#i also appreciate that he didn’t try to convince me to get another degree / go back to school for further education like everyone else does | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amjustagirl · 3 years

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Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her.

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

Wordcount: 7.8k

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics.

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!).

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time.

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out.

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter.

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball.

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party.

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back.

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air.

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory.

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head.

Why on earth did he agree to this again?

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’

His glare softens by a fraction.

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting.

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here.

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down.

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’

‘Hm.’

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews) when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey.

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively.

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender.

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree -

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek.

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest.

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness.

Then he takes a breath.

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end .

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands.

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn.

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts.

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders.

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even worse .

Much, much worse.

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand.

He ends up face planting directly into her chest.

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – ,

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt.

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed.

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.

He takes her hand with a rare smile.

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband.

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees.

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough.

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product.

He appreciates that.

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal.

He likes that.

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify.

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules.

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer.

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls.

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently.

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings.

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together.

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes. He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so I know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb.

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’ on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way.

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod.

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other.

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north.

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself.

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant.

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course.

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night.

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands.

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence.

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify.

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle.

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind.

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’.

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before.

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze.

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant.

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways.

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day.

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on.

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially.

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time.

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss.

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her.

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain.

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars.

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up.

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer.

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air.

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands.

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look.

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either.

He finds himself wondering about them.

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text.

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two?

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion.

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’.

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him?

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers.

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card.

Oikawa Tooru .

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further.

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer.

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’

He blinks. That was unexpected.

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance.

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb.

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’.

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined.

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache.

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’.

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance.

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause.

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her.

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground.

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales.

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’.

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him.

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips.

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips.

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no – it’s always going to point towards her.

They move in together after that.

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards.

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife.

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while.

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep.

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much.

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold.

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning.

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob.

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly.

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other.

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell.

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way.

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’.

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them.

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in -

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place.

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open.

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’.

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal.

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat.

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath.

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.

He waits.

Then his phone buzzes.

Ah.

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.

“Omi?”

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first.

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind.

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what I want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’.

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face.

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles.

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date.

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again.

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two.

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more.

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party.

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association.

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread.

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name.

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make.

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’.

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake.

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out - pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead.

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability.

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud.

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser.

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist:

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

906 notes · View notes

janetbrown711 · 3 years

Note

“Why are you so nice to me” wakko or yakko max

To Wakko's delight, his brother kept good on his promise. Weeks passed and his brother devoted several days to restoring their bond just as it once was (the other days Yakko spent with Dot or with the both of them).

Heck, Wakko was so secure in his brother not abandoning him when Yakko asked if he could start up writing to Max again (at a much slower pace than before, he promised), Wakko said yes (barely) without hesitation. He knew that Max made him happy... and that he kinda owed it to Yakko to let him hang out with him again, as their little "not exactly falling out" was his fault (to him, anyway).

Everything was starting to seem... good- perfect, even.

However, Dot's birthday was rapidly approaching and Yakko was starting to get ideas.

"You know what we should do?" He said, lounging on the couch in the sunroom. "We should throw a ball for your birthday, Dot."

Dot perked up from her book. "What? Why? We never held balls for our birthdays before."

Yakko rolled his eyes. "That's because Grandma ruins everything. In this book I'm reading it says it was tradition for the royal family to hold big celebrations on their birthdays. I think it'd be fun- plus a great opportunity for you two to start making some friends."

Oh.

This again.

Wakko tried to laugh it off. "You'd have to get mum and dad to agree, and they've been pretty busy with the flooding in the west."

"Bah, that's mostly dealt with at this point. I'm sure they could use the break too," Yakko countered.

"B-but mom's coronation wasn't even that long ago," Wakko argued.

"It was over three months ago," Dot rolled her eyes. "I think a party would be fun," she looked to Yakko.

"Didn't you have fun at mom's coronation?" Yakko asked his middle sibling.

"Well I- I suppose I did..." Wakko thought back to the massive chalk drawing he had covered the floor with. It was pretty fun, and it made a lot of people happy.

"See? I'm sure a party in Dot's honor would be fun all the same- plus, making friends is great, I'm sure you'll love it," Yakko said with a reassuring smile on his face, though Wakko still wasn't quite convinced. However, he could see how much both of his siblings wanted this (even though the idea was only seconds old) and who was he to say no?

"Alright, I guess we can do that," He said, which made Dot clap in excitement as she began to detail everything she'd want for a party in her honor.

Wakko had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

.o0o.

As expected, their parents were ecstatic at the idea, and they spared no expense in attempts to create what they believed a much-needed celebration for the people of Warnerstock and their allies.

And to say it truly was Dot's creative vision would not be false. There were a lot of pinks- a lot, a lot of pinks. Though mostly tasteful, if you saw it it was hard to look away from.

But still, Wakko was happy for her, she was having the time of her life planning it all out with their dad, who was equally happy to spoil his little girl.

However, he knew deep down that despite what Yakko had sworn, her party was probably going to be very different from the coronation. He hoped it would be fun, but the more he watched decorations being put into place and talks about the guests and feasts the more he was beginning to worry.

He didn't say anything though, as the rest of his family seemed far too happy for him to want to bother them with his plight. They deserved this break, he was probably just being dramatic anyways. He'd be fine- and maybe make a friend just like Yakko said he would.

Wakko did his best to remain optimistic, despite the knots forming deep within.

It wasn't too long before the grand day arrived. Wakko had thought they had pulled out all the stops just for decorating but the day itself was insane too. Dot was showered in presents and even was taken out to town with William to go shopping for anything her heart desired, meanwhile Yakko, Wakko, and Lena stayed behind and supervised the final touches on the decorations.

Okay- really only Lena supervised, but Yakko and Wakko were technically there too. They didn't stay with her long, as she gave them a list of things to check up on so she could talk to some people which they were fine with.

Together, the brothers walked through the massive dining hall, checking curtains, flowers, vases, tapestries, etc. to make sure they were in the exact right places (not that the list really said where they were supposed to be) and checked them all off.

"So... are you looking forward to tonight?" Yakko asked, checking off 'left-most curtains'.

"Oh- uh- Yeah! I am... are you?" Wakko quickly said.

"Oh yeah, totally, it'll be great to see Max. It's been a while... you're still cool with that, right?" Yakko glanced down at him before checking another thing off.

Wakko nodded. "I won't try to prank or drive him away this time, I swear."

Yakko snorted. "I know you know better, I'm just asking if you're okay with me hanging out with him for tonight instead of you."

"Yeah, I am. You did say I should make friends after all," Wakko said, fiddling with gloves. Yakko looked away from the checklist and gave his little brother a side hug.

"I'm proud of you, you know that?" Yakko asked.

"Yeah, yeah," It was Wakko's turn to laugh.

"I'm serious-" Yakko let go and punched Wakko's arm lightly. "You're doing great. You should be proud of yourself too, you've come a long way."

Wakko smiled a little. "Maybe."

Yakko chuckled. "Well, it looks like we're just about done with this list. Wanna go turn it in to mom and go get changed into uncomfortable suits and greet guests for hours on end, or do you wanna just double and triple check the list until the last second?"

"Definitely check the list," Wakko laughed too.

And so the brothers did, until Lena caught wind of their shenanigans and forced them to start getting ready for the party (though they did cut a lot of time so technically they still regarded it as a win). At least those outfits weren't the worst they've ever worn (they were pretty confident nothing would ever top how itchy and miserable their funeral outfits were). Still, standing around and greeting people was a dreadfully boring job, not to mention awkward until their father and Dot eventually came to join them and actually do their job properly.

They knew their mom was busy, but leaving the two of them in charge was a little questionable.

Plus, after all that interaction, Wakko was starting to feel weird. Tired, but also not-? It was complicated. All he knew was that he wanted to be alone and maybe pace for a while, that'd be nice.

However, the party was to start in not too long, so he really didn't have time for that. He followed Yakko around for a while to the main party room where the people they had greeted before were all chatting amongst themselves. It wasn't too loud yet, but Wakko's tail twitched nervously as he weaved between people and conversations.

He hadn't been this nervous at the coronation- Wakko really wished he could figure out why he was feeling this way. Alas, he was unable.

He did feel a little better as Yakko and he found a spot of their own to chill in for a while, away from all the people.

"A lot of people came to this shindig, huh?" Yakko joked, "though probably no more than those who attended mom's coronation."

"Yeah..." Wakko said, trying to compare them mentally.

"More kids though, which is really good for you and Dot to make friends," Yakko said.

"Yep, yep," Wakko feigned enthusiasm.

"Are you okay..?" Yakko asked, causing Wakko to straighten out his act instantly and nod.

"Of course," he said. Yakko frowned.

"You don't have to lie you know," He remarked. Wakko bit his lip.

"M'just a little tired," he shrugged, figuring it was close enough to the truth.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Yakko asked worriedly.

Wakko nodded again. "I'll be fine, I'm probably just hungry."

Yakko laughed a little. "Alright, but you'll tell me if anything is wrong, right?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

The brothers stood in a bored silence for a while, before the rest of their family walked in and the festivities officially began.

It started with the feast, which was pretty harmless, as Wakko enjoyed talking with his family and the food was "quite excellent". The hall was filled with good cheer and hearty laughter, which he could appreciate.

However, after that, things began to blur.

It seemed only moments ago he was eating when suddenly everything was taken away and it turned into social hour. and Dot and their parents disappeared once more. He recalled Yakko asking if it was okay for him to go to Max, to which Wakko nodded and even pushed him away some. Oh god- he hoped that wasn't too aggressive.

Now he was alone. People were talking, walking, dancing, all sorts of activities. Wakko tried to take it all in, but all of the colors and sounds were starting to burn his eyes.

Friends. He was told he had to make friends.

He tried looking around for kids his age, but just turning his head made him dizzy.

Hmph.

Still, he was determined to function as a normal child would so he began weaving through the rapidly shifting crowd as he had earlier, just with a much louder and more busy crowd.

Suddenly his suit was starting to feel a lot more uncomfortable than before. God- if he could just find someone-

He bumped right into a lady in a bright purple dress. He quickly stuttered an apology before scurrying away as fast as he could, not even waiting for a response.

Seriously- was his suit trying to choke him? He pulled on it desperately, but if anything it just made the pull tighter. Wakko growled to himself as he walked further and further away from whoever that lady was, until he hit the wall.

At least the marble was cool, it was starting to feel like it was a million degrees in here.

Still, it wasn't enough. he still felt hot, and stuffy- was he even breathing anymore?

...Yes, yes he was. Rather fast though- oh dear, was that his heart? oh god- what was happening? Why was the music so loud? Why was his collar so tight? When was the last time he blinked? Where were these "kids" Wakko was supposed to make friends with?

Wait- no, he could see those. A group of them- shit, they were looking at him. Wakko noticed his nail was twitching nervously- he grabbed it and forced it to stop, but the kids laughed.

Wakko ran away again, covering his ears, his face turning red and the knot in his stomach transporting itself to his throat.

"No, no, no, no. Please, not now..." He pleaded with himself, but he didn't listen, and tears started to form. Wakko looked desperately for a quick way out, but still couldn't find any- curse the size of this place.

However, as his eyes darted around anxiously, he spotted something- a table covered in a white cloth that went to the ground. Without hesitation, Wakko went to it, making sure no one saw him before crawling underneath.

Wakko stayed there, covering his ears and rocking back and forth awhile, cursing his stupid brain for making these stupid tears that wouldn't end. He also cursed the stupid music for being too loud and the guests for being so many.

He wanted Mom.

He wanted mom to come and find him and scoop him up and take him to the playroom and sit in the rocking chair and rock him to sleep.

However, she didn't come.

No one did.

He was alone, and these tears weren't making him any calmer. Everything still felt so loud- it wasn't this loud before- he loved mom's coronation. Why was his brain so stupid?!

The young prince continued like that for a while, before someone came and lifted the tablecloth. He tried to make a run for it, but the someone grabbed his arm before he could- Wakko turned to look at their face and-

It was Max.

"S-sorry, I probably shouldn't... grab you," He let go, and Wakko scooted back, though he didn't leave. Max saw this as an invitation and joined him under the table.

"A-are- uh... Are you okay?" Max asked. Wakko looked away and shrugged.

"Right... not much of a talker..." Max recalled. Wakko nodded once, though he instantly regretted it, as it made his head feel weird.

Max tapped his fingers on his knee as he tried to figure something out. Wakko avoided any looks the Disney Prince gave him.

"Do you want some water? I can go get you some water," Max offered. Wakko sniffled and thought about it, before nodding once more (and regretting it once more).

with that, he disappeared, though not for too long.

Wakko noticed he stopped crying.

"Here, take this," Max handed him the glass. Wakko accepted the offering, taking a long drink.

Well, that felt at least a little bit better.

He glanced at Max.

"A-aren't you supposed to be with Yakko?" he asked.

"Dot was practically begging Yakko for a dance and I let him, it's her day after all," Max chuckled.

That made sense.

Wakko looked down at the glass, tapping his finger against it and looking at the water ripple.

"Do you need to step out of the party for a sec?" Max asked.

Wakko shrugged, taking a sip.

"Here- I'll help you find an exit," Max said, getting up and holding the cloth open for Wakko.

He hesitated.

He didn't deserve this- such kindness from the guy he locked in the tower mere weeks ago- it didn't make sense.

Then again, he'd give anything to get out of here.

Wakko listening to his senses and got out.

Carefully he followed Max through the gigantic room until they eventually reached a door, through which both of them slipped out of and into a calm and dark hallway.

Instantly, Wakko felt calmed, taking a deep breath.

"Wanna sit down?" Max asked, gesturing to the couches nearby. Wakko nodded. However, instead of sitting on the couch, he chose to lay on the cool floor, even taking off his gloves so he could feel the marble with his fingers.

Max didn't say anything for a while, not seeming to mind the silence. Which was good- because Wakko didn't feel like breaking it.

After a while though, a thought nagged at his brain.

Why.

Why on earth would Max help him? After everything he did? After everything he jeopardized? It didn't make sense.

Wakko sat up. Max looked at him but didn't say anything.

Wakko sighed.

"Why-?" He paused.

"Why... are you being so nice to me?"

"You were in trouble, I couldn't ignore that," Max shrugged. Wakko frowned, putting his gloves back on.

"I-i... Aren't you mad? At least a little?" He asked.

"It wasn't my first time being locked in a room for hours on end," Max snorted.

"Y-yeah, but I tried to hurt you. And Yakko..." Wakko looked at the ground. "I know how much you mean to him."

Max blinked.

"I- uh... well-" Max struggled with his words a moment.

"I don't... blame you, I guess. It's as new to you as it is to me and with a past and family tree like yours, I guess I don't blame you for lashing out? I dunno," Max shrugged, looking away.

Huh...

"Still... you didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Trust me, I would've helped any kid I found under there, but I'm glad it was you," Max said.

Wakko looked at him, deciding whether or not he believed that. Ultimately, he did.

"You know... Yakko talks a lot about you," Max said, piquing Wakko's interest.

"He worries a lot, but he says you're a really sweet kid, and I believe that," Max smiled a little. "You should be easier on yourself, you're still growing up you know?"

Wakko thought about that.

"I guess," He said. Max snorted.

"You know... you do seem like a pretty cool kid. I'm sorry if you ever felt I was ignoring you, I promise I'll try to make up for it too," He said.

Wakko thought about that too.

"Thanks," He said.

"I really do hope we can grow to like each other. Yakko means a lot to me and you mean a lot to him... you know?" Max blushed a little, scratching the back of his neck.

Wakko nodded, grinning a little.

"So... are we... cool?" Max asked.

Wakko thought about that as well.

"Yeah, we're cool," He said with his signature smile.

"Cool," Max grinned back. "Because I'm pretty sure Yakko might lose it if his dance with Dot ended and he can't find me."

Wakko laughed.

"Will you be alright?" Max asked, standing. Wakko nodded, getting up as well.

"I'm feeling a lot better... though I think I'll look for mum and dad," He said.

"Fair enough," Max nodded once. "Well- uh... see you around, I guess."

"See you around," Wakko laughed at his awkwardness before going back through the doors and back to the party.

Max followed soon thereafter, hoping Yakko wouldn't be too mad or worried at him for his sudden disappearance.

.o0o.

Yakko couldn't believe that a year ago today he thought his parents were dead. It baffled him honestly- he could turn his head and his parents were right there. They were never really dead- it shocked him to remember sometimes.

He also couldn't believe that only a year ago the most celebration they could share for Dot's birthday was a mini cake they had to sneak late at night.

And now look where he was- dancing in the middle of the ballroom with his little sister having the time of his life- despite the fact Dot couldn't stop giggling and he almost dropped her that one time.

However, he had to draw the line after three songs, which Dot understood, and he gave her back to their parents, hoping Max wouldn't be too mad about Dot taking up so much of his time.

"Ah, Max, there you are- sorry for dancing so long, I have a hard time saying no to her," Yakko laughed between pants, scratching the back of his neck.

"You just got done?" Max teased.

"Yeah, she really liked dancing," Yakko shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You look like you could use a breather," Max raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who, me? Whatever would give that idea?" He played back, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"C'mon- let's go to the balcony," Max said, taking his hand.

When they got to the door Yakko paused as he looked back at his family, unsure. However, his parents looked at him, and after giving a fair look of warning, they both gave him a thumbs up and nod of approval, and Yakko went off with his prince.

However, they didn't pick a random one, they went all the way through the halls to the usual one they'd go to when Max visited Warnerstock (the kid had a thing for balconies).

"Ahh, fresh air," Yakko embraced the cool night.

"Yep," Max embraced it too, immediately going and leaning on the rails.

"Are you liking the party?" Yakko asked.

"It's pretty good- though a little crowded, but I always know how to find some space," Max answered.

"I feel that- when my birthday rolls around, I'll make it a lot less crowded. I don't know what Dot had against having it outside, but what are you gonna do?" Yakko shrugged.

"I think Wakko would appreciate a smaller shindig," Max said, looking at the garden.

"What makes you say that?" Yakko decided to take his place next to Max also leaning against the railing.

"Ran into him- he wasn't having the best time so I helped ground him again," Max said like it was no big deal.

It was.

"Grounded him? You- managed to calm him down? Is he okay? What happened?" Yakko asked quickly.

"Woah, woah, it's okay. He's totally fine, just... overwhelmed." Max said.

"Oh... well... I'm glad he's okay," Yakko took a deep breath. "And I'm even more glad you were able to help him- that's huge... really."

He looked at him when he said that last part. Max blushed.

"I would've helped anyone, seriously," He looked away.

"Mhm, sure," Yakko teased.

"I am serious though- it probably means a lot to Wakko- he doesn't accept help easily and to allow you... it means he's starting to like you," Yakko said in all seriousness.

"That's good," Max nodded. "I really do want your family to like me- I just... don't have the best ways of showing it, I suppose."

"Hey, you're doing great so far," Yakko held his hand.

There was a moment before Yakko realized what he was doing and both boys broke the gesture.

"Haha... yeahhhh," Max looked at the wall away from Yakko.

There was a stretch of silence between the two, neither knowing what to do. Sure they knew what they wanted but... things are never as easy as just doing what you want.

"My dad and uncles like you too- if you care about that," Max decided to say.

"That's good," Yakko smiled a little, rubbing his thumb on the railing.

Another pause.

"You know- It's funny to me how when we met you thought I might too cool for you," Max remarked.

"When did I ever say that?" Yakko said.

"You called me cool at least fifty times upon first meeting me," Max play punched his arm.

"As I recall, you called me cool, so who's the real cool one here?" Yakko punched him back and the princes laughed.

"Alright, alright, you got me," Max chuckled. "I was just trying to say you were totally wrong, I don't have a cool bone in my body."

"God- you're so cool you don't even know how cool you are. Typical," Yakko sighed teasingly.

"Hey, didn't I just say you're pretty cool too?" Max accused playfully.

"Oh please, you're way cooler. No trauma and with fluffy, luxurious hair like that? Please," Yakko rolled his eyes.

"Oh puh-lease yourself. Trauma is just a cool backstory and you're home is a lot more fun and a lot less crowded and your family is a lot more cool too," Max pointed his finger at Yakko.

"You're exaggerating," Yakko pointed back.

"Nope- not at all. You're one of my first true friends and that automatically makes you very cool," Max crossed his arms.

"Oh yeah? W-well-" Yakko paused, looking at Max carefully.

A pause.

Max's dark brown eyes shined back at Yakko, reflecting the stars that surrounded them wonderfully. His fluffy and luxurious hair framed his face with perfect ease. His signature smile slowly turned into that of curiosity.

Yakko felt his heart flutter.

"I'm not as cool as you think," Yakko stepped down, looking at the ground.

Coward.

Another pause.

"..."

"Well maybe you are right- maybe I am cooler than you."

"Wha-?"

Before Yakko could finish the sentence, Max grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a kiss.

"S-see?" Max was internally "fjdkaf;sfj"-ing in his brain. "You've won- I'm a lot cooler."

"Y-yeah," Yakko could barely speak his face was as red as Wakko's hat. "You're... yeah," his face melted into a goofy grin.

"Oh god- I'm sorry- d-did you not mean that..?" Max panicked, quickly becoming embarrassed.

"N-no!" Yakko snapped to life. "I-i... I- uh..."

"I liked it," He managed to say. Max smiled.

"W-... Wanna do it again?" Yakko proposed, and Max nodded, and they shared another kiss.

Yakko knew it was corny to think, but it truly felt just like fireworks in his chest.

He liked Max- Max liked him. A part of himself was realized- and he felt alive. A good kind of alive- not the kind of alive that came from life or death situations.

"So... I guess that makes us even," Max joked. Yakko laughed.

"I guess so," He couldn't get himself to stop smiling- neither could Max. They looked at each other before bursting into laughter again.

"Man, we really should return to the party," Max said.

"Yeah, you're right," Yakko's face was starting to hurt from the smiling.

"Do- uh... do you think your parents will be cool... orrrr...?" Max asked.

"Psh, I'm sure they'll be fine," He said without hesitation.

"Cool," Max said, opening the door out of the balcony.

Yakko looked at him for a moment, trying to absorb the moment as best he could.

"You okay?" Max asked.

"Yep," Yakko said, taking a deep breath as he implanted it in his memory in his brain forever.

"C'mon, let's go before they think we've done something stupid," Yakko said, quickly joining Max and grabbing his hand before running back to join his family.

however, right before entering the party room once more, Yakko paused.

"Does this mean our friendship is basically ruined?" He asked.

Max thought about it.

"I wouldn't think of it as a ruining per se... maybe think of it as an upgrade of sorts," Max winked.

God, he was so much cooler.

"Cool," Yakko grinned, squeezing Max's hand.

