to be moving in together and I didn’t answer,” he swiftly cuts you off. You stare back at him, confused, then nod your head urging him to continue.

“I didn’t answer him at first because I wanted to see how he’d react.”

“Omi—“

“(Y/n),” he sighs. You blink back, confused.

“He still loves you.”

Kiyoomi says this like he’s just talking about the weather and because of that you’re suddenly aware of fast the room dipped into the newfound silence. Your heart hammers in your chest while you feel your hands curl into a familiar fist; fingernails automatically moving to dig into the flesh of your palms.

“Of course he does, I do too—“you reason, but his expression shifting has you revising your choice of words.

“I will always love him, Omi. Haji was my friend before he became anyone else,” you explain, softly, and reach out to take his hand in yours. He smiles at you and you mirror it, appreciating the way he didn’t pull out of your touch.

“Is that it?” he asks before you look at him, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“What else is there?” you laugh and shift your focus to his hand on yours.

“Are you really happy?”

“With this?” he questions again and sits up, taking both of your hands in his. Kiyoomi stares with baited breath, so when the silence buzzes in your ear even louder, you nod.

“With us?” Kiyoomi whispers and the echo it delivers rings loud. You hear his question ricochet from the walls to your ears over and over again while you stare straight into the plethora of questions he chooses not to vocalize manifesting themselves in his eyes.

Then, almost slowly, you nod. Because you are happy, though more so thankful. But that’s still happiness, the voice in your head reasons, so you relent and cup his face.

“You’re my blessing, Kiyoomi,” is the truth that’s spoken from your lips as you watch something living unfold in his.

“I love you,” is what he says and you nod, speechless, as he presses his forehead against yours because you feel everything in his words.

“Are you happy?” he asks again when you part and you smile, remembering your mother and Hajime’s words. The sentiment in his question is one of honesty, that in that moment, it suddenly fills you with newfound warmth.

“She asked me the same thing,” you answer, vulnerable. Kiyoomi always had a way that made it okay to feel vulnerable.

“Because I think she knows your answer,” he tells you quietly and what he says makes you think of his words.

“I’ll get there,” is what you planned to answer but before you could get the words out you’re suddenly widening your eyes as you see Kiyoomi shift and bend down on one knee in front of you, a ring in his hand.

Three years later | Italics in flashback

For the first time in your life everything felt connected.

From the pin that held your veil together, to the yellow and pink roses that bloomed along an aisle of white.

Everything felt like it was finally in place as Tooru took one look at you from behind the doors and teared up.

“Please don’t make me cry,” you tell him and smile as you loop your arm through his.

“This is payback for making me cry when you asked if I could give you away,” he laughed before dabbing at the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you, Tooru,” you whisper as he gives you one final look. The browns of his eyes reminded you that you are loved.

“Your mom would be so happy now,” is his reply as the doors open.

She would be happy, you think as you take one, two, then four steps forward as you grip your bouquet tighter. The pendant with her photo is surrounded in gold plating, and you find yourself thinking that nothing suited her better than gold.

To and for you, she had always been golden.

You feel Tooru part with you midway as he lets you walk the final stretch alone. It was supposed to be the other way around, Issei commented before, but Takahiro was quick to side with you and say it was fitting. Even if Tooru stood in your parent’s place to symbolize giving you away, a parent’s job is really just to walk with you to the halfway mark in life and let you walk the rest of the way alone.

You find yourself smiling at the memory.

The engagement ring on your left finger catches the light from the photographer’s flash as the first notes of a cello play.

“I would ask you to marry me but I know you’re going to tell me no,” Kiyoomi tells you.

“I don’t know you, yet, (y/n). But I know you just enough to know there’s some things you are choosing to not let go of.”

You watch him stare at you, eyes soft and understanding you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to cry again.

From the aisle, your eyes catch Kiyoomi’s as he stares back at you, beautiful and iridescent in the light. He’s always looked the most beautiful when he felt connected with music, you think. Much like now, as he presses harder on the strings and close his eyes to slip into the element.

“It’s okay,” Kiyoomi soothes, and reaches forward to wipe the tear sliding down your cheek.

“I don’t think I got to know you, just yet. I only saw bits of who you were under that exterior and neither of us know if we could work as well then if we lay ourselves bare now,” he continues and you nod, understanding his point.

“I love how resilient you are, (y/n),” Kiyoomi whispers and you smile because his voice isn’t cracking. He’s okay with this, and somehow, that lifts the heaviness in your chest. “I love how you never break despite the situation, but I’ve only known that side of you so far.”

“You deserve someone who’s seen you from the start. I can stay and we can work this out, but I don’t know if I’ll love you then. Iwaizumi loved you then and now, and I think you still do too. I could never take you away from that.”

“I don’t want to ask you who you are yet,” he says and you nod telling him you’re still getting to know yourself too.

“She’ll be proud of you regardless,” Kiyoomi finishes and with that you sob.

Kiyoomi opens his eyes and looks at you with a smile while he continues to play. Thank you, you mouth telling him, and he smiles as he plays harder.

“For what it’s worth,” you begin. “I know,” Kiyoomi finishes and the smile on his face is as sincere as his words. “Our time will always be a part in history that will be ours.”

You inhale, smile, and then cup his face in your hands. “It will always be priceless,” you add.

This was a piece you recognized from years ago, you recall with a smile. If you had your violin with you, it wouldn’t take much for you to remember the score and slip into a duet with him. The dynamics, you recognized too—and the way Kiyoomi’s playing only tells you he’s playing even louder.

Three years ago he played the same piece you would have played for the concert your mom would have finally made it to. The same day she died you sat in a practice room with Kiyoomi, crying your heart out as the he plays the same melody you’re walking to now.

Let it out, is what he told you and you did just that.

Let it go, is what he also wants you to know and you did that too.

All your life you’ve thought of love and thought it was lost when you lost her. Kiyoomi, you realize, is the love you were just beginning to learn. The love you’ve parted with before you tangled yourself in too deep; and perhaps in another lifetime you could chase each other bare bones and all, but in this life you know Hajime is the love you thought you closed the door to despite leaving it ajar.

One last look at Kiyoomi lets you see that he closes his eyes as you turn away and face forward.

And when you do, you see colors.

Green from his eyes, like the leaves on your bouquet and the grass outside your childhood home. A yellow flower pinned on his breast pocket; the color from the petals of a flower your mother loved to grow the most. Pink; like the color his cheeks turned into when you first shook his hand.

Then when he smiles at you—you feel a sense of home. When you see him begin to cry, you feel a sense of love that washes over you like the soft waves of the shallow end.

Steady, constant, and safe.

Love, like the words your mother wrote to you in a letter you discovered in an old journal. Where she wrote that even if she never had your father to love, she found her love in you. To be cradled in you so that was enough for her.

That she knew she was strong, but even more so because her strength was drawn from being with you.

Love, like the words from a friend as you remember Kiyoomi’s reminder that it’s okay to take that hand that just wants to pull you out of the deep end.

Love, like the awakening from the depth and seeing that Hajime is the hand that’s been there all along and you have yet to take.

Love, you remember like your mother’s voice.

Love, like the one that has been with you since the beginning. Because you were loved from the very start.

And Hajime—whose name spoke of beginnings.

for my mother whose love cradled me from the beginning. may you rest where the flowers bloom the most beautiful. i love you.

1K notes · View notes

emsvegetables · 3 years

Text

16th: fake-dating with kuroo.

- in which he needs a date to his cousin’s wedding or his mom is going to try to marry him off to a random girl. and who’s there to save the day? you!

no. of words: 2.4k

hi. okay. i actually have no idea how much words this fic contains. and I APOLOGISE BUT I PROBABLY RAMBLED ON TOO MUCH BECAUSE I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH and this is actually kinda shitty and bumpy because i just wrote whatever came to my mind so i hope this isn’t too messy and I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS :”””””)

“just hire an escort.”

you raise an eyebrow when you hear the words drift into the kitchen from the living room, and you take five cans of sprite from the fridge and two packets of chips from the cupboard, and when you pad back into the living room, you meet kuroo’s frustrated face, akaashi’s amused one, tsukishima’s normal face, and bokuto’s excited one.

“what’s this i hear about hiring an escort?” you ask, and try to shift the packet of chips to your other hand so the cans won’t roll out of your hands, and you shoot a smile at kuroo when he pushes himself off the couch and heads towards you to help you take the cans out of your hands. it’s times like these where kuroo makes your heart skip a beat. he was always there to help you carry things if you needed someone to.

you pass the chips to bokuto and tsukishima, and settle into an empty spot in between akaashi and kuroo and reach for the television remote to browse through netflix. kuroo instantly stretches out a hand to rest on your shoulders. it’s something he always did, and it just showed how comfortable he was with you. but recently, it’s been causing your heart to flutter just a little bit.

“well?” you say, when the room still remains silent, save for the crinkling of the chips’ packet and the opening of the cans of sprite.

“didn’t kuroo tell you?” akaashi asks, and you tilt your head slightly to the side when he looks at you with a questioning gaze, and you turn to give kuroo a questioning gaze as well.

he’s avoiding your eyes, which means that he’s either embarrassed or frustrated, and you aren’t quite sure which one he is.

“my cousin’s getting married,” he finally says after a short pause, “the one you met during christmas dinner? do you remember her? the accountant?”

“oh!” you say, and nod fervently and smile when you remember how she looked like, “the christmas dinner two years ago? the one that has tortoise-shell glasses? the pretty one?”

kuroo nods, and he lifts up a hand to run through his messy hair, “yeah, well. she’s getting married this weekend.”

you almost tell him to give her your congratulations, but you frown, “and what’s that got to do with hiring an escort?”

a red flush overcomes kuroo’s cheeks, and you blink when you realise that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him so red.

“that’s n-not my idea,” he finally bites out, and he’s looking away from you, and you raise an eyebrow again because that didn’t answer your question, and you’re really confused.

then you hear tsukishima’s laugh.

“his mom told him that she’s going to introduce him to a girl at the wedding. apparently he’s at the age where he should be dating or he’ll be single forever. he’s trying to find a way to get out of this.”

you let out a snort when tsukishima finishes the sentence, and kuroo turns back to glare at you, his face still a little red.

“guess who that girl is,” kuroo grumbles, and you laugh, but stop short when kuroo doesn’t smile.

“who?”

“yura babbington.”

“wait, what?” bokuto cuts in, and laughs loudly, “you didn’t tell us it was yura babbington!”

yura babbington was your university’s resident entitled drama queen. she was rude to the waitresses in restaurants when she went out for lunch. she was an asshole to the cleaners in your university. yura once made everyone believe that a girl kissed her own cousin because the girl showed interest in yura’s ex boyfriend.

“this is going to be gold, kuroo,” tsukishima smirks, “you and yura babbington? amazing. the ultimate power couple.”

kuroo flips the middle finger at tsukishima, and burrows his head into your neck and groans sadly, “help me, (Y/N).”

you have to force yourself to not allow the flush to rise to your face.

“what can i even do?” you laugh, and pat his his head with your free hand, “i don’t think i can even do anything, mr babbington.”

akaashi snorts.

you laugh again when kuroo pulls away from you with the most scandalised look on his face, and you yelp when kuroo tucks his fingers into your sides and begins to tickle you.

“apologise!” he demands, and you laugh again as you squirm on the couch to try to escape his fingers digging into your side.

“no!”

“you can’t joke about me becoming mr babbington! i’m going to fucking hurl!”

you’re about to tease him again when bokuto cuts in, “i think hiring an escort is a good idea! he can have a date the entire time during the wedding and his mom won’t try to hook him up with yura because he’s with someone!”

you laugh again when kuroo flips the middle finger at bokuto, and slumps back into the couch with a frown on his face.

