♔

i'm ao3 user barfs! i mostly write midoaka and todobaku but at the moment my main fandom is kingdom hearts! some translations can be found in the fic archive :-)

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Henlo I read some of your fanfics and I love them dearly... 😭 Do you have a main blog???

ahh i’m so glad you like my fics!!! i do have a main blog but i really never use it and it’s largely kingdom hearts reblogs. no personal posts or anything

if you don’t mind kingdom hearts ramblings and me being a fool, message me off anon for my twitter i guess haha

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Not really an ask. But I'm on chapter five of Pings. I'm crying my eyes hurt my nose is running and it's midnight. Thanks. I wish you make more major character death fics.

Not really an ask (2/2) I forgot to mention that i can't read a single paragraph without crying. That's all.

oh man i still get so happy when i see i got a message about pings even tho it’s been so long since i put it out..! ahhh i’m so glad you liked it! 

i’ve been very busy but i promise i’m still writing, just not posting what i write as much as i probably should :x

[bbarfs]

i didn't even know class bike bkg was a thing until i found your fic jesus but 💓 ily thanks for writing

ngl class bike bakugou is my fav thing about bnha fanon :x i’m glad i could share it with you! luv you too anon..! ❤️❄️💥🔥❤️

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hey it's fine, i don't mind waiting! your fic is really so good! 💕💕💕💕

thank you so much for understanding and taking the time to send me these nice messages ahh it means a lot..! :-)

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thanks for converting me to the tdbk side ily

ahhhh i’m so glad you like the pairing now!!!! 💕💕💕💕💕

i know i said i would update sooner but i swear a new chap is coming eventually!! :-) 

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YEAH OKAY I LIKED THE TDBK SMUT BUT THE MOST IMPORTANT HERE: YOU STILL LIKE KUROBAS 👀👀

!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!!! I STILL LOVE KUROBAS!!!! PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT KUROBAS 

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tysvm for your class bike bakugou fic ft. todobaku and size queen bkg and tdrk's big dicc, i'm so so sorry it's just everything i love and everything i've ever wanted in one piece aaaaa pls never stop writing filthy tdbk bless

ahhh i’m glad you like the fic!!! i’m super happy that people out there enjoy kinky todobaku as much as i do so there’s nothing to apologize for! also thank you for taking the time to send me a message, it means a lot!

sorry i’ve been a little lazy with updating but i’m hoping to have something up within the next two weeks :-)

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Pls don’t shut up about size kink I really needed that entire fic in my life god bless u

!!! i’m glad you like it!!

and lord knows i couldn’t actually shut up about size kinks even if i tried u__u

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hi again ajdbshb same anon frm before <:-) I just read ch3 and hot damn... p0rn with angst is just how I like it ... it made my day, ty for the hard work!! I'm gonna reread it tmrw to leave a proper comment so see you on the other side soon 🤗 ps. I hope you're feeling better, hope you have a good day <3

ahh i’m so glad you liked the new chapter anon..! it means a lot that you’d take the time to leave me such a nice message ;_; 

i’m feeling a lot better now! so no worries :-) hope you enjoy the future chaps!

[bbarfs]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Bakugou Katsuki Rating: E

“Why do you actually like sleeping around so much?” “Is now really the time to play therapist?” “Just wondering.”

With a sigh, Bakugou leans down until their faces are barely half an inch apart.

“’Cause it feels good, dumbass.” Bakugou’s voice is hushed, but very much felt as each word brushed their lips together. “I’ll show you.”

A/N: they fuck also i’ll shut up about size kinks one day

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hello I just wanted to say that I'm loving your todobaku fic T___T class bike bkg is everything I didn't even know I wanted 👌🏻💦😖 ty for sharing it with the world!!

ahhhhh i’m glad you like it!! also i’m super sorry i’ve been too lazy to upload a third chapter i swear it’s being worked on lmao

honestly i can talk about class bike bakugou for days on end... it’s really popular in jp/kr fandom which is what i’m mostly familiar with so it’s nice to see that the western/eng audience enjoys it as well!

