[sungie]

drew. 21. she/her. ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

masterlist ll carrd

last updated: 3/29/23

-> scaramouche drabble (genshin)

-> rooming with cater diamond (twst)

-> giving them flowers (tokrev)

[mydearava]

[sungie]

guys i just got my heartbrkoen pls can u give me a sympathy like

[sungie]

LYNEY X READER : FIREWORKS BY SEA

a shallow wave ripples over your shoes. you’re wearing wet socks and denim rolled up to your knees in mid july.

it smells like salt—and maybe smoke if you think too hard—and in the back of your ear, lyney’s teasing that his magic tricks are better than this spectacle by far.

after all, he’d give you your own fireworks over the sea any day. if you’d only just say you love him. 

to you, lyney’s predictable. he's always splashing water onto you, then darting just out of reach. but you know exactly where he is. 

“i told you i’m not gonna,” you say.

those aren’t quite the words he wants—but he’s laughing anyway as you grab him by the wrist and throw him into the wave carving into the shore. your eyes never leave the horizon.

fireworks burst over the water. quiet inhale. a delayed boom reverberates through your chest. 

you don’t need visual confirmation to know lyney’s eyes dance with amusement. and there’s always something else—at least, he’s always been like that with you—something else within his eyes that pleads for you to look, glance over, dive head over heels into some murky space neither of you knows where. 

would you? you don’t like to think about it. you never do. 

you can sense lyney smiling to himself in mirth as he shakes his head, wringing out the hem of his shirt. it’ll dry stiff and salty in a half-hour. “you’re impossible. why won’t you look at me?” 

“i don’t know what you mean.” you say it with a bright smile. and there’s a lingering taste of melon syrup when you run your tongue along your teeth. lies like melon syrup. sticky melon shaved ice. a little crunchy. 

and well, you know exactly what he means. your teeth feel a little cold if you think about it. 

a singular firework shoots up—at this point it looks more like a shooting star. like a flying fish. you’d wish on it if you had something you wanted. in the back of your mind you know lyney will, maybe for something like, love me love me love me. 

you hold your breath as you wait for the crash. it doesn’t explode. rather showers into gold and falls into the sea. fish flopping back into water. and maybe that’s a little fitting, for the two of you. a love that can be soft. a love, maybe not all there. 

“okay. but you know i’d do it,” lyney says. right now, he’s not really talking about the eye contact. more so something the two of you’ve been dancing around for years.

this firework fades out behind a cloud of smoke. you think the boat should stop sending out low fireworks. higher ones are better.

and it hurts to feel lyney’s eyes trained on yours. he’s not looking at the sky where it matters. “if you asked me to,” lyney continues, his voice growing firm, “i’d be yours forever.” 

when he says it again, his eyes feel soft. “so ask me.” 

you're not looking. but you know exactly how he looks. you feel it. you hate when he gets like this. it makes your heart wince. 

“i’ll do it,” is what you decide on. and you think it’s a little cruel, the way lyney brightens at your words. “but you know you can’t.”

lyney laughs. maybe he’s a little stung by the implication—you remember him poking at washed up sea jellies with sticks. or maybe it’s all in your head. with him, you can never tell.

“maybe not,” he says. and he’s probably shrugging, that little half-shoulder one he does. with that loose grin tugging at his lips. the one that makes his eyes glow warm. “but you never know.”

a burst of color saves you from response. the ship shoots up firework after firework. the dark sea glows red. illuminates the black waters. 

like, sure. you’d let lyney love you. 

because he likes to say things like that. after all, you love that. things like, you’re not like anyone i’ve ever met. i’ll choose you forever. i’ll be sad when you leave fontaine. when are you leaving? well, it doesn’t matter. i’ll visit you wherever home is. 

but that’s where it gets tricky. because lyney also likes to fall out of love whenever he feels like it. and whenever he feels like it is pretty damn often. 

there’s a flash of color. you sense it before it happens. he’s dragging you by the hand, pulling you forward into the shallow wave starting to recede into the sea.

boom, boom, boom—and you can feel it in the sand sinking beneath your feet. in your chest when you point to an anemo shaped firework and lyney is gazing at you with a bemused look on his face, nodding along like you’ve just done something adorable. in your heart when he wraps his arms around your shoulders and half-lifts you as another wave slowly swallows the shore.

“put me down,” you laugh, half screeching as you swat at his shoulder. 

lyney obliges for a quick second, allowing your untied shoe-laces to dip into the water pooling across the sand. the dampness of your socks isn’t so bad. more refreshing. “if you say so.”