“i’m not going to hire an escort.”

“why not, it’s still better than being mr babbington, right?” you grin, and grimace when kuroo flicks your forehead.

“because.”

“because?” akaashi prods, and kuroo glares at him.

“because it’s weird, i don’t even know the escort,” kuroo says, and takes a swig from his can of sprite.

“i have an idea!” bokuto says excitedly as akaashi scrolls through the netflix catalogue

to finally settle on which movie to watch, “(Y/N), what if you become his date for the wedding?”

“what? are you serious?” you laugh, and when you meet kuroo’s eyes, there’s a flash of something in there but you’re not quite sure what it is because it’s gone when he blinks. you’re sure that the flush you were try to surpress has risen to your face this time.

“yeah? why not? kuroo’s super comfortable with you. you’re super comfortable with kuroo. just pretend it’s a usual outing? y’all always go on outings together anyway,” bokuto shrugs, and kuroo’s slowly sitting up a little straighter as bokuto continues to ramble on.

“(Y/N)...”

“kuroo...”

“please...”

“what do you want me to do? play your doting girlfriend?”

“...yes?”

you shake your head and turn away from kuroo to face the television.

“please? you’re my best friend. the sweetest person i know. the most nicest person i know. the bestest person i know. the prettiest—“

you scoff (because what the hell—how can he say such things to you so easily?), “you’re just a sweet talker.”

he grins at you, “is it working?”

“can’t you find someone else?”

“you’re the only girl i know.”

you roll your eyes, “that’s a lie. what about kaori? yukie? yumi? miyo?”

it’s kuroo’s turn to roll his eyes,” well, yeah. but you’re the only one which i would actually date.”

“you’re not helping your case,” you say sternly, and try to cover up the fact that your heart is now hammering against your chest.

“please?” kuroo says again, smiling at you, “c’mon, i’ll buy you those vanilla crepes that you like so much.”

you sigh.

kuroo blinks when he sees you head towards him and he has to slap himself mentally because holy shit, how can someone look this good? he’s been harbouring a major minor crush on you for a few years now, and every single day he looks at you, you always look prettier than you looked the day before.

you’re looking absolutely beautiful in that dress of yours, and your hair is pulled back into a pretty half-up hairdo, and you look so fucking good, and his mind just goes blank.

“hey, kuroo. what’s up with you?” you shoot him a smile and he just feels like his brain has short-circuited.

“you look really pretty,” he blurts out, and damn it, he didn’t mean to say it out loud, and thank you, he will be ascending to heaven right now.

you laugh, and he has never heard something so pleasing before, “you’re not too bad yourself. you clean up well, huh?”

he manages to get a hold of himself to realise what you just said, and he frowns comically, “what’s that supposed to mean, ma’am?”

you laugh, and dart out of the forehead flick he sends your way, “well—“

“tetsurou? darling?”

the both of you turn, and kuroo watches your smile widen as you recognise the person who just spoke.

“mrs kuroo!” you trill, and you spread open your arms to pull his mom into a hug, and kuroo has never been so jealous of his mom before.

“(Y/N)!” his mom gushes, wrapping her arms around you tightly, “it’s so nice to see you! it been three months since we last saw each other, and you’re still so pretty!”

you laugh, and beam brightly at his mom while she rambles on about what you missed out on on, and kuroo can’t help but think that you just fit in so well in his family.

“oh, so tetsurou brought you here?” his mom asks, and when you nod, she turns to give kuroo a look, “he didn’t mention that he was bringing anyone.”

“it’s not his fault, mrs kuroo! to be honest, it was my fault. we’ve been dating for a while now and i wanted to keep our relationship private, so i told him to not tell anybody,” you say, and kuroo almost laughs at how quickly and smoothly you came up with the lie. and now he can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to date you. he’s been thinking about it for a while now, but he doesn’t want to ruin the relationship between the both of you, so he’s been keeping things to himself.

“tetsurou! why didn’t you tell me earlier? now yura—“

“tetsurou?”

the both of you freeze when you hear the sickly-sweet honeyed voice, and kuroo stiffens when he catches sight of the figure sashaying towards the both of you.

“hi mrs kuroo! and hey, tetsurou! it’s so nice to finally be able to spend time with you! you’re always around that girl—“ yura falls silent when she makes eye contact with you, and smiles at you.

“(Y/N), is it? i believe we haven’t had the chance to interact. i’m yura marie babbington, but you can call me yura marie,” yura sticks out a hand for you to shake and smiles at you expectantly.

“it’s a pleasure, yura.”

“maybe you misheard me, i said you can call me yura marie.”

“yura is easier to pronounce,” you say cheerfully, and kuroo has to choke back a laugh.

you smile brightly as yura tries to mask her scowl with a smile as she turns to face kuroo’s mom.

“mrs kuroo, i hoped that i would be able to get to know tetsurou a little more..privately.” yura reaches forward to lace her fingers with kuroo’s, and kuroo instantly unlaces them and reaches for yours instead.

“yura, call me kuroo. tetsurou is only for people i’m close to,” kuroo says, and he smiles a little when he feels your hand squeezing his slightly.

“i assumed that i could call you tetsurou, because we’re going to be dating, no?” yura smiles at him, but her smile falters when she catches the sight of your linked arms.

“i’m sorry, i assumed that you should be holding hands with me instead of her,” yura says, and reaches forward to try to hold kuroo’s hands, but before kuroo can react, you’re pulling his hands back and smiling at yura.

“sorry, yura, but i’m afraid he’s taken,” you say, and kuroo swears he sees sparks fly around the both of you when you tiptoe up to press a kiss onto his lips.

when you pull back from the kiss, yura merely scoffs and stalks away and mrs kuroo looks like she was torn between frowning and smiling.

“i’ll go clear things up with yura,” she finally says, before giving the both of you hugs, “and tetsurou, i expect to hear details about how you got with (Y/N)!”

when she rushes away, kuroo grins when you let out a sigh of relief.

“i don’t think i’m going to be mr babbington anytime soon,” he smirks, and you let out a laugh.

“oh my gosh,” you say suddenly, and he startles, and turns to face you, “what’s wrong, (Y/N)?”

“i’m sorry i kissed you so suddenly just now, i just thought that it was the only way yura would—“

“it’s fine—“

“no! it really isn’t! we didn’t really establish what we could do and—“

“(Y/N)—“

“i’m so sorry if i made you uncomfortable—“

“(Y/N),” kuroo says firmly, and you freeze in the middle of your words and stare up at him, “it’s fine, okay? the kiss didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

he watches your shoulders sag in relief, and he clenches his jaw when he realises that it was now or never.

“hey, (Y/N)?”

“yeah? oh no, was it the kiss? it was really unco—“

“i like you.”

“i understand if you—wait what?”

he laughs at how adorably confused you look, with your nose scrunching up and your eyes squinting at him.

“kuroo, can you say what you said again? i think i misheard it.”

“you didn’t mishear anything,” he laughs softly, and he feels his heartbeat quicken when you stare down at your feet.

“uh, i didn’t make you uncomfortable, right?” he says after a minute, and he almost wants to punch himself for putting you in this position when you shake your head quickly.

“no. no! you didn’t make me uncomfortable. i was just thinking,” you quickly say, and he nods.

“kuroo?” you finally say after another minute of silence, and you hear him let out a quiet, “yeah?”

“i like you too.”

and just like that, kuroo feels the tension in the air evaporate, and he grins at you before leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips.

“(Y/N)?” he mumbles against your lips after he pulls away slightly.

“yeah?”

“you know you can call me tetsurou, right? you could’ve called me by that a long time ago.”

back to my fluffvember masterlist

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#kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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blackhakumen · 3 years

Text

Mini Fanfic #859: Meeting the WarioWare Gang (SSBU X WarioWare)

4:23 p.m. at WarioWare Inc.....

Ashley: (Fixes Up Lucas' Bow Tie) How are you feeling, Lucas?

Lucas: Nervous.....Shaky.... Maybe even a little terrified.....(Turns to Wario) I-Is there a word for all of this?

Wario: (Shrugs) I don't know. Fidgeted?

Lucas: Yeah. That's the one. Fidgeted. I am feeling definitely fidgeted right now.....(Turns to Ashley) Hey, how do I look by the way?

Ashley: (Smiles Softly) You look very handsome today. You really didn't have to wear the bow tie though.

Wario: Yeah. We're only having a picnic at the park.

Lucas: ('Sigh') I know. But Big Sis Ann insisted that I need to look my best for the occasion. This.... isn't too much, is it?

Ashley: It isn't. (Gently Grab Both of Lucas' Hands) And you have nothing to worry about here, Lucas. Everything is going to be just fine.

Wario: Ashley's right, squirt. I known these people for as long as I can remember. They're the most annoying and gullible- (Gets Startled Once He Notice Ashley's Dark Glare Is Pointing Directly at Him) I-I mean, they're the nicest people I know! A-And you don't need to worry about making a bad impression on them or anything. Just stay calm, be yourself, and everything will go good from there.

Ashley: (Genuinely Surprised) Wow, Wario. That's.... actually good advice.

Lucas: Yeah. (Smiles a Little) Thanks, Wario.

Wario: Eh. (Wave his Hand While Rolling his Eyes) It's whatever. I only did it to stop you from being a wuss. (Starts Picking his Nose)

Lucas: (Gets A Bit Grossed Out By Wario)

Ashley: (Gives Wario a Deadpinned Look on her Face) Stop picking your nose, Wario.

Wario: I do whatever I please. (Starts Wiping his Hand on the Side of his Pants)

Ashley: ('Ugh') (Starts Rolling her Eyes) Horridness aside, you think you're ready to do this, Lucas?

Lucas: (Sighs While Nodding) As I'll ever be. (Turns Towards the Office Door)......Y-You don't mind if I count to three before going in, do you?

Ashley: (Giggles Softly) Not at all, Lucas.

Lucas: Thanks! (Takes a Deep Breath) Okay. One......Two....T-

Wario: (Walk Past Lucas to Open the Door) One, two, three. We're going in. (Shoves Lucas Inside the Office) Move it already.

Lucas: Okay! Okay!

Wario: Wahahahaha!- (Gets Stomped on the Toe By Ashley Before Wincing in Pain) YEOOUUCH!!! (Starts Hopping on One Toe) You.... little....yauughh!

Lucas' eyes begins in widened in genuine surprise at the sight of everyone present in the office. Each of which are as colorful, energetic, and lively as Ashley described them to be.

Lucas: Are they really the employees of this company?

Wario: Yep. Each and everyone of them.

Ashley: Pretty lively, aren't they?

Lucas: Yeah..... They're so cool.....

Wario: (Already Getting Impatient) Hurry up and say something already!

Lucas: (Immediately Comes Back to Reality) R-Right!....U-Um!

Everyone in the office came into a complete halt at what they were respectively doing while turning their heads at the timid boy with a bowtie.

Lucas: I...u-um...(Smiles Nervously While Waving Hello to the Employees) H-Hi. I'm not sure if Ashley and Wario told you about me beforehand, but....my name is-

Everyone: LUCAS!!~

Without any hesitation, the employees excitedly rushes over to Lucas and pulls into a group hug/gathering.

Ashley: (Sighs While Having a Deadpinned Look on her Face) So much for toning the excitement.....

Wario: Yep.

Mona: (Giggles Awkwardly While Making her Way to the Duo Along with Penny) Sorry about that, guys.... They've been excited to see Lucas since we first heard about him.

Penny: (Smiles Sheepishly While Watching the Scene Play Out) It's kind of changeling for most of us to maintain our excitement for this long, ya know?