"Well... uh- shall we?" Max let go and offered Yakko his arm.

Yakko thought about it.

Taking it would mean no taking it back- it would mean the whole party would basically know that they kissed (holy shit- they kissed! that was a thing that happened!). His parents, his siblings, practically the whole kingdom, and their allies.

Yakko couldn't imagine any other way to walk back in.

He took his arm.

"We shall."

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 The End

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spacedikut · 3 years

Text

exam help ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a self-indulgent blurb about spencer helping with exams :) 1.7k

a/n: first fic of the year :D happy 2021!

masterlist

Another anguish-filled screech reverberates from your and Spencer’s shared office, bringing even your pet fish in the tank to attention.

It’s the third one this hour. Spencer tries to ignore it, just like you told him to, but God you sound like you’re in pain and Spencer can’t exactly ignore that, can he? He loves you and cares for you and- oh. A thump reaches his ears. A textbook, maybe? Did you punch your textbook?

He considers for a moment that the neighbours will be alarmed, perhaps call the police or tentatively knock with a, “Is everything okay in there?”

It wouldn’t be the first time.

What would he tell them? Oh, my apologies, my partner has exams coming up and just told me they get why unsubs do that now. I am also terrified.

There are many instances where Spencer feels useless. During his job, when his mother would have an episode, when his friends have problems he just wouldn’t understand. But, somehow, and maybe controversially, this is the worst type of uselessness. The type that leaves him staring at the wall, questioning everything, the type that makes his stomach drop because all he can do is watch.

He’s been watching you for the last two weeks. He’s sick of watching, of being no help, and he needs to do something before he breaks and does something illegal.

(The illegal thing is doing your exams for you - not illegal as in, perhaps, murder)

Your frazzled head pops out from the office, one hand rubbing your eyes and a permanent frown etched on your face, and with a fragile voice you ask, “Can you make me a coffee, please?”

Now, Spencer feels hypocritical, but he has to say it. “Another? Are you sure?”

He sees the internal battle within you, how you try your hardest not to snap. It’s not his fault you’re stressed. He’s just trying to help. “Yes, I’m sure. Please, Spence,”

“Of course. I’ll bring it in.”

“Thank you.” With a pained smile, you’re gone again into the dark abyss of where you’re studying.

With quick, ingrained movements, Spencer makes your coffee with too much creamer and marshmallows. Unusual, yes, but your current diet consists of coffee and whatever he can force you to consume – like marshmallows.

But then, hello, he spots a chocolate bar haphazardly close to the bin, grabs it, and hopes you let him watch you eat it.

Stepping into the room as quietly as possible, he’s smacked in the face by the smell of lavender. It makes him nauseous, the intensity of it, quickly followed by a lurch of his heart because you poor thing, you’re being crushed by the weight of your degree – literally. The other day you purchased an insanely heavy weighted blanket and you’re drowning in it.

Now, if you were to ask Spencer who the most beautiful person on the planet is, he’d say you in a heartbeat. He’s thought that since you first met and, years later, still stands by that. But now, right now, glowering at him in the dimly lit, lavender drenched study that you used to love oh-so-much? You have the face of a French bulldog, all grumpy and furrowed and too many creases on your face to make Spencer feel like he’s actually helping when he places the coffee and snack on your desk.

Despite the crabby expression, your words are filled with love and appreciation – which happens to be Spencer’s favourite mix. “Thank you, my love.” You take a sip of the coffee, hum in delight, and for the first time in days there’s a spark of something other than torment. “You’re the best.”

Spencer’s hand holds the back of your neck and he places a series of soft kisses to your temple, mumbling, “I love you. Very much. Is there anything else you need?”

“Death.”

“Okay. I’ll work on it.”

At that, you grace Spencer with a weak half-smile. It’s enough to overwhelm Spencer, overflowing and only able to be shown through a chaste, encouraging peck on your lips and a half-hug, Spencer bent at the waist to hold you in your desk chair. He noses your hair, hoping his closeness will alleviate some stress, before stepping back and praying his eyes tell you everything he wants to say but know will elicit annoyance from you.

I love you. Take care of yourself. Rest, please. You can do this, but not if you over exert yourself. I love you.

Your eyes tell him, I’ll try. I love you. And that’s all he can ask for.

But when he leaves, shuffles past his bookshelf, his eyes catch sight of an old file that reminds him of when he was preparing for his own exams.

He gets an idea.

+++

It takes another two days, full of late nights involving work that isn’t staying up and distracting himself with books to avoid worrying over you and how late you go to sleep, and reading that leaves Spencer in awe of you and everyone in your field.

A part of him is amazed by how he wheelbarrowed the resources behind you without you noticing, another is worried about that fact, and the rest of him is excited that he can finally do something that will actually help. At least, he hopes.

(When everything is said and done, despite being endlessly grateful, you also inform Spencer that simply being there and being him and getting you coffee every time you ask is more than enough, really)

With pride, he leans back on the couch, observing his creations on the coffee table. There’s plenty of different colours, all representing a different topic, and he presses the thumbs up to like the Youtube video he was using to ensure his handwriting is easy to read.

Flashcards. Hundreds, if Spencer counted correctly. The textbooks he stole – borrowed – from under your nose lie next to his feet, the weight of them combined more of a workout than he’s (voluntarily) done in eons.

He only hopes you don’t think it’s too late, think he’s overstepping or-or that he’s doing those things that he’s been accused of before – thinking he knows best (he does, but whatever), overbearing arrogance, an unwillingness to hear and accept other people’s way of doing things.

He just wants to help. He wants you to know he’s here for you, no matter what you need. This is the thing that lets him believe he’s doing something, something good and useful. Spencer just wants to be useful.

He’s convinced you to eat a proper breakfast – fruit, oats, bread, meat, a whole buffet – and you sense something is amiss when you hear slow, tentative footsteps creeping from your bedroom.

Spencer, still in his pyjamas, glasses perched on his nose, approaches with a shallow box in his grasp. You swallow your bite, turn to face him. “What’ve you got there?”

The box is slid onto the counter next to your plate hesitantly, as if he regrets his actions as he’s doing them. Peering in, you see a blur of colour, stacks on stacks of rectangular paper filled with writing and questions and even a tips! section.

You pick up the first batch, all light blue, and flick through them, heart getting bigger and bigger with every word you read. And when you realise what they are, what Spencer’s done – for you – your heartrate has skyrocketed and the watch on your wrist is asking you if you’re okay.

“You made me flashcards?” You ask, in awe, again looking at the love of your life to find he’s already staring at you.

“I did,” He tells you, apprehensive and scared, already backtracking, “But, if you don’t think they’re useful, or-or you think I’m overstepping – I’m not trying to, I promise, I just thought…” He starts nervously shuffling and reshuffling some of his creation. “Flashcards are known to engage active recall and metacognition. Research consistently finds that applying metacognitive strategies tends to ingrain memories deeper into your knowledge, and that this kind of active recall retrieval practice leads to one-hundred and fifty percent better retention than passive studying, so…”

Your hands have a mind of their own, pulling what feels like an endless amount of cards out and turning them in your hands, from the questions on the front to the answers on the back, the ones with hints and advice and there’s several with doodles that are so Spencer you hold them to your chest. You’re so enamoured by this man that is still rambling and bumbling because he takes your silence as distaste.

“I just- I hate seeing you so stressed, so I made these. You don’t have to use them, of course. They’re not even that great. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, you’re beyond capable, or that your methods don’t work- Just, personally, I love flashcards. I used them all the time when studying, even though I didn’t really need them, so perhaps a change of medium would do you good-“

A warm hand on his own that keep fidgeting stops him mid-stream of consciousness.

“Thank you,” You say, earnestly, “Really. These are lovely.” You leap from your seat, wrapping Spencer in warmth and love and care, and he shivers when he feels your hot breath on his ear when you repeat your thanks again and again.

When he pulls you even closer, so your torso curves into his own, you feel the lightest you have in weeks. You’re in the arms of the man you love, who knows you love him too and you know loves you so much – enough to spend several nights reading your cursed textbooks so he could create something that might help – and now you’re confident that you can do it. With the help of Spencer and his lovingly hand-made flashcards, you can do it.

And if, somehow, it goes awry, that’s okay too. Because you’ll still have Spencer, your number one fan, who will be there to comfort you and advise you in any way he can. He’ll never let you doubt yourself, never allow a self-deprecating joke if he can help it, because if he has to, he’ll love and support you enough for the both of you until you can do it yourself.

The world feels a little brighter, your breaths feel a little lighter, all because of Spencer. So you kiss him, murmur love against his lips, and get ready to take on whatever dares to come your way.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @wheeledup @shadyladyperfection @joodeduarte @calm-and-doctor @

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #mine #the end is super cheesy but #eeeeeeeeeeeeee

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

hi hi hi i really really really loved your jealous headcanon of levi and your teacher levi!!! i was wondering if i could maybe request something where you kinda mix the two(?) so like theres this event going on in school and the reader is very occupied and busy because shes paying attention to her students and then maybe she talks to some teachers about the event and then levi is just there secretly sulking cause he wants her attention too?? or idk you do you because your works are always soooooooo good thank you<3333

author note :: i did not stick to the prompt which was honestly an accident?/£/):7 but there is jealous levi and reader so i hope it workssss, it’s not that great and isn’t edited...but i hope you enjoy it :-( also thank you for the request you were very kind <3

for this to make more sense you’ll probably have to read my first ever teacher levi post which you can find here !!!!!

requests are always open :-)

word count :: 4.3k ???? longer than i expected ????

levi groans at the mention of sports day before turning to look at you dead in the eyes

he knows this is your doing, you’ve always been big on getting the children into sport and other extracurriculars

now see, he has no actual issue with sports day?? he’s pretty fit if he says so himself!!!

it’s just that he frankly does not have the effort to participate.

another part of him also feels frustrated seeing mike flock around you like an annoying bee

he’s asking all sorts of questions

“are we doing the three legged race again this year?”

“how about javelin?”

“HAHA...mike...”

levi takes one look at you and knows you’re trying to let him down softly, it is his favourite event after all.

“since last year’s fiasco and the way you nearly hit one of the sixth graders i think not.” you awkwardly chuckle patting his shoulder as if it’s any consolation

mike loves sports day, he’s competitive in all of the teacher only events and last year he even tripped you and levi up ON PURPOSE might you add

either way he still lost the teacher’s three legged race last year and ever since he’s been out to gain his title back.

levi remembers, he’s unsure if you do but he remembers vividly having to carry you on his back because you had sprained your ankle pretty badly after your collision with mike.

back then you and levi were still in the middle of your little math vs english debate meaning the whole walk to the infirmary was filled with bickering.

and when levi had placed you onto one of the beds you insisted you could treat yourself when you really couldn’t

the way that scenario ended had been with levi forcing you to place your foot onto his knee as he iced and tended to it

this year levi is not having any repeats of that. yes, he quite liked having some alone time with you, in fact it was one of the first times he stopped to wonder if he liked you.

BUT!!!! having you limp around the corridors wasn’t the best either and you were highly irritable until you were fully healed

“why don’t you actually try this year?” hange stifles a laugh, they’re stood to levi’s left and upon hearing their voice his shoulders sag. he knows he’s in for one hell of an earful

“i do try–”

“yeah whatever. anyway, you want a cupcake?” hange’s gesturing to the haphazardly iced buns in the four plastic containers in their hands

“these are for the bake sale!!” they add in enthusiastically.

levi’s about to shake his head, he’s already donated to the bake sale’s charity fund without paying for any of the baked goods. yes it is purely because he doesn’t trust hange to feed him anything edible

“they’re y/n’s batch :-)” hange’s wickedly grinning knowing they’ve hit their colleagues weakness

without another thought levi’s right hand dives into one of his pockets, fishing his wallet out. he places a few spare coins into hange’s palm

“wOAH, you’re pretty eager aren’t ya??”

their remark flies over levi’s head as he tries to pick out two of the most presentable cupcakes

“you’re so fond of y/n, why not try a little harder like i said?” hange’s thrown the bait in the river and levi completely falls for it. he turns ninety degrees completely forgetting about the cupcakes.

“i’m talking about sport’s day if it isn’t obvious.”

he faces hange directly. he scowls twisted in fake disgust and confusion all at once

“and why would i care about that?” he shoots back

“after walking in on the both of you touching each other up in the janitor’s closet i’m really surprised you’re — mMMPH—” levi’s shoved one of the cupcakes into hange’s mouth

“you’re gonna have to pay for that–”

levi smacks some more money into their palm to appease the issue

“when did you see that and have you told anyone else?” he’s seething right now, there’s no way he or you were unable to notice someone as loud as hange prance into the storage cupboard accidentally

“i haven’t told anyone but it has only been three days since i saw so who knowsss...”

“i’ll do anything for you to keep your mouth shut.” levi’s practically begging at this point

“i think you should buy a whole box of cupcakes as compensation. my eyes will never be the same again.”

levi hands over more than enough money, he’s probably handed over enough for two boxes just for extra measure

it’s not that he’s embarrassed of you or anything no, no, not at all. he just, this sounds so stupid but he isn’t sure what the two of you are????

you’ve kissed, A LOT but the only problem is that there’s never actually been confirmation of... something more? than that?

he’s simply horrible at asking, and seeing the way you’re talking to mike it’s almost getting to the stage of borderline flirting

he’s currently flexing one of his muscles and levi’s unsure if you’re actually gawking at them or feigning interest so mike can get bored and leave sooner

his bets are on you pretending for the sake of mike leaving until you reach out to squeeze his arm appreciatively

...

what is this feeling??

insecurity?? a low self esteem??? levi isn’t entirely sure what the emotion that surges through him at that moment is

but hange sure does, grinning at the scene playing out they shove moblit with their elbow

well, well, well levi getting jealous is certainly something new.

when levi knocks on the door of your classroom you assume he’s come to bother you and ask for the spreadsheet with grade averages and all that technical stuff

english and math grades need to be compared side by side and even though it’s your job to help with the data analysis you’re pretty bad at it so levi’s the one who USUALLY picks up the pieces and does it for the two of you

occasionally mike steps in and helps when levi’s got other stuff in the way

“oh levi!! mike told me he’d be doing this month’s spreadsheet?” you’ve poked your head out of the door to talk to him

levi’s eyes narrow at that because he hasn’t asked mike for help at all.

“i didn’t come here for the spreadsheet but i haven’t even told mike to assist me this month... i wonder why he’s so passionate.” he mumbles the last part under his breath

opening the door up you wave for him to come inside “what you here for then?” you ask, oOoh maybe he’s finished reading an inspector calls?? finally you can talk to someone about the twist at the end

“i’m taking part in sports day properly.” the statement is unexpected and ?? levi ?? take anything other than math seriously ??

“woah... i’m proud of you?? i’m glad you’re seeing it’s important to show the children physical activity is fun.” your smile brightens up the entire room and he begins to feel a little more confident

peering up at him your curiosity doesn’t go unnoticed and he clears his throat, he knows you’re expecting him to say something else

ok, ok, ok. he thinks he’s built enough courage up to ask you

“i’ve never got the chance to ask but would you like to go on a date?” on reflex levi screws his eyes shut, suddenly he’s convinced you’ll say no and reject him. why would you accept??

“sure!”

his eyes flutter open and he feels you grip at the sleeve of his shirt.

well? that went better than he expected?

“where do you want to go?” you ask

“doesn’t matter, but let’s go somewhere after sports day finishes up.”

“are you barely going to try like last year?” you’re munching away at a granola bar - it’s rather bland and makes your throat feel kinda scratchy

you’re midway through drinking some water to deal with the dryness but you nearly spit it out when levi responds

“no. i plan on winning every single teacher event.”

HE WANTS TO??? beat???? everyone???

“you’re planning on beating mike too?” you tilt your head to the side incredulously

levi purses his lips at the mention of his name

“why does that sound so absurd to you?”

“he’s um, very good at sport that’s all.”

“i am too.” levi’s adamant to prove his point to you

“fine, here’s a deal. win at least one teacher event and i’ll try and solve one of your funny math problems or whatever.”

“what kind of deal is that??”

“you’ll be able to see me struggle with numbers, for free!!”

“no. i have something better in mind.” levi bites his smile back, he can’t let you know the idea makes him feel

“and that would be?”

he takes a step forward decreasing the space between the two of you.

“how about you kiss me in front of everyone?”

your mouth falls open because oh wow....? you have no actual problem with the task you’re simply surprised that levi is willing to put the both of you out there like that. the spectacle is bound to raise some eyebrows

“deal?” he holds his hand out for you to shake

you nod your head. “it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

and so your deal is sealed with a firm handshake.

the big day has ARRIVED!!!

all of the students are flooding in through the gates. some carry footballs, other basketballs. you’ve been here for less than ten minutes and had to save a ball from crashing right into an expensive window.

everyone’s wearing active gear, udo walks in with a ski mask on?? which is peculiar but it’s humorous so you don’t tell him off for it

you’ve chosen a comfortable olive green tracksuit, you don’t think you’re in the mood for ski masks like udo is

coincidentally levi happens to show up in the EXACT same type of tracksuit?? everything’s the same to the colour. you both stare at each other for a moment trying to figure out how exactly you managed that but give up, you guess you have similar tastes

the accidental coordinated outfits have a few of your students pointing and chuckling together

gabi and falco are laughing heartily and whispering god knows what about the two of you

“three legged race partner?” levi asks as he fills up some water bottles for the water stand

“oh? mike asked me to be his partner.”

levi doesn’t make it obvious that he’s jealous about it because what adult would be jealous over a three legged race??

but even if you can’t tell levi is pissed mike sure can

he’s walking past the two of you, hands shoved into his pockets when he spots you a few meters away. his eyes sparkle when he sees you. it’s at that moment he senses the dark piercing glare coming from your right.

you’ve yet to notice mike but levi’s seen him approaching from a mile away and he isn’t particularly happy about it.

the good thing about mike is that he knows not to mess with levi.

the two have known each other for years and by now mike knows messing with levi is a death wish in itself.

so when the poor physical ed teacher notices the way levi glowers at him he calls out your name to get your attention - he’s much too afraid to get anywhere near you

“Y/N!!”

whipping your head around you wave at your race partner, why does it look like he’s seen a ghost?? you shove that thought to the back of your mind, he’s probably just tired

“petra doesn’t have a partner and uhh... i think levi’s free. could you work with him instead?”

levi turns away to smile to himself. ah how the tables have turned!!!

“but i want to work with you? it’s always y/n and levi do this. y/n and levi do that!! i wanna try with someone else.”

what you’ve said is a lie. honestly you’d just like to see levi get worked up again

but levi doesn’t get the memo at all. it flies over his head and he huffs thinking if that’s what you want he doesn’t mind. he’ll just show you how he feels.

“it’s okay. i’ll go with petra.” levi nonchalantly salutes at both you and mike as he walks backwards before turning around to locate the ginger in question

WHY DID HE GIVE IN SO EASILY???? YOU WERE JOKING?????

with your mouth open wide mike looks at you once and puts the pieces together

“guessing you wanted him to stick around?” you suddenly hear and god, you feel kinda bad

“oh no!!! i would love to be your partner.” looping your arm with his you smile up at him

whether or not mike believes you isn’t clear but he does return your smile.

there’s a few minutes till the three legged race starts, everyone’s running around. erwin’s knelt down to tie yours and mike’s legs together

as he’s doing so you can’t help but hear a high pitched windshieldy giggle leave petra and you visibly seem annoyed. that’s if your arms crossed over your chest and clenched jaw are anything to go by

levi hasn’t even said anything notably funny ???? what is she laughing at ????

he’s quite literally just standing there making awkward small talk with her

it goes something like this

“have you marked your exams yet?”

levi doesn’t realise she’s said anything till she taps his shoulder and he asks for her to repeat her question

“oh.” he thinks for a while. “no not yet. i’ve got better shit to do. i don’t see them till next week either way.”

and then she just starts laughing so hard that she has to hold her knees and when that isn’t enough she holds onto a nearby pole for support

you see where this is going

when her breathing gets even more uneven she reaches out to grab levi’s upper arm

YUP. you knew it. you can’t be mad at her really. no one knows you and levi are sort of a thing.

a thing? is that the term? well, whatever late night calls discussing books and a few heated kisses in private mean that’s what you are

levi stares at the hold she has on his arm and you expect him to shrug her off. instead he sees you look, smirks a little and waves all the while letting her hand stay there

and the icing on the cake is petra waving at you too and her eyes are much more expressive than she thinks they are

she’s internally laughing at you for sure.

ok, not a big deal, NOT a big deal!!!

this is just him getting back at you for before.

flipping your head back your sad expression probably catches mike’s attention because he seems to cave in

“want to make him jealous back?”

his suggestion is interesting but you catch yourself second guessing

“he’s doing that because he’s jealous.” you mumble shaking your leg to test the strength of erwin’s knot

“and? don’t let him win.” he glances at his shoulder gesturing for you to make the next move

nodding your head vigorously you throw your arm over mike’s shoulder but find he’s too tall to make that work so instead you settle on holding him by the side

it takes you a little to adjust to the close proximity but in the time it takes you to do that mike informs you of levi glaring at the two of you

“mind if i hold onto you here? we can coordinate our moves faster!!!” petra doesn’t even wait for levi to agree to what she says. she just flings one of her arms around his torso

again, he lets her just as last time.

this game of cat and mouse is getting tiring, maybe you should have kept your mouth shut when mike approached you.

“ON YOUR MARKS.”

your senses snap back to where you are. your grip on mike’s torso firms and he turns to nod at you.

you nod back.

you’ll win this.

“GET SET.”

“AND GO!”

okay, SO.

something in your game plan must have gone wrong but mike’s strength is something you’ve clearly underestimated. his first step is so powerful you don’t even have the time to start moving

you assume that’s how you collapse to the ground behind him and scrape your hands onto the cement of the track

so much for winning. all you’re doing is bleeding and hissing trying to cope with the stinging sensation

“mike?!?? not again??” hange groans and jogs over to the two of you untying the ropes at your legs.

“do we have to ban you from another event??? you’re too reckless sometimes.” hange smacks his chest and then hurriedly whispers “levi’s coming this way if you value your life you better bolt and use the first aid kit as an excuse.”

mike doesn’t even debate with himself, that’s his best bet at staying alive and so he dashes away as if he’s left the shower on at home for five hours unattended

some students are murmuring under their breaths and luckily for you the forever reliable gabi and falco have come to your rescue with bandages

“show me your hands.” levi’s hard voice interrupts all discussion. petra’s stood peering over his shoulder and you swear you catch her muffling a laugh

levi frowns. “you good?” he asks. you assume this answer will be the deciding factor regarding whether or not he makes this an issue with mike

“i’m great – trust me!! just a few scrapes.”

levi doesn’t look convinced but he let’s it go.

he helps you get up and takes the bandages from gabi thanking her.