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Bakugou Katsuki Rating: E

A/N: still mostly pwp, plot stuff in the next chapter maybe probably hopefully

[bbarfs]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Bakugou Katsuki Rating: E

“Life’s a real bitch.” Bakugou drawls, shamelessly trailing his eyes over Todoroki. “Y’know how all the morons in our class get off on calling you the ‘unofficial strongest and hottest kid in class’?”

Todoroki nods.

“Congrats, looks like you got the biggest dick in our class, too.”

A/N: ao3 user barfs not writing angst for once..?!

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Title: Scum Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Midorima Shintaro/Akashi Seijuro Rating: E Warnings: Oral sex, dirty talk/degradation, all consensual tho, basically pwp

“I’m an elite.”

The word ‘elite’ does Akashi absolutely no justice. If anything, Akashi is making a modest claim.

“And you, Midorima,”

There’s a moment of silence that Akashi takes to look up and make eye contact. Midorima tenses. Akashi is the one kneeling on the ground with his head craned back and a cock just a fraction of an inch from his mouth, and yet he has every ounce of control in the room.

“Are scum.”

A/N: in which i continue living a life of filth 

“Midorima.” “Yes?”

It never ceases to amaze Midorima how Akashi manages to look so charming and maintain an air of dominance even when he’s kneeling on the ground between a piano and a bench—between a pair of knees that squeeze his slender shoulders too tightly. It’s wrong. It’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating and annoying.

It’s such a ridiculous turn on that Midorima forgets to exhale.

“Let’s try this again.”

Midorima doesn’t respond—he knows better than to respond. He knows to speak when prompted and to not roll his eyes. As much as he wants to fuss and whine, he doesn’t. Talking back to Akashi when playing basketball or shogi is one thing, talking back when Akashi has his slender fingers loosely holding his cock is something else entirely. Midorima wants affection, attention, anything that has the potential to end with release.

“Midorima.” “Yes sir?”

The fingers tighten. Midorima’s breath catches in his throat.

“Perfect.”

Again, he doesn’t respond.

“You’re absolutely perfect like this.”

Silence.

“You’re very lucky, Midorima.”

This time Akashi rewards the silence. He leans in, pressing his lips to Midorima’s cock with a smile. He can’t see the smile, but he can feel it and it leaves his head spinning. Akashi doesn’t know a thing about luck, but Midorima chooses to save his lectures on horoscopes for a more convenient time.

“Don’t you think?” “I suppose.” “You suppose?”

Akashi raises a brow. He doesn’t seem offended—Midorima doesn’t think he’s ever seen Akashi offended. No, he’s still smiling. He’s smiling and languidly stroking his hand up and down.

“Do you think you deserve this?”

It’s a strange question that takes a moment of consideration.

His initial answer is yes. He absolutely deserves ‘this.’ Akashi doesn’t visit often, and when he does it’s a struggle to find privacy. The tiny piano rooms in Shutoku don’t provide any comfort, but they provide four soundproof walls to keep his classmates out and Akashi in. He deserves ‘this’ because he’s so hard that he aches. He deserves it because Akashi is consistently relentless with his teasing. As he waits for a response, Akashi alternates between latching his mouth to the side of his length and dragging the flat of his tongue along the underside of it. Even with a mouthful of cock, Akashi looks charming. He doesn’t look dirty—just gorgeous.

His second answer is no. There is so much to admire about Akashi that it leaves Midorima’s head spinning when he attempts to quantify his perfection. He’s intelligent and talented at everything he does. He’s beautiful—especially at times when he’s pinned to a wall with his sticky thighs trembling and knees knocking. He’s just as beautiful when he’s kneeling on the ground and teasing one hot breath after another against every patch of wet skin he leaves in his tongue’s wake.

