#i’m just happy I’m done with this sketchbook but this piece should be seen alone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

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.

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kae-karo · 3 years

Note

"That sigh was a lot louder than I intended it to be." kaeya 👉👈

HI BESTIE THANK U FOR THIS i hope u enjoy!!! 💜💜

[send me a dialogue prompt from this list and a genshin character!]

tags: kaeya’s got a crush on diluc (shocking), canon divergence, albedo calling kaeya out on his bullshit

Kaeya leans back, tips his drink precariously to the side, just until the wine reaches the rim. Diluc isn’t here to yell at him for making a mess of the bar- yes I know you didn’t actually spill it, but you’re still taking an unnecessary risk.

His lip ticks up at the corner - how chastising can be so endearing, he isn’t quite sure. Perhaps simply because it’s been so long since he’s heard Diluc’s voice that he’d be glad for anything right now. Perhaps he’d invite the chastising, if only to ensure he’d have Diluc’s attention. How pathetic, that his desire to see Diluc again has overrun his own sense of pride.

He exhales a breath, lifts the glass to his lips and takes a long sip. It does not taste as sweet as he’d like.

“Something the matter?”

Kaeya blinks at the voice, pulls ardently at his usual facade and turns to grin at-

“Ah, dear alchemist. What brings you to the tavern this fine evening?” Kaeya can’t think of a time he’s seen Albedo in Angel’s Share perhaps ever, but the man sits there all the same, head bowed over a sketchbook and pencil scribbling seemingly at random.

“Research.” Blue eyes flick up to meet Kaeya’s for the briefest moment, then return to the paper. “You sound bothered. What’s wrong.” Hardly the tone for a question, and Kaeya quirks a brow.

“Ah, that sigh was a lot louder than I’d intended it to be…” he muses, more to himself than Albedo, but the pencil stops its near-inaudible scratching. Albedo lifts his head properly, then, and fixes a- well, it’s not quite a blank stare, more a judging one, but very subtle. Kaeya wonders if he’d learned it from Diluc.

“No, it wasn’t.” Kaeya blinks at Albedo, and his brows lift a bit of their own accord. “You were precisely as loud as you intended to be.” With that, he returns his focus to his paper, soft scratches of pencil returning as he draws - Kaeya wonders who he might be sketching.

“Do you mean to imply that I’m searching for attention?” Kaeya asks as he leans an elbow on the bar. Albedo lifts his gaze but not his head, quirks a brow silently, and Kaeya huffs out an amused breath. Fine, he’d been searching for attention, but not from Albedo.

Diluc isn’t here, though, and he doubts he could sigh quite loudly enough for Diluc to hear him.

“You came to draw?” Kaeya prompts, because he thoroughly doubts that Albedo cares anything for Kaeya’s own personal issues. Nor would Kaeya speak of them so easily, though he can’t imagine why Albedo would even bother to ask - surely he’s perfectly aware of Kaeya’s inclination to keep his cards close to his chest? Even if he’s not inclined toward socializing, he must hear bits and pieces of the rumors that follow Kaeya like his own personal stormcloud.

Suspicious. Strange. Unusual tactics. Do his men even trust him? What’s with the eyepatch, anyway?

Always the eyepatch, Kaeya thinks with a subtle smirk.

“I came to research, and that often includes my art, yes.” Kaeya blinks at Albedo’s words, focuses on the moment. “And even if you weren’t sighing like some fair maiden in an overdramatic stage play, everything about your expression screams your desire to have someone listen to your problems.”

Kaeya stares, eye wide and brows raised.

“Don’t look like that,” Albedo says with a hint of exasperation. “I was drawing your smug smirk, this is a different expression entirely.” Kaeya blinks once, then again.

“I have no desire to make someone listen to my problems,” he says carefully - no, he’s never wanted others to hear his problems. Not in a long while. Where Albedo could’ve possibly gotten that idea, Kaeya has no clue.

Albedo just tips his head, though, and taps his pencil on the bartop. Focuses on Kaeya with an assessing sort of stare, and Kaeya makes a concerted effort to relax his expression, to ensure it’s as neutral and normal as possible. Albedo just huffs out an amused breath, and his lip ticks up at the corner.

“A commendable attempt, but your actions only serve to prove my point.”

“Do you intend to pester me until I bare my soul to you?” Kaeya says, and finds his tone not as nonchalant as he’d hoped. Albedo hums.

“It does not bother me either way.” Albedo returns the tip of his pencil to his paper. “Suffer in silence, if you want.”

Kaeya grits his teeth, watches with mild confusion and mild irritation in tandem - he doesn’t want to talk about his own issues, certainly not with someone like Albedo. Would he even understand? Pretty as he is, Kaeya’s well aware that he spends most of his time alone in Dragonspine, focused wholeheartedly on his research. It’s unusual to find him anywhere without purpose, certainly not in the middle of a tavern.

“Even if I did desire to talk about my problems - and assuming you’re correct in your assessment - I fear you’d find them rather complex,” Kaeya says, takes another sip of his wine. The pencil pauses, then resumes its scratching.

“I can’t decide if your intent was to insult my intelligence or goad me into coercing you to speak.” His eyes flick up, then back to his page. “Either way, I’m nearly done with this, so I’d prefer you make up your mind sooner rather than later.”

Kaeya has no interest in talking about his problems, so it’s just as well, isn’t it? Except…

Perhaps he doesn’t know Albedo well, doesn’t trust him farther than he can throw him, but he can’t possibly cause Kaeya problems if he’s holed up in Dragonspine, if he’s less inclined to socialize than even Sucrose.

“It’s matters of the heart, if you must know,” Kaeya says as nonchalantly as he can manage. Still, he’ll keep Diluc’s name out of it, whatever little else he does choose to reveal. “I fear I’ve lost this person’s trust too severely to ever regain it, and that they will not even give me a chance to make amends for my actions.”

So simple, it sounds so impossibly simple, when he says it that way. When he strips away the layers upon layers of their complicated relationship to the bare bones, they could be anyone, the two of them. Mere star-crossed lovers, some fairytale that can be woven with ease into a happy ending. Kaeya’s lip ticks up at the corner, at the idea of something so simple.

“How unnecessarily complicated,” Albedo says with a sigh. He straightens up, tucks his pencil behind an ear. Kaeya huffs out a breath, though even he isn’t sure whether it’s one of annoyance or amusement. He lifts his glass to his lips. “You should tell him how you feel.”

Kaeya coughs out a laugh, now, and nearly chokes on his wine.

“You sound like a child,” he says without thinking, and Albedo tips his head.

“You say that like an insult. Perhaps you could do with a child’s advice.” With that, he climbs to his feet, and Kaeya catches a glimpse of the sketch Albedo had been working on, of- oh, of his own face. Albedo had said as much, hadn’t he?

“Why me?” Kaeya asks quickly, before Albedo can grab his sketchbook and leave. Albedo just hums. Picks up the sketchbook, flips it closed and tucks it under his arm.

“I received a commission for my art. A portrait of you.” Kaeya’s lips part, but he’s stunned to silence by the way Albedo’s lip curls up into a smirk. “I suspect Diluc will find this quite to his tastes.”

#genshin #kaeluc #genshin impact #kaeya #shigarakitomura #ask

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some-dr-writings · 4 years

Text

Kokichi and Kiibo x the SHSL Strategist

Kokichi Oma:

· You were a fascinating case to Kokichi. Despite being called the Super High School Level Strategist, no matter how hard he looked, he saw no sign of your talent anywhere. You never went about doing things in the most efficient way, you seemed to only be average in games like chess or backgammon, you didn’t even seem interested in anything that used much cognitive activity, most daydreaming in class, the teacher having to go to extremes to regain your attention. Your eyes were never focused, always just staring off in the distance at something only you perceived. You were also oblivious of your surroundings, often bumping into things or tripping and falling over. What exactly were you always day dreaming of he wondered.

· At first he pulled some pranks on you, quickly escalating in intensity, but you never seemed to notice. He soon just started following you. Mimicking your actions, wondering if he could understand you better through this. Well, he learned you walked a lot. You’d often wander off campus, just going wherever your feet lead you. Sometimes you’d find your way onto a construction site and balance along those surprisingly thin beams, other times you’d slip onto a ship, sit on the railing and lean back, looking to the sky or the bridges the boat passed under. When you’d inevitably get caught, you never acted guilty of sneaking aboard, nor did you act like you had no idea where you were, “I just happen to be here.” Was the only explanation you’d ever give.

· You never spoke much either, you’d only answer questions, and those questions were always met with no response or single sentences.

· It was so strange it was as if you were here, yet not at the same time. You were aware of your surroundings, and not.

· Wanting to learn more, he kept following you, wherever you went, no matter how far or downright dangerous the path you tread or how long it had been since either of you last slept or ate. He kept following. You found so many beautiful sights in the most unexpected of places. Some hidden grove in a park, amongst the scaffolding of a draw up bridge, atop the roof of some person’s house, hidden away in an abandoned town where plants had begun to take over, a railway that ran along a lake where the city in the distance appeared to float atop it.

· One time the pair of you sat atop a tram for a while. Kokichi reflect on his time with you. You had met a lot of people, many were very kind, some not so, but… those kind acts outshone the bad so much. It was rather nice seeing. “Sometimes, you need to be reminded the world is not as bad as others try to make you think.” Kokichi’s gaze snapped to you. For a moment he thought he was hearing things before you turned to him. “Thanks for reminding me of that.” You smiled, holding you hand out to him. “Uh, you know my name, but I never introduced myself. My name, it’s Y/N.” With a beaming smile, and wide sparkling eyes Kokichi took your hand into both of his. “I’m Oma Kokichi!”

· You began to talk sometimes, mostly little comments about your surroundings. At school you started approaching him, but you’d simply watch mindlessly. “Hey, Y/N, what do you think?” Laying on his bed, crayon in hand he turned to you, presenting his sketch book. You looked to him inquisitively before pointing to yourself. “Yeah silly! Show me your talent! I want to see the ultimate strategist at work!” “… But it won’t be fun anymore.” “Huh?” You pointed to the sketchbook. “If I think, if my head’s not empty, you won’t have fun. Making the plan is fun, but if I think, I’ll get everything done in the best way, there’ll be no surprises or challenges. I’ll forget people are people and not board pieces again.”

· So that was why…

· After that Kokichi started asking for your input more and more. He’d keep you up all night, making scheme after scheme together. Eventually you gave in and went all out when planning. You were brilliant, terrifyingly, spine-chillingly so, getting the most amount of victims while using the least amount of materials, even sketching out escape routes. If Kokichi didn’t know any better, he would have thought you were a completely different person with how you so logically chatted away, going through your thinking processes and explaining everything in such detail while still being engaging, but… Kokichi knew you. This was the side of yourself you feared, always trying to run away from. After all, in a world of pure logic, if your mind was always buzzing with how most efficiently to do things, likely, you’d be awfully bored and lonely, you could maybe even do something crazy because of that maddening boredom like destroy the whole world over night.

· Kokichi would follow your plans, but sometimes, he’d add some twist, not tell you completely what he was planning, and he managed to even catch you off guard a few times and you became his sole victim. You soon took to trying to out smart him, sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing. You were much more present after that. You’d freely speak with others, always so cheerily smiling. Sometimes you overly pragmatic side would seep out, which when left unchecked could scare others and yourself with how little regard you held for others, but you managed to hold it back most of the time.

· One day during one of your many escapades off the campus you and Kokichi were loving the view sitting atop the bus, that was till some cops spotted you. Kokichi took your hand and the pair of you ran. The pair of you used your surroundings to your advantage and managed to lose then, but your excited laughter kept giving your location away. You only managed to escape when you dashed into a train just as it was leaving the station. You and Kokichi kept giggling to yourselves watching as you sped past the cops. “That was so exciting!” “Yeah, yeah! We should do that again!” “Great idea! My goodness we should have started this long ago! We could have been running all this time instead of just being caught, but I guess the younger me probably wouldn’t have seen the point, but I had no idea this could be so fun!” You looked to him, a light blush spreading on your cheeks as you hesitantly squeezed his hand. “Everything is always so fun and exciting with you. No matter what it is. Heh, heh. At this point I can’t tell if it’s just because you are you or because I have a crush on you.” You chuckled at yourself, finding this situation rather silly, not noticing how Kokichi was a giggling mess, hugging and nuzzling into you. “Aw~ Y/N~ You just made the WORST mistake in your life. You’re stuck with me now! I like you too.”

Kiibo:

· You hummed thinking over the question. “Well, Humans as a whole, as a collective are predictable. That’s how I can misdirect people, lead them away so I can be the only person in line and just get my shopping done with. Such predictability is so boring, and sad. The only excitement I can find anymore is interacting with others on an individual basis, learn of their past, see if they’ll open up to me, find out what makes them tick, when in the context of interpersonal relationships, each person is so unique and unpredictable. It’s the only excitement I can find anymore honestly. Connecting with others. It may seem cold, like I only see others as entertainment, but… Hmm, I’m not sure how to explain it any other way. Even if I don’t like a person, I still want to get to know them, who knows, maybe I’ll find some trait in them I could admire, you’ll never know till you try! So, even if I’m more fond of certain individuals, I want to know everyone, and everyone deserves to be treated with decency, you never know what exactly others have been through, it could possibly make their day if you treat them like a fellow human being.”

· You were a social butterfly, always smiling and friends or were at least on friendly terms with just about everyone. You always were able to read people. You were everyone’s confidant, their best friend. Kiibo was quite impressed with how you were able to keep up with everyone. It did get him to wonder though… Did you like anyone more than the other? Like, say, have a crush on anyone, like how he had a crush on you? You didn’t seem to have a biases towards anyone, but… could you maybe? And that was your answer, the answer of the Super High School Level Strategist.

· You were so smart, able to manipulate people. You weren’t that great at battle tactics or making plans or at board games, but you absolutely knew how to control the masses. You understood people, their emotions, their thoughts. This fascinated Kiibo, you seemed to be what Kiibo wished he were. He was still learning about people and himself, about emotions and how it could relate too and affected logic. Kiibo was desperate to learn all he could from you, and about you. You seemed to see emotions in a logical way, a way most other people didn’t seem to perceive it as. “Oh, well, a good way to start is to see things from their perspective and position.”

· It was not often, but when Kiibo got a moment alone with you, he always learned so much and had fun. In the moment he didn’t think of it, but he wondered. Since you treated everyone the same, even those you didn’t like… Was he your friend? Did you, in fact, not like him at all? He certainly liked you, but… he had no idea what you thought of him, at all. And would you even tell him the truth if he asked? Would you lie so you could still be with him and learn more about him? The more he thought about it, he soon realized that he had a crush on the you he had made in his mind, not… not the real you, whoever that was. Then as he thought more on it, he wondered if you were lonely. If you had any real friends. Were you happy like this? You said that connecting with others was the only excitement you had anymore, so what if you weren’t happy, but this was just the best you could find…

· How were you… the real you, he wondered.

· And so he had a new resolve to know you. “You connect with others, but what about the other way around? Do others know you?” “Well, people are more inclined to open up if the other does so too.” “But how deep is that connection! Does anyone really know you?” “… What’s gotten you so curious?” You leaned your elbows on your desk, resting your chin on the back of your interlaced fingers. “I want to know you, the mastermind behind the strategist seeking excitement.” Your gaze sharpened, turning to something dark. It wasn’t much, so simple, just the tiniest shift in expression and yet that single look terrified him. You also smiled, a smile practically inviting him with how naturally kind it was. “I’d like to see you try.” There was a light chuckle bubbling up in your voice as you spoke. It was deadly serious and threatening, yet playful.

· Though slightly confused and scared Kiibo went ahead befriending you again. You wondered what Kiibo would find out. What he would think of you. This was certainly not a development you were expecting, you were curious to see where this would lead.

· And so this sort of game between you and Kiibo began. And well… Kiibo only fell for you the more and more he got to know you. Nothing about you was fake. You were able to appease others and get to know them while still being honest with yourself. You used your skill set so much without other’s notice, mostly stopping fights before they could even begin. You also acted a little differently with Kiibo than with others. You were a bit colder and more methodical while still having that warmth in your voice. Everything, your entire world, was logical. Every last aspect was like that.

· It was a bit of a slow process through. Despite being able to so fluidly move through any social situation, you didn’t feed off of it, in fact it drained you being an introvert. You liked people, but you couldn’t stand to be with too many for too long. It was also a very slow process for you to open up. You were blunt and honest, like Kiibo himself, but you didn’t just freely share yourself, a sort of unspoken trust had to be built up before you’d go into more detail.

· With Kiibo and you spending so much time with one another everyone just sort of assumed the pair of you just started dating. It also certainly didn’t help that Kiibo became a flustered, blushing mess when you were teased about it. “I mean, it only makes sense, ANYONE can see we’re crushing on each other.” “W-w-w-w-wait! Hold on a second! You, you know, and like me too!?” You smiled, leaning over and kissing his forehead. “What do you think?” Your smile only grew as you started to snicker seeing Kiibo’s blush grow.