Ashley: It's fine. (Starts Smiling a Little at the Crowd) I'm glad they're taking a liking to him at least.

Mona: Us too.

5-Volt: (Makes her Way to the Trio While Holding a Megaphone in her Hands) Do you mind covering your ears for a second, dears? I got this covered. (Clears Her Throat Before Screaming her Heart Out on the Megaphone) QUIIIIIIEEEETTTTT!!!!!

Everyone stopped what they were doing and have their attention directly towards 5-Volt while letting Lucas go.

5-Volt: ('Sigh') Look, I'm happy to see our guest here as much as you guys are right now, but could you please start settling yourselves down before you give this poor boy a panic attack?

Everyone: Yes, ma'am......Sorry, Lucas.....

5-Volt: (Gives Lucas a Hand With a Soft Smile on her Face) We're sorry about all of that, sweetheart. Are you okay?

Lucas: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly While Getting Back up on his Face) I'm okay, ma'am. A-And there's really no need apologize for all of that. You all just took me by surprise is all.

5-Volt: Well, as long as you're okay, allow me to properly introduce myself: My name is Mrs. 5-Volt.

Mona: (Smiles Brightly at Lucas) And I'm Mona!

Penny: (Happily Salutes to Lucas) Penny Crygor, at your service! Ashley here told us quite a lot about you as of late~

Ashley: (Eyes Widened While Blushing)

Lucas: She has?

Mona: (Happily Nodded) Mmhmm~ She told us about how much of a sweetheart you are, how much she admires you since day one....

Penny: Ooh! She even told us she has dreams of marrying you som-

Ashley: (Already Flustered in Bright Red) OKAY! How about we introduce everyone else in this room, yeah? (Gives Mona and Penny a Dark Glare) Before my patience starts to dwindle....

Mona: (Shivers in Fear by the Glare Before Giggling Awkwardly) Y-Yeah....That uh....seems to be a good idea right now, right Penny?

Penny: Yep! L-Let's Introduce everyone! (Turns to Lucas with a Bright Smile) Lucas, we want you to meet our whole gang!~ Jimmy T!

Jimmy T: Yo.

Penny: Young Cricket and Master Mantis!

Young Cricket: (Bows Towards Lucas in a Polite and Martial Arts Like Fashion Along with his Master) Please to meet you.

Penny: 9 and 18-Volt!

9-Volt: Hiya!

18-Volt: How's it going, little dude?

Penny: Dribble and Spitz!

Dribble: 'Sup, kiddo!

Spitz: Nice meet ya on this fine day, squirt!

Penny: Kat & Ana!

Kat/Ana: Kon'nichiwa!~

Penny: Our alien friend, Orbulon!

Orbulon: Greetings, young, timid youngling.

Penny: A little girl from Luxeville name Lulu!

Lulu: I'm the hero of my hometown!~

Penny: My grandpa, Dr. Crygor and his assistants, Mike and Doris 1!

Dr. Crygor: It is such a pleasure to finally meet Ashley's future hus- (Gets Startled Once He Noticed Ashley's Dark Glare) I-I-I MEAN boyfriend! Yes.... That's what I meant to say.

Mike: Greetings, Ashley's Boyfriend.

Doris 1: Hello.

Penny: And this is our new addition to the team: Pyoro!

Pyoro: (Happily Squeaks at Lucas)

Lucas: Aww~ Hi, little guy. (Pulls Out his Hand) Nice to meet- (Suddenly Felt Pyoro's Tongue Touching the Palm of his Hand For a Few Seconds Before Putting Back in his Mouth) You.....

Pyoro: (Claps his Arms Happily)

Penny: He can shoot his long tongue to any direction he wants! Neat, huh?

Lucas: (Smiles a Bit Sheepishly) Yeah. He...kind of reminds me of Yoshi in a way.

9-Volt: Hey Lucas! (,Shows Lucas a Tiny Yellow Figure Standing on the Palm of his Hands) I want you to meet my pet: Fronk!

Lucas: Oh uh. Hello, Fronk. (Pulls Out Finger as a Friendly Gesture) It's nice to meet you.

Fronk: (Uses Both of his Hands to Hold Lucas' Finger While Shaking Him Up in Down in the Mid Air Must to His Surprise) The pleasure is all mine, Master Lucas. (Finally Lowers Lucas Down) And I must say, that bowtie of yours looks magnificent on you.

Lucas: T-Thanks, Mr. Fronk....You look great too. (Turns to 9-Volt While Whispering to Him) How is he THIS strong?

9-Volt: (Smiles Sheepishly While Rubbing the Back of Head Back and Forth) I.... might've modified him to have superhuman strength.

Lucas: Woah......B-But anyways, it's really nice to finally meet you all today. My name is Lucas a-and after today......(Closes his Eyes and Shout) I-I HOPE CAN WE BE THE BESTEST OF FRIENDS!

Everyone: (Cheers in Rejoice) YEAH!!!

Ashley: (Sighs While Smiling Sheepishly at Lucas) My darling Lucas~

????: Awwwwwww~

Ashley quickly comes back to reality as her eyes begins to widened before turning around to see Mona and Penny smirking at Her In a teasing fashion.

Mona: Staring at him with that lovey-dovey eyes of yours already?~

Penny: Hmmmmmmmmm?~

Ashley: (Groans in Annoyance While Walking Away) Let's just get this picnic over with.....

An Hour and a Half Later at the Diamond City's Picnic.........

Lucas: Wait. So..... You're telling me that Wario set an entire stadium contest, mistakenly stole a portable potty, and almost cheated all of you out of your money....just to order pizza?

Penny: Yeah.....It was pretty chaotic in those a two and a half days. But at least we had good time regardless. Even after Wario tried to steal our share of the deal afterwards.

Wario: Hey! In my defense, that Gold Challenge was all my idea from the very beginning.

Mona: Yeah, but we still helped.

Everyone (Except For Lucas and Ashley) Yeah!

Lucas: I...gotta agree with them, Wario. That was a pretty jerkish move on your part.

Wario: (Crosses his While Looking Away in Annoyance) Ehh Whatever! I can always scam you losers anytime I want....

5-Volt: (Place her Hand on Wario's Shoulder While Giving him the Dark Glare Herself) What was that?

Wario: (Gets Startled) AHH! N-N-Nothing!! W-Wario didn't say anything! I swear!

5-Volt: (Sighs While Calming Herself Down) I sure hope not....

Everyone: (Giggles Softly at Wario's Dispense)

Lucas: If you don't mind me asking, when was the first all of you have met each other?

Mona: On the day we first started working with Wario. It was supposed to be one time thing, but.....oddly enough, the more we started working on the company together, the more we got more closer to one another than we ever thought we would.

Ashley: (Nodded in Agreement) It's true. While Red and I met them shortly after, our entire relationship with one another has gotten more close overtime. In fact.....(Starts Smiling Softly) Besides the Smash Family, everyone here is.... practically like a family to me. Even if they do get on my nerves sometimes.

Penny: (Heart Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness) Oh, Ashleyyyy~ (Pulls Ashley into a Loving Hug) Thank you!~

Everyone (except for Wario and Lucas) begins to join in on the group hug. Showing Ashley how much she means to each and everyone to them as well.

Ashley: ('Sigh') Thank you so much, everyone.....Now, get off.

Everyone: (Chuckles Lightly as They Pull Away From their Group Hug)

Lucas: (Chuckles Lightly) Even as co-workers, you guys managed to form a close bond with one another. You really are amazing.

9-Volt: (Smiles Brightly) Thanks, man. Ooh! Speaking of which, what's your family like back home? You know, besides the one back in the Smash World.

Wario: (Starts Choking Up on his Food a Little)

Ashley: (Eyes Widened in Horror) Oh no.....

Lucas: Oh. Well, umm....Back at my universe, I have a dad, grandfather, a really great dog named Boney, and a mom and twin brother......(Slowly Starts Frowning Sadly) Or.....at....least I used to have mother and brother.....

9-Volt: Wait. (Starts Frowning a Little in Worry) "Used to"?

Mona: (Frowns as Well) What do mean, Lucas?

Lucas: Well.....um....My mother and brother uh.... They're......gone.

Everyone: ('Gasps')

Penny: (Almost Speechless) G-Gone?

Lucas: Yeah...W-Well, I mean.... They weren't.... "gone" per say. They were....killed if anything.....

Everyone: ('GASPS')

5-Volt: (Covered her Mouth in Anguish) Oh my god.....

18-Volt: H-How!? What happened!?

Everyone: (Starts Rambling On About What is Happening Right Now)

Ashley: Everyone!

Everyone: (Stops at What They Were Doing and Turns to Ashley)

Ashley: ('Sigh') Look, I know all of you have questions in all of this, but... could you please not overwhelm Lucas here? He's been through a lot....

Lucas: (Gives Ashley a Sad Yet Reassuring Smile) It's okay, Ashley. I don't mind telling them what happened.

Ashley: Are you sure you wanna go through with this?

Mona: Yeah. You don't have to force yourself to tell us.

Lucas: (Simply Nodded) I'm sure. It's....not gonna be easy to tell, but... I'll do my best to stay strong throughout it all. (Takes a Deep Breath Before Speaking Again) Okay. So....it all started back in Tazmily Village, my hometown, it was morning time and.....

Regardless of how challenging it was in a few areas, Lucas continues to tell everyone almost everything that happened to him in the past. About Porky, the night that took his mother's live away, the disappearance of his twin brother and the sacrifice he took for Lucas in the later half of his tragedy adventure. As he told them each details, it wasn't long before tears begins to fall down on everyone's faces. Even Ashley started to shed a tear or two as she held Lucas' hand throughout the whole process. The explanation itself only lasted around fifteen minutes as Lucas mentally sighs in relief for lasting this long without breaking himself down.

Lucas: ......And that just about sums up everything that happened. It was.....a rough time for me back then. Losing love ones, getting out of a near death experience....It was a miracle dad and I managed to pull through till the very end without losing our minds. But....on the bright side....(Starts Smiling a Little) It....did taught me to be more brave and mindful over the years. And in a way, I'm kind of thankful for that, cause.... I don't think I would've become the person I am right now it weren't for that and all of the new friends and family I've made along the way. Kuma, Duster, Ness, Red, the Smash Family....(Smiles Down at Ashley) Even you, Ashley. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me.

Ashley: (Smiles Softly at her Boyfriend) It's really no problem at all, Lucas. If anything, I should be thanking you for being my friend to begin with....(Starts Blushing Again) A-And for being my boyfriend afterwards~ I love you for that....

Lucas: (Smiles Brightly) I love you too, Ash-

Before Lucas could finish saying his girlfriend's name, him and Ashley suddenly gets pulled into a hug by Penny, while she's still in tears.

Lucas: P-Penny!?

Ashley: (Glares at the Gender Girl) What has gotten into you!?

Penny: Sorry! ('Sniff') Didn't mean to ruin the moment. ('Sniff') My emotions are already running all over the place. So....('Sniff') I thought maybe hugging it out....('Sniff') Would help it go down a little, you know? ('Sniff')

Ashley: (Sighs While Rolling her Eyes) Whatever helps you feel better, Penny....

Penny: Thank you! ('Sniff') And Lucas?

Lucas: Y-Yeah?

Penny: ('Sniff') I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that in past and I'm so happy you're doing a lot better now. ('Sniff') And I know what it feels like to lose someone who's close to you, so....('Sniff') If you ever need someone to talk you, I'll always be there to listen and help, okay?

Dr. Crygor: (Joins in on the Group Hug) That goes for me as well, young man.

Mike: And me.

Doris 1: And for I as well.

Young Cricket: We would be honored to help you anyway we can as well.

