#i’m attaching here a bucket full of love and hugs

[ninacarstairss]

hello cece!

hope you are well, and i just wanted to say again how much i love your new tattoos, they look so cool

i had my first day of o-week today and it has possibly been the weirdest day. so i went to my information session, and then we had a one on one talk with lecturers with different majors and i ended up meeting two of my teachers for this semester (it was basically twenty minutes of being litnerds, it was so fun)

afterwards, i decided to take some of your advice and grab a cookie, but i didn’t realise it was a healthy one? it was a protein, plant based one, and it tastes like starchy oats :( even the chocolate chips are kinda wack (my fault for not checking the packaging)

AND THEN i was sitting down, minding my own business, tryna eat my fucking cookie, when two people from this christian group talk to me for like fifteen minutes about my degree and jesus and i was so overwhelmed that i just gave them my email so they would leave me alone. i cannot do small talk to save myself :(

anyways, that was my day. i’m about to go home now. i wish you all the hugs and cookies (the good, buttery kind with a coma-inducing amount of sugar)

<3

hi nero!! <33

thank you so much again!! i love them so so much, i’ve been wanting them for years and they mean so much to me!!

oh my god nero. that was a hell of a day for sure. i mean the twenty minutes of being total litnerds sound amazing!!! can i join next time?? my uni isn’t fun at all :( honestly i would love to just chat about literature for hours at orientation!! it would be so much better than sitting there listening to them read the exact same things they stated on the website of the course.

but then the cookie?? :,( i’m so glad you took my advice but it was a healthy horrible one?? no way.

i’m currently baking extra tasty, extra chocolatey cookies with a side of buttery cupcakes full of sugar and some more chocolate, to send to you. you deserve them after that oatsy cookie.

also sorry about that last part. i honestly hate small talk too and can never do that. i always end up doing the same thing, giving out my email just so i can make them leave before i start to cry. why are we like this?

anyway i’m fine! i spent a day trying to pack for my holiday and accomplished nothing. so i ended up searching for a place because i’m gonna have to move in september for a semester abroad, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of available places. i just hope i can find something in time :(

but then i made ice cream and that just made my day. it was so good!! i’m sending you some of that too. but just a heads up it’s gonna be melted because of the current 45 degrees (i’m melting too 24/7).

i’m wishing you tons of hugs too and hope you get to have tastier cookies now!! and how has uni been treating you after that weird first day? <3

[onewithnomightypowers]

Old Habits

pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

summary: Old habits come back when you meet an ex lover after a long time. Conversations feel like you never stopped talking to them. Sometimes you have to see them one last time to say goodbye like you mean it but most of the time it doesn’t go as planned.

warning: drinking

words: 2.1k

a/n: could be read as part 2 of last kiss but is a stand alone. got a bit poetic at the end. hope you guys like it. and as always, love reading your opinions/reactions. also asks are open. (gif not mine)

masterlist 

'@tomholland2013 posted a story'

'@tomholland2013 posted a story'

 She picked up her phone to open Instagram. Yes, Y/N still had notifications on for his account even after they were broken up for months. Classic Tom. 

 He posted two of the same picture on his story. No one understood how that would happen almost every time, not even the people working at Instagram to whom they contacted about the glitch.

 Tom had his hair slicked back, standing in a white t-shirt next to Harry, his brother, giving a million-dollar smile. They were holding a clapperboard together. There was text on the picture too, 'day 1 let's go!!' She smiled to herself. Just because they weren't together doesn't mean that she wasn't allowed to feel happy for his achievements. Even though she wishes to know all these big things from Tom himself she is, unfortunately, left here, watching a small part of his life flash in front of her for less than thirty seconds.

 "Are you listening?" Hope, Y/N's date said.

 "Yeah, I'm sorry. You were saying?" Y/N placed the phone back where it was resting, next to the cold wine bottle.

 "You seem distant," they said.

 When she 'met' Hope (she only really met them 30 minutes ago), Y/N wasn't looking for love, just sex, and that is what online dating specializes in. She hoped Hope knew what they were signing up for, sexual intimacy and nothing else.

 "It doesn't matter does, does it? We both know what we are here for. Why not just cut the chase," Y/N replied.

--

It was early in the morning, the sun had yet to shine in its full glory. Y/N could only think of the first time she stayed over at Tom's old apartment but then she turned her head only to find Hope's naked body next to her. Her heartbeat accelerated with the realization that he was not hers anymore. Being in a foreign environment didn't help her growing anxiety, twisting and turning her intestines.

 It's been four months, her feelings for Tom refuse to quit on her because she knows she could never quit on them, on him, even if he has. He probably has already found someone else in Canada, she thought. She didn't want him anymore but she still needed him, one last time just to teach her stupid heart how to say goodbye.

 Y/N wore her clothes and picked up her shoes, going on a trail to find Hope's door to get out before they wake up. Climbing down the stairs, she took out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

 '5 new messages from Sam' 7 hours ago

Sam: hey

Sam: ik it's late

Sam: I am going for a run tmr morning @6

Sam: do you wanna come?

Sam: will go to the new coffee house near my house after that

 Y/N texted him back

Y/N: I'll meet you at the coffee place

Sam: come fast. already here

--

Sam and Y/N were standing in the queue to place their orders. “You look especially shitty today,” Sam said, running his right hand through his sweaty hair.

“I haven’t been home yet,” Y/N reasoned her appearance.

 His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. The person in front of them left the queue, they moved towards the counter. “One hazelnut latte, double shot with skimmed milk,” Y/N gave her order.

 “And you?” the cashier’s question directed to Sam.

 “I’ll have a matcha latte with oat milk”

 Sam turned to Y/N, “Harrison got me on matcha, and now I can’t go back to coffee”

 They paid their dues and moved over to the barista counter to collect their order.

 “So, what were you doing last night?” Sam inquired.

 “I was on a date, it isn't a big deal though. Just had some needs to take care of”

 “Oh, was it any good?”

 “It was fine. I was distracted the whole time. Saw Tom’s story about halfway into the bottle of merlot. Couldn’t stop thinking about him”

 “Seems…sad. But you know Tom is coming back for the Christmas weekend, I think. He might attend Harrison’s Christmas eve party”

 “One hazelnut latte and one matcha latte,” someone behind the counter screamed.

 “That’s us,” Sam raised his voice.

--

Harrison had a bucket inside his house, under a sign that said 'drop your tracking devices here' with an arrow pointing to the bucket. Y/N dropped her phone on a pile of roughly fourteen others. Debating whether to see Tom's face was something she wanted or not made her late and not very fashionably.

 The house was decorated with empty liquor bottles along with red and green streamers from one wall to another. Everyone was drunk in their best dress. There were no signs of Tom yet. Y/N took a deep breath, walking towards the kitchen to get herself some liquid courage to help her socialize.

 The kitchen was rather scarcely populated. Empty glasses were lined up next to the sink. Are they clean or used? Bending down, Y/N opened the refrigerator to see if Harrison had any chilled wine. No luck. "Hey," a familiar voice was heard.

 She looked up at the familiar stranger.

 "Hey Tom," she smiled. The refrigerator light falling on Y/N made her blush visible.

She grabbed a half-cut lemon placed in the egg tray.

 “How have you been?" Tom asked leaning back on the kitchen counter, observing her movements.

 Y/N walked towards the sink to grab herself a crystal glass hoping for it to be clean. "Just busy with work these days"

 "I heard you got a job at Condé Nast, is that true?" he took a sip from his beer.

 "Well, you heard right. You are looking at their new senior brand manager for digital", she said proudly.

 Tom hugged her from the side she was holding a knife to cut the lemon for her gin and tonic. "That's great darling! You always wanted to work there"

 Darling. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering like the first time she met Tom.

 "I saw your story the other day. You started filming your script, right?" she dropped the lemon in the glass.  

 "Yup, it was a long time coming," he grabbed the knife she was using and washed it without even knowing. He was so used to Y/N never washing utensils after using them and, he would always have to clean up after her.

 "Congrats on that babe!" The word 'babe' just slipped out of practice.

 Y/N grabbed a Bombay Sapphire standing still on the marble slab. The blue of the bottle shinning even in the dim-lit room.

 "I missed you," Y/N made eye contact, screwing the cap back on. A long, silent pause.

 I miss you too, so very much

 She cleared her throat, "so, how long are you staying?"

 "Going back Monday morning"

 She opened a can of tonic water.

 "Are you seeing someone?" Tom asked.

 "Wouldn't you wanna know" a smirk on her face grew. "I've been out on few dates, nothing serious. What about you?"

 "Met this girl online, dated for a bit but, she wanted something I couldn't give to her"

 Y/N scoffed, "did she have a foot fetish or something?"

 "No, Y/N. She wanted love, not my feet" they both laughed.

 "On that topic..." Tom calmed himself, "...I was listening to this song a few weeks ago and, there was this line, 'the smell of your hair reminds me of her feet' and it made me think of you"

 "I reckon," she took a sip of her gin and tonic.

 "No, seriously, I really related to that line. No matter how many people I hook up with, it will be hard to find the type of intimacy I shared with you. I still relate to it"

 "I hate going on walks alone and having faceless dreams," Y/N blurted, lacking a proper reaction.

 "You're still the face of all my fantasies," Tom confessed.

 None of them knew what to say next. Anything they thought of saying now included walking over the blurry line of exes to lovers.

 "You look pretty"

 "Classic me, had a glow up after getting my heartbroken"

 "You always looked this pretty. You are beautiful," Tom assured her. The 'heartbroken part did not sit well with him. He already felt guilty for taking a job across the pond which was a great opportunity for him to grow but was only possible by severing his ties with Y/N.  

 --

It had just started snowing on Boxing Day. Tom was alone in his cold home, boiling a pot of ramen noodles. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the burning stove with the pot on top.

Tom: *attached photo*

Tom: I come back after months and my family leaves me alone with no food

Y/N: you should add a poached egg

Tom: Thanks. I shall.

Tom: I think I made too much ramen for me

Tom: do you wanna come over and share?

 Her indecision was visible by the coming and going of the gray dots. Then finally, Tom could tame his anxiety by her simple reply.

 Y/N: sure.

--

There was a loud knock on the door. Tom put two bowls of hot ramen on the dining table and went to open the door. Behind the door, Y/N was standing with her hands inside her brown checker coat. There was dust of snow sitting on her shoulders. Her braided hair was made by the most anxious hands in town.

 The door opened and, Tom’s hands flew to take Y/N in his arms. They hugged like little kids hug their parents after being away from each other, for them, an eternity. It did feel like an eternity to them too but, they hadn’t forgotten each other’s touch.

 “I parked my car at the church, couldn’t find any spot here ‘cause of the snow," she pulled out.

 “The snow seems to be gaining momentum.”

 Y/N hummed in agreement. She took off her coat and hung it in the Holland’s coat closet.

 “Come on, the ramen is getting cold,” she followed tom into the kitchen.

 They sat adjacent on the wooden table in comfortable silence. Tom used chopsticks and, Y/N used a fork. Only the occasional noodles falling in the broth were heard, along with the gushing of wind.

 “It’s really spicy for me,” Tom said.

 “Yeah, I can see your ears turning red.”

She still remembers 

 Y/N raised her hand to cover her mouth while yawning.

 “Since you made the food, I’ll do the dishes,” she got up, grabbed their bowls, and walked over to the sink.

 Wearing the gloves, she turned to Tom, “it was quite tasty”.

 Tom gave her a smile.

 She spread the soap on the dishes and turned the tap on. Tom pushed his chair back to get up.

 “Have you made any friends at your new job,” he jumped and sat on the counter next to Y/N.

 “Yeah, sort of. Kyara works there too so, I have just made her friends my friends,” she washed his chopsticks.

 “That’s good. Have you talked to Emily after the wedding? She told me they are planning on adopting.”

 “They invited me over for dinner when they got the approval from the agency. Kyara made this amazing Hyderabadi biryani, it was her mum’s recipe so, it was obviously better than the restaurant”

 “God! You and your love for Indian food”

 Y/N removed her gloves, “I should go. Thanks for the ramen, by the way”

 “Are you sure you can go out in this weather?”

 “Yeah I think," she started walking out of the kitchen.

 Tom grabbed her hand. “Stay”, his voice was like cotton.

 Y/N turned and made contact with his pleading eyes. She moved closer to him. “Please”, he said. They both were inching in to lock their desperate lips.

--

Y/N did not notice when she had fallen asleep talking to Tom. Their naked bodies were covered by the white comforter. Her eyes slowly opened to a boy with brown eyes and messy hair looking at her.

 “I like it when you sleep. I love watching you sleep”

 She chuckled. “That’s a bit creepy, don’t you think?” She had a sleepy voice.

 “You look so serene, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I could stare at you for eons”

 “But love, I'm only here till the snow settles,” she caressed his cheeks.

“Then the cold shall frost our limbs," he leaned in to kiss her.

tags: @elios-timotea​

[badapricot]

Lovely Writer: Special 1

This is a rough translation of the first Lovely Writer special. There are 8 in total and other side stories that the author compiled. I’ll try to post 1 a week since they do vary in length, and some are a lot lengthier than this one.

This special is from Nubsib’s POV and it’s about Nubsib remembering his feelings for Gene after seeing him on Facebook, and becoming fixated. Nubsib is 15 at the time and Gene is 20.

At that time, I was in the ninth grade.

Since middle school, my parents had sent me to study abroad with my brother. Because of the wealth of my family, this was never an inconvenience. But living alone in a place that wasn’t your home country required a lot of adjustment, mainly doing everything on your own. You had to learn things that you’ve never seen and known. 

This was one of the methods of teaching the sons of the Thanakitpaisan family.

It was their luck to have a son who was mature since childhood. It didn't take long for me to get used to the culture there, where I went to parties, attended sports clubs, worked a part-time job, and even had typical American teen sex. Being Asian did give me some advantages, when it came to distinguishing myself from the others.

I could only smile when talking to the many blonde women who bragged about our experiences in bed, amongst their group of friends. After some time, I felt differently about it.

"Sib.”

"Yes?" I leaned back on the sofa, and raised my head from his screen when I heard my name.

Neung came downstairs. He was wearing a thick gray cardigan with a scarf. "I’m going to go meet a friend. You're not going anywhere today, right? "

"Hmm."

"Okay, I might be coming back late. Please get my package when it arrives. You’re not going out with your girlfriend, right?”

"We broke up.”

"Huh?” Neung frowned. "You dumped another one? Again? You know, you don’t have the face of a womanizer.”

"…"

Neung opened the door of the house. For a moment, the cool outside air blew in, until the hot air from the heater disappeared. I didn’t care much about either, and stayed looking at my phone screen.

I’m not a womanizer.

It’s just that every time I got together with a girlfriend, something felt wrong. I knew I wasn’t in love with the first girl. The others, I didn’t like particularly much. Sometimes the girls didn’t like me much either, and only wanted a partner themselves, so we’d eventually separate.

It was true, that I was only in the ninth grade. But sex here was too normalized. It had become so normal that I’d become bored. When sex became so commonplace, all excitement was lost.

Mom: (send picture)

Mom: I’ve sent you Thai ingredients that should be delivered soon. They’ll be waiting for you.

Mom: Today, I went to see Aunt Run, do you still remember the house next door? Today is the Aunt's birthday. All of her sons have come home.

Mom: I saw it and I missed you and Neung.

I looked at the message that popped up, from the other side of the world. It was dark here, but over there it was probably in the middle of the day. It was time for them to eat.

Mom: Do you remember Gene? Gene and Jap are all grown up.

Gene?

After reading my mother’s message, it was natural to think of the past. I missed it. During my childhood I would run and play with him everyday, and just the same, Gene would play with me almost every day.

I still remembered “P’Gene” clearly after all these years.

We were five years apart. But we somehow became closer than me and my own brother. Since I moved out of the house, we never saw each other again. We didn’t have any more contact with each other.

When my mother talked about that time, I felt nostalgic.

I moved my finger to type to ask for a picture from my mother. In the end, I sent a simple sticker. I sat on the sofa in the living room for awhile before retiring to my bedroom to shower.

In my warm bedroom,  so different from the night air outside, I picked up my phone again. I went to Facebook to catch up with everything back home. My finger kept scrolling through my news feed, my face blank. I started to feel sleepy, but before I could fall asleep I saw a status.

I wasn’t friends with the person who posted. But I was friends with his mother, who was tagged in the photo.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture.

This year, my mother has lost another year, haha.

In the picture was a group of six people. The background was a wide garden and a long table. Both of my parents, and Auntie Run and Uncle Teep were there. But the one that most caught the eye was the man in the lower right corner.

The other person grinned until his eyes were crescents. His hands were raised, flashing a peace sign. His hand held a cake tray with a delicious golden egg. The corner of the mouth was stained with white cream, like he was teasing someone. He was smiling, which made his cheeks round and full.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him. For a second, there was a strange numbness in my fingertips and toes.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me who that was.

P’Gene.

He was still wearing a white uniform shirt. It had been many years since we’d met, if counted by age. Gene would have been in university for three years.

Usually, I was the kind of person who didn’t care about the people around me, or anyone else. But this time, I couldn't control my fingertips. I clicked onto Jap’s Facebook page.

Chasing him down, I found a status posted with the person I was looking for tagged.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture

My brother brought me to the movies. What kind of crazy alien movie is this? I might puke, but maybe you guys on Facebook will like it.

The post was from three days ago. One was a picture of a cinema ticket on the top floor of a department store in the heart of Bangkok and the other was of P’Gene in a T-shirt and jeans. He hugged a bucket of popcorn. His hand was holding a large glass of water, lifting it up to his lips and sucking. It was a funny candid photo that many of his friends on Facebook commented on to make fun of him.

...but for me, the only word that came to mind was “lovely”.

I didn’t know why I was doing this but I pressed “save that image”.

Jap Jarernpipat posted a picture

My stupid little brother, you make the whole house look bad.

They were in a garden in the corner of the house that felt familiar to me, but was a little fuzzy. They were in front of a flower bush that had been trimmed into a square. Gene was sitting down, with his butt on the ground. A blue hose fell next to him, the hose spraying in another direction. It made him wet all over soaking his shirt, the thin material clinging to his body.

Both of his arms were behind him, to support his body. Therefore, his shirt and body were stretched, so I could see two small nubs contrasted and poking through his white shirt.

My eyebrows furrowed together, and I frowned.

I cursed when my body immediately had a strong reaction, just from the one picture.

I pressed the comment section, when I saw the high number of comments.

Jiranon Jarernpipat: Jap stop posting pictures of other people.

(Reply) Jap Jarernpipat attached video clip.

I clicked play immediately.

"Ow, P’Jap!”

“Hahaha, why would you say you’ll help me water the plants? You can help if the grass is dead.”

“Can you turn off the water for me first? Why are you recording?”

P’Gene raised his white hand. He wiped the water from his face, and pushed himself off  the ground. His shirt clung to his body, so I could see everything. He had the voice of a man, but he was still so cute.

Finally, the clip ended.

There were still a lot of other videos that Jap posted pranking Gene, all of which stopped me from becoming bored. I saved all of them to my phone and computer. In the end, when more and more accumulated, I created a whole separate folder.

That night when I fell asleep, my brain was filled with pictures of the boy next door, who I hadn’t seen in years.

Another morning, days later, I woke up frowning, and I had to gently breathe out. I’d dreamt of P’Gene again. Since seeing that picture that night, there hadn’t been a day where I could go without seeing his face.

I knew Gene’s Facebook. But he didn’t update much, except to change his avatar or cover photo. But Jap’s Facebook page had tons of pictures of Gene. So I was still able to look at Gene’s pictures and progress in life everyday, like some kind of psychopath.

Even when I closed my eyes to sleep sometimes, I still saw his pictures.

I didn’t want to be this way, but I couldn’t control my subconscious.

I always saw Gene lying in my wide bed. He would smile at me, his cheeks soft and reddish. His hands would hold on to me, and his mouth would gently say, “Sib.”

It was a fantasy that any teenage boy would have. But it wasn’t a woman. Instead, it was the boy next door, who always loved and saw me as a brother.

I circled back to look at his pictures every day. In the end, the feeling accumulated like a huge mountain of snow.

I want to meet him in real life.

I want to hug him.

I want to smell him. 

I want to kiss his mouth. I want to do to him what I do in my dreams.

Since the day I saw his picture and until today, my thoughts and feelings had become more and more intense. So intense, that sometimes I was afraid of myself.

I’d already decided how I’d deal with this.

“Will you finish school here?” Neung had packed all his bags and was ready to go because he finished his studies. I leaned against the door frame, looking into his room.

“Actually, it’s nice here too, you know.”

"No, I'm going home."

“So you’ve changed your mind then?”

I nodded.

“Well, our house is nice and of course, our parents miss you too.”

"…"

"I'm not going to be here anymore, don't bring any women into the house...but you're not dating any girls lately. So it's fine."

I sent off my brother, who took a taxi straight to the airport to go back home to Thailand. Personally, I still had a year to complete my studies.

In the past, I had never thought or worried about how fast or slow time would pass. But now, I felt jealous of my brother.

Back at the house, I picked up the phone. I was still for a while. Maybe it was because Neung had returned to Thailand, but I felt like chasing pictures wasn’t enough anymore. My fingers moved before I could decide to send a message to someone.

Nubsib tanagijpaisarn: P'Jap.

Nubsib tanagijpaisarn: Do you remember me?

I wanted to talk to someone who could tell me everything about P’Gene. 

I wanted to learn everything about him.

[danny-chase]

hello! if you're still taking requests for your bthb card, could i request Insomnia with Dick Grayson?

Thanks for the request! In case anyone's wondering, requests are still open :D

Insomnia - Read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Titans (Comics), Nightwing (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Dick Grayson/Joseph Wilson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Characters: Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Barbara Gordon (implied), Donna Troy, Joseph Wilson, Jason Todd, Lilith Clay (briefly), Danny Chase (briefly), Lian Harper (briefly) Additional Tags: Emotional Whump, Dick Grayson Whump, Protective Roy Harper, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Kissing, POV Alternating, POV Dick Grayson, POV Roy Harper, Black Eye, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Sleep Deprivation, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Pancakes, IHOP Series: Part 7 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

An old friend comes to visit when Dick finds himself unable to fall asleep.

Full story under cut

Now: A doorbell sharply buzzed as Roy walked through the glass door, a half-asleep attendant perking up in front of him. The room was cramped, the flooring tacky, unkempt ancient wallpaper peeled at the seams. A bucket sat in the corner catching a steady drip of – what he hoped was – water.

The lady gave him an unimpressed look, her manicured nails clattering against the keys of a dusty old laptop. “You here for a parole meeting?” Roy rolled his eyes.

“Lady, do I look like I’m here for a parole meeting?” She shrugged, shuffling some papers. Her icy blue eyes lingered on his sling for a moment.

“Could have fooled me, you get in a fight?” Crossing her arms, she stared at him challengingly.

He widened his stance. “Nah I’m here for-”

“Robbie Malone.” A robotic voice chipped in his ear.

“Robbie Malone, you can charge bail to this card.” He finished, slipping an envelope out of his pocket.

Clacking away, she sliced open the envelope. “I’ll need proof of ID.” She continued, not giving him a second glance. He bristled, placing his left hand on the counter, flexing his muscles. The clattering sped up, growing louder as she determinedly focused on the screen. “Waiting room is over there.” She titled her head towards a dark hallway.

“Everything alright?” The earpiece buzzed. Dingy lights flickered as he made his way to the room. He sighed as he entered the room, finding a too-small uncomfortable looking chair.

“Peachy.” Leaning against the doorway, he rubbed his aching right arm, breathing deeply. Crossing the room, he took his place in the shitty chair. Tilting his head back, he stared at the off-white, water-stained ceiling.

How the hell did we get here?

Last Night: Dick aimlessly stared up, counting the holes in the safe-house’s ceiling tiles. If he counted one row and one column he could multiply them – but he kept messing up and starting over.

This wasn’t productive. He should be doing literally anything else. He was moping, this was pointless, he ought to-

Shit, I lost count.

He started over. In truth – he’d tried getting up but a weight in his chest pinned him to the spot. Stars danced above his head – mixing with the holes - but he couldn’t bring himself to care – he was just… so tired.

There’d been a human trafficking ring – it was gruesome sure, but he’d seen gruesome before - he’d been managing fine – then obsessed – he let this happen - this was his fault – Bruce would be disappointed – Babs too –

Fuck it, he didn’t care anymore. And he lost his count.

He felt awful – like his body was imploding. He needed a shower. Couldn’t remember the last time he ate. He hadn’t slept in five(?) – he wasn’t keeping track anymore but he didn’t even have an excuse not to sleep anymore.

He could sleep any time he wanted.

Yeah - he chose not to sleep…

Totally.

He closed his eyes. The case was over – that’s what was bothering him right? He could sleep now – he was fine – the kids were safe – everyone was safe – everyone was –

Don’t think about it.

His eyes shot open before he could see her face. His insides squirmed – he rolled over, picking himself off the floor, compelled to do something – he couldn’t patrol, Bruce had helped with cleanup and ordered him home – the thought of food was nauseating, that was out – he could clean… but he didn’t even know where to start – he could –

Someone knocked on the door… was he expecting someone? At… what time was it? It was dark out and the clock was too blurry to read. Another knock and he lost his train of thoughts.

Drawn forward, as if in a daze, he gripped the door-knob, twisting before even bothering to look through the peephole.

That’s how Barbara got shot. Bruce’s voice chided.

He grinned as he swung open the door, revealing a shining face. “Donna.” He nearly tripped over the doorstep, Donna laughing at his antics, spreading her arms wide.

“Good to see you, Boy Wonder. Heard you were having a rough night, I thought you might want to talk?” Dick nodded, already enveloping her in a tight hug, lost in the faint scent of coconut shampoo. “Let’s take a walk.”

Now: Roy sat, watching a clock across from him tick. His ass hurt – arm hurt – he hadn’t eaten breakfast. He was supposed to spend the day with Lian – but fuck – here he was cleaning up after the batboy. Dick owed him pancakes. With chocolate chips. Maybe eggs. Homecooked – like he used to make post-successful mission.

Who was he kidding?

He was sitting in a county jail waiting around for a friend he hadn’t talked to in nearly a month. They couldn’t just eat pancakes and magically fix everything. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to ignore the awkwardness of the situation.

It was a shame – Dick’s pancakes were amazing. Yeah. Pancakes…

Had the clock grown louder when he wasn’t watching?

He pulled out his phone, resolving to find the nearest IHop. If things were going to be awkward, he would at least have food to distract him. “You owe me a meal.” He whispered into the earpiece.

“There’s an iHop 5 minutes away. Turn left coming out and it’ll be on your right.”

“How did you-”

“I’m amazed you think I can’t get into your phone.” Showoff. He quietly whistled.

“Rob’s got friends in high places.” The voice was silent for a moment. It was the weirdest thing (albeit not the weirdest thing that had happened to him) – someone had just slipped an envelope and earpiece on his kitchen table – a letter O was written on an attached sticky note.

“You’d be right about that.” There was an unspoken rule in the superhero community – never turn down an assignment for Oracle.

Last Night: Metal squealed as he swung back and forth on a little swing set. “I miss this.” He pumped his legs forward. “We should do stupid shit more often.” He flipped off the swing – doing a perfect double flip before landing. “You see that?” He beamed, turning to face – “Donna?!”

“Yes, yes, you’re brilliant. The crowd goes wild.” She rolled her eyes, politely clapping. “But I came out to talk to youuu, and you haven’t even told me how you’re doing.” She swung her legs, keeping her swing impossibly still. Well. She was Donna – she was perfect – she could do things like that.

“I’m fine.” He solved the case after all – that was what had been keeping him up – he could sleep after this.

“Dick…” The corners of her mouth turned down, pulling at the strings of his heart as they went – Donna was perfect, he was having fun – things were fine.