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jasmine-the-fox · 5 years

Text

Destroyed it (MLB salt fic)

It was a nice Friday in Paris, Marinette of course arrived to school late... But only because she was talking to Jagged Stone through video chat about a new set of clothes he could wear for a tour. Aurore, Marc and Luka were waiting for her so she could tell them how it went as she got to her locker, they headed to there class with Mari walking into her’s.

It was her first warning...

The class was glaring at her, Lila was just smiling from next to Alya... She now sat alone in the back since Nathaniel moved to be next to Ivan, this told her that she did something big, miss Bustier then made a sound to get her attention.

“Marinette, due to some... Incidents that I was told about, it has been decided that until you change... You will no longer be allowed on any field trips the class goes on” she had told her.

The class looked to be waiting... Waiting for her to beg to let her be on the trips or something... No way hell would she do something so fucked up.

She took one step and turned to face them “Are you all sure of this? I’m only giving you this chance to change your mind” she said.

That was her second mistake...

They all began to shout... Alya being the loudest, they pointed out things she did to Lila ever since she came back to school, claimed Lila only wanted to be her friend and she was being a bully... Even Adrien fed the fire.

Now that... Was there mistake...

She nodded and went to her bag holding her sketchbook... And tore it up right before the class... Showing that it held outfit commissions she was to make for them... Free, lists of baked goods she was being forced to bake for the class... For free, and all the plans and info’s for the field trips she had planned all on her own without there help.

She was simply done... She had poured so much blood, sweat and tears and commissions the class would push on her from three days left to just one day before they needed it, Mari couldn’t even remember the number of hours she slept because of them.

Not to forget the number of times once she brought them, not even a thank you was given, she still remembered the time Nino’s brother Chris watched her make a scarf his brother pushed her to make for there mom’s birthday and he had brought up how it must have cost about the same amount as the Dj set he got himself... Only for there parent’s to realize he didn’t pay Mari at all. He ended up returning the set to pay her... The class got mad at her for refusing to give the money back to Nino.

She had needed it to make jackets for Kagami and Luka they were paying for her to make!

And let’s not forget the number of times Alya and Nino dropped on Mari there siblings so they could go on a date... Without paying her, luckily the kids were nice enough to allow her to work on her designs and even help her... In exchange of a cookie or a cupcake of course.

Speaking of baked goods, Marinette couldn’t even count the number of times the class demanded her free food, and when she brought them they would get mad at her for not making the ones they wanted that Lila texted her about, she already was allowed by her parents to use the extra ingredients to make them... Now she had to buy ingredients to make what they wanted!?

No way in hell was she doing anything for them anymore...

The class watched in shock as some told her to stop destroying the sketch book, they thought the plan would work! After there teacher told Mari the news, she would beg them to let her on them, they would accept, she would apologize to Lila for hurting her and they would all be friends again! Why wasn’t she begging!?

Adrien was disappointed in Mari... So much for being the two who knew the truth... Now she was just being a baby, he had nothing to worry though. Once he told her his father wanted her as an intern... Everything will be better and everything will go back to normal... Right?

Caline was horrified! Marinette should have been the better person! Have her words not reached her at all!? She has told her many times about the hundreds of Marinette’s in the world and she still does this!? She so badly wanted to send the girl to the principal’s office... But her hands were tied, she couldn’t send her there without a good reason... And this wasn’t it at all.

Once the sketchbook was destroyed, Mari threw it into the trash bin and went to her seat... With a smile from her two friends Chloe and Sabrina who knew about Lila’s lies and weren’t going to do nothing like Adrien was, Chloe knew that soon Marinette would snap after everything the class did to her... And she couldn’t be anymore happy then she was now, she was so having a party with their friends at her daddy’s hotel after school.

That weekend, the class was at the park, Lila was being comforted as she claimed to have texted Mari for a few baked goods... Only for the girl to insult her and want her to kill herself, meanwhile Max was putting pieces of Mari’s sketchbook together to figure out the field trip she had planned “I can’t believe she would do that!” Alya sneered as Max gasped “New York... Next week we were going to New York” he said as he explained everything Mari did.

And there was no way of getting that trip since Mari got places that needed to be reserved months before... They would be staying in Paris instead...

That following week, while the class was getting ready for a trip to the museum... Mari was getting help from her friends to have transfer to miss Mendeleiev’s class... Only for Caline to have her stay for two weeks... Hoping Mari would be the better person and stay in the end.

No way in hell...

The next week, the class watched as Mari ignored them as they brought up the awful trip they ended doing... Which was there fault in the first place, they also watched as Lila was found out for her lies by the police and she was deported back to Italy... They had hoped Mari would be there friend again after that... But she never went to them and instead kept to Aurore, Luka and Marc.

A week later, Alya noticed Mari was holding something... A sketchbook, she then knew Mari was doing something big for them to forgive them so she told the class and they formed a plan at lunch to get it... Alya had to wait at the lockers of course but it was worth it to help Mari fix things with them... Only they were wrong.

The sketchbook had nothing for them... Only for her friends as presents and commission ideas for Jagged Stone...

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!!” a furious Mari walked over and snatched the book back “I had a lunch meeting with Jagged for some outfits for his next tour! And because you guys stole my sketchbook! I need to wait MONTHS before he comes back to Paris and showed them to him!!” she screamed as Chloe and Sabrina glared at them... While filming the whole event.

“I’m sure the principal will be very disappointed in you all for ruining such a big moment for Mari... Especially daddy who has been donating money here to help the school... Now he’ll need to donate security cameras so stealing will be seen” Chloe said as Sabrina rushed to the principal’s office to report this whole thing as Chloe turned to Mari “Let’s go to my daddy’s hotel, Jagged must still be there and you can show him there!” she said making Mari nod as they left the school.

A few days later Mari, Chloe and Sabrina transferred classes... They saw the trio with other students... Not once going to talk to Bustier’s class, with time Mari ended up leaving school early since MDC designs was getting even more famous and demanded so she ended up working on it full time... Her friends soon following her to help out.

Years later while Mari and her friends became famous... Bustier’s class was ruined and never got their dream jobs.

All because they caused Marinette to destroy her sketchbook.

@edes-posts @vixen-uchiha @miraculous-saltybug @mlbchaosqueen

#mlb salt #mlb fanfic #class salt #alya salt #adrien salt

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virtueangel · 4 years

Text

limitless.

chapter nineteen.

wc: 1,974. original publish date: november 20, 2020.

There is an inevitable happiness that comes with falling in love. When all the worries and doubts and insecurities are stripped away, what is left is the knee-shaking nervousness, the stomach-wrenching elation, the childishly giddy happiness. Sometimes it feels like falling asleep at midnight or waking up with a smile. Sometimes it feels like standing thigh-deep in an icy ocean, waiting for a wave that never crashes. Sometimes all there is to be done is to wait for the wave to crash.

JFK's smile falls, but he tries to hide it from Van Gogh. Why didn't he say it back? Is he going to say it back?

All Van Gogh can do is stare up into JFK's green eyes, waiting for him to say something else. To change the subject. To take his response as something positive. To let it satisfy him. To move on.

A weak wave fizzes against the shoreline. The ocean draws back and the world is silent.

"I love you, Vincent," Kennedy says again, less sure of himself this time.

Van Gogh swallows, and there is a pause in conversation. "I am falling down a rabbit hole that I didn't even know existed and it's longer and darker than the one I fell through to get here."

Sometimes answers only make half a bit of sense. Sometimes that has to be good enough.

"And what's it like?" John asks. "The rabbit hole, that is."

"It's dark," Vincent replies on an exhale, never breaking eye contact.

Now Kennedy swallows. His grip on Van Gogh never loosens. "Do you like it there?"

"No," Vincent replies too quickly. "I want to fall through it. To feel my feet on the ground."

"You're afraid of the dark," JFK states.

"I'm afraid of the dark," Vinnie agrees.

A wave slams up against the boys' legs, more powerful than the first one. It fizzes out against the shore, spitting sea foam across the sand.

"Kiss me," Vincent says. "Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like we're in love."

"We are in love," JFK protests, but his voice is small.

Van Gogh stares up at John, his eye contact so intense that JFK thinks about breaking it. He blinks, and for a split second, he considers turning his head away. But he doesn't. He sees it through.

"It's really dark in here."

"And you're afraid of the dark."

Van Gogh wraps his arms around the taller boy's neck and pulls his face down so their lips meet. He doesn't pull back when he should. He waits to break the kiss until he's sucked every last bit of saltwater off of JFK's lips. He only opens his eyes when he hears another wave fizz against the sand.

"Do you want to leave?" Jack asks when Van Gogh finally lets him go.

Vincent breaks eye contact for the first time. "I want my sketchbook."

JFK's lips twitch. All of this, and it's still not enough for him. All of this, and all he wants is his fucking sketchbook.

"I don't know where it is," John replies.

Van Gogh looks out across the water. He mumbles in response. "But I know that's not true."

"I think we should go," JFK suggests, ignoring the boy's comment.

"Go where?"

"Home."

Vincent sticks his gaze back onto JFK. "Do you even still want our home?"

JFK furrows his eyebrows. "Of course I do."

Van Gogh retreats his touch from JFK and wraps his arms around himself. "And I want out of this rabbit hole."

"So come home," Kennedy begs.

"Do you want me there?"

Kennedy sighs, realising too late how exasperated he sounds. "Yes, Vinnie, I want you there. After all of this, and you think I'd just cast you aside?"

Vincent takes a second to find his voice. "Yes."

JFK lets his guard down, suddenly remembering who he's dealing with. He was given half a person to work with. He'd thought he was special enough to make the boy whole. But it's not like anyone sells missing pieces for people. The ocean draws back after a wave, and an undercurrent tugs against the hem of JFK's t-shirt.

"You said you believed me when I told you I wouldn't leave."

Van Gogh inhales. "You don't get to be mad at me over this."

"I'm not-" JFK sighs. "I'm not mad at you. I just think you could make this a little easier on me."

Vincent scoffs. "A little easier on you? Are you fucking kidding me? You're Mr. Big Shot Jock! Everyone is in love with you! I mean- god! You're ten times more attractive than me! We don't look like a couple! We don't look like we belong together! You have so many other options, and you're mad at me because I can't trust that you're different from everyone else? That you won't pick up and leave when I become too much to handle? When you decide you don't want me anymore? Jesus Christ, Jack. I thought you knew better. I thought you said you could do this. I thought you knew what you were getting yourself into, but I guess not."

JFK goes silent for longer than he knows he should. A wave crashes, stubborn enough to make Van Gogh wobble. The calm before the storm is ending.

"I do know what I'm getting into. But I wish you had a little more faith in yourself."

"Self-doubt is taught," Vincent counters.

Kennedy shrugs. "Maybe. But it's also fixable."

Van Gogh scoffs again, looking away from the boy. "You say fixable like you mean curable. Like it's a disease."

"Change is a choice."

"I know that."

JFK sighs. "So are you going to make it?"

Vincent swallows, returning his attention to John. His quicksand eyes are full, and not of light. His lip quivers. His skin goes pale, but it's not because of the water. His gaze is glossed over, like he's not really here. Like he's thinking. Like he's remembering.

"No one else ever made that choice for me. I was always the one who had to make the choice for them."

JFK nods. "So you're tired of making it."

"So I don't think I should have to."

"You're better than them."

Van Gogh shivers. "I'm freezing."

"Let's get out of the water."

Vincent agrees, and JFK guides him back to land. He holds the shorter boy's shoulder, pulling him close and making sure he doesn't fall in any holes. The ocean's currents are unpredictable. The sand beneath their feet could give out at any moment.

The boys step out of the water, their legs pale and bumpy from the cold. The sand is rough against their ankles, harsher than when they were in the water. Van Gogh bends down to pick up a seashell discarded onto the shoreline by the waves, a jagged crack etched down the middle. He bends it until he breaks. Vincent keeps one half of the shell and gives the other to JFK.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

Van Gogh answers in a low voice, "Just hold it."

John obeys, too nervous to say anything else. It shocks him that he'd forgotten about this part of his best friend -- the part where he withholds details, doesn't share everything that's on his mind. Vincent never gives out the final puzzle piece. Not anymore, at least. He used to give it out, but he never got it back. It was taken away from him, like all the people who ever left.

They walk down the beach, the foamy waves licking at their feet. They keep a foot in between them -- just enough distance to be separate but not enough to feel alone. JFK bends down after walking a few more yards. His eye is caught by a smooth and shiny black rock, flat enough to close his hand around.

"What's that?" Vincent asks, holding his seashell half close to his chest.

Kennedy's gaze flicks over to the boy. "It's a skipping stone."

Van Gogh chuckles. "I never learned how to skip."

JFK examines the rock in his hand, holding it close to his face and turning it over before his eyes. "Me neither. I just always sort of knew."

Vincent shrugs. "Could you show me?"

Something inside JFK lurches and tells him not to say anything. Going down to the river just outside of town to skip stones with his foster dads was part of his childhood. He hadn't met Van Gogh yet. Doesn't he have to keep their lives separate somehow?

But Vincent looks so hopeful, so genuinely interested. JFK nods softly.

"To be honest, I don't know how to explain it," John admits.

Van Gogh smiles politely. "You never were very good at explaining."

Kennedy nods in agreement. "I'm trying to get better," he replies, begging Vincent to meet his gaze.

The shorter boy locks his eyes with JFK's. "Are you trying for me, or for you?"

"Does it matter?"

Van Gogh takes a deep breath. "I guess not."

JFK nods, satisfied with the boy's answer. He turns toward the water, and Vincent does the same. "Okay, so first, you've gotta get a flat rock."

"Like the one you have," Van Gogh comments.

"Exactly. And then, you sort of hold it in between your thumb and your middle finger, like this," he shows the boy. "And, like, rest the rock on your index finger. But bend it. See how I'm doing that?"

Vincent nods to show that he understands.

"And then you wanna face the water, but angle your body the slightest bit. And really what you're doing is flicking your wrist. It doesn't come from your hand. It's from your wrist."

JFK lets the rock fly, and both boys watch as it skips over the water three times. It probably would've gone farther, had they been standing closer to the water. It's still impressive to Van Gogh, though, who's never seen anyone do that before. He seems to be bewildered by everything the boy does.

"You wanna try now?" John asks, turning to the boy.

Van Gogh shakes his head. "No. I want to go home."

JFK frowns. "But you wanted me to teach you."

"No, I asked you to show me," Vincent shrugs weakly. "And besides, I couldn't do it like you can."

The taller boy's frown deepens. "I wouldn't expect it to be perfect the first time around. What I just did -- that took years of practice. A lot of weekends of my dads taking me down to the river to practice and me being horrible. Nothing is perfect on the first try."

"Why are you mad at me right now?" Vincent asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm not mad, Vincent. I just don't know why you do this."

"Why I do what? I'm not doing anything."

JFK sighs, and this time he doesn't care how exasperated he sounds. "That's my point. A lot of things come easily to you. All your art and your grades in school and stuff -- you've never struggled with any of that. You've become so accustomed to just being good at everything that you never try anything new because the worst thing in the world is to be bad at something."

Van Gogh's jaw clenches. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

The world is still, except for the low waves of the ocean. The fizzing and drawing back of the water fills up the boys' ears. Finally, Vincent speaks, his voice so quiet it's a miracle it drowns out the ocean.

"Teach me how to drive a car."

"I already said I would-"

"Teach me how to drive your car," Van Gogh clarifies, and his face is so stoically serious that all JFK can do is swallow.

"Then let's go," he replies. "I'll teach you how to drive a car."

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh #writing #limitless.

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uneq-apol--arts · 4 years

Text

Duped

AO3

Summary: (Reverse Portal AU) Stan and Dipper discover they have a lot more in common than they thought.

Warnings: references to alcohol abuse

Genre: Familial Fluff

Characters: Dipper Pines, Stan Pines

Notes: Requested by @hurricanelistmaker. There may be some references to the RP Mind Wipe AU. This just really reminded me of it.

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The past week had been an absolute whirlwind of weird. Not just the Gravity Falls type of ultimately harmless. No, this weird was a weird that could've destroyed the world if done incorrectly. First, the youngest Pines discovered their seemingly boring Great-Uncle Ford was building a doomsday device in a basement they knew nothing about. Second, from that portal arrives another great-uncle the youngest Pines knew nothing about!

On the topic of Great-Uncle Ford, Dipper couldn't find him anywhere. Someone had moved the axolotl feed to where Dipper couldn't reach it. Judging by the muffled bangs from below the house, Ford was down in the basement again, where the children weren't allowed. The younger twins hadn't seen hide nor hair of their caretaker since his brother returned.