Midorima doesn’t know what answer Akashi wants to hear. It’s always one extreme or the other with him and he can be impossibly hard to read. Akashi always either wants it hard and fast, or soft and slow. He either wants to tease for hours or get every drop as quickly as possible and watch Midorima squirm from overstimulation. 

“I do.”

Akashi pulls his head back.

Midorima swears under his breath.

“Do you?”

It’s a question, but it’s not a prompt. Midorima learned early on in their relationship to distinguish one from another.

“Do you think you deserve this? And you deserve me?”

Midorima asks himself if he deserves the embodiment of perfection every night. He loses sleep over it, but on days that he has the privilege to wake up beside Akashi, he remembers that love has nothing to do with entitlement. Love is simple. It’s the tight—yet fluttering—feeling in his chest that he feels when he so much as breathes the same air as Akashi.

Sex with Akashi is an entirely different story.

“I personally believe that I’m doing you a favor.”

Midorima nearly scoffs. Instead he breathes out a breathy moan as Akashi nuzzles his cheek against his cock. He’s infuriating. He’s adorable. He’s infuriatingly adorable—or maybe he’s adorably infuriating.

“What’s my name, Midorima?”

This time it’s a prompt. Midorima knows because Akashi milks the answer from him by tightening his grip and hastening each flick of his wrist.

“Akashi.”

The name rolls off of his tongue and tastes so sweet that it’s addicting.

“Do you know what it means?” “Yes.”

Finally, Akashi takes the first few inches of Midorima’s cock into his mouth. He drools and sucks while bobbing his head. It feels mind-numbingly good and Midorima lets him know by tangling his fingers in Akashi’s hair and guiding each motion. Except Akashi doesn’t need any guidance. It’s nothing more than an excuse to feel how soft his hair is. It’s hard to tell beneath a layer of bandages, but Midorima couldn’t bring himself to let go of Akashi long enough to unravel the bandages to touch him properly.

“Our difference in social standing is fairly obvious, isn’t it?”

Akashi speaks when he pulls his head back just enough to let the head of Midorima’s cock rest on his tongue. His voice is muffled but Midorima can fill in the lost syllables. Akashi speaks in questions, but he isn’t clueless. He’s intelligent and to some people, he’s considered manipulative.

To Midorima, he’s just Akashi. He’s the boy he’s loved since his first year of junior high, and will likely love to the grave.

He is also, conveniently enough, the very boy that Midorima was holding his climax back for.

“I’m an elite.”

The word ‘elite’ does Akashi absolutely no justice. If anything, Akashi is making a modest claim.

“And you, Midorima,”

There’s a moment of silence that Akashi takes to look up and make eye contact. Midorima freezes. Akashi is the one kneeling on the ground with his head craned back and a cock just a fraction of an inch from his mouth, and yet he has every ounce of control in the room.

“Are scum.”

Akashi barely tightens his hand. It’s likely done absent-mindedly as he adjusts his weight on his knees—and yet it’s all Midorima needs before the hot coil in his gut snaps. The fingers in Akashi’s hair tighten and pull, yanking him in and practically begging for more friction. Akashi winces, but he also obliges. His jaw goes slack as he takes more into his mouth. When Akashi dips his head down and swallows, his eyes water. In any other scenario, Midorima would wipe away those tears for him. Right now he can only tangle his fingers n Akashi’s hair some more.

His orgasm hits hard, and Midorima clenches his jaw to stifle any moans, gasps and sobs of pleasure. Regardless of how many times Akashi kneels in front of him, that build up, spasm and release leaves him dizzy every time.

He doesn’t stop immediately. Akashi lets Midorima ride out his climax in his mouth by dragging his tongue over every inch that he can reach. It’s astonishing to Midorima how there’s no gagging even when Akashi’s nose nudges against his abdomen.