“no don’t you dare—“

he’s quick to laugh, a teasing smile twisting at his eyes. “then hold on to me like you mean it.” lyney smiles most with his eyes, is what you think. and you’re looking at him now, looking at him with wide eyes and lips twisted into a grin. 

you always thought it’d be nice to make out beneath the fireworks. something casual. a quick kiss and dip. he’d be a nice person to make out with. you wouldn’t mind. 

instead, you’re feeling a little exposed beneath the pyrotechnics—a little like you’re offering lyney a feel of your heart as you hang your arms loosely over his shoulders.

“that’s not like you mean it,” lyney says, and his voice is quietly amused. “you know, for being so straightforward all the time, you’re not so honest.”

“do you want me to be?” you say, and you’re gazing at him with an amused look on your face. “you’ll freak out. you’re not that honest either.”  

lyney looks the most serious he’s ever been. “you know why. you’ll get bored.” 

“not if it’s you.” it’s more of an inside joke between the two of you. “you never bore me.” 

you’re interrupted by the shower of fireworks. it’s a burst of gold that illuminates the whole sky. gold. shockwave. one after the other. for the first time, it’s lyney’s eyes that look at the horizon. it quirks your lips into a sort of smile, watching the pyrotechnics burst like dancing flame in his eyes.

and it’s like. you never really know the color of lyney’s eyes. someday they look gray, someday blue, someday a little violet. if that’s even possible. you always stumble over it. if you can’t remember something so simple about a guy, you must not really like him. it makes your heart twinge with bemusement. because tonight his eyes are gold.

“you’re missing it,” lyney says, and he reaches to gently tilt your chin up toward the sky. he’s holding you with one arm still, and your laces dip into the salt, and your socks are damp, and you can feel the hem of your sleeves dripping with water onto lyney’s shirt. 

“didn’t you want me to look at you?” you say. but you oblige for once, watching the fireworks burst in the sky. the waves recede back into the sea. whisper of awe as the finale leaves the horizon lit up with smoke.

lyney puts you down. your shoes sink into the shore. 

“not really,” he says. “i just said it.”  

you roll your eyes. your hands brush at the sand on your front, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips. there’s always a hollow sort of feeling when he does that. like someone’s blown all the air out of you. but it’s expected. he’s just like that.

“the fireworks were nice,” you say. “i’m glad we watched.” 

you feel like a conch shell. washed up. one that lyney picks up and blows a melancholic tune out of whenever he wants.

you think he feels a little bad.

"don't say it like that," lyney says. and he reaches for your hand, urging you closer. satisfied, he lets you go. out of sight from the groups of people behind you, he unfurls his palm.

a little red flame shoots up between you to burst into embers of flame. it glitters and shower over his skin, and when you reach out in fear, you realize there's a warmth when the fire sprinkles over him, not a burning sear.

you glance up, stunned. there's an amused flicker in lyney's eyes. like, oh, you do care.

"i told you," lyney says. and his eyes are mischievous. a little teasing. a little soft. he keeps his gaze trained on the secret fireworks bursting from his palm, like little sparklers couples do by the beach. "if you asked me to, i'll do anything."

[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am an observer, but not by choice.’

[text id: i often asked myself / do i want love / or do i want proof that i am loveable?]

[shoukohime]

this guy won't match your freak. he will break your heart in front of a kfc

[sungie]

who would u choose if u weee in a room with yuuta, atsumu , that one baseball guy or 707 mysmes

dunno who baseball guy is so definitely 797

[sungie]

who do u match me with in the hit anime haikyuu

asahi

[kitasuno]

to be loved is to be known | suna rintarou x reader

you're in love with suna. you think suna's in love with someone else. he's not.

slight angst, happy endings, and miscommunications atsumu is sexy reader is gn wc: 1481

It is dusk and warm and just barely humid when you realize you don’t know Suna Rintarou at all. 

You know that Suna likes chuupets and volleyball and his dingy digital camera with the cracked screen. His left eye twitches slightly when he lies, he always ties his right shoe before his left, and he keeps forgetting to buy pencil lead despite preferring mechanical pencils over traditional. He likes the rain. Can’t bite into ice cream. Wool scarves over fleece, seven followers on his private Twitter, and is always late because he likes feeding the stray cats in the alley next to the Family Mart with the good sausages. 

What you didn’t know is that Suna Rintarou is in love. You find out from Kita Shinsuke, who tells Aran after practice, a conversation not meant for your ears but gracing them nonetheless as you stand before the entrance to the gymnasium. You feel a dryness in your throat and a sting in your eyes as Kita shares that Suna is not only in love but had confessed to someone. Maybe it’s your divine punishment for eavesdropping. Maybe it’s rotten luck. Because, coincidentally, and horribly so, you’ve been in love with Suna Rintarou ever since you met him. 