“Don’t – please – I’m fine, I don’t want to fight right now.” His mouth went dry, his pulse speeding uncontrollably. “Could we just… keep hanging out on the swings? Like we used to?” His legs shook, knees threatening to give out. “Please?” He croaked.

“Okay.” She pulled out a camera, smiling. “Next time, I’ll take a picture.”

Now: This was taking forever. He impatiently tapped the side of the chair, staring at the blank wall ahead of him.

“I can play music.” The voice offered.

“How long is this going to take?” He groaned – his arm throbbed; he left his ibroufen at home. Fuck. His. Life.

“Maybe thirty more minutes.” Came the guess.

“I’ve been here forever.” He complained; he was starting to suspect the lady was purposefully taking her time.

“It’s only been one hour.” The voice deadpanned. “Quit whining or I’ll play country.” Roy sighed.

“You got Rob’s playlist?” Maybe it was silly, but listening to his friends’ playlists made him feel a bit closer to them. And dammit, he missed Dick.

“Mmmhmm.” If nothing else, Dick’s trash taste in music was better than country.

Last Night: He caught a glimpse of a familiar face walking towards the playground. His heart swelled, chest lifting as he leaped off the swing.

He fumbled the landing, recovering quickly – and running, he spread his arms open wide. “Joey?!” His feet pounded on the grass, and he launched himself into a flying hug, momentum accidentally carrying them both to the ground. Dick laughed, hugging Joe tight, hands racing through his golden curls.

Empathetic eyes found his, concern clear, swimming behind stunning green irises. It was as if Joey was looking in his soul – or rather - his heart. Joey started signing. ‘Are you-’

Dick cut him off. “I’m fine, can I just – have this?” Joey’s face softened, leaning forward. Dick closed the gap between them, cradling the back of his head in his hands. Their lips met, butterflies filling his stomach – he was on top of the world - completely invincible in the moment. He slipped a hand up, feeling Joey’s steady pulse, and moved down, adorning his neck with a kiss.

Joey tenderly pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. ‘Not here.’ He signed. They were in public – not that he cared.

“I love you.” Dick protested, standing, and pulling Joey to his feet. He kissed his hand, tugging him into another hug. “I should have told you sooner.” He whispered.

They stood, illuminated by moonlight – melding into one. Joey was soft and warm, and smelled of honeysuckle. He felt nineteen again, dumb and in love, with everything to lose – but everything to gain, spending reckless nights flirting and teasing. Donna cheered in the distance. It was breathtaking, he was happier than he’d felt in years.

Perfection was something he was always searching for – and this – right here – he’d finally found it.

Joey pulled back, signing again. ‘I love you too.’ He smiled softly, studying his face. ‘You haven’t been sleeping.’ Reaching out, he gently pushed back Dick’s bangs, leaning forward for a quick kiss before pulling away again. ‘You promised not to do this.’

Dick brushed off his worry, taking Joey by the hands. “I swear I’m fine – I feel better than I have in years now you’re both here.”

Someone laughed behind him. No. It can’t be. The laugh continued, tinkling like a little bell. Joey placed a hand on his shoulder, tears welling in his eyes as he turned.

“Jason?”

Now: “Rob?” Dick stepped into the little room, stonily staring at the floor. Stubble decorated his unshaven face, his left eye swelling – bruises blossoming across his face. The skin under both was dark and puffy, his eyes bloodshot. Roy rose to his feet - automatically rushing forward. The lady stepped between them, getting in his face and handing him a thousand papers to sign.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, he needs medical attention.” Roy bit back a scream. Dick crossed his arms, refusing to meet his eyes, as he tried to get a better look. His mouth was set in a taught line, as if determined to show no emotion.

“He refused. Sign the papers.” The lady spat, shoving a pen at him.

“You better fu-”

“Play nice!” Chided the voice in his ear. “Just sign the papers. I’ll pay for all the pancakes you can eat.”

“Excuse me?” Frost tinged the woman’s words. She turned on her heel, whipping her hair around – almost hitting his face as she stormed back to her desk.

“I’m signing the goddamn papers.” He aggressively clicked the pen open. Fuck this. He scribbled his signature as fast as he could, flying through the papers, throwing them each at the lady as he finished.

Dick remained silent, staring at the floor, standing completely still.

“What the fuck did you even do?” The woman sneered at him disapprovingly. He shoved the last paper at her, throwing the pen on the counter. Dick remained silent.

“They picked him up at 3rd street park this morning.” The voice supplied. “He’s charged with loitering and resisting arrest.”

Last Night: “It can’t…” He trailed off, looking at Jason’s grinning face.

“Sure it can.” Jason asserted, darting forward. “Tag!” His heart leaped, as he ran after. Laughing, Jason took the steps to the little castle two at a time, meeting Lilith at the top.

“Oh no, I don’t want to play.” She put her hands up. “Get Danny instead!” He turned, watching Danny wave from over by the fountain. He kept contorting the water into different shapes.

Dick grinned, running forward. “No way, I’m going for my baby brother!” Jason snorted, flaunting around on top of a slide. His smile was so wide – always so wide –

Robin gives me magic.

Dick doubled his speed, they should go for ice cream after this – just the two of them, like old times.

“Please, as if an old geezer could catch me.” Jason taunted, doing a cartwheel as Dick started climbing up a rock wall to the top. “Especially with the shape he’s in.”

“I’m in better shape than you!” He teased back.

“You really aren’t.” Donna’s face appeared at his side startling him, he found himself losing his grip – falling back off the rock wall. His shoulders hit woodchips, knocking the wind out of him. “If you were, that wouldn’t have happened.” She pointed out.

Dick couldn’t breathe – his lungs were frozen – he couldn’t –

Joey kneeled on his other side, helping him sit up. He wheezed, desperately sucking in air.

“See you can breathe.” Jason’s head popped out overtop the wall. “Must be nice.” He muttered.

“What -” he panted, “do you… mean?” A coughing fit overtook him. Donna slapped his back.

“Really?” Jason looked at him mournfully. “You’re being pathetic.”

“Jason!” Donna chided. “Quit reminding him we’re-”

“Don’t!” Dick sputtered, burying his chest in Joey’s shirt. It smelled like honeysuckle – honeysuckle and lilac. “Please!” This was all he had left. “Don’t take this from me. Please, Jason – PLEASE!” Broken fragments and shards of memories.

“Robin?” Tears spilled over into Joey’s shirt. His heart was bursting in his chest. Let him have this. Please. For just a moment more. Joey pushed him back slightly.

Jason popped up in front of him, looking at him accusingly. “I thought I was Robin.”

Now: “Dick, what happened to you?” Roy asked, rummaging through the trunk. No response. He looked up through the rear-view mirror. Dick stared out the window – looking at nothing at all. “Dick?” What the hell?

His hands closed around the first aid kid. He slammed the trunk walking back up to the front seat.

“How is he?” Roy nearly dropped the kit, anger overcoming him.

“How is he?! How is he?!” He flailed his arms. “That’s it! You fucking Bat people just keep pushing and pushing each other - tell Bruce he’s FUCKING OUT OF THE GAME – that’s all you fucking people care about isn’t it-”

“-Roy you don’t understand-”

“I UNDERSTAND JUST FINE!” A couple across the street stared at him. He shooed them off, putting his phone up to his ear belatedly as a cover.

“We love him too.” The voice insisted. “I only want what’s best for him. So does Bruce.”

“Then where the fuck is he? And why isn’t he the one bailing him out?” The line went silent for a moment.

“I said I wanted what’s best for him. Why do you think I sent you?” Roy found himself speechless – not a problem, the voice continued. “Wally was busy, and Garth is still in the hospital, and you should visit him by the way, Dick’s only been stopping by at night - they haven’t even talked! ROY! Don’t talk to me about understanding Dick Grayson, you aren’t the only person who gives a shit about him.”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. What the fuck was going on? “Does Bruce even know?” Another pause.

“No.”

“What do you want me to do?” Roy watched cars whiz past on the little town road.

Finally, the voice replied. “I don’t know.”

Last Night: A calloused hand rested on his shoulder. His fists still clenched Joey’s shirt, tears blurring his vision.

“Dick, aren’t you going to turn around?” Jason asked, squatting on the ground. Panic overtook him.

“I can’t.” He tucked his knees to his chest. She can’t see me like this. He was pathetic.

“Mm.” Donna hummed knowingly. “Why not?”

“You know.” Joey gently patted his back as he squeezed harder.

“I do.” She dropped down slipping an arm over Jason’s shoulders. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

“Why are you doing this?” He choked back a sob. “Can’t we just… talk on the swings – and Jason we can go out for ice cream you can meet Danny and Joey and Lilith can come and - ”

“Dick. Look at me.” Donna placed a hand on his shoulder, waiting until he met her eyes. “You know we can’t stay.”

“You can’t tell me you don’t know this is all in your head. You’re smarter than that.” Jason kicked wood chips without spraying any around. “We didn’t die so you could end up like this.” Joey tapped his shoulder.

‘What he means is, we love you and it hurts to see you like this.’

“Dick, if you won’t talk to us, could you talk to them.” Donna sadly smiled.

“I’m sorry.” He was a disappoint – a failure – it was his fault – his –

“Deep down you know I made a decision.” Donna stated. “And that I don’t regret it.” Dick jumped to his feet. “What do you mean you don’t regret it – you fucking DIED FOR ME, DONNA. HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!” He grabbed her by the front of her overalls, she just sadly smiled as he shook her. “YOU LEFT ME ALONE! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME – DONNA – HOW COULD YOU!?” She shrugged as he screamed, dropping to the ground. “It’s hard for you to look at me?! Try looking at your graves and knowing that you’re the reason you died!”

Joey placed a hand on his shoulder. Dick stared at him. “I’m so tired of being alive.” He confessed. Joey pulled him into a hug. “Just. Let me stay with you… please.” He breathed in, but the scent of honeysuckle was long gone - the warmth of Joey’s body fading. “Please?”

“Dickie.” He’d nearly forgotten the sound of his father’s voice. “You have someone to get back to.”

“Multiple someones.” Donna added.

“A new little Robin.” Jason noted. “Take care of him for me, okay?”

“Can’t you just stay?” Joey shook his head. The hand slipped off his shoulder.

“Sleep well, love. Take care of yourself. We love you.”

He turned, diving for a hug, finding nothing but empty air, as he skidded through woodchips, splinters tearing through his skin. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he screamed, clamping onto their wrist. No. No one was getting away this time. Just as he looked up, a blow finally sent him into darkness.

Now: “So… How are the pancakes?” Roy shoved another scoop into his own mouth. Dick poked at his plate without actually eating anything. “Hey, I bought those. You’re going to eat them.” Dick wistfully swirled a piece around in syrup. “Lian’s going to be jealous.” A spark of recognition passed through Dick’s eyes at the mention of her name.

Alright. New tactics then. Talk about his daughter. Oh, this would be easy. “She’s been getting math homework recently. Math homework! Can you believe it? She’s in first grade and this teacher is already giving out math!” He blundered through the conversation, Dick slowly looking up to make eye contact. “And it’s not the crap we learned as kids either. They want them to count a whole different way! I mean how on earth do you count differently.”

“Binary.” Dick suggested, Roy tried not to cringe at how rough and raw his voice sounded.

“So, you could help her with that, yeah?” Two birds, one stone. “She needs help and you’re the best math nerd I know.” Dick turned to stare mournfully out the window. “Finish your food, we’ll go back to my house, you can sleep, and I’ll bring home Lian, and when your brain’s working again you can help her with math, sound good - yeah?”

He probably failed to keep the panic out of his voice, but at this point he didn’t know what else to do if Dick said no. They weren’t kids anymore – he couldn’t force Dick to do anything he didn’t want to, or call in Bruce. It felt like he was teetering on the edge of losing another friend.

Now: He was hurting Roy – Roy’s smile was forced, his shoulders were tense, he was holding his fork too tight. Dick looked out the window, avoiding his gaze.

You have someone to get back too. Multiple someones.

Lian needed math help. Roy needed someone to talk to. Tim needed more training.

Donna could have helped Lian. Joey could have talked to Roy. And Jason should have been the one training.

They weren’t here anymore.

When are you going to face reality?

“Okay.”

He stabbed into a piece of pancake and stuffed it in his mouth. For the first time in days, he ate something that didn’t taste like ash.

Later: Roy flipped through channels, as casual conversation continued in the kitchen. “Okay so if you cut the pancake like this, it’s in thirds, so there are 3 pieces. Get it? Like halves but now there’s one more piece.” Dick had been trying to explain fractions for the past fifteen minutes.

“Mmmm, do I get to eat the pancake?” Lian giggled, smacking the table excitedly. Roy admired her ability to avoid talking about math, that – that was something she got from him.

Time had passed, Dick was rebounding – he always did, and Lian got a perfect score on her last test. Things were good.

For now…

One day, they wouldn’t bounce back – maybe he would die or Dick would shatter, but for tonight fractions were being taught with pancakes – and that wasn’t something he thought possible a week ago. And as Lian served him his piece, he painted on a smile because that’s all they could really do anymore – real smiles seemed to have died with Donna – but maybe if they kept surviving, they could go back to living.

Dick knowingly cocked an eyebrow and placed a hand on his shoulder, ducking down to whisper thanks in his ear, wrapping his arms around his neck, squeezing tighter than usual. Dick’s chin settled on his shoulder, warm puffs of air a constant reminder of his presence.

Tomorrow was unknown, but tonight Dick was alive and healing and Lian was smiling and squealing, and for him, that was enough.

[cno-inbminor]

immergo

a/n: i recently watched haikyuu and i’m absolutely hooked. to help get it out of my system in time for final papers and assignments, i’m procrastinating by writing this out. hope you enjoy!

featuring: oikawa tooru x fem!reader & some OC’s + iwaizumi

genre: best friends to lovers!au, angst, fluff, slooow burn, some cliches to make people suffer

summary: tooru is as constant as the stars and as real as the earth beneath your feet, yet even for you, he still manages to slip away. and when it’s all too late, only then does he attempt to come back.

word count: 21.9k (this is a monster)

playlist: i wanted to try making one so here's a playlist on spotify: immergo

edit: now crossposted onto AO3 here!

-

You are five years old when you first meet him.

He’s got a terrible bowl cut and sand particles smudged on his cheek. A plastic, ocean blue shovel is dug deep into the sand before being lifted up with a load, then precariously dumped into a matching bucket. A teetering sandcastle threatens to fully collapse, yet somehow still sporting a little plastic yellow umbrella that some other kids might’ve left behind. You’re clutching your mother’s hand, a clenched fist brought up to your mouth to hide the trembling of your lips from the nervousness of approaching new people. The sandbox is a part of the playground, but you want to be there alone. You want to be in your own little world, too terrified to face the unknowns, but after the last two weeks of coming by, this boy is always in the sandbox.

Your mother somehow convinces you that you can make new friends. ‘But don’t boys have cooties?’ you ponder. There’s only a week left until kindergarten starts, and your mother thinks it would be nice to try to meet someone so you’ll at least have some semblance of familiarity. Just when you think you’re brave enough, you almost yelp in renewed fear when another boy comes into the scene and plops down next to the other boy, his own pair of a bucket and shovel dyed a bright, firetruck red, and is ready to start digging up sand. You watch him eye the falling castle, grumbling something to the other boy before attempting to patch it and stand it back up. The other boy stares at him with wide eyes and an open mouth before morphing his face into a childish, happy grin. And immediately, you think, ‘Oh wow, I like his smile.’

Not only is it bright and wide, but there’s a certain feeling of gentleness. None of this is eloquently elaborated in your brain, but there’s a comfort that settles into your mind. That smile is what causes you to (though still hesitantly) let go of your mother’s hand and slowly wobble to the sand box, pause, before you step up and over the wooden border. The two boys have ceased their castle-building duties to stare at you, who’s now sitting in the sand and looking towards anything but them. Your head scrambles to remind yourself on how to say hello, and it must’ve done something correctly because before they can ask questions, you quietly ask, “Can I play with you guys?”

Both boys look toward each other, giving a look, before the boy with the red bucket shrugs and says, “Okay. As long as you don’t mess up my castle.”

Bowl-cut tyke flicks sand at him, causing him to splutter and yell in protest. “Don’t be so mean, Hajime!” Bowl-cut scolds before turning back to you with that earlier grin. “I’m Oikawa Tooru and he’s Iwaizumi Hajime. Wanna help me with my castle?”

And ever since you moved to this new city until now, your mother has never seen your eyes so bright.

-

You are ten years old when Oikawa, with a better hairstyle, receives his first love confession of sorts (because you’re ten).

It takes until fifth grade for you to be finally in a class with both him and Iwaizumi. Other years either had one or neither of them, but you were still able to reconvene during recess. The three of you are attached at the hips during those 30 minutes, either running around in a game of tag, swinging as fast as you could across the monkey bars, or seeing who could swing the highest.

On days when the swings are particularly busy, the three of you would take turns pushing each other, trading off once one of you had your fill. “Higher!” Oikawa would always yell happily, his voice blending in with the rest of the screams and laughs in the playground. With your own laughs leaving your lips as you attempt to push the swing, Iwaizumi would instead yell back at him, “Use your own legs, idiot! That’s what they’re for!” To which Oikawa would whine, but eyes would still crinkle in childish delight as he approached the sky.

But Oikawa notices a lot of things, more than the average fifth grader does. Then again, it isn’t hard to spot the group of giggling girls under a tree’s shade nearby, evidently gazing at him in wonder and affection. He feels his heart soar at the attention and in turn, pumps his legs even harder, almost reaching perpendicular height to the ground. Oikawa admits that he is a bit of a show-off, he wants to be the best, and without warning, releases his hands from the chains and jumps off from the swing.

Both you and Iwaizumi gape at him with a mixture of horror and awe. If you could put this moment in slow motion, you would see Oikawa suspended in mid-air, yet somehow seeming to soar like a bird. His jacket flows behind him as his arms lift up to give a sense of balance, legs stretching out to get ready to meet the ground. You wonder what the expression on his face is like, yet the terror manifests itself into your shriek of his name, pitch and tone overpowering a similar call from Iwaizumi. But Oikawa is Oikawa and he lands on both feet, knees bent and almost touching the ground before straightening back up. You’re about to start running towards him, feet already moving, until you stop because he’s twisting himself towards you and Iwaizumi, V-sign held up and that same, big grin he always has. The sun casts a halo around him and you can’t bring yourself to look away. Your feet stay rooted on the mulch and you watch as Iwaizumi stomps over to punch Oikawa in the arm, yelling about how he could’ve broken his legs and who would he play volleyball with then, leaving you to spot the aforementioned fangirls huddled like they’re coming up with a grand plan.

At first, you think nothing of it. It isn’t until after school as the three of you are walking towards the entrance when you wish you were more perceptive like Oikawa. One of the girls from under the tree has gone up to him, quickly bowing while introducing herself, grabs one of his hands to slap a folded piece of paper into it, and almost sprints away. Oikawa doesn’t have a chance to say anything, but he can only give himself a few seconds to register what just happened and unfold the ripped notebook paper. Inside in pretty cursive is an email address (because none of you have cellphones yet), which causes Oikawa to put on a shit-eating grin. He just basically received a love note, a confession, and his ego has just been fed a meal fit for a king.

He brags and boasts the whole way home, causing a permanent frown to settle on Iwaizumi’s face from pure irritation, and you find yourself only able to stay quiet, pondering and contemplating what this small nasty feeling inside your chest could be.

-

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are fourteen years old, nearly fifteen, when you receive your first love confession, which ends up being a little more refined than a hastily torn piece of notebook paper possessing an email address.

Their afternoons and early evenings are occupied by volleyball. While you had been at Lil Tykes from the ages of 6 to 10, mainly due to a massive fear of missing out and wanting to spend more time with your new best friends then, you didn’t have as much talent as those two and decided to pursue other interests. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had protested vehemently when you broke the news to them one evening over dinner at the setter's house, their mouths full of rice and chicken curry yet somehow still managing to speak over the food. Oikawa’s mother had seen you shrink further and further into your chair before slamming her hand on the table, causing the two boys to startle and cease their yelling.

“Respect (y/n)’s interests! I did not raise you,” she spoke pointedly, directing a finger at her now ashamed son, “to be so rude. If she doesn’t want to play volleyball anymore, then she doesn’t have to. She doesn’t need to keep doing something she doesn’t want to do just because you two said so. Now, both of you apologize to (y/n) and finish your dinner.”

“Yes, mother,” and “Yes, auntie,” both quietly left their lips. You wanted to hug the woman right then and there, tears nearly forming and spilling over at the fact that she was on your side. The two boys had put their spoons down and waited for a few seconds before Iwaizumi finally spoke.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you. We’re just gonna miss you a lot,” he apologized, tone sad and soft. Oikawa was still chewing on his bottom lip when Iwaizumi elbowed him to say something. “Apologize, you idiot,” he hissed.

“Ow! I know, geez. I’m sorry, too. Mom’s right, I should respect what you want to do. We’re gonna miss seeing you, like this meanie said,” Oikawa jabbing a thumb in the direction of his male best friend. Their eyes are still downcast until you let out a small giggle.

“Apologies accepted, you dummies.”

You still found time after your new art classes to go watch them play volleyball with either Iwazumi’s or Oikawa’s mother picking you all up and heading home. The three of you still lived near each other, and the two boys were happy that they could still see you somehow. Lil Tykes after school evolved into official middle school volleyball practice, yet you were still commonly found in the bleachers finishing homework or doodling in a sketchbook, patiently waiting for your two best friends to go home with you.

A teammate by the name of Wakeda had taken notice of you, had seen your interactions with the best players on their team. He had seen how nice you were with your classmates, yet still unafraid to give Oikawa and Iwaizumi shit for the smallest things. Your aura is pleasant and raw in a genuine sense, only fueling his budding, burning crush on you. He decided he wanted to be confident and bold, hoping that you would give him a chance.

The Friday afternoon starts off like any other -- Iwaizumi and Oikawa head off to volleyball practice with a greeting and a wave, receiving one from you in return as you make your way towards the math club. The art classes from late elementary school only served to show that you only possessed some mild talent for drawing and painting, but not enough for you to continue paying money for classes. The passion and drive didn’t exist for you there, not like it does with Iwaizumi and Oikawa in volleyball, and it only became something that you enjoyed in your leisure time. Instead, you eventually find yourself balancing math club and chess club -- math is on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons while chess is on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, but they never run as late as volleyball practice.

As tiring as math club can be sometimes, you usually somehow still find the energy to finish the bulk of your homework before heading home. When you walk through the bleachers and settle into your normal seat, the team spots you and gives you a casual wave. You smile and wave back, setting your stuff down before you clamber towards the edge of the rail and look down to spot the manager. On time, she looks up and greets you with a matching smile, ones that you return. The team is coincidentally taking a quick water break, giving Oikawa and Iwaizumi enough time to quickly chat with you from below (and escape their coach for a hot second).

“How was math club?” Iwaizumi calls out. Oikawa subtly observes you as you shrug. To both him and Hajime, the mental exhaustion is evident on your face and figure, yet they always find themselves asking, waiting, watching.

“It was okay,” you respond, fighting back a yawn. “Practice competition round was a bit brutal. How’s practice?” You quickly digress, noticing Oikawa was about to jump in and ask for some details.

“This crappy guy over here keeps pushing himself too much. You know, the usual,” Iwaizumi speaks before, once again, Oikawa can say anything. The latter turns to him and lets out an indignant “Hey!” before quickly attempting to defend himself.

“Iwa-chan is being mean, I’m not--”

“All right, let’s get back to work! Everybody back on the court!” The coach yells and Oikawa can only drop his shoulders and sigh, slightly trudging back into the bounds of the court outline. You stare after him worriedly -- both he (mainly out of stubbornness) and Iwaizumi (mainly out of friendship and loyalty) had been pulling late extra practice sessions and the dark eye circles were starting to become more and more noticeable. As if he could tell what you were probably thinking, he turns back and gives a thumbs up with a grin, tongue slightly poking out. You can only roll your eyes at his antics, returning to your seat in the bleachers and pulling out your science homework.

The minutes tick by as the sun slowly begins to set, rays streaming through the windows of the gym in a harsh blood orange. The coach takes a look at his watch before blowing his whistle, signalling the end of practice. The sound of volleyballs hitting skin abruptly stops, except for one last jump-serve that Oikawa sneaks in. The coach berates him loudly, only causing Oikawa to sheepishly smile and rub the back of his neck. All the players bow and announce their thanks before moving to complete their respective clean-up duties. By this time, you gather your stuff and make your way towards the ground floor. Even if your best friends were going to do some extra practice, it’s better for you to sit at their level against the wall.

The sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor increases in volume as you approach the court. But before you can make your way towards Iwaizumi and Oikawa on the other side of the net, Wakeda calls out your name. You turn towards the left to see him pick up a volleyball not far from you, and Wakeda is counting his lucky stars that he was provided with an excuse to be near you.

“Aoki-san,” you greet him by his last name. “How was practice?”

“It was good, but Coach really worked us to the bone today,” he nervously replies, hands subtly clenching the volleyball in his hands. “I was wondering if I could speak with you for a second? In private?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’ve never really had much interaction with him outside of volleyball practice, and even then it was very limited to pleasantries. Perhaps it’s about Iwaizumi and Oikawa running themselves to the ground, and nothing to do with you. “Sure,” you agree, looking around before gesturing towards the door of the gym. “We can talk out here, if you’d like.” Wakeda quickly nods and follows you. At this time, the other boys have retreated towards the locker room except for one. One who narrows his eyes at the retreating backs of two people making their way out of the gym.

He puts the last ball in the ball cart, ignoring his friend’s confused look as he jogs towards the entrance of the gym and leans against the wall out of sight. He knows it's wrong to eavesdrop, but he just has to know about what could be unfolding.

The two of you are only a few feet away from the open door and you can only look perplexed as Wakeda begins to look more and more bashful, stumbling over words and anxiously tossing the ball side to side between his hands.

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, trying to maintain eye contact until you can because he’s looking straight down towards the ground. Your heart pounds in your chest as you start to fathom what might be happening.

“I’m sorry, I just -- I like you. I think you’re really nice and cool, and I would like it if I could take you out on a date.”

You’re stunned into silence. Never has anyone expressed any semblance of romantic interest in you, nor has anyone confessed. You’ve never been in this position and the first thing your brain starts to unravel is the puzzle of how to turn someone down. It’s not that going on a date with Wakeda would be terrible -- you just don’t know enough about him. You don’t want to bring his hopes up, but you don’t want to bring him down either.

On the other side of the wood, the boy’s eyebrows are furrowed. His arms are crossed and a foot is perched against the wall, legs making the shape of the number four. His eyes are burning holes into the window across from him and he can’t figure out why a feeling of protectiveness is washing over him. But what he can’t figure out even more is why his mind is instantly screaming, “Please say no please say no please say no don’t say yes don’t leave us don’t leave me--”

“I’m sorry,” he hears, ears straining to catch your voice as you softly apologize. You watch as Wakeda’s shoulders slump and the volleyball is finally kept still between his hands. You gently put a hand on his upper arm. “I can tell you’re a nice guy, but I don’t feel that way about you. I’m sorry.”

Wakeda lets out a long breath before mustering up his best smile for you. “It’s okay, I was kind of expecting it." A hand reaches up to run a hand through his hair in embarrassment and he’s trying to think of what to say next. Be bold, be confident, his inner self reminds him as he stands tall again. Wakeda puts up the cheekiest smile you’ve seen on him so far. “But I’ll be waiting, if you ever change your mind.”

The statement only makes you smile first and then chuckle. Wakeda basks in the sound for as long as he can before he shyly joins you. The laughter isn’t meant to demean him in any way, but it’s the only reaction you can feel yourself make. It’s all so foreign to you, but you’re glad that your first interaction like this is with someone as kind as him. You trust Oikawa’s teammates.

“Thank you though, it must’ve taken a lot of courage to do this. To be honest, this has never happened to me before and I just don’t know what to say,” you ramble a little, now wondering if you’ve said too much. Wakeda begins to look a little more comfortable before making his way back to the gym with you following.