9/18-Volt: Don't forget about us!

Kat/Ana: And us!

Lulu: And me!!

Mona: And me as well. We'll always be there for whenever you need us, Lucas. Promise.

Ashley: You guys are too helpful....Can you believe them, Lucas?.....Lucas?

Lucas: (Already in Tears) I know we just met and everything, but.... ('Sniff') I'm so glad.....('Sniff') THAT WE'RE FINALLY FRIENDSSS!~

Penny: Oh buddy! Don't cry!~

9-Volt: Yeah! Of course we're friends!~

Ashley: (Sighs Once More as She Hears her Friends Rambling on About Their Newfound Friendship) (So this is where my life has gotten to at this moment.... Being surrounded by a bunch of hyperactive fools and a cute, emotional boyfriend.....) (Smiles Softly) (I love it already.)

5-Volt: (Smiles Tearfully at the Kids Getting Along) ('Sniff') This is do sweet.....

Mantis: (Happily Nodded in Agreement) Agreed. I believe this will be a start of a beautiful friendship together.

Dribble: (Noticed Wario is Sniffing Right Beside him) Hey man, you getting emotional there too?

Wario: N-No! ('Sniff') I-I'm not crying! ('Sniff') I just got something in eye!

Spitz: Yeah? Like what?

Wario: ('Sniff') (Finally Burst Out Crying) YAHHHHHHHAHHHH!!! WHY DOES THE TWERP HAS TO BE SO SADDDDDD!

Dribble: (Starts Snickering) So much for not caring.

Spitz: (Snickering as Well) Yeah. Guess you really do have after al- (Felt Wario's Snot Coming Out on his Sleeve Before Sighing) Nevermind.....

Bonus

Ness: So.... Lucas met these guys yesterday and you're saying that ALL OF THEM wants to join the squad as well?

Ashley: (Sitting Next With All of the WarioWare Crew While Giving Ness Simple Nodded) Yes. All of them.

Mona: (Smiles Softly at the Boy) I hope you don't mind.

Ness: N-Not at all! I was just.... surprised by how many of you are there, you know? But....(Sigh Slowly Turns to Wario) Are you sure letting him join is a good idea?

Wario: (Glares at Ness) HEY! I can be nice and trustworthy as much as any of you losers in this stupid mansion! (Starts Eating his Chips While Looking Away)

Mona: (Smiles Sheepishly) W-We'll make sure he's on his best behavior.

Ashley: Yeah. (Slowly Starts Moving Herself Over to Ness) We'll...make definite sure about that....(Whispers into Ness' Ears) Write his name in the Unofficial category. I don't trust him one bit.

Ness: (Whispers Back to Ashley) Neither do I. (Writes Down Wario Name Down his Clipboard Before Smiling Brightly at the Gang) Welcome aboard, guys!

Everyone: (Happily Cheers in Rejoice)

@26shann

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@cyber-wildcat

@ma-lemons

@albion-93

@illyrilex

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woozisnoots · 3 years

Text

brightest smile | lee seokmin

° pairing: seokmin x reader ° genre: fluff, nurse!au ° summary: first days, lasting impact. ° word count: 724 ° warnings: hmm hospitals? ° a/n: tysm to the bestest @escapewriter for beta reading this bc it was v v late when i wrote this !! doing the first week of #goingcarats strong i shall admit with brighter than sunshine himself, lee seokmin! <3 ok im sorry for the clique title, my creative juices are at a drought ><

masterlist!

“what if i put the blood pressure cuff on too loose, or worse - too tight? holy shit, seokmin, i’m going to be the worst nurse this world has ever seen. what if i forget to take their temperature? what nurse forgets to take their patient’s temperature?”

the words rush out of your mouth faster than you mind can register the situation. three weeks after the start of nursing school and you’re already diving into the first week of clinicals to fill the deed of any nurse out there: taking care of a patient. something that felt so far away. you guess three weeks go by a lot faster when you’re playing catch up.

your worries continue to muffle under your breath, not wanting to spread the negativity in the reach of your best friend, seokmin, who sat in the passenger seat beside you. to your surprise, seokmin isn’t as frantic as you are. other times, or rather, most of the time, it would be the other way around. yet this morning when you drove to pick him up, putting his best foot froward with his hands securely gripping his backpack on his shoulders and his lunch box strapped around the sides.

“don’t say that!” seokmin’s soothing voice brings you back to the dreadful reality as you look up from the stirring wheel and find yourself staring at the entrance of the hospital. if the whines weren’t enough, one glance at the grimace on your face expressed the feeling of distaste that was the consequence of today. “it’s our first day, they’re not expecting us to be perfect. and hey, you have me!” seokmin’s hands pounce his chest at the statement; his gesture finally erupts a small smile from you, admiring how pridefully silly he looks.

seokmin was actually the reason you applied to the program in the first place. if you were being completely honest, you wouldn’t pinpoint nursing as a career path that he would choose, but you also wouldn’t put it past him. count on the nicest person you know to take one of the most demanding professions! you admired his determination and hell, did he sure have a lot of it. he wasn’t one to get the best grades to begin with or most clinical experience; in fact, he had none prior to today.

“sometimes it’s not what you do,” you remember him saying such a phrase during one of your traditional pizzeria nights you two would occasionally have. even though your time spent together was lessened back then. “it’s the dedication that takes you there.”

staring at the seokmin before you, finally dressed head to toe in the uniform of his dreams, proudly where the school patch in the right side and stethoscope hanging around his neck, you can verify the truth in that statement.

seconds pass and your body starts to relax, letting your back slide down the driver’s seat and getting yourself comfortable in the snugness of your warm jacket before you have to take it off. “you really think i’ll do okay?”

“no,” you wait before reaching out to throw your sunglass case at him in hopes that he has more to say. “you’ll do better than okay, you’re gonna do flippity flipper fantastic!”

number fifteen of ways seokmin’s antics that were sure to brighten your day with no fail: making up the most absurd alliterations. it was true, it gets you every time and today was no different. “well, if you say so,” your giggles draw out in the midst of packing up the necessities in your scrub pockets, now keeping a smile on your face thanks to your best friend.

the clock is ticking and the next thing you know, you’re getting your stuff and locking your car, waiting up front of the hospital. and right when you needed him, seokmin was already beside you, intertwining your fingers with his. “ready?”

by now, people would think you be sick of being around seokmin due to his over-enthusiastic nature. silly of them to think you’d ever get tired of staring off into bliss just looking at his smile; and you get the privilege of being by his side all day. you can never compete with him when it comes to that, so you give your best reassuring grin and grip his hand tighter. “now i am.”

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storyend · 2 years

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I--- orz ---okay! You! Yeah, YOU! I wanna take the time to be emo with you for a second, so... To start this sappy shit OFF, for real, we have only known each other for only one ( 1 ) day, but I aren't joking at aaallll when I say this that I feel like it has been the LONGEST TIME that we are friends like dfjnJSNFKFS ...

You have such an endearing and delightful presence that honestly makes me feel at home whenever I see you on my dash or chatting with you, legit. Not to be even more sappy as fuck on main, but I wish I can hug you??? Or hold your hand, if you are comfortable with that... You just bring out the best nicest vibes EVER and I am!!! Wow, you really do make me one of the most happiest stars to exist!!! C':

And I am in absolute love with your portrayal of Dojka, okay, also, like!? When I went through your blog, I was beyond amazed to see how brilliantly well done you capture his character through your wonderful writings, headcanons, and even those lil' thoughts; as well as it is so heartwarming and inspiring to see how much passion and dedication you hold for him and his media!!!

I am beyond excited to go ( back lol ) into the orv universe and gush about it with you and just talk everything else with you along with writing / plotting with you more! You are so so so lovely and wonderful and oh my gosh, am I beyond grateful and happy that I somehow stumbled across your blog and we are now friends! :] ( Bestest best friends as ? and Dojka are! :D ) You are a constant starlight who I cherish dearly much, my friend! Thank you for being an absolute wonder. I adore you so much! <3 <3 <3

who else died... bc i did 🙋 ... this actually made me tear up what have u done to me... come here we’re gonna hug it out Right Now. ;___; i was soo scared to write kdj bc the stress of “no one knows what orv is” vs “ok so hes basically ur oc now!” vs “u have to do him justice” has been killing me but fr this made me feel a lot better <33 im soooo excited to continue writing with you and for you to read orv and i really hope you love it as much as i do. ? is my everything and So Are You! thank you for being such a kind and endlessly creative and talented person <33 we love you!!

#antigoddex #save.#⁽ ✧ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ 𝚂𝚄𝙱 𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚂 ╱ answered.#⁽ ✧ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝙷 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻 ╱ ooc.

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ricciardodaniels · 3 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVELY! THANK YOU FOR BEING ONE OF THE NICEST AND FUNNIEST AND MOST TALENTED HUMANS EVER!! HOPE YOU HAVE THE MOST AMAZING AND BESTEST DAY EVER! I LOVE U LOTS AND LOTS! ENJOY THIS ADORABLE PIC OF OUR BOY!! 💗🌸💕

meg this genuinely made me cry thank you so so much my love

#I love you the absolute mostest bestie <3 #lick the ask #ricciardhoes

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aestheticseungmean · 4 years

Text

Midnight Academy- Yeosang

You were born with magic, and because of that, you went to Midnight Academy. Yeosang caught your eye the first time you met him.

Magic Au, loosely based off of Harry Potter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Life as someone with magical powers can be fun if you knew how to use them. The wrong wrist motion could injure someone and the wrong pronunciation could turn someone into a frog and not a cat. Risks are a casual thing in the world of magic. There are many types of magic that each child will learn in Midnight Academy. It was a simple and quaint little school that was restored regularly. Not a crack lay in the foundation nor a chip of paint peeling from the wall at the start of the year. Throughout the year, typically, newer students blow up potions and cause the loaned rats to explode. Nasty business that is. The poor caretaker has to scrape the bits off the wall before scrubbing it clean.

You could see why he hated new students and trouble makers, they made his job impossible sometimes. If students were bad, their punishments consist of helping Mr.Darty with his job. Mr.Darty was an older elf gentleman with balding grey hair. More often than not, he was cranky as most of the staff were. He was always found accompanied by his favorite Sphynx cat, Chabiel. The two were inseparable as if the cat was his life support. Mr. Darty was not the only teacher who seemed to have an animal attached to them. Although he was by far, the one with the ugliest. Often, you’d see a mixture of miniature dragons, owls, cats, dogs, and even an occasional Harpy Eagle or Peregrine Falcon. They typically roamed the halls to deliver notes and packages to and fro their owners that the mailroom was too lazy to deliver or be bothered.

This year was a special one. It’s your first year at the Midnight Academy. Time to get away from the non-magical creatures. Muggles as they are called. You loathe your brothers whom you live with. Silence is scarce in that household and luckily, you were the only one who had inherited your mom’s recessive trait of witchcraft. She herself had not had any magic rather, she made up for it by being a very successful business tycoon. Often, you helped her manage some of her gaming companies and you tested them too. Hex Gaming Co. was the creator of some of the world’s most famous games such as Utopia, Weapons of Deception, Deception 2, Undying, and more. All of which were some magical role-playing game that was super addicting and had kids playing it everywhere. If you ever told anyone who your mom was then instant fame. Your dad, on the other hand, was not as famous but he was still a famous musician.

Aside from your brothers, the only person to know about your wealth and parents’ true jobs was your best friend, San. He had inherited magic but he’s also part incubus. You met him when he appeared on your block five summers ago. Fourteen was your current age now and you guys practically live with each other and do everything together. When most people hear that San is part incubus, they stay away because they are afraid of having their dreams visited. But what people didn’t stay to find out that San didn’t find the need to go into people’s dreams. Besides, he only found you slightly attractive, everyone else wasn’t even on the radar. Deep down you know that he might be bi but he will not let you have the satisfaction of being right.