So when Suna walks up from behind you, back from the vending machine, and asks you why you’re lingering outside and staring at Kita with that look on your face, you lie. 

“I have a crush on Shinsuke.” You blurt out. 

He blinks. Once. Twice. And stares. 

The longer Suna stares at you under the grey, purplish-pinkish sky with his hands shoved into his pockets and his left eye twitching, you realize you don’t know him at all. Because Suna, in all his indifference and nonchalance, looks hurt. You see something flit beneath his eyes, but you’ve never been good at reading people. So you settle on the idea that it’s something less than betrayal but more than indifference, and you don’t know why your heart’s beating so fast and sinking, pitter pattering and twisting in your stomach. 

You feel sick. 

“You like Kita-san,” He says, and it comes out as a statement, not a question. He blinks a third time, and as the look in his eyes disappears as quickly as it came, you decide you much prefer the hurt or the discomfort or the something over the blank apathy that he’s looking you over with now. “You have a crush on Kita… Shinsuke.” He finishes, and you can’t hear the bitterness in his voice over the shrill of your heart. 

You’ve always liked Suna’s eyes but tonight you like the pavement more, and as you stare a hole into the concrete beneath you, you ignore how your feet are fidgeting and your palms are sweaty and how Rintarou is hovering over you. 

“Mhm,” You squeak, tearing your eyes from the asphalt with the cracks and an ugly pill-bug on the ground. As you look up to grey eyes and dark hair, you wish that loving Suna Rintarou was harder. 

“I’m, uh, I’m going to tell Shinsuke tomorrow.” You say, Shinsuke’s name foreign on your tongue compared to the warmth and honey that Rintarou’s tastes like. I’m in love with you and this is a bad idea, you think. I like you, not Kita, is what you don’t say. Instead, and arguably worse, is the mention of Miya Atsumu’s name. “Atsumu gave me the confidence to confess!” 

Suna pauses. 

“Atsumu told you to?” He asks, and it’s the most bewildered you’ve heard him in a while.

A glance at his phone. Hands that emerge from his pockets. If you weren’t so preoccupied with the concrete you would have seen the twitch of his fingers and the tightening of his jaw as he opens Line. You nod dimly. 

“Okay,” is what he says, and you feel your heart in your stomach again. You look up. “Okay.” He repeats again. 

And maybe it’s the hurt that stings in your chest from Rintarou being so okay with you (hypothetically) being in love with Kita Shinsuke that pushes your eyes to water and your mouth to open. 

“Is that it?” You ask. 

A beat of silence. And then, a scoff. 

“Yeah. Congratulations,” Suna says. “Good luck.” 

As dusk turns to nightfall and what was a barely-humid night in July is now overwhelmingly warm and sickly and hot, Rintarou’s gaze is overbearing. And when your eyes start to swim and Suna’s gaze turns to confusion and then realization, you do the only thing you know how to do. You bolt. 

An incessant string of dings. Your lip wobbles under your teeth as you pull out your phone from under your covers. 

from: miya osamu (21:03)  where the fuck did ya go  and whys suna blwoin up my phone

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:03)  WHYYSS SUNARIN BLOWING UOA PP MY PHONE ??!?@@>>!?>??!??! WHYS HE SAYIN U LIKE KITA-SAN

from: you (21:05) its so over i ran home

from: you (21:05)  i told him i like shinsuke and that i am confessing to kita  tomorrow

amazing perfect miya atsexy and miya osamu are typing…

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:06)  WHAT

from: miya osamu (21:06) r u fuckin stupid why would ya do that

from: you (21:07) i heard shinsuke tell aran that suna confessed to someone today and then rin came back so i told him i like kita bcuz i panicked and also he cant know i like him right as he’s ginna get BAGGED wait but idk if he got rejected or not WHO AM I KIDDING suna would NOT get rejected LOLOL but anyways i think he knows i like him bcuz i started cryig and then he had this look on his face like he knew i was bullshittin him now venmo me money before i kil msyelf 

from: miya osamu (21:12) yeah he was gonna confess to YOU today

from: you (21:12) ?

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:12) HOLY MISCOMMUNICATION

from: you (21:18) Wht??

from: miya osamu (21:19) suna was supposed to confess to u today 

from: you (21:21) but shinsuke said rin already confessed

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:22) why wiud u ever think about takin gossip from KITA SHINSUKE AN WHYD YA BRING ME UP IM GNNA BE STONED AT DAWN

from: miya osamu (21:22) HOORAY !