“Would it be cheesy to say I’m glad I was the first?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I know now that I’m never changing my mind.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Wakeda exclaims, only causing you to laugh. “You gotta leave some room for chance so--”

“Oi, Wakeda,” you hear a familiar voice call out. Your eyes spot Oikawa slowly making his way from the other side of the gym, walking towards you two with a hand in a pocket and another hand in the air, waving. But it’s perplexing because his chest is heaving like he just sprinted his fastest around the court. “Is that the last ball?”

“Ah, yes, sorry senpai!” Wakeda apologizes before tossing the ball into Oikawa’s awaiting hand. It quickly gets thrown into the ball cart. When you two are standing right in front of him, your friend pats Wakeda on the shoulder. “Go ahead and clean up, you deserve a break,” he says before smiling. It’s a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes or even match his eyes. His chestnut orbs have another emotion burning in them, far from the light they would usually glint when paired with a genuine grin. Wakeda quickly lets out a “see you around” and you wave back at him. Once the boy has disappeared into the locker room, you direct your attention back to Oikawa. That earlier fire in his eyes has dimmed a little, but you want to know what it is and why it’s there.

A word barely leaves your tongue when strong arms hug you to a sturdy chest. They intertwine around your shoulders, the squeeze becoming more and more constricting. Your chest tightens and you’re not sure if it’s your heartbeat or his that you’re feeling beat against your chest. In a movement of instinct, you hesitantly wrap your own arms around Oikawa, hand linking to hold onto your own wrist behind his back. Your face is pressed into his shoulder, your nose catching the lingering scent of his deodorant mixed with his sweat. His chin is perched over your shoulder momentarily before he buries his face in the crook of your neck, causing you to stiffen.

It’s not that Oikawa has never hugged you before. There have been plenty of hugs with the two boys over the last nine years, but something is different about this one. There’s an underlying intention hidden in the muscles of Oikawa’s arms, hidden in the way that he breathes in your scent. Something heavy is unspoken as a sense of intimacy falls over the two of you like a soft blanket. You can only gently grasp the back of his jersey, his grip somehow tightening even more, and finally find your voice to speak.

“Tooru,” you murmur, fighting the sensation of your heart caught in your throat. Very rarely do you ever say his name in that tone, one so gentle and full of friendly affection (but did he want it to be just friendly?), so caring and drowned in empathy. “Is everything okay?” You continue and ask. He’s trying to tell you something. He’s trying to scream it through his mind, hoping it’ll somehow miraculously meet yours. But even he doesn’t understand what’s drawing him to do this. All he knows is that as soon as Wakeda was out of sight, he needed you here in his arms. The non-verbal pleas of worry and want from earlier have substantially settled, now morphing into thoughts of “It’s okay, she’s here, she isn’t leaving us, she isn’t leaving me--”. It must be the stress from wanting to become the best, from the stress of Kageyama Tobio’s looming ascent to the top, from the general stress of classes. It must be those. It couldn’t be anything else.

“Everything’s fine,” he replies into your neck, sound muffled but just as quiet as yours had been. You can only feel your heart sink at how strained those words came out. Everything was clearly not fine. Your hands unlink and move to his waist, putting some force into your palms to try to separate from him so you can see his face. But Oikawa quickly protests a soft “no”, once again pulling you as close to him as possible with an arm around your waist and the other soon joining. He can’t handle distance from you right now, some budding anxiety from your attempts at separation quickly subdued as you’re pressed fully against his chest again. “Just give me this moment,” he thinks and pleads to some unknown force.

“I’m just...stressed,” he says before letting out a long breath and disentangling himself from you. But he doesn’t move far, the tips of both of your sneakers just centimeters apart from touching. He straightens his back and lifts his head to momentarily look into your eyes, your own face slightly tilted upwards to meet his gaze. But before you can decipher the emotions in his eyes, his head tilts down to lean his forehead against yours. Though his eyes are closed, yours are still open in muted astonishment. If the hug wasn’t very new, then this action was definitely new. The tip of his nose barely grazes yours, causing your breath to hitch, once again feeling your heart stuck in your throat. You struggle to breathe, especially when his lips are so close to yours. Somehow your thoughts drift to thinking of what would happen if you elevated your feet just a little bit, what would it feel like if your lips softly met his--

“There’s a lot going on,” he interrupts your (silly, silly) thoughts. “I keep getting reminded of how I’m not good enough, and maybe I never will be. But I want to be the best, you know?” For how tall Oikawa is, you’ve never heard him sound so small before. Your eyes can’t help but flutter closed as you relish in the sound of his voice. You try to understand what he’s feeling, the frustration, the stress, the insecurity.

“I hate knowing there’s someone better out there. I hate that there’s someone out there, right here, who’s got the pure talent and prodigal level that I don’t have because I keep getting reminded of how I’m not the one who has it. It’s just not fair, (y/n), do you understand?”

“But I know you’re here for me. And Iwaizumi. I know you believe in me and in us. You're right here with us. You always are,” he continues before you can affirm and acknowledge him. His fingers ghost over your skin, up from your wrists, to your elbows, then your shoulders, lastly lingering at the sides of your neck. Goosebumps break out in the wake of his tender trail and you fight the urge to shiver. You so badly want to open your eyes and drink in this moment of vulnerability from Oikawa, but you’re afraid that you’ll do something rash, something you’ll regret. You’re then given all the more reason to keep your eyes shut when his hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs on your cheeks, the other fingers softly splayed down your neck. He inhales sharply, then daring to slant his head down just the slightest distance, your noses firmly touching now. Your heart is now thrashing wildly against your ribcage -- you have no grasp on what is happening.

“Promise me you’ll never leave us, (y/n),” he implores, raw desperation laced and building in his voice. You can’t help but recognize the tears uncontrollably forming behind your eyelids. Nothing else around you matters -- it’s only you and Oikawa in this impenetrable bubble that you two have created. You’re too far in now, sinking and drowning into this body of water that is him, entangled and rooted in this web that he’s so quickly and craftily woven. He could ask anything of you and you would do it in the blink of an eye. How he made you feel this way in just a few minutes, from the door of the gym to the embrace of his arms, is completely beyond you, but you can’t seem to find the complaints within you. ‘How cruel of him,’ you despondently think, still unable to find it in yourself to be mad. ‘How wicked of him.’

But then Oikawa deals the final blow with a shaky breath. He lays out his last trap, one that you can’t escape. It’s the final straw, the last pull into a heartbreaking world that you will never be able to escape from for as far into the future as you can see; desperation, yearning, beseeching.

“Promise that you’ll never leave me.”

Nothing, nothing, can stop you from whispering what he so deeply desires to hear, fall delicately off your tongue.

“I promise.”

And his lips crash onto yours.

-

You and Iwaizumi are fifteen years old when Oikawa falls to his lowest.

The kiss was a one-time thing. It had lasted no more than a few seconds when the sound of the locker room door swinging open had you two jumping apart and turning away from each other. Oikawa found it easier than you did to compose himself, though internally he was berating his actions. What was it that made him do such a thing? What was it that pushed him to cross the line he never thought he’d cross? What was it that made him want to spin back around and continue what he had started?

“Iwa-chan!” He had hollered across the building, waving over said male who had smartly refrained from changing his clothes. “Help with some tosses? Serves?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Iwaizumi had muttered under his breath, grunting his affirmation loud enough. But in his peripheral, he had spotted your figure hunched over your things on the bench, had squinted at the way you seemed to be shaking, shivering. He had noticed the look, almost a glare, that Oikawa had directed towards Wakeda before imperceptibly shaking his head to focus on the extra task.

And it wasn’t until weeks later that Oikawa breached the subject during a walk home, sans you because you had late night practice with the math club to prepare for some upcoming Olympiad competition. You were insistent through text that they didn't wait for you and that one of your teammates would help walk you home. Oikawa argued quite relentlessly against it until you threatened to block him from the group chat (though it wasn’t the first time you threatened such a thing) and Iwaizumi decided to take his phone away.

While much wasn’t being said, mainly both preoccupied with their popsicles that they had stopped at a convenience store for, Oikawa broke the silence.

“I kissed (y/n).”

Iwaizumi nearly choked on his popsicle, spluttering and struggling to find the right words to say. Yet the best he could come up with was, “So are you two...dating?”

“No.”

“What the fuck? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because we’re best friends, Iwa-chan. I didn’t know when to tell you though, thought you’d get mad at me,” Oikawa said, pouting childishly.

“So...well, you can tell me what happened before it later. But what happened after? And when did this even happen?”

“Everything just went back to normal. We never spoke about it. And it happened a few weeks ago in the gym after practice.”

“But why?”

“Hmm…” Oikawa had pondered for a few seconds and then shrugged. “Not sure. I was just really stressed, and I was scared that she’d leave us.”

“Us? How am I included in this? And where’d you even come up with that thought?”

“Because it’s always been us three, and it’s always gonna be us. We can’t be apart.”

“We’re eventually going to be apart, you know. It’s not likely that we’re all going to end up in the same city.”

“No,” Oikawa spoke obstinately, hands harshly crushing the wrapper around the now empty popsicle stick. “That’s not going to happen. We’re going to stick together wherever we go. We’ll play for the national team and (y/n) will find a job in Tokyo. We’re always going to be near each other. That’s how it’ll be. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Iwaizumi had nothing to say about that, except for, “We’ll see.”

In the month or so to the blossoming age of fifteen, things don’t change very much. Oikawa becomes more physically affectionate with you and Iwaizumi. You try not to notice how often and how casually Oikawa tends to sling an arm over your shoulders. He does the same with Iwaizumi, though the latter is more likely to shrug it off in mock annoyance and causes Oikawa to lament about lost friendships. But even if physical distance has shortened, Oikawa begins to dig a mental wall between you two. His face becomes more hardened during practice, rarely ever putting up an earnest smile with his teammates. The late-night practices run even later, each serve hitting harder, each toss against the wall getting stronger. The nights when you leave him on his own slowly increase in frequency, going back home with only Iwaizumi. The third leg of the triangle missing feels so adulterated, so wrong. Oikawa is digging himself towards a hell that he won’t be able to return from, but how can you lift him back up? How can you dig your heels into the earth and pull him back out?

“I’m trying my best,” Iwaizumi attempts to comfort you one night. He sees how often you turn back to look at Oikawa as the two of you reluctantly move to leave the gym. Practice had been rough on him, getting switched out with Kageyama Tobio. You had watched his defeated body collapse onto the bench, and there was nothing more that you wanted to do than to run down and snap him out of whatever mental spiral he had created. One serve after another slams into the ground, his figure hunched and panting yet pushing itself to the limits.

“He’s going to kill himself at this rate,” you whisper morosely, turning back to peer at the dark sky. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“You know there’s no one more stubborn than that idiot. He’d have to pass out for you to drag him out of here.”

“Please teach me how to serve!” A young male voice calls out. Both of you pivot on your feet to see the source, eyes focusing on the scene of Kageyama Tobio requesting a seemingly simple task from a senpai.

But you can only watch as Oikawa’s eyes lose any semblance of emotion, instead only darkening with what seems like rage entering his body. He begins to tremble, and Iwaizumi must’ve seen something shift because no sooner than that does he bolt at top speed towards the unsuspecting pair. You can only watch in horror, shell-shocked, as Oikawa begins to forcibly swing his right arm, the back of his hand aiming straight for Tobio’s right cheek.

A horrible screech unearths from your throat in the form of a piercing “NO!” and slices through the air, just as Iwaizumi is able to stop Oikawa’s assault on the poor unsuspecting underclassman. You’ve never seen him so uncontrolled, so ready to intentionally commit an act of violence against an innocent person. Your ears pulse with your heartbeat, barely registering Iwaizumi apologizing to Tobio and giving Oikawa the lecture of his life.

The latter is reminded of the purpose of having a team, is scolded for having been so selfish in his pursuit for excellence. You start sprinting over when Iwaizumi headbutts Oikawa in the nose for his insolence, tossing your bag down as it only decreases your speed. You don’t care for the trouble of cleaning out blood stains from towels when you begin to clean his face, his eyes still furious and full of anguish but somewhat softened when he sees your tears. He continues to let Iwaizumi teach him a lesson while you pinch the bridge of his nose and tilt his head back. Like handling a doll, you have to lift his arm so he can keep the towel in place himself. You then scurry off to find the first-aid kit, leaving Oikawa to fend for himself. Only a couple of minutes later, the three of you are sitting on the ground and you’re dabbing ointment on the emerging bruise right in the middle of Iwaizumi’s forehead. Iwaizumi is a little calmer now, though he’s still verbally punishing Oikawa for even thinking of purposefully hurting a teammate.

Oikawa thinks the three of you are all fine and okay. He’d be ridiculously thickheaded if he wasn’t able to catch onto how quiet you are on the walk home, how instead of walking between him and Iwaizumi, you’re now on the opposite end. There’s a tug at his heartstrings when he plays with the idea that you’re attempting to put distance between you and him, but he refuses to believe it. His actions were a momentary lapse in terrible, awful judgment, and you had forgiven him. Why else would you have tried to help with his nosebleed? There’s no way you’d let something like this drive a rift in the trio.

There’s just no way.

-

“You’ve been avoiding him, haven’t you?”

There are times when you forget that Iwaizumi can be just as perceptive as Oikawa. For the last two weeks, you would, more often than not, avoid them during lunch. You attempt to show up at their volleyball practice as late as possible, saying that your club activities went longer than usual to prepare for upcoming competitions. You still walk on the opposite side from Oikawa on the way home and only give the bare minimum answers to any of his questions, leaving very little room to continue conversation. The atmosphere is heavy and awkward, tension so thick that Iwaizumi would need a chainsaw to cut through it.

This time you’re on the roof of the school. It’s cliché, so cliché, but the weather was too hard to ignore. Mostly cloudy with a slight wind, the perfect temperature without feeling too hot or too cold. You loved being outside during these days, and you had weaved as fast as possible through the emerging crowd of third years, up the stairs, and onto your personal sanctuary. Your bento is half-eaten when Iwaizumi makes his presence known. You should’ve seen this coming.

“He’s worried about you, y’know?”

“I know.”

“He misses you.”

“I know.”

“...he wants to know if you’re avoiding him because of that incident.”

“...which one?”

“The kiss.”

You whip your head in his direction, giving Iwaizumi an incredulous and affronted look. Instinctively, Iwaizumi throws his hands up, signaling that you shouldn’t shoot the messenger. God, Oikawa could be such a clueless buffoon sometimes. You scoff and nearly snort. Iwaizumi looks about ready to tear his hair out.

“So the great king thinks that I’m avoiding him over something that we haven’t talked about that happened a few months ago?”

Iwaizumi can’t find the words when you slam your bento box down on the ground, chopsticks thrown haphazardly on top and almost rolling off the edges. Iwaizumi catches them as you stand up in anger and begin to pace in front of him.

“Who does he think he is? He’s got a decent following of fangirls to help stroke his ego, and I’m sure some of them are more than willing to worship the ground he walks on. His teammates practically idolize him -- sans you -- but he thinks I’m losing sleep over some kiss we had months ago? It would make much more sense if this had been a couple of weeks after that, but we’re talking months right now! How is it," you stop in your stride, bottom lip beginning to tremble as you look down at Iwaizumi. "How is it that he’s one of my best friends who’s known me for almost 10 years, a genius in his own way, but still can’t tell that I’m avoiding him because I’m scared of him?”

This time, Iwaizumi is confused.

“You’re scared of Oikawa?” He asks, trying to confirm what he just heard.

You let out a long breath, forcing yourself to simmer down and keep a cool head. Part of you feels guilty, yet another part feels justified for your actions. You were only protecting yourself; it was only natural.

“I’ve never seen him like that,” you begin, gingerly sitting back down next to him. The comfort of your best friend that you’ve been denying yourself of is granted as you rest your head on his shoulder. You link an arm around his as well as you begin to curl into a familiar position. Iwaizumi only naturally rests his head on top of yours, hands folded in his lap and legs stretched out.

“I’ve never seen him look so angry, even when that one kid in second grade tried to make fun of you. Or even when someone took the shit talking too far at an official game last year. But he was ready, Iwa-kun. He was ready to displace Tobio out of sheer anger and spite. I know he knows better now. I’ve seen how much better he meshes with you all on the court and attempts to bring the best out of everyone. But it’s hard to look at him sometimes and forget what he was then. What if he gets mad like that at us one day? What if he tries to hit you?”

What if he tries to hit me? is left unsaid, but they ring loud and clear in both of your heads.

“The idiot knows that I could take him down in a fight if it ever came to it. And since it’s apparently not obvious, I’m just letting you know that Shittykawa would rather throw himself off a cliff before ever laying a finger on you like that.”

“But how can you guarantee that?” You argue back, lifting your head up to look him square in the eyes. You want to see if the same hesitancy is reflected in his orbs, the same uncertainty that had been slowly building up in you as an ugly beast. Instead, his eyes are steady and full of promise, never straying from yours as he ends the debate.

“You can trust me. And if I’m wrong, I promise I’ll do anything to make up for it, though the chances are very, very low. They’re practically non-existent.”

And if Iwaizumi says so, well…then it probably is so.

“...I trust you then,” you comply, your head leaning down to rest on his shoulder again. “You better be right.”

“I know I am.”

Silence.

“If you’re not going to eat the rest of your bento, you should give it to him. He’d be happy to see you.”

A few sighs later, a couple of stretches, some steps down the stairs, you find yourself stuck at the door of their classroom. You can see him with his jacket on, head buried in his arms on his desk and turned towards the windows. Iwaizumi gives you an encouraging pat on the shoulder and you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Somehow you find yourself demurely sitting in the empty desk chair in front of him, hands clutching your bento box and chopsticks. Iwaizumi stands by you and watches as you quietly gulp.

“Tooru, wake up.”

Oikawa thinks he’s dreaming. More often than not, you had plagued his visions in sleep, often ending with you attempting to wake him up, but it had been spoken by his mother. He would be disappointed that it wasn’t you by his bedside trying to goad him out from under the sheets.

“Tooru, wake up. I have food.”

This is different. His eyes are bleary and caked with exhaustion, vision catching the light that peaks from under his elbows. Her voice is so close -- he has to give in and just look. Oikawa lifts his head and stares in front of him. He blinks once, then twice, then multiple times, and you’re still there. This is not a dream, he concludes. This is too good to be a dream.

You watch him warily as he attempts to gather his bearings. In the meantime, you open your bento and grab the last onigiri. When Oikawa begins to form the sounds for your name, you quickly stuff the rice ball into his mouth, causing him to give a muffled protest and use one hand to prevent the food from dropping. You watch with muted delight as everything begins to hit him all at once: the food in his mouth, you in front of him with a close-lipped smile, Iwaizumi leaning on the desk next to you two, the sunlight beaming through the windows.

His eyes slightly water, choosing wisely to not say anything for now. Oikawa dutily finishes the rice ball before you place the bento in front of him with chopsticks neatly arranged to the right of it. His hands shoot out to cover yours before they leave the bento, squeezing gently as he looks at you with apologetic puppy eyes. You can’t stop your smile from widening, and only then does Oikawa happily let go, thank the food, and begin to chow down with a gusto that had been missing for the last week.

Things are going to be okay. Unless that group of fangirls seething at you over in the corner is an indication of something otherwise.

-

You turn sixteen when Oikawa gets his first, real girlfriend.

It’s your first year at Aoba Johsai and Oikawa has captured the hearts of many people from around the area, be it still from middle school, or even some of the upperclassmen. Those who are engrossed in school volleyball were surprised to hear that he didn’t matriculate into Shiratorizawa. And because Oikawa keeps most everyone at arm’s length, only very few people know the reason why. It wasn’t that he was good enough to get in, that’s for sure -- it had mainly been him refusing to “serve” Ushijima. The Herculean boy can criticize his choices all he wants, but Oikawa will never step down from his pedestal willingly.

What no one knows besides Oikawa himself is that Ushijima was only 70% of the reason. The other 30%? He was not going to be the one that separates the trio. What a hypocrite he would be if he had left after having so passionately convinced Iwaizumi that the three of you would always be with each other.

Little do the two boys know that you had seriously considered going to Shiratorizawa. They knew how smart you were as you consistently placed in the top 5 of your class throughout middle school. What they didn’t catch onto was also how well you did in math club and chess club -- to be fair, they knew you excelled, they just weren’t sure of the details. Inquiries about your competitions were always answered in team format: we did well or we placed pretty high. The same existed for chess competitions -- you weren’t a national champion by any means, but you were still somewhat recognized. But again, the same answers were given: we all did well. Math club and chess club never had the public presence that other clubs did. Very few cared, and much less was said.

Before Oikawa pointed out how disgusted he was by the idea of going to Shiratorizawa, you had studied for their entrance exams in your spare time. You didn’t play any sports, so those scholarships were out of the question. It’d all have to be based on merit and you were ready to prove yourself. You had gotten past the first two rounds of exams without them knowing, and your nights only became longer and longer as the material increased in difficulty. But then the two boys talked about going to Aoba Johsai together since they were invited anyways, and not long after, you found yourself at the entrance of the testing center with Oikawa and Iwaizumi on either side, putting Shiratorizawa to the back of your mind.

Things are more brutal in high school. Subjects are more difficult, classes take more time, after-school activities often extend past the sunset. There are physically not enough hours in a day to spend nearly the amount of time you used to have with Oikawa and Iwaizumi. The fangirls increase, Iwaizumi’s irritation becomes more exaggerated, and Oikawa becomes too nice on the fan-service.

He’s the triple threat: smart, kind, an amazing volleyball player. You and Iwaizumi can only roll your eyes as he plasters on his fakest grin for the crowd of girls huddling around him, demanding his attention. A part of him is thankful that so many seem to admire him. As much as he won’t return the affection, he welcomes the non-stop stroking of his ego. It does wonders at keeping his insecurities at bay, even if he knows that everything is superficial and surface level. They think they know him, but only a handful of people truly understand his personality.

So when Oikawa announces on the train home that he’s taking a girl out on a date, you and Iwaizumi can only passively nod, thinking that nothing will come of it. Then the second date happens, the third, the fourth, and then the stamp of the label between the two.

“I have a girlfriend now, guys!”

“Like actually? Sounds fake to me,” Iwaizumi scoffs, Oikawa taking offense.

“You wound me, Iwa-chan! What do you take me for, a heartless player?”

“Somewhat,” you jokingly supply, eyes still trained on your notes from your biology class. You don’t need to physically see him to know that he’s pouting and threatening to stick his tongue out at you. “Who’s the poor girl?” You ask, not really expecting much.

“She’s in your class, actually. Tachi Misaki?”

Your eyes stop registering any of the text that you’ve written. How did you miss that? How did you miss the fact that the girl he’d been dating was sitting only two rows away from you?

“Well,” you reply, clearing your throat. “All I can say is that you’re shooting above your level.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad, plus she’s really smart and pretty. She seems kinda low maintenance, pretty chill. Makes pretty good cookies. You think I could get her to learn how to make milk bread? But only if she has time.”

A heavy sigh leaves you as you stick a pencil between the pages and snap the notebook shut. Iwaizumi looks deep in thought before asking, “You think you’ll be able to handle her?”

“I mean, I’ve been going out on dates with her up ‘til now. She seemed fine and said she knew how busy my training schedule was. Like I said, she’s chill. Doubt she’s ever going to be super clingy or anything like that.”

By this time, you’ve all arrived at Oikawa’s house. He waves goodbye as he enters the front door, leaving Iwaizumi to walk you home.

“I give it three months, max,” you tell him. It’s mean, but you know Oikawa. He’ll be the most caring boyfriend in the beginning, but then he’ll get too comfortable, too complacent. He’ll unknowingly rely on the other person to comply with his needs rather than continuing to compromise to meet theirs. It’s only a matter of time before Misaki realizes that.

“I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt...maybe he’ll finally wake up, y’know. He’ll have an excuse to stop putting in extra practice or do something other than watching Shiratorizawa matches ‘til 2AM.”

At that, you cast a disbelieving look at him, his eyes catching yours. It isn’t long until you’re both failing to keep your laughter in. Oikawa Tooru? Ditching the opportunity for extra practice? Over his dead body.

Your estimation comes to fruition when Oikawa lightly dunks his forehead to lay on top of yours during the train ride home. The three of you had been standing near a pole, your own arm linked around it for some balance as you review and scribble some extra things into your notes from class. Oikawa is hanging on by a handle while Iwaizumi is grasping the part of the pole above your head.

“Misaki-chan broke up with me,” he spoke, loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear as well.

“Did she say why?” You ask, unable to move your head as you stare at the flap of his jacket.

“Becauseimtooobsessedwithvolleyball,” he mutters quickly.

“Say that again? And louder?” Iwaizumi teases.

Sigh. Straighten. “Because I’m too obsessed with volleyball,” he repeats a little bit louder, looking slightly ashamed and embarrassed that he, the great king of the court, the sole subject of so many girls’ affection, was ultimately dumped. The other part of the embarrassment masked the guilt he felt inside, having taken advantage of Misaki’s affections for him. Your eyes meet Iwaizumi’s, knowing that the conversation from months ago wasn’t said for naught. The sad, inevitable truth was there, and someone had to say it.

“It’s okay, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi nagged, patting the bachelor’s back. “You gotta make compromises, too.”

“But she knew! And we went on dates. That’s compromises, right?” Oikawa bemoaned, stubborn and petulant as ever. “It’s not like she wasn’t warned…”

“How many times did you guys go on a date?” You ask, attempting to get him to see reason. You know that the truth is there. He’s just fighting against full acceptance.

“Mmm, three times. No, four.”

“Three times in three months? Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath. “Okay okay, um, what’d you guys do on the dates?”

“(Y/n)-chan, are you jealous? You wanna go on a date with me?” He teases, a pointer finger poking your cheek. You squint at him before (gently) slapping the back of his head, causing him to rub the area out of mock pain.

“Ya, do you want to die?” You threaten. “I will throw you off this train if I have to.”

“Can I help?”

“Iwa-chan! Why are you on her side?? Shit, I need new friends.”

“Good riddance.”

“Stoooppp!”

From then on, Oikawa swears off girlfriends in high school. Everyone is too busy, and no one is going to understand him and be okay with what he does. Volleyball is his passion and dream, why is that so hard to get through people’s heads?

(But he knows that as much as he protests, he couldn’t give Misaki what she wanted. He wanted to make it work, he really did.)

The horde of fangirls only grows over the years. He’d rather hold a torch for no one than to try again. Nothing mattered more than a victory against Shiratorizawa and moving on to nationals. The fangirls’ affection would make up for any lack of a love life and Iwaizumi can only shake his head as a trail of hopeful hearts are left in the setter’s wake.

There are times when Oikawa is incredibly thankful for you, that at least he has some sort of close female companion that’s not his sister or mother. Even if you’re busier than ever, you still make time for him and Iwaizumi, whether it be attending their late practices or making sure that they finish their homework over the weekends. They can’t play if they’re failing classes.

(Y/n)’s personality is what he wants in a girlfriend, Oikawa realizes one night. Someone chill, someone understanding of his lifestyle, someone who goes out of their way to spend time with him. Someone he feels a connection with no matter the distance, someone he wouldn’t hesitate to go to if they needed him, someone who would always, always be there--

But he can’t possibly date you. Why risk losing you when he already has you within his grasp? There’s no need to worry about making time or planning for dates, no need to worry about coming up with a gift for White Day (as if he already doesn’t). There’s no need to worry about you leaving him now when his ugly, petty side manifests from time to time because you’ve seen it all. You would never leave him, he reaffirms to himself. You will always be by his side no matter where he is. He can always count on you to be in the bleachers during games, front and center, with the rest of the school cheer crowd. He can always count on you to lend him a shoulder, to pick up the phone at 4AM when he’s woken up anxious with thoughts going at a million a mile, to hand him two slices of milk bread on the weekends from their favorite bakery, to keep him in line with Iwaizumi.