It’s hard to breathe for a moment but it’s made easier when Akashi finally draws his head back and straightens his posture. He hums as Midorima huffs under his breath. It’s humiliating, getting off from just the slightest amount of degradation, but he knows Akashi doesn’t mind or mean what he says at times like this. Regardless, Midorima pouts and slowly lets go of Akashi’s hair so that he can get up. Akashi laughs, but only after swallowing what’s in his mouth. The gesture is so filthy it makes Midorima want to go for round two.

“Was it good for you?”

Akashi asks, and now there’s no reason to distinguish a prompt from a question. Midorima doesn’t need permission to speak, and Akashi doesn’t need to discipline him because of it.

“Yes.”

Midorima watches as residual cum dribbles down Akashi’s chin from the corner of his mouth. He turns his attention to Akashi’s eyes immediately afterwards for the sake of not letting his mind wander.

“You’re lovely.”

Akashi muses as he cups Midorima’s jaw. He leans in for a kiss that Midorima returns without an ounce of hesitation.

It’s sticky, wet and bitter, but Midorima wouldn’t have it any other way.

He came to the conclusion long ago that he’s okay with being scum, so long as he belongs to Akashi, and Akashi only.

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Midorima Shintaro/Akashi Seijuro Rating: M

“If a patient can’t be saved and there are no extraordinary measures left that can be taken… how do you do no harm?”

Midorima eyes the bottles of pills on the nightstand beside Akashi. There are selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors and monoamine oxidase inhibitors, beta blockers and benzodiazepines. Akashi’s taken them in every combination and at every dosage imaginable. He must be exhausted, constantly titrating medications that never quite seem to work. Midorima was partially convinced that Akashi is only humoring him as a doctor, not as a significant other, by medicating.

“You do nothing.”

A/N: i haven’t written a darn thing in a thousand years whoops

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Title: Collections Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Midorima Shintaro/Akashi Seijuro Rating: M Warnings: Non explicit/implied sex, unhealthy relationships, the usual midoaka angst Summary: A collection of four drabbles about loving a boy that doesn’t want to be saved. (~3.5k word count total)

Accompanying playlist

A/N: This is a collection of four unrelated drabbles that I’ve written over the course of the past year and just wanted to get off of my computer. I’ve posted all of these on my twitter before so I’m sorry if you’re seeing this again! Forgive me for the second person POV, I always write in second person and switch it to third for complete works... But for these I didn’t want to spend more than 45 minutes on each one. These drabbles (especially the second one) heavily influenced Thermodynamics so it may seem a little redundant.  

Drabble List

Chess

Absinthe

Sins

Imaginary

Chess

i. The King: The piece the whole game revolves around and represents our deeper self, the divine spark within us. And yet, it is the least powerful piece in terms of ability to move about the board. It can only take one step at a time, though it can travel squarely or triangularly. 

He is your king. To say that he is your universe would be a cliché and a lie. He is more than that. With soft lips he breathes air into your lungs. He kisses everything that is broken, and in those moments you forget any and all heartache. But he is more fragile than you, and when those lips begin to quiver and he mutters your name, your lungs collapse. "Midorima," he rasps with your hands around his throat to keep him together. You do not remember how to breathe without him. The spark inside has gone out, and the fiery boy you once knew is no longer there. You're killing him. You've been killing him, and for that he is muttering thanks against your lips. The hedgehog's dilemma is cruel, but you don't know how to do anything but bloody his quills more than you already have.

ii. The Queen: The most powerful piece on the board having unlimited movement in any of the eight directions. She is the power of Nature, reflecting the light of the King, possessing unlimited potential.