————————————————————————

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲

San and you entered into the school that is more intimidating the closer you get. The seeming mile-high doorway made you feel small enough already. All the new students were being crowded together to get handed their classes and dorms they were going to stay in. Of course, you will miss your brothers but you got San! You’d prefer that any day. “I hope we get the same dorms. I don’t think I’d be able to live without you.” “Me too, San. Me too.” To say that you weren’t scared for your life was an understatement. Anymore worrying and you’d be dead. Finally, your turn came around to get your scroll. The teacher administering them was undeniably short and part goblin. He had a snaggle tooth that stuck out of the bottom of his mouth and long Yoda like ears that stuck out of his head. Little hairs covered the face, they were minuscule but visible.

“Name.” The voice was gravely and harsh but you still gave him your name. “Here you go.” You took the parchment with shaky hands. San waited for you at the door. “I got Sapphire dorm!” As soon as your face fell, so did his. “I got Emerald dorm.” Emerald dorm has the reputation of some really mean and uptight people. They are usually the richest ones. “No escaping from my money now.” You groaned out. San placed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You got this.” He ignored the stares but you didn’t. Blood rushed towards your cheeks. A slender figure appeared in front of you. You recognized it as the teacher most often seen by the headmaster. Her voice was strong and dominant, perfect for teaching. She was aged like the expensive cheese your mom was forced to eat at business meetings. “ATTENTION! You are to go in and find the table corresponding with the dorm name you got. The headmaster will address you soon.” As you walked in, hand in hand with San, you were taken aback by the busy chatter. Almost immediately, you were pulled away from San and torn to the table decorated in different hues of green.

You know nobody so where to sit was nerve-wracking for you. “You can sit by me.” A hand waved in the air and you saw a boy giving you a cute smile. “Me?” He could be talking to anyone so you wanted to make sure. “Yeah! I’m new too.” With nowhere better to sit, you sat down next to the blond boy. “Hi! I’m Wooyoung and I hope we can be friends!” “I’m ________.” You smiled at him. A voice sounded through the room getting everyone’s attention. “Students. Most of you are coming back from a great year last year and I wish you a welcome. For the new students coming here this year, we all give you a warm welcome and wish you well in the following days to come. Make good friends, learn new things, and most importantly, do great things. I hope that I do not need to interfere with any problems as our teachers will deal with it accordingly. Just know, we will be paying attention.” Wooyoung and you shared a nervous look.

“For now, we feast!” Little fairies delivered the food to the table. Immediately, you recognized them as brownies. They are house fairies that live to clean as love dishes of cream. You loved the brownie that resides at your grandparents’ house. His name was Hayelam and he was the nicest creature you had ever met. At night when everyone was supposed to be asleep, you’d sneak out and leave a bowl of warm cream on the counter. It was a ritual and you couldn’t go to sleep without doing it. Maybe you could sneak some for them. Without thinking, you grabbed some cream. “Are you going to make whipped cream for this delicious pecan pie?” Wooyoung asked, causing you to look at him. “Ah no, habit. I’m going to heat it up somehow for the brownies.” “Brownies? Where?” You giggled at Wooyoung looking for actual brownies. “The house-elves silly. They love warm cream.”

Taking out your wand, you attempted to do a simple heat spell but it didn’t work. Neither did the next six tries. “Let me try.” How would he be able to do it? You watched in amazement as the metal bowl in his hands turned a soft red causing the cream to simmer a little. “Woah!” The cream was still hot when he set it down onto the table. “I’m a descendent of a fire fairy.” “I guess you could say that you’re hot.” Normally, San would give you a dirty look for your puns but Wooyoung loved it. Although he was laughing, he was dying inside from embarrassment. “Let’s dig in!” You exclaimed, grabbing a turkey leg and taking a bite. San laughed at you from afar glad that you found someone to talk to. Don’t forget about me. Get out of my head, San. Looking up, you caught him pouting but after you gave him a smile, he cheered up.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Mr.Song, would you be so kind as to answer this question on the board?” Your red-haired classmate stayed visibly slumped in his seat. He wasn’t the only one confused, you watched as Wooyoung got confused as well. Discreetly, you waved your wand and watched as the answer appeared on your seatmate’s notebook. Thank god that he saw it appear and reworded it. “In a sense, if you added blisterwort instead of chorus eggs then you would essentially get a toxic hair remover. Extremely dangerous if taken in as it acts as a poison as well. The victim would be dead within minutes.” “Very good, Mingi.” The teacher turned and continued on with her endless lecture. “Thank you,” Mingi whispered. “You’re welcome!” Your hushed voices caught the teacher’s attention and she was now standing in front of you. “What are you saying you’re welcome for?” Once again, Mingi froze up, you, on the other hand, were used to this pressure.

Thinking quickly of a lie, you responded calmly. “My seatmate asked me to help him with the things he doesn’t understand.” “Hmmm, all right. No more talking in my class.” The bell rang and the hallway became overfilled. “Wait up!” A hand on your shoulder made you jump. You turned and saw Mingi. He was taller than you thought, around 6’0. “Can you actually tutor me in alchemy?” “Sure. The defense room is empty around six.” He smiled and nodded. A different, smaller hand appeared on your shoulder except for this time, you recognized this hand. “San!” You were quick to hug him tight. “We have the next class together so I wanted to see if you wanted to walk with me and meet my new friend.” Playfully, you pinched him and pouted. “You’ve already replaced me?” “YOU REPLACED ME FIRST,” he whined. Mingi, who was still there, cleared his throat. “Oh yeah, San, this is Mingi, my classmate and friend. Mingi, this is San, my bestest friend in the entire world.

“What about me? I thought I was your bestest friend in the entire world and he was your BFF.” You giggled as you watched Wooyoung walk up still whining and complaining about your rejection. “Woo, of course, I love you. You two are my bestest friends in the whole wide world.” Once you introduced the two, Mingi went on his way while you, San, Wooyoung, and San’s friend whom you later learned was named Seonghwa, walked towards class. You watched as San waved bye to his newfound friend before walking into class with him and Wooyoung. In the middle of class, you watched as a 2nd-year student came in to get the teacher to break up a fight. “MR.OIEK! YEOSANG AND TJUM ARE FIGHTING RIGHT NOW.” “Lead the way, Hongjoong.” The class rushed towards the windows where there was a clear view of the courtyard.

Unfortunately, you got pushed out of the door during the madness and fell right into one of the boys. For a moment, the boys stopped and stared at you which let the teacher neutralize them. “Why are you out here Miss.____?” “I-I got pushed. Sorry, sir.” You hung your head in shame, not wanting to look into his intimidating eyes. Ignoring the pain in your wrist or the odd warm feeling on your lip, you stood up. “Yeosang, I trust that as a 2nd year you can show her to the nurse’s office.” “Yes sir.” When you started to protest, the boy gave you a look, the one your brothers gave you when you should shut up. Sighing, both of you started trekking towards the nurse’s office well aware of the fact that you’ll be missing the next class too. With Yeosang leading the way, you couldn’t help but take in his figure from behind.

“Right in here.” “I’m fine, I really don’t know why you are taking me to the nurse.” The look on Yeosang’s face made you question if you were losing your mind. “You are bleeding from a cut on your face and your wrist is sprained.” If that wasn’t convincing enough, the nurse told you the same thing. There wasn’t much she could do quickly so she gave you a concoction of herbs to help heal you. “Wait here for a few minutes so it can start working.” You nodded and watched as the old woman sauntered away, mahogany robes swishing with each step. As soon as the door shut, you turned to Yeosang who was forced to stay with you. He was entranced by something outside of the window, a bird perhaps. His features were vague but what stood out to you was a birthmark adorning his left eye. Your gaze traveled down his body, crossing over his arms and his black robe with a sapphire blue trim and down further. Underneath the undone robe, you caught sight of the pressed button-up with the top two undone showing the perfect amount of collarbone.

His gaze flickered towards you and you looked at your feet, avoiding the blush of the fact that he caught you when you were checking him out. “I saw that, you just checked me out.” A meek sorry was all that you could manage, your face ten times redder now that he called you out. Luck was on your side, the nurse returned and assessed the healing. She warned you not to strain your wrist too much until tomorrow. You agreed and followed Yeosang back to where lunch was being held. All through lunch, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the older boy and you completely ignored what Wooyoung was saying. It wasn’t until Yeosang caught your eye that you looked away, nodding to whatever Wooyoung was saying. You still threw him glances and at one point, you swore you saw him smile. Or smirk. Either way, you finally focused on Wooyoung and whatever he was saying.

Lunch ended and it was time for the next lesson. Fighting. For some reason, the school decided to do second years and first years together, something about the experience. The teacher, short and balding, partnering you up with a short boy, definitely a second year, about two inches taller. His casual laid back posture made him look superior despite the fact that you won every sparing round. “Petrificus Totalus!” You flicked your wand before he could blink and once again, he found himself bound, unable to move. “Very good work, Miss._____!” The boy, whom you later learned was named Hongjoong, congratulated you on doing well while pouting. You thought it was absolutely cute. The bell rang and you stayed behind. There was still a few hours before dinner and Mingi was supposed to meet you. A tall figure emerged behind you and then another.

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.” “Do they need tutoring too?” Mingi shook his head. “Great work at fighting today, Hongjoong couldn’t even raise his wand.” Mingi’s friend, who was as tall as him if not taller, sported black robes with an emerald green trim. Same as yours and you can’t fathom how you missed someone as tall as him roaming around the dorm. “I’m Yunho by the way.” His cute smile gave you puppy vibes and you forced the instinct to cuddle him away. Mingi introduced you quickly to move on through to alchemy. You couldn’t help but giggle when his potion failed and he screamed at it. “I DID YOU RIGHT! YOU JUST DON'T LIKE ME, DO YOU?” Eventually, you found yourself rolling on the floor laughing when Yunho had put a silencing hex on Mingi. Mingi continued to scream but nothing came out. “You only get your voice returned when you get a kiss on the cheek.” Mingi sheepishly looked at you and leaned closer. “Yunho…” He laughed and ended the hex. Mingi was taken aback at first but ultimately ended up laughing along. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

Year two

Grey clouds rolled overhead signaling the start of another gloomy season. You, San, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, and Hongjoong trudged towards the train car that was to take you back to the academy. Surprisingly enough, you realized that the boys didn’t live that far from you. As summer rolled along, you and the six boys grew closer and of course, your brothers liked them too. Yeosang, you found, should’ve been in the emerald dorm but something got screwed up in the housing situation. The rumor got around that he was being switched back to the correct dorm though only time will tell. Although, it would be quite awkward. The seven of you were confused to find someone in your car already. A boy of a stronger build and brown hair sat by the window staring out of it. “Hello?” His head snapped towards you. “I’m sorry, am I in your area?” He was new, you could feel it, the newbie energy radiating off of him. You knew the others could too. “It’s okay! You can sit with us. I mean you’re new aren’t you?” Gosh, you love how kind Wooyoung is. He’s so sweet, you are surprised you don’t have a cavity. “Y-Yeah.” As you all settled in, the boy introduced himself as Jongho.

We introduced ourselves and soon got lost in laughter and conversation. “Did you see the new Deception: End Of Time game is coming out tomorrow?” Wooyoung asked. An abundance of yeahs and can’t waits filled the car in agreement. “You’ll love it. I did.” The boys looked at you in confusion. San laughed and nudged you. These people didn’t know you were one of the testers of the game let alone the daughter of the creator. “My mom runs that company and created those games. I test them out.” “You have to convince her to let us test some out too.” You giggled at Jongho’s enthusiasm. “Maybe during spring break. I know mom is working on a big game.” They cheered quietly. San a little more considering he’s done it before and knows the excitement of giving suggestions. It was also a bonus when the character he creates in the test is a character that gets added to the game and is already situated to his stats.