Why risk voiding himself of all that, of so many memories, just to pursue the chance for some more intimacy?

And as Oikawa’s fingers hover over his lips, his mind reeling with flashbacks on how that kiss with you felt even two years later, the last thing he registers before succumbing to the nothingness of sleep is the painful tightening of his chest.

-

Oikawa is seventeen when he is reminded of how easy it is for him to lose you.

The three of you are sitting on a checkered blanket on top of a hill that overlooks the nearby area. A plastic bag holds a mix of canned beers and hard ciders, some empty and others waiting to be consumed. You’re taking it a little farther than you usually do, typically sipping one through the night. Yet you’re on your third and the two boys can only look at you with slight concern.

Your finals were particularly difficult -- part of you had still been recovering from the vicarious loss against Shiratorizawa, knowing how hard your two friends had taken it. It had only caused Oikawa and Iwaizumi to spend even more time in the gym after practice, a ferocity and drive in their muscles that you had never observed before. The amount of time and energy it took from you to forcibly change and drag them away from the court was substantial. Sleepless nights were dedicated to thinking of ways on how to lift them back up from whatever mental hell they created for themselves. In a sense, those nights paid off, but not without a price.

The alcohol tingles through your bloodstream and seems to slow everything down. You’re not drunk, but you don’t think you could appreciate the scenery before you as much as you are now if you were completely sober. Oikawa is going on about the constellations in the night sky, Iwaizumi teasing him relentlessly, and you can’t bother to fight the lazy smile that stretches across your face. Would you still have these nights with them if you had gone to Shiratorizawa?

“Did you know,” you softly interrupt them, unable to keep the secret any longer. It’s been two years, surely it couldn’t hurt. “Did you know...that I would’ve gone to Shiratorizawa if it hadn’t been for you two?”

The sound of cicadas has nothing on the sudden pounding of Oikawa’s heartbeat. Iwaizumi has an equally flabbergasted look on his face, searching your own as you pull up your knees and rest your chin on top of them. The lack of a verbal response only makes you chuckle, reaching down to grab your can and take another sip.

“Evidently it didn’t happen,” you drawl and then giggle. “Be-because I’m obviously at Seijou--”

“That’s not funny,” Oikawa interjects, voice hard and stern. “That’s not funny, you don’t get to say that and expect us to laugh it off. Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?”

“Why does it matter so much?” You mumble, suddenly desiring for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. “I clearly didn’t go, okay? Jesus--”

“No!” The setter yells, his face morphed by rage. “You were going to leave us? Why would that ever get into your brain, I mean, did we do something? Did we do something to push you to do something like that?”

“Hey, dude, calm down--”

“Don’t you get it, Iwa-chan? She was going to leave us and go to fucking Shiratorizawa of all places! She--”

“I thought you guys were going to accept their invite, okay?!” You interject, exasperated and frustrated. Evidently, you made a mistake in bringing this up now. “I didn’t realize how much you guys hated Ushijima’s guts and immediately changed plans once Aoba Johsai was on your agenda. So just stop, alright? It was two years ago and nothing’s gonna change.”

Oikawa pauses and attempts to reign in his anger. Why hadn’t you talked about it with them at the time? Why can’t he stop thinking about you donned in their maroon and white uniform, sitting casually in the bleachers of the gym, and instead of waiting for him and Iwaizumi, you’re waiting for Ushijima? Why can’t he stop thinking about how wrong that image looks, how much he’d like to be there and snatch you away because you’re his, you can’t abandon him--

“I’m sorry,” you apologize so mousily. Oikawa glances and sees the glisten of unshed tears, immediately relaxing and feeling guilty for being so hot-headed. It was the alcohol, for sure, he rationalizes before he turns to face you, scooching as close as possible to you. You’re still sitting in a fetal position as he slides one arm behind your waist and another wedges between your stomach and thighs. He buries his head into the crook of your neck. Your body welcomes the familiar heat and continues to relax as Iwaizumi lays his head on your shoulder. Instead of tears of sadness, you can only bask in the realization of how lucky you are two have these two doofuses in your life. The tears spill over as you sniffle, overcome with emotions that could only be so pronounced under the influence of alcohol.

“I’m so fucking lucky to have you guys,” you blubber. Oikawa’s grip tightens for a second as a tacit return of affection. “And I promised, didn’t I? I promised that I’d never leave you two, so you’re stuck with me. I wouldn’t wanna leave, even if you made me try.”

That’s right, Oikawa remembers. You promised -- and you would never go back on your word.

-

Oikawa is eighteen years old when he begins to truly understand the extent of your selflessness and how much of a selfish monster he can be when it comes to you.

It’s the night of their loss against Karasuno High, their last chance at defeating Shiratorizawa now gone and irreversible. Though tears had been shed towards his teammates, an overwhelming amount of gratitude and pride to have gone down fighting their hardest, the regret was eating at the two boys like nothing else.

Oikawa’s mother is working late -- you met them at the doorstep when they returned from the team dinner, saying nothing but holding up a bag of their favorite desserts. Minutes later, the three of you are a tangled and cuddled mess with the television quietly airing some old rerun of a child’s cartoon. It’s only when the boys’ cries have dwindled down into occasional sniffling do you dare to speak.

“I’m so proud of you two,” you begin but already feel yourself choke up again. “You did nothing but your best. I know how much this meant to you guys, but this isn’t the end. Time doesn’t stop here and you’re gonna go on to be even better players in uni. So don’t give up, okay?” You ask, hands squeezing whoever’s arm or arms you might be holding on to.

“Don’t give up when there’s so much left to fight for.”

They know you’re right. You’re always right in times like these.

Iwaizumi leaves about an hour later, eyes brighter and a small shit-eating grin on his face after about 13 brutal rounds of Uno. He won the majority of them, thankful that there was something to distract him for now. Oikawa promises to walk you home soon since it’s so late, earning a glare that could only mean “You fucking better, you shithead” and waving him off. Such a worry-wart. But when the front door clicks closed, the silence takes over once again.

Oikawa stands from the couch and stretches, gives a few twists before turning to look back at you. You’re curled up with your phone in hand, probably scrolling through social media or catching up on the news. “Hey,” he calls for you attention and holds out a hand. Don’t do this, he tells himself. “There’s something in my room that I need to return to you. Come with me?” Only delight fills his veins when you nod and set your phone down on the couch before sliding your hand into his. They stay linked as he leads you to his room, only separating when he lets go and you take refuge on this edge of his neatly-made bed.

As childish as he can be, you forget how tidy Oikawa is with his room. The books on his shelf are meticulously arranged by last name, photo frames strategically and aesthetically placed in empty spaces. His writing utensils are carefully arranged in a row on the side of his desk, and his drawer looks much of the same. Stapler, tape, sticky notes and tabs are all methodically placed, somehow speaking true to his leadership abilities.

Your observations are cut short when Oikawa sits down next to you with a book in hand, one that you had lent him months ago. To be honest, you completely forgot that he had it and you make it known to him.

“But did you like it?”

He nods with a small smile, yet his eyes are staring at the wall with a faraway look. He’s contemplating something, drawing plans in his brain, and after a couple of glances towards you, Oikawa gives in.

Much like that Friday afternoon four years ago, he leans his forehead on yours. A wave of deja-vu crashes over you as you’re once again plummeted into the dark ocean of his eyes. He keeps his gaze steady, searching for any kind of resistance. He needs something that only you can give him.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he whispers. You can feel a shiver crawl up your spine at the heaviness in his voice. “But I don’t know who else to ask. I don’t know why I can’t think of anyone but you.

“So can I please kiss you?”

What?

“But why?” You ask, the confusion so obvious in two words. Oikawa can only sigh to himself before carefully maneuvering you to straddle him, facing no objection from you. It’s just a kiss, he thinks to himself. It’s just a kiss that he wants with no strings attached to help with the emotional turmoil that only you could begin to understand. Your heartbeat feels like you’ve been swimming against the current for hours, your body betraying you as you let him bring one of your hands to his cheek. His eyes flutter closed and he languidly nuzzles into your palm, lips placing the softest, most intimate kiss there.

“I don’t know,” he breathes. Your heart aches and aches. “I swear that all I do know is that it can only be you. Please, please let me have this.”

And you can’t help but nod.

Unlike last time, Oikawa doesn’t surge forward. He instead bides his time, lips only barely ghosting over yours as he holds onto your waist. The contact becomes progressively fuller, more purposeful, as he completely slants his mouth over yours. In response, your fingers tangle themselves in the strands at the base of his neck and he finds himself drawing you closer to him, arms now completely wound around your waist.

This is a sin, he has to remind himself. This is a sin that only benefits him -- he is taking, he is stealing, he is feeding on an elixir at the cost of your soul. But his desires only overpower his guilt because as devilish as he may be, the sin feels like heaven. A paradise made by you created solely for him.

He catches your bottom lip between his teeth before gently sucking, eliciting the most delicate moan from your throat. The sound only flips a switch in his head as he applies more pressure, desperate to hear it again. Mine, he thinks as he begins to litter kisses down your neck, teeth catching skin to leave marks on you. Mine, he screams to himself as his hands peek under the edge of your shirt, skin on skin.

“Tooru--” you pant, trying to lean back and gather your thoughts. This is too much to handle. If you’re not careful, you’ll unlock the only thing that you swore you’d take to your grave, the three words that could ruin everything.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps before diving in for another quick kiss. “I’m not asking for sex. I just need you,” he confesses, pecks littered between his words. Oh, how you wish this were under different circumstances. How you wish that you could utter those three words without a care in the world and know that they’ll be reciprocated. Your lips meet his again and it feels like the earth has stopped on its axis.

Both of you are unaware of the amount of time that passes. Fervent kisses slowly diminish to a languid pace until it comes to a complete stop. Oikawa can only lean his forehead against yours, eyes hooded and chest heaving with you in a similar state. Neither of you have enough energy to find the right words. His arms only draw you into his chest and he can’t help but marvel at how perfect of a fit you are for him.

“I should probably head home,” you whisper. Being the man-child that he is, he shakes his head vehemently and momentarily refuses to let you escape his embrace.

“Do you have to?” He tiredly grumbles, reluctantly loosening his grip with a sigh as you slide off his lap. You nod and bend forward to give him one last kiss, the separation causing him to whine. You make your way towards his body-length mirror, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles and fix your hair. Oikawa hugs you from behind, his limbs wrapping around your shoulders.

“We’re okay, right?”

You nod. Don’t we have to be?

-

And that’s when Oikawa Tooru begins to slip through your fingers.

It’s a combined effort, really. Everybody’s trying to wrap things up, all the big competitions are jam packed into the last remaining weekends, and making room for last-minute college entrance exams. If people weren’t already at their wit’s end, then you can barely fathom the amount of anxiety and stress coursing through the halls of the school.

You use this to your advantage, finding yourself unable to go home with the boys, unable to visit them on the weekends, unable to respond to text messages frequently. You begin to learn to look past Oikawa rather than at him, not bothering to spare a second glance when he’s caught in the hallways by a group of infatuated admirers. You fail to see the way his eyes follow your passing figure or how he slows his pace when walking by your classroom, hoping to get a glimpse of you. You fail to see the disappointment on his face when your spot in the bleachers is empty. So he falters, redirects, and lets the distance increase.

The only time you reconvene with the two is after the graduation ceremony. Your mother would kill you if you left without a picture of you and your best friends, and clearly their mothers are thinking the same thing. Outside in the courtyard, the women spot each other, your mother almost dragging you behind her. They’re trying to find their respective sons, though it doesn’t take long because the sudden clambering and screaming of girls can only serve a few purposes. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are craning their heads before they’re able to finally spot the frantic waving from their mothers.

Soon, they’re in front of you, both individually giving a hug. “Congratulations,” you tell them with as much happiness as possible. It’s not like this will be the last time you’ll see them -- you’re all attending the same university. They thank you and return the festivities. It’s hard to miss how your hug with Oikawa lasts a little bit longer than normal, even more so when his hands trail down your arms before slyly slipping a small object into your hand. As you unfurl your fist, a shiny circular object is gleaning back at you. You spot a stray thread from his jacket and it hits you -- the devilish fox has given you his second button. You’d like to pretend to be unaffected, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“And if I don’t accept?” You challenge. For a second, Oikawa is genuinely taken aback. It’s obvious he didn’t expect you to consider rejecting the button and stumbles over his attempts to come up with a comeback. When he spots you fighting to contain your laughter, his embarrassment only pushes him to lightly shove your shoulder.

“For being my best female friend,” he elaborates. You deserve an award for containing the pain and bearing through it, pretending that his words don’t faze you in any ways. Iwaizumi only shakes his head at his friend’s idiocy -- what is he thinking?

“Oh I’m sorry,” you apologize in a mocking tone, pretending to bow. “Should I be groveling at your feet now like the other girls back there? Oh great king?”

“Why yes, I am indeed the great king--”

Smack. “You’re such an idiot,” Iwaizumi reprimands. The recipient of the hit pretends to bawl, resuming his childish antics once again.

That’s how high school ends, with two aching hearts and three families of laughter, all making way for the start of university.

-

Oikawa somehow makes it possible to balance his love life, volleyball, and his business major. Both he and Iwaizumi blend in nicely with the university team as your words from before ring in their brains. They could and are becoming better players -- high school suddenly seems so casual compared to the stakes at the university level. Teammates are constantly being scouted and the two begin to strive for the national team. Despite the fact that they barely see you anymore, Oikawa still dreams of his ideal future: he and Iwaizumi playing for Japan in Tokyo, with you having a job there and supporting them in the stands.

Sometimes he’s able to spot you on campus -- the building for the pharmacy program that you’re enrolled in is relatively far from the business building. Most times you’re walking with your classmates, giggling at something or engaged in a heated discussion. He thinks about how beautiful you look in your white coat with your hair tied back, your face donned with some makeup for the natural look and a pair of dainty earrings. Part of him boils in jealousy whenever there’s a male acting particularly close with you, but he knows he has no right to think that way. The thoughts only fuel him during volleyball practice, which seems to satisfy his coach.

It’s easy for him to like someone, he figures out two years in. It’s easy for him to get to know someone and pick up on their quirks. As a social butterfly, it’s not difficult for him to get along with his partner, but when it comes to developing deeper feelings...it just doesn’t happen. He wants so badly to reciprocate, especially considering how much effort some of his past partners have put in. But something stops him every time -- unwillingly, he’s become a master at letting people down easy, that he’s truly sorry he can’t reciprocate their love. On the other hand, Iwaizumi is pretty successful in his current relationship, going strong for the last year and a half. Oikawa seeks his advice at the club one night, keeping an eye out to see if there’s anyone he'd be willing to take home (not that he ever does).

At this point, Iwaizumi wonders how he’s still friends with him. Yes, he’s fiercely loyal and has been by Oikawa’s side since the beginning, but if the guy was going to do nothing but continue his descent into idiocy, there was very little he could do for him. (Y/n) had the same problem as Oikawa except you figured it out much, much faster.

“You idiot, you’re in love with another person.”

“...say what now?”

“That’s all it is. You’re in love with someone else. That’s why you feel like you can’t say it back when a different person tells you they love you.”

“If I was in love with someone else, wouldn’t I know?”

Yeah. Oikawa Tooru is a big, bumbling, messy pile of denial.

“You know what,” Iwaizumi sighs, setting his drink down before paying the tab. “You’re right. You’re in love with yourself.” Oikawa knows that he’s joking. Nothing could be farther from the truth -- he’s always dedicated himself to the happiness of others. That’s the role of him as a setter and captain: to bring out the best of his teammates’ abilities, but he can only do that if he’s at his best as well. His eyes cast another look into the dancing crowd. He downs his drink as someone catches his attention, also moving to pay his tab.

“Tell your girlfriend I said hi!”

Iwaizumi only gives him a lazy wave as he makes his way to the entrance. Oikawa is sliding his way onto the dance floor and when Iwaizumi spots who he’s wormed next to, he hopes that one day, Oikawa will really open his eyes.

Because he’s always going for girls who look wildly similar to you.

-

It’s hard to have an undefeated season. Some losses are harder than others and during the first two years, you, sweet, sweet (y/n), always managed to find him.

He needed you most on those rare days. Even after weeks of limited texting and quick passings on campus, there was a level of comfort that solely existed by being with you. He would attempt to joke and tease with you to put up a facade, but when you would lead him to his couch and leave your arms open, the veil would drop as he cried into your shoulder. He would then pick up his terrible, terrible habit of giving into sin (as long as he wasn’t dating anyone), selfishly knowing that you would never say no. He’ll ask you if this is okay, and you always say yes. The two of you never cross the line of anything more than making out, yet the kisses become less lust-ridden and more tender over time, laced with something much more meaningful.

(And with each time, it becomes harder and harder to refrain yourself from confessing.)

Oikawa reveled in being able to sigh against your lips, stealing your breaths from your lungs and even convincing you to stay the night. There were mornings when he truly felt that there was nothing better than waking up with his arm around your waist. He could squeeze you to his chest and wish for this all day. Sometimes, you woke up earlier than him and silently admired how peaceful he looked compared to the haggardness just hours before. With his hair so delicately splayed across his forehead, the ends curling up to defy gravity, a tiny scar dusting his right cheek, you would be painfully reminded of just how much you love him.

The last time you woke up next to him, you thought to yourself, “I can’t do this anymore.”

In the beginning of the third year, you fight every cell in your body to not go to him. Instead, you call him up and ask how he’s doing -- he doesn’t question it, doesn’t demand that you come see him. If there’s something preventing you from visiting him, he won’t ask about it. Even only a call brings him the warmth that he usually craved from you, though he knows nothing can satisfy him like your physical presence. The routine continues, volleyball practice becomes longer, and Oikawa thinks he’s finally getting used to this. This is the farthest you’ll distance yourself from him. There’s no way that you’d ever be more than a train ride away.

“are you guys free for coffee this weekend?” The text reads in the group chat. (Y/n) knows they don’t have a game, one of the rare breaks they get. Oikawa and Iwaizumi have the same schedules, so when Iwaizumi texts back “yh, where at?”, it’s for both of them.

“our favorite cafe restaurant by the bookstore okay? 1pm? my treat?”

“sounds good. see you then.”

“see you guys xx”

They think nothing of it -- it’s just a rare moment that everyone is free and able to catch up. Both dress up in their best casual streetwear, Oikawa even donning the glasses that you like so much. He’s nearly buzzing with excitement at finally being able to talk with you and have you within arm’s distance. Everything is normal when they walk into the cafe, spotting you in the corner booth. You’re quick to match their grins and give them both hugs, watching in delight as their eyes take in the milk bread, agedashi tofu, and a few other shareable dishes. They’re starting to think this is a bit of an apology meal for not having seen them in forever. It’s nice that whenever the three of you are together, there’s no awkwardness and everything seems to be back to normal.

Like how it’s supposed to be. But all good things must come to an end, right?

“It’s so nice being here with you two,” you laugh as you lean back against the vinyl leather. “I’m glad we could do this.”

“We need to do this more often,” Iwaizumi agrees. “We don’t have as many classes since we’re juniors now. Practice is still always the same so we should have more time to meet up. What about you?”

“Same here. Actually,” you pause, hesitant and scrambling for words. You’ve even rehearsed what you’re about to tell them, yet everything has been forgotten.

“I’m...I’m applying to doctoral programs in America.”

The boys look like two deer caught in the headlights. Oikawa is immediately filled with a sense of dread and fear -- his worst nightmare is slowly transforming into reality, unearthing its ugly head. A train ride is one thing, but a 13 hour plane ride? Time differences? A whole different country on the other side of the world?

“That’s...wow. That’s um,” Iwaizumi clears his throat. “That’s a big move. Why did you decide on America? I thought you wanted to start working after?”

“I’m enjoying pharmaceutical research more than I ever thought I would. We just actually got back from an international conference a few weeks ago -- there were so many interesting topics and studies being done. And...I thought it’d be nice to travel somewhere, you know. Have a change of pace.”

And you’re not completely lying. You’ve never really been outside of Japan before. Part of you wants to travel and see more of the world, especially after the conference in Berlin. Famous structures and streets that had been mere images on your computer or phone screen were suddenly physically before your eyes. You wanted to gain a better grasp of what it could offer and what you’ve been missing out on.

The other part of you felt stuck here. You needed an excuse to end the never-ending cycle that was Oikawa. It was an infinite loop of running to him, falling into his arms, attempting to put an obstacle on the bridge between you two, but then crossing over it to fall back into his arms again. You were never close to being free of him, not that you wanted to, but you wanted to know who you could be almost nearly without him. You wouldn’t be you if you were completely void of Oikawa Tooru. He would always have a part of your heart and be a part of your soul, no matter what.

“When would you leave?” Oikawa timidly asks, his gaze directed towards the crumbs on his plate.

“I’m actually on track to graduate by the end of this academic year. If I find a research group that wants me and is willing to provide me with adequate funding...I’d probably leave pretty soon after graduation. Y’know, get settled, meet my group, and...yeah.”

Silence ensues as the two boys figure out what to say. Your leg is bouncing restlessly beneath the table, fingers quietly tapping the side of your cup. Iwaizumi seems to be taking it pretty well, but Oikawa...you can’t tell.

All emotion is wiped from his face. He’s choosing to pierce holes in the wall by your head and his arms are crossed in front of his chest. He’s trying so hard to be mature about this and be happy for you, yet all he can register is the fact that you’re leaving. You’re leaving them, you’re leaving him, you’ll be gone forever and you’ll never come back, you’re going to find new friends, a new partner, a new bed that belongs to someone else to fall asleep in, oh how wretched--

“We’re gonna miss you,” Oikawa says, voice barely any louder than the tranquil music playing over the speakers. You feel like you’ve been transported back to when you were ten and breaking the news of quitting volleyball, hearing the same four words spoken in a very similar manner. Your heart settles and softens, you relax and reach over the table to grab one of their hands in each of yours. Iwaizumi doesn’t hesitate to give a friendly squeeze while Oikawa’s grip is only limp at best. But after a few seconds, it tightens and tightens until you understand the message: please don’t go.

“We’ve spent our whole lives together. I’ve told you two this before and I’ll say it again -- I’m so lucky that I have you guys. Part of me is able to do this because I know you’ve always got my back and I know that’s not going to change, even when I’m halfway across the world. So keep in touch? Please?”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi reaffirms and Oikawa nods. You express your thanks and retract your hands, trying to ignore the way that Oikawa’s fingers linger for as long as they can without being too obvious. The three of you eventually leave, bidding goodbye to your waitress and cashier, and continue to amble down the streets. Time always flies when you’re with them, conversation never truly ending. Eventually Iwaizumi has to leave to meet his girlfriend for dinner and Oikawa, being the gentleman that he always is, ensures that he’ll bring you home safe and sound. As the two of you wave goodbye and watch him disappear into the crowd, Oikawa offers his arm to you. He sees the pleasant surprise on your face and can’t help the smile on his own as you wrap your hand around the crook of his elbow.

The two of you continue to chat -- you fill him in on all the little details of your life that he had missed. In return, he does the same, eliciting so many different emotions from you. The pain in your heart increases when you realize just exactly how far away you’ve been from him. You choose to ignore that he’s taking the long way to your apartment, relishing in this rare time you have with him. Oikawa is the only person to make you feel like there truly wasn’t enough time in the world to spend with the one you love.

This must be what it’s like to date you, he realizes. Your hand is still wrapped around his arm, even when the limb became tired and settled for tucking his hand into his jacket pockets. He drinks in every laugh, every scoff, every grin, every gasp of surprise. Very few things bring him greater satisfaction than the way your eyes sparkle when he buys one of your favorite snacks off a food cart or when he points out something that reminds him of you. He never wants you to let go -- all he wants now is to collapse into your bed and wake up with his arm around your waist once again.

Before he knows it, they’re in front of your door, fiddling with your keys. He leans against the wall by your door as you locate the right one, but you hesitate.

“This was really fun. Thanks for basically spending your whole day with me.”

“I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” he replies, unable to stop the words from flowing out of his mouth. “It’s been a while since we’ve hung out like this.”

“Yeah, it has been.”

Silence.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” He asks with eyes full of hope. You’d have to be blind to not notice them, yet you would still be able to tell by the tone of his voice.

“Of course,” you reply with a small smile. “Until you get sick of me.”

Oikawa scoffs, but puts on a sincere face as he quips back, “Never.”

In all the years that you’ve been friends with him, nothing has ever sent blood rushing to your cheeks so fast. Your heartbeat quickens at an alarming rate and it doesn’t help as he begins to lean down, getting closer and closer to your face.

At the last second, he dips his head to the right and places a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. Before you can blink twice, he’s already walking backwards with the cheekiest grin on his face, a cute little wave towards you. He then turns on his heels and makes his way to the elevator with a bit of a skip in his step.

You don’t even remember unlocking your door and toeing off your shoes. Your entire body feels like lead, yet also buzzing with excitement. And as you’re collapsed on your bed, staring at the ceiling, all your brain can comprehend and tell you is that Oikawa Tooru is truly the bane of your existence.

-

Oikawa does his best to stay true to his word.

Even with fewer classes, there’s always something that he needs to finish: that project, this homework assignment, extra practice -- sometimes, he wishes he hadn’t been in uni. Or at least picked a different major. When he can, he tries to visit you on nights, sometimes sheepishly empty-handed, other times holding a bag of your favorite pastries. “Are you trying to fatten me up?” You joke one night before biting into your favorite flavor of macaron. “More to hold and hug,” he teases back, causing you to give him a light whack on his arm.

He’s there when you nervously submit all your applications. He’s there when you receive offers to interview. He’s there when you get your first official acceptance. And of course, he’s there when you make your final decision. There’s no hesitation when you jump into his arms after submitting your confirmation of acceptance to University of California – San Francisco, though he wishes you could be there forever. Weeks begin to roll by, much quicker than he’d like. The usual cheery and joyful chattiness of when he usually visits evolves into comfortable silence, both of you settling for watching some space documentary on Netflix most nights. Oikawa hates how the inevitable is slowly creeping up his spine and more often than not, he’s torn between wanting to either just rip the Bandaid off or try to stop time.

The approaching reality of you physically leaving him starts to take its true form when you ask him to tag along on the hunt for suitcases. You want to get at least one of those large suitcases that have to be checked in to try to bring as much stuff as possible. The whole time, Oikawa is half numb, though he tries his best to give his honest opinions on the suitcases you consider. He knows what a big step this is as he watches you eagerly pay for your final selection. However, nothing hits him harder than when he comes into your apartment a week before your graduation and there’s a wide array of empty, mismatched cardboard boxes in every room.

To drive the stake in even further, the recently purchased suitcase lies wide open in your bedroom with some stray objects already neatly tucked in. Yet the one that catches his eye is a picture frame placed in a bubble wrap sleeve. It holds the physical memory of you, him, and Iwaizumi at your high school graduation, each person with their own bouquet of congratulatory flowers. There’s a reason you have this specific shot framed out of all the ones between the parents combined; reason being the fact that Oikawa isn’t looking at the camera lens, but rather looking at you.

His eyes glinted with pride and care in that picture, a certain softness in his posture. The picture has always sat demurely in a back corner of your desk. However, some friends or recent classmates that have been in your room have taken note of it, excitedly asking you, “Is this your boyfriend??” It’s more painful when you have to tell them he’s not, only just a very close childhood friend. A very close childhood friend that you’ve kissed multiple times and will always give your heart to, but you leave that part unsaid. .  

Oikawa spends the night with you, taking much longer than usual to fall asleep. You’ve already passed out next to him, mouth slightly agape and hands curled up near your face. Quietly, he adjusts his weight onto his elbow, leaning his cheek into his hand. His other hand gently tucks the strands of hair that have fallen over your face behind your ear. To him, you look nothing short of angelic. He hates that he’s only able to spend time like this with you as the clock is ticking -- he wishes that he made more of an effort to meet and see you during your first two years. Perhaps he wouldn’t feel so anxious at the thought of you leaving. Perhaps the two of you would’ve established something that would guarantee your return.