He is your queen. With perfect posture and measured strides, he commands the attention of anyone and everyone. He's small—so, so small, but there is not a single person that looks down on him. The boy you remembered as a gentle breeze caressing you and the first warm drizzle of spring was now a typhoon. The spark inside of him has returned in the form of a thunderstorm, and he singes your fingers. "Shintaro." He calls, and you are immediately at his feet where you belong. "Thank you." He continues and your tongue goes dry. "For leaving me." It's what you get, you think to yourself, for following in the footsteps of Prometheus. You fell in love with the very boy you killed, so you gave him that fire he spits from his tongue. And like Prometheus, you are chained forever to stone as he tore at you during the day, and coddled you with flames during the night. 

iii. The Bishop: These pieces remain upon their own color throughout the game and can only move diagonally. One bishop travels the path of the head, and the other enjoins the path of the heart.

He is your bishop. In your head he embeds commands, orders to abide by and laws for you to recite. You wish you could obey blindly. This is your repentance for allowing him to come apart to begin with. His word is the word of god, and you will follow him until he bleeds from you clipping at his heels. "You are nothing but a means of winning." But he is nothing but your means of living. "Do not touch me, Shintaro." Your fingertips burn when you try, but you will singe away the bandages and burn yourself to the bone until he returns. In your heart he caresses the wounds left behind. He apologizes again and again, and you don't want to hear it. There is nothing for him to apologize for, but you can no longer kiss away his words. "Feel me, Midorima." To touch your god would be a blessing you do not deserve, and yet you cannot stop your hand from reaching deep into your own chest to touch him just one more time. You reach. You break your own bones and tear your own tendons. You hurt. He breathes.

iv. The Knight: The knight represents the awakening of the spiritual initiate acting in the world. It moves by leaps of intuition along the sides of a right triangle. It alternates between white and black square with each move, therefore engaging the head and hearth in each action. Only the knight or a pawn can make the first move of the game.

He is your knight. The way that he mounts his horse is flawless—just like everything else that he does. His posture is impeccable, and you remember what it's like to have that same weight on your lap. His knees squeeze to slow, and you recall how he did the same to you when he could no longer hold his own weight. Slender fingers grip tight at the saddle the same way that they once gripped at your hair. You are envious of Yukimaru, even if half the time, he is no longer yours. He goes back and forth, black and white, and you are slowly beginning to forget which side of him you love and which side of him hurts. You feel guilty, but even if you knew how fragile he really was, you don't think you would have held him any looser. 

v. The Rook: These are the only two pieces permitted to move strictly along straight lines in the four cardinal directions. They represent our physical power to act in concert with the world's material structures.

He is your rook. Tall walls encompass your heart, and with each day that passes, the castle eclipses the sun and moon. You do not need the sun, and you no longer need the stars you once loved. He has become your everything. While you pride yourself on just how high you can reach, how far you can arc a ball, you want to stay low to the ground and kiss the walls that he put around you. The outside world has become terrifying without him, and you refuse to move on until he can come with you. Waiting is not a problem when his castle provides you with everything you need with the exception of companionship. It doesn't matter. You don't want the companionship of anyone other than him. Sometimes you swear that the walls are closing in on you, but you wouldn't mind even if he crushes you for a second time. It doesn't hurt anymore, but you wish it did.

vi. Pawns: Pawns represent ordinary men and women attempting to move across the board of life towards eventual initiation into union with the divine. The pawn does not recognize the divine forces behind its life. It only moves one step at a time. Always forward, never backwards.

You are his pawn. Since you met him, you have dreamed of sharing a throne with him. You don't understand what happens in his head or how many people occupy it, but you will kiss each and every single iteration of his personality until your lips go numb. Surely you will find one that will fill your lungs again. While you wait, you move forward. Inside his castle, your feet sink into the ground. Outside his castle, your knight has been slain. Your bishop has fallen from grace. Your queen has tarnished and no longer reflects the light that you once thought would guide you home. Your king is still out there, but you can't backtrack to find him. When you learn to breathe on your own, you will take his throne and you will become his queen, his bishop, his knight and rook. You've never won a game of chess against him, but one day he will learn how bittersweet the word 'Checkmate' tastes when whispered against his lips.

Absinthe

Shintaro looks at you as if you are the stars in the night sky. 