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:22) SHUDDUP  

You bolt, again, but this time it’s out of your bed, down a flight of stairs, and through your front door. You’re halfway down the street near the Family Mart with the Good Sausages™ when you barrell into someone who smells faintly of blackberries and Suna’s laundry detergent. 

“Excuse me,” You blurt, scrambling away, until you feel a grip on your waist and a familiar shape behind you with a familiar smell and a familiar voice, and Ohmygod, you’re out of breath and close to frantic but Suna Rintarou is holding you steady by your waist, warm and tall and here. 

“Rintar-”

“I like you.”

You feel it more than you hear it- Suna is muffled and quiet as he mumbles into the back of your shoulder, tall frame folded into you. 

“Idiot.” He adds, and you don’t have to turn to know the tips of his ears are pink and his eyebrows are furrowed. “You’re an idiot.” 

It’s twilight, and just-barely humid when you realize that Suna Rintarou knows you. 

Suna knows that you ramble when you’re nervous. He knows that you like the rain and you don’t like humidity. You carry extra lead in your pencil pouch and you like volleyball and stray cats. You can bite into your ice cream. You color coordinate your bookshelves. You don’t have a crush on Kita Shinsuke. 

You don’t know that Suna keeps his digital camera with the shitty cracks because you bought it for him from a shop in Akihabara. You don’t know that Suna leaves his packs of pencil lead at home because leaning over your desk in class and seeing that smile on your face is far more fun. You don’t know that he writes with extra pressure on his worksheets to crack his lead and ask for more. 

You didn’t know that Suna Rintarou is in love with you. 

So he grins into your shoulder and tells you.  

amazing perfect miya atsexy (22:14) 1 Attachment GROSS!!!!!! do NOT start making out at practice or i will RESIGN !!!

sunarin (22:14) @ y/n lets start making out at practice

y/n, miya osamu, and 2 others reacted with Thumbs Up! ojiro aran, amazing perfect miya atsexy reacted with Thumbs Down!

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (22:15)  @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE 

sunarin has removed amazing perfect miya atsexy from the Inarizaki Volleyball Team Chat. 

[sungie]

OHMYFUCKING GOD WHAT THE HELL WHAT THE HELL

i just ran out of tags . THE DETAILS IN HERE ARE SO SO SO DIVINE AND IM. like this is ur suna. i love ur suna

ALSO UR DIALOGUE IS ALWAYS SUCH A TREAT. U GET IT SO WELL. ITS SO HUMAN AND SO NATURAL. ABD THE TEXTS SPRINKLED IN TO ADD HUMOR AND THAT YOUTHFULNESS IS SO SO SO GOOD

[pen-observing]

og om barbatos: prim, proper, ghost like, quiet, torture fan

nightbringer barbatos: spicy, guilty, ready to hurl solomon to the deepest depths of suffering, will tear down your house

[saintshigaraki]

yuuta is a certified FREAK in love

[saintshigaraki]

LIV !!!!!!

[dulcesiabits]

BLLK boys react to you breaking up with them and getting with a different boy:

Isagi Yoichi: genuinely wishes the best for you and hopes you find happiness :) fantasizes about your boyfriend dying to keep himself sane

Itoshi Rin: gets arrested for trying to murder your new boyfriend in the streets

Michael Kaiser: pastes your new boyfriend's face to the goal so he can kick footballs at it and spends thirty minutes every morning with bloodshot eyes gripping the edge of his sink and repeating that he's better than whatever ugly dweeb you're dating right now

Alexis Ness: also gets arrested for trying to murder your new boyfriend in the streets

Nagi Seishiro: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (cozy in bed)

Mikage Reo: sends you 100 voice texts every night begging you to take him back and stays up all night to make 100 different actionable plans about how to make you love him again

Chigiri Hyoma: engages in slow psychological warfare to destroy your boyfriend's self-esteem, like making sure to put on the 20 step skincare and haircare rountine when he knows he's going to run into your boyfriend so he can flip his floral scented hair into your boyfriend's face and remind your boyfriend that he is NOTHING compared to chigiri

[sungie]

STOP I LAUGHED SO BAD THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING EVER PLEASE

[kitasuno]

after-shower hair-care | boyfriend!wriothesley x fem!reader

wriothesley blowdries your hair after you take a shower. (he's hopelessly in love with you).

(´• ω •`) ♡ the only fem pronoun in here is 'ma'am' <3

you sit between wriothesley’s knees, head slumping into his lap as he cards his fingers through your hair. the blow dryer is warm and so are his hands as he dries the damp strands, fingers gentle as he massages oil onto your scalp. you’re drifting in and out of sleep, stirring slightly when you feel his hands move to caress the curve of your cheek. 