At this thought, Iwaizumi’s words ring in his head.

You’re in love with someone else, that’s why you feel like you can’t say it back when a different person tells you they love you.

They continue to ring as he finally falls asleep. They ring as he only wakes up hours later, settling on trying to quickly whip up breakfast for you. They’re loudest when you quietly pad up to him and rest your chin over his shoulder, nearly scaring the shit out of him. Even then, his body can’t help but relax from the feeling of your body pressed against his back.

Even as he prepares for his finals, you’re in love with someone else.

Even in the midst of presenting a final project for class, you’re in love with someone else.

All the way up until he’s parked in a seat, arms cradling a bouquet of your favorite flowers, tucked between Iwaizumi and your mother at your graduation ceremony, you’re in love with someone else.

And when he’s cheering his loudest for you as you cross the stage, pausing to shake the university’s president’s hand and receive your diploma, his heart finally settles on the unshakeable truth that he probably knew all along.

I’m so fucking in love with (y/n).

“I’m so fucked,” he mutters to himself, but not quiet enough because Iwaizumi catches it.

“What’d you do, shithead?” He leans in to ask so your mother doesn’t hear. Oikawa only shakes his head, his leg subconsciously beginning to bounce anxiously. Iwaizumi takes a look at the leg, then a look at his face, and when he catches how Oikawa’s eyes follow you happily ambling off the stage, the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. After years and years of living in pure oblivion, Oikawa has finally understood just how much he loves you.

“God, you have such shit timing, you dickhead,” Iwaizumi groans, fingers pinching and massaging the bridge of his nose.

“What did he do?” His girlfriend on his other side asks. He leans over to briefly kiss her cheek, murmuring a “I’ll tell you later,” in her ear before turning back to his best friend.

Oikawa feels like a nervous schoolboy with the way his face is construed, his hands grasping the flower stems like it’s his lifeline. He begins to think about how he should confess to you – should it be during a candlelit dinner? On the roof of your apartment under the stars? Should he take you to a park or by the beach? A million more scenarios run through his head as the rest of the graduation ceremony proceeds. He stands in a daze as the students begin to file out, the families in the stands soon following suit. His body stiffly stands to follow your family and creaks like a rusty robot, absolutely unprepared to face you with his new revelation. The only thing that brings him out of his head is when Iwaizumi yanks him back by the collar of his shirt, practically choking him in the process. His throat coughs and fights for oxygen as he rubs at his neck, watching your mother disappear into the crows before turning to Iwaizumi with a pitiful and defeated look.

“What the hell was that for, Iwa-chan? Why—”

“You are not telling her right now, you hear me?” Iwaizumi threatens in a hushed voice.

“But—”

“She’s leaving. In a week. To America. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Can’t that be for her to decide? She can turn me down, but I need to tell her!” Oikawa cries out as the three of them do their best to stay out of other people’s way, pressing themselves to their seats as much as possible. People are casting them either curious or nasty looks for being obstacles in an increasingly heated argument, but they could also care less.

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at him, then stabs a finger to his chest. “What you want, what you need…it’s always been that way for you when it comes to her. Have you ever stopped to consider what she wants?”

“Of course I have, what do you take me for?!”

“What do I take you for?! I take you for an idiot who spent years taking advantage of her!” Iwaizumi drives his point by jabbing the finger on his chest again. “I take you for an idiot who knew that she could never say no to you and you still used her whenever it was convenient! You think you’ve been such a martyr—”  

“I didn’t do that! I—”

“Then prove it,” Iwaizumi hisses. “Prove to us that you genuinely care about what she needs. You know what she needs right now? She needs us, her friends, to go out there, find her, and congratulate her with flowers. Then, we’re gonna go to our favorite place with her family and celebrate her. Today’s about her and her achievements. We’re gonna be happy for her because that’s what she needs today. That’s what she deserves.”

Most of the crowd have trickled towards the lobby by now, leaving the three of them with a few student workers running around to pick up trash and stray programs in preparation for the next ceremony. Iwaizumi sighs, seeking comfort in the way that his girlfriend slides her hand into his. Everything that he had been holding in is now out in the open.

“You think you can do that, Tooru?” He asks in a calmer voice.

“…yeah.”

Oikawa tries his best to keep his feelings at bay. They threaten to spill when your eyes drink in the bouquet he’s brought for you, a pure smile of delight as you lean in to catch a whiff of your favorite flowers. It’s even harder when you give him a friendly peck on the cheek, quickly moving to give Iwaizumi and his girlfriend hugs. He can’t stop sneaking glances your way during lunch, watching how happy you seem to be as you verbally recall the last three years. His mind does its best to stay involved in the conversation, yet it doesn’t cease to drift towards Iwaizumi’s words. It’s heart-wrenching because everything he said was true – he had knowingly taken advantage of your lack of resistance, had knowingly acknowledged that he was committing a certain sin in life, driven by greed and desire. He knew years ago that he could never get enough of you and would never be able to.

“…your plans after this?” He hears your mother ask you, her voice reminding him to be an active participant in this chat.

“I kind of just want to go home and get out of this dress, probably start up my packing again. I had to put that on hold with finals and everything.”

“We can come help you if you want.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I might even take a nap first.”

“You can take a nap while I help you pack,” Oikawa interjects without a thought. He just wants more time with you. You look skeptical and he puts on an affronted expression. “I’m a really neat and organized packer, thank you very much. You think I’m some poor slob who can’t properly fold a shirt?”

“It’s exactly what I think.”

“Hey, don’t be so mean! I’ll prove it.”

“Fine,” you say with a smirk widening. “But I’m kicking you out if it isn’t up to my standards.”

“Yes ma’am!” He replies like a soldier, comically saluting with two fingers. Iwaizumi shoots him his best warning glare as the table resumes chatting.

About an hour later, the two of you are walking side-by-side in the direction of your apartment. The pace is slow with your heels on, especially as they become more and more painful. Eventually, you let out a big huff and stop in your path to slip off your heels, picking them up by the straps and letting them hang off your fingers. Your gown, stole, and chords are draped over your other arm, the other hand holding onto the cap and flowers. Oikawa watches as you sigh happily and wiggle your toes before you continue the trek barefoot. He’s terrified that you’ll get a staph infection and stops you.

Without saying anything, he takes the graduation gown from your arm and fits it over you, thankful that the bottom of it nearly reaches your ankles. Your arms have a mind of their own as they slip into the sleeves. He crouches for bit and fiddles a little bit before pulling your zipper up, then takes your cap and fits it onto your head. Before you can question his actions, he sweeps around to lift you up in his arms bridal style, causing you to yelp at the sudden motion. One of your arms is already swung around his neck, the other just trying to make sure your heels, chords, and stole don’t drop. Oikawa adjusts his grip a little, then looks down at you.

“You okay?”

You’re incredibly flustered, saying nothing but giving a few nods. He gently smiles before bringing you closer to his chest. Eventually, you place everything into your lap, leaving your other arm free to lie over the flowers on your stomach. You have an internal battle with yourself on whether you should link your free limb around his neck or not – do you want to come off as clingy? Would Oikawa mind? Would it make him uncomfortable? You soon decide, fuck it. You just graduated, you deserve to be pampered a little bit, even if it means treating yourself to indulging in one of your longtime fantasies with the man you secretly love.

Even though your face is already pretty close to his, by wrapping both arms around him, you’re practically nuzzling into the side of his neck. He smells faintly of the cologne that you gifted him last year for his birthday. It brings you fond memories of your life with him so far, how even through all the pain of unrequited love, every second has been absolutely worth it.

“Thank you,” you murmur and tighten your grasp. “For everything. For being my best friend, for always being there for me.”

“You don’t need to thank me, silly,” he replies affectionately. “You know we love you, right?”

“I know. I just wanted to make sure that you knew how much I appreciate it, that’s all.”

“…I’m so proud of you, (y/n). Look at you, finishing in 3 years and going to California for your PhD. Maybe I should’ve tried harder to convince you to stay in Japan, but I know you wouldn’t have been as happy. Is it too late to still try to persuade you?”

You unwind an arm to smack his chest lightly, playfully scolding him as you fully hold onto him again.

“Don’t even think about it. Of course it’s too late.”

“Well, then there’s no harm in still trying, right?”

“Tooru!”

“Okay, okay, fine~.”

-

Once you’re home, you grab random articles of clothing from your closet before heading into the bathroom to change. Oikawa offers to find a vase for the bouquet during this time, your ears hearing the clinking of glass and the snipping of stems. You didn’t realize you had grabbed Oikawa’s spare jersey he had given you the summer before your first year of university, only noticing after you begin to fit it over your head. The flush in your cheeks is subtle as you slip on a pair of pajama shorts, a giddy feeling filling your chest.

When you step out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen, Oikawa’s back is facing you as he continues to arrange the flowers. Something about the scene feels comfortably domestic, as if Oikawa just returned home from work and decided to surprise you with a little gift, insisting that he put it together for you. You’re almost expecting him to give you a kiss on the cheek before saying, “I’m home, dear.”

In the midst of your thoughts, Oikawa is satisfied with his work, grabbing the vase and turning with the intent to let you see his work. He startles when he sees you leaning against the wall and staring at him, yet his heart fails to calm once he realizes you’re in his jersey. Part of you suddenly feels shy with the way he can’t stop admiring you, yet another part is filled with newfound confidence. Your feet softly pad towards him, relishing in the fact that you can render the great Oikawa Tooru speechless. He lets you take the vase from him, still frozen in his spot as you gently place a kiss on the corner of his lips. If he were more composed and more cognizant of his actions, he would have taken you up in his arms and kissed you for real. You take the vase from his fingers and place it on your dining table, appreciating the delicate hue of the petals. It’s a shame that you’ll have to get rid of them soon since you’re leaving in a week.

“Come on, Tooru. Time for you to show me how good your shirt-folding skills are!”

Progress in packing is slow as the two of you talk and laugh, the sound of The Good Place quietly playing on Netflix from the small TV in your room softly filling the room. Eventually, Oikawa refuses any of your help, practically ordering you to stay in your bed and leave it to him. In the familiar warmth of your comforter, you fight to stay awake as exhaustion from the morning events creeps through your body. Before long, you’re taking a last look at Oikawa’s side profile sitting on your floor next to a pile of unfolded clothes and falling asleep soon after. It takes a few minutes for him to realize that you haven’t said anything in a while, only chuckling to himself when he sees you slipped away to the dreamworld.

For the next hour or so, he folds and packs your clothes in silence. The pile dwindles and shrinks until there’s none left, though there’s still some in your closet that you’ll be wearing over the next week. You’re still asleep on your side – he can’t find it in himself to wake you, instead doing his best to climb over you and sit on the empty side of the bed without jostling you. Just as he finds a comfortable half-lying, half-sitting position against a pillow and the headboard, you unconsciously do a full 180-degree turn and snuggle closer to him. One of your legs twists around his, your arm slinging over his waist.

Oikawa’s heart almost wants to fly out of his chest. Had it really been over a little more than a year since you last slept next to him? Was this going to be the last time that he’d experience this?

Was this going to be his last chance?

He must’ve nodded off in the end. Your voice speaks to him in his subconscious, softly calling out his name. His body is curled up on the side where you were sleeping, arms stretched out as he finally wills his eyes to open. His vision is blurry and heavily veiled with sleep, needing a few blinks to register that you’re bent over with your face very close to his. He wants to be wakened like this every day, to the sound of your voice rather than an obnoxious alarm tone from his phone. With all the strength he can muster, his arm reaches out to grab one of your wrists and gingerly pulls you towards him. You giggle as you snuggle into the little space you have, his arms hugging you tightly to ensure you don’t fall over the edge.

“Five more minutes,” he pleads, nuzzling into your hair. “Or we can go back to sleep, I don’t mind…”

“Tooru, we need to eat dinner though.”

“But I have you,” he mumbles without thought, clearly saying whatever first comes to his mind.

“That doesn’t make any sense though.”

“It makes all the sense in the world, silly (y/n)…come on, let’s sleep some more…”

“Even if there’s fresh omurice waiting to be eaten?”

“Mmm…did you make it?”

“Yes, I did.”

Oikawa sighs again before moving his hand from your back to rub his eyes. “Well, we can’t let your hard work go to waste then, right?”

“Not at all.”

You disentangle yourself and ignore how your body aches to lay with him again. Your hands take one of his own in your grasp, pulling him from the bed and towards the dining table where a fresh plate of omurice awaits them. Oikawa doesn’t forget his manners, pulling out a chair and indicating for you to sit in it. Like a true gentleman, he’s cognizant of how he pushes the chair back in to meet your sitting position, ensuring that you’re comfortable before moving to his own seat. The two of you say your thanks quickly before digging in.

Dinner is a quiet ordeal besides the occasional laughter. He tries to play footsies with you underneath the table, having full advantage with his longer legs. You threaten to flick rice at him if he keeps at it, but as time passes by, it’s clear your words hold no weight. Light banter continues when you bring the plates to the sink, refusing any offers of help from him. He settles for having an arm around your shoulders, leaning some of his body weight onto you. His eyes watch you with love and fascination as he berates himself for not figuring it out earlier. Things would have been different, and life would have been much better.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmurs, tone solemn and heavy as you begin to dry off the dishes.

“I know. But I’ll be back in a few years, you know?”

“A few years sounds like forever though.”

“It’ll be over before you know it, Tooru.”

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

He’s still searching for words when you’ve put the last plate in the drying rack, folding the towel neatly on the counter. You turn to face him directly, causing his arm to slide off your shoulders. He delicately grasps your hands with his and plays with your fingers, eyes focused on them and unable to meet your own. Iwaizumi’s warning voice blares through his head – why, why did he always have to be so selfish when it comes to you? Why did he always give in?

“Tooru, what—”

“I love you, (y/n).”

He’s gone and done it now. His eyes are ablaze with passion as they attempt to convey the depth of his feelings, boring straight into your own shocked gaze. He means it more than anything right now. You have to understand that he’s serious, that he doesn’t mean this in a platonic sense. Without a doubt, he would do anything for you. Could you see that in him?

He begins to panic when you slowly detach your hands, your expression hardening before you turn to occupy yourself with something else. You search for something before heading towards your living room and start packing the decorations into a cardboard box that’s cradled against your hip.

“(Y/n), please—”

“You don’t mean it,” you bite out and somewhat harshly smack a book into the box. “You’re only saying it because—”

“I’m not saying it just because you’re leaving, I swear,” he vows, following you as you pack away more things. “Just look at me—”

“How could you?!” You say accusingly, slamming your box onto the floor and whipping around to look at him. Oikawa isn’t entirely surprised by the tears streaming down your face, yet his heart still breaks at the sight.

“(Y/n), I—”

“What were you expecting?” You ask hoarsely, throat choked with tears. “Did you expect me to just accept it and run into your arms?! We’re going to be on opposite sides of the world for at least four years, and you wanted to start something with me a week before I leave?”

“I can’t lose you!” Oikawa cries out. He watches you collapse into your couch, head buried in your hands to control your sobs. He follows and sits as close as possible in front of you on the floor, reaching up to remove your hands from your face. “I can’t lose you more than I already have,” he whispers dismally, thumbs wiping tears from your cheeks. Out of fatigue, he places his cheek on your knees, eyes closing as you lay your hand on top of his head.

“Tooru, you—”

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he interrupts, striving to get you to see how much this is for him. “I never knew what it was until recently, but you have to know by now that I would do anything for you. You can call me up at 4 in the morning, ask me for my umbrella even when I’m 20 minutes away. You could even ask me to drop volleyball, and I’d do it. Just to make you happy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you depressingly chastise as your fingers give in and demurely run through his hair. “I would never ask you to give up volleyball, and even if I did, you’d resent me til the day we die. Hell, you’d resent me in your grave for all I know.”

“You’d still be my everything.”

At his words, you choke out another sob. This had been everything you were dreaming of, except Oikawa’s timing was just so off. You would have to spend the first four years of your relationship without him, and long distance wouldn’t be easy. Even though he would do everything to make it work, you’d worry about burdening him when he has so much he wants to live for. Wouldn’t it affect his playing? His studies? Would he eventually get tired of waiting for you and leave?

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” You sniffle.

“The chance of a lifetime, that’s what I’m getting into,” he quickly replies. He turns to rest his chin where his cheek originally on, facing you with eyes of zero hesitation. His expression softens when he senses the doubt in your face and reaches up to remove your hands from his hair, grasping them softly and placing them on your thighs. “I’ve already wasted years not being with you, and I don’t intend to lose another second. So please, please give me this chance.”

Your head is dizzy with all this information. You need time, you need clarity. You need to think this out before diving in, no matter how much you want to comply right now.

“Let me think about it, ok?” You weakly propose. “This has happened all so fast and I just need some time to think it over. This is really big for us, and I just wanna make sure we’re doing the right thing.”

“I’ll wait forever if I have to,” he agrees, then ghosting his lips over your knuckles.

“You can’t see me until we’re at the airport though,” you add in, causing him to whine in objection. “I’ll give you my answer then. It’s just a week.”

“Can I still call you?”

“Of course, you big wuss,” you tease.

“Hey, I just confessed my feelings here, cut me some slack!” He cries, pouting afterwards. You somehow still have the energy to giggle at his antics, happy that some things never change.

“You need to leave soon, Tooru.”

“No,” he objects and wraps his arms around your legs. “I don’t wanna.”

“Tooru—”

“Only if you kiss me before I leave.”

You let out a sigh, yet still smiling. “Deal.”

He removes himself and gets out of the way, stretching as he stands when you push yourself off the couch. Even for the short distance from the living room to the door, Oikawa insists on holding your hand. He grabs every second he can with you, still holding on when he’s slipping his shoes on.

“I’m waiting for my kiss,” he says with a lilt in his voice. His eyes are shining and expectant, causing you to roll your own playfully. For the first time in 21 years, you’ll be kissing Oikawa with no feelings hidden, no motives unsaid.

He meets you halfway, softly cradling your cheek with his free hand. His lips against yours bring a wave of nostalgia – god, how you both missed this, the feeling of being able to lose yourself in another person. How you both missed forming that bubble again where nothing mattered but the two of you being there together. You can’t help but think about how much you’re going to miss this in America, how it’ll be months, years, before you can ever fall into Oikawa’s arms again.

Oikawa wants nothing more than to toe his shoes off and have you jump into his arms. He wants nothing more than to carry you to your room and show exactly how much he loves you, but it’s not in your wishes. Don’t be selfish, he reminds himself. You asked for time and space to think about your future with him – if he wants to make this work, thinking of solely his own desires needs to stop here. He must prove to you that it’ll be worth it, that there’s no reason to lose any more time than you’ve already lost.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” he apologizes quietly.

“It’s okay. But consider this week as punishment, if you’d like.”

He pouts. “I really can’t come see you?”

You give a small grin, a pointer finger moving to tap his nose. “Nope.”

With that, he sighs begins to walk out the door, but not before stealing another peck. The action only makes you laugh and playfully push him over the door threshold, waving as he walks backwards with a pout. You don’t close the door until he’s turned the corner, nearly collapsing against it once the deadbolt is locked in place. Everything hits you all at once again, leaving you reeling and almost gasping for air. Your heart won’t cease its rapid pace, though it seems to come to a full halt when your phone chimes with a text message from him.

“Good night, (y/n). I love you.”

Yes, it’s amazing how lucky you are.

-

Without fail, Oikawa texts and calls you every day. He never fails to remind you that he loves you. Twice, he orders delivery to your door because he knows you need to pack your kitchen. A man who buys you food as a surprise and seems to always know what you’re in the mood for? It’s as if the universe is telling you to hurry up and marry this guy.

And Oikawa, trying to be the responsible person that he is, doesn’t see you until they’re sending you off at the airport. Your parents had offered to pick him and Iwaizumi up from his place, especially since it was a little early in the morning. A taxi drops you and your suitcases off at the gate. You hadn’t spotted them when you got in and made a move to go ahead and check your bags in. After you had finished dropping them off, you had turned around to wait outside of the check-in area and spotted the four of them chatting while waiting for you. Even with it being so early in the morning, you can’t help but break out into a smile at seeing them, speeding up your pace as much as you can with the carry-on suitcase lugging behind you.

“Thank you, guys, for coming all this way,” you express your gratitude while embracing Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

“What kind of shitty friends would we be if we didn’t?” Iwaizumi asks as you move to hug your parents. Your mother keeps an arm around you at the end, already fighting her tears.

“Mom…”

“Do you have everything you need?” She interjects, voice choking up. “Phone? Wallet? Passport? Boarding pass? New SIM card? Emergency cash?”

“They’re all here,” you say, pointing to the locations of each item. “I’m gonna be okay, mom.”

“Don’t hesitate to call us if you need anything, ok?” Your father reminds you. “We’re only a call or text away.”

“I know. I’ll try to make it home on the holidays or something, but if not, I’ll be back in a few years at least.”

“What if you end up meeting someone and want to stay in America with them?” Your mother sniffles, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin.

“Well,” you hesitate, casting a quick look towards Oikawa. When his gaze meets yours, you begin to feel more confident about the answer that you settled on yesterday. You know he’s anxious to find out what you’ve decided. “I’m sure that’s not going to happen. Can I have a minute with Tooru please? Alone?”

Your mother’s eyes widen in realization before she’s quick to shoo off your father and Iwaizumi. Once they’re out of earshot, Oikawa looks at you expectantly.

“Do I get my answer today?” He inquires, removing his hand from his jacket pocket to hold one of yours. You take the initiative to interlace your fingers with his, giving a tight squeeze.

“Mmm,” you hum while fishing out your phone with your free hand. Oikawa watches anxiously as you tap and scroll through something, breath baited as your eyes seem to light up at finding what you need. You turn the screen to him and ask, “Does that answer your question?”

At first, he’s confused. Oikawa sees a contact page open and automatically notices it’s his number. It’s not until his vision drifts back to the top of the page where his name usually was. In the past, it had been “crappykawa” with a smiling emoji, but to his delight, it now reads “the boyfriend­TM”.

His excitement prompts him to lift you from the waist and spin you around in a few circles. You shriek and shake with laughter as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck to hold on, your eyes closed tightly until he puts you down. Even then, he doesn’t detach himself from you and leans down to kiss you sweetly, never wanting to let up. It doesn’t matter that you’re leaving him in the next few minutes – he’d rather have this than nothing at all.

Minutes later and after more teary goodbyes, you walk through the line towards security. The four of them watch as you exchange pleasantries and answer questions by the guard checking your boarding pass and passport. Once you’ve been cleared, you turn around once more to give a final wave, before disappearing behind the gray walls. After you pass security and find somewhere to eat a quick breakfast, you check your phone. There’s a Snapchat from Oikawa that you immediately move to open. It’s a selfie taken at an angle where his phone would’ve been in his lap. He has his characteristic pout on his face and the caption reads, “i already miss you, my love.”

And at that moment, you know, you can feel it with every ounce of your being, that everything is going to be okay.

-

(epilogue)

Months after you moved to California, Oikawa received his invite to play for a professional volleyball team in Argentina. He consulted his closest friend, you, his coaches, and they all agreed on one thing: he’d be stupid to turn it down.

It wasn’t the Japan national team, but it was definitely an opportunity of a lifetime. He greatly admired the national Argentine team as a child, and that admiration never wavered. On the plus side, it would make the long-distance relationship easier with you, as the time difference would be cut significantly.

The relationship experienced its ups and downs. Some main recurring themes of contention involved his tendency to overwork himself and your frequent late nights in the lab, as well as your disregard for your physical and mental health during times of high stress. They were issues born out of love and care, and they were worked on to help each other improve. You’d always livestream his volleyball matches and he would attempt to stay up with you on a video call if you were in the lab or up late studying, reminding you to drink water and eat something nutritious.

Oikawa found time to visit you during rare extended breaks in the off-season. He’d always make sure that you two would video call Iwaizumi together, wearing a shit-eating grin when Iwaizumi would pick up the call and roll his eyes. In return, you saved up and visited him in Argentina, though only able to stay up to a week at most. The new life was a little difficult and strange, but he made it work. He loved his teammates, he loved you, he loved volleyball, and he couldn’t ask for more.

You finished your doctorate in four years, just as you had predicted. You already had a job lined up before graduation at an academic hospital in Tokyo, allowing you to practice pharmacy and continue research. Not only that, Iwaizumi also earned a position in the top volleyball team in Japan, leaving Oikawa to be ecstatic. His personal dream from so many years ago was finally coming together – the three of you together in the same city, and him and Iwaizumi on the same superior team, even if it meant playing with Kageyama Tobio and Ushijima Wakatoshi. But he’d get used to it eventually.  

When you first returned to Tokyo, you were happy to see that not much had changed. Oikawa had another couple of years in Argentina before he would return to Japan and join Iwaizumi on the team. A few weeks in, you were already enjoying your job immensely – the only thing missing was your boyfriend.

A year has passed, and you are currently sitting at home in front of the TV with a mug in your hands. You’re dressed down in your comfiest sweatpants and Tooru’s jersey from university days. A white gold chain holding a simple silver ring hangs daintily around your neck as a token and symbol of a promise. You check your phone and frown a little – Tooru hadn’t texted or called you all day, though he did mention he would be busy with preparing for an upcoming practice match. You’re now worried that Tooru’s overworking himself again, holding the device now to send a quick text reminder to take breaks and stretch afterwards.

You toss your phone to the side and try to focus on the humorous game show, picking up on how ridiculous some of the antics were. American game shows had nothing on the ones here in Japan.

Someone rings your doorbell. At first, you think it’s the postman dropping off a package you had been expecting and make no move towards the door. But the doorbell is rung once again, leaving you to hesitantly approach the entrance. You peek through the spyhole and spot a young man outside, hat slipped on backwards, glasses perched on his nose, and hands stuffed into his pants pockets. He’s looking away from you and has suitcases around him, but you can recognize that side profile from anywhere. Could it be?

You fumble with the lock and throw open the door as your heart threatens to beat out of its chest. The young man finally looks up at you and you gasp as tears spring forward to your eyes.

Oikawa Tooru is standing right in front of you with the most beautiful smile on his face that you have ever seen.

He’s ready to catch you when you squeal and run into his arms, dissolving into laughter as you blubber into his neck and attempt to make sense of what’s happening. Tooru spins you around a few times for good measure, relishing in the comfort of your body against his. It had been too long since he last held you, and luckily, he’d never have to wait that long ever again.

His invite came as a phone call not too long ago, personally from the coach of the team that Iwaizumi had joined. They were willing to wait for him if he wanted another year in Argentina as he had originally planned, but Tooru decided that it was time to come back. He had buzzed with excitement as he planned out his great return, wanting so badly to surprise you. It’d go down in the book as one of the best reveals of a major life change for the two of you, and he wanted it to be perfect.

“How—what—when—I have so many questions!” You stammer, hands reaching for his face to make sure that this is real. Tooru leans into your palm, eyes catching the glisten of the promise ring that he had gifted you two years ago. He was a little worried that it wouldn’t be noticeable enough (“I need people out there to understand that you’re spoken for!” “What are you, a prince of the medieval days?”), but he did appreciate how beautiful it looked when you wore it as such. The happiness he feels right now is more than he could have ever imagined, especially now when he can finally look into your eyes and say the words that he’s been yearning to speak for years to you —

”I’m home, (y/n).”

-

fin.

[saintsurvivors]

for @azurelacrima u know what u did

Tw major character death, jedi Mac, clone Jack, order 66 :)))))))

Mac doesn't know how long he lies on the dirt floor, spreadeagled and aching. He barely remembers how he got there, honestly, only remembers that his lightsaber had been tossed out of his hand by a blaster shot, and a follow up shot nearly having took his head off before his knee had just....buckled.

He groans quietly, his broken ribs scraping at the very inside of his chest as he tries to move. His right wrist is no doubt useless, but Mac can't find the effort to lift and turn his head to check.