The ride to the school felt short. Jongho proved to be a perfect fit for your friend group. He sank back at the intensity of the school but you and your friends ushered him forwards. “Don’t worry! You’re only alone until they give you a dorm and there is at least one of us in each dorm.” The first year smiled and watched as you guys sat at your respected tables. It wasn’t that long of a wait considering his surname was a C. He quickly found that he got ruby dorm. It turns out for you that Yeosang and Yunho got mixed up therefore Yunho was with San and Yeosang got transferred into his rightful dorm. The headmaster made his welcoming speech before launching into an apology. “I’d like to wish a formal apology towards two-third years. I humbly ask for you to see this as a way to make new friends.”

You glanced over at Yeosang getting surrounded by a bunch of people welcoming him into the emerald dorm. His face looked panicked, clear that he was not used to all this attention. Wooyoung seemed to notice it too and felt for his hyung. “Yeosang, hyung! You can sit with us if you want.” He looked at the two of you, happy, ecstatic to see two faces he knew. A year ago, if someone would’ve told you that you’d be sitting with Kang Yeosang, you’d have laughed in their face. But here you are now, sitting face to face with the boy. His eyes met yours and you fell into a trance. “Earth to ______!” “Sorry, what were you saying?” Wooyoung repeated his words once again, not even bothered that you had zoned out once more. The bell rang and you jumped up, ready to head to the dorms, forgetting the tradition you and Wooyoung did every day last year. “Are we not going to heat up some cream for the brownies?” You turned and nodded sheepishly while grabbing a bowl of cream someone had left. Yeosang watched in amazement as Wooyoung's hands caused the liquid to bubble.

The following weeks of school consisted of review and having awkward run-ins with Yeosang. It wasn’t until your professor introduced teleportation to you that things got started. All second years had to learn how to use their magic and teleport from one place to another. And with most people, you initially aren’t the greatest when you start to learn something. For the next few days, you’ve practiced and practiced, only teleporting to the common room and back to your room. Unfortunately, the following day, you were going to be tested on your skills, and frankly, you could barely even make it out of your bedroom. This is how you found yourself at two in the morning on the roof of the mailroom trying to teleport from one end to the other.

You closed your eyes and imagined the other side and muttered some hopeful words that this would actually work. A quiet pop sounded and you opened your eyes to complete darkness. Trying to find your way out of wherever you were, you blindly walked around only stopping when you hit your ankle on something metal. The surface you fell on was a mix between hard and soft. A pained groan emitted from behind you causing you to let out a few choice words. In the midst of the rant, a light turned on and you caught Yeosang’s brown eyes boring into yours. “Well, this is most definitely not where I wanted to teleport, sorry for appearing in your bed at 2 in the morning.” The words lingered in the air and neither one of you moved. Maybe you should just give up and fail the test.

A sigh left Yeosang’s lips and he grabbed his wand. You watched curiously as he stood up and took a place beside you. “Hold my hand.” “H-Hold your what?” His hand grabbed yours and you felt the familiar swirly feeling that you got when you teleported. A cold breeze brushed your cheeks and you shivered realizing that you were back outside. “Why did you bring me here?” This was the first time, you actually went into the gym despite this being your second year. “I’ve been hearing from Wooyoung that you have a test tomorrow and I…I wanted to help you learn to teleport.” You wanted to hold Yeosang and treasure him forever but that would be quite awkward. “Okay then. What are we waiting for?”

Turns out that either you’re a great teleporter or Yeosang is a great teacher. You opted for Yeosang though because without him, you would’ve failed. In fact, you actually aced your test. The first one since the best friend test that you did with San in first grade. When the students were to return to the dorm, you waited excitedly with the little slip of paper in your hand. For the first time, Yeosang was late back to the dorm. He found you asleep on the couch beside Wooyoung who was doing his homework. “Hey, hyung!” “Hi, Wooyoung. Why is she asleep?” He asked, pointing to your form. “She wanted to show you that she aced her test and she waited and waited for you. I came out to keep her company but she fell asleep.” Yeosang carried you to your room and tucked you into your bed. He left a note with one of the post-its that he found on your desk along with your unfinished homework. He’ll apologize tomorrow for leaving you waiting for so long.

The knock on your door woke you up. When you opened your eyes, you saw the sunlight peeping in through the cloudy windows. “Rise and shine, angel. It’s almost time for class.” Shoot. Class. You rushed to get dressed only stopping momentarily to read the note attached to your now finished homework. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I had some things I had to do. Meet me on the rooftop tonight at midnight so we can celebrate your success. -Yeosang’ You shoved the paper and the note in your bag before running out to the common room. “Come on Woo! We’re going to be late for class.” You two rushed to the Alchemy classroom and took your assigned seats. A smile formed on your face as you saw your seatmate had already made it there. “Good morning, Sannie!” “Morning, Sunshine.” He smiled at your chirpiness and returned his attention to the homework he was rushing to finish.

The day buzzed by and midnight arrived quickly. Quietly, you teleported to the roof and saw Yeosang already sitting on the edge. “Such a pretty moon, isn’t it?” His question caught you off guard. Had he heard you arriving. “Yes, I suppose so.” “So I heard you aced your test for the first time. Glad I could help.” You took a seat next to him and sighed, watching your breath form a cloud in the chilly air. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me.” “I want to make a deal. For each test you ace, I’ll tell you something about me.” Yeosang is a mysterious person and plus you had so many questions about him. Why is he in the Emerald dorm? Favourite food? Cats or dogs? Why go to the academy? Why teach you? “For your first test, I’ll tell you what everyone wants to know. How am I in the ‘rich’ people dorm?”

He told you how his dad was a very famous doctor and his mother was a famous chef. His deal made you ace all your tests-with help from him of course- for the rest of the school year. By the time summer rolled around, you practically knew his entire life story, like how he loves the colors red and black or how much he treasures his drones. You knew that he vents by riding a skate board and he loves to play your mom’s videogames. His reaction was just like the other’s when you told him who your mom was. Yeosang demanded -more like pleaded but he won’t admit that- to meet your mom and praise her for her games. When you introduced him to the guys, they all welcomed him with open arms aside from Hongjoong and Seonghwa who were previously friends with him already.

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

You walked around blindly, only stopping when you hit your ankle on something metal. The surface you fell on was a mix between hard and soft. A pained groan emitted from behind you causing you to let out a few choice words. In the midst of the rant, a light turned on and you caught Yeosang’s brown eyes boring into yours. “Well, this is most definitely not where I wanted to teleport, sorry for appearing in your bed at 2 in the morning.” The words lingered in the air and neither one of you moved. Maybe you should just give up and fail the test.

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

𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

Everything was the same as last summer except this time, Yeosang was involved. The same playful banters and video games nights proceeded as normal. The adventures and park dates continued. To them, Yeosang was just another family member, not an outsider. Everything was the same down to a T. The ten of you gathered on the train once again to head to yet another year at the academy. For you, it was the third year of your life but for the older three, it was the beginning of their last year at the academy. Four years is the total amount of schooling needed to be deemed okay enough to use magic on the streets. Although, some students head onto university to further their magic education or regular education depending on who you ask. If you asked your mom, she’d say something along the lines of it’s not her place but four years is way too short.

The dorm rooms were the same as usual, clean and tiny. It almost feels like home. You sighed and sat your bags on the bed and headed to the common room to spend some time with Wooyoung. When you got downstairs, he was sitting there staring at the fire. “Hey, Woo! Long time no see.” You joked around. He smiled and tackled you in a hug. “You saw me thirty minutes ago but it does feel like forever.” He squeezed you extra tight before letting go and returning to his original seat. He patted the seat indicating that he wanted you to sit so you did. The seat was slightly warmed by the heat of the fire. It was cozy and swallowed you into the cushion. “Wooyoung?” He hummed and turned his head towards, signaling that you had his attention. “What’s going to happen to the friend group now? I mean it’s Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Yeosang’s last year. Next year Mingi, San, you and I are graduating. And, Jongho will be last. I’m scared, Woo. I don’t want to lose us.”

His eyes softened and he ran his fingers through his hair which showcased his sad eyes. It was evident, he didn’t want to lose you and the guys either. Unbeknownst to you, from the staircase, Yeosang was heartbroken and his eyes threatening to spill tears. Before he came to this school, he was a nobody. A quiet kid who was good at school and had anxiety. He couldn’t make friends, it was impossible. Yeosang couldn’t stop embarrassing himself in front of his classmates. He had told you all this already after you aced your transformation test at the very end of the year. Your words on that night will forever play in his head as a way of remembering that he could make friends who loved him. “Yeosang-ah. I want you to know that if you ever need a friend, just call me and I’ll be there.” No way could he let you guys go. Back in reality, you cried silently into Wooyoung’s sweater. Yeosang had to control his own emotions before helping you, besides, Wooyoung looked like he was doing a good job.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

You hated Yeosang. You hated that he had you putty in his hands but was completely oblivious to it. Either you were going to confess or you were going to die. Those are your only two options until you told San and he suggested using a love potion. It seemed like a good idea at first but it soon became a fiasco. Neither one of you knew how to make a love potion, that was advanced stuff. Something Yunho would know. This is how you found yourself in the kitchen baking a ‘Love Cupcake” as the boys called it. “I don’t know if I’d be scared or honoured if a girl slipped me a love potion.” San pondered out loud to no one in particular. “I’d be scared.” “Yunho, you aren’t helping my mind.” He smiled and let out a quick ah as if he was going to say something. “This is the perfect thing for Yeosang. I’m tired of seeing you go for an oblivious idiot.”

The cupcake turned out messy and San ended up wearing more than half the icing due to a wrong cut to the tip of the bag. But all in all, you were pretty impressed with the look of the sweet pastry. The yellow cake topped with the light red icing was placed on a paper plate. You carefully held it and met up with the rest of the boys in the courtyard. “Yeosang! I have this for you. As a thank you.” Yeosang grabbed the cupcake and took a bite. He hummed in delight and watched you throw away the plate. “This is delicious. Thank you.” According to Yunho, once the item containing the potion is consumed, it will take up to twenty-four hours for it to set in. You mustered up the most innocent smile you could form. Now, you wait.

𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 passed and Yeosang was still acting the same as usual. No compliments, no flirting, no heart eyes. Maybe the potion was incorrect. Not possible, Yunho aced that class. Maybe, it didn’t work. It doesn’t hurt to ask the ‘Potion Master’ if something went wrong. “Three days passed and he’s still acting the same. Is it possible that it failed?” “No way. I’ve seen this work before. There’s no chance for it to go wrong.” Now you were forced to confess. Well, eventually. You turned to go back to your dorm to vent to your diary. “Hey, _____!” That smooth, deep voice set you off. You turned towards Yeosang and stomped up to him. “You-“ you forcefully poked him in the chest. “I slipped you a love potion but what the hell? You’re not even acting different.” You threw your hands up in the air in defeat at his confused look.

“Maybe, if you used your brain, you would’ve noticed a lot sooner that I like you.” Yeosang towered over you and watched as you stood in place dumbfounded. “Close your mouth princess, you’ll catch bugs.” “Y-You like me? Like, like like?” At this point, Yeosang was fed up with your obliviousness as hypocritical as it seems. “If it weren’t against the rules, I’d kiss you.” “Screw the rules!” The boys were cheering as you and Yeosang snuck a quick kiss. “Meet me on the roof tonight for our first date.” A smile appeared on your face and suddenly, you couldn’t wait for midnight to roll around. As excited you were for the night, it seems like mother time had other plans. The seconds seemed to pass by slow, almost as if each tick was an hour itself. Finally, midnight rolled around and you teleported to the roof to find Yeosang sitting on a blanket surrounded by a bunch of food. What a perfect first date for you.