Great-Uncle (or Grunkle, as he insisted the children call him) Stan was a pretty cool guy though. In the past week, he'd already taught Dipper and Mabel how to box, sword fight, and swindle some suckers from town. Dipper questioned his morals but went along with his lessons anyways. Stan had even questionably obtained a sketchbook for Dipper to write in instead of Great-Uncle Ford's old journal.

Back to the problem at hand for the youngest Pines, someone had moved the axolotl feed. There weren't any step ladders in the house that Dipper knew of and standing on the couch to reach the little blue canister seemed too risky.

Dipper left for the nearest room noise came from: the kitchen. "Great-Uncle Ford!"

-----

Stan swore in all the languages he'd learned. He was going to go mad living here! He'd only lived here a week and he was getting sick of all this organic junk Ford lived on. The cranky old nerd was spending all of his waking hours in the basement pulling apart the portal without help.

Seriously though, how did his nutters brother and the children live on this "health food" junk? Fruits and vegetables? Gross. It was quite possibly worse than what Stan scrounged up in the multiverse! That at least tasted like meat!

Stan was just about tempted to murder Mabel's pig if it meant he could get some good grub. He didn't care if she hated him for it!

He did.

She was wonderful.

At a loss, Stan grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth, satiating his dripping appetite. From the doorway, Dipper called out for his dumb drunk great-uncle.

-----

Dipper stopped short in the kitchen doorway, his next call dying on his lips. Leaning back on his heels to see the higher cupboard shelves was the boy's estranged, one-armed, great-uncle. "Great-Uncle Stan?" The man in question spun around dangerously quick and stumbled. A piece of bread hung from the man's mouth.

"Um." Stan's mouth fell open and the saliva-soggy half-eaten piece of bread hit the tile floor with a disgusting squelch. Both men's eyes met the bread on the floor, Dipper with a grossed out cringe. "Um." Stan muttered again, face barely flushed from being caught. He reached out a booted foot and shoved the bread under the lip of the lower cabinets before looking up at Dipper and waving his hand. "You din't see nothin'." Stan said darkly. Dipper nodded, choking back his comment on the double negative with a scared squeak. Stan's demeanor shifted suddenly to a more playful tone and he crossed over to Dipper, throwing his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Whatcha need, squirt?"

"Someone moved the axolotl feed and I can't reach it now." Dipper lamented as Stan returned to the task of overturning the whole kitchen. Dipper finally stepped into the kitchen and leaned against the counter.

"Sounds like a you problem, kiddo."

Hoping to use his own tricks against him, Dipper looked for a bargaining chip. "What are you looking for?" Had Stan actually rubbed off on him that quickly? Dipper supposed he saw a lot more of Stan than Ford. The boy shivered, uncomfortable with that train of thought. They should probably make sure Ford was okay if the increase in frequency of the bangs from below was anything to go by.

"You're smart, whaddya think?" Before Dipper could even start reasoning, Stan interrupted again. "I'm lookin' for somethin' to eat that isn't boring or vegetarian." He spit the last word out with such distaste that Dipper let out a crackly little laugh. Bargaining chip acquired. Now he just had to use it.

"Good luck with that, man." Stan turned to glower at the petite twelve-year-old. For the peeved façade the man put up, Dipper could see the intrigue behind it. "Get me the axolotl feed and I'll let you eat from Mabel and I's food stash?" Stan didn't look convinced. "We have beef jerky." That got the conman's attention. The cupboard door slammed shut and echoed in the kitchen space.

"Thank Moses for you, kid!" Dipper smiled mischievously. "Why are you-- Hey wait a minute!" Dipper burst out laughing and headed to the living room, leaving a proud and spluttering Stan in his wake.

-----

After recovering from being duped by the little miscreant, Stan followed Dipper into the living room. In a wooden case sat the axolotl tank, the little pink salamander floating around and bonking into the glass walls.

"Y'know I met a sentient axolotl once." Stan said as he reached up for the canister the kid indicated.

"Really?" He scream-asked. Stan covered his ear with his remaining hand then held out the canister to Dipper.

"Jeez kid, you're worse than Poindexter!" The old man mumbled.

"Speaking of-" Moses, you talk just like him. "-where is Great-Uncle Ford?"

"Oh he's prob'ly off doin' unholy science in the basement." Stan knew very well what his brother was doing. He was sitting alone in the basement, trying to tear apart the portal, running purely on vodka and bourbon. Ironically, another bang sounded and rattled the frame of the house.

Stan and Dipper watched the axolotl float about in comfortable silence. Dipper dropped a couple pellets into the water and with a ferocity that should be strictly reserved for sharks, the axolotl snapped out and caught the tiny pellets in its little mouth. The two watched the little salamander swim around for a bit, its fronds flicking as Stan spoke up again. "So... ya got any other weird pets?"

"We had a compsognathus for a little while. It started stealing Great-Uncle Ford's pens, though." There was an unmistakable sadness in the boy's voice so Stan laid a hand on his shoulder. "We gave him to Farmer Sprott to take care of." Dipper pulled out his journal and showed the sketches of the chicken-sized dinosaur to Stan.

"Oh man that's cool. I'd love to go visit him if we can."

"Oh, yeah, we visit him every once in a while. He's really happy with Farmer Sprott." Dipper paused for a minute. "Did you ever see any dinosaurs in the multiverse?"

"No, I didn't. Woulda been cool though. Any other pets?"

"Yeah," Dipper took Stan's hand and led him out to a small pond a little ways into the forest. Stan was instantly on high alert. Dipper sat down by the bank but Stan stayed standing, surveying the area.

"Great-Uncle Ford has a pet plaidypus. He had this pond built a little after he found her. She was abandoned by her mother when she was a baby because her bill was cracked and her tail was damaged." Stan could immediately feel the hurt in his heart at that. Said pain only intensified when the strange red plaid patterned creature emerged from the water and rubbed up against Dipper's hand, beckoning pets. Dipper giggled and patted the weird little thing on the head, making its tail paff against the grass.

Stan just watched, frozen in curiosity and sadness when a little tug at his pant leg caught his attention. Looking down, he found an even smaller plaidypus chewing on his pant leg with the same chipped bill and malformed tail. The mother came over to retrieve her child and Stan just watched in wonder as mother and baby bonded, laying down in the grass together.

"What can you tell me about the axolotl you met?" Dipper spoke up softly, breaking Stan away from the pair of plaidypus. Deciding the place was safe enough, Stan sat down next to Dipper who took out a notepad and pen. As Stan began his story, he gesticulated wildly, completely enthralling Dipper.

"Well it was huge! Like the size of a whale!..."

----------

Remember: You are loved and cherished and we'd hate to lose you <3.

#gf fic #gift!#gravity falls #reverse portal au #dipper pines #stan pines #stanley pines

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6: A Room with a View

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,359

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, death mention, crying

Author’s Note: So, I already answered this, but just in case anyone missed it: I update this series weekly and I am still editing the vast majority of chapters! Sorry if it’s coming out slower than expected!

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @thecaptainsgingersnap @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @ggclarissa @voidnarnia @anonymousonion23

Steve had no idea what he’d done wrong. Not a clue. But you were ignoring him. You sat farther away from him in English the past two days, and you’d been blowing off plans with him. You’d say that you had other plans, but he’d see you sat on the bleachers after school, watching the girls soccer practise or drawing in that book again. He still didn’t know what you were doing in that book and he was irritated by the fact that he could see you sat in your room some days, caught in a lie without knowing it, your nose caught in the pages in front of you, pencil in between your teeth, focused but unaware of an audience. Steve could see right into your room from his when your curtains were open and you often sat at your desk, working in your pads.

On the day that Mr. Lawrence announced the start for the final essay, Steve had had enough. It had been a week of this behaviour and he felt as though he deserved an answer. And he was sick of watching through the window. Tommy and Carol were busy every damn day chasing Billy Hargrove, Vicki had gone back after him too after their awful date, and Tina wasn’t his friend. Sure, he could bug Dustin, but that made him feel like such a loser. His only friends were a rag tag group of preteens and a weird girl who wouldn’t even talk to him! This was getting pathetic.

The bell rang before Steve could make his move and you were out the door before he could even open his mouth. Tina rolled her eyes as she passed him by, grabbing Tina’s arm to whisper loudly “God, how tragic.” making Vicki cackle loudly.

Steve booked it out the door, scanning the halls for you, but you’d already disappeared from sight. He spotted Samantha, but she was on the retreat. He chose not to chase her down, they’d never even had a conversation before and using her to try to get her to spill on her friend felt a bit shitty. So he decided to just take a walk, no harm in a walk, it was a nice day anyway, out by the field. He wandered out the gym doors by the car park. He shoved his hands into his blue workman’s jacket. The weather was still a bit too chilly to go without a coat, but the sunshine made it easier.

He spotted you and Samantha at the top of the bleachers. You had your hair up that day and your lavender bomber jacket draped around your shoulders. Carol had something similar, or maybe it was Tina, he couldn’t remember which one the pair blurred into one being in his mind.

Samantha caught Steve’s eye before you did. She leaned over to you with a smirk “Lover boy’s watching.” She whispered cheekily, pointing slyly at him.

You turned immediately. Steve was standing in the car park, a few smattering of folks on car hoods, eating packed lunches and watching the scene go down. He waved, taking a step towards you. You turned your attention away.

Samantha was baffled. A week ago, you were telling her all about the weird fun you were having with him, all smiles and laughter, and now you wouldn’t even look at him for more than a second. You wouldn’t admit it, but Samantha knew that he was something more than a friend to you. Nobody was this upset when someone cancelled plans.

Steve turned away without a word. He wanted to scream at you, his mind demanding to know what he had done wrong. He made a plan that afternoon, one he was certain might ruin everything for him.

As soon as the three o’clock bell rang, Steve made a mad dash for his car. He didn’t leave immediately; instead he waited to see an expected sight. Once he saw you huddled and headed for the bleachers, he was sure that the girl’s team was practising. Then he drove off towards home, parking in his own driveway. His mother was home, a shock to him, but he still headed upstairs. The next part was tricky. He’d time out that practise ended at four thirty, but that you usually left at four since the walk was so long. At four twenty, he headed across the street. As always, the yellow Volkswagen sat in the driveway. He’d rarely ever seen it leave the driveway, but it gave him hope that someone was inside the house. You couldn’t be living alone as a senior. He bounded up the front steps, knocking on the door twice. He was nervous, switching his weight from his toes to his heels in a rocking motion forward and back, forward and back.

An older man opened the door. He had to be in his eighties, with age spots speckling him around his eyes like a second pair of wide frames behind his tortoise shell glasses. He seemed suspicious of Steve, although that was probably because he was staring.

“Hello,” he stuck out his hand for the man to shake “I’m Steve Harrington, I’m a friend of Y/N.” the man didn’t take his hand, staying silent as he looked him over.

Steve pressed on “I was wondering if she was home, we were supposed to study together today and she said that she’d call when she got home but I haven’t heard from her.” He chuckled awkwardly.

From behind the old man, a woman’s voice called “Harold, who’s there?”

“One of Y/N’s friends, she home yet?” he called back, opening the door wider. Steve could see the pale yellow walls, sun stained from the large three panel window at the front of their house.

Steve watched as an older woman hobbled into the scene, back hunched and skin thin. She looked frail, her hair dyed to what Steve assumed was its original shade, her grey roots visible from the top of her head. She greeted Steve with a warm smile. Steve was quick to offer his hand to shake, which she took carefully. “Hi, Steve Harrington, it’s nice to meet you both.” He said quickly, smiling brightly at the pair.

“Well hello there, I’m Maude and this is Y/N’s grandfather Harold, it’s lovely to meet you.” She said sweetly. “Why don’t you come inside, Y/N should be home any minute.”

Maude hit Harold’s arm roughly and he let go of the door, letting Steve into the house. He quickly kicked off his shoes, noting the pair’s socked feet. He looked around the house. Every house on the street was one of three standard box deals, with specified details. His parents hadn’t paid for the window seat like your family had, but you didn’t have the open kitchen that his did; an extra yellow wall separated the space. He looked to the fireplace, an exact copy of his family’s before their renovation last august. He missed the grey brick they used to have. You had a large family portrait on the mantle. You were sat in the centre in your Sunday best, your grandparents flanking the outside, two other adults stood closest to you. Steve assumed they were your parents. You looked like your father.

“You have a lovely home,” he said, turning his attention to the pair who were watching him intently.

“Thank you.” Maude smiled “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Sure.” Steve wasn’t much for tea, but he was taught not to refuse something offered by his host. Maude hurried off, leaving him and grumpy old Harold alone.

“Y/N doesn’t bring boys around.” Harold announced when his wife was out of the room. Steve didn’t really know what to say to that, luckily he continued “So what’re you trying to do with my girl?”

“Study,” Steve said with a shrug. The man scoffed, but Steve pressed on. “She’s my partner for our English final, we’re supposed to be working on it today, it’s due soon.”

Harold nodded gruffly “Alright…” he took a seat on the couch, turning the volume back on. The Love Boat was on, a rerun of the episode with guest stars the Captain and Tennille, and Steve was certain that they’d both seen it before.

Maude came in with a tray, handing her husband a mug. It was hand painted, thick script reading ‘Happy Father’s Day’ on the front, the year 1974 written in smaller script underneath in blue paint. She handed him a plain white mug.

“Well, Steve, you’re free to go and wait for Y/N upstairs, her room is two doors to the right of the stairs, you can’t miss it.” She said, gesturing to the stairwell. Steve bid his thanks and headed up the wide carpeted stairwell.

Harold mumbled something to his wife that Steve couldn’t hear, only catching her response. “He’s young, he doesn’t want to sit with us old folks.” She laughed at her own joke and Steve smiled at their friendly banter. They reminded him of his aunt and uncle, they always joked in that sort of way, laughing at themselves before anyone else. It made him feel as if he were at home in the house; he was comforted by the casualness of existence.

Maude was right that the room was impossible to miss. The door was covered in childlike butterflies painted in purple puffy paint. When he opened the bedroom door, he was transported into a small, private art gallery. The room was covered wall to wall in fabric canvases, canvas boards, and paper sketches. Your desk was covered in paint splotches and doodles carved into the wood, there were glow in the dark stars and moons on the blades of your ceiling fan. You’d painted your ceiling into a buttery sunset. It was as if for the first time, Steve was seeing all of you. And you were absolutely incandescent.

His hands went to roam your shelves, filled with sketchbooks and art books and worn copies of the classics. Greedily, he grabbed the first black sketchbook he found its pages heavy and curled. A piece of masking tape on the cover read ‘Still Life, 1980’ in black Sharpie. He flipped over the cover. Every page was the same bowl of fruit, some plain sketches, some painted in acrylics or water colours, but the fruit changed in shape and structure with every flip, rotting more with each sketch until the image switched to a vase of sunflowers, a prim and proper version of the Van Gogh he’d seen a print of in his freshman year art class. He wondered if you’d been there, silently making your own master pieces. He wondered how many masterpieces you had hidden away in your big black book.

The door opened behind him before he could put the sketch book away. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” you snapped, bounding towards him. When your grandmother told you that your friend from school was upstairs waiting for you, you had a sinking feeling that you knew who it was. And seeing him rifling through your things made your blood boil.

Steve turned slowly, unsure what to say. You snatched the pad out of his hands “And who the fuck gave you permission to look at my stuff, you pervert!” You knew that he hadn’t done anything actually perverted, but you still felt violated.

“I can’t get you to talk to me, I figured coming here would at least make you see me.” Steve laughed a bit, unable to even process what was happening. In the back of his mind, he thought that this would be an effortlessly cool way to go about a solution. Like you’d see him in your room and think ‘wow…what an effort that was…’ Instead, you were furious.

“So, you thought that coming into my house without telling me, lying to my grandparents, and touching my stuff would make it better.” You raised an eyebrow, shoving your sketchbook onto the shelf.

“What was I supposed to do? You won’t answer my calls, you won’t talk to me, I can’t get you to look at me for more than a second and all I want to know is what I did wrong so I can fix it!” Steve cried, words tumbling out of his mouth. You both stared at each other for a moment, surprised by each other, your mouth hanging silently ajar.

You closed it fast, swallowing before speaking “You…you hurt my feelings.” You said softly, pushing past him to put distance between you, standing next to your desk and the window.

“How did I hurt your feelings?” Steve asked quietly, watching you carefully even as you stared defiantly out the window.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest “You cancelled our plans. For Vicki.”

“So?” Steve asked.

“So, I don’t cancel on you. I never cancel on you, especially not the day of. It hurt my feelings.” You explained, picking at a bit of lint on your sweater.

“Yeah, but I…” he tried to catch himself before he said something terrible, but you already knew what filled in the blank.

“What? You have more friends than me? Is that it?” you snapped. It was Steve’s turn to look away, but you pressed on. “You’re right, you do have more friends than me. But don’t act like I don’t have a social life without you. I do. Do you know how many games of Samantha’s I’ve skipped out on to help you study? How many practises she’s asked me to come and watch that I’ve said no to because I already had plans with you?”