He can hear his men around him, a huddle of activity as they try and get themselves on their feet. He can hear Duke flying overhead, Bung trying to get his machine gun to not rattle on every fifth rotation like he'd been complaining about in the barracks. He wonders who'd it had been to take out his left knee, to dump him on the floor and save him.

"Heya there, hoss," Bucket under his arm, lashed liberally with the fire red paint of the 336th Battalion and dirt, Marshall Commander Jack grins wildly, face upside down, a scarlet Phoenix smeared in fingerpainting across his chest armour. Macs finger prints stain whorls in the paint. In the upside down expanse of his helmet, a slender saber hilt just peaks out, Jack's twin blasters hooked on his hips. "Lookin' a little like a lost Loth-kitten there, need a hand?"

He should have known.

Mac grins just as wide, just as brightly, despite his aching ribs and hurting body. Jack puts his bucket on the ground, and his hands, for all they're armoured, are massive and gentle as he helps Mac to his feet, a steady arm around his waist. He's exceedingly warm, even through his blacks and clone armour, and Mac kind of wants to curl into his chest and fall asleep until next Primeday.

"Thanks, Jack." Mac wheezes softly, and before he can even try and press a hand to splint his ribs, Jack's hand is there, pressing gently against the long line of his torso. His gloves are gone now, leaving tanned skin and calluses as Jack sneaks a hand beneath the thick layers of Mac's jedi robes, and the armour Jack had all but forced on him. Just like Jack's, a scarlet Phoenix takes flight on battered wings, every line, every fingerprint whorl from Jack, from his men.

"We should get you over to Deac," Jack says softly, and his eyes are worried, brow knitted together as his other hand reaches up to smear away dirt and blood from Mac's eyebrow. "I'm feeling more than one broken rib right now, cyar'ika, you should get checked out."

The name that Jack calls him has something warm and languid swell up in his chest, and he sighs quietly, pressing his forehead to Jack's. The tip of their noses press together and he can smell the rationbars on Jack's breath, the flutter of his eyelashes as they just skim over Mac's own.

"I know you're tryin' to distract me, Mac, but you ain't gettin' out of seein' the medic. Deac kicked mine - and yours - last time you managed to escape him."

Mac wants to ask for a little longer, to stay here, in Jack's arms with his men surrounding them, safe and sound for a little while longer, but he knows he can't. He can't, for all that he wants to and a Jedi cannot be selfish, a Jedi cannot have attachments, and that is something Grandmaster MacGyver had tried so hard to impart on his son, especially when they'd found out that his mother had been, as Jack had spat when he'd murmured it, a dha jetii.

He should move, his weakness has no place on the battlefield, not when his men need him, for all that they'd lost very little brothers this time around, but Jack's force signature was warm and like home, wrapping around him snugly. He sighs when he hears the faint beep of an important comm. message coming from their feet, Jack's bucket beeping insistently.

The clones headsets run on a wide infrared system in their units, somewhat overwhelming to anyone who'd try to listen to it without preparation or knowing the correct frequency. Mac had been humbled when his men had offered him a headset of his own, a small thing to nestle in his ear, and that would tune to what he needed with only a touch.

He takes a step back to allow Jack to bend. He keeps an arm across his ribs and taking a tentative step to try and put pressure on his left knee. He turns when a bucket hits the floor, the rattle of a lightsaber hilt echoing it.

"Jack?"

Jack-

Jack stands still for a single moment, his eyes seemingly glassy and staring at the horizon past Mac for a second, before they seem to slide into focus.

"Traitor identified." Cold, mechanical, Jack no longer looks like his Jack. His eyes are cold, beneath an unknitted brow, jaw clenched, body straight and at attention. His bare hands look oddly delicate, human against the white and scarlet red of the armour. Mac wants to reach out, but he does so with the force instead, and it feels as if it wraps around his own throat when he feels coldness, a deep empty hole where Jack stands, once full of hope and love and laughter.

His Commander stands empty and quiet and silent, everything Jack is not.

"Jack?" Shaking, his men are the same, quiet and empty, an unending abyss of loneliness, of darkness, that has Mac's shields quivering. He hears the sound of blasters readied, the tell tale whine of them set from stun to- to-

Not even a full stride, and Jack is in front of him, cold and empty and Mac can already feel the burn of his own tears. His men surround him, and as a quiet dawning sense of danger crawls up his neck, a quiet pool of resignation, of acceptance threatens to break him.

"Jedi traitor identified." Still that same, cold voice, and he flinches when those warm, big hands come up to face. For a moment, he can delude himself into thinking Jack is reaching for him, to hug him, to press their foreheads together. He wishes he could do it one last time, he wishes he could see the others again, Sam and Riley and Bozer, even Desi. He wishes he and Jack could have had the life they wanted far away from this war, far away from anything to do them harm.

He wishes-

Those hands are on his throat, and though the Force screams, and his kyber crystal wails, he refuses. He made a promise to never hurt his men, his brothers and beloved. He wishes-

He wishes-

His breath comes in ragged gasps, wheezing. A line of fire as his ribs grate against one another. His fingers scrabble at Jack's arms, the curve of his chest.

He wishes-

Something cracks in the very back of his neck. He goes loose and limp, fingers finding soft purchase in the between chest and blacks.

"I-I'm so-sorry-"

Those hand release. Mac can't draw breath, chest refusing to heave-

Jack, cold and empty and faceless, steps back. The clatter of a lightsaber hilt falling to the floor as Jack picks up his bucket. His careless step as it breaks beneath his weight-

He wishes-

He hopes Jack knows its not his fault.

His head falls.

[marvelship-oneshots]

TRAPPED TOGETHER (STUCKONY)

PART 2 OF 2

[2.2k words]

Week 7 It was late. Like, really late and Tony had no idea of where it was. He knew he went to the bar to meet someone, got something to drink and then nothing. He was sitting on a stool in some pub downtown, with a half full drink in front of him. The girl ditched him many hours before, when he started talking about his extremely hot roommates. Steve and Bucky had a date night, as much as he had understood, it was their anniversary and Steve had every intention of proposing. They left the apartment wearing very elegant suits, holding hands. Tony knew he should be happy for them but all he could think of was not being with them. If at first he was only physically attached to both of them, he was now almost 100% sure he was actually in loved with them. And that confused him. So he did what he knew best: escaping. He reached out for some random girl who popped into his Instagram DMs. He wasn't even sure he liked her, hell, he wasn't even sure if he was actually into women, but he still went on that date. But soon, one drink after the other, he lost every inhibition and started rambling about Steve and Bucky and about how much he loved them. In the meanwhile, Steve and Bucky came back to an empty apartment. They didn't know where Tony was or that he had plans to go out. Bucky went to bed, while Steve was watching some stupid program on TV. Truth was, they were both extremely worried about him. It was not the first time Tony stayed out late, but for some reason they wanted to know that he was ok. Finally the room stopped spinning around and Tony reached for his phone. He wanted to call Steve but at the same he didn't want to wake him. The phone stated ringing. Steve opened his eyes, he had fallen asleep on the armchair while waiting for Tony to come back. "Tones" "Heeei Captain Ass." "Tony is everything fine?" Tony nodded, unaware that it was a phone call and Steve could not, in fact, see him. "I wanna come home Stevie" Steve got up, took his jacket and headed to the car. "Where are you Tony?" "Where am I?" Tony asked the bartender. "The Irish pub down the street" an unknown voice took over. Steve finally arrived. Tony had his head on the counter. Besides him and the bartender, the pub was empty. "Tones" Steve gently called. "Tones wake up, I'm here" Tony looked up. His eyes lightened up when he saw Steve and he threw himself at the blond soldier. "Heeeei Stevie" he said giggling. Tony was so drunk that he couldn't van walk. Steve had to pick him up bridal style and carry him to the car. In reality, he just wanted to be carried like Steve carried Bucky, if he wanted to, he could have walked.But he didn't want to. He needed to feel Steve as close to him as humanly possible. Steve carried him up to their apartment, laying him on his bed. Steve helped him out of his suit and into one of Steve's t-shirt, that for sure going to be more comfortable. He put next to the bed a bucket, just to be safe. "Steve" Tony whispered before Steve completely left the room. "Yeah Tones. You needed something?" Tony signed to go back, sitting up on his bed. "Come here" Steve sat next to Tony, not sure of what he was doing. Tony put a hand on Steve's thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. "Steve" Tony panted as Steve started caressing Tony's face. Tony finally looked up, meeting Steve's eyes. They started into each other's eyes for what it felt like hours, until finally Tony gathered the courage to cup Steve's cleanly shaved face with his hand. Steve placed one of his hands over Tony's, the other resting on his lower back. It was wrong, so incredibly wrong, but he couldn't help it. Tony pulled their faces closer, finally putting their lips together. They both wanted it for so long but it was not supposed to happen. They whole thing was not supposed to happen. Steve was not supposed to fall for Tony and Tony was not supposed to fall for both Bucky and Steve. Steve pulled away, getting up. He felt... strange. He felt at the same time guilty and satisfied. "You're drunk Tones" he said before walking away. That night he laid in bed with his fiance,

who he was trying to build a life with, but he couldn't fall asleep. He tried to sort out his feelings. How could he be in love with two men at the same time? He tried to mentally make a pro and cons  list. Bucky had been his best friend in the whole world since they were four, he was his fiance. Just that night he had put a ring on Bucky's hand, promising him to marry him. They had been in every type of situation together. They enlisted together, trained together, were sent to war together. Steve was there when Bucky's arm was blown away. They had been there for each other in the most difficult times of their lives. Even if he wanted to, Steve could not find a downside to that relationship. Tony had been his roommate for two intense, a relatively short time, compared to his relationship with Bucky. But he had a very strong feeling about Tony that he could not ignore.

Week 9 It has been two weeks from the "accident". Steve and Tony hadn't talked about it anymore ever since. Steve wasn't even sure Tony remembered the kiss. But he did, and he wanted more. He remembered Tony's hands on his face and his soft lips, his smell of cologne and whiskey. He remembered the feeling, and he wanted to experience it again. But he couldn't, he had Bucky, they were going to get married. Needless to say, Bucky didn't know about it, but he did notice a slight change in Steve. The night he proposed he was thrilled -who wouldn't-  but the morning after he was...different, more distant and cold. Bucky couldn't wrap his mind around the reason behind that sudden change. Steve wouldn't even dare as much as looking at Tony and Tony noticed. Bucky did too. Steve couldn't take it anymore. He had never been good at keeping secrets, not from Bucky anyways. Bucky knew him better than anyone else and if pained him no to tell him the truth. When he came home from work that night, Tony was out. He had been out almost every night since the kiss, but that was something Steve shouldn't care about. Bucky was in their room, reading a book on their bed. Steve wasn't sure he wanted to tell him the truth, but Bucky deserved to know it from him. Finding out from somewhere else could destroy their relationship. Maybe, just maybe, if he told the truth himself, there was a chance for them. "Hey babe" Bucky said as he heard the door shutting, without looking at Steve. Steve sat on the bed. "Buck, we need to talk" Bucky looked up from his book, crawled to Steve, hugging him from behind and kissed his neck. "Mh yes i want to "talk" as well" he said before biting his lobe. "Buck, we need to talk" Bucky sat on the bed, next to Steve, putting a hand over his. "Babe, is everything alright?" "No, it's not" Steve said turning towards Bucky. "Steve, baby. Talk to me, whatever it is, we can work it out" "I love you Bucky, you know that, right?" "Yes I do baby. I love you too" Steve finally looked at Bucky. A tar fell on her his cheek. "Two weeks ago, the night when we didn't know where Tony was-" "Yes, the night you proposed" "Yes, the night I proposed. As I was saying, that night Tony called me to pick him up from the pub. He was...blackout drunk. I helped him...getting comfortable and well, he was drunk and..." Steve looked at the wall. "And what, Steve? What happened?" "He kissed me" Bucky took his hand. "Ok. It's ok. He was drunk, he didn't know what he was doing" "I kissed him back. And...and I liked it" A tear fell on Bucky's cheek. "I'm sorry Buck, I really am. I love you, I'm in love with you. But I think I love Tony too" Bucky passed a hand through his hair. "Steve, hey. Everything is fine" "No Buck, it's not. I cheated on you, the very night I asked you to spend the rest of our lives together. It's not fine" Steve was crying. Steve never cried. When he did, things were bad. Bucky sighed. "A bunch of weeks ago me and Tony had...an encounter. I was going to take a shower and he was coming out. It was...hot. We were about to kiss, his hand was on my chest. From that day, I haven't stopped thinking about his hands all over me." Steve finally turned towards Bucky, gathering the courage to look at him in the eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is... I've been having...feelings too. Feelings that I don't understand how they can be possible" Bucky cupped Steve's face, putting their foreheads together. "I love you Steve, and I love Tony too" Steve closed his eyes and let out a loud sigh. "So everything is going to be fine?" Bucky nodded. "Yes, everything is going to be fine" Steve started laughing. "This is totally weird right?" No Bucky nodded.  "Yes, it's definitely weird"  Steve hugged Bucky, passing his hands through his long hair. Steve kissed the top of his head. "Do you think we should tell him?"

Later that day Tony was home. He could barely stand on his own, but he was home. In the last weeks he had spending every free minute he had at the pub, but t lie act he knew what to stop drinking. He couldn't risk having to call Steve to pick him up again. He remembered that night. He remembered that kiss, but he was aware that it couldn't happen again, for any reason. That situation was painful. Having the men he loved that close but so impossible to reach was killing him. Tony was looking for a new apartment but hadn't had any luck so far. Tony threw himself on the couch, without even opening it. Bucky and Steve walked into the room, looking at each other. "Tony" "Mh hey guys" he said without opening his eyes. "We have...We have something to tell you" Tony rolled on the couch. He was now giving them his back. "Yeah yeah, you're engaged now and you want me out of here. Don't worry, I'm already looking for a place." Steve and Bucky looked at each other. "No, quite the opposite, actually" Tony turned the head, looking at them with a questioning expression on his face. "What do you mean?" he asked, sitting up. The two men sat on the couch, one on each of Tony's sides. Steve took one of his hands and Bucky put his hand on Tony's knee. "We've been talking, Bucky and I, and since we met you it's like something is missing in our life" "We're always worried about you and when you're not here, it feels empty" Tony was confused. "I've always felt like something was missing in this relationship- Steve pointed at him and Bucky- and I really think that it was a reason if we were sold the same apartment-" "Destiny. Steve is talking about destiny. What we're trying to say is this. Tony you are what was missing between us." Bucky moved his hand higher on Tony's tight. "We love you, Tones" "We both love you" added Steve, interviewing his hand with Tony's. "And I'm pretty sure that you have the same feeling for us, don't you?" Tony nodded, relaxing under his men's touch. "We want you Tony" said Bucky before kissing his neck. Tony let out a loud moan. "I want you too. The both of you" Steve let go of his hand. "Come here baby. Show me how much you want me" Bucky and Tony exchanged a lustful look before Tony climbed on Steve's lap, throwing his arms around his neck. Steve put his hands on Tony's waist, pulling his shirt of of his pants. Tony finally kissed Steve, who looked at Bucky. Bucky scooted closer to the boys, took one of Tony's hands, kissing its back. Suddenly, Steve lifted Tony, who chuckled, and walked towards his and Bucky's bedroom. Bucky followed them and leaned against the door frame as Steve leaned Tony on the bed, bending over him to reprise their make out session. Bucky took the Polaroid camera that was standing on the dresser nearby and took a picture of his now two favorite men. He then walked over to the bed, joining the fun.

Tony was asleep with his head on Steve's chest. Bucky was caressing his hip. Steve took Bucky's had, intertwining their fingers. They smiled at each other, finally feeling complete. "I told you that everything would be fine, right?" Tony rolled over, leaning against Bucky's naked chest. "I love you guys" he mumbled. Bucky and Steve looked at each other and smiled. "Yes you did"

[reignpink]

The Night After

I slowly lift Cardan’s arm off me and gently place it on the bed as I slide off of it. I quietly walk out of our bedroom and into the parlor. I take a seat on a sofa that’s facing the window and stare out at the sky, passively watching the sun rise. I should be sleeping but I can’t despite being exhausted due to the last couple of days. The soft rays of light that emerge, bounce off objects in the room around me. I turn around and see the twin crowns glowing under the light. I get up and take my crown in my hands, the weight still surprising me slightly. I run my fingers over it gently, it was beautiful but most importantly it was mine. Just like Elfhame. After all that has happened, I am here with a crown in my hands as The High Queen and wife to none other than Cardan Greenbriar. 

“Come back to bed Jude.” Cardan whispers from behind me as he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head in the nudge of my neck.

Speak of the devil. “I will be back soon. Go on without me.” 

“Annoyingly I cannot sleep without you,” He mutters as he presses a small kiss on my neck. “So tell me what is keeping you up.” 

I gently place my crown back on the mantle next to Cardan’s. “My body is still running on the adrenaline from today’s events.” 

Cardan nods, “Let’s sit down.” He says taking my hand and guiding us back to the sofa I was previously sitting on. I lay my head on his shoulder and I feel him run his hands through my hair. “You have made to be an excellent Queen. I haven’t the chance to tell you but your punishments from the coronation were very clever and I am thoroughly impressed.”

“Thank you.” I reply softly. I don’t question the decisions I made earlier, I know they were made in the best interest of our rule for the kingdom. The people must know we can show mercy when possible but be harsh when necessary.

Before I can react Cardan flips us to where I am laying back on the couch and he’s hovering over me. I feel a small smile spread on my lips as he smirks down at me. I brush the hair from his eyes as I feel his tail grazing my legs. Sometimes when I look at Cardan, I’m still surprised at what I see. He was once as cruel and sharp as the spikes on his crown. 

“Did I tell how hideous you looked today.” He began his eyes twinkling as they searched mine. 

“No, tell me.”

“I cannot because you looked ravishing.” 

I laughed lightly before pulling him down to kiss me. Cardan returned the kiss full force then slowly started to kiss down the side of my face to my neck. I sucked in a breath. “Especially when you were crowned, I wanted to pull you away and fuck you with nothing but it on.” He says into my ear. His breath heavy and his hands were trailing further down my body. 

“Let’s get back to bed Jude and burn the remainder of this adrenaline out of you.” 

“Let’s.” I respond.

My eyes open the next morning to Cardan’s face close to mine. Our legs were intertwined under the sheets and his arm was draped over my naked body, holding me close. I lift my hand and softly push the raven black hair out of his face. I almost want to laugh. This once cruel creature who used to make my life a living hell now shares my bed and I am it’s wife no less. Wife. I despise to admit the flutter I get in my stomach when he addresses me as such. 

“Hello my darling Jude.” Cardan mutters with his eyes still closed. 

“Hello Cardan.” 

“Today will be your first official day as High Queen, are you ready.”

He is right. I have ruled as Queen for a while now but the coronation and faerie people’s blessing have solidified my standing. 

“I’m ready.” I assure him.

“I believe you are as well.” He says finally opening his eyes and sending me one of his small boyish smiles. “I have something to show you, a little first day gift.”

My brows furrow as I watch him jump out of bed squat down pulling a box that was wrapped and bowed from underneath the bed.

“Open it.” He commands laying the wrapped gift in front of me. I quickly sit up and lift the box judging its weight. Whatever’s inside isn’t light but does seem pretty firm. I slowly untie the bow and lift the lid. I run my hands over the white fluffy object then carefully pull it out. It’s a robe— wait two robes. I glance up at Cardan whose face is patiently waiting for my reaction. I flip over the robes and laugh lightly seeing the word ‘Queen’ embroidered on the front of one and ‘King’ on the other.

“I assume this one's yours.” I toss him the King robe.

“You assume correctly. Do you like the gift?” He asks while pulling his robe on.

“I didn’t know what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this.”

“So you don’t like it?”

“Oh no, I love it. Truly. Thank you.”

“I am pleased. I got the idea while at your sister’s house in the mortal word. It works perfectly with the next part of my surprise.”

I raise a brow at him, “Next part?”

“Of course! Come follow me.” Cardan holds out his hand for me to take. I shake my head, smiling at him, as I pull on the robe before climbing off the bed and taking his hand.

He leads us through our bedroom and into the foyer, stopping at a door on the opposite side.

“You can hang your robe in here.” He says before tossing open the door. I don’t stop the gasp that escapes my lips as I look around the grand room. It was a bathroom, and a beautiful one at that. I slowly walk inside, my eyes moving across the room. The tub, which  resembled a jacuzzi, was giant and could easily fit the both of us plus sum was in the corner closest to the door. A slim wall divided it from a separate shower which had a nozzle attached to the ceiling making it a rain shower. A toilet sat in the other corner. The counter had a sink on one side and a vanity on the other where a ton of products already sat. The bathroom had a black and white theme with gold accents marking all through it. It was absolutely gorgeous, I love it. I turn back towards Cardan with a giant smile on my face.

“You really did this all for me?” I ask quietly.

Cardan pushes off the door frame and walks further into the bathroom till he was right in front of me. “Who else. You deserve more than a small washroom with a bucket in it.”

I look around at the bathroom again. Try as he might've, Madoc didn’t truly understand Taryn and I’s mortal needs so the closest we had to a bathroom was a chamberpot and a tub. Then moving into the palace where nobody cared what I needed meant I definitely didn’t have a toilet, no less a full bathroom. I hadn’t even realized that I missed having one till now.

“Thank you.” I say wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’m just glad you like it.” Cardan replies hugging me back just as tight.

We stay like that for a moment before he pulls back and lays a light kiss on top of my head, “I’ll leave you to get ready. Tatterfell should be arriving soon to help.”

I watch him walk out, his tail swinging behind him. I take a seat at the vanity and stare at my reflection. I look different. The person staring back at me is no longer the little girl who laid awake at night scared of this new world, or the girl sneaking around the shadows of a palace, or the girl who was too scared to tell the man who loved her that she loved him back. But a woman who stood in the face of a serpent, two paths, and won.

“A bathroom fit for a Queen.” Tatterfell says as she enters.

“And I need your help making me look like one.” Tonight the revels celebrating Cardan and I’s coronation would begin.

“I would like nothing else.”

Tatterfell draws a bath for me in my new tub. I take one quickly then allow her to help me into a deep blue lace gown. I took a seat at the vanity and Tatterfell immediately began her work on brushing through my hair before curling the bottom and braiding the top into my signature horns. Then she continues onto my makeup, keeping it light and natural but giving me a glowy look.

I slip out of my room into the hallways soon after.

---------

This mini story takes place the morning/night right after the coronation, so after they get back from Vivi’s and both go to sleep. I hope you enjoyed it! I do plan on continuing and hopefully making it a cohesive story about their lives after the ending off the book because I have always had a fascination of book characters lives once the story ends so I am going to write my interpretation of Jude and Cardan’s! And it won’t immediately be Jude getting pregnant, I want to more focus on what it looks like for Jude’s ruling, her relationship with Madoc and her finding out more about her birth mother, Jude bringing up the fact that Cardan will outlive her, Jude still digesting poison and Cardan’s thoughts on it, and plenty more ideas I don’t want to spoil. So let me know if this is something that you would actually have fun reading!

UPDATE 12/14/2020 - so I wrote some more and decided just too add it along with the rest and I think I might keep doing that or maybe wait till I have a whole chapter then I’ll post it to Archive of Our Own. Anyways did you like Cardan giving Jude a bathroom? Does it make sense? I just always thought about how Jude never had a really nice bathroom is Elfhame and how Cardan just wants the best for his queen so he gave her one. 

[risottoneroo]

self indulgence, pt 20

a/n: heres my first ever finished series!! fuck this has been a ride, but im glad to have done it with all of you.

warnings: weddings, crying, pregnancy mentions

The planning for your wedding passed in a blur. It would be in Sicily, in Risotto’s hometown, and in the church he had gone to growing up. His family thought he was dead, and he knew it was best to keep it that way.

Your honeymoon would be in Malta, and it would be only a week. Risotto didn’t trust his subordinates to run the newly fledging organization for longer than that. 

An increasingly obvious problem was Secco. The man had grown more and more attached to you as the days went on, and he now had a hard time being separated from you. He did wear clothes now, usually shorts and a loose t shirt, but he still had the unfortunate habit of coming to you when he was horny. 

Secco was a unique issue, and one you needed to confront. He was a grown man who acted like a particularly obedient pet, who clearly had issues that couldn’t be resolved easily, and who was a very powerful and loyal Stand user. 

Risotto would rather Secco remained attached to you than have to kill him, but he’d made it clear in no uncertain terms that Secco was not to come on the honeymoon. You agreed. You’d have to find someone who liked him. 

Your solution came when you were trying to order the invitations. Your computer kicked the bucket just as you were finishing. Fortunately, Melone was in town, and he agreed to come over and help. The moment he stepped in the door, Secco was on him like an overeager dog. Melone frowned. “And who’s this?”

You sighed. “Secco, stop! He’s Cioccolata’s former human pet. I transferred his loyalties.”

Melone swallowed. “Your Stand is very…interesting.”

You laughed. “You can say scary.”

He shrugged and leaned down to pat Secco’s head. “He’s very cute.”

Secco purred and looked pleased. “Thank you!”

Melone jumped. “Oh, you talk!”

Secco’s voice was less garbled now, since you’d worked with him on speech. Melone knelt and looked at Secco. “Do you like it here?”

Secco grinned. “I love it here. Y/N and Risotto aren’t mean to me, and they aren’t weak like Cioccolata was. And Y/N is so pretty-”

He blushed and looked down. Melone chuckled softly and stood. “He’s an interesting project, to say the least.”

You sighed. “Yeah. My issue is that he can’t exactly come on the honeymoon with us.”

Melone shrugged. “I’ll keep him.”

You blinked. “Really?”

He raised an eyebrow. “A human pet? I’d love to talk more with him.”

You shrugged. “Secco, do you want to go with Melone for a week?”

Seccon grinned. “He seems nice! Yeah.”

You shrugged again. “Okay, well, he’ll take you to his apartment after he’s done here, so go and get your things.”

Secco bounded into your room. You sat next to Melone on the couch, and he pulled up a mockup of your wedding invitations. “I knew something like this would happen, so I saved duplicates of everything on Babyface.”

You hugged him. “Thank you so much.”

He shrugged and hit a few keys, sending them to the company you were getting them from. “It’s not a problem.”

He hugged you back and smiled. “I’m happy you and Risotto are finally tying the knot.”

You pulled away and smiled back. “I am too.”

He stood, and Secco came out of your room, holding his bag. It had his changes of clothes and his toiletries, both of which you had gotten for him. Getting him to take a bath at first had been hell, but he’d eventually grown to like it. 

Melone took his hand. “I’ll take good care of him, Y/N.”

You smiled and knelt to kiss Secco’s forehead. “Be good for Melone.”

He hugged you tight and nodded. “I will.”

You hugged him back, then let go and stood. Melone nodded to you and led Secco out the door. Secco was walking normally, although it was a little bowlegged. 

You sat back down at your desk, glad that at least one of the knots in your life had been untangled. 

RIsotto came home late, looking tired. You were on the couch, typing on your laptop. When you saw him, you put it down and reached out. He pulled off his tie and fell onto your lap, groaning. “They’re so fucking stupid.”

You stroked his hair gently. “What happened?”

He shook his head. “They’ll never survive without me.”

He turned over and looked up at you. “They’re barely making it without you. With both of us gone, this whole operation might just go under.”

You sighed. “Prosciutto?”

Risotto bit his lip. “Has his hands full containing the leak. Formaggio would be able to hold it down for a few days, and with Illuso, probably a full week.”

You shrugged. “So we have some extra work at the end of the day. Not a bad thing.”

He shrugged back and stayed quiet. You kept scratching his hair, and he hummed. You smiled. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

He nodded, yawning again. You patted his head. “Go put on pajamas. You’ll wrinkle your suit.”

He rolled his eyes, and got up. “The suit isn’t even that expensive-”

You shook your head. “I like it, I don’t want it to get wrinkled.”

He stuck his tongue out playfully, and you smiled. 