“i’ll patch y/n up.” he tells hange pointedly and they agree. moblit at that moment happens to run over with a megaphone in hand.

“SHOWS OVER FOLKS!! WE’LL MOVE ON TO THE JUMP ROPE EVENT FOR NOW!!!”

“i’ll make him lose the one hundred meter sprint so badly he won’t know what hit him.” levi’s been grumbling the entire time he’s sat down to bandage your hands.

now that you’re both sat close to each other again murmurs of “matching tracksuits??” are back

“you don’t have to it was a mistake levi.”

levi shrugs eyes scanning his handiwork. “i want to. i’ve got to earn my kiss in front of a crowd anyway.”

gently letting go of your hand he looks out onto the track waiting to be called.

you’ve never seen levi give his full effort into sports day but even then you’re unsure if he’ll ever be able to beat mike.

honestly mike sure is fast and you recall one of the children referring to him with the nickname lightening bolt

and speak of the devil. a group of children walk past and are talking about the teacher’s race

“mr bolt’s gonna win for sure. you seen him run?? he could be an olympian!!!!” zofia’s gushing about him, she happens to be a big fan

the only nickname you’ve ever heard for levi is ursula – “ursula sure is evil for giving us that much work >:(” you had heard udo say once during class but after the earful he got from gabi he never used the name again, neither did anyone else

a few more minutes pass in a comfortable silence and levi’s called over to his lane. you’ve accepted the fact that there’s no changing his mind and he’s bound to compete now

“wait for me by the finish line.” he instructs and so you do. you go your separate paths. he to his lane (he’s in the lane two) and you to the finish line

petra’s already standing there waiting. her elbows are propped onto the railing peering out towards the contestants.

making your way to stand with her you see her sigh dreamily at levi in the distance

“hey, i know you don’t like levi a whole lot. you know your fued and all but do you think he’d say yes if i asked him out?”

well.

that sure is unexpected.

you fight the urge to scoff because you know you and levi are starting to drop more hints. is this her way of finding out the truth?

“me and levi don’t hate each other actually.”

“oh, well dislike.”

“we don’t dislike each other.”

“tolerate?” she takes her bottom lip in between her teeth trying to control her frustration

“petra. i like levi.” your confession knocks the wind out of her. you both silently exchange looks. she’s very clearly in disbelief.

the next time she speaks the previous playful lilt in her voice is long gone

“as soon as you noticed i liked him you just had to decide you liked him too. people like you make my skin crawl.”

?????????

why is she so bitter?.)/&£:

you can’t help liking levi and he likes you too,, so what now??

“he likes me back petra. can we be civil about this? i don’t like workplace drama. i had no idea you were into him.” you’re hoping that this will happen to shut her up but NO!!! it doesn’t she’s only more mouthy now

“prove it.” she points one of her manicured fingers into your chest and demands evidence she doesn’t even deserve to see

“what???”

“if he likes you back so much he should be able to show it.”

you know, if it were any day, any other time or any other person asking you this you would have out right refused, but given the circumstances and levi already waiting on you to kiss him in front of the entirety of the school you see no issue with having the last laugh in this argument

“fair enough.” you mutter and lean over to see hange announce the countdown

“ON YOUR MARKS.”

“GET SET.”

“AND GO!!!”

you swear you blink because GOD what on EARTH????? you don’t understand why previous to this levi balked at the thought of participating because he’s made it look so easy.

he’s not bolted he may as well have TELEPORTED to the finish line. mike is breaking out in a sweat far behind him and the boyish grin on levi’s face is enough to tell how he feels

gasps and applause can be heard from the children. zofia and udo are passionately arguing about some bet they’ve made - you make a mental note to tell them that making deals is fun as long as they don’t bet large amounts of money

levi’s jogging up to you completely ignoring petra’s presence

“told you i’d do it. i avenged you didn’t i?” you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so confidently in public

you acknowledge what he’s said with a cartoon like thumbs up and then you’re staring at him unable to locate your courage

oh fuck it

you lean in hurriedly and steal a peck from him. he blinks and then scowls much to petra’s amusement. she has to think he’s about to curse you out but unbeknownst to her she’s read the situation wrong

“is that your idea of a kiss??”

and then he takes matters into his own hands – no literally into his own hands. he cups your face in his palms and captures your lips with his own. as you reciprocate petra can be heard choking on her saliva.

“OH well who would’ve guessed the english and math department had an alliance????? not me???” next is hange, they’re feigning shock even though they’ve known what the two of you have been up to this entire time

the whispers have now become full on shouts

“i KNEW it they were dating?!?!”

“MAN??? I HAD A CRUSH ON MR ACKERMAN WHAT NOW???”

gabi and falco are audibly cheering, you’re quite sure they realised what was up long ago

“DON’T BE UPSET BUT I THINK THIS IS WAYYY BETTER THAN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE!!!!” falco’s comment makes your heart rise in your chest

and you know what? you think so too.

as levi’s hand travels to the back of your neck pressing you further into him you come to the conclusion that maybe just maybe this is far better than pride and prejudice ever will be :-)

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

i know you get deja vu

word count: 1.4k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, cursing, it's mild angst up in this b

recommended listening: deja vu | olivia rodrigo

a/n: wrote this short little ditty while avoiding my adult responsibilities lmao. it is not great but i really like the premise, maybe one day i'll do something more with it

Your eyes have to be failing you.

There’s no way he showed up, let alone with another girl – who looks shockingly similar to you. She’s a more polished, more refined version of yourself, and anger bubbles in your stomach the moment you see him walk through the door with her in tow.

When your parents informed you they’d invited Pierre-Luc to your graduation party you shrugged it off. Their reasoning was he’d been a large part of your college experience, and it was sound enough logic. You stumbled across him in a coffee shop during your freshman year and quickly fell into a romance that lasted until a few months ago. The breakup was rather brutal, though your family doesn’t know that, so you didn’t expect him to stop by your parents’ house to congratulate you on completing your degree.

Much to your distaste he does make an appearance, with who you presume to be his new girlfriend. You don’t want to stare at the pair, but you can’t help it – they look good together, possibly better than you and Pierre did. However, you notice that the young woman has on a dress that’s identical to one hanging at the back of your closest. Pierre had bought it for you when you accompanied him to France one offseason, and the thought of him replicating the trip with her crosses your mind.

Finding it too much to be in the same room as him, you excuse yourself from a conversation with some of your father’s business partners and grab your sister by the elbow on the way into the sunroom.

“What’s the matter with you?” She grumbles, upset you pulled her away from a conversation with a boy she has a tiny crush on.

“He’s here,” you whisper shout, doing your best to inconspicuously point to the culprit of your dampened spirits.

“Who?”

“Luc.”

Her expression softens, and it’s clear she feels sorry for you. “Shit. I didn’t think he was actually going to show up.”

You let out a rather strangled laugh. “Me either, but he’s here and I don’t know what to do.”

The two of you stay tucked inside for a few more moments, deriving a plan that gets your ex-boyfriend off the premises as fast as possible without him seeing you. She heads outside first, making sure to grab one of your cousins who’s obsessed with hockey on her way. Together they make a beeline for Pierre, who is beyond excited to catch up with your family. You slip through the door and into a conversation with some fellow graduates in the back corner of the yard. It isn’t interesting, just about future plans, but it keeps you occupied. You’re careful to keep you back turned and your voice low – anything to keep your existence inconspicuous.

Your sister keeps Pierre-Luc busy, chatting to him about how the playoffs went and what his goals for the offseason are. A small crowd gathers around him, mostly just extended family members who haven’t seen him in a while, and he indulges their questions with a kind smile. You can tell your luck is running out, that he’s finally going to spot you in the crowd and rush over to say whatever he came here for. The fates are cruel, and at that moment your mother calls everyone into a circle for a toast.

“I want to thank you all for coming,” she says, pulling you to stand beside her. You can tell Pierre is looking at you, but you avert your eyes and look anywhere but him. Your mother continues talking. “We’re incredibly proud of our daughter for completing her degree, and we can’t wait to see what she does next. If you’re here, we appreciate the role you played in her success. To Y/N!”

Your name is chanted like a chorus, and your eyes meet Pierre’s as he raises his glass. The intensity of his stare makes you blush, and you bury your head into your father’s shoulder, playing it off as being overcome with emotion. More toasts ensue, including one where you thank everyone for their continued support, and then the cake is cut. You try to slip inside, praying that Pierre-Luc and his date will leave, but the devil himself grabs your elbows as you open the back door.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, accent thicker then the last time you heard his voice. You can’t lie to yourself – he looks good. The sunshine has done wonders for his skin, and the tattoos peeking out from his shirt sleeve look new.

“Thank you.”

You offer nothing more to the conversation, which clearly upsets him, but he doesn’t do anything other than knit his brows together. It makes sense that you wouldn’t want to speak to him since the last time you did was the screaming match that ended your relationship. You go to make your exit, but the small girl hanging off Pierre’s side speaks.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she smiles. “I’m Maisie. Luc talks about you a lot.”

“Pardon?” You’re caught off guard. Why would he talk about you to his new girlfriend?

The man in question shifts uncomfortably, like he’s going to get caught in a lie. “Yeah, it’s so nice that you guys are still friends.”

There it is. Saying that you split amicably is probably the only way he could convince her to attend this stupid party in the first place. “Ah,” you sigh, “Well not everyone is afforded the same luxury.”

Against your better judgement, you compliment her dress. Maisie thanks you graciously, explaining that Pierre bought it for her and once he’s cleared to leave Columbus they’ll be taking a trip to France, with a pit-stop in Portugal because she’s never been. Your insides churn, but you manage to keep a glaringly fake smile plastered on your face. The conversation shifts, and you find out that she also studies English Literature and expects to graduate next year. You laugh off all the coincidences, but it’s obvious to you and Pierre-Luc that Maisie is a substitute for the person who came before her.

“Why don’t you go get us some drinks babe?” Pierre asks, and the girl skips away after reaching on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

You fiddle nervously with the hem of your dress, anxious to be alone with him. “It isn’t what it looks like,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“It’s exactly what it looks like Luc, and don’t you fucking dare say otherwise.”

He lets out a defeated sigh. “So what if it is? I think it’s glaringly obvious that I still love you.”

No shit you think, but you bite your tongue and say something more respectable. “I’d say so. She’s exactly like me, but hopefully she won’t mind being asked to put her whole life on hold.” There’s a bite to your tone that you can’t help, but it sets Pierre-Luc on edge.

“You can’t still be fucking on about that.”

You’re seeing red now, irate that he is still choosing to minimize your emotions. “I am! Because you asked me not to continue school, which is something I explicitly told you I wanted to do, just so I could be a more conventional NHL girlfriend. And then you broke up with me when I said I wouldn’t do it.” You inhale a deep breath before continuing. “I hope you have fun with Maisie in France. You should take her to that little café we went to, in Bordeaux, where we ate so much food we couldn’t walk back to the hotel. And I hope that every time she looks at you like you hang the moon, you remember that you’re recycling our entire relationship because you let it fall apart at the seams.”

Perhaps your emotions got the best of you, because the look on Pierre-Luc’s face is nothing short of shock. You’re taken aback too – your parents raised you better than to say hurtful things, but seeing him again brought up a myriad of things you hadn't yet dealt with. Without another word, you spin on your heel and head inside, slamming the door behind you. It shouldn’t upset you this much, after so many months, but for a reason you’re unwilling to admit to yourself it does.

You sit in the bay window of your childhood bedroom, wrapped in a blanket even though it’s the beginning of summer, and watch as Pierre-Luc presses a kiss to her forehead before thanking your parents for inviting him one last time. Just like him, every relationship you have for the rest of your life will be an attempt to replicate the love you had for Pierre – a never-ending circle of deja vu.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice @2manytabsopen if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#pierre-luc dubois imagine #pierre-luc dubois x reader #pierre-luc dubois fic #winnipeg jets imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites

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elareine · 3 years

Note

Tim realizing that since Jason has been in the pit, Jason is always cold. He cant get warm. Tim throws himself into working this out, there has to be something to warm Jason.

Hi, anon, thank you for your patience. I… took the sappy route with this. Since this got longer than 1k, I posted it on ao3, too.

Attempt One

“How’re you doing?”

Tim eyes the bundle in front of him critically. Jason dropped by his safe house thirty minutes ago, teeth chattering after an encounter with Mr. Freeze, and he only looked marginally better. The chattering stopped; that can be a good sign or a very bad one.

Jason gives him a weak grin. “Alright. No danger of turning into an icicle any time soon.”

Hmm. Tim will see that for himself.

When he moves, Jason lifts a hand in protest. “Hey, no—“

Tim completely ignores Jason’s protests—he’d feel worse about it if it wasn’t the only way to handle injured Bats—and sticks his hand between the isolation blanket and Jason’s neck… just to flinch back. “Holy shit!”

“Nah, it’s—“

“It’s hypothermia, is what it is!” Whatever bullshit is coming out of Jason’s mouth, Tim is not listening. “You’re going into shock! We gotta get some extra heat in here, or maybe actually call the hospital; I’m not equipped for this—“

Jason’s hand closes over his mouth. Tim gives him a second to remove it, then he licks it.

Jason just grins. “As I was trying to say: It’s always like that. My body temperature never went back to normal after daying.”

“Nnr?”

“Never.” Jason shrugs. He looks completely unbothered in a way that leaves Tim incensed. That’s just stupid. Did Jason just accept the fact that he’s in constant discomfort as if that’s not a thing there should be—should be—multiple solutions to, what the fuck. Tim is gonna fix this, so God help him.

Tim is so busy coming up with 315 possible solutions that he even forgets to bite Jason’s hand for a moment.

(Only a moment, though. “Ouch!”)

Attempt Two

“I’m not sure how you think piling more blankets on me will help me raise my core temperature.”

“Of course it’s not.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at the three blankets currently on top of him. “Right. Silly of me.”

Tim rolls his eyes. Men. So ungrateful. “Your core temperature is obviously affected. That’s why I brought heating blankets.” Many, many heating blankets. Jason ends up looking somewhat like a disgruntled duck by the end. Tim has pictures to prove it.

Thirty minutes later, Tim takes Jason’s temperature. Still way, way too low for a human. He sighs. That would’ve been too easy, huh.

“You know,” Jason waggles his eyebrows, “there’s a rather more traditional way of warming up under the blanket.”

Tim swats his head. “Keep it in your pants.”

“Even if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to tell under all these blankets,” Jason tells him mournfully.

Tim decides that retreat is the better part of valor. For today. Just until he can stop imagining what Jason could do to… warm up.

Attempt Three

“A hot bath.”

“…you think I haven’t tried that?”

No. No, actually Tim doesn’t, and his expression must adequately convey that cause Jason throws his hands up. “Okay, no, I haven’t, not really. My place isn’t that fancy.”

“It certainly doesn’t have this tub. Now shoo, get out of these clothes.”

“Why, darlin’, you only ever had to ask.” Without ceremony, Jason pulls off his shirt, then begins working on his belt. “Alright, tell me: What makes this tub special?”

“From observation, I conclude that your resistance to high temperatures has also increased,” Tim begins in an excellent mad scientist voice, just to drop it right after. “Or you wouldn’t be able to wear that fucking jacket in summer. So I engineered a tub that will slowly heat up to a temperature just above 50 degrees Celsius.”

“I sure hope so,” Jason grumbles as he climbs in, unabashed in his nudity, “cause right now it’s really fucking cold, babybird.”

Funny cause Tim thinks it’s definitely getting hot in here.

Hoping his face doesn’t heat up—haha—, he looks down at his phone and activates the heat settings on the tub. “At least,” he says thoughtfully, “we don’t have to worry about accidentally causing a heart infarct or anything like with normal freezing victims. I think.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“We’ll take it slow, anyway.”

Almost two hours later, Jason’s skin is red and wrinkled and covered in glitter from Tim’s bath bomb. He’s still cold to the touch.

Attempt Four

“Tea? Really?”

“You like tea.” Jason has been hanging around Tim’s place often enough that the younger man knows. (If there’s a corner of the top shelf just dedicated to Jason’s favorite blends, well, they don’t talk about it.) “And anyway, this tea is special.”

Jason put down the cup. “Tim.”

“Yes?”

“Tell me you didn’t get this from Ivy.”

“I didn’t get this from Ivy,” Tim recites just a little too dutifully. Truthfully, he hasn’t—it’s of his own creation in the lab—but seeing Jason squirm is just too funny.

“The things I do for you, babybird,” Jason sighs and exes about half of it. When nothing obviously terrible happens, he drinks the rest in small, careful sips.

“Nothing?”

“A hint of chamomile—I get that one, soothing—and… bergamot?”

“Yeah, that’s your favorite, right?” Tim’s taking down notes and is only half-listening. “How do you feel? Any warmer?”

When Jason doesn’t reply right away, Tim does look up. “Jay?”

The older man has a slight smile on his face. “A little warmer, yes.”

Tim brightens and jumps up. Jason lets him stick the thermometer under his tongue without any objection. Tim is a little disheartened when it climbs up to 33°C and stays there, again, though he tries to stay focused on the positives: “I guess it’s a start, though. After all, the perception of warmth is just as or more important than the objective temperature.”

“Uhuh.”

“Also, you didn’t turn green, so that’s good.”

“Tim!”

Attempt Five

“Okay, if this doesn’t work, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Please tell me you’re not hooking me up to electrodes.”

“Sorry, that’s too dumb a lie even for me.” Tim is about to demand that Jason takes his shirt off again—an unfortunate side effect of this type of experiment, really, how terrible that he has to ogle those pecs and abs again—when he pauses. “Wait. Is that… a bad thing?”

Which is terrible phrasing for Is this something that was used to torture you? but Jason seems to get it cause he shakes his head. “Nah, just didn’t know you’re into that.”

“I’m not!” Tim isn’t.

…at least, he doesn’t think he is? There’s certainly something to be said about the inherent homoeroticism of applying gel to another man’s skin and attaching electrodes. He’s so caught up in the entire thing—and the way Jason’s muscles jump and twitch when Tim applies his own brand of stimulant ray to them—that he doesn’t notice how quiet Jason is, too.

However, in the end, the thermometer still reads 33°C.

“Fuck,” Tim mutters. “I really thought I had it.”

“Guess I can put my shirt back on.” Jason makes no move to do so.

“Yeah.” Tim is looking at his notes again, trying to figure out where he went wrong. His joking words at the beginning aside, there are still options, avenues for him to pursue. It’s just that these are the most promising ones, and Tim can’t bear the thought of failure. The idea that Jason will just—will just have to live like this, forever cold and disconnected—

He lifts his face when he hears Jason putting his shoes and jacket on. “You don’t have to leave. I can still—“

“Nah, it’s fine. There’re only so many sex jokes I can make before even I can take the hint,” Jason sighs. “Thanks, though, Tim. I really appreciate the effort.” He turns toward the window.

It takes 4.7 seconds for Tim’s brain to catch up with that, and then another 2.4 for it to convince his body to move.

“Jay! Wait!”

The Solution

The afternoon sun throws golden rays into their bedroom. Tim can feel her rays tickle his face, his eyes, so he turns further into the embrace that’s been offered to him all night. Jason doesn’t wake up, just snuffles out a slight snore and pulls Tim half on top of him as if his boyfriend is some sort of overgrown teddy bear.

Tim snuggles into the crook of Jason’s neck contently. In his opinion, there’s no better place to be: His lover underneath him, chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, warm and alive and here for Tim…

Wait.

Warm. Jason’s warm.

Tim scrambles up and frantically reaches for his bedside, where the damned thermometer has a place of pride after the last time he got sick, and Jason returned the favor by taking his temperature every five minutes.

“Babybird…?” Jason’s voice is rough with sleep. Tim feels a little bad about waking him up, but: !!!!

The thermometer climbs. And climbs. When it stops, it reads 36°C degrees.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Tim whispers, awed.

“Nope,” Jason agrees amiably. “You’ll figure it out, though. Can I have some more snuggles first?”

On the one hand, Tim is dying to look this up in the literature and maybe talk to someone who knows Lazarus Pits better. This doesn’t make sense scientifically, so there has to be some magic involved, right? Perhaps the pits are more into metaphors than they thought, or—there are so many possibilities, and Tim can’t wait to explore them.

On the other hand… Jason’s looking soft and warm, opening his arms for Tim, and he’s smiling. It’s no contest, really.

Tim presses a kiss to Jason’s cheek and sinks back into his embrace, scientific pursuits forgotten.

#elareine writes #jaytim

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stellocchia · 3 years

Text

Alright, now that I got some sleep, time for an overly long analysis on Tommy’s second prison visit!

I’m only talking about character in the rp from here on out, not the cc’s unless explicitly stating otherwise

First of all, a clarification is in order: was it Dream’s plan from the very start to get put in prison to end up in this situation? No. Does this mean he couldn’t have caused this to turn things in his favour? Also no.

Dream has proven before that he’s a rather flexible character (kinda has to be with a nemesis like Tommy), he’s been put multiple times in unexpected situations and managed to come out of top. We don’t know if he expected L’Manburg to be reborn after the 16th, and yet he managed to have the whole cabinet wrapped around his fingers. He didn’t expect Tommy to threaten him with Spirit, and yet he spun it around on him. We also know he didn’t expect Tommy to leave Logsteshire (he was talking about it with Punz, it’s the reason he went to check on him shortly after because he realized he may have stepped too far and broken Tommy out of his manipulation there) which offered him the opportunity to frame him for the community house disaster later on.

He is nothing if not resorceful.

Another thing we have to discuss when talking about the visit is the themes of their relationship:

- Dream’s possessiveness/obsession

- The whole Dream finding Tommy “fun”

- Their “game”

More under the cut

- For the first point, when I say “possessivness” I mean that Dream literally regards himself almost as Tommy’s owner. Don’t believe me? Let’s talk about how he treats Tommy’s canon life then!

Remember all the way back during exile? To keep Tommy in line Dream consistently threatened to take his last life, implying that he would have been fine with Tommy dying, yet, as soon as Tommy showed signs of wanting to take his own life, Dream bust out the line “it’s not your time to die yet”, 2 times in fact. Why? Well, Dream wants control in all things, not only that, but he clearly thinks he’s in the right in wanting it. Of course the life of his favourite toy is no exception. Also let’s not forget about the terrifying scene on top of the obsidian grid where, when Tommy said that their story would be over soon, Dream immediately took control again assuring him it would never be over.

There is also Tommy explicitly stating that Dream was “borderline his owner”, in case we needed an additional affirmation, in the stream where Mexican Dream made an appearance in exile.

Also, I have to mention that during the first Prison visit Dream, when talking about what he missed, grouped Tommy together with “his stuff”... can’t get much clearer then that

- Dream’s describing Tommy as “Fun” has been a reoccurring creepy theme between them. But is it soley done out of manipulation or does Dream actually feel that way in his twisted world view? I’d say a bit of both to be honest.

