mondrise

[mondrise]

kageyama tobio being a good senpai 🥺

sophomore kageyama tobio is a lot better at the communication thing than freshman kageyama tobio. it would really suck if he wasn't, especially when it comes to the court—considering he spent nearly a year learning to play knife nice with his teammates, he's grown used to people counting on him, and he never complains because he's confident in his skills. of course, that confidence doesn't necessarily carry over into other aspects of his life.

communication, for example. just because he's better at it doesn't mean he's great. or good, even.

to the newer members on the team, he's still a bit rough around the edges. a couple of the scrubs muster the courage to make small talk every now and then, but the majority of them can never seem to say more than two syllables to him, much less continue a conversation. hinata is always the first to point it out, which is sort of annoying, if only because it's a known fact that hinata is their favorite out of all the upperclassman.

"maybe you should do something about that," hinata says.

tobio frowns. "you're gesturing to all of me."

"i didn't want to miss a spot."

"dumbass."

"i’m kidding," hinata grins. "don't worry so much about offending them, bakageyama. that’s not to say you should be rude on purpose, but at least you're not still being rude accidentally, either."

"still?"

"it was a compliment."

"me accidentally offending people?"

"you not accidentally offending people anymore."

"it's different when they're younger than you," tobio grumbles. "you're probably used to it, though, being the eldest child and all."

on the contrary, everyone in tobio's life has always been the same age or older, and he looks up to all of them one way or another. that's why he knows firsthand what it means to have heroes like that for kids like him. he isn't sure how to step into that role, if he wants to at all. the first years on the team are clumsy and curious, but what can he teach them that the others can't? it took him this long just to stop accidentally offending people.

"you're worrying again," hinata teases.

tobio swats at him. "shut up."

"what would our senpais do in this situation? i mean, you're definitely not as cool," tobio attempts another swipe at his head, but hinata avoids it with a laugh. "okay, okay! i just figured you could use them as inspiration without following in their exact footsteps! when i was gesturing to all of you, i was pointing out the best parts!"

tobio gives a grunt to end the conversation and promptly shifts into position. as he starts his serve, he begrudgingly takes the advice, thinking about his grandfather, his sister, his senpais, his friends—even dumbass hinata—and he arrives at the conclusion that all the best parts of him are an amalgamation of them.

then the ball flies. and so does tobio.

by the time he becomes vice captain in his third year, the younger members of the team can talk to him without stuttering like they once did when speaking to his second year self. had he done anything differently? no, not really. he just decided to do something, and people happened to notice.

as far as tobio knows, he isn't a hero to anyone, but he is a senpai—kageyama-senpai who spends so many of his breaks teaching the first years how to send a ball soaring over the net. kageyama-senpai who keeps coins in his pockets so he can buy them drinks after a late practice.

kageyama-senpai who throws his jacket over their shoulders when they doze off on the bus. kageyama-senpai who stays to toss for them even if he's exhausted from playing five straight sets. kageyama-senpai who isn’t the best at everything. or great. or good, even. but kageyama-senpai always tries.

the kids who look at him see all the best parts of themselves, too. there's no real way to put it into words until they hear hinata-senpai say them aloud.

"as long as you're here, i'm invincible."

kageyama-senpai might not consider himself a hero, but he sure has a way of making you feel like one. and that means more to them than anything else.

[mondrise]

domestic oikuroo? 🥺🥺

tetsurou had heard of his name before. if not from the news, then from whispers in passing, mostly praises mixed with gratuitous gossip expected of a professional player at that level. the two of them ran in circles around each other as early as high school, merely a couple of captains fulfilling their duty to keep an eye on potential competition. his job only gave them a reason to meet five years into their respective careers. as strangers, they started with some small talk, hi’s and hello’s, but even then, the formalities felt a little strained.

with so many similar interests, conversations nowadays consist of everything from conspiracy theories to dinner date reservations, if they remembered to use words at all. tooru talks a lot, to the point where people wonder if he just likes the sound of his own voice, but tetsurou has his ways of shutting him up. more often than not, it leads to soft snores and even softer touches, one or the other unconsciously snuggling closer for warmth. neither care that his bedhead worsens, and whether he ever admits it, those sorts of evenings are his favorite.

sometimes, tooru stays awake through the night, murmuring stories about aliens and androids and argentina. definitely real, he says. apple sucks, he says. we should get married there, he says. tetsurou always agrees, even if he already upgraded to the newest iphone. when the sun rises, casting shadows on the walls, he stares at their silhouettes and catches himself with a smile. tooru notices and only stops speaking to sneak another kiss. as tetsurou leans into him, he thinks maybe it’s not so hard to admit that mornings like this one are his favorite, too.

[mondrise]

gardening with zhongli modern au 😔

summer mornings with zhongli often start after surreptitiously slapping the snooze button for several more minutes of sleep. holding hands beneath the blanket becomes one of many silken gestures that keep you sewn into the sheets, but the promise of your favorite pastime spurs you to stumble out of bed before the alarm sounds, mustering sleepy smiles and stifling yawns.

his eyelids stay half-lidded from slumber, which he’s only grown accustomed to after years living among humans. as zhongli wakes, he studies the curves of your back, bared to him until a dress drapes over the expanse of your skin. he eases into a sincere smile when you beam at him, encompassing a warmth that permeates the entire room, not unlike the sunlight slowly filtering in through the blinds.