You turned on the TV while he changed. You glanced into your shared room. He was down to his briefs, stretching out tired muscles. He smiled at you, and you smiled back. He pulled on a baggy tshirt and came out. “Hey.”

You held out your arms, and he laid down on you. His feet were hanging off the end of the couch, but he didn’t care.

The day of your wedding came faster than you’d expected. Risotto had stayed over at Formaggio’s place the night before, so tradition could be kept. A team of Passione aestheticians had come over early in the morning and made you up and laced you into the dress.  You sat in a chair and looked at yourself as they contoured and colored your face. The makeup was soft. You swallowed the nervousness in your throat. You were the queen, and they knew it. What had you done to get there? What would you do to stay there?

The church you were getting married in was massive. All of Passione was in attendance for the ceremony, but only a select few would be present for the reception, mostly the former members of La Squadra di Esecuzione and their new spouses or underlings. Bruno’s squad would be there as well, even Mista. Risotto had refused to budge on ordering him to attend. The final nail in his coffin, watching the woman you love become inaccessible forever. 

You were prepared to walk down the aisle alone. But when Prosciutto met you at the door and offered his arm, you were grateful. He kissed your cheek gently. “You look beautiful.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I know I have to give you away to him.”

You touched his cheek. Your heels made you taller than him. “We’re friends.”

He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

The music started, and the doors opened.

The church was beautiful, festooned in lace and white roses. The sun shone through green, white and blue stained glass, and the ceiling was high and airy.  Your train trailed behind you as you walked down the aisle with Prosciutto. 

Risotto was standing at the altar, looking angry as usual. His tuxedo was black from the skin out. The only break was his white tie. He turned to you, and his facade broke. 

His face crumpled, and he covered his face as he began to cry. You rushed the last few steps and took his wrists. “Ris, what-?”

The church was stunned. Nobody had ever seen him cry before. He pulled his hands away from his face and wiped away his tears. “Fuck. You’re beautiful. I never thought-”

You smiled weakly. “If you cry, I’ll cry. Quit it.”

He nodded and inhaled deeply. His black sclera never revealed that he’d been crying. The priest cleared his throat. “Are we ready?”

You nodded and took Risotto’s hands. The priest began. “Dearly beloved-”

You zoned out and watched Risotto’s face. He was smiling at you. He looked utterly content. You both repeated after the priest, and after your “I do’s”, he stepped back. “The couple will now state their vows to one another before God.”

Risotto swallowed hard and pulled out a stack of notecards. He blinked and looked at you. “Y/N. You are the woman I love. When I found you, I hoped against hope that someday we would be here, and I, against all odds, and all evidence to the contrary, have finally gotten something I want. Someone I want. You have risked your life to get us where we are now, but that stops here. I will keep you safe. I will make a home for you, wherever that may be.”

He swallowed hard and continued. “As I stand here, under the eyes of God and Passione, I know that I chose right. I chose you, and I will keep choosing you.”

You sniffled, and Prosciutto at your elbow handed you a handkerchief. You took Risotto’s hands. “Risotto Nero, you have been the only constant in my life for a long time. I have loved you for longer than I know, and I feel blessed every day that I’m by your side. You make me laugh and cry, rage and smile. I have risked my life for yours, as you do for mine. I would do it again in a heartbeat. You are the only man I would do this for. I chose you. I will keep choosing you.”

The priest spoke softly, but the whole church heard it. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Risotto’s lips were on your before the priest finished his sentence. You could taste salt and blood, tears and iron. His lips were crushing and desperate, his hands pulling you in close to him passionately. 

He pulled back, panting softly, and you smiled at him. “You have lipstick marks.”

He laughed and pulled away, taking your hand in his and facing the church. The priest announced, “I present to you today, under God for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Risotto Nero.”

Epilogue.

Of course it didn’t end there. Risotto rose in power and fame, eventually controlling all of Italy in his web of organized crime. He became known as “L’uomo Nero”, fitting both because of his last name and his fashion sense, as well as his sadistic taste in punishment. He was feared and respected. He never allowed anyone else to dole out punishment, and ruled with an iron fist.

Your powers, as soft as they seemed, were more feared among the organization. Rumors of you making men fall in love with a touch, then leading them into the jaws of L’uomo Nero, circulated long after you both retired. 

When Risotto turned 35, he decided he’d had enough. You retired with him to a small villa on a hill in Sicily, overlooking the beach. You stopped taking birth control, and were pregnant with twins within the year. They were born as white-haired as their father. Risotto doted on them, and on you.

You found him one day staring into the mirror at his body. When you had met him, ten years ago now, he had been slim and tall, like a tree. As he neared middle age, his body had thickened and gained muscle and fat. His belly stuck out over his shorts, and body hair had thickened on his chest and stomach. He’d raised an eyebrow at you, and you’d kissed him. He’d sighed. “I’m not the same man you married.”

You’d laughed. “I’m not the same woman. Does that mean we give up? Does that mean I don’t love you every day?”

He smiled and kissed you again. “No. It doesn’t.”

You were pregnant again the next year. Risotto’s love for you grew as his children did, and when you became pregnant again with twins, he decided it was time for a vasectomy. You agreed. 

You grew old together, watching your children play in the waves.

[saucy-sapphic]

Peonies and Poems

Wilhemina Venable x Reader

Summary: They say actions speak louder than words, but sometimes the words are so beautiful that even the faintest whisper causes your heart to melt. 

A/N:  I saw this prompt on @otpprompts​ a while back where Person A doesn’t show affection easily, but Person B loves big romantic gestures, and I had just recently watched A Secret Love, so I thought I would combine the two. The poem used within the fic is from A Secret Love. It was called Always - I’ll Remember This Night, beautifully written by Pat Henschel, therefore, all the credit goes her. Extremely huge shoutout to @make--your--life--spectacular​ for proof reading this for me and making the gif, you trully are a doll! 

Word Count: 1,819

Warnings: None

You knew Wilhemina Venable was not one for dramatic gestures or overt displays of affection. In her eyes, the world had been cruel and unrelenting, so she shielded herself from harshness that seemed to surround her. She kept what she loved close to her, afraid that if she let go for a second the world would pry it from her hands. You, however, were far too in love with her to keep quiet. Gestures, great and small, seemed to flow out of you as if you were a river of love that ran right to Wilhemina’s heart. It made her uncomfortable at first, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve and took any opportunity to show her affection. But as the days turned to weeks, and weeks turned into months she looked forward to your grand displays, although never explicitly saying it. At first you thought that you would scare her off with all the hand holding or kisses to her cheek when you were in public, but even though she would roll her eyes the smile that played at her lips told you all that you needed to know.

As Wilhemina opened the door to her office she saw a lush bouquet of flowers sitting at her desk. The various hues of purple and the fragrant scent of fresh flowers causing a toothy grin to emerge. She walked over, set her belongings on her desk, and read the card attached to the bouquet.

Xoxoxo -Y/N

She sat down to relieve the stress in her back and picked up her phone to dial you number.

“Hi, Mina!”, you answer excitedly.

“Someone’s chipper this morning, did you finally drink the coffee I made you”, she teases. “I got the surprise you sent me”, she states.

Even though she seemed calm and collected you could hear the slight excitement in her voice, “do you like them? The peonies are finally in season and I know they’re your favorite, so I had to send you some”, you rambled.

“They’re lovely, my sweet girl, and they smell divine.”

“Not as lovely as you, Mina”, you say bashfully.

The smile playing at Wilhemina’s lips widen and her heart swells, “what time are you coming home tonight, my dear?”

“I’m not sure, Mina. We have back to back meetings today and we’re still trying to finalize the contract with an investor”, you sigh knowing that you have a long day ahead of you. “I might be home a little later than usual tonight, love”, you regrettably reply.

“That’s alright, my dear. I’ll have something waiting for you when you get home”, she replies, hopping to hear the bright tone return in your voice.

“Oh, Mina, you’re too good to me”, you giggle out.

“Nonsense, darling”, Wilhemina teases. “I’ll see you at home, little one”.

After you both hang up Wilhemina lets out a contented sigh, the perfume from the flowers wafting around her. She thinks about all the times you have done something wonderful for her and can’t help but feel inadequate when it comes to showing her love for you. You were always so good at it; it came so naturally to you but being that open and unguarded was difficult for Wilhemina.

As the workday progressed and she got home, the thought of being inadequate kept gnawing at the back of Wilhemina’s mind. As she was setting the plates and placed the food she had carefully crafted onto the table, she heard the front door open. She turned to see you taking off your coat and toeing off your heels. Her eyes dancing across your body, appreciating the way your dress hugged every curve just right. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Wilhemina stop to admire you causing you to melt.

“Hi, honey”, you say as you turn to her fully. Taking in the sight in front of you, your breath hitches, and your heart soars as you see what Wilhemina has done. Your favorite food had been prepared and placed elegantly at the table before you and your eyes spot your favorite bottle of wine resting in a small bucket left to chill. Candles had been lit and placed perfectly throughout the room and jazz music played softly in the background. After absorbing the picture-perfect scene before you, your eyes returned to the woman who was responsible for it all.

“Mina”, you breathed out.

A slight blush played at her cheeks as she observed your state of awe. “Hello, my sweet girl. Go wash up and I’ll finish setting the table”.

As you make your way to the sink you stop by Wilhemina to place a soft kiss on her cheek, causing her to blush further. After you return, Wilhemina pulls your chair and waits for you to sit down before doing so herself.

“Mina, you really didn’t have to do all of this”, you say, still in awe of what was in front of you.

“It was nothing”, she mumbles out as she begins to serve the food.

You place a hand on her arm to stop her, wanting her full attention. “Mina, this is so lovely, thank you”. The smile she flashes at you causes your heart to swell with pride.

The amount of love Wilhemina saw on your face almost made her heart leap right out of chest. “You are more than welcome, my dear.”

Taking the first bite you let out an exaggerated moan, stating “oh my god, Mina, this tastes incredible”, shortly after.

She lets out a giggle that warms your heart. The rest of the dinner is sat in comfortable silence apart from the music playing in the back. As the two of you finish your meal, you turn to gaze at the woman who held your heart, a contented grin dancing across your lips.

“What are you thinking about, little one”, Wilhemina asks happily.

“I was just thinking about how tonight has been divine and how lucky I am to have such an intelligent, caring, and beautiful woman like you to pamper me.”

Wilhemina lets out a throaty laugh, causing you to smile even wider. “Oh, my dear girl, I think I should be saying those things to you”, she says while placing her hand softly on your cheek. “You constantly do so much for me and show me how much you love me, I just wanted to try to show you the same”, she confesses.

You turn to place a kiss on her palm and melt further into her touch. Looking back at her loving face you reply, “Mina, you show me every day”.

Wilhemina tilts her head in confusion, “what do you mean, darling? You and I both know I’m hardly one for flamboyant displays.”

You giggle at her comment before stating, “well, you show me every morning when you make me coffee before you leave, the way you give me your undivided attention while I speak, the way you take time to ask about my day; you show me by kissing me good morning and by mumbling sweet nothings in my ear until I fall asleep at night.”

Wilhemina smiles fondly, rubbing her thumb across your cheek. “That’s nothing compared to the flowers you send or the dinners you make me almost every night, my dear.”

“Oh, Mina, they may not seem like much to you, but they mean everything to me”, you say as you lean in to kiss her. As you pull back a thought flashes through your mind, “wait here”.

Wilhemina curiously looks after you as you make your way to your shared bedroom. After a minute or so you comeback with a small shoe box that she has never seen before. You place the box in front of her smiling ear to ear. “Open it”, you whisper.

She looks up at you utterly confused as she sees hundreds of papers folded within the box. “Go on, read one”, you say excitedly has you move to sit in her lap.

As Wilhemina unfolds one of the papers she immediately recognizes her handwriting and gasps quietly. It was a love letter she had written to you when you first started dating. She began to unfold paper after paper, her eyes scanning through every letter, poem, and note that she had written. She looked up at you with tears rimming her eyes. “You kept them”, she asked, her voice emotional and barely above a whisper.

“All of them”, you beam back at her before kissing her temple. You pepper her face with soft kisses, journeying to place a delicate kiss on her lips. She moves her free hand to caress your neck as she deepens the kiss, while the other hand continues to hold the letters. You both pull away breathless and smiling.

“See, you do show me. The ways you show me are more precious than any flower and are far more romantic than any grand gesture”, you say as you go to stand and clear the table smiling.

Once the tabled had been cleared and the two of you had gotten ready for bed, you pull the covers back for you and Wilhemina to climb into. She sits with her back to the headboard and you lay cuddled into her side. “Mina, will you read to me? Please?”, you yawn out.

“Of course, my sweet one”, she says as she opens the book on her nightstand. As she gets halfway through the page she feels you kiss her hip, moving closer to her and draping your arm across her thighs. By the time she finishes the second page you are fast asleep, your breathing deep and even. Wilhemina sets her book back on top of the nightstand and opens the drawer. She pulls out and unfolds an old, warn out piece of paper. Holding the paper in one hand and stroking your hair gently with the other, she fondly looks at your sleeping form. “I wrote this the night we first met, my love. But I was too afraid to give it to you then”, she whispers.

Turning to look at the paper she reads,

“It might have been just one more walk

Beneath a moonlit hue.

But darling, it meant everything

Because I walked with you.

 It might have been just one more night

A single night of seven.

My darling, you were there with me

‘Twas one more night of heaven.”

Wilhemina paused feeling you stir, turning she laid the piece of paper gently back in the drawer. Scooting down so your faces were leveled, she placed the softest kiss on your lips before whispering,

“On we sauntered seldom speaking

As we passed through moonlight lane.

Happiness welled there inside me

When you smiled and called my name.

 Hours fled like winged moments

Hand in hand we walked alone.

‘Twas one night I shall remember,

One more night to call my own.”

[runningw-thewolves]

Why am I sharing this? Well, here’s why.

Loki first started sending signs to me in like, January, I think? Now, I had been working with Fenrir since November of last year, and I was really comfortable with Fenrir. Loki on the other hand. I had done some light reading and it seems that the way things were worded made it seem like Loki had bits in common with my abuser. So, naturally, my anxiety went rocketing past Mars and I was absolutely terrified of the mere idea of working with Loki, worshipping him, just straight up scared of him cause my anxiety decided to hit ‘Red Alert’.

It was in March when he sent more signs that I finally decided the only way to get the right information is to take the plunge and talk with other Loki followers/worshippers/Lokeans and... oh boy. That night when I joined a Loki chat, I had a full blown panic attack. I can confidently say the worst one I’ve ever experienced. My entire body was shaking to the point that my back was sore. My throat was dry and my eyes couldn’t stop streaming with tears as I tried to make sense of the cacophony of noise in my mind and type it with hands barely able to stay still. Thankfully, someone was on and they helped calm me down and gave me reassurance about Loki. Eventually, when I calmed down enough that I was more present in my mental state, I think I heard someone speak. “Wow. He fucked you up, didn’t he?”

I believe that was a Saturday evening, perhaps? So on Monday, I invoked Fenrir and asked him to assist me in communicating with Loki. I had two candles lit - one for Fenrir, one for Loki. I had brought up I believe some chicken for Fenrir as an offering, a sort of pay for helping me communicate with Loki. So, I started talking and admitted I was straight up nervous about what I was doing. I explained my worries and concerns - stemming from child abuse, which lead to me developing depression, anxiety and PTSD alongside having been born Autistic. I attempted to use tarot, which failed miserably and I could sense an audible sigh so I used my ‘last resort’ technique of asking a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ question and giving each direction (left or right) one of those answers and watching the flame. It works as a last resort, and it’s what I use as a last resort. I made a compromise with Loki on one of my concerns, which I might talk about another day, and asked him if he was OK with it - he said yes. I also proposed a grace period with Loki, so I can get to know him more casually. Again, I asked if he was alright with this, and he agreed.

Now, in that time, everything has changed. That tension and anxiety has mostly melted away - it still rears its head every now and then, but what can you do? I went from straight up terrified of Loki to not being able to see my journey without him and his family. I’ve been learned so much, about not just my present but also my past. And it seems that childish wish that young 5 year old me wished did in fact come true, just not how I imagined. I always wanted my abuser’s approval as a child, cause I loved him. Of course, he never loved me though. I wanted to know what it was like to have a loving father you could run to when everything was going wrong. All I had known was being shouted out, belittled, berated and degraded, blackmailed and threatened left, right and centre. So when I realised I had begun to see Loki as what I had always dreamed of as a child - what I saw in the movies and books - my anxiety came back. I felt I was overstepping a boundary, like I was forcing myself into a family. It ate at me for several weeks, but I eventually told Loki. I finally admitted to him - after several minutes of hesitation from rejection and abandonment issues - that I had begun to see him as the father my own should’ve been. I think for a split second he was stunned, surprised even, but that quickly changed into care. I was crying bucket loads, so I can see why. What was the strangest part was after I had admitted to it. He gave me a little nickname; “daughter”. He said it twice, and both times I was sat in silence for a solid minute, processing. It was this evening the little ‘We sang the theme song of Bolt’ incident happened.

Now, just around the beginning of me opening up to him, Stray Kids’ Changbin and Felix released a song. Loki was practically screaming at me to listen to it so I did. I had first thought it was in regards to Sigyn - “I know you love your wife, dude. You don’t need to tell me about it.” Now though, I’ve come to realise he wasn’t talking about Sigyn. He was talking about me. Somehow, he knew that they were releasing the song and it described his thoughts about me and got me to listen to it. “Those sparkling eyes of yours, overwhelming with joy, they become waterfalls if I were to make a wrong move, I’m so terrified that I could end up hurting you, because I really like you.” “I love your genuine, heart-bared, honest eyes, and how you’re fucking shit at telling lies.” “I love how your face says it when you simply won’t, how you can’t hide when you’re feeling like shit.” It’s a not-so-well-hidden secret of mine that my emotions are easily translated on my face. You can tell when I’m hurting pretty damn easily. What hit me weeks later when speaking with some mates I made in the Loki chat was the meaning. “I’m so terrified that I could end up hurting you.” In other words; “I’m terrified that if I do something that reminds you of your father, you won’t trust me anymore.” It puts into perspective why he’s been so patient, why he has been just so careful with me. So, in a way this song is my response.

“Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love (family) never lasts, and we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone and keep a straight face. And I’ve always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance, and up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness. Cause none of it was ever worth the risk, but darling, you are the only exception.” There will always be a place for my grandfather deep in my heart - the father-figure I did have in my youth - and that will never change. But even he couldn’t help heal the deep scar of having a father who was just shitty through and through. Loki, on the other hand? I’m not sure if one can sense this, but I can feel that wound closing up. Loki understands so much about my traumas, my aspirations, fears and dreams. He has seen my hurt, listened to my hurt, and I always get the feeling that he listened properly. Properly tuned in. I’m still getting used to it. The one thing I’ve come to love the most about Loki is how when I’m depressed, he knows just what I am needing in that exact moment; a hug. I can tell when he’s hugging me cause he’s done it so damn much. Even when I had managed to anger him and I was practically eroding myself with guilt, he still gave me a hug. I can always hear his whisper when I’m upset. “It’s OK. You’re OK.” The only downside is I can tell he is hugging me cause my back and shoulders start getting sore for no explicable reason - and trust me, I’ve tested how the pain manifests multiple times and it still doesn’t have any explanation. It’s not that bad though - it’s actually really reassuring.

I said to myself I’d make my decision at the end of April. And well, it pretty much is. And this won’t be the first or last time Loki reads over my shoulder (hi!). At this point, to say ‘No’ would kill me, destroy me from the inside. So, I guess my answer is rather obvious then; of course. I don’t want this journey to end yet. I’m sure Vali will be happy to hear that. LOL But I guess it’s official now, huh? Would ‘Lokean’ be the right term? For now, I don’t know. But of course I’ll work with Loki. The sly rascal he is, getting me this attached. LOL Still, I can’t complain. I wonder if Sigyn was also calling out to me like my mate suggested; I’m sure you probably know, don’t ya, Loki? Well, I guess I better prepare for the entire family swarming the house like this is The Addams Family. So, here’s to the journey and where it goes next.

[jupitators-queen]

The night creature||Part.3

A/N: part.3 is here! finally.. i have been working on it for quiet some time now so i’m finally dropping it. I am very busy, but i’ll try to produce part.4 sooner. Anyways, enjoy :).

Warnings: this is angsty (somewhat).

Characters: Choi yeonjun, Areum(reader), Hyunjin(brother).

part.1 part.2 part.3 part.4

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

"I'll explain, I promise" yeonjun softly spoke.

He extended his hand out in front of her "what?" she questioned him "hold my hand, I'll show you" she was hesitant at first but she ended up holding his hand anyways, she was far too curious to not do so. She wanted to know the truth and have all of her questions answered. 

*seeing flashback* It was many years ago, when yeonjun and the twins first met. They were still kids at the time, and the next door neighbours were yeonjun's family. They played together in front of their houses or in the nearby playground everyday.

Yeonjun grew very attached to areum as she played more with him than hyunjin did, hyunjin was a bit wary of him but he still let loose and had fun with both of them. He was also suspicious of yeonjun, he didn't know why but him and his family seemed weird and not like a normal one, none the less he didn't say much cause yeonjun seemed nice and never hurt them.

Yeonjun and areum were very happy playing together when they were young but soon after yeonjun started to really like areum. His father was aware that he liked the girl, and even though kids feelings and emotions are very pure, he refused to accept them. They moved from a place to another a lot, he feared that his son would get attached to people since he's an only child and that it might weaken him when he gets older. 

This time around he couldn't stop fate from happening, he saw his son play with the next door neighbours and grow attached to them by the day, it was stressful but he knew it would come to an end very soon. Yeonjun also knew that this dreadful day was coming even if he prayed every night that he would never see it, it still came over to him painfully soon.

"Yeonjun, promise me we'll be friends forever" the young girl said as she filled her bucket with sand "I promise you'll always be my friend even if we don't get to be together everyday" yeonjun answered as he looked at her with a small smile "why are you talking as if you'd suddenly disappear?" The young girl chuckled at him. He knows they won't always be together because of 'what' he is but he still wanted to hold onto this feeling, this moment for as long as possible, for even forever. "Yeonjun you have one week to erase her memories of you" the father spoke sternly "w-why?! I love her and I want to be with her even whe-" "no yeonjun you cannot be with a human" his heart broke hearing his fathers words "why can't I? My mother is half human and you’re fine with it!" he growled deciding to try to fight back "only half and that was difficult enough for me to accept! There is no way I'm going to accept a full human!" His heart shattered as he knew his father won't listen to him or ever accept his love interest. He sadly dragged his feet on the ground until he reached the playground, he sat on the swing crying his heart out until he couldn't cry anymore. He stood up with a resolve, that he's going to make it happen no matter what, he will be with areum. Maybe not now, but when he's strong enough he will. On the last day of their stay he decided to finally say goodbye, he brought a bracelet with him and gave it to her "woah this is so pretty!" She smiled widely at him "its still too big on you so keep it safe until you grow up enough to wear it" he instructed her softly "I'll cherish it forever, thank you yeonjun" she wrapped her arms around him in a greatful hug, he hugged her back holding in his tears.

It was finally time for him to erase her memories, he paused at first, he wanted her to remember him as much as he will, he wanted all the special memories they had together to be saved in their heads forever... But maybe not now. He made it a promise upon himself that he will keep these memories safe and sound with him and that he will share them with her once they're together again. "I'm so sorry, I promise I'll come back to you areum" he whispered as he cried silently on her shoulder "yeonjun?" She felt concerned but suddenly the world started spinning "yeon-" everything went black. He held her in his arm as his tears blurred his vision. He took a deep breath softly putting her head on his folded jacket and left. Hyunjin stepped out of the house with two cups of juice for him and his sister only to see her laying unconscious on the ground "AREUM-AH!" He ran over to her panicked he shook her and she slowly got up "are you crazy?! Why are you sleeping out here?!" he scolded her, panicked "I don't know, I suddenly felt my head spin so I just fell asleep I guess... Was I with someone?! I don't remember" she rubbed her eyes to wake herself up "areum you-"  his words cut off by the sound of a car, he saw the car leave the neighboring house and when he looked closer he saw the boy in the back seat silently crying with a straight stoic face.

He understood why the boy is sad but that was a secret that he knew he had to keep deep down.

*end of flashback*

Areum opened her eyes with a gasp, and when she looked at yeonjun she realized that she had been crying with him feeling his pain. And even feeling more pain herself for still having the bracelet and the jacket with her to this day.

Growing up she didn't understand why they were so special to her and why she couldn't let go of them but now she knew, now she understood.

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

This was a long one, so i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. 

[emptypringlescanister]

New Perspective: Chapter 3

Sorry for the late upload, i just finished finals recently so i’m trying to catch up on lost sleep. Anyways, here’s chapter 3 of New Perspective! See the end for additional notes and the tag list.

Tom Nook x Reader

Slow Burn

Warnings: Spoilers for Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Words: 1.8K

Links: Prologue  -  Chapter 1  -  Chapter 2  -  Chapter 3 (You are here!)

Any photos or gifs do not belong to me, Animal Crossing: New Horizons does not belong to me. Only my writing belongs to me.

gif originally posted by @k-eke

Animal Crossing: New Perspective

Chapter 3

             Despite last night’s events still ping ponging off the walls in your head, noting about the day seemed too out of the ordinary. The air was bright and crisp, and the fish were biting. Biting as though they might be starving because you just pulled your sixth fish out of the water with a mighty tug of your fishing pole. “Another sea bass…” the grumble left your lips as you slipped the fish into the bucket at your feet. The common fish usually weren’t too bad to catch, but it started to get tiring after pulling one out for the fifth time in a row. Your next cast into the water was interrupted by loud, cheerful shouts of your name coming through the trees.

           Two small tanuki children burst through the trees and crash into you; the sudden weight causes all three of you to tumble back into the water of the stream with a large splash. Sputtering to the surface and wading your way back to the bank, the kids have the decency to look shameful, but the hilarity of the situation sets in, and soon laughter fills the air. “Well now that we’ve all had our baths,” you gasp for breath through your giggles, “What can I do for you two?”

           Still breathless, Tommy managed to speak first. “Dad gave us three Nook Miles tickets for a trip to a nearby island and we want you to come with us!” Sitting up and pushing wet hair out of your eyes, you grin at them. “Well wasn’t that nice of him. Is… he coming too?” you ask hesitantly. “Nope,” Timmy says, “He said he has to do paperwork with Blathers today so he’s gonna be busy.” You nod to yourself; it would make sense since he was the head of the island, and would have to spend time taking care of important things like that. Unbeknownst to you, Timmy and Tommy share a look with each other.

           “Well!” you exclaim. “We better get dried off and get going then! No time to waste.” The boys squeal in excitement rush to help you bring your things to your tent and grab any tools you may need on your trip. Soon enough with their help, everything is ready and you all head over to the airport. “Hey Orville.” You greet the dodo behind the counter who snaps his book shut at your approach. “Hey hey hey! Welcome to your one and only gateway to the skies, the Avviare Airport! What can I help you guys with today?” Timmy bolts up to the counter and all but throws Orville the three tickets. “We want fly!” He shouts, almost visibly vibrating with excitement. Tommy is grasping your hand with his paw, but is bouncing in place, equally as excited as his brother. “Roger!” Orville chuckles at him. “Let’s get you all airborne then!” He takes the tickets and inputs the information onto the computer. “Dodo One, this is Dodo Tower, Wilbur, you copy?” He speaks into his headset, “Got some walkers who need wings, over.” Seeming satisfied with the response he gets; he turns to you all and nods. “Alright, you’re all set to go! Timmy and Tommy, can you guys tell me what you think when you need to travel?” The kids stare at him for a minute before Tommy pipes up. “What would dodos do?”