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violett-writes · 4 years

Note

Hello idk if you take requests but can you write something about Dream comforting a crying Reader who is self-concious and hates their sexuality? I'm going through stuff haha if it's no bother though

You sniffle, your arms crossed at your chest as you pull your head as close to your chest. Your chest burns, the hatred inside yourself making your cheeks turn a bright red. Tears stream silently down your face as you try to quiet your sobs. It’s been a rough few weeks, needless to say. You’ve begun to question whether or not you’re truly straight and that scares the shit out of you. It’s always been beaten into you that anything less than straight is godless. A sin, the worst of them all.

Your discord goes off, your best friend Dream calling you out of the blue. Your shaky fingers answer the call as you cover your mouth to quiet the last of your sobs.

“Hello? (Y/N)?” You hear Dream’s voice, concern lacing between every syllable when you don’t immediately greet him.

“Hi Dream,” You say, your voice cracking slightly as you try to make it less obvious that you were crying.

“Why are you crying?” He immediately asks as he turns on his camera in hopes that you would reciprocate. “Let me see you.”

You sob, covering your mouth tightly, “No Dream.”

You see his brows furrow as his mouth straightens into a line. “(Y/N), please... what’s wrong?” He asks, leaning towards the camera.

You sigh and bite your quivering lip. “I-I....” You let loose your sobs, hugging yourself tightly. “I think I’m not straight.”

Dream sits back, his eyes widening as his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Woah... (Y/N)... T-that’s... t-that’s heavy.” He stutters as he struggles to find the right words.

You sob some more, hot tears streaming down your face.

“I don’t mean that’s heavy as in it’s bad that you’re not straight!” He immediately explains. Concern evident across his features. “Please... let me see you. I need to know you’re okay.”

You sigh, thinking for a long moment before turning on your camera. Your blotchy face comes up, pixelated slightly. Your eyes are red, showing the every minute of the 3 hours that you’ve been crying for. Your arms are wrapped tightly around you, trying to sooth yourself. Dream signs as he takes you in.

“(Y/N). You know there’s nothing wrong with not being straight. There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect in every single way. You not being straight doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” Dream offers you a sad smile as he tries to collect his thoughts.

“But-” You stammer.

“No.” Dream interrupts you. “There is no but. You not being straight doesn’t negate all your wonderful qualities. You not being straight isn’t even a negative quality. You’re nice, you’re smart, and you’ve got the greatest laugh. Anyone is lucky to be loved by you. To be loved by you would be the greatest thing to happen to a person.

Being queer isn’t a bad thing. It’s not a sin. You’re worthy of love and you deserve to be happy in your own skin. I know it’s hard to come to terms with the fact that you’re not straight. It’s heavy, but you don’t need to hold it alone. Have you told your parents?”

You shake your head, your parents wouldn’t be the most supportive of your newest revelation.

He takes a deep breath. “Then I’ll hold it with you. You are not alone. You are not damaged goods. You’re a beautiful human being, inside and out. I’m here with you, forever.”

You smile, your tears slowing. “Thank you for being the bestest friend ever, Dream.”

“I know, I am (Y/N).” He jokes, giving you a classic lopsided smile.

He turns serious. “But, for real, (Y/N). Please don’t think you’re wrong or an abomination. You don’t have to tell anyone you’re not ready to tell. Thank you for trusting me enough to share this with me. I’ll be with you every step of the way. And if anyone, and I mean anyone, gives you shit, I’ll beat their fucking ass.” He finishes, a look of determination on his face.

And in that moment, you suddenly felt like things are going to turn out okay. They may not be okay right now, but in the future you’ll be just fine. You’ll love someone with your entire heart and they will love every bit and piece of you in return. Your life is not as hopeless as you previously thought. You give Dream a smile as he begins to talk about what he and George got up to today in hopes of distracting you slightly and it worked.

------

I just want to say, I know that it’s very hard to come to terms with the fact that you may not be as straight as you previously thought. As a member of the LGBTQ community, I struggled with it myself. I still struggle with my sexuality to this day.

But you are not broken. You are not someone to be fixed and fuck anyone who tells you different. And you do not have to worry about picking a label right now. Sexuality is fluid and can change, do not think you have to label yourself as anything other than ‘not straight’. I think some people fall down a rabbit hole where they try to box themselves in because society loves labels. But it is totally okay to just say you’re queer.

My DMs are always open if you ever need another perspective on things.

I love you all, my little chickens.

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frenchiefie · 4 years

Text

AAaaaaaa I started writing out a post talkin about my bday but fell asleep pretty soon after finishing up everything else for the night so lemme get this all typed up now!

I just wanna give a hugeeeee thank you and hugs and tears to my amazing friends and family, this was my best birthday in YEARS. ;w; I went into it not expecting anything other than a normal day since the last few years have been really shitty and I didn't wanna get my hopes up, but everyone was just so!! Kind and thoughtful in the most soft and personal ways, nothin extravagant or anything but, little personal shows of love or really knowing me that absolutely melted my heart!!

It started off the second it hit midnight with a super cute and excited message from my bestest Tim which made me go to sleep smiling like an idiot sgadhaj and then I woke up to some super cute bday drawings from friends!!! ;o;

My brother came home with the Valentine's Dunkin donuts that I love so much on his way home from LA since he knew I wouldn't have had the chance to get them earlier, along with getting me a super bright and colorful high quality eye shadow palette since he knows I love doing extra colorful makeup!! He said he thought it suited me and it was just such a cute personal touch and ahhh.... I cry... ;w; My little sister drew one of my favorite scenes from Borderlands 2 on my birthday card that I have been gushing about and IT'S THE CUTEST THING!!! LOOK AT THIS!!

So wholesome asdghasdj!! My other lil sis drew a pic of her and I on her card and worked very hard to get my hair side swoop just right and I’d post a pic of that too but my phone is dead rn so adghasdhasj maybe I’ll do a photo post in a bit!

My mom got me a really cool joker figurine and shirt since she knows I love my best boi, as well as some white cheddar cheez its which seems silly but is honestly super cute cause just last week we were at the dollar tree and I excitedly grabbed them, proclaiming them as my favorite flavor, but was reminded that her, my bro and I were about to get lunch so I was like “aaaaah heck ur right” bUT SHE REMEMBERED I WANTED THEM AND GOT ME A BUNCH OF BAGS,,, THAT’S SO CUTE,,,, and then my mum and stepdad noticed I’ve been dying in my raggedy old computer chair and they bought me a nice new one and just!! Idk every gift was so thoughtful and sweet and!! aaaaAAAA!! Not to mention my mom made an absolutely bangin ice cream cake using my very specific favorite ice cream flavor (breyer’s chocolate truffle ice cream mmmmm) and I’m just still so excited about everything days later >w<

My family and one of my best buddies all joined me at one of the fancy AMC theaters with the reclining chairs to watch the Sonic movie which was aBSURDLY CUTE!!!! And my friend gave me a huge bar of my fave kind of chocolate in the world ehehehe aND A LOT MORE SWEET FRIENDS OF MINE ARE STILL WORKIN ON GIFTS FOR ME WHICH IS THE NICEST THING AND I CR Y AND JUST!!! FEEL SO LOVED!! I love you guyssssssssss so much ToT <3333

#atomic garbage #happy rambles!!!#LOVE MY FRENS!!!#LOVE MY FAMILY!!#AAAAA

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kaunis-sielu · 5 years

Text

Dear Mr. Captain America: 1

Dear Mr. Captain America,

My name is Elizabeth, I’m in third grade at Roosevelt ellamentree school in Washington DC. I go to school where my auntie works, she teachis the little kids. I like the Avengers but you are my faverit. I like your costum with the big star on it.

The large, slightly messy handwriting said. Steve loved getting letters from kids, if they were in the area sometimes he’d drop by and say hello. It was always so much fun to see their amazed faces.

My teacher told us that we shood tell people we write to about us first. It’s more pursenl.

Or at least Steve thinks that says personal. It’s, adorably, spelled pursenl.

I am writing to you because I want you to mary my auntie.

This is a new one. He doesn’t get marriage proposals for aunties from their nieces or nephews.

My auntie is the best auntie in the world. She has a one eyed dog named Odin and he loves caroots. I don’t love caroots but I love my auntie. When momma has to work at night I get to stay at aunties house. I have my own room! Sometimes I have to share with other kids who come visit for the night because their parents are nawddy. Auntie is the nicest that way. You would like her because you like nice people. Not mean ones like Samantha. Samantha is not nice Mr. Captain America.

Please write back so you can mary my auntie.

Love,

Elizabeth

Steve reads through the letter again before he pulls the second thing out of the envelope. It’s a picture of a young woman and a little girl making silly faces at the camera. This must be Elizabeth and her auntie. Elizabeth is blonde, with hair that curls toward the ends. Her hair is messy and her tongue is out, she looks like she’s having a blast.

Her auntie, has her hair pulled back and a pair of glasses with dark frames on. Her eyes are closed, mouth open and her tongue too is out. She’s in the bottom corner, while Elizabeth seems to be on top of her, or above her somehow. She’s pretty, at least from what Steve can tell, and this letter has him interested.

He looks up the school that Elizabeth mentioned. It’s not far from his old apartment, the one he had before Tony built the compound, and it might be kind of nice to go visit.

He always did love DC in the spring.

“Hey.” Bucky says coming into the room, his own pile of fan mail has been piling up and now that they finally had a couple of days off more than one of the Avengers was catching up on their mail.

“Hey.”

“Anything good?”

“Some of the usual. Some cute pictures from a couple classes and a handful from one of the local hospitals. I was thinking about making another visit soon if you wanna come with.”

“Yea sounds good.” Steve isn’t sure why he didn’t tell Bucky about his letter from Elizabeth, was he honestly considering meeting her auntie? He shakes his head and folds the letter back up then tucks it, and the picture, into his jeans back pocket. Then he gets back to work answering more fan mail. Tony’s robots go through all of it first, getting rid of anything negative, creepy or gross, like the erotic story he’d once gotten or the several pairs of worn Captain America underwear.

Steve was thankful that program had been set up before Bucky got here, the amounts of hate mail they’d destroyed addressed to Buck had made Steve see red.

An hour later he sees the end of the pile of fan mail. There are a few letters left, when Bucky gets his attention with a snort.

“What?”

“I think this was meant for you more than me.” Bucky says before clearing his throat.

“Dear Mr. Bucky Barnes. My name is Elizabeth and I’m writing to you because I know you’re bestest friends with Mr. Captain America. I sent him a letter too but since he’s your bestest friend I thought you might be able to help me. I think Mr. Captain America should marry my auntie. Please tell him you think so too. Love Elizabeth.”

Bucky produces another picture from the envelope and studies it for a second. He passes it over to Steve, this one isn’t the same as Steve’s picture.

This one Elizabeth has her face smooshed next to her aunties. They’re cheek to cheek and have chocolate all over their faces. Her auntie has a little whipped cream in her hair, both of them look like they’re laughing. Eyes squeezed tight, wide smiles on their faces.

“She’s cute.” Bucky comments.

“Yea.”

“You get a letter from the kid?”

“I did.” Steve says glancing up at Bucky. “It was adorable.”

“Funny that you failed to mention it,” Bucky teases and Steve winces slightly, he’s been busted. “You gonna go meet this girl?”