You've watched countless times as his eyes danced across constellations. He preached to you sacred translations of the cosmos into the shell of your ear. You've heard it before. You, Sagittarius the Archer, point to the brightest, most breathtaking center of the Milky Way (Shintaro compares it to your ivory complexion). He, Cancer, the Gate of Men, cradles souls from heaven to earth until the end of time (he holds you in the same manner). He says it's funny, how you go far, far away, while he's fated to watch from Earth. You strive for what mankind cannot reach. It tears you apart. Shintaro knows it. He touches you gingerly to keep you whole. You miss his sermons.

You want to be fluent in those touches and return each one with grace. You already know what the stars have to say, and you wish you didn't. Cancer is a water sign, and his voice fills your lungs with the sea. Sagittarius is a fire sign, and you scorch him when he tries to get close. You boil him away. He never extinguishes your flames. It’s endearing, how Shintaro lingered when he knew everything was star-crossed from the very start. Shintaro held on with bated breath, crossing his fingers, hoping and praying that for once, he could defy the very fates that he lived by. You don't remember when he got so close to god, nor do you remember when he stopped wishing upon shooting stars. 

Once upon a time, the stars were law and Shintaro never dared to disobey. He has always been so obedient. But a boy with talents as spectacular and ever expanding as the universe itself deserved more than ill fates determined by gaseous nebulas that have been dead for years. One day he will fall out of love with the stars.

For now, Shintaro looks at you as if you are the stars in the night sky. Shintaro has become addicted to cutting his fingers on your shards, and you say nothing as his bandages come undone. He sees you breaking apart the way nebulas crumble, and he's fallen in love with destruction and tragedy. You are in love with it too. 

Kisses flutter down your sternum as he says that you remind him of the flames that illuminate surfaces of his favorite stars. His digits ghost over your iliac crest in exploration of every dip and curve of your body, as if he has not already memorized each one like his favorite map of constellations. He tells you that, like his favorite stars, you will one day be reborn from your ashes, and when the day comes, he will love you no less. Time and time again, Shintaro repeats that he has fallen in love with the brightest star in the sky, and you warn him of the dangers of flying too close to the sun. You tell him that if he falls in love with the sun, he will have to learn to love the sea as well.  It didn't seem fitting for a boy so in love with the stars to sink in the depths of the ocean where moonlight no longer exists. In spite of your forewarnings, he shrugs. He kisses you, and he tells you he doesn't care. He kisses you again. He burns. You drown.

You don't remember when he fell so far from grace, nor do you remember his lips tasting like dust. One day, you will bring him home and immortalize him in the sky where he belongs. But that day is further away than the very constellations he committed to memory in the marrows of his bones and traced in the curve of your spine. 

Loneliness has been plaguing him since your rebirth. He tells you that he can only wait so long before it swallows him whole. It seems appropriate. You submerged yourself in the pools of absinthe that are his eyes long ago. Every so often, the absinthe leaks, and wetness streaks down his cheeks as he begs again and again for Sagittarius the Archer to come home. You tell him you are home. You’ve been home. You’ve never left home.

The absinthe pours. It spills between your fingers. 

Shintaro looks at you as if you are the stars in the night sky. 

You tell Shintaro that you would like to die by his hands. 

He looks at you as if you've been dead for years.

Sins

i. Luxuria (lechery/lust): an intense and uncontrolled desire.

What you feel when Shintaro's kisses grace your collarbones and throat. His lips caress arteries and veins as if they are made of glass. You trust him to mouth at your flesh, and you are not afraid that he will tear arteries and leave you for dead. Legs tangle, tongues wrestle, and you are both in a hurry to feel alive. Even after you finish, you want to go again. He does too. You can tell by the way that his legs tremble like that of a newborn fawn. When he is like this, like a fawn, he cannot run, and he is yours, yours, yours.

ii. Gula (gluttony): the overindulgence and overconsumption of anything to the point of waste. To gulp down or swallow.