“I don’t know…” Steve muttered. Embarrassment crept up his face. He felt like such a dick. In truth he had forgotten about your plans that day in the excitement of a date with Vicki. With hindsight in full effect he could see that he would’ve had twice as much fun with you eating greasy burgers then he did with Vicki driving around Hawkins.

“Well, it’s been a lot. And it’s not the fact that you went out with Vicki that upset me, you are free to date whoever you want. But can you please at least tell me if you’re cancelling a little sooner than mere minutes before?” you asked, your voice cracking on the end.

“Sure, yeah of course. I should’ve been doing that before.” Steve stumbled over his words to apologize.

“Okay.” You nodded “Now, why are you going through my shit?”

“I wanted to see more. This whole room is incredible.” Steve breathed, plopping down on your mattress.

“You think?” you asked quietly. In truth, you didn’t think that you were that good of an artist. You loved art, but you didn’t think you were exactly talented.

“It’s so cool!” you couldn’t help but laugh, or else you’d cry. Nobody ever talked about your art with such enthusiasm. Teachers only criticized mistakes and your mother and grandparents saw it as clutter. Samantha liked some stuff but she didn’t talk about it much. Even a simple compliment from Steve made you want to cry. You covered your mouth to avoid the tears.

Steve didn’t seem to notice, wandering the room to point out pieces he thought were interesting. He pointed to a canvas depicting the quarry. You’d camped out there one night in the summer; drawing until the sun fades out of the sky and then painting it out once you had it exactly right. “This one is just insane I mean it looks like it’s going to eat you whole, like it has teeth or something.” He exclaimed.

“You can have it.” You replied quickly.

Steve shook his head “No, I couldn’t I mean don’t you want it? For college apps or something?” he couldn’t take it, he’d feel too guilty.

You shrugged “I have enough stuff for at least three portfolios, you should have that one if you like it so much. It’ll make your room cooler.”

“Hey, my room is cool.” Steve pouted, making you laugh harder. He liked your laugh, it split your whole face open into a smile. And your smile looked as if it sat on a bed of clouds. He wanted to float along with it forever.

“Oh yeah, your pee wee t-ball participation trophy is real slick, it gets you all the chicks.” You drawling, bouncing on your mattress.

“Hey, you didn’t run when you saw it.” Steve shrugged, sitting down next to you.

“Eh, your baby sports escapades don’t frighten me. It adds character to know that you suck at something.” You replied. Steve thought briefly of the bat in his trunk and the weight of it mid-swing, connecting with a heavy skull. Better with a bat now then he was as an elementary schooler.

You both lay back on the mattress, staring up at the slowly turning fan. Steve turned to you “What’d you think of Vicki anyway?” he asked.

“Honestly?” Steve nodded “I think she’s a bitch.” Steve laughed loudly but you pressed on “She is! She’s so mean for no reason!”

“Yeah, she’s not cool. She spent our whole date bitching about people, saying a lot of shit about you.” Steve murmured.

“What’d you…” you didn’t know if you could ask how he responded. You bit your tongue before finishing the sentence.

Steve understood anyway “I told her the truth. That you’re a really cool chick and that she shouldn’t be such a bitch about people she doesn’t know.” He said simply, turning his attention back to the slowly moving stars.

You didn’t necessarily believe that he actually defended you. Still, you didn’t feel like arguing. Steve continued on in your silence. “So, do you live with your grandparents’ full time? Or do your parents just work?” he asked.

“Both,” you sighed softly “My mom’s not home very much so they take care of me. She’s a fashion photographer, travels all over the world for different magazines.”

“What about your dad?” Steve asked. He’d seen a younger man in the photo; he assumed that it was some kind of father figure.

“He died.” You muttered.

“Oh…” Steve didn’t know how to react to that. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize.

“She killed him.” You couldn’t help yourself from saying that. Anger still stewed into your bones whenever you thought about your parents.

“What?” Steve to fully look at you, flabbergasted.

“She worked him to death. She always wanted more and farther away from us. Trips to Europe, designer things, this stupid house. She killed him.” You wiped hard at your face, trying to keep the hot tears from streaming down your face. Steve didn’t say anything, he simply pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly into him and letting you cry. He patted your hair gently, trying to soothe you as best he could. He didn’t think he was very good at helping people in their pain. But you grabbed onto his middle and clung to him like a life raft.

“My parents aren’t that great either.” He muttered, unsure if he was helping at all. “They ignore me.”

“I-I’m sorry they do that…” you muttered, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. Steve melted. He absolutely melted. He was filled with the sudden urge to kiss you, which surprised him. He didn’t follow through with the urge; he didn’t know how you’d take it.

“I’m sorry he’s not here for you…” he replied, petting your hair softly. He stayed with you like that for what felt like hours, letting you cling to him and ruin his shirt with tears. He didn’t care. He needed to be there for you. He promised himself that he wouldn’t hurt you again. That he’d be more careful and pay more attention. He couldn’t bear to see you in this much pain again. He knew that you weren’t crying because of him, but if he could keep you from feeling even an ounce of this sort of pain again, he would.

He cared about you too much to ever let you suffer alone again.

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moonelf19 · 4 years

Text

Episode 115 Widofjord Highlights

I’m late for a livewatch but also consider! I am late for the monday youtube release. Time to get those crumbs though!

20:20 Fjord asks Caleb for some paper, “just a scrap”. Caleb happily hands over “5 or 6 complete pieces of paper, whatever you need.” Jester reminds the disaster casters that Calebs paper is expensive (and rare, and wow someone had to remind Caleb that his paper is precious? Excuse me?) and hands over her sketchbook instead. Fjord is happy to take the sketchbook and insists Caleb keep his paper in case Dagen screws up the map. At about 20:45 Caleb/Liam makes a wincing face and tilts his head kind of sassy, like “well fine my paper isn’t good enough for you”.

23:00 Caleb starts the conversation about Vess being dead and the consequences. At first he seems to be talking to Fjord about “keeping an eye out”, likely because Fjord can cast see invisibility and see scrying eyes. At the 25′ mark Fjord asks what they should do about Vess, right after Veth was talking, but he is turned to and directs the question to Caleb. Caleb posits some short term solutions and Fjord redirects back to ask “she’s in your amber, right?”

Caleb: Yes

Fjord: If someone tried to scry, like we did on Molly, would they just see your necklace?

Caleb: Well-

Cut to them trying to remember how scry works, if a dead person can be scried on.

Fjord: Should I give you your pendant back?

Fjord: As long as no one can track the item inside your necklace, again, like for the crystal clove.

Caleb: That was a whole other thing entirely, I believe.

The group gets distracted by the term “crystal clove” but Travis keeps looking over to Liam- I think he/Fjord is still really bothered that the crystal was tracked in the pendant and, dare I say it, I want him to confront Caleb about it. Because Travis seemed pretty upset and referred to it as “false advertising” during talks machina iirc. Give me the drama, bois. But Liam/Caleb diverts and calls out to Dagen, ending the rp moment.

52:28 Caleb opts to have Frumpkin keep Fjord company on first watch.

54:09 Fjord notices the scrying orb and calls out to wake Caleb up. They proceed to have a painfully awkward not-conversation conversation while they panic because they didn’t come up with a plan for if Fjord saw anything and neither remember that it’s probably a scrying orb.

Fjord: We’re making good time heading to the most eastern destination. *gestures toward the orb with his head*

Caleb: We could certainly go further. *looks that way and sees nothing* We could probably go farther.

Fjord: Yep, yep. Well that’s it!

Caleb: I don’t think I can go to sleep now, Fjord.

Fjord: Yes, yes...

Fjord proceeds to threaten whoever is scrying, and Matt clarifies whether he is attuned to the necklace. Travis admits that he swapped out the ring of fire resistance for the call-blocking pendant. Liam says that someday, someone will inherit that ring and it will be really meaningful, clearly trying to help Travis save face but Travis seems to kind of embrace his impulse purchases.

58:43

Fjord: *moves back over to Caleb* There was another scrying. Sphere. Eye. Someone is watching.

Caleb, who is making eye contact with Fjord: Great. Take your pick on who wants us dead.

Fjord: The Empire? The Dynasty? Molly?

Caleb: *scoffs, smiles at Fjord* My money is on the Tiefling.

Fjord: Our scent, he said.

Caleb: ... scent. Our blood?

Fjord: *nods and smiles* Our blood. Do you have any idea how to counteract that? Blood magic?

Caleb: If it’s that, I do not. Gods, it’s cold.

Fjord: ... It is...

Liam looked like he was going to say something else, but Travis says he will keep an eye out and we cut to the next watch.

1:04:54 Caleb uses control flame to make the bonfire flare.

Fjord: Awesome! *basks in the warmth*

1:08:06 Dagen made everyone breakfast and is ribbing them about being noobs to the cold.

Fjord: We learned a lesson, yes? Hard lesson learned. All the wiser for it? Seasoned travelers.

Caleb: So much character built last night.

Fjord: So much. Bushels of character.

1:15:32 At the distraction pillar-

Fjord: Caleb you couldn’t read any of these markings, right? That’s not a language, or-

Caleb: I assume I would’ve been able to if it’s by sight.

Jester: You don’t have to cast anything anymore, you can just read things?

Fjord: *has no reason to have this confidence* Yep!

Caleb: Well I mean, I have done a lot of stuff for a long time.

Jester: How many languages do you speak?

Caleb: Four.

Beau: I can read five! I know more languages than you!

Jester: Beau you’re so smart-

Fjord: Okay, it’s not a competition >:(

Sorry, but Fjord, keep it in your pants. Jeez. You’re heart eyes are so loud rn.

Also I want to point out that Travis accurately called that trying to pull the gem out kills you. Smart dude. Still embarrassingly soft for Caleb.

1:20:34

Travis: This is literally the stupidest thing we could be doing. We should just keep going, right?

Liam: This pivoted the entire campaign one, what we are fucking with right now.

Travis: Yeup! We should just go.

Liam: The necromancy thing.

Travis: Let’s keep going.

... Liam: I am going to use telekinesis to pull the gem out.

Travis: And there goes our wizard.

A few minutes and 52 points of damage later.

Travis/Fjord/??: How far is your telekinesis range?

Liam: Exactly 60 feet!

Travis: Yeah yeah just kind of like *puts hand out*

Jester: Heal him!

Travis: Nah he’s fine!

Caleb: No you need to heal me!

Travis: Turn into a T-Rex!

1:27:03, literally a few seconds after the T-Rex comment

Jester: I don’t have cure wounds >_>

Fjord: I will, at 5th level, cast cure wounds on Caleb.

Laura: aww that’s so sweet :)

Fjord: 29 points of healing :)

1:30:17 Caleb gets shit kicked by the pillar again and starts peeling off his coat, looks like death, and Travis is like “its a point of pride!” Caleb rolls up his sleeves. Travis says “LETS GO!” Caleb gets mad at telekinesis and uses Cat’s Ire, still fails. Throws a snowball. Travis says it his the ground and rolls and Liam is like “makes it maybe halfway there”

1:35:23 Jester paints “BIG EMERALD HERE” with an arrow pointing down

Caleb Neutral... Good? Ok?: Oh that’s murder! *big smile* That’s going to bring people right to that!

Jester, Chaotic Neutral: They should be smarter than that :)

Fjord, Lawful Good: Jester, I don’t know, that seems like a bit much...

Cad: If I had seen that I wouldn’t have touched it.

Jester: Right?

Fjord: I would’ve (we know)

Caleb: That’s like a cave that says ‘Free Cupcakes’

Jester: Oh, well, when you say it like that...

Fjord: See? Yeah. *nods at Caleb*

Caleb: *smiles and points at Fjord*

Fjord: It all depends.

Caleb: You just have to attack it from the right angle sometimes.

Fjord: *smiles at Caleb*

As they leave the pillar Caleb tries to cast dispel magic. When it fails, Liam makes a very angry face and flips double middle fingers at Matt/the pillar.

Fjord: It’s ok! It’s ok. We’ll probably come back by this way. We’ll get it another day.

1:39:18 Liam gets a little lost looking at his spells again

Fjord: Cah-leb?

Caleb: Yeah ok.

New Achievement: Pet name for your lover

1:44:21

Jester: Waffle cornbread!

Beau: Does such a thing exist?

Fjord: If the cats can’t make it, I mean, who can?

Fjord is the ultimate hype man.

2:03:00

Travis: Is that a real story or did you write that?

Liam: I wrote it. Today.

Travis: *looks incredibly impressed but trying to hide it* Sure. Sure.

This is now a Travis and Liam friendship blog. Soft. Good. Pure.

2:53:45 Caleb turns Cad into a mammoth and Fjord/Travis is hype. Again. He also wants to see Caleb try to punch a yeti.

3:04:50 Fjord runs up to the yeti in melee with Caleb and does a pushing strike to get the yeti away.

3:32:16 Travis is broken, staring at his table. Laura points it out.

Travis: The necrotic stone? We can’t leave it alone. The yetis? We invite them to fucking dinner.

Excuse me, you say “we” but what you mean is “Caleb” sir.

3:59:20 Travis pops his fidget toy :( not widofjord but let’s all have a moment of silence for what cannot be the first time he’s done that. Can we start sending our recommendations for good fidget toys?

4:03:43 Fjord starts walking into the cave while the others are still debating the plan, and Caleb immediately follows him. When the others ask if Frumpkin will lead, Liam begins to describe using Fjord to steady himself to scout via Frumpkin before Matt cuts him off to close out the episode.

That’s it for this week! Let’s see what talks machina with Liam has for us >:)

#widofjord #critical role #did i have to rewatch the whole episode because my brain is fried?#yeah #yeah i did #the vibe of the show is way different at 1.5 speed #this got so LOOONG #and some of the Travis and Liam interactions were so good I had to include them!#no i did NOT stay up till 6am re-watching and taking notes PFFFT #i am an ADULT

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silvia7272 · 5 years

Text

ML Salt Songfic ~ 1 Good For You

I actually forgot about this, but I think I can put it out now considering you’ve all read about/seen my OC Rosina, if you haven’t it’s on my page. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and like the song.

Also, this is an AU of my AU? I guess that’s what I’m calling it yeah. So, it’s not canon and it never was going to be canon, when I heard this song it just inspired me to write this and I could’ve done it without my OC, but I wanted to include her. Well anyway, I hope you like it.

Word Count: 2553

Tags: @queenmj10, @fangirl39, @animegirlweeb, @northernbluetongue, @daminett4life, @raisuke06, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @luleck, @themamaravenclaw, @emmathedestroyer, (I know you wanted it) if you wish to be tagged all you have to do is say. Sorry, it’s different but this was the reason I started posting in the first place.

***

Akuma Alert! Akuma Alert!

The alarms were blaring in the park, and yet no one could move from their place.

Because the Akuma was right in front of them.

It was Marinette, she had been Akumatized. But it seemed somewhat unusual, she didn’t look any different, but they had seen the purple mist cover her, maybe she was like Chameleon?

So then why did it feel like it had changed?

Adrien couldn’t tell, and he needed to transform into Chat Noir, but he couldn’t just leave his friends to deal with the Akuma alone? Right?

Lila didn’t think that, she tried to make her escape, but a musical note blocked her way. She really was Akumatized!

Her face was contorted with pain as the pink mask covered her face, she was trying to break free!

“C’mon Marinette, you can do it,” He shouted, He tried to reach out, but someone pulled him back.

“Are you crazy, she’s been Akumatized she’ll hurt you, it’s what she’s always done to us. She’s already gotten her other friends hurt because of that transformation!?” Lila spoke, gripping his arm like a lifeline. But it was true, Rosina, Kagami, Chloé and Luka all tried to reach out to her mid-transformation, but they all fell to the ground and no one was brave enough to check on them.

“Shut up!” It was the first time Marinette had spoken since she had been Akumatized, tears were raining down her face, but the blond couldn’t tell if she was talking to the class or Hawkmoth.

“Just shut up, stop lying already, just stop hurting me” She had to be talking about Hawkmoth, she must still be fighting it.

But not everyone thought that.

“Come on Marinette, for once just admit you were wrong already. It’s getting really tiring.” Alya rolled her eyes while reciting how that was the only reason, she got Akumatized in the first place, the piece of paper she was holding had been a music draft of Lila’s that she was going to throw away in the first place.

Everyone knew Marinette didn’t write songs, she only made clothes and baked treats, that the class wasn’t provided with the past few days, and Adrien did think it was strange that she had a music draft, she probably found it and would’ve returned it to its rightful owner.

Why was she so upset about it anyway?

But she stopped, she lifted her head up, her face full of shock.

“You… Really still think I’m lying?” She sounded so disheartened, and Adrien would’ve sent her a ‘don’t rock the boat anymore’ look but she didn’t even spare him a glance.

Weren’t they friends?