“do you think the plums are ready?”

zhongli chuckles, endeared by your enthusiasm. in a generation with immediate access to google search, having a grasp on the manner of all minutiae almost feels like a burden, but you always ask him questions and appreciate his answers, even those steeped in uncertainty. despite his lack of knowledge regarding modern cultures, he finds some semblance of comfort in learning more alongside you.

“there’s no harm in checking,” zhongli says, stretching his arms above his head. “i quite like the sound of that for breakfast.”

he catches your stare and bites back a smile. the curl of his lips looks somewhat sportive, and though you wonder if the sight of it is enough to color your cheeks, zhongli has a way of noticing your every reaction regardless of whether the saturation seeps onto the surface of your skin. his observation skills come second to none, but the truth is that he just wants to memorize everything about you.

“good morning,” he says, fondly.

your smiles grows even softer. “i love waking up next to you.”

“enough to stay in bed for another five minutes?”

“i don’t think you want me to answer that honestly,” you retort, lips lingering against his. “let’s go, my love.”

before you head downstairs, you grab a hat hanging on the hook behind your bedroom door. zhongli made it for you a couple of birthdays ago, and the craftsmanship impressed you so much that you might have believed he purchased it for an absurd amount if you didn’t know he always leaves his wallet at home. whenever you chide him, zhongli laughs, perhaps a touch wistfully, as if he’s used to hearing it, or did once upon a time.

“she’s beautiful,” you murmur, carefully approaching the plum tree in the far corner of your yard.

zhongli hears you perfectly well, but selfishly, he moves closer. “takes after you.”

“must you fluster me so early in the morning?”

“forgive my forwardness,” Zhongli says knowingly, the corners of his mouth curling upward. “to prevent any more accidents, i’ll bite my tongue until lunch.”

a few months back, you ended up with a sprained ankle after a compliment from him sent you spiraling down the same tree. fortunately, it only resulted in a sprained ankle, but zhongli hovered until your recovery. you seemed so undeterred by your injuries that he felt a bit silly for worrying as much as he did, though you assured him that you appreciated his concern.

“that wasn’t entirely your fault,” you say, holding out a hand.

zhongli reaches for it, intertwining your fingers before tugging you toward him. “as opposed to all the other times i’ve inadvertently caused you to fall out of a tree?”

“now it sounds personal.”

“does it?”

“what, fifteen months in quarantine and you’re already sick of having me around?”

“who’s to say i wasn’t sick of you after three?”

“you wound me,” you say, pretending to check the time on the nonexistent watch strapped to your wrist. “forever seems like a long time now, huh?”

with another laugh, zhongli circles his arms around your waist. despite your grievances, the fruits in your garden remind him of you. ever-changing through the seasons with glimpses of good days and bad, but always so resilient when it matters most. he wishes he could say the same about himself.

“have you ever had osmanthus wine?” zhongli asks, startling even himself with the suddenness of his question.

you only tilt your head with a smile. “i’ve never even heard of it.”

“i don’t remember how it tastes,” zhongli admits. “but i think i njoyed it once.”

zhongli wonders when he shifted from existing to enduring, or when the anger numbed to ache. moments that became memories, memories that became part of him, and parts of him that faded into the abyss. the great rex lapis withers like devilwood, for erosion is not an instantaneous process.

it takes and takes and takes some more, a gradual diminution of all the things that make him, of all that is him. the man once known for his many monikers, respected by the people who served him and the people he served, had been prepared to surrender his future to a past that would inevitably catch up.

“let’s plant it.”

zhongli feels his breath hitch, but there’s nothing teasing about your expression as you stare at him with that same smile, earnestly encouraging him to revisit a piece of his past. despite all that you don’t know, you can tell he feels strongly about it, if only because zhongli never speaks without purpose.

he nearly lost that part of him, too. finding his place in a world that has outgrown magic seemed improbable, if not impossible, but then he met you. zhongli can’t say what he did to deserve it. he saved lives and took lives, loved and lost. loved again, then lost again, and in the centuries since, severed his ties to celestia.

zhongli had always known so much about even the most arbitrary things—all things—but for the first time in several centuries, he knew next to nothing about anything. navigating the unknown, learning new talents, and practicing hobbies that used to seem so inconsequential became infinitely more intricate without his powers.

the geo archon using a shovel? he is actually quite fond of it now, thanks in no small part to you.

“i’d like that,” zhongli says, then pauses. “do you even know where to get osmanthus seeds?”

“i can probably find a shop online.”

“itzy?”

“etsy,” you rectify, burying your smile into his shoulder.

zhongli frowns. “that’s what i said.”

“itzy is a group of singers,” you say, shaking your head with a chuckle when his face further contorts in confusion. “we can explore pandora’s box another day, if you’re up for it.”

zhongli feels that distinct warmth even after you pull away from him. as you peer at the plum tree, searching for the best spot to climb, he recites the same prayers once uttered with his name. if this life is his last, he wants to thank whoever allowed him to spend it so simply, and spend it with you.