Clearly there is a level of gaslighting with it were he used to say it at the very start of Tommy’s exile to get him in the frame of mind of considering Dream his friend and trying to convince him that they always had fun together (trying to get him to switch his anger from being directed at Dream to being directed at his old friends), but that’s not all.

Dream, in cutting all his known attachments, is left with only Tommy as an attachment, Jack is right on that one, which is the rason why his obsession seems so extreme. That said, it’s pretty obvious that he does sort of find his relationship with Tommy “fun”. It’s the reson why literally everyone else is a replaceable pawn, but Tommy isn’t. Don’t get me wrong here: he doesn’t see him as a human and, despite him “caring” in his twisted way, there is NOTHING healthy about their relationship. But it is still important to point out that Tommy is extremely important to Dream.

- Their game is something we’re all well aware of. They are regarded by so many people as the hero and the villain of the server, even though neither of them accepts their assigned role. That said they both view the other in the role assigned to them. Dream doesn’t see himself as a villain, but he does see Tommy as a hero and vice-versa. And, just like that, the stage for their “game” is set.

Only problem? Only one of them is playing the game. We know this from the season 2 finale: the reason Dream kept coming down and trusting Tommy was because he thought Tommy was as attached to their “game” as he was, but he was wrong. Tommy HAS other attachments, plenty of them, he’s not dependent on Dream and that’s also probably why Dream is so obsessed with him in the first place: everyone else is predictable, easy to use. They aren’t surprising, they aren’t “fun” (remember that? Remember Dream goning “Tubbo isn’t fun” when Tommy said he had as much value as himself? Because I sure do) they are boring pawns.

You’d think he may think differently of someone like Techno but, despite him acknowledging his strenght, he has no reason to think he won’t be able to use him every time at the smallest promise of violence as it worked every time before. George and Sapnap? When’s the last time Dream showed them he cared in any way? He used them time and time again and then left them behind when the relationships required work on his side to mantain. He didn’t even speak to Sapnap during his visit! He regards Quackity as barely an annoyance (remember what history left on him in the Lost City of Mizu? Just a Fool). Punz and Sam were both people he paid, only means to an end. They ALL played his game and followed his rules, which is what made them predictable. It's what makes them so replaceable.

Now that the themes are established, let’s move on to the analysis of the visit itself!

First of all: big foreshadowing from Sam with the missing books (which Tommy admitted to not remembering the content of) and from Tommy saying how much he trusted and appreciated Sam. It doesn’t have much to do with the analysis, but we all pointed it out.

That said, what was Tommy’s objective with this visit? Closure. Tommy wanted to make their game finally stop for good, he wanted to reclaim the control over his life that he hasn’t had for a while now. Not over his literal last life nor over hid day to day life. Both used to be controlled by Dream.

Dream “loosing” his clock is the first information we learn. But, remember during Bad’s visit when Bad convinced Sam to give Dream one last chance to get his clock back if he behaved? And then again with Sapnap? Dream wanted the clock to go, that’s why he kept burning it despite the warnings. Why? Could it be that he was planning to get someone to stay with him in there? Isolation affects you much harder when you’re not aware of the passage of time after all...

“That’s the Tommy I know!” from the start of the visit Dream is trying to re-establish their “bond” and get Tommy in the mindset of them being “friends” again. I mean, it’s not a coincidence that he’s never been this talkative or friendly in any of the visits from other people.

Other point in favour of Dream having planned this long stay is the sheer number of potatoes he had stored. Also, may I add that he immediately started giving them to Tommy? He started before the tnt and explosions, before he should have known Tommy was gonna stay. He never did this before during any of the visits we’ve seen. Establishing his role as provider again like back in exile I see...

Dream also started immediately demanding for Tommy to visit him more, but Tommy does turn it down just as quickly by explaining that that would be the last visit (if Dream wasn’t planning to act this time, he changed his mind in this moment. He’s very adaptable remember? And his main accomplice was online...). Of course, Dream isn’t happy about it.

We already established that Tommy is the only one he finds “fun” (as far as we know), having him stopping visitations entirely wouldn’t be good for Dream. There is also the fact that Tommy is deciding to move on on his own. It’s Tommy’s choice under Tommy’s complete control and Dream has already shown he’s not too kin on that being a thing.

“Anything you want to say to me now, you have to say to me now, because I’m not visiting you again” “Why?” I’m highlighting this piece of dialogue because I think it’s pretty indicative of Dream still being convinced that they’re both still playing the game. Sure, Tommy outplayed him for now, but the game is not over, is it? Tommy can’t just decide to drop him can he? They both have so much “fun” after all...

Of course though, to Tommy the “why” should be obvious. Because of Dream he’s struggling with severe ptsd. He’s afraid of plains biomes, of lava, of heights to a certain degree, of black stone (both because of the Attachments vault and the Final Control Room on this one), of tnt, of small holes (big enough to drop your items in as he said), of giving up his stuff and of Dream acting Friendly. Dream hurt him a great deal to the point were he’s not managing to settle down even now, he’s still afraid. How can Dream not see how he hurt him? How can he not understand? In Tommy's mind it just doesn't make sense.

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES (had to add this because it was just funny... why are there always bloopers with this 2?)

Potatoes again. Again the tnt had not started to go off yet. And Tommy eats them again immediately, of course. I can’t stress this enough, but this is done again to re-establish the dependency tommy had on Drem during exile. While he didn’t entirely depend on dream for food (he barely ate and he had Mushroom Henry), he used to be entirely dependent on him for protection, getting to the point where he would hardly defend himself from the mobs when they attacked him even when Dream wasn't around. Of course Dream can’t provide “safety” while he’s in prison, so he has to find something else.

“You had all this shit coming” “I did but... you know... maybe one day” “No! Have you seen this prison? It’s kind of the most secure thing ever” They are talking about two different things here. Dream is implying that, maybe, they’ll let him out in the future while Tommy, having already decided to move on and not worry about Dream anymore, is implying that the only way Dream is getting out is if he manages to escape, which he won’t. Quite different from the first visit were Tommy showed quite a bit of hesitance when asked if he would ever let Dream out.

“Unless you have extreme therapy” Tommy recognizing the importance of therapy I see! No, but, more importantly, this goes to show that Tommy is moving on from his exclusively vengful mindset he had at the start (which was more then understandable, btw). At the start of this visit he said he didn’t think that Dream deserved to die anymore and now he’s recognizing that he needs help, Tommy however also knows he’s not the one who should be helping him, he can’t. Still, he’s empathizing with him, because he can’t help doing so. Despite everything, Tommy always tends to see others as their own individuals, even when the same is often not true in reverse.

“I mean exile wasn’t that bad... right? I mean, we hung out” again, tying it back to the themes in their relationship, this fits so well. Of course exile wasn’t that bad, right? After all: why would Tommy have needed anyone else when he had his Best Pal Dream? And here’s the thing: we can’t know how much of what Dream says is just manipulation and how much of it he believes, but Dream has shown enough signs of being dependent on Tommy as his only attachment that we can assume there is, at the very least, some level of truth in this. I mean, if you remember back when he blew up Logstedshire, he didn’t even wanna believe that Tommy was suicidal. Tommy told him directly, but was dismissed. Why? Not because Dream wasn’t extremely opposed to him taking his own life, he’d already shown that not to be the case. Perhaps because he actually didn’t think it was that bad? Maybe he didn't want to admit he pushed him too far? Did he actually view himself and Tommy to be Dream’s own twisted version of “friends”? It’s a possibility and it’s what this visit seems to imply.

“When I’m around you I feel like my brain is conditioned to be your friend, but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart... you don’t make me a good person!” This seems to be a rather recurrent theme with Tommy and the mentor figures in his life. Wilbur trying to convince him (albeit not managing to) to just blow it all up and give in to his aggressive nature. Techno wanting to “bring him to the side of evil” and making him more violent in the process. Now we have confirmation that Dream himself makes him lash out more (though we could see this already when he was in exile in how he lashed out at Jack Manifold without the latter having done anything to deserve it). There is also the confusion to point out. While Tommy is trying to move on he’s clearly in no way “healed”, he’s still very much suffering from the consequences of Dream’s abuse and manipulation. He still doesn’t know exactly how to feel about him because, despite everything, he feels compelled not to hate him entirely.

“You’re a bad guy” “Well I did bad things, but everyone thinks they’re right from their perspective” “That’s not true” I haven’t seen almost anyone talk about this exchange, but it’s such an important one! As we said, Tommy views Dream as a villain, Dream doesn’t (he admits to having done bad things, but not to being bad because of them). Dream also sees Tommy as a hero, but Tommy doesn’t (Tommy doesn’t even view himself as “the good guy” in his own story, which ties in to his big self worth problems). It’s an interesting dynamic to be sure.

“Well I think I’m right. I did bad things, but I did them for good reasons” “What good reasons?” “I wanted to bring the server together you know? Make it a big happy family” This is the second time Dream brings up unity as his ultimate goal (the first being with Punz). Of course we know that the “unity” he wants it’s under his complete control. It’s not an objective that we can see as positive, but he does, or, at least, if he’s telling the truth about it, he may actually believe in it. Now, while this is the second time he brought up “unity” directly he did also strongly imply in the season 2 finale that that was his intention when explaining he was doing everything to get the server to “how it used to be”, back in the idealized past with no conflicts that never existed. Dream is deluded in the literal sense of the word, I would say it’s pretty probable there is at least some truth in his declared objective (truth in the form of him actually believing the bs he spews).

At this point Tommy is done. He’s drawing an end to the visit and Dream started getting more frantic. He started insisting on how he’s “changing” and insisting for Tommy to go visit him again. Ngl, I think this was probably to buy time for his accomplice (who is very possibly enderwalk!Ranboo) to get there. Because, if he let Tommy go, their game would truly be over, and Dream can’t stand that.

And cue the explosions!

So: Dream managed to buy enough time and, by the prison's protocols, Tommy is now stuck with him up to 7 days. He can’t leave which means Dream gets another chance to force him into continuing their game.

Quite a few people pointed it out, but, from this point onwards, Dream gets much more assertive and controlling in his demeanor. He drops the whole “insecure” act that he had going on in his enunciation and general behaviour and goes back to being like the old Dream (you would almost think that all that talk about “having changed” was just absolute bs, though he keeps insisting on it throughout)

Tommy’s behaviour also changes. He gets much more paniked (no doubt a combination of way too many of his triggers being present at once) and pliant. He starts calling out for Sam and asking to be let out but, of course, that doesn’t happen as Sam has to take care of the security breach first and foremost.

Dream starts immediately harping on Tommy being stuck there (probably to increase his panic, as he's easier to influence when he's distressed), first pointing out how “Sam can’t hear him” and then that the tnt must indicate a “security problem” (which he then explains he knows the consequences of because he wrote the book). By now he’s dropped his meek act entirely and he’s showing to be much more smug and self assured (a big contrast with Tommy having a very obvious panic attack). As we already said: he got what he wanted, he basically won already. All he needs to do now is get Tommy back to how he used to be in exile (”when they had fun” in Dream’s words...).

At this point there is only one question left to be answered: Why did he do all of this? How does this benefits dream?

Clearly this didn’t help him to get out. The security may actually increase because of it. Right? Well...

“I mean... if you want a way to get out, let’s get out together! We can work it out, we can-” “Fuck off” “Then there is no way out” I’m going out on a limb here and saying that, perhaps, Dream may know a way to get out provided 2 people cooperate on it. Tommy wouldn’t help him yet, but, who knows what he may do after spending way too much time locked in a small room, with a lava fall on the side and Dream to top off the list of his worst nightmares...

“Are you trying to get out?” “I’m not trying to get out, I’m not trying to get out!” a bit of a contradiction here, considering he proposed getting out together like 2 minutes before (coupled with his insistence on “one day...”)... however “I’m not trying to get out (yet)” may be a way to interpret his words more truthfully. If he just needed an accomplice to get out, he would have probably used Ranboo, but there is something else he wants as well...

(btw, potatoes AGAIN multiple times, especially every time Tommy is particularly distressed, and Dream also brings up Tommy being on his last canon life again in the context of this being “just like exile”... man do be trying hard with those parallels...)

You see, he already told us that he still sees his objective as good. He still wants control. He still wants his game to go on. And there is one person he elected to be the key to everything...

“I’m telling you you’re stuck in here for a little while with me, were we can bond, we can talk, just like old times, right? You know... just like exile” “Tommy this is the best thing that’s happened to me since I got in this prison, because now we can be company, we can stay together!” “Fine, fine, you’re done with me in a couple days, when you get out of here” “Tommy it’s not that bad! We can- we have lot’s of time to bond” Ngl... something tells me his other objective is very obvious... and we talked about it to death by now. But, in case it wasn't clear to someone, he wants to get back what (or who in his case) he considers to be his most cherished possession (again, do NOT interpret this as a "good" thing. It isn't. Dream literally treats Tommy as his toy, it isn't healthy and I've seen way too many people in chat trying to imply otherwise and calling it "cute". It's not cute, it's abuse)

“Tommy you’re stuck in here with me wether you like it or not, ok?! Wether you like it or not you’re in here with me for a WHILE, we’re gonna talk, we’re gonna have lot’s of fun” I just wanted to point out again how much Dream’s demeanor changed from the start now that he’s back in control. He’s not asking Tommy to talk to him, he’s not giving him a choice in it. Tommy already said how he doesn’t wanna talk and “get to know him better”, but that doesn’t matter. He has no power anymore. He doesn’t have the power to leave NOR the power to ignore Dream, as much as he wants to. Also, after this, Dream seriously ramps up the whole “We’re gonna have so much fun!” shtick...

And you want to know the saddest part of the ending? Tommy is already cracking (honestly, not surprising. He’s been through WAY too much by now...)

He started asking Dream for confirmation of whether all of this was “serious” (just like he needed to ask if things were real back in exile... or generally Dream’s opinion on everything). He also asked for more potatoes in a dejected tone (I know it may not seem that serious, but, as I said, it is just another way to create the dependency that Dream wants), showing a beginning of acceptance for Dream’s role as provider once again. Together with the very obvious “I can’t do this” and the black screen right after it creates a very worrying picture.

In conclusion: Dream is already dependant on Tommy, but the opposite not being true was a big part of his downfall. So, before he can get out, he has to work on getting Tommy back to exile!Tommy only this time he’ll be even more careful not to do some dumb mistake probably...

As anxious as I am to see how this will develop I do also think it’s one of the most interesting outcomes they could have had!

Also can we please take a moment to appreciate how WELL cc!Dream anc cc!Tommy manage to handle this incredibly serious scenes? Like, they bounce off of each other perfectly and, as someone who’s done theater themselves, I cannot commend them for managing to do so well in IMPROV enough!

They are honestly so great! Let’s get some serious love and appreciation for them to close on a positive note!

Also @mysweatymakerstudentworld

#tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #tw suicide #tw abuse #tw manipulation #exile arc #dream smp #Dream smp spoilers #long post #my post #analysis #relationship analysis #this is the sequel to rapunzel where she's stuck on the tower with mother goethel #I can't imagine it ending well...

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obae-me · 3 years

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Maid!Brothers

Here you go folks, some maid brothers as a treat. I know these are also probably just what they did for the butler event but...maids. SFW for these ones, although with enough convincing, I might be pressed to make NSFW ones. Enjoy!

Congratulations! For better or for worse, and for the next few days, the demons that reside in the House of Lamentation are now your maids. Is this due to a curse? Another one of Diavolo’s somewhat sadistic schemes? A dare gone too far? Perhaps you’ve used your pact powers for good evil? Who knows at this point? And to be fair, who cares how it started when you have seven demons greet you at the door every morning?

Lucifer

He was very much not pleased at first. At all. But not for the reasons you’d expect. All of his time spent serving you completely is going to disrupt his enormous piles of work. However, Diavolo has given him a few days leave to...explore this new...career. Now that he’s in this situation with no way out for the foreseeable future, he has no choice but to be the best maid the likes of which you or the Devildom has never seen before. He must go the full mile for the sake of his pride. No one will be making fun of him once he perfectly fulfills his role, and just because he’s wearing a dress and an apron doesn’t mean he’s not still completely bone-chillingly intimidating. In fact, now that he has more free time and his eyes on you nearly everywhere you go, this new form of his is almost scarier.

He wears a traditional outfit; Victorian. One with the long unruffled skirt and sleeves. You hardly see him in white, so the stark pureness of his apron and headband are almost off-putting, but it grows on you quickly. The buttons on his collar and cuffs are a bright royal blue. He’s insistent on still wearing his gloves, which somehow only add more flair to his uniform. You never assumed he’d be caught wearing something like this, and yet he’s so confident in it, you could mistakenly assume he’s done this before.

His main chore is making sure the other maids (his brothers) are fulfilling their duties. He’s written up a beautiful schedule complete with shift changes and chore swaps so no one can complain too much. If he hadn’t done this, nothing would get finished, and all of his brothers would end up flocking to you instead. Of course, with him being in charge of this, no one can prevent him from making sure he gets to stick by your side more than the others by a considerable margin.

Everything he does is absolutely flawless. Your room has never been cleaner or more organized, although now you have a difficult time finding any of your things. Your pens are gathered up by...ink density? And your clothes by material? Now you’re resorted to ask for his assistance. He knows exactly what you like, and how you prefer it prepared. And once, you’d even begin to sneeze and he’d already prepared a handkerchief for you.

Of course...this new caretaking biz of his has unlocked a new side of him, or at least a side he’s never had the time or energy to show. He’s unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly, mind-numbingly...fussy. Constantly straightening your clothes, fixing your hair, asking you every five minutes if there’s anything he can do. You’re unsure if he feels you’re incapable of doing anything right by yourself, or if he just has such an overwhelming urge to take care of you that he can’t even let you put your own shoes on.

“Master, I can’t help but notice you’ve not completed your assignments for today. I’ve already prepared your desk, let me escort you to your room.”

“Master, I know Super Crunchy Devil-Sweet Cookies are your favorite, but they are not good for you. Here, I’ve already prepared a perfectly healthy snack. I know you’ll love it.”

“Master, it is five minutes till your bed-time. I am fully aware you are an adult...yes...nonetheless, I have your bed prepared and will not leave till you are safely in a slumber. I will tuck you in, you must get good sleep after all.”

“Master, let me make sure your bathwater is a safe temperature.”

“Master, let me cut your food for you.”

As the days dredge on, he gets more desperate. It’s been a while since you’ve done something on your own. Lucifer is almost always there. You enjoy it to a degree, but it’s a tad...how do we say...suffocating, knowing your every action is under his watchful gaze. At this moment in time, you’re still unaware if this is how he naturally is, or, without endless work to hold him back, if he’s spiraling out of control. Either way, as much as you appreciate him taking complete care of you, you’ll be happy when the old Lucifer is back.

However, as much as he pushes you, you enjoy the moments with him. You find more fondness for him with every soft brush of his gloves, with all the things he keeps hidden in his pockets only to brandish them whenever you need them.

At one point, you’d both been so drained from the day’s activities, you both went for a stroll in the garden to clear your heads. Yawning, you took a seat on the soft grass, your back leaned up against the trunk of a tree. As you listened to the wind rustle the leaves, Lucifer looked down at you with a small frown. Then, sighing, he joined you, tucking the fabric of his skirt against his legs as he sat. How long had it been since he had simply sat outside for some air? Too long. You both embraced the silence for a moment. No more chattering maids, no more assignments, just the sound of gentle breaths against the breeze. You tilted your head back, watching from the corner of your eye as Lucifer brushed a stray leaf off his apron.

“I’ve exhausted you,” he proclaimed in a soft voice.

You couldn’t quite tell him he hadn’t…”I’m just tired in general.”

He huffs, knowing he was right but not pushing you any further. “Here…” You feel his gloved hand cup the back of your head. The heart in your chest squeezes, but you allow him to guide your body in a lying position, head in his lap. You can’t find the breath to say anything, so you simply adjust into a comfortable position, bringing one of your hands close to your face to gently grasp the apron fabric.

You don’t remember falling asleep, so you don’t recall Lucifer’s arm wrapping around your waist, his sigh of relief when you get some rest, and his eventual slumber when he too lets the peace of your company lull him to sleep.

Maybe him being a maid wasn’t so terrible after all.

Mammon

He was also not happy. So unhappy in fact, he’d refused to have anything to do with this. How is he supposed to make money off this whole deal? Where’s the fun? The thrill? No, no, no, he was absolutely not going to participate. He expected some sort of begging or coercion, but actually each of his brothers were alright in knowing each of them would have more time with you with Mammon out of the way. Well, out of everything, he was not having that. Right after his outburst, he was all too happy to be onboard. He proclaimed he was going to be the best, the cutest, the most amazing maid ever. Naturally. So, all of his brothers might as well go home and leave it to him. The Great Mammon would take it from here. One, they were already home. Two, no, none of them were leaving. As a maid, he’ll most likely end up messing up a lot of things, but you’ve never seen him try harder in his life for something that wasn’t attached with a price tag. And that honestly made it worth it.

He wears a uniform with short sleeves and a mid-rise skirt that stops right at his knees. It sort of reminds you of a diner outfit more than a maid uniform, with two separate pockets sewn into the apron. The apron itself doesn’t go over the chest and around the neck, instead, it simply ties around the waist. The bow wrapped in his hair and his knee-high socks are a pleasing gold color, one that matches the sunglasses he still wears despite it not fitting the rest of his look.

His main chore is errand boy. He’s running from here and there to get you and his brothers what they need to carry out their chores. He’s always busy buying groceries, delivering things to your room, dropping off supplies for the other maids to use. Not only is he the fastest so this is more efficient, but it does a pretty good job of wearing him out at the end of the day.

He always has had the capacity to be cute, but somehow with this new occupation of his, he’s become increasingly adorable. And it’s during this time where you realize how much he cares and pays attention to you. He may be considered a terrible maid, but you appreciate his efforts and the gifts he bought for you, even if he had spent the money for food on it. And where Lucifer strives to keep you safe, Mammon strives to keep you entertained, even if it means going against his older brother’s carefully laid plans.

“Master! While I was out grocery shopping I saw your favorite snacks and snagged them for ya! If you eat them now, I’ll take the trash away so Lucifer never knows, eh?”

“Here is your dinner, Master. I’m sorry it’s so late, Satan was making it all wrong! Tch, What kind of maid forgets that you prefer it prepared soft and without any Super Spicy Devil’s Sauce? I had him remake the whole thing for ya.”

“Welcome home, Master! I’ve finished all my errands for today! So...can I...spend the rest of the day serving you personally?”

“Hey! Master! Lucifer is busy helping Asmo with the laundry, how about we sneak away? You deserve to have a little bit of fun, eh?”

“Master? Oi, Master?...I can’t sleep...can I get something for you? Anything?...No, I didn’t say nothin’, go back to bed.”