What you feel when you want every breath he exhales. One day you would like to swallow Shintaro whole. The fear of being alone is crippling, and you cannot imagine him slipping from your grasp. The leash you keep on him can only be tightened so much more before he suffocates. It is not a choice, whether you can have him or not. You cannot live without him. He sustains you, and you sustain him. To drink his blood would be a privilege. He will be a part of you until the day you die. 

iii. Avaritia (avarice/greed): a sin of excess. Greed is applied to a very excessive or rapacious desire and pursuit of material possessions.

What you feel when Shintaro looks at you with glassy eyes and he mouths silent questions of where you have gone and when you will return. His attempts at bribery break you, and in turn, he offers you his heart, pulsing, throbbing and bleeding out into the palms of his hands. You want his heart. You want his mind. You want every part of Shintaro, regardless of whether or not he has anything to offer. He gives himself over to you again and again, and every time, he makes you see stars. They're ugly and they tell you that there is nothing to be salvaged.

iv. Acedia (sloth/discouragement): failing to develop spiritually will lead to becoming guilty of sloth. Sloth rejects grace and god.

What you feel when Shintaro tells you that he is tired. It's morning. It's quiet. He's warm, and he's awake. You can only tell by the shallow, shaky breaths. You are exhausted as well, but you know to bite your tongue. It's afternoon. He tells you that he wants to run, to disappear, to leave town and never, ever look back. It's evening, and all you hear are his breaths, moans, and quiet whimpers of your name. You know you are in too deep and it hurts. Not when he pulls on your hair or when his blunt teeth and nails leave grooves and imperfections in what was once porcelain, but when he whispers that he can't run, disappear, or leave town and never, ever look back without you. 

v. Ira (wrath): also known as "rage", may be inordinate and uncontrolled feelings of hatred and anger. Presents with self-destructiveness.

What you feel when you kill Shintaro from the inside out. Beneath your fingertips, you can feel his pulse and what keeps him alive. He gasps with each tear, and you feel how his lips tremble against your cheekbones. You do not hate him, but when he treats you as if you are broken, you would like to break him as well. You do this to remind yourself that you are in fact alive and he is too. Never has he asked you to stop, and sometimes, you wonder if he would mind if one day you cut too deep. You don't want to find out.

vi. Invidia (envy): similar to jealousy in that it feels discontent towards someone's traits, status, abilities or rewards.

What you feel when Shintaro gives up on you and finds someone else. You knew that one day you would not be able to keep him wrapped around your finger. He develops skills you cannot imagine or recreate, but he will not leave you behind because he cannot leave you behind. Without you, he will crumble. Without him, you will drown. You've created a home beneath his skin and in the crevices between his ribs. He keeps you warm. In return, you dig your teeth into his innermost fears and desires. 

vii. Superbia (pride/hubris): the original and most serious of the sins. The belief that one is essentially better than others.

What you hope to feel one day when you are walking hand in hand with Shintaro. You are afraid to say that you love him, but he is all you have and you are proud of it. He is beautiful, with pastures of emeralds for eyes and the sun-kissed complexion of Icarus. Like Icarus, he embraced you; the sun, and you both paid the price. You hope that when the time comes, he will feel the same. You look forward to the day when he will cup your jaw and kiss you as if you are the most incredible, beautiful sinner he has met in his life.

Imaginary

"Who are you talking to?" 

Kuroko asks the same question a dozen times a day, and Akashi scoffs every time. It's terribly uncharacteristic of Kuroko to ask a something with such an obvious answer. Kuroko isn't stupid by any means, but as of late, the look of genuine concern and curiosity practically seeps from his pores. 