“my turn, babe.”

you shuffle, turning to face him, vaguely noticing that he’s tied your hair up in a claw clip. 

“wrio…” you mumble, pressing your cheek against his thigh. “m’ tired. later.”

“nuh-uh,” he says, eyebrow raised. “i want my hair done too.” 

you wrap your arms around his waist, eyes shut. he smells like your peach body wash. 

“but you’re so comfy.” 

you can’t see the smile on wriothesley’s lips as he puts his arms on each of your shoulders and shakes. 

“wriothesley!” you exclaim, his laugh contagious as you brace your hands on his knees. slightly dizzy, you look up at him as his body shakes from laughter, eyes gleaming. his hair is still damp from the shower, a towel around his neck as he holds a blow dryer in his hands. it doesn’t help that he’s not wearing a shirt, either. “you-” 

a blast of hot air in your face. your mouth drops as wriothesley turns the blow dryer on max, turning the heat down after he remembers your complaints about how hot the blow dryer gets. 

“don’t go falling asleep on me, pretty.” he says, tilting your chin up. “or i’ll blow dry your cute face.”

“wrio-” 

he cuts your words off with his lips, ever so gentle as he kisses your complaints away. he pulls away and your dizziness is back. 

“i’m gonna get you back.” you pout, getting up to trade places with him on the bed. “i’ll show you what these fists taste like.” 

“yes, ma'am.” wriothesley salutes. you groan. 

“oh god.” you look down at him as he sits on the carpet between your legs, his legs crossed lazily as he bats his eyelashes up at you. he hands you the blow dryer. “you were into that, weren’t you!” 

“i’m into you.” wriothesley corrects. he’s incredibly smug. you hide behind your palm as you blush, biting the inside of your cheek as his hands gently remove any obstructions from your face. “let me see your pret-”

you turn the blow dryer on max. 

“oh, i like you.” wriothesley says in between his laughter, turning so that you can focus your attention on his hair. “love you, actually.” he corrects. 

“love you too.” you say, ruffling the black and gray strands of his hair. he places a kiss on your knee. you pause before kissing the crown of his head. 

you continue blow drying his hair, towling the strands occasionally. wriothesley’s thankful you’re so focused on his hair that you don’t notice how warm his face has gotten, nor his crimson red cheeks as he blushes into his palm.

[sungie]

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMYGOD ITS SO TENDER AND SWEET AND JUST THE BEST EVER YOU REALLY DO ALWAYS COME UP WITH THE BEST LITTLE SCENARIOS AND IM GEN KIKCKING MY FEET GIGGLIGN RN

[kitasuno]

3AM ; ex!wriothesley x fem!reader

(´• ω •`) | modern au where wriothesley is drunk. and your ex. so why is he at your dorm at 3AM?

skincare, cuddles, fluff, angst if you squint

clorinde 2:56 AM: back together with wriothesley already?

clorinde 2:56 AM: that was fast

you 2:57 AM: WDYM???!??!?!?!? im so over him

you 2:57 AM: why? 

clorinde is typing… 

you 2:58 AM: don’t tell me… he’s at the door again?

clorinde 3:00 AM: yep. said he’s here for his girlfriend

you 3:01 AM: DONT LET HIM IN

clorinde reacted with Whoops!

you 3:02 AM: tell him im almost home…

wriothesley is drunk. he’s slumped on your pink fuzzy toilet cover, eyes fluttering closed as you lean in the bathroom doorway. 

“didn’t we break up?” you ask, laughing at the way he perks up at your voice, his hands encircling your waist as you step in between his legs. 

“somethin’ like that,” he slurs, fingers curling around your waist, “but you always do my skincare before bed.”

you brush his hair out of his eyes, pinning his bangs back with a sparkly kuromi clip, ignoring the way he melts into your touch. you bite your lip and sigh as you wipe his face with a damp washcloth. his pretty blue eyes bore into yours as he scans your features. 

“haven’t seen you in a week. why didn’t you respond to my texts?” he asks, cocking his head.

“hold still, wriothesl-”

“wrio.” he interrupts, grip tightening around your waist. “it’s wrio to you.”

you laugh, tilting his chin up, nails grazing against his neck as he complains about ‘those damn acrylics’. 

“okay, wrio,” you smile, rubbing essence into his t-zone. “isn’t that a nickname reserved for girlfriends only?” 

a beat of silence. he looks confused. “you are my girlfriend?”

you tap his bottom lip and he puckers them obediently, eyebrows furrowed as you apply a thin coat of cherry chapstick. “nope,” you say, patting his cheeks. “you broke up with me last week.”