Despite the fact that he’s been working non-stop for a change, he’s not that different from the normal Mammon except...maybe not as tsundere. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the beam of joy in his face when he got to welcome you home. He’d make sure if you had another tasteless healthy dinner that there would be a steaming cup of ramen on your nightstand. He’d always keep a little gift in the confines of his apron pockets to give to you anytime he saw you. He’d no longer try to hide his affection, only now he’d excuse it away under the maid excuse. You’d miss it.

You’d especially miss the thrill of having him squirrel you away, the shared giggles between the two of you as Lucifer and his other brothers would run all throughout the house, all in a tizzy, looking for where you’d run off to. Mammon and you both were aware they’d find you in time, so you’d never take the moments for granted.

With one of those moments, he helped you up to the roof through the window. Absolutely dangerous? Probably, but he never once let you go. As he grasped your hand, helping you get steady footing amongst the shingles, the voice of frantic maids calling your title could be heard below. You lifted your head to look in Mammon’s eyes before the two of you started laughing.

“How long ya wanna bet?” The glint in his eyes shone brightly against the Devildom moon, the cheeky tug of his lips manifesting into a smirk.

“This time around?” A breathy scoff escaped your lungs, interrupted by the booming voice of Lucifer calling out Mammon’s name. You didn’t have long. “Ten minutes, tops.”

“Ten?” His eyebrows raised, and he gave a little tisk. “I say seven. If I win, I get to keep this little trinket in my pocket.” He pat his hand over the proclaimed pocket, your curiosity sparking. “If you win, I give it to you.” You both heard a door slam open, and so Mammon quickly grasped the sides of your shoulders to pull you both away from the edge. But it had been too late. Lucifer was on the roof before you two before you could even blink, dragging you both inside the house from the back of your collars.

You had figured Mammon won, since technically it was closest to his guess, however, later that night you found a strange little gift beside your bed. He’d won yet still given you his prize...

Levi

Secretly excited. A little embarrassed, but pleased about the fact that he basically gets to cosplay? Without anyone making fun of him? It’s a little dream of his, and he holds maids in high regard so he gets a short confidence boost. In fact, for the first time in a while, his brothers look to him for advice. He knows all about maids after all, so he knows how to act, what to do, and what to say. No longer is anyone teasing him for being knowledgeable about this topic. As a maid, his Moe points went up by 35, his Dandere points went up by 10, but your overall love for him goes up drastically.

You know he has to wear the most kawaii maid uniform you’ve ever seen. It goes mid-thigh, the skirt poofy from multiple ruffled layers. There’s an orange bow across the chest, some lining the skirt, and one large one in the back. It’s very Lolita, little lacy details scattered everywhere, even his headband. The only thing keeping his legs from being bare are the thigh-high stockings pulled over his feet. He was very embarrassed at first. He stayed in his room for who knows how long until he was sure everyone else was dressed up too. They tried teasing him, but the stars in your eyes and the exclamation of how cute he looked forced everyone else’s mouth shut. Now his siblings are the envious ones.

Levi doesn’t really have one main chore, but his focus naturally centered around anything water related. Watering the several plants in the house, washing dishes, scrubbing tubs, mopping the floors etc. He takes on more than anyone expected him to, but he doesn’t mind having a longer list. Not only is it simply a maid’s duty which he’s proud to uphold, but he sees them as objectives. Plus he doesn’t mind keeping busy, he’d go crazy without something to do.

Surprisingly enough, Levi is almost neck and neck with Lucifer as best Maid. He gets things done quickly and efficiently. Levi’s determination has helped the House of Lamentation stay squeaky clean, and his shy stuttery nature somehow enhances this role of his. If it’s his unhinged personality or simply an act, you’ll never know. He can hardly look you in the eye, keeping his head bowed, and whether it goes against Lucifer’s wishes or not, he’s all too ready to help get you whatever you desire, as a good maid should.

“W-welcome home, Master. No, please don’t step there! The...the floor is still wet, please forgive me. H-here, let me help guide you to the stairs.”

“Let--let me pull your chair out for you, Master. There we go...is that good? Did--did I do okay?”

“I can’t believe Lucifer denied you what you wished for?! That’s not what a maid is supposed to do! They’re supposed to do everything! They should do what their master asks with a grin and a bow! I can be ten times the maid he is!...So...tell me what it is you want, Master, and I--I will do everything I can to fulfill it for you…”

“I-I know I’m not as good as the other maids, but please, Master, let me do something for you!”

Nothing makes him happier than seeing the smile on your face when he does something right. Only, he makes you a little worried. He’s been pushing himself really hard for this. Suddenly changing his lifestyle all at once must be difficult for him. How has he not gone crazy without playing any of his games?

So you indulge him when you have the chance, ordering him to play a game with you or recommend a new show. Then the excited Levi comes back into view, some of the stress melting away as he describes the shows he knows you will love the best. You do like Maid Levi, but you miss his little rants about broken plot, his cries over character death. The otaku that you’d come to know he had hidden himself away these last few days. You’d be happy for him when it was all over.

Until then, you’d let him take care of you. Even if you didn’t need or want anything, you’d go send him off to do something, watching him swell with happiness. Whenever he’d return, you’d make him bow, taking the time to rub his head and assure him he was doing a swell job.

“Why don’t you get some rest, Levi? You’ve done a lot for me today.”

“I can’t!--I mean, I’m alright, Master. It’s my duty to always be attentive!” He attempted a little curtsey, but you could notice his legs slightly tremble.

“Levi…” Once again, you brushed your hand over the top of his head, a finger curling around one of his strands. “You’ve done the most out of everyone here, and even Lucifer is exhausted. I order you to get some rest.”

“But--”

“You would deny a direct order from your Master?” You raised an eyebrow, but kept the soft smile against your lips. He stiffened, but then slowly shook his head. “Good. While you’re at it, I order you to eat a good meal, take a shower, and get at least 8 hours of sleep, understood?”

All he could do was stammer, shifting the weight of his body from one foot to the other. How long had it been since he’d taken decent care of himself? Much too long, probably. You’d felt strange at first dishing out orders left and right, but you didn’t hesitate with these, holding your ground until Levi lowered his head and obeyed.

At least you still had a few more days left with this power. Maybe you’d make him say something nice about himself tomorrow.

Satan

His annoyance was outweighed by the intriguing curiosity. He’d read about maids in some of his history books, but never had the opportunity to see one much less become one. So, he decided to give it a shot as a learning experience. After all, it was only for a few days, and unlike some of his brothers, he could handle nearly anything for a few days. Besides, he saw this as another opportunity to annoy Lucifer at any turn as well as one-up him by being the better servant.

He wears a cat maid outfit, he really didn’t see another option. The fake cat ears atop his head match his hair color perfectly, as well as the fake tail tied around his waist, sticking out of the skirt. There’s a small kitty shaped hole in the middle of his chest and a green paw print pattern in the corner of his apron. A shiny golden bell attached to a green ribbon adorns his neck. He wasn’t embarrassed putting it on, but once he saw the look on your face when you first caught the sight of him, for once he nearly hid away. He could hardly breathe once you started playing with the bell strapped to his throat.

His main chore is cooking. He knows his way around the kitchen well enough and always knows the proper cookbook if he needs to look up something new. Plus, he always tries to go the extra mile, adding little designs to the food he makes for you. Of course, they’re all cat themed. Not only does he find this a great creative outlet, but he relishes the look of excitement on your face when he lifts the lid to the tray. He loves it even more when you upset Lucifer by setting aside your work for him.

His rather bold and assertive nature slowly melted away with time as a maid. Shy Satan is a rare character indeed, and it has you wondering if this is some sort of act he’s putting on for your amusement. He has been secretly taking lessons from Levi after all. Wherever this new side of him came from, you did your best to enjoy it while you could.

“Here is your lunch, Master...I...do you really want me to say it?...Ahem, I--I’m sure you’ll find it cooked to purr-fection…”

“You called for me, Master? Really? You--I--fine...Nya~...can...I go back to work now?”

“I’m not one to question you, Master, but...Is petting my head while I read to you truly necessary?...Alright then...Just don’t tell anyone else about it, please.”

“Master, do you know anything about the strange red light that’s been distracting me from my duties? You know nothing, huh? Hmm…”

“Meow-ster, Paw-lease, I beg of you, no more cat puns.”

Out of everyone so far, you’ll be the most upset when Satan goes back to his normal lifestyle. He would always be off, doing whatever he wanted, requesting your presence at the strangest and almost most inconvenient of times. As a maid, you always knew where he was, and now he would receive affection on your terms, not his. Although, you can tell it’s driving him a little stir crazy, his head snapping to around with the slightest of noises.

So, you thought leaving him to his own devices for a day and not teasing him would be good for him. So, that day, when he brought you breakfast, you thanked him and nodded, beaming at the whiskers on your pancakes, but then sent him away. He curiously tilted his head, but left you in peace. Lunch came, and you did the same, but this time he frowned. You even went as far as to tell him not to worry about dinner, thinking he needed more of a break, but that’s when he spoke his feelings.

“Have I upset you in some way today, Master?” He turned his head slightly away from you, but kept your gaze.

“Of course not, I just thought you deserved a break from my joking today. I’m sure it’s not fun, being stuck inside most of the day, having me as your master.” You gave him a grin of assurance, but he only seemed more upset.

“Do you think I would put as much effort into my service as I do if I didn’t think you were a worthy Master?” He took a small step towards you. “I’m here because I want to be here, so don’t push me away.” He brushed his forehead against your shoulder, blushing but smiling brightly as you rubbed the top of his head.

He could stay like this for a while longer, you didn’t mind.

Asmo

Possibly the most excited of the bunch. Typically, he’s never a fan to take care of someone other than himself, but he did count you as an exception. He would look absolutely adorable for the next few days? And so would his brothers?! It had taken centuries of pointless begging to try to get them to dress up, but they never did, but somehow you always managed what he could not. He was a little clueless at first on how to take care of someone else, but then he figured he would treat you like he did himself, which resulted in the most caring and loving Asmo you’d seen so far.

Did he already have an outfit in mind? Most definitely. Honestly, he attempted to wear nothing but an apron, but that plan was quickly quashed by his siblings. However, he still found a way to rock the maid outfit in his own way. It was a French style uniform, the top squeezing him like a corset. The skirt was so short, it just reached the top of his thighs. Instead of socks, he opted for fishnet tights and a pair of high heel shoes. How he would get anything done in that, you would never know, but he managed despite all odds.

His main chore consisted of mostly laundry. Washing all the sheets, clothes, and curtains in the house, which would take up a surprising amount of his time. He’d make your bed and fold your clothes, preparing an amazing outfit for you to wear the next day. Other than that, he always made sure you and everything else around him looked amazing.

Not much changed at first, he seemed like normal Asmo, complimenting his looks, standing in strange poses as he went about his daily chores. Then, slowly, he talked about you more, paying more and more attention to you till the unthinkable happened, he neglected himself to make sure you were taken care of.

“Oh, Master! Look at what I’m doing! Wouldn’t you say I’m absolutely ravishing as a maid?”

“Master! I picked out an adorable outfit for you to wear tomorrow, it’ll almost be like we’re matching!”

“Master, please, I know Lucifer said this needs to be done, but look at your eyes. Come with me, we must treat you at once.”

“I’m not sure, Master, I think in this case, Lucifer is right. A healthy Master is a beautiful Master! Although, I think you’re breathtaking already. I couldn’t serve just anyone you know!”

“Shut up, Mammon, I don’t care what my hair looks like right now! Where did the Master run off to?! It’s been hours since they drank any water! Their lack of self care is going to be the death of me…”

Asmo ends up being another one for team health. He does your skin care in the morning and at night before you go to bed. Somehow, he always knows when you run out of water, right by your side to refill your cup/bottle before going back to his chores. Asmo makes a great maid, and you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t be sad to see him go back to normal.

Somehow, he had the magical potential to make coming out of your comfort zone as comfortable as could be. Would he still do the same when this was over? Well, you guessed you had to enjoy it in the moment while it lasted, while he could put you on a pedestal without shoving other people beneath it.

“Which one for tomorrow, Master?” He held up two articles of clothing, both of which were way different than you would normally think to wear.

You frowned, rubbing the fabric of one of the options between your fingers. “For me? I don’t think either of those...work with me. Is there something else?”

“Not work with you? Oh but, Master, anything can work for you. For example, This one,” He took the top and held it against your chest as he gestured to the mirror, “makes your eyes look amazing. And this one makes anyone look amazing, trust me.”

You took a deep breath in, after all, you’d only really be wearing it at home. “Okay, um...this one. Let’s be bold.” He squealed, setting the right outfit aside for the next day, mumbling something to himself about the most beautiful master in the Devildom...whatever that meant.

He always found a way to make you shine, and being a maid didn’t change that.

Beel

He was rather indifferent to the predicament. Everyone was fine? No injuries or foreboding death? He could still eat? No problem there then. It would disrupt his workout schedule more than he preferred, but he found creative ways to use his chores like an at-home gym session. Plus, any excuse to get to hang around you more or do something for you is something he can get behind. Unlike his other brothers, he’s not seeing this as a competition. He’s going to do what he can to the best and fullest of his abilities, just like he always does. For this reason, he’s always been a sort of foundation to depend on, and you’re glad his new position won’t change anything with him.

His uniform...was an issue at first. Either his sleeves and shoulders would rip or the buttons would pop off the chest, so it took a while until something could be form fitting but remain intact. It had gotten to the point where they opted out of sleeves altogether, they were just such a hassle. But other than that, Beel is surprisingly comfortable in a skirt. There’s no issues with the fabric needing to stretch and bend around his thighs. He could do squats for days without any tears! He does find it hard not to eat the red bows and ribbons on his outfit...they just look like pasta in the right lighting.

Like Levi, he has a lot of scattered cleaning to keep him busy. He mows the lawn, wipes down every window, and handles the vacuuming. It's a sight to behold watching him work. At one point, he got so focused, he picked up an entire couch with just one arm as he cleaned underneath. Do you slyly hide things under couches now to have him get it? That’s a secret only you know the answer to.

He’s very good with his tasks, but he struggles with, as Levi calls it, “Moe”. He does his best, and while he might not get the highest points in this category, just him trying is absolutely enough. He desperately wants to succeed, even if being cute is entirely new to him.

“Here, Master, I found this flower while I was working in the garden...do you want it?”

“Master, I...Satan has banned me from the kitchen...do you have any snacks left? I promise I’ll make up for it.”

“Master, please! Do not come in here while I am cleaning! What if something hurts you? Here, let me escort you to safety.”

“No….I won’t accept your dinner...you--you have to eat, Master. I know it’s not your favorite, but it’s good for you.”

“Hey! Where are you trying to go while no one’s looking? It’s not safe going alone, so I will come with you. Wherever you go, Master, I will be there with you…”

He and Lucifer make a great overprotective gang. Beel hardly ever goes against his older brother’s wishes, and in this case, he agrees that your health and safety come above all else. And only now is he worried about every little corner of the house. Boxes? Dangerous. Hot food? Dangerous. How could he live with himself if you burnt your mouth? But not to worry, he is there to make sure you are completely safe.

On one hand, you thoroughly appreciate his consideration, but on the other, you almost miss independence. Although, everything Beel does is with a little smile and those puppy-dog eyes you never have the strength to shoo away.

And actually, his concern did come in handy on a few occasions. There was the time where the cleaning chemicals ended up being dangerous for humans, the time a stack of boxes nearly fell on top of you, but the one you remember most, the time the lawn mower snagged on a pebble and shot it out. With incredible speed, he had tackled you to the ground. You were about to question him until the sound of breaking glass could be heard behind you.

“That was far too close,” Beel sighed, still covering you with his body.

His weight of pure muscle started to weigh heavy on your lungs. “B-Beel…” He quickly got up, helping you to your feet. He straightened the new wrinkles in your clothes, frowning as he cupped your face, squishing your cheeks as he checked you over for wounds. “Beel..I’m okay.”

He let you go as you grabbed his wrists, his brows furrowed deep in worry. “See, Master, I told you it’s dangerous. We should go right to your room.”

“You also said the same thing about my soup, Beel…but...thank you...you always know right when to get me out of trouble.”

With that, he widely beamed. “Of course, Master. That’s my main goal. I will do anything to make sure you are safe...”

Of course, none of that changes whether Beel is a maid or not. Protection is what he does best, that and eating. Although, as a maid, you never have to worry about him stealing your food...so you at least for a bit longer, your snacks are safe.

Belphie

He wasn’t the biggest of fans about the notion of being a maid. It just...sounded like so much work. Endless amounts of chores and menial labor? No thank you. Other than picking up after himself and the occasional chore rotation, cleaning for him was saved for mostly punishments passed out by Lucifer. So, being a maid sounded like torture. However, three things finally convinced him to come around to the idea. One, he always enjoyed ruffling Lucifer’s feathers whenever he could, and this had a lot of potential. Two, Beel was going along with it, and usually he followed his twin wherever he went. And three, you told him it was fine that he didn’t want to do it, which suddenly persuaded him to go along. He never said that he didn’t want to, but now that you mentioned it, he was going to do the opposite.

His uniform is extra poofy and soft. The sleeves are round, the skirt almost sticks out more than Levi’s, and his legs are covered in fleece-lined leggings. His apron and headband are covered in a cow print pattern, and a purple choker necklace decorates his neck. You attempted to coax his tail free to tie a small cowbell around the end of it, but he didn’t entertain the idea. Too noisy.

He’s mostly assigned to dust and straighten cushions and pillows. However, the idea was a bit flawed seeing as how he’d usually end up falling asleep on aforementioned pillows, only to have to have them be messed up right after he fixed them. Although, to be perfectly honest, he’d end up falling asleep no matter what chore he’d been assigned. Just seeing him work though is a feat in itself.

Belphie as a maid hardly changes a thing personality wise, he still tries to pry you away from your responsibilities, tempting you to join him in his slothful ways. So, alongside Mammon and Levi, he focuses on making you happy first and foremost, only, he hopes your wishes coincide along his own.

“Hey, Master, you look tired, how about you come take a nap? I did just fluff up your pillows for you, don’t they look cozy?”

“What does it matter what Lucifer suggested? You’re the Master, do whatever you want. He won’t be able to stop you.”

“I...zzz...no don’t eat that...Beel...Huh!? No I wasn’t sleeping, Master, I was just testing this cushion’s comfort levels. It passes.”

“Okay, I usually say it as a joke, but you’ve been up way too late, Master. Here, it’s a nice cup of hot chocolate I made for you, it should make you sleepy. Once you’re done, we’re going straight to sleep. Yes, I said we.”

He might not have changed all too much, but he does seem a bit happier, not as nonchalant about everything, plus he does get an absolute kick out of seeing Lucifer work alongside his siblings like everyone else. Although, the nighttime is when he thrives. While everyone else is asleep, he makes nightly rounds, ensuring everyone gets good rest, even Lucifer as much as Belphie acts like he can’t stand him.

During the night, if you can’t sleep or end up waking during odd hours, he enjoys being the only maid around. He can have you to himself, and it’s hard to deny a Master who looks as cute as you do when you’re sleepy.

“Another restless night?” He snuck into your room without a sound. He always seemed to know when you were awake.

“Yeah...just my brain won’t shut up I guess.” You groaned, your body trying to remind you that you were exhausted, your muscles aching as you moved.

“That won’t do at all. As much as I would enjoy you being up with me, my Master needs good rest.” He shook his head, and held out a single finger as he told you to wait before speeding away. When he returned, he threw a few more pillows onto your bed and unfurled a different blanket. Albeit a little forcefully, he shoved you back down onto the bed, pulling the new blanket over your shoulders. It surrounded you with fuzzy warmth, your eyes already heavy. The pillows smelled like sugar and lavender. “A little bit of help from Asmo and a nice dryer.” He settled down on his knees near your bedside, telling you stories about the stars until you fell into a restful sleep.

He might not be the best at his tasks, but he always served you in his own little ways.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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sunfleurry · 3 years

Text

Hold Me

Click here for part 1

Part 2 of Fires and Flames.

Disclaimer: I write stories and use Harry Styles as a face claim. In no way shape or form does my writing reflect how I perceive the actual Harry to be. These are my characters, the face is just a bonus!

“Have a nice evening!”

“You too!” I yelled back before clocking out of my shift and making my way out the door.

It was dark outside, the king of night that begged to be breathed in and admired. Normally after a nine-hour shift, I would be exhausted and more than ready to go home. For some reason tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to turn in just yet. It was summertime and I loved the city lights when it was dark out. I eyed my car parked on the curb and ignored it, opting to go for a walk along the pier not too far from MediBrooke Pharmacy where I worked.

A year ago, I was at a low point in my life. I tried not to think about it too often, but every now and then, I would compare my life now to then and it reminded me to be proud of myself. I got through it, didn’t let it affect my grades, and now I was set to graduate with my PharmD degree in less than twelve months.

There weren’t too many people around as I made my way to the boardwalk, the clicking of my heels on the wooden path echoing in the quiet night. I checked the time on my phone. 20:30.

The pier was big. It was more intimidating during the wintertime when the water was turbulent, but today, it was still as a predator.

There was a man at the end of the pier, right across my destination but I did not pay him any mind. He was leaning against the railing, head hung low as he stared into the dark waters.

I was almost at my destination–a spot on the pier right under a lamppost with a built-in heater. I had left my jacket at home. At the sound of my approaching, the man across from me looked over, and my steps faltered as I beheld his face.

“Shit,” I mumbled when my phone slipped out of my hand.

Trying desperately not to look at the man, I held the strap of my purse against my shoulder and bent over to pick up my cell.

“I got it,” his deep voice said.

I hadn’t heard him approach, but I watched as he crouched down and wrapped his fingers around the device before standing back up and holding it out for me.

Harry looked different. His hair was longer and he seemed bigger–broader. I could tell he spent a decent amount at the gym since the last time I saw him over a year ago.

I jumped at the sound of my name coming out of his mouth, and seemed to remember he was still holding my phone.

I grabbed it, carefully avoiding touching his skin. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

He watched me and I watched him–both at a loss for words. I never expected to see him after our breakup. I applied to transfer to a pharmacy school away from the city, yet there he was, at my favourite spot in town, looking at me like he was seeing a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” I asked finally, almost breathlessly.

He blinked and looked over my shoulder at the water behind me. “My nan lived here. She passed away last week.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Harry glanced back down at me with heavy eyes. Grief. “Thank you.”

A lump formed in my throat as I felt his pain like it was mine. I wasn’t sure if he even had any family left. He never gave me details when we were together.

With him standing there in front of me, I felt an internal dam break, and memories and emotions started flooding to the forefront of my mind. Pain, happiness, heartbreak, love… It was all rushing back to me.

“How are you?” The words came out of his mouth with care but also with wariness.

“Fine.” Five minutes ago, I wanted to add. Because I wasn’t fine anymore, not with the source of my heartbreak suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

He nodded.