“Of course, Lila’s so talented at making song lyrics so she had someone write them down for her. And now you’re holding onto a draft claiming it to be your own, that’s pathetic, even for someone like Chloé never mind you. Just stop being so pathetic and admit it. You’re jealous of Lila and everything she could do for us while you did nothing but whine like a child!” Adrien thought that the last line was a bit overkill, but he wasn’t about to say anything.

But all of that struggling, all of that resistance had completely vanished from Marinette. Why had she given up? Why hadn’t she continued fighting?

“I’ll show you my Melody” It was a whisper that only Adrien was able to pick up. Melody? What did she mean by that?

But he didn’t have time to think of that before everything in his vision turned white. He couldn’t feel his body. He couldn’t move… He couldn’t…

***

“Adrien? Yo Adrien, wake up man” He groaned as he opened his eyes.

“Nino? Is everyone alright? Where are we? What happened? Where’s Marinette?” Nino put his hands up startled.

“Whoa easy there one at a time dude. Anyway, yeah, we’re fine, we don’t know it looks like a white void, Marinette happened and we don’t know”

He couldn’t believe it. When he took in the view, it was devoid of life, it was devoid of colour.

It was just white all around him, he didn’t understand it. It reminded him of Pixelator.

“Oh Adrien I’m so scared, what are we going to do?” He couldn’t shake her arm off so had to relent, everyone around him tried to console the girl.

“Stick together, there should be an exit around here, but I’ll post it on the Ladyblog, that way Ladybug and Chat Noir will come.” He sighed, knowing that his Lady would be all alone for this one.

“Hey, my phones not working!” The others then tried to get their phones. No result.

“Oh no we’re trapped in here and no one is going to save us! What do we do!?” Everyone was panicking, but what could he do, if Chat Noir were to show up now, they would all get suspicious.

Nathaniel wasn’t doing great either. But he stepped back and heard a crunch.

“Huh?” He looked down and found a note.

“What’s that?” Max noticed the discovery and went over to Nath to see what it was.

“It says [The Song Of Truth Is Your Only Escape In This Labyrinth] What does that mean?”

“And why is it on a music sheet?” A simple question they all couldn’t process.

♫I’ll never know why I ever wanted to restore my friendship with you!?♫ The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. But he knew who it was.

“Marinette stop this please, we can get through this together” He shouted, he had to get her to stop being so angry.

♫Silence. I am Marilody, Marinette is no more. And you will all be punished for your lies and harassment towards your students! My friends!♫ It was there that she revealed herself.

If it wasn’t for her hair and dress, she would’ve been camouflaged with the background. But she didn’t look like a regular Akuma, no.

Her skin was pure white, along with the white flowing dress she wore. It was embroidered with musical notes, similar doodles he had seen previously on her sketchbook. It was shoulderless with the same pattern, and her hair was the same colour but in a small ponytail to the side. Her eyes were hidden by a giant accessory in the shape of a musical note resembling a hat.

If Ladybug didn’t already occupy his heart, Adrien might be thinking Marinette was more than a friend.

“Marinette please, you’re stronger than this! Don’t let Hawkmoth-”

♫Hawkmoth isn’t controlling me! The one who made me become Marilody is myself. And I will show you the truth of what I can and have done for you selfish people, my Melody will be performed before you and you will see the truth!♫

They heard the sound of a guitar being played. And notes in the air with a red dot flowing through it.

“What’s going on?” Rose and Juleka huddled together along with Ivan, Mylène, Nino and Alya scared. He was scared. He had the power to protect them but couldn’t use it. You could sense the irony looming over the boy’s head.

♫So you found a place where the grass is greener And you jumped the fence to the other side♫

The class was treated to a front-row seat of a scene that had just happened mere moments ago. When they were at the park.

Just what was Marinette’s power?

♫Is it good? Are they giving you a world I could never provide?♫

The scene cut to Lila being crowded around by everyone while Marinette was alone.

But she was still smiling. Even if it seemed fake.

♫Well I hope you’re proud of your big decision Yeah, I hope it’s all that you want and more♫

They saw the past of when Marinette was always handing out free pastries to them, wearing that happy and bright smile on her face, they had forgotten what it had looked like.

Because it was never directed towards them anymore.

They had forgotten.

Everything she had done for them.

♫Now you’re free, from the agonizing life you were living before~♫

Then it changed to everyone leaving her for Lila, she was telling a tale of her time in Achu, Rose couldn’t stop gushing about Prince Ali. He thought the lies wouldn’t hurt anyone.

♫And you say what you need to say So that you get to walk away It would kill you to have to stay trapped when you’ve got something new♫

They couldn’t move.

♫Well I’m sorry you had it rough And I’m sorry I’m not enough♫

Everything single thing Marinette had done for them had flashed in front of them.

♫Thank God ‘they rescued’ you♫

But then Lila appeared, and everything she said was almost out of a fairy-tale, it was amazing, they wanted to hear more. They needed to hear more of her adventures.

♫So you got what you always wanted? So you got your dream come true? Good for you Good for you, you, you!♫

They were addictive. They couldn’t get enough.

♫Got a taste of a life so perfect So you did what you had to do Good for you Good for you!♫

Marinette had vanished from view but the scenes were still playing. The blond needed to find a way to free himself. He needed to get Plagg to cause a mini-explosion, to cause a distraction maybe. Anything! But he couldn’t get to him in time. Because he saw someone who he hadn’t seen since at the park.

“Rosina?” They all turned their heads to their new red-haired friend. But Adrien was able to notice, the Cat Miraculous had certain side effects he was giddy to have but that’s not the point. Instead of a black pupil, it was a musical note.

“She’s under Marinette’s control” They all gasped, horrified at what had happened to their friend. They believed her being near Marinette was bad, never mind this!

♪Does it cross your mind to be slightly sorry?♪

She really was under her spell! Adrien desperately wanted to shake her awake and free her, but now his arms couldn’t move.

♬Do you even care that you might be wrong?♬

Kagami!? Oh god, his two friends were under Marinette’s friends. He watched as they circled each and every one of his friends.

♬Was it fun?♬

They flinched.

♪Well, I hope you had a blast while you dragged me along~♪

They started to walk away when there was a whine from Lila, they were still able to turn their heads and saw Chloé, she kept prodding Lila as she cried, he wasn’t able to tell if they were even fake tears anymore.

♩And you say what you need to say! And you play who you need to play! And if somebody’s in your way! Crush them and leave them behind!♩

Even if they wanted to help Lila they couldn’t. Their legs wouldn’t let them. It was like they were in quicksand, only they weren’t sinking into the ground, they were sinking into their sorrow and sadness they were feeling. If Marinette wasn’t already Akumatized Hawkmoth would be having a field day.

♮Well I guess if I’m not of use Go ahead, you can cut me loose♮

And then they saw it.

A scene that shocked them.

♮Go ahead now, I won’t mind♮

If her power was to sing the truth.

And all of the scenes had been of the truth.

They felt sick to their stomach.

Then the scene of Lila cornering Marinette in the bathroom must’ve been true as well.

If Lila had been so kind to everyone why were the words [Soon you won’t have any friends left at all. Trust me. You will lose your friends and wind up all alone] written underneath, they couldn’t think anymore, just look.

♫I’ll shut my mouth and I’ll let you go Is that good for you? Would that be good for you, you, you?♫

Some couldn’t believe, they kept screaming how it had to be wrong, how it might just be Marinette’s doing. But the more it came on, the more they started to believe.

♭I’ll just sit back while you run the show Is that good for you? Would that be good for you, you, you?♭

Just like how they should’ve believed Marinette, and they had only just realised their mistake.

♯All I need is some time to think♯ Max. He never needed time to think, he was the smartest one in the class.

♭(I’ll shut my mouth and I’ll let you go)♭

♯But the boat is about to sink♯ Rose. Wasn’t she meant to be the kindest one out of everyone? Why didn’t she give Marinette a chance?

♭(Is that good for you?)♭

♯Can’t erase what I wrote in ink♯ Alix. She had written some things on her desk once… Twice… She had lost count.

♭(Would that be good for you, you, you?)♭

♯Tell me how could I change the story?♯ Lila. She had been caught, and she needed to spin her story. Fast!

♯All the words that I can’t take back♯ Alya. All those mean comments claiming Marinette was a bully. She was the bully. Weren’t they friends? Besties? She didn’t deserve to be called anything like that.

♭(I’ll just sit back while you run the show)♭

♯Like a train coming off the track♯ Kim. He wanted this pain to end, he should’ve trusted her, she had been the one to console everyone before an Akuma had gotten to them. And they treat her like this?

♭(Is that good for you?)♭

♯‘Cause the rails and my bones all crack♯ Nino. They had been childhood friends! How could he think she was lying!?

♭(For You!)♭

♯I’ve got to find a way to♯

♯Stop it, stop it! Just let me out!♯ Adrien. If only she had told him Lila had threatened her, if only he had done more, taking more of the brunt, if only- no he had to stop, he had to accept it was all his fault. He could’ve stopped it, but he was afraid he’d never get to see his friends again. He had to accept that he had hurt Marinette so much she had been Akumatized. He had to accept that- maybe he couldn’t save her, after all, you could never really trust someone who had betrayed you… Right?

♭So you got what you always wanted So you got your dream come true Good for you Good for you, you, you♭

They were sorry.

But images of Marinette gone from their life terrified them.

♭Got a taste of a life so perfect Now you say that you’re someone new Good for you Good for you Good for you Good! For! You!♭

But what would it matter? She probably would never want to speak to them ever again.

♭So you got what you always wanted!♭

What had they done?

They had seen the truth.

All of it.

But they didn’t have time to dwell on that, because as they continued to watch the scenes in front of them, they couldn’t help but feel slightly tired. Only a bit… Maybe if they had a small nap it would… Help.

♫The truth will come out… There will be no more lies for anyone… Anymore♫

***

End. I changed a word for Lila because I thought it would fit better. They, in the song, are Lila and a bit of Adrien. Originally, I wasn’t going to make a two-parter, however, if anyone has an idea I could use, and then a song as well, I will consider continuing this to become a two-shot. Or even if someone wants to continue this? Feel free to do so, just tag me, please.

Well, I hope you enjoyed it and I hope you have a nice day.

youtube

Edit 1: This is how Marilody looks like, I thought she’d look a bit more fashionable since you know, Marinette. and since she has more control hawkmoth didn't design her.

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p-artsypants · 4 years

Text

Longest Night (45) Adjusting

Ao3 | FF.net

The few days they had spent at the Dupain-Cheng bakery so far were like a vacation. Not that their routines were much different…a lot of naps, video games, TV, reading…sometimes, Adrien would sit at the keyboard with headphones and tap out a tune. Whenever Marinette asked what he was playing, he’d just give her a little shrug and admit, “it’s not ready yet.”

The dinners with just Tom and Sabine were a lot more relaxed and warm, and they were usually followed with board games or a movie. At night, Adrien and Marinette would sit out on her balcony under a blanket, just enjoying the view of Paris.

Just in general, the bakery felt more like a home than whatever the mansion was. Marinette’s loft bed was cozy, and provided privacy and comfort. Like a cradle or a cocoon. Many nights, Marinette and Adrien would sit up late, talking about anything and everything, or sometimes nothing at all. Allowing the soothing presence of the other to fill the silence. Yes, the move proved to be for the best. Marinette’s room provided an environment that aided healing, and allowed the two to indulge in old hobbies. Marinette had yet to touch her sewing machine, but she had sketched a little in a sketchbook. It was the start that counted.

“You remember when you asked me to get that constipation medication for you from England?” Adrien asked one night, late.

Marinette had almost been asleep, but she groaned. “Ugh, yeah? Why did you have to remind me?”

“What was that about? I just assumed it was something we couldn’t get in France…but I wanted to do the friendly thing. But honestly, it’s been on my mind for a while now.”

She pushed up, propping up on one arm so she could look down at him. “First of all, that medicine wasn’t for me. It was for Master Fu.”

“Wait what? Why?”

“So here’s the story: He got really sick and asked me to deliver a love letter to his sweetheart. He wanted to connect with her in case it was the end. The doctor gave me the prescription. And because Master Fu was taking the leap to confess, I thought I would too, so I wrote you a letter. So I delivered a piece of paper to Master Fu’s girl, the pharmacist, and to you.”

“Oh no…”

“I gave Fu’s letter to the pharmacist, the prescription to you, and my letter to Fu’s girlfriend, which was so bad that it got her akumatized!”

“Oh my lady…I’m sure it was lovely, just out of context.”

“That was probably my worst attempt.” She groaned, rolling away from him.

“Worse attempt? There were others?”

“Good night, Adrien.”

He snuggled up behind her, whispering into her ear. “Please tell me your failures, my precious lady.”

She groaned again, kicking the blankets off of her legs so that she could sit up and face him. “Fine, you know what? Because of Alya, all of Paris already knows how hopelessly in love with you I was. And because of Lila, you know how much of a stalker I was.”

“A cute stalker.”

“Gee thanks.” She rolled her eyes. “God, where do I even start? Oh…you know that blue scarf that you got for your birthday one year?”

“Yeah?”

“It was actually from me. I don’t know how the mix up happened, but you thought it was from your father. It made you happy, so I let it be.”

Adrien leaned closer to her, his mouth opening in awe. “My lady…”

“That beret that Ladybug hand delivered was also from me. That was my closest attempt, but I had to erase my name on it…”

“Whatever for? I would have cherished it more! It’s collecting dust in my closet somewhere now.”

Marinette looked away, trying to find the words to explain. The beret brought up so many sour memories, and even more trauma that she didn’t need right now.

“My lady?”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned that one. It’s stupid.”

“Don’t shut me out,” he begged. “Please. I can’t stand it when you shut me out. I want to know everything about you, Marinette. You’re my best friend…and my wife. For better or for worse, right?”

She nodded, swallowing the thickness in her throat. “The first time I dropped it off at your house, I was shortly after stopped by Bunnyx. She said she needed my help because something had gone wrong in the future. So she took me into her burrow and dropped me off in Paris…” She shut her eyes, exhaling harshly. She had never gotten to tell anyone about this, and it weighed on her heavily, even after all this time.

“In Paris…?” Adrien urged her on.

“It was flooded. The Eiffel tower was toppled, and I could see the moon in the distance, completely shattered. You were there, all alone, and…akumatized.”

“Into Grimalkin?”

She shook her head. “Chat Blanc. All white suit, hair, even your skin was pale. And your eyes were piercing blue.”

He frowned, imagining that image.

“You knew my name, and you said it was our love that destroyed the world. We fought, and I fell in the water, where I found myself and Hawkmoth frozen in stone. I touched my statue and it turned to dust. I don’t know how long you’d been like that. But you were desperate to get my earrings. You said…you said a lot of terrible things. It was horrible to see you like that…so deranged, so lost and unhinged. A little like Grimalkin, to be honest.”

“I assume you won.”

“Yes, but you still knew my name afterwards. I realized that in that timeline, learning my identity led to you becoming an Akuma. And I figured, you, Adrien-you, must have seen me leaving your room when I left that beret for you. And somehow that led to my identity. So, I erased my name.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that earlier? That couldn’t have been fun to keep bottled up.”

“It wasn’t. But...I prevented it. So it never happened. It was just a bad dream.”

“But...it wasn’t. Your Miraculous Ladybug undoes all the damage akumas do. It’s like those never happened, but the memories remain. Why is it different if you’re the only one that remembers?”

Marinette shrugged. “I guess I just didn’t want to worry you. I’m sorry.”

Adrien leaned forward to bump his head with hers, affectionately. “As long as we’re being honest about erased timelines...there’s something I should have talked to you about too.”

“What’s that?”

“Aspik.”

“Oh…that’s right! You used the Snake and Second Chance for a while.”

“25,913 times.” He answered, his voice portraying the pain the number brought.

“How do you remember?”

“Every time I restarted, the number flashed in front of my eyes. It went up and up…every five minutes. Every time I lost you. Every time you turned to dust. Every time I failed.”

“You tried so hard…”

“You insisted that you needed the snake, and that you didn’t need Chat Noir. Several times.”

“But it was only when you passed the snake onto Luka that we won. I did need you. I always need you, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t.”

“Plagg warned me. Over and over, he said I was making a mistake. And I kept shutting him down. I was being selfish. Every time I restarted, I got five more minutes with you, as Adrien, not as Chat Noir. I wanted to do so good you’d fall in love with me. But I just ended up hurting myself, because I kept letting you down. It was so painful…”

“I’m sorry for putting that burden on you. That wasn’t fair.”

“You couldn’t have known.” He sighed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. There was still plenty of trauma to work through, but getting this out of the way paved the road for clearing his head. “I’m sorry for traumatizing you in another timeline too. I know I’m not at fault for that, but I hate that any version of me hurt you.”

Marinette held his face gently, letting her thumb roll over his cheek bones. Her mother’s cooking had done well to fill in his face, but there was still a sunken look to him. His cheeks and his eyes especially.