"Tetsuya," Akashi chuckles and shakes his head. Midorima laughs as well and makes a snide comment on how Teiko's precious shadow has gone blind in the presence of the very light that brought him into existence to begin with. "Isn't it obvious? Who does it look like I'm talking to?" Though, now that he thought about it, he couldn't quite place his finger on what he and Midorima had been speaking about before they were so rudely interrupted by Kuroko. Something about basketball, something about who would play the primo during their regularly scheduled duets when they should have been on their lunch break, or something about where they would rendezvous next to play shogi before practice. 

Or maybe it was something about how Midorima was never put on the court, how he always played the secondo, how each move he made in a game of shogi was so predictable, that it was almost as if he were playing against himself. 

The sigh that Kuroko attempts to bite back goes far from unnoticed, and Akashi presses his lips into a frown. Every so often his teammates--Kuroko especially--would look at him with an expression so full of concern that it made him sick. 'There's no one there, Akashi. Akashi-kun. Akashicchi. Aka-chin.'  They have to be blind, ignorant or both to not see the boy always standing just a few steps behind him--never in front. Either way, it's their loss. They don't deserve to rest their eyes rest on someone so breathtaking. 

In the back of his mind, Akashi wishes they would at least acknowledge Midorima's talent. Every game he would grit his teeth and bite during the fourth quarter when the coach refused again and again to put Midorima out on the court. Akashi would argue until his lungs ached, and that point was when the coach would switch him out and make him sit on the bench beside Midorima. His teammates don't deserve Midorima, but Midorima doesn't deserve their silence. 

"Akashi-kun," Kuroko sounds terribly tired, and Akashi isn't quite sure why. Midorima says it's because he is beginning to fall behind, and that it is only a matter of time before the Generation of Miracles outgrew their shadow. "Are you feeling okay?"

That wasn't the question that Akashi had been anticipating, but it also wasn't one that he hadn't heard before. Akashi rolls his eyes. Midorima folds his arms across his chest. Kuroko shakes his head. Kuroko apparently always has too many questions to ask. 'Are you feeling okay? Who are you talking to? Who is Shintaro? Do you enjoy basketball? Who are you?'

"Of course." If anything, he felt better than he had in years. "Maybe, Tetsuya, you ought to worry less for me and more for yourself." He never felt alive until Midorima cupped his jaw on the day that red roses hardened into deep amber and whispered that his eyes look stunning. Through the amber, Akashi had the luxury of seeing a boy staring back at him with love and adoration instead of pity and fear. No amount of convincing would make Kuroko believe, not when he already turned on his heel and walked away in defeat.

"I'm sorry, Shintarou." Akashi grumbles and Midorima curls a finger underneath his chin to tip his head back. When he's looking up at Midorima, he could easily forget how his teammates tried desperately to tether him to a reality with no eyes and good fortune comparable to a four-leaf clover. 

"There's nothing to apologize for." Bandaged fingers caress his cheek, and Akashi leans into the touch. Touches like that were proof alone that Midorima existed. "I don't care for them." Akashi wishes he could say the same.

Akashi pushes himself up onto his toes, and Midorima holds him gently by the waist. They meet one another in the middle to press their lips together, and Akashi knew for a fact in that moment that he could survive off of Midorima's kisses alone. It’s just a shame that he tasted like nothing but air.

[bbarfs]

Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Midorima Shintaro/Akashi Seijuro Rating: M

There’s a shogi piece he always carries in the breast pocket of his coat, and Midorima swears he can feel it cutting into his chest. It weighs a ton; it’s the cross he bears. It’s a bishop, and it reminds him of who he once worshiped.

“You wanna talk about it?” “There is nothing to talk about.” “You did the right thing, y’know. He wasn’t gonna get any better.” “Takao." “I mean, he was kinda bad for you.”

Takao is right. He hates that Takao is always right. He hates Takao, he hates Akashi, and he hates himself the most. There were too many sleepless nights spent thinking about how if he were just a little stronger and just a little more persistent, Takao would be wrong and Akashi would be here. Akashi would be here and wouldn’t be someone to be hung up on.

A/N: actual doctor midorima is too good to pass up