“You?” I wanted to slap myself. His grandmother just died; of course he wasn’t doing well.

He saw the look on my face and smiled reassuringly. “Habit.”

I smiled gratefully at his understanding.

Harry suddenly grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards him. I didn’t get a chance to react as my body fell into him before a group of teenagers ran by us right where I was standing. Had he not reacted, they would’ve toppled me over.

“Sorry!” One of them yelled half-heartedly over his shoulder.

I breathed heavily as I watched their bodies get smaller and smaller the further they ran away.

I didn’t realize how comfortable I was engulfed in Harry’s scent with my cheek pressed against his chest before he started pulling away, releasing my elbow.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

He rolled his lips inward and rubbed the back of his neck. “You look good. Very professional.”

I looked down at my pleated pants and button-down shirt and offered him a small thanks. “I work at the pharmacy down the street,” I explained.

He smiled. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen on him since we ran into each other. “I always knew you would succeed in what you do. You’re still studying?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to mimic his smile, but I was too busy trying not to cry in front of him. “One year left.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he said. I knew he meant it.

I bit my lip. “I know you are.” He always used to tell me how proud he was of me. Despite the way he treated me, the way I let him treat me, I knew deep down that he cared for me. He just didn’t know how to show it.

His smile fell as the memories of us came back to him. I was positive he was thinking about all those times he cooked us meals or did the dishes while I stressed over my notes, preparing for my exams. He was always supportive of my career choice and did his best to make me comfortable while I doubted myself and my capabilities of succeeding in my program.

“Look, can we just—“

“Harry?”

I whirled toward the foreign voice to see a woman whose beauty rivals any Hollywood actress approach us with a relieved smile.

“Harry,” she said again while wrapping her arms around his waist. I watched as he wrapped his own around her shoulders and held her at his side. “I was looking everywhere for you,” she scolded. “I convinced myself you fell in the water.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, I got caught up.”

It was then that the woman looked at me, as if just noticing my presence. Her blue eyes were so bright they were mesmerizing even in the minimal light offered by the pier in the darkness of the night.

She held out her hand, displaying short manicured nails. “Hi! I’m Christina.” She held up her other hand that was clutching car keys. “His chauffeur, apparently.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.” Then he addressed me. “Christina and I met around nine months ago. She wouldn’t leave me alone since.”

“You would be lost without me,” she scoffed.

Harry only looked at her with fake annoyance for a few seconds before nudging her playfully. “Yeah, you’re right.”

She laughed.

I watched the interaction between the two with more care than I would’ve wanted to admit. A part of me felt hot jealousy start boiling from the pit of my stomach, another part of me was over the moon seeing a smile on Harry’s face that didn’t seem forced.

My eyes flicked to Christina’s hand that was clutching his forearm. I used to do the same when I caught a girl staring at him–I would touch him to silently warn her he was mine. Was that what Christina was doing at the moment?

I couldn’t suppress frowning as I forced my eyes to look away.

“We’re going to be late,” I heard her whisper.

Harry cleared his throat and said my name.

I didn’t want to look at him. I wanted to hide the tears that had already formed in my eyes that I knew must be already as red as my cheeks.

He touched my shoulder as a second attempt to get my attention.

I finally blinked up at him.

He inhaled. I shook my head with as much subtleness to make it noticeable to him only. He seemed to understand.

“Christina and I need to go.” He said, sympathy coating his voice.

I cleared my throat. “Okay. It was nice seeing you, Harry.”

He took a step toward me then seemed to stop himself. Were you going to hug me Harry? Kiss me? Why did you stop?

My eyes flickered to Christina who was texting someone on her phone with one hand, the other still clutching Harry’s forearm.

“I’ll see you around,” he said. It almost sounded like a question so I nodded.

I stood under the heating lamp post and watched the pair walk away.

_______________

“Just one shot, come on!”

My friends cheered when I finally gave in and took the shot glass from Jeremy.

I laughed at their antics before throwing my head back and welcoming the burn in my throat.

“To our final semester!” Someone yelled. We all cheered.

I made a nice friend group in my new university. I met Jeremy first when we were assigned to work together for one of my courses, and he introduced me to his friends who turned out to be great people. Today, we wrote our last final exam of the semester. We all agreed to go out and treat ourselves to a more expensive club for some celebratory drinks before the winter break separated us.

A popular song started playing and suddenly the bar blew up in cheers and synchronized singing. People rushed to the dance floor like a herd of elephants. I watched them stumble over each other, trying to find their friends to enjoy the song when a hand cut into my view.

I glanced up to find Jeremy’s brown eyes on me waiting for me to put my hand in his. When I did, he pulled me off the stool and I swiped my purse off the counter as he dragged me towards the crowd of moving bodies.

Being in the crowd made me realize it wasn’t as dense as it seemed from our table. Jeremy wrapped an arm around my waist and held my hand up to the side as he encouraged me to move to the beat with him while keeping a respectful distance between our bodies. That last detail didn’t go unnoticed by me. I appreciated it.

The song ended but another played, and the crowd screamed to the loved and familiar beat. Even I couldn’t help but sway my hips and mouth the lyrics as Jeremy lifted our joined hands and twirled me. I squealed at the motion and slammed into his chest clumsily, the both of us giggling before we continued dancing with everyone.

We stayed on the dance floor for two more songs before I told him I needed some water. He nodded and walked behind me as we started making our way to our table when I heard him ask, “What’s up, man?”

Frowning, I turned around and found him speaking to someone whose hand was on his shoulder.

I risked a glance at who caught his attention and my heart stuttered when I recognized Harry. As if feeling my gaze on him, Harry’s eyes landed on me and mind fogged up. I didn’t know what to think as I took in his soft wavy hair and green jumper that made his eye colour brighter than it actually was. I could hear him ask Jeremy if he could steal me for a second, eyes never leaving mine.

Jeremy looked hesitant at him, unsure who Harry was but then turned towards me, passing the decision on to me.

I nodded and Jeremy’s bent his head to be at eye level with me. “If you need anything…”

I offered him a smile. “I know him.”

He seemed to relax and smiled back before making his way towards our table where the rest of our friends were watching the exchange.

I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was left alone with Harry. My breath hitched when I chanced a glance at him and realized he was already staring at me.

“Harry,” I said quietly, enough that he could hear me over the music.

“Can we talk somewhere more quiet?”

He seemed to have noticed my hesitation. He took a step forward. “You can tell your date if it makes you more comfortable.”

I frowned. “More comfortable? You think I’m scared of you?”

Harry bit his lip and looked away.

I touched his arm. “I would never…”

I felt his bicep lose tension under my fingers as he let out a breath, as if he was afraid I didn’t trust him with me alone. It broke my heart, if I was being honest.

I followed Harry to the entrance and he held the door open for me to walk outside. The air was cool, nothing I couldn’t handle under the summer night with my skirt and long sleeve blouse. The quiet of the night hit me like a brick as we stepped out of the crowded club into the silence of the almost empty street.

Harry led me to the nearest bus stop, silently asking me to sit on one of the wooden benches before joining me. I smoothed out my skirt, nervously playing with the seam.

He cleared his throat. “So… How have you been?”

I inhaled, and the scent of his cologne overwhelmed my nose. I welcomed it. “I’ve been good,” I said honestly. I was. I moved to a new place, made great friends, got the job I wanted and I was set to graduate soon.

Harry smiled, looking almost like he was relieved. “I’m glad.”

I played with a frayed end on my skirt. “You?”

“Same.”

I peered up at him, thread forgotten. His piercing eyes were already looking at me, wide and he started nodding.

“I mean it. I am good,” he smiled. “I’ve been getting help, I changed jobs, made friends.”

My heart swelled for him. I put my hand on his and squeezed. “I’m proud of you.”

He separated our hands and I suppressed my disappointment. “I just wanted to bring you out here to check up on you. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

I couldn’t deny that everything about the interaction was awkward. I could’ve asked Harry about what help he’d gotten, about his new job, his friends… But when we were together, over a year ago, I learned not to pry when it came to his personal life. I wasn’t sure if he still felt that way.

We were swallowed by an uncomfortable silence, neither one of us sure on how to approach any subject that came up in our minds. I started focusing on my breathing as I prepared myself to stand.

“I think I’m going to head back inside,” I said, eyes everywhere but him as I picked up my purse and smoothed down my skirt.

He relaxed into the bench. “Your date must be worried about you.”

I stopped. “Jeremy is not my date.”

Harry’s head snapped up. “I didn’t mean to assume…”

I huffed a laugh. “It’s okay, he’s just a friend from school. I’m here with a group of them.”

I could tell he was recalling the people at the table Jeremy headed to before we went outside. “They seem nice.”

“They are,” I smiled. I decided to take the bait. “What about yours? Do I know them?”

He shook his head. “Just Christina. I, um, I met her in therapy.”

I had to swallow down the rising jealousy at the mention of her name.

“She was kind enough to wait with me even after her appointment was over,” he continued. “I was rude and cruel towards her, at first. I think I was trying to chase her away. I didn’t want anyone’s pity, but she stuck like a bucket of glue.”

I chuckled. “It’s hard to stay away from you,” I admitted.

His face fell. “I felt like I didn’t deserve anyone’s attention, not after what I did to you.”

It was like a bucket of water was dumped onto my head, my expression immediately morphing into one of sadness.

“Christina became a big part of my healing. Sometimes I felt like I didn’t deserve her help because I’m a grown man. I don’t need someone holding my hand along the way, but she was there. And I’m grateful for it.”

Hearing him talk about another woman like that had my feelings in a puddle. I wanted to be happy that he found someone who he could relate to and guide him through his pain and his past but I couldn’t quash the betrayal for the simple fact that he refused my help but accepted that of a stranger’s. I didn’t say anything though. No, I would never even think of interrupting him. I watched him with wide eyes as he explained everything because this was the first time my Harry had ever spoken this much about himself so freely. It made me want to cry.

“She was also dealing with some things of her own. For some reason, she still wanted to stay by my side and I kept her around. For selfish reasons, she reminded me a lot of you.”

I stiffened at the confession. He studied my reaction but I tried to pretend like it didn’t affect me. I knew I failed when my voice came out shaky and disbelieving. “Why?”

“I don’t know… She was stubborn, always forcing me to do what’s right for me even though I fought it. She checked up on me all the time, and she just…” He held my stare. “She cared.”

My eyes started watering and my anger was slowly rising. “And why, Harry, if she was so much like me, did you not think of me and all that I did for you, instead of finding someone who was just like me?”

His shoulders slouched and I watched as he fiddled with the pendant against his collarbone. “Because I didn’t deserve you,” he said pointedly. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to mother me. I was holding you back from being happy all because I refused to take care of myself.”

The tightness in my chest worsened. “You don’t get to decide what’s right for me.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “You’re the one who left.”

I gasped. “You’re really going with that argument?!”

He sighed and slumped back against the wooden bench. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you let me leave to instead be with another woman who reminds you of me?” I rolled my eyes.

Harry rubbed his chin as he regarded me with lines forming between his eyebrows. “Be with… Are we still talking about Christina?”

I wanted to scoff with disbelief. “Are we having the same conversation?”

“You think I’m with Christina? As in…she’s my girlfriend?”

I felt my jaw slacken. “Are you not?”

It was then that Harry threw his head back, laughter escaping from his mouth. I watched him with my widening eyes as I replayed our conversation in my head to figure out what was so funny.

He said my name with laughter in his voice after a few seconds of trying to calm himself down. He cleared his throat and turned his body to face mine on the bench. I tried my hardest to ignore the hand he laid on my knee. “Christina is just a friend.”

I shook my head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Besides, I don’t think her girlfriend would appreciate her cheating with me, a man.”

“Girlfriend?”

Harry’s smile widened. “She’s gay.”

I was at a loss for words. “Oh.”

My stomach fluttered when Harry lifted his hands and held my face between his palms. “You think I would replace you?” He asked quietly.

I prayed he couldn’t hear my rapid heartbeat. “I—” I tried to communicate with my eyes that I didn’t want to answer that question. I didn’t know the answer to it. He’d been unpredictable throughout our relationship and I wasn’t sure if he had changed or not and I refused to believe it until I saw it.

Harry gave me a mirthless smile and let go of my face. I felt heat in the spots where his fingers touched my skin and I almost asked him to put them back. “I miss you,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes then, and the tears I tried holding back fell down my cheeks. I tried stopping them, but they started coming faster and I didn’t have the choice but to drop my head into my hands to silently cry. Many thoughts and emotions were flying through my mind and I couldn’t keep up with their overwhelming pace. I felt Harry’s arm wrap around my back and pull me to him until I was flush against his side.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice broke on the last syllable. I felt him kiss my hair and squeeze me harder as I cried harder. The past year, I pushed my emotions back. I suppressed any thoughts and feelings left behind by Harry and focused on work and school. I ignored all stimuli that reminded me of him. At this moment, I knew that it was a bad idea as the heartbreak flooded my senses and I couldn’t escape it no matter how much I tried. Harry never let go as he wrapped his other arm around me until I was pressed against his chest, the fabric of his jumper muffling my sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, holding me for the next few minutes until I finally stopped crying. I didn’t let go right away, I wasn’t ready to. I missed him immensely and didn’t have the willpower to separate from the familiar feeling of being so close to him, or the smell that is so distinctly Harry that it comforts me no matter where I am. After I controlled my breathing, I finally mustered up the courage to push off of him and face him.

“You didn’t bring me out here to just check up on me,” I said, not leaving room for the statement to sound remotely like a question.

Harry sighed. “No, I didn’t.”

I stared at him while holding my breath in anticipation. I knew what was coming before he even said it, but I still felt anxious.

He swallowed audibly and craned his neck to the sky as he gathered his words. “I want to try and win you back.”

Heat tingled in my heart and it spread like wildfire over my skin until I was covered in a mix of relief and desire. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I figured,” he nodded. “I don’t want you to make a decision right away.”

“I wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to,” I said honestly.

Harry’s head dipped to his chest and he started fiddling with his necklace again. He expected my answer, but still hoped I wouldn’t say it. “I understand. Which is why I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

“A date?”

He smiled. “I want you to get to know me–”

“But I already know you.”

“No,” he said. “I want you to meet the new me. I want you to give me another chance to prove to you that I am not the Harry you knew.”

The reminder of who he was reminded me of who I was with him. I was happy to be with him, I loved him. I still do, I realized, but the love I had for him overshadowed the anger and pain that our relationship carried for the year and a half we were together. He was full of self-loathing and that only took a toll on who we tried to be–who we used to be. There was Harry, in front of me, promising a second chance for the relationship we had sans the pain and I didn’t know if he was serious or not.

I looked at him with helplessness. “I don’t know…”

He rubbed his upper arm, a nervous tic I recognized a long time ago. “Please. Do you still love me?”

His piercing gaze was suddenly too intense for me and I looked down at my lap. “Why are you asking me that?” I stammered. The day I confessed my love for him was the day I left him. The memory only brought a squeezing sensation to my heart. Heat prickled in my eyes.

“I just need to know, if you still do. Because, I was too much of a coward to tell you,” he took my hands in his and held them up between our chests. “I love you too.”

I felt lightheaded as my mind processed the last four words he’d just uttered. A whimper escaped me before I threw a hand over my mouth.

“Don’t cry,” Harry whispered, bringing my hands to his mouth and pressing kisses to my knuckles. “Please.”

I expelled a shuddering breath. “I think it’s the shot I took an hour ago catching up to me.”

Harry laughed, only because he recognized my attempt to lighten the mood.

I stared at our joined hands as I tried to regain my breathing. My palms started sweating when I thought more and more about the two of us together, something I never imagined becoming a possibility ever again. I glanced at him to see nothing but genuine hope in his eyes.

Harry confessing his feelings to me was something so foreign, my body had no idea how to take it and create a reaction. It was unknown territory and I promised myself that I must tread lightly all the while keeping maximum defence surrounding my already fragile heart.

Knowing Harry, he would never lie about something like that, he had always been a straightforward man. He was against bullshitting and it was with that thought in mind that I finally stared back into his eyes and said:

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #one direction imagine

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yaku-soba · 3 years

Text

i’ve seen this film before (this is an old story)

༶•┈┈ oikawa tooru x gn!reader | angst

༶•┈┈ general m.list

tags/warnings: angst (with an okay ending), swear words, oikawa doesn’t become a pro, kinda college au, author was listening to the folklore album and also mother mother while writing this, i think that’s warning enough

word count: 1.48k

a/n: this was originally supposed to be some sort of prose poetry for my poetry sideblog but it didn’t work out so </3 also, trying out a somewhat new writing style hehe :3

“someone has to leave first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of this story.”

― richard siken, war of the foxes

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

it goes like this: you fight over something small (it's never just something small), and after a while with whom the fault lies doesn't matter anymore (a double-edged sword: the fighting and the screaming and the shouting and the mocking).

it goes like this: radio silence, no missed calls, no unopened texts. oikawa, a character study: lover becomes roommate becomes a shadow you see slipping out the door if you wake up early enough. take-out ordered for one, a bed too large and cold. blankets that swamp you.

it ends like this: you cave first (you always cave first). oikawa is too proud to apologize and you are too tired and it is easier to brush all the broken pieces of each other under the rug (it's old, you don't remember where it came from, only that it's the colour of mold and smells like mothballs, despite your best efforts) and pretend the we are fucked up, we are fucking this up away. you hate the way this story ends, there is no other ending to this story.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

"tooru," you say, and the click of the door as he shuts it behind him rings like a gunshot. "do you know what day it is?"

oikawa is breathtaking, as always. "no," he says, casting his eyes to the moldy rug at your feet and then away, off to the side, "what day is it?" oikawa is breathtaking, and as always, he's a bad liar.

you smile, make no effort to pull it to your eyes. "it's pasta day," you answer, and it's as hollow as the ring-pop he gave you as a promise when you were younger (when you had thought you were in love; when you were in love).

he nods. "thanks for cooking dinner." he chucks off his shoes and socks in an act of practiced nonchalance.

there is no pasta day.

"welcome home," you tell him belatedly. he hums, says nothing in return.

(stilted conversation: the second stage of a terminal relationship.)

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

once, you were young and in love.

it's been proven: youth and love makes one foolish.

the story, or the prologue - it goes like this: you meet oikawa at an impressionable age (the boy next door, the golden boy, the boy the coaches eye in a game, the boy all the girls talk about, the boy). he proceeds to make quite an impression on you (a burn from sparklers on a beach at a festival, a failed ollie that left a scar on your knee, bruised wrists from volleyball, the - invisible, but you know it’s there, just as oikawa knows - stitch over the exit wound in your chest). you grow up beside him and along the way, convince yourself that sticking with him is a natural progression (cherry blossoms bloom for only two weeks).

you and oikawa, him and you. it has always been the two of you. this story is very old, this story always ends the same way.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

you’re fucked up. you and oikawa, him and you - somewhere, along the way, you’d gotten fucked up. you don’t know who fucked it up first, it doesn’t matter anymore. (nothing matters but the brush of oikawa’s lips on your lips and the delicate flutter of his lashes and the rent that you cannot afford without a roommate).

oikawa is waiting on the couch when you come home (you came home later than usual - you’d seen him talking to a girl who had batted her lashes at him prettily the way he used to do to you). you shut the door behind you like a judge’s hammer, you slip out of your shoes and socks like water through earnest, cupped palms.

“late night?” he asks (no welcome home).

“yeah,” you reply (no i’m home). “i wanted to finish more of my project.”

oikawa hums, looks at you from beneath those damned lashes. “that essay?” he shifts, lifts his feet from the moldy-looking rug to sit cross-legged.

“yeah,” you say again. (you’d submitted the essay a month ago. you’re working on a presentation due in a week now).

“i ordered pizza,” oikawa says after a pause, “it should be arriving soon.”

you nod, step over the genkan and into the one-bedroom apartment. “thanks,” you tell him, “i’ll be right out.”

the bell rings while you’re changing into loungewear. you step out of the room just in time to see oikawa take the pizza out of the delivery girl’s hands - the same girl you’d seen touch his arm and smile (there is no home).

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

oikawa’s working part-time at a local diner that keeps long hours. you’re working on a degree.

here’s the thing: he could probably afford a one-bedroom apartment of his own if he’s smart about his money.

here’s the thing: you can’t.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

“someone has to leave first,” wakatoshi tells you over lunch, “richard siken said so.”

“who?” there’s a tear right down the middle of your carrot-heart.

“someone who left first, or someone who was left. does it really matter?”

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

here’s the point: oikawa with his long lashes and bedhead. oikawa’s sleepy smile in the mornings (you remember more than you know), the exact dip of his smile, the map you have of the lines of his palms.

the point is: oikawa staying out and not coming home (you stopped counting after the first month, but your heart still knows), waking up to a cold bed because oikawa started leaving earlier (to go the gym, he says). hesitancy in hands where there once was security, the subtle fall of a satellite out of orbit, the gradual fall out of the childhood familiarity of being young and in love. the point is -

the point is always oikawa.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

oikawa gets a new, better, actual job. he’s a volleyball coach at a high school, now.

you find out almost a month later, through takahiro and issei.

“oikawa’s confident they’ll make it to nationals this year,” issei says conversationally, sawing into his steak, “says his kids are promising.”

“what?” (you’ve seen this film before.)

“you know,” takahiro says, “the volleyball kids he’s coaching.” you did not know.

“ah,” you say anyway, fingers slipping around the fork in your hands and grasping onto the far edge of a cliff, “how could i forget.”

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

you finish your degree. you get a (relatively) stable job at a nearby design office.

here’s the thing: they pay you well for a fresh graduate. here’s the thing: you can probably afford a one-bedroom apartment of your own if you’re smart about your money.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

“i’m moving out,” you say the moment oikawa opens the door, “thank you for everything.” (despite everything, you mean it. he’s taught you so many things.)

he smiles (it looks the same as what you imagine you’d smiled like the day of your first anniversary). “okay,” he says, and you think that that’s that.

“i’m sorry,” he says after a moment.

“yeah,” you say, “i am too.”

“thank you,” he continues, eyes almost the same shade as the day he’d brought you on a picnic, “i’ll always love you, you know that, right?”

you do (you feel the same, it is not the same love as when you had been fourteen and sixteen and seventeen and eighteen and nineteen, but it is still love).

“me too,” you say because there is nothing else to say, “you’re important to me. you’ll always be important to me.” it’s true: he was your first kiss and your first love and your first best friend and the first person you’re leaving first.

oikawa smiles, and disappears into the bathroom.

you stare at the ugly rug at your feet.

“is this okay?” you ask the broken pieces of you and him (curled around the jagged edges of each other, thorn to petal, bruise to open wound), “this is an okay ending, right?”