“I don’t know Buck.” Steve sighs. He really doesn’t know what he wants to do here.

“I think you should. You haven’t gone out to a school visit for a while. Sam thinks you’re turning into a hermit, ever since Sharon got married you’ve closed off.”

“I don’t wanna hurt Elizabeth by getting her hopes up.” Steve argues lamely. Bucky’s clearly not buying it.

“Uh huh. I’m not saying you have to marry the aunt. Just go meet Elizabeth. Make her year. I’ll even come with, and I’m sure Sam would too.”

“I’ll think about it.” Steve mumbles before getting back to work on the last dozen or so letters he’s got. He’s pretty sure that he’s going to go meet Elizabeth, every time he looks at the picture Buck left on his desk he makes up his mind more and more.

He’s going to write Elizabeth back. Then he might, might, come and meet her auntie.

Hi Elizabeth,

Thank you so much for your letter and the fun picture. You look like you’re having a lot of fun with your auntie. I’m glad that she’s nice and that when you get to stay with her you get your own room.

I’m sorry that Samantha isn’t nice. Sometimes when people aren’t nice they’re hurting, maybe she needs a friend. Could you try being Samantha’s friend? If she keeps being mean maybe you should tell your teacher, mom or auntie.

I’m glad you like my uniform. I like it too. I like my shield the most though, it’s fun to bounce and it keeps me and my friends safe.

Steve bites the end of his pen, staring down at the paper.

Next time I’m in DC I’ll try to make some time to come meet you and your auntie. You both seem like my kind of gals.

Your friend,

Steve Rogers

(Captain America)

Steve then folds the letter tucks it into an envelope and addresses it. It goes into the out pile and Steve can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning of...well, something.

Tag list

@patzammit @memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @thinkwritexpress-official

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #imagine steve rogers #imagine #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #avengers #dear mr captain america story #bucky barnes #imagine captain america

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ask-the-friendly-ink-demon · 5 years

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Important Message I Would like to get off my chest for a bit

I would like to say something to you all, throughout the years that i’ve had this blog, i thought it would never get this well liked, i thought i was just gonna be another one of those cringy 13 years old roleplayers that are always in character, but, well, it’s 2019 and here we are, and i would like to say,,,, thank you.... thank you everyone for being here with me, throughout all the hardships i’ve faced over the years, and with the bullshit i have to deal with at home, i still find someway to smile throughout it all. it’s because of you guys you guys are the reason why i keep going with this blog, why i keep moving forward in life and interacting more with others, it’s you guys who made prowler who he is today character wise pretty much, i enjoyed seeing you all interact with my characters, and most of all, even if i don’t get any more asks or starters, just seeing ya’ll like my stuff is more than enough to make me move forward for the rest of the day, you guys are like a second family to me, and i love you all to death, even if you all just like, fave and then leave a few seconds later that’s really all im glad for, that you all still notice my work and like it, even if i would be glad if i could get asks again, im not gonna be a little bitch and just, spam ask box is open, that was the old old old me, this is a new year and a new me, a few moments of ya’ll times as i would like to say to some of my most closest friends or famous people who’ve helped me in the past and still help me to this day even if they don’t know or feel it. @ask-coldarcherbendy- one of the first friends i actually made on here during my main blog, shade has been a good person and a good friend to me, and was the reason of how fast my blog grew in a short period of time, she’s the main reason why i created my own bendy blog in the first place so in a way she is my idol, and im proud to have you have you as a friend. @ask-soul-bendy- my second but amazing friend in the whole world, sheyd has been there by my side whenever i felt down, or depressed, or angry, he’s a great talker, and a great listener and was willing to stop everything he was doing just to talk with me about my problems sometimes, for that i thank him, he’s one of the greatest artists i know in my opinon, and a amazing friend to me <3 @ahrifoxtailgoddess- i would like to thank you ahri, for being a very good friend, and almost like a sister to me at times, you’ve been one of the best friends i’ve ever known for years on both DA, and on here, i’ve watched you grow and you’ve watched me grow, you have a job now and here i am, still here but at leash you can meet new people, for that im happy for you, i thank you for all the times you’ve and i’ve goofed around, for all the times that we would sat sit down and just laugh about random things that make no sense, and for giving me inspiration to draw more, if it wasnt for you i wouldn’t have found so much joy and happiness with drawing, so i hope that even if you may not find your work the best, i hope that you remember all the fun that we had together, love ya fam~ <3 @ask-modern-demonarchived- even though i know your no longer on tumblr, i still have hopes that you lurk around here from time to time, if you do, im glad that you could buy the time to view this, the mun here is just, really sweet, and very amazing, them being the first people i had my own precious boy, bendy meet, by then he was just called modern, you were a very huge inspiration on me, as due to how much your writing style inspired me to make my own writing style, throughout my years i’ve just, been improving, for that i thank you my friend, i hope that you are having a wonderful life, whereever you may be for now. @kkw424- though we barley talk now a days on tumblr, im quite glad that we got to knew eachother for a while and had fun goofing around in messages, and for having prowler meet one of the most cutest little demons that he’s ever seen, and in a way, i would have to thank you for your own way of drawing bendy gave me the moviation i wanted to start drawing my own bendy once again, i guess what im trying to say is that if it hadn’t been for you, i would have never started drawing my own boy again, and if i even did, i probbally would’nt have not put that much effort into it ^^; @licoriceblackaliceangel- even though we barley talk now a days, i honestly enjoyed all the times we’ve have with my bendy and your alice, despite of many possibly situations, we somehow still found ways to be friends despite of everything and for that, im glad to have you as a friend. @sammys-sanctuary- another amazing friend that i met who i’ve now consinder one of my other idols, out of all the three that i met before everyone else, sammy was one of the artists and story makers that i have found the most interesting and amazing, plus they were the reason of how i met the creator of spider!bendy! @ask-spider-bendy- speaking of the mun of spider, i would like to thank him, for being a amazing inspiration towards me, and for being a very wonderful person and artist, your art and posts always makes me laugh no matter the day or mood im having, somehow your posts just have, a unique vibe to them that just, makes people like me laugh like crazy. @metallicartist- another person whom i met during my first years of being on tumblr on this blog, they were the nicest i have ever met, and a amazing friend to this day, i owe it to her of being another inspiration to why i draw, because im hoping that one day, i can draw as good as her, maybe someday that’ll happen, someday. @inkwise, another person whom i met thanks to interactions with some of my other friends, i was scrolling around tumblr and just, happened to come across this blog, and by then i was trying to be more social and all so i figured why not and talk a bit with them, best choice i’ve ever made, because of the sweet mun that is known as avi (the god) they inspired me mentally to be the person i am today, even if i don’t show it sometimes, im glad that we are and still are friends. @inkgalaxys- another person whom i met during when i was coming back slowly from my long ass hitaus, i originally met them when they asked alpha (they told me it was meant for prowler but hh) a small little starter, which at the time i wasnt that hesitant to roleplay with other people like i am now, but i guess time changes, and like some years later i decided to have conversations with some people that i knew over the years on this blog and pastel just happened to be one of them, again, another best choice, i enjoyed seeing their blog, and their art style is just, adorable and amazing, as a fellow cartoonist artist myself i respect you, i still do! and im glad that we are still friends, despite with things that happened, somehow we forgave eachother and, moved on from it, your characters and little roleplays with mine are always fun to see and view whenever im lurking around on tumblr, and plus honestly your one of the most valid people that i would say that deserves more than me out there, so again thank you for being such a dear and an amazing friend towards me, i still hope that sometimes we can still have fun with our characters goofing around on tumblr and all that jazz, maybe someday it’ll go back to that. @one-eyed-twin- me most favorite BATIM Ask And RP AU blog of all time!~ when i was simply scrolling around tumblr i have no idea when i stumbled across this blog, i admired the art style of this and wanted to see if this blog was messageable, sadly not, but before then despite that i found the mun and they were really nice, and we became good friends! with them i was inspired to create a more, child like and kinship version of prowler that would later be his trademark mood for whenever he interacts with clyde, who is the most sweetest of demons and deserves better in his life, please go by their blog sometimes and give them love, they deserve it <3 @derpy-doodlees and @anawizachu585- two people who i consindered to be the bestest of friends that i had and talked with when i was only comfortable with talking with few people, i found them one day and just, had a chat, eventually we got to talking a lot more and discovered that we all had a few things in common, plus there also sisters too! and they are really nice and funny! two of the most funniest and kindest friends that i’ve ever had @halfusek- one the most famous people on tumblr, their strange but amazing art style made me honestly very happy every time i would see it, i would just, get a whole lot of wholesome vibes from them, plus, their joey is just, beautiful, along with their blog and content, they are one of the best people i would call an idol and possibly a friend in the near future. @a-rae-of-sunshine- one of the most recent bloggers i’ve met, who i already consindered to be famous, is very nice and very cool! i adore their HEA!au and it’s wholesome content, im glad that i had the chance to talk with ya and become slight friends! @ask-eb-drago-bendy- another person whom i met during my slight hitaus from tumblr when i was just lurking around, i got a slight random ask from them, and being my curious self i decided to view their blog before anything, and i got to talking with them, and we became good friends, their art style actually inspired me to make detailed art more often than i would normally do, plus gave me the slight inspiration to make my sweet boy have a scary dragon like form~ @theswordandthependle- queenie is a god and a amazing friend, nothing else to say, there pretty funny too, made me laugh a few times too. @problematicprojectionist- another friend whom i met during my first few years slightly on this blog on tumblr during my long ass hitaus, their art style were amazing and their norman is, just a sweetheart, he and my henry got along very well ;W; and plus the mun, angel is a sweetheart and a amazing person. @mad-hatter-ison- another person whom i met when i came back during my long ass hitaus, they were funny, cool, and nice! and honestly that’s all i would want to see in a friend, being nice and having fun with eachother! they inspired me to actually be more social around people and talk more, even though i’ve been slightly not doing that,,, im trying ;u; @core4lost- another person whom i met along with sheyd, though at first we barley talked a lot, mainly on da and tumblr but later on we became quite good friends! and even though we’ve barley talk now, i still have high hopes in the near future, plus it was for them that prowler turned out to be such a cutie pie when meeting other toons like core’s adorable little demon child named corr~ @instrumentsofcyanide- stella is a amazing person and one of the most funniest bendy bloggers i have met in my life, their bendy named oreo had been the main cause of my more happy mood swings, their posts and shitposts are just the most beautiful and funniest i have ever seen, plus they are a good friend of mine that im glad to have met <3 @ask-the-crafty-demon-bleh- and lastly i would like to talk about one of the most other slightly famous people i know, they inspired me to change my bendy’s personality and behavior to make him more original, and made him stand out from others, i enjoyed seeing their content, and their adorable little bendy character named crafty, whom he and prowler became good friends just like with me and their mun, and honestly, with them and the mun of soul-bendy, they inspired me to make more friends, and be more strict, but also more polite and mature too, they were amazing role models, and amazing friends, and they still are some of my most amazing friends to this day. thats... really i all have to say ya’ll, i know this post is like, very long right now but im hoping that ya’ll would have the time to view it when you get a chance, and before you all ask, no this is not a post of me saying goodbye forever, then it would of been a lot more sad oof, i may go on a short hiatus sometime during spring, but im not gonna go on another long ass hiatus or leave tumblr completly, it’ll take more than my emotional life and stress to keep me from leaving the main scource of why im who i am today, so again to everyone, thank you all for supporting my blog, and to those who have been with me since the beginning, you all are valid and beauitful and deserve to be loved by everyone, that is all i have to say, imma gonna get off now but i hope you all took the time to read this post ;U;

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