“why would i ever break up with you?” he asks incredulously, wincing as you apply cool lotion on his eye bags. they look darker than usual, you note, gentle with your touch as your fingers linger. 

“something about me distracting you from school,” you say. “you said you were too in love with me.” 

“i would never-” 

“listen, wrio,” you sigh, a finger on his lips as you silence him. “i don’t know. maybe you need some time away from me.”

wriothesley bites at your finger in retaliation and you yelp in surprise. 

“ow! motherfucker,” you mutter, flicking his chin. “some ex you are.” 

wriothesley ignores you, standing up from his position on your pink toilet. he’s sobered up now. “boyfriend,” he corrects, towering over you as you squint up at him. 

“you broke up with me.”

he bends down to press his forehead to the crevice of your neck, mumbling into your chest. “then will you be my girlfriend?” 

“you’re drunk.” you reply, hands reaching up to play with his hair. “we’ll talk about this tomorrow, wriothesley.”

“it’s wrio,” he whines again. “be my girlfriend.” 

“tomorrow,” you sigh, shuffling the two of you over to your twin bed. “we’ll talk tomorrow.” 

“will you say yes tomorrow?” he asks, curling into your side as you crawl under the blankets. 

“maybe.” you mutter. 

“not sleeping until you say yes.” 

you laugh, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “okay. sure. yes.” 

he’s out like a light, snores light as you sigh into his hair. it’s not long until your eyes flutter shut as well. 

clorinde 10:08 AM : One Attachment

clorinde 10:09 AM : cute

clorinde 10:09 AM: back together?

you 10:10 AM: yep…

[sungie]

I LOVE LOVE THIS SO MUCH !! SO CUTE AND TENDER AND I FEEL SO WARM AND FLUFFY INSIDE HELLO ??? I MISSED UR WRITING OMGGGGGGG I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT!!

[kentophobic]

"do you believe in soulmates, suguru?"

geto is wrist-deep in a corpse. In the intestines of a corpse, actually, somewhere beneath the liver that you can barely see from your spot on the stool next to him, and it looks—disgusting. you pop another salt and vinegar chip in your mouth.

this was supposed to be your job, you'll admit it. a body rolled in just before eight and an autopsy had to be done, but you called dinnerbreak and dug your neatly-packed chips and sandwich combo out of your locker before you let anyone get the chance to protest.

so, geto is shrugging at you, digging around in some dead guy's guts, and you're eating dinner.

"i don't really believe in souls," he says, and you pause, chip between your lips.

"really?" you motion to your friend on the table. "not even this guy?"

and suguru shakes his head, "especially not this guy."

you roll the ethicality of this whole debate in your head for a minute before your original question pops back up.

"alright," you say. "but what about fate? y'know, some kinda bridge for people to know people."

"nope."

"destiny? predestination?"

"same thing," he murmurs, shifting his hand around with a little squelching sound. "it's circumstance, really."

you—if you're going to be honest—are a little bewildered. and not because you're not into the whole 'live and let live' thing, but because you can't imagine someone doing a job like this without having some kind of hope that things will be how they're meant to be. otherwise, it all just seems kind of depressing.

"so, you think you just wound up here because you wound up here?" you ask.

"yep."

"you think this guy just happened to end up like this?"

"that's what i said." he's barely listening.

suguru pulls something out of the hole ripping through your john doe's ribs and you consider finishing your lunch in the breakroom for a minute. if you weren't so intrigued by the hypothetical half-conversation at hand, you probably would've slid your way out of the room and enjoyed the rest of your gutless dinner elsewhere.

but alas, you might be a little too invested in the longest exchange you and your coworker have ever had.

(impressive, truly.)

"so, say i quit my job tomorrow-"

"uh huh."

"and i disappear. it's all mysterious and whatever and no one ever sees me again, blah, blah, blah. but then one day i just wind up somewhere. found—appeared out of nowhere."

he glances back at you, raising a brow. "i'm not following."

"i'm gone in an instant, right? but then i'm back. my life changes completely, but—for some reason—for the better. it's happened before, hasn't it?"

"i suppose," he says.

"cool. great. what would you call that? coincidence?"

he sighs, a little heavily, pulling his arm out from whatever crevice he was exploring before peeling off a dark, red glove. it's almost black at this point, and you can't help but consider how crazy it all is—what death does to a person

"i think," he starts, "it's more a conglomeration of things."

you tilt your head a little.

"like—here—you wear those shoes to work every day. why?"