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

here’s the point: oikawa as the boy you loved, oikawa as your youth, oikawa as a part of the past you will always hold close but not be held behind by.

a study in relationships: someone will always leave first, it is a very old story.

introspection and a universal truth: youth and love makes one foolish, being foolish is not always a bad thing.

the point is: someone will always leave first, sometimes people fall out of love, sometimes familiarity is not enough to hold them together.

an old story, another universal truth: someone will always leave first, it is not always a bad ending.

»»————- ————- ————- ¤ ————- ————- ————-««

as always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! :D do drop me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general taglist :”)

p.s if you liked this, it would Be Cool if you leave me an ask / scream in the reblog tags because it would satisfy my need for validation 💔💔

#oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuucreations #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#kyouka writes

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ivyglow · 3 years

Text

Jealousy in a cliff | Frederik Andersen

A/n: I decided to mix both requests because that’s how my imagination wanted to lol -jk. It’s my first time writing smut in here, so I hope everything is ok, but you guys can always tell me if there’s anything wrong. Hope you like it! <3 ALSO, A huge shout out to @sebs-aston for proofreading this piece! (You’re amazing, Liv!)

Request: 67 with freddie Andersen please!! Smut Could you do 18 with Freddie Andersen? Maybe angst and smut? 18. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission” 67. “hey have you seen my- Oh.”

Word count: 2k

Warnings: pretty much just language, angst and smut (tight riding).

Summary: you and freddie are best friends, at least before you move in together and that friendship become something more.

Usually, when people talk about sharing an apartment with a male friend, they picture messy clothes around, a very unkept home, and some headaches involved. However, that wasn’t yours and Freddie’s case, and sometimes you like to think that maybe -just maybe- that’s why things started to escalate past the strong friendship you two had. He wasn’t messy, he knew how to cook, he liked to listen to you talk about your Ph.D. degree, and he knew you since you were six. That alone gave him hundreds of points ahead because he was familiar with your personality, he was able to recognize when you were sad or happy or excited.

You considered living by yourself when you first got the opportunity to continue your master’s in Toronto, but you liked to be around people, and living alone would feel lonely considering the amount of work you had to put up with, and add to that, it was expensive living in the heart of the city. So, as soon as you told Freddie where you were going -he was the first to know- he suggested you move in with him, and damn he knew exactly the arguments to convince you.

Four months into living together and he was also able to convince you of the friends with benefits arrangement, and let’s face it, it wasn’t that hard to get you on this train. Frederik was handsome, experienced, and older, to be honest, you always had a crush on him.

It was now eight months of living together, which means four months of being more than his friend, and even though you liked how things were working, you couldn’t help but wish for more than his friend with benefits and you hated how secretive things were. Needless to say, you also couldn’t figure out the best way to discuss the subject, and that’s how you two ended up fighting last week (the cherry on top of the cake being him not inviting you as his plus one to a Leafs’ event).

You’re in your room getting ready for the night because William was cute enough to invite you as his plus one. Taking a long look in the mirror to analyze your reflection, you sighed, the blue satin dress was the perfect fit, and the long cut from the top of your tights to your foot showed just the necessary amount to feed imaginations, you just needed to fix your hair, but somehow things did not feel quite right.

You’re trying to pinpoint what’s wrong, if it’s about your situation with Fred or if it’s really something about your looks when he enters the room unannounced, “Hey, have you seen my- Oh”. His voice dies down on his throat when he looks at you and you feel a shiver runs down your body with the way he’s scanning you.

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“Where are you going?” he looks taken aback and you hold back a sight.

“The same place as you,” you answer simply, and he raises his eyebrows, confusion written all over his face before you explain. “William invited me as his plus one.”

“And you’re going?” now he seems upset.

“Yeah?” you knew why he was upset, it wasn’t only the fact that you were going with another guy who happens to be his teammate, it was because the said guy also had a thing for you and was not even a bit concerned about hiding it. Since you and Freddie were nothing more than good childhood friends to everyone, Nylander did not see a problem hitting on you.

“You know he likes you…”

“And so does Mitch, Auston, Jimmy…” you start pointing out, trying to seem unbothered.

“It’s different and you know,” Freddie crosses his arms in front of his body, the jacket of his suit clinging to his muscles.

“We’re friends, there’s nothing wrong about it.”

“You’re not going with him.”

You turn from the mirror to face him, his jaw clenched. You hold your ground with a defiant look, “I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, a whisper yells that if in a different situation would leave your legs shaking. “It’s not like that. I’m sorry, it’s…” words seem hard for him to find, his silence does the same for you. Why couldn’t he see their relationship as what it was: a relationship. Or at least put more effort into reading you.

“Then tell me how it is,” you say turning back to the mirror only to realize you were now ready, things would never seem one hundred percent right while you kept that situation on hold with your best friend, so you just grabbed your handbag along with your lipstick and left.

You uber to William’s house, trying not to overthink during the whole fifteen minutes ride. William was your friend, but not close enough so you could talk about Fred with him, and to be honest, the way you two handled things no friend seemed close enough to know about your complexity. When you got there Nylander was almost ready, asking for your advice on which tie to wear and you happily helped him out before you two finally left.

The night rolled on with you mingling around, talking, laughing, and drinking. It wasn’t weird or anything since you already knew almost everyone, it actually felt good to distract your mind for a while with nice and friendly people. William eventually left and you talked a little more before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom.

The corridor was empty and you enjoyed the click of your heels until you reached the door and got in, but before you could close it, a foot got stuck in the way.

“Andersen, this is not the time to talk,” you hiss at him, but he seemed unbothered and determined. It was a five seconds stare contest before he got inside too and closed the door, locking it right after. “I mean it, we will talk at home…” you started. His big eyes staring at you knowingly almost made you wobble.

“Who says I wanna talk?” he inquired and you felt your mouth go dry with the closeness and the faint idea that crossed your mind. An idea that clearly crossed his too.

“Listen, Frederik, I’m really not in the mood for games. Can you just be honest with me? What the fuck is going on with us? Why don’t you just-” your question was interrupted by his mouth in yours. You saw when his right hand left the whisky glass he was holding on the bathroom counter and his left one brought your body closer. His mouth was a mix of alcohol and with a hint of mint, they were cold and soft against your lips you let your tongue be guided.

Now his right hand is on your shoulders, calloused and hot, playing with the strings of the dress before bringing it down to your elbow exposing one of your breasts to him. That’s the moment when he finally disconnects your lips, just seconds to be able to appreciate your body, the way it curves and bends towards him, how your sensitive nipples are already pointing to him. He licks his lips before kissing your shoulder, it’s soft, the complete opposite of the previous kiss, and the mix of feelings makes you whimper. You wanted him, wanted his mouth on you, his hands on you, but you also wanted more, you wanted the aggressive sex and the strong orgasms.

“I missed having you close,” he confesses before trailing kisses from your collarbone to your neck and cheeks. You gasped, “Me too.”

It’s seconds before your lips are connected again, and he moves one of his big tights between your legs. You almost moan at the feeling, he flexes it again when he feels your body’s response.

“That doesn’t change the fact that we need to have a serious talk about our relationship,” you say when he lets go of your mouth to kneel in front of you. The vision of the mop of hair and strong legs in front of you almost made you dazed.

“I’m counting on it, baby,” he remarks before his fingers find their way inside your dress. Freddie hooks his fingers to your panties before bringing them down to your ankles. You step aside and he puts the piece of lingerie inside his dress pants’ pocket. “But for now let me make you feel good.”

Then his tights are between your legs again and this time the friction is more intimate, you whimper. “Freddie!”

“I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you,” he whispers holding your butt and starting to guide your movements. It’s slow and steady and sexy and all you want to do is let your body go down the spiral that’s starting in the pitch of your bellybutton.

Freddie’s mouth finds your neck, the sweet spot just down your earlobe. He sucks and bites, before kissing it and the friction of his beard makes you want to jump too. Every touch of his, the sweet nothings he starts to say to your ear, his nose, and the way his breath is heavy against your skin.

You’re wet and he can feel it through the fabric of his pants.

He keeps kissing you while guiding your body, at this point your clit is aching for relief and you move one of your hands to your breasts, pinching one nipple lightly. He sees the action and squeezes your butt tighter. With your eyes closed, you let yourself be guided closer to the cliff, drinking from every touch and sensation, he’s hard against you, he’s whispering and praising you and your body, and you can’t help but believe everything, to feel pretty and hot, and good, just like Freddie says.

You also can’t help but agree that he’s the only one, no shame in that.

“I love you,” he mumbles lowering his kisses until he is face to face with your breasts, your back arched to give him full access, one of his hands sprawled to keep you safe from falling. You gasped once you felt his cold mouth biting your nipple, tugging it to him, he kissed and savored like it was his last meal and your pussy clenched.

He was getting you there.

“It’s messing your dress pants,” you protest when you thought the wetness was too much.

He chuckled so low while rubbing himself into you with more force, “Yeah, and I want you to cum on it.”

Oh, there it was!

The cliff.

The fall.

So close.

You could feel it twisting and tugging.

The cold in your stomach, the way your foot almost curled on the heels.

“C’mon, baby, let it go.”

You hold on to his large shoulders, bringing his body closer and hugging him while rubbing yourself more against his tight. Your forehead is rested against his solid chest and it’s less than a minute before he whispers something dirty into your ear and you’re coming right on his leg. The hot and white liquid strains his pants and some of it runs down your legs. He guides you and keeps rocking your body against his until you’re able to push him because the sensation it’s too breathtaking.

“You’re so hot when you cum,” he grins bringing his mouth to yours again.

The two of you spend some minutes there just kissing while you recover from your high and when you do, you start to clean yourself and grasp with the view of Freddie’s dress pants.

“How are you gonna cover that when we go back to the party?” you almost say something about his disheveled ginger hair too, but choose not to.

He arches his eyebrows, “who says we’re going back to the party?”

“Oh-” you blurted.

“We’re going home, I’m not done with my apologies yet.” And just like that, you feel the knot on your stomach again, the view of the cliff there and the sensation that you would fall over and over again that night, but it was ok since he was there to get you and guide you through it.

#frederik andersen #Toronto Maple Leafs #frederik andersen imagine #freddie andersen #nhl imagine #nhl smut #frederik andersen smut #hockey imagine #mels writing #melinda writes smutty #hockey smut #smut

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 3 years

Note

Headcanons for dew, rain, mountain and the papa’s s/o (feel free to leave out the ghoulies if you want <3) revealing that they have a glass eye after they’ve been dating for a while, but with a silly spontaneous taking out of the eye. (I recommend watching a video on how glass eyes work first though <3)

Thank you so much for recommending the videos, they really helped! I mostly went with your request of having the reveal be a silly prank and mixed it in with a few other scenarios, I hope that’s ok! And heck yeah, I’ll be happy to add the ghouls to it! Please enjoy! :)

Also feedback is always welcome!

Ember, Rain, Mountain, and the Papas React to their S/O removing their Glass Eye for the first time

Rain: Your ghoul lover had known about your eye since you first became an item. But it was becoming clear more and more often that he was very curious about your eye. He was a quiet and polite ghoul by nature despite his massive curiosity, so you knew it would take some time before he approached you on his own with questions. Not that you would have minded! Rain was respectful and you trusted him to be the same when it came to your eye. When one day you had taken it out to adjust after it had been bothering you for most of the morning you caught your lover watching, utterly fascinated. But Rain looked ashamed the moment you looked back at him. “It’s ok to be curious, Babe. It’s not a bad thing!” You assured him with a gentle smile and beckoned him over. Rain was happy you weren’t upset with him and did end up asking quite a bit! How to clean it, how does it stay, what is it made out of? You considered it a real bonding experience between you both!

Mountain: The drummer had been more blunt about your eye than anticipated, but it was obvious he meant no disrespect. During a conversation it eventually came up that your eye was fake. Mountain replied with a factual, “oh I noticed. It’s quite amazing.” You were taken aback by his genuine appreciation for the simple prosthesis, and you pressed to know why. Mountain took the time to explain that he found human medicines and inventions incredible. In Hell there were no such things as prosthetics or any medical machinery. When you lost a limb or a body part you just dealt with it. Mountain eventually told you the only time he has seen another eye like yours was one that belonged to a stone ghoul leader. It was an exquisitely carved and smoothed green gem! He ends up comparing the high quality of your eye to the gem and lamented that he would never be able to carve a rock to the degree of which your eye was made! It was a fascinating conversation, as you never considered what happened to ghouls in Hell before they came to Earth. It even made you blush when Mountain admitted he thought your eye was one of the most amazing things in the world.

Ember: The first time you removed your eye in front of the fire ghoul you had startled him! All you said was, “Hey babe, wanna see a trick?” and plucked your eye out. The lack of warning certainly caught him off guard as he jumped like a cat. You laughed HARD when his tail was stiffened straight and he garbled half sentences at you. When his brain finally processed what happened he threw his hands up, exasperated. “You could have just TOLD ME, I thought you were about to do something fucking TERRIFYING!” A few minutes after catching your breath you almost regretted showing him as his enthusiasm started to show. Ever since he found out your eye was fake he INSISTED that your next eye should be all white so you could pretend to be an Emeritus. Ember vehemently claimed it’d be hilarious to watch everyone shit their pants when you come out MARKED BY LUCIFER! Of course, you know how terrible of an idea that is! But hey, he’s got the right spirit!

Papa Nihil: Originally randomly removing your eye was going to be a small joke. It was a prank you liked to do from time to time, and you’d be lying if you said you DIDN’T enjoy the reactions you got. Some people looked confused and others jumped from shock. It always ended in huge peels of laughter from you and your friends. What you could have never anticipated was what would happen was Nihil cackling after the fact. You had expected shock or curiosity, but not the Grand Papa practically laughing in your face. When he saw your confused look he gestured for you to come over. It was your turn to laugh when he removed a bottom row of teeth from his mouth. When you sat down to exchange stories Nihil told you about a wild bar fight he got into back in the 70’s. It resulted in him having a banged up jaw and needing a small row of bottom teeth to be permanently replaced. When you shared your story he was just as happy to listen!

Papa I: You weren’t planning on taking out your eye in front of Papa, but necessity waits for no one. That day you were trying a new prosthesis from your doctor, but it just didn’t seem to work out for you. The eye was a slightly different fit and shape than you were used to and it had been irritating you all morning! Papa and you had taken to the sitting room to read together, but the eye made it impossible! you couldn't focus with the damn thing bothering you. You had enough and just popped to accursed thing out. Moments after your sigh of relief you realized Papa had stopped to watch you, a look of concern plastered on his face. He didn't seem alarmed that you were holding an eye in your hand, more so that you looked so uncomfortable. “Are you alright? Is your eye hurting you?” It took a moment to snap out of your stupor but you shook your head and explained everything. Papa nodded politely and smiled, happy to know you were ok. After you excused yourself you were quick to go back to your old eye. When you settled down next to him again you couldn’t help but quench your newfound curiosity. “It doesn’t bother you that my eye is fake?” Papa set down his book, confused as he removed the reading glasses from his face. “.... why should that bother me?” Honestly, that one question was all you needed to hear.

Papa II: When you first started dating you were immediately open about your eye. It wasn’t a terribly big deal for you, but you felt it fair to let him know. Papa only ‘hmm’d’ when you told him but thanked you for the information. If anything, unless it was bothering you it rarely came up in your day to day life! The only time you’ve ever seen him react to it was when he caught someone staring at your face at a clergy function. Your eye was incredibly realistic but there was always bound to be someone who noticed it was a prosthesis. You were used to it, as you knew people were often curious. Very few people ever made you uncomfortable. Papa on the other hand did not share your sentiment. One thing everyone knew about the second Emeritus is how he absolutely despised anything he considered, in his words, “boorish”. Before you could say anything to the person Papa’s voiced hissed out as his hand clasped your shoulder. “Do you mind, or are you going to stare like a gaping troglodyte.” The sibling didn’t need to be told twice and immediately scurried away. Papa cleared his throat as you shook your head, trying to hide your smile. He apologized for speaking over you, and even looked a little embarrassed at his sudden defensiveness. You, in turn, told him he could make up it up to you by getting you a drink!

Papa III: Your mischievous streaks were only matched by Papa’s. It’s what made you fall for each other, after all! So naturally you decided your big reveal would have to be a good one. You waited until the perfect opportunity arose one night. You both had a fun game of saying or doing the most over the top romantic clichés you could think of. It was like your own little game you only played with each other! Papa's favorite tactic was to bombard you with the cheesiest pick up lines he could think of! You loved to roll your eyes and pretend you didn't love every minute. The moment finally came one night when Papa had fallen into your lap, proclaiming how amazing your eyes were. Papa went over the top to make you laugh- saying how much they sparkled like the night sky and were like gems he wanted to keep like little treasures. You grinned and without missing a beat reached up to your face. “You like them that much? Here-” he gasped as you plucked it out, “you can have one!” It took Papa a few moments before he howled laughing, you joining him shortly. Papa praised you for your excellent comedic timing and it has been your inside joke ever since!!

Papa IV/Copia: The fact that Copia saw you taking out your eye at all had been a rather hilarious coincidence... to you at least! It often slipped your mind when you first started seeing each other to tell him of your eye. It wasn't a huge concern for you and every time you remembered you figured the right opportunity would come. One day when you woke up you decided it was as good a time as ever to clean it. You had been ready to start cleaning it and plucked it out as Copia wandered into your shared bathroom, half asleep. Copia hollered at first when he saw you remove it. He frantically shook his head and rubbed at his own eyes to make sure he was awake. When you both realized what had happened Copia had little time to blush as you doubled over laughing. Eventually, after your giggle fit, Copia apologized profusely for his crappy behavior. He explained that he was still waking up and thought you had just randomly pulled something out of your eye socket. You had to convince him a couple of times that you did not take offense to his reaction. As far as you were concerned, no harm no foul! You knew that Copia would NEVER purposely make someone feel bad. Eventually he came around and accepted that you weren’t mad at him!

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost headcanons #reader insert #ember #mountain #rain #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia

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kuekyuuq · 3 years

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Gloria, Jet-lags and Imps [6x11]

Let’s jump right in:

Kinda love how Kara lamp-shaded addressed the fact she didn't tell the gang about her adventures in the PZ. She’s not wrong, tho.

...what do I want to say about Mxy using what's basically a well-known gay-anthem to tell his tale? I mean, it didn’t lead anywhere. The original song is about freeing oneself, liberation, stepping out of a (gone bad) relationship and moving on, stronger for it - empowerment. The only connection I could make, is that originally it was Nyxly’s aim to just do that (freeing herself and her kind from an oppressor), but in the way Mxy performed it, that part of the parallel was long over before he even reached the chorus. It’s also a popular Karaoke song, tho, so... he chose it because it’s catchy? I’ll try not to overthink it for now. At least, the Superfriend’s reactions were fun.

Nia exiting the elevator, "And what's this Old Stone?" I love it when ppl enter a room / situation and pick up on words that they couldn't have possibly heard. I think cinema sins ding such... Are we to assume, she dreamed Mxy's rendition of ‘I will survive’? Or is the elevator not sound-proof at all? (If it’s the latter, Nia later apparently telling Brainy “in private” between scenes / during the elevator ride about her Nyxly adventures, was a silly thing to do.)

So, "Jared" created the ring Old Stone to rule them all, it got shattered into the Paragons totems? Nyxly needs the totems and to get them she needs a crystal which also belonged to "Jared" - who happens to be Mxy's ancestor, which is why she needs Mxy / his blood, too.

I have one important and incredibly relevant question here, tho...

With the introduced imps and their names... Why’s dude named Jared of all things?!

Really, did I mishear that? If so, I’ll leave it as is and never edit, bc that would be hilarious in its own right 😋

...

Not sure what to make about Supergirl paraphrasing a Dirty Dancing quote. "Nobody puts Mxy into a power crystal on my watch." ...is he Baby now? (Seriously, though: Which of the writers thought that was a fitting quote to use in that particular context?)

...now, is the exposition section of the episode over yet?

Sensitive Brainy sensed something was up with Nia. He can relate... Nia doubting Kara would understand, too, is ridiculous. But I get it... insecurities and all. But, I mean, just 5 minutes later Kara announces she wants to save Nyxly despite her wrongdoings. And yet Nia still remains convinced, Kara wouldn’t forgive her own personal mini-me... After having witnessed Kara forgiving Lena for a whole season of the writers being stupid messing up to the nth degree. But I digress, Lena’s Lena.

...how old is Nia meant to be again? Just asking out of completely unrelated curiosity.

F*ck. They really went with NewFoundland...

Imma assume it was an executive choice after realizing they couldn’t find enough actors and actresses with a convincing Irish accent... maybe. Again, no offense to Newfoundland! Just... we got the insinuations of Ireland, not Newfoundland... And truthfully, when I think of magic, Ireland is an easy association. Whereas I only due to this whole debacle learned Newfoundland has Irish ancestry. So, okay, the show forced me to learn something new... I give ‘em that.

An easy journey, she said.

Lena's been off-screen for two whole episodes, Kara announcing at the beginning of ‘Dreamweaver’ [6x09] Lena being “back east” (at least insinuating Lena’s left the west-coast already), which span over at least one full day (feat. a scene at night), and ‘I still rise’ [6x10] at least another a whole day (the whole Nia’s mom back for a day deal). And, now, after at least 48 hours she barely just arrived.

Lemme check how long a regular plane would need to fly from California to NFL......... ... .. .. So... approx. 10 hours with at least one layover.

Yeah, using a private jet made it easier, but apparently also much, much slower...

Or, Lena randomly went some other places / did some sight-seeing in NFL before she decided to finally visit her mother’s hometown... [Either that or the timelines don’t match up and Lena’s scenes are flashbacks of sorts.]

Optimistic and relaxed Lena is a sight to behold. I rewound 3 times, just to enjoy it for as long as possible. We all knew it was going to be short-lived...

Let’s check off a few more items...

OMG, Kara hiding behind Alex at the mere sight of the PZ-projector broke my heart! 😢

"Elisabeth Walsh" is the new 'the one you shall not name'. ...poor Lena. 😭

Oh, so Mxy wants to be Patrick Swayze instead of Baby... gotcha.

...is this going anywhere?

KITTY!!! Okay, this must be the best opponent in the history of CWSG.

Despite the horrible CGI, SG using her heat-vision to project a laser-beam to distract the cat had me in (happy-) tears! 🤣

Gotta love the civilians of National City quickly returning to business as usual once the giant cat is gone. Even the police officers looked rather chill...

Nyxly did look fabulous this episode ^^

Andrea being Lena's rock is both great and annoying. I can't fault Andrea. It's just, that we still have to see an on-screen interaction between Lena and Kara and that bugs the heck out of me. I can’t help it. I’m sorry, Andrea.

Nia: "...is my fault." Kara: "Nu, is MY fault!" J'onn: "Stop fighting, kids!" Space-dad has spoken.

Mxy used an LuthorCorp copy machine... and of cos it's faulty. It's not an L-Corp product.