“You’re wonderful to me, Adrien. Always have been, in and out of the suit. And even with all the pain, trauma, and sadness…I’d still rather be with you than anyone else.”

“I feel the same. I feel connected to you. It might sound corny, but I feel it right down into my soul. When I was in solitary, there were moments where I would just hold my breath and see if I could feel you. If maybe I could somehow sense if you were still alive or not.” He looked away from her. “That sounds insane. I’m sorry.”

“No. No it doesn’t.” She urged. “I did the same thing. Sometimes during akuma fights, I can tell when something bad happened to you. I’m sure it’s because of the bond of our Miraculous, but I had hoped it had extended beyond that.”

Tikki’s sleepy voice spoke from the bedside table. “You really felt that way?”

“Oh, sorry Tikki, did we wake you?”

“A little. But it’s okay. Are you really able to tell when Chat’s harmed?”

“I…think so? Yeah…even when I don’t see him, I can feel a little pain.”

“That does happen, but not usually so early into a partnership. but…you both have gone through a lot together. It would make sense.”

“So...we are bonded?” Asked Adrien.

“Loosely. It’ll grow stronger the longer you’re together. A pair of holders in their 80’s were able to read each other’s minds!”

“Oh wow! That’s...that’s a little daunting.”

“I’m not crazy then,” Adrien stated, with a hand over his heart. “Pretending like we were connected was just about the only thing that kept me going through solitary. I thought that maybe…maybe as long as my heart was beating, yours was too.”

Marinette fell forward into him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his chest.

That strong heartbeat beat for her in her ear. “I thought as long as I thought about how much I loved you, you’d feel it.”

“I did, My Lady. Every time you whispered it to yourself, I got a warm feeling inside. Even in my darkest moments, I knew you loved me. Thank you. Thank you for loving me.”

“It wasn’t hard.”

—

Interacting with Gabriel came sooner than they hoped.

Today was a ‘progress day’, as Dr. Zollar had noted. A day that would push boundaries, and challenge them emotionally and maybe physically.

They were going back to school. Just for the day, to find out graduation requirements, but even going on the property was going to hurt.

The last time they were here…well, Marinette was still a ‘perverted stalker’.

They were going in with their parents, while class was in session, so it wasn’t likely that they’d be cornered by anyone.

“You ready, kiddos?” Asked Sabine.

Marinette nodded and slipped her hand into Adrien’s. For the first time since capture, they were both wearing jeans. The wounds on the back of their legs had healed enough to allow it, though it still wasn’t very comfortable. Adrien wore a loose T-Shirt, since his skin graft on his shoulder blades was still healing.

Tom rested a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “It’s okay son. We’ll be right there with you.”

So, they slowly made their way over to the school.

The Agreste’s silver sedan waited at the curb, and the Gorilla greeted them as they approached, opening the door for Emilie and Gabriel to exit.

“So this is your school?” Said Emilie, ever cheerful.

Adrien nodded. He had yet to resolve the tantrum he had over her, now that Gabriel had come clean. But the sting of betrayal still lingered, even if Emilie couldn’t have helped it.

Everything was just tense and no one was willing to talk it out.

For now, they had time, and Emilie was willing to give him space.

“It’s a really nice facility,” Sabine saved. “Adrien was on the fencing team!”

“Oh they have fencing? That’s wonderful! Not many public schools do!”

As the mothers led the group, talking, Marinette squeezed Adrien’s hand. “You doing alright, kitty?”

He tilted his head, and gave her a look, silently asking the same question.

“I’m nervous. I know I should probably…you know, at least see the class.”

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to.” Tom encouraged, patting her back patiently.

They had only been gone for about four months now, only a little longer than summer vacation, but the school just felt so small. It’s like that, when your world isn’t revolving around just one building anymore. In all of the nightmares Marinette had in solitude, the school was just so much bigger, and her classmates were even more vile, nasty, and cruel. Such is the poison of isolation.

Thankfully, class was in session, and no one was loitering in the halls as they made their way upstairs to Mr. Damocles office.

“Good afternoon and welcome back!” He greeted, too loudly.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Damocles,” Sabine shook his hand.

“Oh it’s a pleasure. I would like to do my part to make sure Adrien and Marinette are all set for whatever they have planned next in life. What are we thinking? College? Working with Mr. Agreste?”

Marinette hunched her shoulders while Adrien scuffed his shoe on the floor.

“Let’s just think about getting their GEDs for right now.” Said Gabriel. “This is my wife, Emilie. She’s recently returned from an extended sabbatical.”

Marinette held back a snort. That’s what they were going with?

Mr. Damocles looked skeptical, but managed to smile and shake her hand anyways. “Welcome back, madam.”

Adrien and Marinette found chairs in the back of the room, allowing the parents to lead the conversation.

“So, here we have Marinette and Adrien’s transcripts. Starting in College, they are basically identical, since they took the same classes together. Adrien’s fulfilled his foreign language credit, and Marinette’s completed her arts credit. It appears that this semester, Adrien was planning to take Visual Arts, Physics, Trigonometry, Written Rhetoric, and World History, then he had two free periods for studying, or taking college level courses. Marinette was planned to take Chinese, Anatomy, Economics, Written Rhetoric, World History, and Visual Arts.”

“Well,” began Sabine, “Adrien and I can certainly help Marinette complete her Chinese credit. You know, I’ve been trying to teach her forever, she’s just so stubborn.”

“I’m just not good at it.” Marinette defended. “I haven’t had the proper motivation.”

“I will sign off on Written Rhetoric for both of them. I think they’ve given plenty of speeches as superheroes to count. And I think Anatomy and Physics can be counted as well. So we will just need to get them homeschool work for World History, Trigonometry, and Economics. And Adrien will need a Visual Arts credit.”

“His modeling wouldn’t count?” Gabriel asked.

Mr. Damocles hummed and hawed over it, then finally asked. “Was he getting paid for it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t think I can count it for a credit. However, if he was allowed to work behind the camera for a little while, learning how to use the camera and the lights and such, I could count that.”

Gabriel turned to look at Adrien. “That’s doable, right?”

Adrien nodded.

“Alright. Then I’ll get the paperwork ready. I will look through my contacts for tutors in those subjects.”

“I wouldn’t mind teaching Marinette Economics.” Gabriel volunteered. “It’s something I’m rather proficient in, as a businessman.”

“Can you handle that?” Sabine asked her daughter.

Marinette wanted to say no, but she didn’t really want to spit in Gabriel’s face. Especially since he was just volunteering for her, and not Adrien. “I think that would be fine.”

“You said you were still interested in fashion design right? Then I can tailor what I teach you based on the industry.”

That was a pretty sweet deal. And old Marinette would have leapt on the chance. But the new Marinette was frightened by change, by stress, by the threat of disappointment.

And with how high Gabriel’s expectations continued to be, failure almost seemed certain.

There must have been a big stamp on her forehead that said ‘I’m not sure’ because Emile came to her rescue. “Let’s just try it out for a little while. If you need something…less intense, we can switch to a tutor.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Damocles stated, not really paying that much attention to the conversation anyway. “Adrien, Marinette…the rest of this meeting is going to be boring for you. Why don’t you both go pop in and say hello to your classmates, hm?”

Neither of them replied right away, as Adrien waited for her lead, and Marinette debated the pros and cons.

“Alya and Nino will be there.” Sabine said calmly. “And your classmates were all very worried about you. It’ll be okay.”

Marinette wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing the nausea away.

Adrien stood, holding his hand out to her. She took hold, and let him lead her out of the room.

After the door closed, he answered, “I thought I’d at least get you away from prying eyes. We don’t have to go.”

She gnawed at her lip, before finally deciding, “let’s go. Just for a little bit, to prove that we could.”

“We don’t need to prove anything to anyone. They’re the ones that failed us.”

“You’re right…but, I’m tired of being afraid of everything. I’m tired of being set off by every little thing. I shouldn’t let a bunch of stupid high school kids bother me anymore. We have Alya, Nino, and Chloe on our side.” She clenched her fist. “Do you want to say hi to everyone?”

“I don’t care about them.” He shrugged. “I know Alya and Nino said everyone changed their tune after we were revealed on TV, but they failed us when we needed them the most. They couldn’t save us from Salo, but they could have made the days before a lot less painful.”

Marinette clenched her eyes shut, feeling the sting of his words. It was as if he was a mind reader, since that was exactly how she was feeling. He didn’t even need to ask. “They could have made my time in isolation hurt less. I might have been optimistic. If only they had cared when it mattered. If only they trusted me when I was just Marinette.”

Adrien curled his fingers into her palm, brushing against the scar there that bore his name. “Do you think…we should say this to them? Would it help?”

“Dr. Zollar said we should let people apologize to us. That it’ll help more than we think.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid that they’ll sweep it under the rug, and pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“Then, we’ll sweep them under the rug. Cut our losses and forget them. We don’t need anyone anyway, right my lady?”

“You and me against the world,” she nodded. She took a shuddering breath. “Okay. I think…I think I can go. You’ll be right beside me?”

“Of course.”

He never let go of her hand as they made their way down the hall. The classroom appeared far too soon for Marinette’s liking, and they stood just outside, waiting. Adrien would let her take the initiative, whenever she was ready.

She had to prepare for every bad scenario, no matter how unlikely. If she had a plan for each one, she couldn’t be surprised. Right?

Finally, she nodded to Adrien and then knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Called Miss Bustier.

Marinette turned the knob, holding her breath, before pushing it open.

The class was silent, save for a few gasps.

“Well hello you two!” Miss Bustier greeted warmly, tears in her eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be coming back!”

“We’re not. We just…came to visit.” Marinette barely whispered, looking only at the teacher.

“That’s wonderful!”

“Are we interrupting anything? Do you want us to come back later?”

“No no, please come in, we’ll take a little break!”

And then she dared to cast her gaze to her old classmates, her old friends.

Every eye was on her, coupled with trembling lips, tense postures, and vainly restrained tears. It looked like everyone wanted to say something, but no one wanted to be first.

She didn’t know what to say either.

The front desk that her and Adrien had shared for one day was empty.

“What brings you both here?” Miss Bustier asked, rescuing them.

“We’re…we’re uh…looking at graduation requirements. We won’t be…coming back to class.”

“That’s understandable. Well, I’m sure any of your classmates would be willing to study with you anyways if you need help.”

“Alya and Nino have been coming around a lot…keeping us in the loop.”

“Oh that’s good! Well, don’t let me take all of your attention, I’m sure someone has a question for you--”

“Yeah, I have a question!” A voice called from the back of the classroom. She stood, crossing her arms. “How the hell are you allowed to be here?” Lila asked.

Marinette flinched at the sound of her voice.

“Lila, I think you better sit down and be quiet.” Miss Bustier warned. “You’re on probation, you should watch yourself.”

“I am! In fact, I have a restraining order on both of them. They are breaking the law by being here.”

“If them being here is a problem, then why don’t you just leave?” Asked Chloe, also standing.

“Because I belong here! I’m a student in this class and I have a right to be here! They, on the other hand, are monsters!”

Marinette clenched her fists as Adrien turned to hide his face in her shoulder.

“Lila, shut up!” Alya shouted, slamming her fist on the desk behind her. “Admit that you dug yourself into a hole and you’re too proud to apologize! I’m not buying this stupid restraining order fib, just like we haven’t bought a single story out of your mouth in the last three months!”

“I’m not lying about the restraining order!” Lila shouted right back, with real venom in her tone. Her sweet veneer was completely gone, and all that remained was the nasty, snarling beast that had been hiding the whole time. “They came to my house! They cut out my tongue! Ask my mother! Ask the hospital!”

“Oh yeah?” Asked Alix, “If they cut out your tongue, you seem to be talking really well without it.”

“Like they would bother with you…” Someone else muttered.

“It was when they were akumatized!”

“Just save your breath.” Chloe huffed. “You can’t tell the truth even if you wanted to.”

“She’s telling the truth this time.” Said Marinette, tone blank and devoid of emotion.

The class turned to look at her, seeing the look on her face. It spoke volumes of pure wrath, and Adrien’s matched.

“We cut out that bitch’s tongue.” She said, her voice calm, deep, and vacant of regret. “The last thing we did, we went to her house. I had a pair of clamps, and Grimalkin had his claws. We ripped it out. She cried the whole time. She cried and screamed…it was the happiest I felt in a long time. I’d do it again if I could. I’d rip out her tongue, I’d crush her throat…”

The body laid on the ground.

“I’d cut her in half…”

Organs spilling on the floor.

“Make her scream…”

Red hair sprawled across the bloody cement.

“Make her writhe…”

The screams of men and women echoing through the halls, their dying breaths capping them off into silence.

“Make her suffer…just as I suffered.”

“Go ahead, kill me. Let your God punish me.”

“He’ll get his turn…he’ll get his turn…burn in hell. Burn in hell!”

Salo’s body laid right in front of her, turning into dust from Grimalkin’s cataclysm. Marinette kicked in vain, trying to get it to disappear.

“Go away! Leave us alone!” She sobbed. “Die! Die! Die!”

By the time Marinette realized she wasn’t in the catacombs anymore, she was sitting on a bench in the school courtyard, head back with a wet washcloth on her face.

“That’s right, just breathe. You’re alright, Marinette.” Alya held her hand, rubbing comforting circles on the back of it.

A pair of strong hands gently massaged her shoulders, and opening her eyes, she found that they belonged to Kim.

“Hey girly. You back with us now?” He asked softly.

Marinette clenched her eyes shut. “Shit.”

“If I had known you were going to visit, I would have asked Miss Bustier to get rid of her for a while. I’m sorry, girl.”

Marinette sat up, glancing around. Alya, Kim, Alix, and Mylene were around her, just silently watching to make sure she was alright.

“Where is he? Where’s Adrien?” Was her next concern.

Alya simply pointed at the upstairs railing, where he was walking with Nino and Chloe. “He started crying when you started talking about...some violent stuff. We thought it best that we separate you until you calmed down.”

“I’m sorry...I don’t know what got into me...”

“Girl, you do not need to apologize. If Lila has a restraining order on you, she should have kept her mouth shut and left the room. She doesn’t deserve any rights.”

“Did I hear Miss Bustier say she was on Parole?”

“For ‘disrupting police activity’. She couldn’t get jail time just for Libel, but the judge slapped her with that, since what she did wasn’t just mean, it was dangerous.”

“So if she got jail time, why is she here at school?”

“She only got a week in jail,” responded Alix with an eye roll. “But her punishment isn’t over. She has to stay with our class until she graduates, and then she’ll be reevaluated based on performance.”

Alya continued, “The judge wanted her in an environment where everyone knew what she did, and no one would want to be her friend. He wants her to focus on school, and not have an audience. This is according to Miss Bustier, of course, who instructed us not to talk to her.”

“Wow. Go Miss Bustier.”

“Yeah.” Said Kim, “Except Lila makes sure we all know how awful we are and how this is as much our fault as hers. ’This never would have happened if you weren’t all so gullible! Marinette and Adrien wouldn’t be tortured if you weren’t so stupid!’”

“Oh my god, she said that?” Marinette sneered. “Our capture had nothing to do with her. Chat and I still would have fought against Edward Savauge and still made…her go out for revenge. Lila knows this. She was in that room. She saw my mouth—“ Marinette pressed her nails into her lip, feeling the sting of the needle.

Mylene grabbed her arm and pulled it away from her. “We’re not listening to Lila. She’s loud and demanding, but we know the facts. She’s just angry she’s not getting attention. Don’t think about her anymore.”

By this time, Adrien, Nino, and Chloe had reached the bottom of the stairs. He ran to her, scooping her up into a hug with a shudder.

“I’m sorry, Kitty. I’m sorry…”

“It’s all okay now,” Nino assured, patting Adrien on the back. “We calmed him down. I think he’s more concerned about you.”

“I’m…I think I’m okay. Just seeing her face and hearing her accusing me…I just snapped.”

“It was pretty badass,” Alix commented. “Yeah, it sucked, but it probably instilled the fear of Jesus in her for a little while. I think she needed that.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t hear the best part!” Said Chloe, “She got jail time! And now she’s on parole—“

“Yeah, we already told her all that.” Said Alix with a smirk.

“Well, did you mention the lawsuits? Gabriel and the city of Paris both sued her and her family for Libel. Her mother refused to pay it for her, so now as soon as Lila’s of age, she’ll be paying the city police department and both of you thousands of dollars. Most likely for the rest of her life!”

“I don’t want her money,” Marinette scoffed. “Especially if I have to interact with her.”

“You won’t.” Chloe assured her. “Gabriel will be taking care of it for you.”

“And you don’t have to accept her money,” suggested Alix. “You could put it in a fund or a grant. Give it to other people who have been slandered against! Or people that what’s-her-face hurt! The possibilities are endless!”

“I don’t know if I have the will to run a charity right now guys…” Marinette shrunk on herself.

“Then let someone else do it.”