"they're my work shoes?" you stick your foot in the air, dangling it there a little. your sneakers are still white, but they've got a little give to them these days. grayish in the middle, a couple stained spots on the soles. "plus, i'm not sure heels would be the most practical shoe for this."

geto snorts, shaking his head. "but why those? why not black, or gray, or another kind entirely? why those ones."

you think for a moment, poking your tongue into your cheek.

"there's a scrub nurse who lives a couple doors down from me." a nice, older woman with a couple of kids about your age. she offered to help you move some of the boxes into your apartment when you were moving in. "when i told her i got this job, she told me about these."

"see," he grins. "that's what i mean."

you pull the last of your chips from the bag, crushing the little crumbs beneath your fingers. you think you're getting it.

"those—the chips. why those?"

"my brother's favorite. brand and all."

"so—they're your favorite too?"

"no," you say. "but they remind me of home sometimes."

a little smile tugs at suguru's lips and you're not quite sure whether it's out of joy at his own correctness or endearment. you decide it's the ladder for your own sake.

"you get what i'm saying now?"

"i think so. but maybe you should wrap it all up for me. just for fun, y'know."

he chuckles, and you think you're really nailing this whole 'getting to know your coworker' thing. you must be.

"if you disappeared tomorrow, there'd be a reason for it. someone told you to quit your job, or you saw some really crazy shit about faking your own death. you'd wind up where you do for the same reason. no fate, or destiny, or anything like that involved."

you want to reply with something witty or sly, but nothing really comes to mind. truly, you're more focused on the look on suguru's face: a deeply determined little thing that's just starting to crawl its way up to his eyes.

"that—makes sense. weirdly so."

he smiles, teeth poking out from behind his lips. "told you so."

"that doesn't mean i agree with you. i just—see your logic, that's all. "

"have dinner with me." he says, pausing a little afterward. "we can talk all about it."

he slides out of his stool then, sauntering his way towards the sink. he still has an eye on you; in a strange way, you can feel it.

"fine," you say, a little huff escaping your lips. "but only because i really love a good debate."

[sungie]

hihi drew i just wanted to pop by and wish u a good rest of your day <3 if your day is coming to an end, i hope you had a happy and fulfilling routine!

JANANI HI HI !! omg this is so late. IM SO SORRY but i'm sending u all my love this means the world to me! rn it's super late so i'm about to drink some peppermint tea and unwind + skincare before i go to bed heehee <333 i hope you've been taking care of yourself and are able to relax today mwah mwah

[hajimio]

iwaizumi’s mother will tell you he was born at night.

she’ll tell you he was born with the lingering scent of summer rain, and that’s why he’s always enjoyed the way it smells and begged to play in it as a child. she’ll tell you he was born in the midst of lightning bugs that he started to insist calling ‘fireflies’ at age seven, because he said that fire was cooler than lightning. she’ll tell you that he was born in the dimming lull of midnight, and that’s why he’s always been stubborn but warm—mellow but comforting.

iwaizumi’s mother will tell you a lot of things regarding her son and his birthday, and he’ll deny them all and roll his eyes and tell her mom, you’re being a little dramatic, until she swats the back of his head.

but the most important thing she’s told you, is that he didn’t breathe when he was born, and maybe that’s why she notices him holding his breath around you.

and you’d never noticed it much before, but it was on the eve of his twenty-second birthday that she told you, and now, on the day of it—amidst the air of dusk and the sweet memories of his childhood home—you’ve begun to see it a little more.

you’re both outside now, and the fireflies have begun to light up his yard, and there’s still a bit of smoke coming from the campfire iwaizumi set up earlier.

“so,” you say, at ten at night on iwaizumi’s birthday—twenty hours after his time of birth twenty-two years ago, “how does it feel?”

he laughs, in the gruff way that he always has, and pokes a stick at the fire.

“feels like i’m still nineteen.”

his mother would tell you that he’s still holding onto those teenage years. she’d say that he’s hardly ever going to let them go—that he still reminisces about parties at oikawa’s and driving with the windows down and the music too loud in makki’s beat up civic. she’d say that he’ll hold onto being a teenager until time passes him by, she’s sure.

you don’t know if you agree with that one.

“you look older than you did then.” he eyes you. “i meant the tattoo, and maybe the eyebrow slit.”

“it’s a scar,” he says, as he always does, and you laugh.

“sure, from a volleyball net.”

he leans over to swat at your arm, you lean into it and catch his hand in your own. his breath hitches. you remember his mother’s stories.

“maybe i was talking about the gray hair i found last year,” you begin, and you feel the way he tries to twist his hand from your grip at that one. you don’t give in—never have. “maybe you’ve gotten more since then, should we go check?”