Kara forgiving Nia came as a surprise to her... Oooookay. I mean, the show has been writing Kara a bit inconsistently the past two seasons... so, yeah, maybe being unsure which of her traits apply this week was not such a far stretch...

Maybe it's the hair, but I wished, Florence was played by Alex Kingston.

So, not-Alex-Kingston shows Lena herself with a funny wig and tells her how her mother was still watching her...

If it wasn't for Katie's acting skills (I love her.) I would have already hit my head against the wall repeatedly. Something about these scenes had me constantly cringe and I made it through 5.5 seasons of this show already... Can’t quite put my finger on it, but it was highly distracting from the story that explained Lena’s mom was special even to another witch, where there was domestic abuse, and an accidental murder. Y’know, important stuff, deep-cutting stuff!

At least, poor widddle Lena got some closure there. Elisabeth was a good cookie. And filled with magic. And Lena’s gotta have that ‘spark’, too...

....so... Lena’s gonna stay in NFL for how much longer, to train becoming a witch? Please, just hand her a how-to manual and send her back home, to figure it out on her own, please... (Yes, that would be horrible decision-making, but I need her back with the team!)

On to the finish line:

So... Mxy IS Nyxly's brother? Wait, that doesn’t sound right... then Nyxly would have the same blood... Did I miss something? Can someone explain, please? Or is he her ex, and that’s where his rendition of “I will survive” makes sense?

Hnn... I can't help, but think Kara's speech for Nyxly was 85% based on her experiences with Lena in s05.

Awww... he said "stronger together"... Mxy... I hope, you'll be okay!

Lena believes in magic now. And I absolutely love how Lena wants to science magic XD

...but apparently magic isn’t science that hasn’t been explained yet, but parallel... powers? concepts? ether strings?

Nyxly has a loyal henchman now. Which was a bit heavy-handed. Took way too much of screen-time, so it better leads to something interesting.

And Kara is on a warpath now. Wooooot! Girl’s got enough.

...what else?

Did I miss a third Patrick Swayze hint / quote / mention? I learned, these things come in threes... Y’know, basic writing rules...

I guess, for once the episode title was meant to be taken literally, Mxy popping up between characters, to try and help. (I need in-show footage, of Mxy sneaking up on ppl, without his powers, on all fours / crouched, just to get the desired effect.) I mean, I’ve never really watched Malcom, but wasn’t he like what Mxy usually is? A bit of a trouble-maker, prankster, chaos-ensuing wherever he goes? ...well, in that case, the episode title didn’t hold up, as Mxy’s scenes were not fun or really goofy. Yes, there was some superficial humor, but just to serve Mxy dealing with not being able to use his powers, which in turn was only barely scratched at (although it turned out to be his final character development crisis, appreciating not having powers and - in turn - facing consequences for once). Again, a whole lot going on in the episode, so a lot of that may have ended up on the cutting-room floor.

...where’s Kelly? Secretly adopting a kid, maybe?

...Kara’s still a reporter, right? I mean, whenever it serves the immediate plot, yes? ...Not even a throw-away line, that she has to pop up at CatCo for appearances sake? Since Andrea is already upset with her AND looking into her friends’ identities? At least, Kara should take a peek to make sure Andrea hasn’t uncovered anything yet... No?

Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. Kue out.

#Supergirl #supercorp #Mxy in the middle #6x11 #mxy #nyxly #lena luthor #magic #lena's mom #fiction dissected #fandom #episode #Nia nal #dreamer #brainy #brainia

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fizzychocolatemilk · 3 years

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You've Got a Friend in Me (You've Got Troubles. I've Got 'em too.) (A Bakudeku Tropetember Fic)

Another Tropetember thingy (this one is a little late though...oops). I classify this one as a fic because it surpassed 1K. This one is for day eight: 5+1 / 3+1 (Five Times + One Time). AO3 link is here. It’s slightly angsty...so beware of feels.

tw: use of the f slur, homophobia, unsupportive parents, bullying

(1.)

“You’ll always be nothing but some dumbass, lightning-bolt faggot! You should just pack up and quit the hero course now. You’re too stupid to ever make it further than some lowly sidekick position,” the boy finished his abuse before dissolving into obnoxious laughter.

Said boy was one of Denki’s middle school classmates. Denki had accidentally run into him because he was texting Eijirou. The boy had looked over his shoulder and seen Eiji’s name (along with a heart) and started making fun of him for being “a faggot”. Denki knew he shouldn’t take what some asshole said to heart, but the things that he said reminded Denki of other times when he had been put down similarly. Lots of people seemed to think he was an incompetent dumbass who could never do anything right unless he had help, and, while sure, he was a little slow in academics...he definitely had other skill sets that made him a kick-ass hero! That didn’t mean that it was easy to convince himself of that.

“Denki-kun! Hi!” a voice broke Denki out of his spiral.

Denki turned toward the voice and, low and behold, it was Izu-kun. Denki gave Izuku a weak smile and a wave as he stood tensely next to the bully.

“Denki! Who’s this? A friend?” Izuku asked as he walked up to the two. His voice sounded dangerous, and Denki could hear the “or foe?” that came after his words. At 17, Class 3-A knew that Izuku was dangerously protective of his friends, and they all did their best not to provoke his fury in any way. Because a feral Izuku was terrifying.

The bully didn’t know this though, and he simply laughed before “greeting” Izuku, “Ah, guess we’ve got another faggot. Or did you not know that Lightning Dolt here was a twink?”

Izuku’s aura darkened several degrees at the boy's statement but still he shot the boy a bright (but fake) smile, “I’ll give you three seconds to run before I fucking destroy you.”

The boy’s face dropped and he blinked, “Uhhh...what?”

Izuku continued to smile, “One.”

The boy’s eyes widened in panic, “Wait, man!”

“Two.”

The boy started running, “We can talk about this!”

“Three,” Izuku immediately gave chase—or he would have if Denki hadn’t given him a small shock and held him back. Izuku struggled for a second before sighing and turning to Denki, “Denki-kun, you are more than just a brainless idiot and more than just a...a...you know. You’re amazing and talented in your own right and I’m proud to call you my friend.”

Denki blinked in surprise before blushing lightly, “Thanks, Izu. I really appreciate it.” He smiled genuinely at Izuku.

(2.)

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Momo,” the dark-haired woman stared harshly down at her daughter, “You may feel like this now, but one day you’ll find a nice, upstanding gentleman that captures your heart. Not some...punk-rock freak-girl.”

Momo stared down at her feet and sighed softly before replying, “Yes, mother.”

However, as she turned to make her way into the dorms, and her mother turned to meet with the chauffeur, she heard a very familiar voice. “Excuse me, ma’am! Yaoyorozu-san! May I have a word with you?” Momo turned to see Izuku-kun coming down the dorm steps and speed walking down the lawn to meet with the two women. He had a slightly dangerous aura (someone outside of Class A wouldn’t even notice), but Momo stood rigid as her friend stood up to her mother, “Yaoyorozu-san. I think you should consider taking your daughter more seriously.

“You might not know me well personally, but Yaomomo-chan and I know each other very well and I would consider us good friends. She’s smart, resourceful, and talented, and I think we can both agree that she will make a fantastic hero. But Yaomomo-chan is also responsible and mature, definitely mature enough to make her own decisions about her relationship choices.

“My own mother is very protective of me too, but I think that part of being a parent means accepting and supporting children through their choices and the consequences of those choices (good or bad), even if they aren’t choices that you, yourself, would make. I hope that you can come to respect Yaomomo-chan’s decisions about her own future, and find comfort in the fact that I, and everyone else in Class A, will always offer her our full support. Thank you for your time.” Izuku bowed politely before turning to Momo. “Kacchan made dinner. You should come eat it before it gets cold,” he smiled before heading back inside.

Momo’s mother looked surprised for a second before saying a quick goodbye and hurrying away. Momo smiled after her before whispering under her breath, “You are a marvelous friend, Izuku-kun.”

(3.)

Hanta was in a rush to get to class. Usually he was pretty punctual, but today he missed his alarm so he wasn’t feeling the best. Anxious and rushed, he accidentally ran into the worst person reasonably possible.

“Ahah, if it isn’t the plain-faced tape dispenser from Class A!” Monoma laughed, “Late to class, I see! Tsk, tsk, yet another reason Class B is superior! At the very least we’re punctual!”

Hanta deadpanned at the slate-eyed boy, “You know you’re late too, right?”

Monoma’s jaw dropped for a second before he regained his composure. He huffed and took another angle, “Well, at least I have a personality! You’re so boring that it’s a wonder anyone pays attention to you at all. You’re almost more invisible than the invisible girl in your class! Not to mention that you’ll probably never get a girlfriend, hah!”

Hanta rolled his eyes, despite the pang in his heart, before maneuvering himself to speed-walk past Monoma. “I’m literally dating Shou. It’s been the hot gossip for the past few days, and you’re definitely shallow enough to keep up with the gossip mill.”

Monoma guffawed, “How did a plain-faced peasant like you end up with someone as high class as Todoroki? It’s a wonder, isn’t it? But, of course, I’m sure you’ve been hearing that for the past few days, haven’t you?”

Hanta knew that he shouldn’t take anything that Monoma says seriously, but he’d been hearing how “unworthy” he was of Shouto for the past few days (since their relationship became public knowledge). The scathing words got to him and it made him doubt himself a little. He sped off towards his classroom, ignoring Monoma’s jeers in the background.

That day, during a joint training session, Izuku requested to be paired with Monoma...and maybe Izuku went a little harder than he usually did. Maybe Monoma ended up in the infirmary before class ended, but it was training so Izuku couldn’t really be blamed for accidentally injuring his classmate, could he?

Hanta smiled as he now had an explanation for the flash of green he swore he saw out of the corner of his eye as he was rushing to class after the encounter.

(+1.)

Katsuki slapped Deku on the back after training. “What the fuck was that, nerd?! You fucking beat the hell outta the Copycat Freak! Why can’t you ever go that hard when we train?”

Deku’s face flushed as he turned a blinding smile at Katsuki. Cute. Katsuki shook himself from his thoughts as Deku started talking to him. “I guess I just got really into the exercise, Kacchan!”

Katsuki could tell that Izuku’s words weren’t the whole truth but he decided to gloss over it for now in favor of focusing on a topic that had been bugging him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Mochi Head lately. Skimping on our training. Any specific reason, Deku?”

Katsuki watched as Deku’s face flushed again, but this time it made a pit grow in his stomach. The pit grew as Deku stumbled over his words for a few minutes before answering, “We’ve just been helping each other study, Kacchan.”

“You’re fucking lying, stupid Deku,” Katsuki scoffed as his heart started cracking, tiny pieces falling into the void. “But it’s fucking fine. If you’d rather waste time with your girlfriend like a dumbass then I’ll take the number one spot all the more easily,” he said, but the words felt ashy in his mouth, empty and non-fulfilling.

He started walking away when there was a sharp tug on his wrist. “Kacchan!” It was Deku. It was always Deku. Katsuki stopped trying to pull away, but he didn’t turn around yet. “I love you! No one else! Ochako-chan has just been helping me work through my feelings for you! She has feelings for someone else!” Katsuki turned sharply to see Deku staring intensely at him. “You are my symbol of victory. My hero. My Kacchan. It’s only ever been you, so please. Please allow me to stand by your side!”

Katsuki sniffled before completely breaking down in tears from the emotional taxation of the last few minutes. Being the empathetic crier he is, Deku broke down with him and they held each other and sobbed. After a couple more minutes, Katsuki had pulled himself together enough to respond, “Y-yeah, dumb Deku. Keep your eyes on me.”

Katsuki stood and extended a hand to Izuku to help him up. Izuku stared at him fondly for a split second before taking his offer. They walked back to the dorms side-by-side and hand-in-hand.

#fizzy's fics #tropetember #bakudeku #bakudeku fics #bkdk #bkdk fic #seroroki #momojirou #kirikami #midoriya izuku #kaminari denki #yaoyorozu momo #sero hanta #bakugou katsuki #other mentioned characters #light angst #tw: homophobia #tw: bullying

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

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chasing a feeling pt. III - spencer reid

Warnings: mild cursing, implied smut (nothing explicit), kinda angsty, kinda fluffy Word Count: 2.3k Summary: this is part three: Spencer has a habit of showing up at your door in the middle of the night. A/N: italics are memories/flashbacks. also sorry this took so long omg!!

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

The case concluded a couple of days later. Days which consisted of ignoring Spencer; unless absolutely necessary. Days spent trying not to look at him, days spent pretending you weren't thinking about him, his touch, or that night you spent together.

It was incredibly hard to concentrate on quite literally anything.

The night you got home from the work trip was a sleepless one. You tossed and turned, anxious about seeing the brunette doctor the next day. You couldn't help but wonder how the two of you will act around one another now that you were back on common ground. How your dynamic will be now that you weren't working a case.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that you weren't the only one feeling restless. A knock on your door caused you to hop out of bed and wander towards it. Letting a yawn escape your lips you looked through the peephole to check who was on the other side. Spencer.

Quickly, you opened the door. The young doctor looked up from the ground and greeted you with a timid smile.

“Spencer, what are you doing here? How did you know where I live?”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I know it’s late but-” He cleared his throat. “-can we please talk?” He asked while staring deep into your eyes. You nodded after a brief moment and stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

Spencer sat down on the couch, glancing around your apartment in the process. The place wasn’t fully decorated yet. A number of cardboard boxes were stacked on top of one another in the corner of the living room, clearly still full. The TV lay on the floor, cables tangled, and beside it was a half-opened suitcase with your go-bag thrown hastily on top.

You asked if he wanted a coffee, or anything else to drink, but he politely shook his head ‘no’ so you situated yourself on the opposite end of the couch and waited for him to tell you why he was here.

Silence enveloped around the room. Suddenly afraid to say anything, in case it ended up in another argument, the brunette doctor nervously fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt. You were slightly taken aback by his nervous demeanour, it was completely different to the way he acted around you the last week.

It reminded you of when you were younger. The shy, awkward, slightly closed-off Spencer. The guy who wouldn’t hold your hand or at time was afraid to meet your gaze, the guy that didn’t understand the sarcastic jokes you made. It made your heart ache a little.

Finals were approaching and they were approaching fast. Everyone said law school would be hard. Long hours, extensive curriculum, sleepless nights, projects, essays, case-studies. The list goes on.

It didn't help that you were a lot younger than your fellow classmates. Being an ambitious and driven kid you managed to skip a few grades and get an undergraduate degree in psychology at a very young age. Law school seemed like the logical next step although now you were thinking about giving up.

With junior year coming to an end, you constantly wondered whether this should be the end of your law career. Perhaps there was something better out there for you. Something easier, and not as draining. You weren't a quitter, far from it, but this was too much for a single person to handle.

It was Friday night, and yet currently you were curdled up on the library floor rather than at some frat party. Piles on piles of books and encyclopaedias formed around you as you worked away on your end of term paper.

A not so quiet yawn escaped your lips. Followed by another. Leaning back against the shelf behind you, you closed your eyes. Honestly, you could fall asleep here, now.

It was in that moment of silence you heard a shuffling sound approaching your location between the aisles of books. Slowly, you flushed your eyes back open to analyse your surroundings - see who it was that disturbed your peace.

A scrawny boy stood just a few feet away, deeply focused on the collection of titles in front of him. The boy was around your age. Tall. You could see remains of gel in his short brown hair; which was now quite messy. He was dressed in a slightly oversized sweater, underneath he wore what looked like a neatly ironed shirt, and a dark bag was draped loosely over his shoulder.

“Hello.” You said. His head instantly snapped in your direction.

“H-hi.” He replied sheepishly. “I-I didn’t mean to wake you.” His soft demeanour made you smile. “Oh, I wasn't actually sleeping. Just resting my eyes for a second.”

The boy nodded. You waited for him to say something but he didn't so you reached out your hand.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

His gaze travelled to your hand before moving back up to meet yours. He didn't move any closer, and you could sense he grew a little uncomfortable, so you let your hand fall down to your lap.

“I’m Spencer.” He cleared his throat. “Doctor Spencer Reid.” Your eyes widened a little at his esteemed title. “Doctor?”

Spencer’s nose twitched gently.

“I have Ph.D’s in mathematics, chemistry and engineering.” He retorted causing your mouth to part in shock. “Holy shit.” Pause. “Wow, and here I thought I was the resident genius having one silly undergraduate degree.” You joked; but the young doctor didn't laugh. He simply stared at you, a kind look spread across his face.

“W-what are you studying now?” Spencer asked, motioning to the stakes of books around you.

“I’m in law school.” You replied. “Failing miserably to write my stupid end of term paper.” Sigh. “One of many actually.”

Spencer took one step forward. “M-maybe I can help?” He offered. “That is really kind of you but unless you have a law degree you haven’t mentioned yet, I don't know how you would be able to help.”

“I don’t have a law degree, but I have an eidetic memory.” He said, nervously tugging at the strap of his bag. “I-if that’s of any help to you.”

The smile on your face grew wider. “Well Spencer, now you’re just showing off.”

It was at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue with such ease, the brunette doctor finally smiled. And holy smokes did he have a pretty smile. Your heart skipped a beat as his face illuminated.

“But you convinced me.” You added while getting up on your feet. You picked up your things along with as many books as you could carry. Spencer shuffled toward you, and while keeping his distance, he bent down to pick up the remaining items.

“Why are you here Spencer?” You finally asked breaking the silence.

The brunette agent tilted his head in your direction, eyes locking with yours once again causing the air to catch briefly in your chest.

“I wanted to make sure you knew that what happened between us the other night, that wasn’t some ploy to get you to stay.” He stated. “I tried to explain that to you but you never really gave me a chance.” Pause. “Y/N, I want you to stay. Not for me but because you deserve to be a part of this team.”

“I appreciate you saying that Spencer. Truly.” A small smile graced your facial features. The brunette doctor smiled down at his hands. “But you didn’t have to come here in the middle of the night to tell me that. It could have waited.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Spencer smirked before clearing his throat. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours. “I guess I just wanted to see you.” You bit down on your bottom lip the second he said that, your heart skipping a beat. Spencer shifted closer to you. Without really thinking about it, you also moved in his direction. Your knees now touching.

“You know, communication was never our strong suit. For two people with psychology degrees you would think we’d be better at it.” You muttered making Spencer laugh. The smile on your face slowly faded. “Maybe we’re too similar, maybe that was our downfall.”

Spencer lifted his hand, reaching out for yours which was currently placed on your lap. He intertwined his fingers with yours. “In reality, opposites don’t attract.” The brunette doctor noted. “You’re more likely to be attracted someone who thinks the same as you do.”

In the space of a heartbeat, without giving you a chance to reach, Spencer leaned in. His lips brushed against yours; electricity shooting through your body. His free hand found its way to your face, and he cupped your cheek. As seconds passed you pushed yourself into him more. Fuck. Should you be doing this?

You hurried through the halls, slaloming between the groups of students making their way peacefully to class. A feeling of excitement filled you from head to toe; excitement you only wanted to share with one specific person.

Spencer was sat in your now usual spot at the university library. Two coffees in front of him, one for you.

A sort of routine emerged since the two of you first met. It started out for purely academic purposes, but in the last week especially it evolved into something different. A friendship perhaps? No. It felt more than that although neither of you could quite describe it

“I did it!” You exclaimed while sitting down beside the young doctor - getting a dirty look from the librarian in the process. She shushed you before returning to whatever it was she was doing. You rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to Spencer. “I am officially done with all my papers and assignments.”

“I’m happy for you Y/N.” Spencer smiled.

“Well, I couldn't have done it without you.” You beamed at him. “I don’t know how I will ever thank you Spencer.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Come on genius, there must be something I can do for you.”

The brunette doctor cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze. “I-I have t-two tickets to this convention, but you wouldn't be interested.” You raised an eyebrow while reaching for one of the coffees on the table. Lifting the lid to your lips you smiled. “It’s a date.”

Spencer’s hands were now holding onto your waist. He lifted you up in one swift motion, without breaking the kiss, so that you were now cradling his lap. You held his face, the tips of your fingers wrapping in his light brown curls.

Any reservations you had just a moment ago were now forgotten. You were completely lost in him, just as he was in you.

As your mouth parted, Spencer’s tongue crept between your lips meeting yours. Instantly, your tongues began to play back and forth. Heads tilting side to side to vary pressure.

Spencer’s strong hands began to travel up your body. They moved from your waist; slightly messing up your shirt in the process and sending a shiver down your spine. They stopped once they reached your neck, giving it a light squeeze. You couldn't help but moan against his hot mouth.

“I honestly don’t remember the last time I had this much fun.” You breathed happily as you and the young doctor walked down the busy street after the convention. “You don’t have to say that Y/N.” Spencer said, nervously tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

“Are you kidding? Spencer, today was amazing!” You beamed throwing your hands up in the air. “I was supposed to be making it up to you for your help with my papers but instead you treated me to another great day.”

Spencer chuckled lightly. He loved seeing you this happy. The more he thought about it, the more he realised how many things he actually loved about you. But it made him nervous because what if he didn't just love things like your laugh or your attitude. What if in fact he was in love with you.

“I guess we’re going to have to go on another date.” You teased. Spencer’s nose twitched but he didn't say anything. His lack of response caused you to stop in your tracks. The young doctor mimicked your move and also stopped, just a step ahead of you.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed.

“Why are you sorry?” Spencer asked confused.

“I just, I called today our date and I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I know the idea of dating can make you uncomfortable.” Your mouth flipped into a half-smile. “I like hanging out with you Spencer. I enjoy your company, and I wouldn't want to jeopardise that.”

“I like hanging out with you too.”

“Really?” “O-of course I do Y/N.” He smiled nervously. “I-I would like to go on more dates with you. You’re like a breath of fresh air.” Your face flushed red at his comment. Something Spencer noticed immediately. Without really thinking, he reached out his hand and gently caressed your cheek.

Your heart stopped. This was the first time he had touched you, ever. It was the first time you felt his soft skin against yours. You wanted desperately to lean into his touch but you didn't want to scare him off so you stood still, taking a mental picture of this moment.

Very slowly the two of you broke apart. The brunette doctor looked deep into your eyes; what he saw was longing, fervour. He felt the exact same.

Between the constant fights and misunderstandings it felt wrong to feel this strong desire to one another. This strong pull. It felt almost toxic. But Spencer shook the invasive thought away, his lips once again meeting yours.

“Would you like to move this to the bedroom?” You suggested in a mere whisper in between kisses. Spencer nodded. His hands situated themselves on your bum. The brunette agent picked you up allowing you to swiftly wrapp your legs around him. He carried you to the bed, kicking the door shut behind you with his leg.

story taglist: @ashwarren32, @haylaansmi, @spencersblog, @lovebodymindstuff, @april-14-blog, @wooya1224, @chevyimpala00067, @sizzlingclamturtlesludge

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