“I volunteer!” Shouted Chloe. “After all, I’m the one with all the real contacts. You all can help, of course.”

Tom and Sabine hurried down from the Principal’s office. “There you are! Miss Bustier said you had an episode, Marinette. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine now, Maman. Just…had a run in with an old enemy.”

“Well, Gabriel’s wrapping everything up now. So let’s get you kiddos home, okay?”

“Can we come visit you?” Asked Mylene. “We, as a class, wanted to so many times, but we weren’t sure if you wanted to even see us. Alya, Nino, and Chloe said you’d might not be up to discuss it.”

Marinette breathed slowly, considering the question. She turned to Adrien, asking him silently. He gave a little nod.

“I suppose, that would be okay. Is that okay with you, maman?”

“Of course, baby. I’m always happy when you’re willing to have guests.”

“Awesome!” Said Alya with a little clap. “We’ll come over after school! We won’t stay too long, just long enough to say hi and bye!”

Marinette stood, holding out her hand to Adrien. “Can’t wait.”

—

After they returned home and closed the trap door to her room, Adrien embraced her, squeezing her tightly. “You worried me,” he whispered. “What happened?”

“I…don’t know. I just vividly remembered the night we cut out her tongue…and then I got lost. Salo was there, the last time we saw her. What did I do?”

“Just a lot of screaming. Over and over, you just shouted ‘die’ and ‘burn in hell’. It was…really scary.”

“I’m sorry, Kitty. You were right, we shouldn’t have gone.”

“Well…I don’t know about that. Chloe and Nino seemed to be really proud of us for stopping by. I like it when they say they’re proud of our decisions. Makes the pain worth it.”

“I suppose.”

There was a knock at the trap door before Gabriel opened it. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you both know you’re all set to start homeschooling whenever you’re ready. Mr. Damocles said even if you don’t finish your credits in time, you can still walk with your class, if you’d like.”

“That’s nice,” Marinette said quietly.

“Are you alright? Your teacher said there was an…incident.”

She turned to look him right in the eye. “Why do we remember being akumatized? No one else ever has. Is it because we had Miraculous for so long?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I’m not completely sure, but I have a hunch. Since I made two akumas at the same time, I split the tether I had on you. That’s why you overpowered my control. Nooroo warned me it would happen, but I thought it would be worth the risk. I didn’t know you’d keep your memories of that, however. I never wanted to add to your trauma.”

“Well. If it wasn’t on purpose, I suppose we can’t be mad at you.”

Gabriel shrugged helplessly. “You can be as mad at me as you want. I’m expecting it.”

Adrien left Marinette’s arms and went over to lay down on the chaise.

“At any rate, thank you for the explanation.”

“Of course. Any answers you want, you deserve.” He swallowed. “Your outfits for the Mayor’s ball are coming around lovely. If it’s alright, let me know when I can bring them over for a fitting. It’s still several weeks away.”

“Thank you, Gabriel. Whenever my mother is free for her fitting should be fine.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you alone now.” He took a step down, partially closing the door. Then at the last second he added, “bye son, I love you.”

—

Only a few hours later, after Marinette and Adrien had changed into more comfortable clothes, there was another knock at the trap door.

“Come in,” said Marinette, as she spread cushions out on the floor.

“Um…” Said Rose from below. “Could you…open the door and then stand back?”

Curious, Marinette did as instructed.

A bunch of balloons floated up into the room, followed by a huge bouquet of flowers, and then a giant stuffed black cat.

Both Marinette and Adrien stared in shock.

“Too much or not enough?” Asked Rose, poking her head in.

“What is all this?” She asked, beckoning her classmates into the room.

“Offerings of apologies and gratitude, of course,” said Max. “Everyone in our class was akumatized at least once, and we all agreed we owed both of you a huge thank you for rescuing us. And of course, we all owe you an apology, Marinette.”

“O-oh…thank you.”

“We sort of thought you’d never want to see us again…but you took the initiative to come see us at school…the least we could do was follow up.” Said Nathaniel. He handed her a handmade card. “I hope you can forgive us for ever doubting you.”

Marinette took the card, admiring the artwork. The outside showed Ladybug and Chat Noir standing proudly over the city. Inside, a cartoon-ish Ladybug, bandaged up, was putting bandaids on an equally cartoony Chat Noir. The caption read, “you’re still Purr-Fect to us!”

It was enough to bring tears to her eyes. “I…I will forgive you. I have a lot of bad feelings, but my therapist is helping me work through them.”

“Do you do hugs?” Asked Kim.

“Gentle. Especially with Adrien, he still has some stitches on his shoulder blades.”

Getting hugged by each and every person who had doubted her did wonders. With each kiss to the cheek and pat on the head, she could feel some of the bitterness fading. It wouldn’t leave fully for a long time, but to see genuine remorse was like a soothing balm on an inflamed wound.

It felt nice to have friends again. Adrien had worked so hard to get them in the first place. Losing respect for everyone he had known had really solidified his decision to stop speaking.

But for them to come around and humble themselves and apologize really took the fight out of him. Maybe cutting them off wasn’t necessary. Maybe there was more to these traitors. Maybe people were capable of change.

Maybe it wasn’t just teenagers that changed either. Maybe adults too. Adults like his father and Salo.

“Oh Adrien,” asked Nino, sitting on the chaise lounge. “Is that the keyboard the Couffaine’s let you borrow?”

Adrien nodded.

“Are you practicing anything right now?”

“Adrien’s been working on something. A song he had in his head in the catacombs. It’s in the works.”

“Cool! Bro, you gotta let me hear!”

Adrien shook his head.

“Sorry Nino, I can’t get it out of him either. He says it’s not ready yet.”

“Aw bummer!” Nino groaned. “But let me hear it the moment it’s done, okay?”

Adrien gave a twitch of a smile.

The girls had already settled on the cushions on the floor, and beckoned the boys to join them.

“Now,” began Alya, as she took a binder out of her backpack, “we have some very important business to discuss.”

Marinette frowned at her. “Hey wait a minute…that’s my—“

“Your dream wedding planner? Yes, I held onto it when we hid all of your personal belongings when you were first captured.” She cracked it open and set it on the floor.

Adrien peered around, trying to get a look.

Marinette covered his eyes. “Alya, put that away! That’s private!”

“Is it not accurate anymore?”

“I mean…I still would like to use it…”

“Great! We’re going to start planning now! And don’t worry Sunshine, this book is tailored to you as the groom.”

Adrien smiled, despite Marinette’s hand over his eyes.

“Must you humiliate me this way?” Marinette asked, blushing.

The class shared giggles at that.

“Don’t even sweat it Marinette,” said Chloe, waving her hand around. “We’re going to make sure you and Adrikins have the bestest, most glamorous wedding since William and Kate!”

Still blushing, “well, I don’t want big and glamorous…I want small and intimate.”

“Small and glamorous it is!”

—

This chapter was fun because I had to recall the classes I took in my senior year of high school. I felt like I was leaving a subject out, but Adrien and Marinette have no reason to be taking Bible classes lol (I went to a pre-seminary Christian School)

A friend who wishes to stay anonymous wrote this for me. She said she was inspired, and in turn, she inspired me! This bonus scene is canon to the story:

A creaking moan gently woke him. His eyes opened—once, then twice. He took a moment to realize that the cloud caressing his body, which still stung with every pulse, was not a cloud, but a down-alternative comforter.

He was in Marinette’s—his bed, in their room, in their house. And there was sound coming from his left—warmth and sound. A whimper. A cry. And, again, a moan—quiet anguish. He rolled over to face the source.

“Marinette,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

The dark figure of his wife’s frail form didn’t stir. He asked again. “My lady? Are you awake?”

Still nothing.

He brought his face closer to hers. The light pollution filtering through the skylight served as the only source of illumination. As his eyes adjusted and focused on hers, his stomach churned. Her face was a scrunched display of pitiful agony, and her hands were at her throat. She whimpered once more—her lips pressed together in a hard line, unmoving as her sad cries escaped them. The light reflected from her cheeks in dribbles of tears.

He sat up, electrified. “My lady! My lady!” His voice cracked. He grabbed at the hold she had on her own neck.

Her eyes shot open as she gasped awake. She saw his silhouette and was instantly sitting up to meet his gaze.

“Adrien! Adrien! What’s wrong? Talk to me! It’s okay! I’m here! You’re not alone! You’re not locked in!” She was panting.

“Nothing is wrong. I’m okay. I am worried about you. You’re crying in your sleep.”

She wiped at her face with bony fingers. “Did I wake you? I am so sorry, mon chaton.”

“Don’t apologize. I was just worried. Are you alright?” He was whispering now.

“Yeah, I am okay. Just another nightmare. Happens all the time. Go back to sleep.”

“Nightmares?” It hit him as the words left his lips. She was back there. All the time. The burns at her neck, the blood and the thread at her lips. The sounds and the smells and the cold and the—he choked as he took a deep breath; there was seemingly no air to take in.

“Adrien, breathe,” Marinette pleaded. Everything is okay.

He tried again, more slowly, through his nose. It worked.

“Good kitty,” she praised.

Her sweet praise, like a narcotic through his veins, made his muscles relax and his pain momentarily vanish.

He reached out and brought her closer to him. They embraced in silence. He squinted his eyes tightly so that his tears would not betray his resolve to finally become strong once more.

Like a divine epiphany, the sight of her suffering in slumber awoke something in him that he thought was long dead. It growled past the shadows of his worst repressed instincts. It brought a burning feeling back to his core—his soul.

How could he continue to let himself drown in self pity, when she was so strong a life preserver to him? Was he so preoccupied with his own suffering that he didn’t think to ask if she, too, was drowning?

Why? Why did she swim so strongly when he was watching, only for her head to go under as soon as he turned away? The bravery she displayed for him was full of cracks he couldn’t see.

And she was dragged back to Hell, every night, alone.

Never again. He would get strong. No—he would become even stronger than he was before—his armor, bulletproof and fireproof; his claws, devastatingly destructive; his senses, heightened to an atmospheric level. He would grow powerful enough to protect her and capable enough to rescue her from any evil. His magic would evolve into a force strong enough to infiltrate her dreams and deliver her from suffering. Silent was this promise as he held his life preserver tighter to his chest.

He let out a low, menacing growl. “I’ve come back, My Lady.”

#ml #miraculous ladybug #longest night #ladybug #chat noir #fanfiction #adrinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi is exposed #chat blanc

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yukiobeyme · 4 years

Note

Hi! I saw your hc of the brothers reacting to a mc playing the harp. Do you think you could do hc with an skilled painter mc too? I study art, but due to a depressive episode i stoped painting, i started painting again a few days ago and remembered how much i enjoy it. Maybe due to the studys of the devildom she didnt have time for a while? Its ok if you dont want to or feel uncomfortable:)

Sorry, it took forever but hopefully, this suffices. It’s the longest thing I have ever written for Obey Me (5.6k words) The picture that is included is drawn by me, which is a painting that is featured in Detroit Become Human. It was in chapter 6 for Marcus, and the painting is human- hope. So, yea I hope you all enjoy and it’s just as good as the harp fic I did.

This is also like how the brothers try to help you with depression too because I need it lol. The first half is them noticing that you aren’t doing art anymore then you randomly paint then its the brother’s reaction though I don’t know if their reaction is long enough.

I am behind on requests but feel free to send stuff, I’m doing online classes so I have more free time and on my computer constantly. I think I’m finally gonna catch up on everything.

Trigger Warning for Depression and not necessarily Eating Disorder Otherwise Nonspecific but MC struggles to eat while depressed.

Art was something you always did. It was started as an innocent hobby, then you started to doodle on your assignments and notes. If there were paper and pencil around, there was bound to be one of your drawings on it eventually. In high school, you decided to take Art as your elective of choice, and during that time you learn what your favorite medium was and what your art style is. You found out you like paints the most; acrylics were the easiest for you, it was the most forgiving of the paints, watercolor you loved but it took work and concentration to do, and oil paint you practiced loved to hate. Oil was always so hard to work with, at first you always overworked the paint and left it looking dull and sad looking, but you were determined to get it right. Your final project was a huge oil painting, you took your time to plan and layout that painting. The topic you chose was the fall of angels, which you didn’t know much about. You knew about the Celestial Realm and Devildom, everyone does but it’s not like humans can walk freely in either of the realms. You debated back and forth if you should do a generic angel or if you should have more fun with it and recapture the fall of a true angel. Your research led you to learn about six brothers that fell around the same time. You recognized the first name easily, Lucifer; he was prideful and what everyone refers to the most powerful demon. He fell from Heaven after he became so impressed with his own beauty, intelligence, power, and position that he began to desire for himself the honor and glory that belonged to God alone. This pride represents the actual beginning of sin in the universe—preceding the fall of the human Adam by an indeterminate time. The other names, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor didn’t seem to ring any bells, but you took the time to try and research each on. You decided to capture all their falls in one painting, they fell in the order of power. Lucifer would be the furthest one down the canvas and that’s why Belphegor would be at the top still within the clouds. The painting ended up looking amazing and still hangs on the wall in your living room, it was the first decoration piece you ever put up.

Fast forward to when you were whisked away to Devildom to be an exchange student. They were nice enough to give you time to pack things, only 15 minutes to pack a year's worth of things. You grabbed random clothes and stuffed them in a bag, you grabbed your favorite stuff animal and went immediately went to your desk where you kept all your painting supplies. You made sure to grab as many different colors as possible, all different brush sizes and your two sketches that could handle the paint medium. You decided to grab your phone and its charger though you knew it probably wouldn’t work in Devildom. With one last glance around your house, you paused and looked at the oil painting before telling the demon that you were ready to start this adventure.

Much to your surprise, you were met with faces that were familiar. Though it wasn’t because you had met them before rather it was because you studied their faces and bodies to paint them. You were flushed the whole time they introduced themselves and was even more flustered when you realized you would be living with them for the next year. If they noticed, they didn’t say much about it. You knew they noticed your stares though. You were studying their faces, trying to recall if you captured them right, if your references were accurate or not.

You tried to do some form of art every day, from doodles or painting. Usually, you would sketch something during your breaks and paint them once you were back at the House of Lamentation. The brothers knew you painted but you always requested to be left alone. This was the time you played the music you wanted and get lost in the brush strokes. It was your stress release, something you found joy in, the way you reconnected with your body.

But within a month of being an exchange student, your RAD work piled up and instead of sketching during breaks you had to start studying and doing work to ensure you stayed on top of everything. The mix of stress and not taking care of yourself led you down a spiraling depression. You gave up painting and daily self-care was sparse and very little. You stayed up late and woke up early to get as much work done as possible, food was on the small side and on the go food.

You had gone shopping with Asmodeus and grabbed canvases, the now gathered dust in the corner of your room. Somewhere still blank and others left unfinished, but you could never push yourself to pick up your paintbrushes. Sometimes you would pull out all your material and just sit and stare at the canvas until you gave up and left it alone. Soon the brothers decided to make a schedule so that you never alone and offer you different types of support that were unique to them. They never pushed you to pick up painting again, though they tried to encourage it and encourage you to take care of yourself.

Lucifer:

Lucifer noticed how your habits changed, while he never saw your finished art pieces, he saw bits and pieces. He noticed that you like to draw what was around you, he had seen you draw the RAD, the House of Lamentation, and even sketches of his brothers and himself. When you stopped drawing in the morning, he just figured you weren’t as inspired, but then the dark circles under your eyes formed, skipping meals or eating too little, and how you sometimes drifted in class.

He thought it should be his job to help you, but he didn’t know how. For the first time in centuries, he felt powerless. He decided whenever you skipped meals, he would find ways to get you to eat. In the morning if you skipped breakfast, he grabbed a fruit and a granola bar to hand to you. Or when you skipped dinner, he brought the food to wherever you were studying. He made the time to sit with you, while you ate, bringing work of his own to do. He would try to brush off as he simply wanted to work in a different area when in reality, he wanted to make sure you ate.

Finally, Lucifer would ask if you had drawn or painted recently. Your grimace told him everything, “No, I haven’t been inspired recently,” you shrugged it off hoping he would drop it. But instead, he poked and tried to get more information from you. You broke after a while spilling all the struggles you have been facing and how the stress-induced depression, you assured him you been through it before and you would be fine but right now it just felt like loneliness and darkness.

While Lucifer didn’t show it, it broke his heart to hear you say that. He figured you were stressed, and you seemed down, but he didn’t know it was too this magnitude. He did his best to support and encourage you in any way he could, hoping that it would help somehow. He offered to tutor you and help you with homework in hopes to lighten your load. He knew he should tell Diavolo, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. This felt too intimate to disclose to him, he felt happy and privileged that you shared it with him, and he didn’t want to break that. At least you were talking to someone.

Mammon:

Mammon was oblivious to how your schedule and habits changed. It wasn’t until Beelz mentioned that he hadn’t seen you eat yet today during lunch. Then it clicked how he hadn’t seen you as much or rather how he had to seek you out constantly to get the attention he deserved from you.