“god, babe, shut up.”

maybe it started as pulling his arm away from you, but now he’s pulling you into him—taking your shitty lawn chair and all—to let your nose rest against his chest (and, perhaps more pertinently, to shut you up). 

you twist yourself in your chair and in his grip to face the fire and the lightning bugs, as his mother calls them, and his little sister, but never hajime. you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, can feel the breath as it moves through his lungs. 

and though he breathes easier now, it’s just as his poor mother said yesterday. he’ll fall victim to it all and his breath will hitch when you lean in—when you kiss his cheek, when you brush your hand over his shoulder in passing.

it’ll hitch when you’re looking at old photo albums, when you find a picture of him and oikawa catching bugs and you say he’s never changed. it’ll hitch in the dining room late in the evening, when you spend too long talking with his mother and she tells you how happy you’ve made her son. it’ll hitch when no one else is watching—when you whisper confessions like prayers into his skin, when you kiss him and say you love him simply because you can and it’s true. 

“i’ve never seen so many fireflies,” you say, and iwaizumi’s chest pauses.

it starts again.

“they’re common out here,” he replies. “used to put ‘em in jars as a kid. my sister always hated it. said i was hurting them or something.”

“they’re nice.” you turn, letting your eyes fall over his face as you narrow your gaze at him. “kinda remind me of you.”

he furrows his brows.

“dick.”

“i didn’t even say anything bad!” you reply, and you try to shove yourself off him and away from your chair, but he grabs you by the waist saying something about babe, babe, fire, don’t be stupid-

he pulls you back into him, and back onto your chair, and looks down at you.

“okay, so what did you mean?”

“i don’t know, they just-” you look back out at the fireflies, the way they float by the ground and leave little trails of light to follow them, and then you look back at your boyfriend—who’s holding back a smile and creasing his brows a bit, but who loves you. you know that. “i’m always gonna look at fireflies and think of you.”

and there’s a lot of things you don’t tell iwaizumi—a lot of things you may never tell him except in the written sentences of your vows, the ones you’ll paint in smudged pen ink and won’t ever say aloud.

one. you watch him from the windows of your apartment when he comes home from class, and that’s when you call him, that’s when you tell him you missed him too much to wait until he came through the door.

two. you’re awake for what he tells you when he thinks you’re asleep. you try not to listen, but he says your name like you’ve given him something more than just love, so you always tell him you love him first thing the next morning. to make up for it all. or to try to.

three. you loved him weeks before you told him.

but you will tell him this—that fireflies will always remind you of him. you will not tell him that you used to call them lightning bugs too, that you called them both as a kid, until the words mixed into lightningfly because lightning was cooler than fire, and flying was cooler than being a bug. 

but he won you over.

“guess i’ll just have to be there for all the fireflies, right?” iwaizumi says, and you decide that, one day, maybe you’ll tell him the third of your secret confessions. before your vows, if he’s lucky.

“guess so,” you reply. “can’t let myself miss you too much.”

“no,” iwaizumi says, and you’re sure you love him more now, at twenty-two, than you did yesterday. “no, you can’t.”

your breath steadies under his voice, and you realize that perhaps you get a little breathless beneath him, too—that maybe his dear, poor, and wonderful mother is right about some things and only half about others. or, and perhaps this is more correct, that when she tells you something about iwaizumi, she’s telling you something about you, too.

[sungie]

sav - when you first posted this i didn't read it but i still remember seeing your first line and just. knowing. even then that this piece would be gorgeous and rip me up. and now almost a year later i can say ITS EVEN BETTER THAN I COULDVE EVER IMAGINED?? god i just. the way you write your stories (all of them) but this one especially i just. the backstory is gorgeous. stunning. i've always had my finger on it but after taking a uni course and learning abt craft yadayada i just. like. you know i've always loved loved loved your writing (i hope you know that) but now i feel like i've never really put into words how truly amazing you write? if that makes sense? and i really need u to know how incredible this is. like the amount of LOVE and time and thoughtfulness and originality that goes into all ur pieces is insane. like actually crazy im going insane over how much i love this. and it's so easy to consume writing on here and move on but i feel like this piece really makes me pause and it's like. okay this is iwaizumi and he's your character and i never say that about anything but i need u to know that everytime i see iwaizumi i think sav. like u just go together. every piece you've written about him is so full of love and i just wow. the way you intertwine these characters like his mother and the way dialogue just flows so naturally i'm. in tears? the play on words with lightning bugs to fireflies to lightningflies is so clever and beautiful and. i'm in love with the way your style merges everything so naturally but poetically stunning at the same time. you distill feeling so WELL. and it's all perfectly placed and your dialogue is just GOD. SO. INCREDIBLE.