           “Exactly!” Orville cheers. “And for that Tommy, you get to board first!” Tommy beams up at you and you grin back, ushering him forward to the small hallway leading to the plane. Timmy follows, hot on his heels as they race to get good seats by a window. You share a smile and wave goodbye to Orville, following after the overeager little tanukis. Entering the plane, you greet Wilbur, who is occupied with convincing the kids to stop racing around the cabin and get into their seats so he could take off. “Timmy, Tommy,” you warn, giving them the parent look. That gets them to stop and they sheepishly take their seats, leaving one open between them for you. Wilbur shoots you a thankful glance and starts up the plane. Take off is smooth and soon enough you level out in the sky.

           Tommy settles down and snuggles into your side, lulled by the humming of the plane and the low lights of the cabin. Timmy occupies the time by asking questions about the island you would be visiting for the day. He was very curious about what different bugs and flowers would be on the island, as well as different fish that may lurk in the waters. You entertain him and playfully make up different species of animals that may be on this island or even the next. He seems enamored with the idea and jots down each different thing into a little notebook he carried with him. He shows you some of the entries in the first pages and they are filled with detailed drawings and entries of some of the diverse bugs, fish, and flora around Avviare. “Timmy, this is amazing!” you gush, astonished by the amount of detail filling the pages. Timmy bushes. “Tommy does the drawings, and Blathers helps me with any information I may be missing. He won’t help me with the bugs though cause he’s scared of them.”

           “Blathers should consider employing you instead of your Dad,” you tease, poking him in the stomach. His giggles wake his brother, who sleepily lifts his head. “Are we there yet?” he yawns. Just as you look out the window to check, Wilbur’s voice crackles to life over the cabin speakers. “Alright travelers! We’ll be landing shortly so make sure you’re buckled up.” Checking your seatbelts, you all settle in for the landing.

 _______________________________________________________________

           “Wow!” you exclaim, seeing the natural unkempt beauty of the island. Its smaller than Avviare, but still lush with trees and flowers. Timmy races off and starts exploring immediately, notebook and pencil in hand. Tommy remains closer to your side, choosing to just look around instead. “Look!” he gasps, tugging on your hand and pointing over to an area across the river. A campfire is burning, and a figure can be seen walking around. “Come on, lets go see who that is,” you urge. One small vault over the river later, Tommy and you walk up to a brown and yellow tiger with a blue dress and greet her.

           “Hiii! Fab to meet you! I’m Bangle! Are you visiting from another island too?”

           “Hello,’ you greet back, smiling. “I’m _____ and this is Tommy. His brother Timmy is off somewhere looking at bugs. We’re from Avviare; we’re just visiting for the day.”

           “Avviare? Oh! You mean the brand-new island that just got settled! Word travels fast around these parts. Wow, that’s a big trip just to come hang out with me on this neat little island! We should get to know each other while you’re here!”

           You nod, eager to make a new friend. “Tommy, why don’t you go help your brother with his research? I’m sure he could use an extra pair of paws.” Tommy nods and quickly hugs you before running off to find his brother. “He’s sooo cute!” Bangle gushes, watching him go. “Are they yours?”

“Oh gosh no, you sputter, “They’re my… friend’s children.” Bangle nods understandingly. “They seemed to have attached themselves to you though. I’ve only seen little Tommy’s interaction with you, but I can already tell that they love you! How adorable!” You blush, but your smile widens with her words.

           Bangle sighs contentedly and stretches. “The only thing better than kicking back and chilling on an island would be… TO DO IT FOREVER! If I lived on an island, I’d be the calmest, chillest tiger pop star ever!” An idea sparks in your head. “Bangle, you could move to our island? We only have three residents including me, and it would be great for you and Avviare if you moved in.”

           “Ohmigosh, move to Avviare? Yesss!!!” Bangle gasps and squeals excitedly. “I could move to any old island, but this is way better since you’ll be there! You hear that world? I’m…-” She spins in a circle before doing a cute pose. “- moving to Avviare!!” You clap for the excited tiger who is now muttering about moving plans under her breath. “If you call Tom Nook, he should be able to get everything sorted out for you.” You send her the business number for Nook Inc as well as your number for her to call when she gets ready to move in. “Thank you so much _____!” Bangle gushes, capturing you in a tight hug. You wheeze slightly from the pressure but hug her back.

  _______________________________________________________________

           The day on the island passes relatively quickly after that and soon dusk is permeating the island. Pockets laden down with various things you had collected from the island, both you and the boys made your way back to Wilbur who was waiting with the plane. He chuckles when he sees your tired forms approaching. “Home it is then?” he asks, looking at you three over the top of his aviators. Timmy and Tommy yawn while you nod. “The boys have had a full day and so have I.”

           “Roger that! Climb aboard sleepyheads,” he teases. “Let’s get you all home.”

 _______________________________________________________________

             Adding ‘Child Carrier’ to your list of self-appointed jobs seemed on the table as you had one tanuki child held in each arm. Both were fast asleep, having passed out shortly after takeoff. Walking was a bit of a chore with the three extra bags you had to carry as well but waking them up was no bueno. When you came up to the sandy portion of the main area of Avviare, Nook exited the Resident Services tent to greet you. He opened his mouth upon seeing you carrying the sleeping twins, but you shushed him before he could speak. Nook shook his head in exasperated fondness and gently slid one of the boys from your arms into his as well as taking one of the bags. He motioned with his head to another nearby tent that housed him and the twins when they weren’t working during the day.

           Luckily you and Nook were able to put Timmy and Tommy to bed without them waking. Nook exited the text and you followed, but not before pressing a quick kiss to each of the boys’ heads. Zipping the tent behind you, you stand and stretch, joints popping with satisfying noises. “I take it you all had an exciting day?” Nook observed, watching you with amusement. “Oh definitely, it was wonderful. The boys did some great research and I managed to collect a lot of resources for here.”

           Nook nodded along as you both walked along the beach and you entertained him with some of the antics that went on throughout the day. Night had fallen by this point and the moon was out, casting soft light down. Crickets chirped and a breeze whistled through the island. Nook walked you back to your tent and you part with a hug. As you get ready for bed, you find a note in your pocket from Tom. “You look beautiful :) “ it reads, and you fall asleep, clutching the note close to your chest.

________________________________________________________________

There’s the end of chapter 3! This one is shorter than the other but took me a lot longer to write. My brain is kinda shot from school but hopefully ill have some longer chapters for you all coming up.

Thanks everyone so much for reading! If you’d like, go check out my other works on my page. My uploading schedule is a little inconsistent, but thanks to summer break coming up, I’m hoping to post maybe every other day.

Requests are open!! Send me a message or send me an Ask.

Ask if you want to be added to the tag list!

 Tag list for New Perspective

@accio-zara

@themagpiewitchescorner

[dreamingofmilk]

Prompt: cockwarming MBaku or Thor

We had so much fun writing this!, we hope you like it! Thank you so much for sending the request.

All that you could hear was the rain hitting the window pane. Your eyes fixed on your phone screen as you lay in you and your husband’s California king bed, your ears listened to the hard rain outside. It had been raining all day and most of last night, but you didn’t mind the rainy day, in fact, you enjoyed the natural sounds it gave off.

From the constant rush of rain to the sound of the happy toads and frogs when the rain let up a little. You were at your most relaxed when it was raining like this, so you tried your best to enjoy it.

Despite your other senses focusing on the atmosphere around you, all you could feel was your husband under you. And you were thoroughly enjoying it, but from the grunt of your husband you felt like he was enjoying it more, even though he was asleep. You adjusted yourself on top of him, whimpering quietly at the delicious stretch his dick provided. His hands quickly gripped your hips. His thick fingers digging into your skin.

Thor groaned at your slight movement. His hands instinctively reaching up to grab your hips. Only the God of thunder could make you weak even in his sleep. He thrusted up slightly, causing all your nerves to stand at attention. A cry left your lips at the movement, you couldn’t breath with how good he felt within you.

You squirmed, uncontrollably clenching around him.

His rough voice broke the silence, “I believe I told you not to move last night, little one.” He lifted you up slightly then dropped you back down, his thumb brushing your clit, a small lightning static charge almost brought you to orgasm.

“That’s not fair. When you do things like that, I can’t help it.” You squirmed, clenching around him.

“It’s not.” Thor chuckled then brushed a soft finger across your face. “But you look so pretty just sitting here on my dick. So full of me.” He caressed your stomach. “You feel, ugh, you feel so good too.” Thor felt you tighten around him at his words. “Besides, aren't you the one who wanted to sit calmly and listen to the rain?”

You did want to lay with your husband and listen to the rain, but being stuffed full of him didn’t sound like a good idea, especially if you couldn’t ride him the way you wanted. But whatever Thor wanted he got, especially if he ripped your panties off and rubbed your clit to an orgasm.

So here you sat full of him all night.

“Well.” You shifted on him ready to break his rules because it felt like he would be bringing you to another orgasm with just his zippy fingers on your clit. And honestly you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I need you to fuck me. Not just bask in my warmth.” Thor smiles broadly at you and thrusted into you gently. Then with more force. His strokes constant and powerful, you couldn’t help the sounds that slipped from your lips.

“Whatever you want my love.” It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach your climax as you had both been on edge for a long time. But when you came twice you almost lost it. A tear streamed down your face, causing Thor to smile as he coated your walls with his cum. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You rolled your eyes when you felt him get hard again.

You both settled down again for several minutes, just basking in each other’s company. Your peace was ruined when you felt a drop on your head, then another, followed by another fat drop on your scalp. You looked up at the ceiling only to be blinded by another water drop.

You quickly stood from the bed, despite Thor’s protests, and grabbed one of your cleaning buckets from under the bathroom sink. Putting it in place, the steady drops of water into the bucket did nothing to calm your nerves.

“Fuck.” You whispered to yourself.

Thor stands in all his naked glory and embraces you. “I’ll never understand why you wanted this house. I have more than enough money to get you the house of your dreams.”

You shrugged, “This will be my dream home. It just felt right. Don’t worry about the leak, I’ll take care of it. There’s a bucket.” Thor nods and heads into the bathroom to get freshened up.

You walk as quietly as you can into Thor’s upstairs tool closet and get the items you think you’ll need to fix the roof and another bucket.

You grab a step stool from the laundry room and place it in the right spot to reach the main leaky area.

“Stop.” Thor’s authoritarian voice stops you in your tracks. You hand flies to your stomach protectively.

“I was just going to do it myself.” You say meekly as Thor approaches you and glances up at the ceiling. He quietly takes the items from your hand and climbs the step stool to start the work.

“You would not have even been able to reach this anyway. What were you thinking?” Thor starts patching up the roof the best he can.

“That our roof was leaking.” You respond with a slight attitude. “You didn’t seem all that motivated to fix it.”

“Yes my love, because everyday there is something wrong with this house. And I’ve told you before and will say it again. I do not want to raise our child here. It’s not safe for you or the baby.” Thor glances down at you and points at a tool he needs.

You glance at your three month pregnant belly and sigh. He was right. You just fell in love with the house and the idea of being able to make it a home for the three of you.

“I know you love the house, my love. But… I just.” You cut him off.

“I know. I made a mistake. I had these grand dreams of you and I working together to build this house into something wonderful. But I know now we can’t make it work.”

You smile sadly while looking at the poorly decorated room. The walls were bare because you wanted to paint them. The carpet needed to be ripped up and replaced. And the furniture had nothing on it because you wanted to make it easier for things to be moved out for when you finally chose your hardwood floor.

Thor’s fingers gently touched your chin forcing you to look at him.

“My love, I’ll do anything you ask of me. You know I’ll move the world for you. But this.” He gestured to the house around you. “Not right now. Please.” His large hand cupped your cheek. You sighed and closed your eyes finding comfort in the warmth of your large husband.

“Okay. I’ll move the world for you too. And as much as I love this house. I love you more. So we can look for something else.” You smile up at your husband.

5 Years Later

“Okay, my love, keep your eyes closed It’s just a few more steps.” You kept your hand wrapped tight with your son’s. His giggles brought a smile to your face. As promised you and Thor bought a beautiful new home in the suburbs. It was far more expensive than you planned, but Thor insisted that it was one of the most important purchases you would ever make. The home you would raise your family in. Of course he was right, and you definitely got used to the modern amenities.

Thor held your other hand as he led you down the sidewalk. You could hear birds and tree branches rustling but you had no idea where he was taking you. He finally stopped and held you steady as he untied the blindfold behind your head.

“Ok, beautiful. Open your eyes.”

In front of you stood an adorable little cottage. It was the perfect blend of old charm and new construction. The garden out front was perfectly done, you could smell the sweet aroma of the flowers from the sidewalk. You didn’t understand why Thor brought you here though.

“Baby, I don’t understand, what are we doing here?”

His smile was bright, “Did you forget your dream home so quickly, my love?”

And just like that everything clicked. The long hours Thor spent on the weekends getting work done, the constant questions about furniture and color palettes, and architecture. Your eyes welled up at the thought.

“You… all this time you’ve been…”

He pulled you into his arms, “You said this was your dream home. It just wasn’t the right time back then. I said I would move the world for you. Fixing up a house kind of pales in comparison.”

Parker started jumping excitedly next to you. “Hugs hugs!”

Thor chuckled and picked him up, kissing his cheeks until Parker dissolved into a fit of giggles. “That’s right, son. There are going to be a lot of hugs in this house, and hopefully, a lot of little sisters and brothers.” Thor wiggled his eyebrows, his eyes full of humor.

“Yay! I’ll be a good big brother! Can we please momma?”

You could never say no to him. His eyes were just like his father’s. You snuggled your son, your eyes glaring at your husband as he laughed.

“We’ll see buddy. Let’s go pick out your room.”

That was all the four year old needed to hear. He shot off toward the front door, you and Thor following behind him as a much slower pace.

You looked over at your husband, “Want to explain why my son is begging for a baby?"

Thor smirked, “I may or may not have shown him the nursery. He got really attached to the idea of a little sister."

"Of course he did. Seriously though, thank you for all of this. I'll never be able to thank you enough."

Thor scoffed, "Just grow with me forever in this house. That's all I want, Y/N."

You smiled, "Of course, but if the roof leaks, I'm leaving you."

Thor's booming laugh carried through the home, the sound softened your heart in a way you'd never felt before.

"Deal."

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @aislinnsilver @marvelmaree @wawakanda-btch

[lunnanunna]

Undercover

iKON Extra Member AU

Summary: One of Bao’s many secret rendezvous with Hanbin.

Warnings: slight swearing

Taglist: @hyunmijung​ @galacticstxrdust​ @kimonmars​ @soobinssmile​

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

Requests are open! Please let me know what you think.

Bao sat in the back of a bbq restaurant owned by a friend of hers, Jihoon. It was a small whole in the wall that not many people knew about, but that’s why she liked it. The place gave off almost a bit of a cold and damp vibe, but was actually pretty well insulated to Bao’s surprise. She along with a few other people were the regulars, but Jihoon didn’t seem to mind the lack of customers.

“Other than soju and squid, do you want anything else?” Jihoon asked Bao, smirking at the contents on her table.

Jihoon was three years older than Bao. He had tattoo sleeves on both arms, piercings, and was currently sporting a black mullet. And to top it all off, he stood at 6’4”. Jinhwan would cry if he ever stood next to him. Bao smirked at the thought.

“I’m good for now, but we’ll probably order more later,” Bao nodded, pouring herself another shot of soju.

Jihoon smiled, then looked at his watch. “Did he text to say when he was coming?” he asked Bao, taking a seat in front of her, crossing his legs. Jihoon really was handsome, in the “Your daughter calls me daddy too” sort of way.

“Yeah. He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Bao answered, picking up a piece of squid and chewing on it.

“No Bobby today?” Jihoon asked, leaning back in his seat. He coolly stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Nah. He’s with his family,” Bao said, offering him a piece of squid. He shook his head, but smiled. Jihoon never said much. One of the reasons why Bao liked him. He was a man of few words and always in deep thought. Bao loved picking his brain.

She had met him about two years ago, when she had gone to an auto shop to get some parts for her car. His brother owned the place and Jihoon was there working on his own car. Bobby and Hanbin had come with her that day and the four of them really hit it off.

“There he is,” Jihoon grinned, getting up from his seat. Bao turned following Jihoon as he moved to greet Hanbin who had just walked into the restaurant.

Bao snorted at his get up. He was wearing a gray hoodie, with a furry bucket hat, a black face mask, and a pair of sunglasses (It was currently eight at night.) Obviously he was trying to stay unnoticed.

“Stop. Don’t make fun,” Hanbin said in a way of greetings to Bao. He went for one of those bro hugs with Jihoon, then moved over to Bao who stood to hug him.

“Missed you, dork,” Bao spoke into his hair. It had been a few months since Bao had last seen Hanbin.

Ever since his departure, Bobby had tried to get her to see Hanbin. She had refused for at least four months. She couldn’t deal with the feelings that were attached to Hanbin after his departure.

So after much convincing (and bribing), Bobby was able to get her to finally meet up with him, and that’s where Jihoon’s place came in. It was so secluded that no one ever came here and it made for the perfect place for any of the members to come and meet up with Hanbin. Jihoon even offered to close up for an hour or two to give them more privacy. The man was a godsend.

“I missed you too, B,” Hanbin said, and Bao could feel him smile into her neck. He pulled away and the two sat down. Jihoon had gone off to grab another bottle of soju with another glass.

Hanbin looked around the place and when he saw that no one was around, he took off his hat, mask, and glasses. Bao kept biting her lip to hide her smile.

“Shut up. I was undercover,” Hanbin said, holding his finger to his lips.

Bao who was mid sip of her drink, choked on it, laughing. “Shit.” She grabbed the napkin Hanbin offered her and wiped herself as she kept on coughing.

“That was gold, right there,” Hanbin laughed. Bao glared at him, but she felt herself relax when she saw him smile. It had been a while since he wore it.

“Christ. You’re always leaving a mess for me to clean up, huh?” Jihoon said, shaking his head. He placed the bottle, along with the glass down, plus a plate of raw meat to grill.

“Oh, boohoo,” Bao rolled her eyes at the older and turned to Hanbin who was already firing up the grill.

She quietly watched him. He looked good. Healthy. Bao actually felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders at the realization that he was doing well.

“Bao, you’re staring,” Hanbin said, without even looking up.

“Well of course. It’s been months since I’ve last seen that handsome face of yours,” Bao answered without missing a beat. Hanbin chuckled as he continued to place pieces of meat on the grill.

“How have you been?” he asked her, poking his tongue out in concentration as he focused on the meat.

Bao shook her head at the sight. There were so many times when he reminded her of a little kid, and this was one of them. “That’s my question,” Bao said, quirking a brow at him.

He looked up at her confusedly, mouth slightly open. Bao reached over and tapped his chin to close it. He flushed, then went back to the meat.

The younger cleared his throat. “I’ve been good. Been working on some projects here and there,” he said, looking up at her, smiling. Bao smiled too.

“Yeah?” she asked, biting her lip. “Will I get a special preview?”

“Nope.” Hanbin smiled, shaking his head with his eyes closed.

“Wow. And here I thought I was your best friend,” Bao said in mock hurt.

Hanbin just grinned. “Nah. Even Junhoe is higher on that list than you.” (That little shit.)

“Fuck you,” Bao laughed, grabbing a piece of meat that was cooked. She wrapped it with some lettuce and popped it in her mouth, moaning at the taste. Hanbin always grilled just the way she liked it.

“Good?” he asked, grabbing a piece for himself. Bao nodded, mouth too full to actually answer.

Once she swallowed, she reached for another piece. “I’m working on some stuff too,” she said nonchalantly.

“Yeah?” Hanbin looked up at her in curiosity.

“Yep. The company gave me the okay for a comeback with a mini album,” Bao smiled triumphantly. YG had given her the chance to make her solo debut in 2018 with a single, but now she had gotten the go for a comeback. She was super pumped.

‘Shit! That’s awesome, B,” Hanbin grinned. “Do you have stuff planned yet?”

“Yep,” Bao said, as she chewed. “So, it’ll be four songs. Bobby and Junhoe will be featured on two of them. Those ones are done,” Bao said, waving her hand. “Then I’m actually working with Tablo-oppa with one of them. I’m excited for that one.” She grinned, wiggling her fingers in excitement.

Hanbin laughed. “Yeah? And the last?” he asked her.

Bao smiled up at him. “Still working that one out. I was actually hoping to bounce some ideas off of you,” Bao said, taking a sip from her glass.

“Really?” he asked her, and Bao hated that he actually seemed surprised.

“Yeah. Of course,” she said, running her tongue over the front of her teeth. “I’m being serious,” she added when he still seemed unsure.

“Sorry. I just- Nevermind,” Hanbin said weakly, but smiled at her.

“We all know I suck with feels, so I’m not gonna ask what you were going to say,” Bao said, holding her glass and pointing at Hanbin with it. “But I mean it. I want to work with you again. I miss it. I miss you,” she said, whispering the last part.

Bao looked down at her empty plate. She could feel the younger looking at her. “I miss you too, Bao,” Hanbin said, and she looked up to see him smiling softly at her. “I’d love to help you out,” he nodded.

Bao smiled, then grabbed more meat to place on the grill. “Good, ‘cause I wasn’t taking no for an answer,” she said and Hanbin chuckled.

Bao’s Masterlist

[blondedemon]

i'm bored and in a writing mood so here's a short story. i wrote it in a sudden inspiration for with zero editing so i apologise if it's terrible lol

and i'm not gonna hide it under a 'keep reading' y'all gonna have to scroll

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

There was a child sitting in the deep, bottom corner of her father's garden. The leaf litter was damp and mulching beneath her hands. Countless worms appeared whenever she dug her fingers into the soft soil. A ladybug crept across the thick pumpkin leaves that surrounded her, and there was a line of ants marching over the toes of her bare feet as they made their way home. The world was alive, alive, alive and she was lost in it.

Three small cupcakes sat with her in the dirt before her.

This was a strange sort of child. The type that adults loved to talk about, but never to. Her eyes were always fixed on some distant point on the horizon, or far nearer, on the ground right in front of her nose. But she would rarely meet the eye of someone who tried to address her. This sort of behaviour tends to put people on edge. Adults are discomfited by the feeling that a child might see more than they do. They encounter a child such as this and chatter behind her back; always off with the fairies and she just doesn't focus, that one and I'd really rather my girl doesn't play with her, she seems a poor influence.

The girl hears every word. And understands them all, even if they'd never credit her for it.

She doesn't feel strange. It was just a label attached to the outer edges of her by faces and voices that couldn't see all the way in. The girl was always seeing deeper than they were. It seemed pointless to talk to the giggling, empty children in her class when there were such better friends to be made elsewhere. Her dad would drop her at the gates with a kiss to her forehead and concern wrinkling his own. She would sit through classes, staring at walls and colouring her fingernails in with textas and graphite as her teachers asked her to write about her weekend. Art time was filled with sheets covered in horses and fairies and secret creatures that stared back at her from deep within the leaf litter. Her addition and subtraction equations would blur and muddle with all the numbers fighting and talking to and laughing with each other. Her stories were full of girls being carried away by strange creatures until they were so far from the reaches of anyone who could watch them. Far from anyone who wouldn't understand what she could see.

She had given up on telling people about her friends long ago.

But now, in the dying daylight, they crawled to her. Out of the leaves and soil and branches and rotting wood, their eyes bright and their scales glittering. They clicked as they approached, little noises in the depths of their throats. Heads cocked to the sides as they regarded her, claws digging little marks into the earth beneath their feet. And the girl stayed ever so still. Not even a lock of her hair would dare move in the wind as she waited for them to come nearer. Each one was perhaps only as long as her forearm, and of course, that wasn't very long at all. Their teeth were little daggers hidden behind scaly lips, only visible when they hissed at each other as they tripped over their own feet. She had no reason to fear them. They would never hurt her.

There were two dozen in all. She'd counted them. It was far more than there had been the first time. She'd been crawling in the pumpkin patch looking for pillbugs to put in her bright plastic bucket when she'd stepped on one. Her father had warned her about snakes, slim monsters with fangs that would stop your heart before you noticed they'd bitten you. And so when she felt those scales under her toes and saw that hard-plated body disappear into the twisting vines, her stomach had dropped.

But no snake had legs, did it? Lizards did, though. And dragons.

Her feet had been noticeably free of any vampire-like pinprick wounds, even through all the mud, and so she'd figured she probably wasn't about to die. So she sat herself down under a leaf, huddled down real small, and tried to peek under the next plant to see if she could find thecreature she'd accosted. Two sharp-yellow, slit-pupiled eyes had stared back. And promptly disappeared like a blink when the creature whipped around and disappeared into the dense plants. The girl was unfazed. She sat there for hours until her dad called her all worried-like from the house, calling her in for dinner.

She didn't see the creature again that night. Nor did her father see her until morning. When she crashed into the house, hours and hours and hours later and told her of her brief encounter, her dad had shouted at her for disappearing so long. He cried that he'd been worried sick. He yelled that he'd had to call the police. She didn't understand. She'd been safe, after all. What did it matter that he hadn't known exactly where she was? She'd never left the yard, he had nothing to be concerned about.

She didn't mention her creature again, but her father saw less and less of her that month. She would disappear into the yard with punnets of strawberries or chicken bones from the night before or little cakes that had been brought by classmates celebrating their birthdays, and she would place these in front of her in the dirt in that same spot and wait. Some things worked better than others. Especially the sweeter things. She could tell it was working when the leaves would rustle more aggressively near the ground, as if something was creeping amongst them.

It was a long, long while before she saw anything real again, though.

Her eyes were half closed when it happened. A slice of sweet banana bread lay amongst the leaves before her, and in an instant, it was gone.

There was a lot of banana bread baked in that second month. Her father could hardly believe how much his kid seemed to love it.

The girl learned how to stay so very still. If she got very quiet and convinced herself she was nothing but a rock lying in the garden, she could sit for hours without so much as licking her lips or wriggling her toes. And the banana bread didn't disappear every day. Sometimes the girl ended up eating it, dirt and all, running back inside to curl at her father's feet while he watched television, men running across the screen and kicking small pixellated balls across the grass. But sometimes, she would watch as a clawed paw would stretch out from behind the cover of a low-hanging, broad pumpkin leaf, and snatch the bread from before her eyes.

That was very often followed by concerning but contented growling from the pumpkins. And very enthusiastic chomping noises.

Slowly, the creature grew more confident, and the girl grew more sure that this was no animal her father had told her about, or that showed up in the encyclopaedias that lined the shelves of her school library. Curved claws smoothed into dense, haunched legs. There was a tail that tapered to a whip-thin point at the end, and front legs that could either hold the animal on all fours or stretch up to reach whatever it wanted to grab. It had a stout nose and a broad face with wide, wide eyes that were set under a scaled brow. A row of gentle spines tracing up its nose and between its surprisingly soft-looking ears.

And the entire thing was covered in plated scales in gradients of black and brown and white to create the most striking pattern she'd seen, a spiralling stripy design that bent the light around it and hid it even more convincingly in the shadows of the pumpkin patch.

She didn't breathe the first time she saw it in full. Its yellow eyes were watching her, unblinking, as she watched it back with an equally immobile gaze. It reached forward and clutched her banana bread to its chest and held her gaze for a second before disappearing into the dark again. In her mind, the girl called out to it. But of course she did not say anything. She had to be still, so very still

Now there were so, so many, and they were all over her. One was curled in the arch of her crossed legs, its side rising and falling gently with its sleepy breaths. Its skin was cold when it pressed against her, because it was nearly dark after all, and these creatures didn't make much of ther own heat. Most of them were battling over the thin pickings she'd left for them, because she simply couldn't bring enough cake to feed all of them anymore. Her father had been suspicious enough when she'd been taking banana bread just for one, but now she was catering for a whole army.

Her first dragon was the last to emerge. It stared at her from a distance, and then blinked slowly, slowly, slowly. The girl didn't move. Except for her slow blink in return. And the creature padded over to her, pressing its nose into her side ever so gently.

The girl moved then, and only then. She reached toward her dragon and cupped her hands under its soft belly, lifting its small body to her own. She felt it put its head on her shoulder and she hugged it to her chest, and she was home.