He started to pay more attention to you and something seemed missing from your stack of books but could never place it until he came to your room and say your sketchbook on the floor under all your books. It clicks he doesn’t remember the last time he saw you drawing or doodling.

He then noticed your tired eyes, your slow-moving, and you did skip a lot of meals or at very little. He totally increased how much he spent with you, even when you claimed to have too much work to do. He would simply sit at your feet and lean against you. You would occasionally drop your hand down and play with his hair. You noticed the increase of affection and time he spent with you and at first, you were annoyed with it but soon you enjoyed the quiet company. Once Mammon saw you were happy to have him around, he started talking to you about his random schemes; which never failed to make you smile and laugh. He soon made it his goal to make sure you were always laughing and smiling, he never wanted it to stop.

You didn’t disclose everything to Mammon, but you talked about your feelings to him. In some ways it was hard not too, having him so close but you couldn’t help but feel vulnerable. He comforted you to the best of his ability, sometimes he said the wrong things, but he tried and attempted to fix it.

He would surprise you with small gifts, one day at lunch he managed to get a yakisoba bread and you were surprised when he offered you the whole thing instead of just wanting to split it. You offered to split it with him and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You both ate you halves outside, and you couldn’t help but cuddle up against him. When you finished your food, you gave Mammon a peak of the cheek. He flushed immediately and you hooked your arms together and walked to class with him. Needless to say, he bragged about it to the brother’s group chat and he was made fun of because of how he blushed for the rest of the day.

Leviathan:

Noticed the symptoms immediately, he had been through similar things. That there were times he stopped video games and anime or stopped finding the enjoyment from it. Though because he was constantly in his room, no one would notice.

He simply offered you silent support, making sure you were never alone or in one place for too long. He would try to drag you away for a quick game or anime or watch him play a game. You finally asked why he was spending more time with you and he would bashfully say while he didn’t know how you felt, he felt like he had been through similar things. It broke your heart to hear that and you pulled him into a tight hug. Later that night, you went to his room bringing tea for both of you and you both stayed up way too late talking to each other. It seemed like talking about it help life some of the pressure off you.

He said his door was always open to you, and while you didn’t always take him up on it, you occasionally when to study and watch him play whatever game he was currently playing. It was nice to have his company, even if you didn’t talk, it was comforting to be in the company that understood your feelings.

During class, he sat to your left while Beelz sat to your right. Levi made sure to nudge you if your attention seemed to diverge from the lecture and always offer you his notes if you missed anything. He also showed you places to hide in RAD, if you wanted to hide during lunch but his only request was you took food and ate it. He said he would prefer to hang out as well but respected your privacy if you truly wanted to be alone.

Would try and encourage you to paint or draw again. Asking you to draw him some character from his games or anime. You occasionally you would indulge in drawing whatever he wanted. Overall, Levi was your quiet support and you were grateful for it, to be able to sit in quiet and not to be asked what is wrong or must talk was a perfect escape sometimes.

Satan:

He was worried about you, he offered to take you to the library for a new place to study. He would read your textbooks to you. He would read it whether you were in his room, the library, or curled up on his bed. Though most times if he read to you on his bed, you would drift off to sleep listening to his voice. He would always smile whenever you managed to fall asleep, it comforted him that he was able to help you fall asleep.

Satan would find books about depression, but he was uncertain because it sounded to clinically and he doubted that it was really like how the book described. Though he continued to research, trying to find out ways to support you. Online forums and talking to the brothers about the things they were doing and what seemed to help you.

He would stumble sometimes but you couldn’t help but feel touched he tried so hard. When you say the help guide and books he had, you cried. You couldn’t believe someone would care this much about you and want to help you. He was there to comfort you and once you calmed down you thanked him and laugh, “I was wondering why your actions seemed straight from a self-help book, Thank you,” you kissed him on the cheek and gave up studying for the day to hang out and cuddle with him. He would ask what he could do to help, what things he did that helped or hurt you. You would drift off to sleep with a smile on your face.

When you weren’t reading together and Satan would play drama, especially Korean Dramas, something you introduced to him. He would play your favorite one, the one you have already watched together and that you have seen a million times, but still loved it and reacted to the story every time. Sometimes Satan would quote the show and act dramatically to make you smile and laugh.

But there were hard times with Satan, he was the Avatar of Wrath, after all, he would get annoyed at the situation, but never at you. He always made sure that you knew that, though occasionally he would say something that he would immediately apologize for it. He tells you; he feels worthless and helpless. He wanted to help you and make it all better, but he knew that isn’t how it works.

Asmodeus:

Much like Mammon, offered you comfort and affection. Whisking you away to get the newest coffee or tea at the café, shopping, bubble baths, and doing skincare with him. While you tried to protest, he was consistent, and most times was a success. He starts to offer to go the café to study for a change of scenery, offering to quiz you while you took the bubble bath, or doing face masks that you could put on and study for a bit while it dried.

“Stress isn’t good for your skin. Neither is not sleeping,” Asmodeus would tell you pointedly.

Never directly asked what was wrong, but constantly reminded you he was there for you if you ever needed him or wanted to talk. While you didn’t to it often, instead of talking to him you would seek him out to cuddle and of course, he never denied it. It was a guaranteed break for you and most times you fell asleep.

Whenever he took you shopping, he would drag you to the art store encouraging to buy art supplies, he ended up buying you new paintbrushes, paint, and canvas. Telling you there wasn’t any rush to paint anything, but it would just be there in case you hit inspiration. He would always joke that you could paint him or “paint him like a French girl,” and would flash you a cheeky grin. You would laugh and shove his shoulder.

Sat behind you in most of your class and whenever he had the change, he would give you affection. He would pass you notes constantly, sometimes it was drawings of his own. Sometimes they were beautiful and amazing other times he drew funny sketches. You quickly found out who drew Lucifer riding the unicorn and Diavolo in the dress. The funny sketches also included exaggerated drawings of the teachers or his brothers, which was so hard not to laugh in class so you could only turn around and glare at him, that didn’t last long before you broke out into a smile and shook your head at him.

Beelzebub:

Noticed you lack interest of food and lack of eating immediately. Was constantly bring you snacks and sharing them with you. He sometimes was sneaky with it, dropping it off fruit slices and sitting it beside you and leaving. Then coming back later to see the empty plate and he was beaming. Would study with you and sat near you in class, whenever he pulled out a snack, he would set it in between you, in hopes you would snack on his food.

Whenever it was his turn to cook, he would find out your favorite comfort food; whether it was something from Devildom or Human food. Trying to make sure the food was as appetizing as possible and mouth-watering in hopes to entice you.

Would always be proud whenever you ate and encouraged yourself to be a glutton sometimes. Beelzebub was also your teddy bear, always down to engulf you in a hug and study with you occasionally. He would also tell you stories and memories about Lilith, times in the Celestial Realm, or random memories that were simply used as a distraction or calm you down when you got too tense about your schoolwork.

Beelzebub would also be the one that read you bedtime stories when you couldn’t sleep, it always made you laugh. He would do the voices and everything, as you cuddle against him. It became a normal thing to wake up to see Beelzebub leaning against you bed, he would admit he was checking on you during the middle of the night and decided to stay just in case you needed him.

He always checked up on you and while he was the Avatar of Gluttony, he indulged you in other things than food. He gave you a lot of praise and even small trinkets he found while he was out shopping.

He was just always there for you and he had his alerts on specifically for you. He would always reply with lightning speed. He was also the one that came up with the idea to not let you be alone too long and create the shifts between the brothers. While it was annoying in some ways you couldn’t help but feel touched by their efforts

Belphegor:

Consistently offered and told you take a break and naps. He would drag you to the planetarium to study and while he offered to study with you, he would end up dozing off at some point. It always made you smile. You would go snag his blanket and tuck him in.

He would constantly wrap you up in blankets and cling to you like a koala, trying to make sure you were as comfortable as possible as you study. He even would offer you to use his pillow that he carried around. While you were hesitant, but you adored how Belphegor smelled and often found comfort in that. He would be able to help you learn about the stars and constellations. He could talk forever about it and often did. He knew all the stories behind them, what they looked like and could point them out.

Sometimes you would count the stars with him to fall asleep. Belphegor was known to tuck you in, he would kiss you on your forehead and whenever he found you asleep, he would join you. It was the simple things that made you feel a little better and loved. Never forced you to talk about anything, but whenever he noticed you were staring off into space, he would begin to ramble about everything and anything. Trying to ground you and bring you back to the present.

He knew where to find you whenever you couldn’t sleep, and you weren’t in your room and he told the other brothers but always told them he would go and comfort and hang out with you. You were in the planetarium, it where he went when he couldn’t sleep or felt restless. He would sit beside you and sit in silence, he usually had a blanket to drape over the both of you. You would lean again him and rest his head on your shoulder, bringing in his smell and feel some of your tensions melt away.

Finally, one random day, you had inspiration hit you. Asmodeus had bought you a canvas and it was huge, and you knew the painting had to be just right. You decided to paint it outside, thinking maybe getting some vitamin D would help as well. You gathered your art stuff before you headed out. You ran into Satan as you made your way outside, you flashed him a shy smile and he offered to help you carry out your things. You were in the garden and you slowly set up; Satan helped you set up before disappearing. You grabbed your pencil and started to sketch out your painting. You heard someone approaching you and it was Satan though he was carrying a book before finding a place to sit near you in the shade. You gave him a soft smile before you went back to work. Before you knew it, you were loaded up your pallet with all different colors and started to paint. You allowed yourself to get lost in the painting. Letting your mind go blank and allowing your hand to take over the paint strokes. You didn’t notice the crowd that gathered behind you, you were completely lost in the joy of the painting. Your smile only continued to go the more and more you painted, you remembered how much you loved painting; the tension in your shoulders started to release and you felt renewed. Once you were finished you stepped back to see the painting in the full picture. You looked behind you to see all the brothers behind you, looking at your painting.

“It’s beautiful,” Satan said setting his book down and the other brothers nodded in agreement.

“Thank you… for everything,” you started and continued when you saw the brothers confused looks, “For supporting me and reminding me to take care of myself,” you flashed all of them a small smile.

“It’s inspired by all of you. That you reached out to me and reminded me of the hope that it gets better, even if it takes a while or doesn’t feel like it ever would.” All the brothers looked touched, but your words and it was Beelz that pulled you into a hug first. Soon you were getting hugs from all the brothers except Lucifer who gave a nod, you knew that later in private you would get a quick hug from him later.

Lucifer:

Lucifer had a sense of pride in seeing you paint again. Seeing you so engrossed in your work and how confidently your paint strokes were. He loved watching how the colors swirled together and how the painting slowly came to life. He realized he could watch you paint all day; he would later ask if you were willing to paint him something for his office. He would let you in his office and look around to get an idea of the mood of the room and how much space you had to work with. When you finished the painting, Lucifer hung it up almost immediately. He whenever he was stressed and tense, he would find himself looking at it, following the swirls of the colors to calm himself.

He also adored to indulge you in more expensive paints, which always took your breath away. He would allow you in his office to paint if you wanted. Most times Lucifer was working on papers, but occasionally he would play the piano, soft melodies that were soothing. It became a tradition that once a week, you would go to his office to paint or draw. Asking his opinions on sketches and if you should follow through with them or change it up.

Mammon:

He was taken back by how beautiful you looked as you painted. You were so carefree and happy; it took his breath away. He watched how your body moved as you painted, how smooth and elegant it looked. It was angelic, he was the only brother that dared to approach you; he would sit down on the grass and watch you.

He never formally requested any paintings from you, but you ended up painting him something anyway. You bought a copy of the magazine he was on the cover of and recreated it for him to hang up in his room. He was speechless when you gave it to him, you decided to do it more of an abstract with lots of colors. He hung it up on his wall and whenever he looked at it, he would smile and blush, it seemed so intimate that you painted him. That you probably spend a lot of time looking at his face to recreate it. He was greedy and craved watching you paint; for some reason, it was soothing for him and it made you happy so in turn, it made him happy.

Leviathan:

He watched in amazement, seeing you so shy and in a shy to being confident and standing tall. HE was in awe; his mouth fell open at some point. He felt like a child again, recalling how he has memories of having similar reactions when Lucifer did things. He followed you paint strokes, watching the painting come to life. When you turned around, he gave you the biggest smile, he was so happy to see you so passionate and happy with your work.

Even though the memory of being chased by Henry 1.0 was fresh in your mind, you decided to recapture him for Levi. So he could always have him hanging in his room. Levi was speechless when he saw it, he would whisper thank you to you. His smile made it so worth it.

Satan:

He found it super important to text his brothers that you were painting in the garden or about to start. The chat blew up with excitement. He grabbed a random book; he had no intention to read the book, but he didn’t want you to think he was staring at you. He sat underneath the trees near you and opened the book and started to pretend to read. He was amazing and honored that he could watch the full process of watching your painting coming to life. From the rough sketch, then the base paint, and then watching you add more and more color. When he saw his brothers come out, he raised one finger to his lips, to ensure they stayed quiet.

He didn’t ask you to paint him anything but asked if he could watch you occasionally. Which you mostly agreed to, though with more intimate projects you would tell him next time. You ended up painting himself something anyways. It was an old-world map, Fra Mauro map. It was made in Italy and even included the Garden of Eden. When he first saw it, he was speechless, he was excited though. This painting would go so well in his room, it matches the old-world library setting he had in his room. He was even more excited because he has a book about old-world maps that Fra Mauro is featured in it. The hug he pulled you into took your breath away, but you felt so happy because of his reaction.

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus was excited to see you painting again. He would be lying if he said it wasn’t attractive to watch you get lost in your art. While he was watching you paint, he couldn’t stop thinking about what other things you could paint and wondered if you would be okay with painting him like a French girl. Soon he disregarded the thoughts and simply appreciate the art in front of him, though he decided that you were really the masterpiece here.

Instead of painting Asmodeus a picture on canvas, you asked him to take off his shirt and lay down on his bed. You had brought your paints and paint brushed, while he was confused, he complied.

“This is going to be cold, sorry,” you gave him a heads up before you painted the stroke on his back. Asmodeus love it, you were turning him into a piece of your art. It felt intimate and precious. Though it was cold, and he complained and shivered, he was excited to see the final product.

Once you were done, you took a picture of your painting on his and yours D.D.D. You told him you combined two of your favorite paintings by Vincent Van Gogh, Starry Night but instead of the yellow stars, it was Van Gogh’s sunflowers.

Beelzebub:

He was the most excited out of the brothers, he was so happy to see you painting again. Seeing it come to life right in front of him, gave him a new appreciation for art. He could have watched you paint forever, you looked so carefree and relaxed. He didn’t know how much he missed your smile. After you were done and the painting was dried, he would ask if he could trace the colors. He would pull you into a huge hug and spin you around, making you cling onto him and laughing.

Beelz would ask instead of painting him something if you could have a paint night with him. You decided to pull up a Bob Ross video and follow it together. The results were dramatic, yours look close to Ross’ but had your unique style, while Beelz tried his hardest and it did resemble the reference paint. You started to giggle at his painting and before you knew it, Beelz took his extra paint and flung it at you. You let out a shriek before joining in, in the end, you both ended up covered in paint and laughing at each other.

Belphegor:

Belphegor was napping when his D.D.D started going off like crazy, he was annoyed until he saw that it was about you were about to paint. It gave him a jolt of energy to rush out to the garden. He was the last brother to get there. Standing behind you, he watched how your brush danced across the page and how your body swayed. You seem in your element and lost in your work. It was so relaxing to watch you paint, how the colors swirled together and just seeing how relaxed and happy you were seemed to rub off on him.

You knew you didn’t have to paint Belphie anything, but you couldn’t help yourself. You knew exactly what you wanted to draw anyways. You set up in the Planetarium and went to work to capture the sky above you. Belphie ended up joining you, he grabbed his blanket and sat behind you before curling up and watching you paint. It wasn’t long before you heard his soft snores behind him. You chuckled at him before going back to work. When you were finished you saw he was still asleep, you couldn’t help yourself. You crept near him with a paintbrush in hand and touched his cheek with it. He woke up immediately due to the cold paint, you soon were fighting over the paintbrush. You didn’t stand a chance against him, once he had the paintbrush in hand, he gave your cheek the same treatment. You both began to laugh and once you had calmed down, you showed him the painting you did for him. He pulled you into a hug, rubbing his painted cheek against yours to smear the paint even more.

When it was time for you to leave Devildom, you gave the brothers the painting. They tried to refuse but you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Please, it’s a way for you to remember me. You inspired me to do and it’s a reminder to have hope that I’ll be back soon,” you told them a little teary-eyed. You knew you were going to miss all of them so much, but you had a renew sense and passion for painting and the brothers and Devildom has inspired a lot more pieces as soon as you got back to Earth.

#obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #belphegor obey me #Yuki Writes!#yuki writes

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