#I still have to officially decide what tag I’m gonna put this au under

[the-city-kitty]

Hbnngg I said to myself I wasn’t gonna post about my AU’s until I actually finished some stuff for it (proof, pudding, whatnot) but I’m impatient and I’m more than halfway done with the first draft of the prologue for my mute!Leo au! And aaaaaa I can’t help myself I’m excited. This post isn’t really to say much about it other than that I’m doing it and I’m excited about it and hopefully the prologue will be up in the few days

[cno-inbminor]

immergo

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

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

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

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

word count: 21.9k (this is a monster)

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

edit: now crossposted onto AO3 here!

-

You are five years old when you first meet him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Apologies accepted, you dummies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Iwa-chan is being mean, I’m not--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise that you’ll never leave me.”

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

“I promise.”

And his lips crash onto yours.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I kissed (y/n).”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“But why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s just no way.

-

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

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

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

“He’s worried about you, y’know?”

“I know.”

“He misses you.”

“I know.”

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

“...which one?”

“The kiss.”

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

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

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

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

This time, Iwaizumi is confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know I am.”

Silence.

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

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

“Tooru, wake up.”

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

“Tooru, wake up. I have food.”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have a girlfriend now, guys!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Becauseimtooobsessedwithvolleyball,” he mutters quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, three times. No, four.”

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

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

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

“Can I help?”

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

“Good riddance.”

“Stoooppp!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, dude, calm down--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But did you like it?”

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

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

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

“So can I please kiss you?”

What?

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

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

And you can’t help but nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re okay, right?”

You nod. Don’t we have to be?

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“...say what now?”

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

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

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

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

“Tell your girlfriend I said hi!”

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sounds good. see you then.”

“see you guys xx”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it has been.”

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

Oikawa does his best to stay true to his word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m so fucking in love with (y/n).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t do that! I—”

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

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

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

“…yeah.”

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

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

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

“We can come help you if you want.”

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

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

“It’s exactly what I think.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tooru!”

“Okay, okay, fine~.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was this going to be his last chance?

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

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

“Tooru, we need to eat dinner though.”

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

“That doesn’t make any sense though.”

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

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

“Mmm…did you make it?”

“Yes, I did.”

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

“Not at all.”

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

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

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

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

“A few years sounds like forever though.”

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

“I know, but…”

“But what?”

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

“Tooru, what—”

“I love you, (y/n).”

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

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

“(Y/n), please—”

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

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

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

“(Y/n), I—”

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

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

“Tooru, you—”

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

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

“You’d still be my everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I still call you?”

“Of course, you big wuss,” you tease.

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

“You need to leave soon, Tooru.”

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

“Tooru—”

“Only if you kiss me before I leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good night, (y/n). I love you.”

Yes, it’s amazing how lucky you are.

-

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

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

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

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

“Mom…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

(epilogue)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”I’m home, (y/n).”

-

fin.

[justanotherkpopmultislut]

Title: “I’ve always wanted to be kissed under the rain.” with Kim Mingyu

Genre: Mafia AU, angst to fluff

Warnings: mentions of snipers and character death (not main characters)

Notes: check out my fanfic prompt generator game and be sure to tag me if you write something :)

“You know you shouldn’t be here alone right?” A voice behind me spoke, tapping my shoulder, just as I quickly grabbed hold of their wrist. “Woah, chill.”

I rolled my eyes and let go immediately, “I’m not alone, Mingyu. I can protect myself.”

“Your lack of security says otherwise.” He shrugged, taking a sip out of his coffee. “You should know you’re a big target, Princess. You’re the Don’s only daughter.”

We stared at each other in a brief silence, listening to the rain outside, almost forgetting we were in a public coffee shop. Forgetting our families hated each other. I quickly broke eye contact and gripped my pen and journal harder.

“Will you be hurting me Kim Mingyu?” I finally spoke with a dejected sigh, looking up at him.

“Never.” He responded immediately.

“Good. Now take a seat before Seulgi and Irene puts a bullet in your head for blocking their view of me.”

He hesitated a bit before taking the seat in front of me. “Just so you know, I’m only sitting because I can’t digest my coffee standing up and not because I’m scared of their accurate sniping skills.”

Ignoring him, I listened to the cafe’s lowfi playlist playing in the background with the rain pouring outside, while continuing to write in my journal.

“I’ve always wanted to be kissed under the rain.” He mumbled out loud, staring out the window onto the wet streets.

“I’m sure you can ask one of your many admirers.” I retorted.

“But they’re not you.”

My heart stopped. I slowly looked up from my journal and saw him already staring at me with that stupid look he always has on his face. “Mingyu-“

“-Hey, we have to leave.” Seulgi interrupts, helping me pack my stuff, while glaring at Mingyu. “Code blue. The deal went wrong because of the Kim’s and your location is clearly compromised. Irene has the car out front—let’s go.”

“You lied to me.” I faltered, allowing Seulgi to pull me up into a standing position. “You said you’d never hurt me.”

His eyes widen in confusion, “What are you-“

“We gotta go now.” Seulgi pulled me away. “You’re lucky Irene is in the car and that this is a safe zone Kim.”

All I could hear was Mingyu calling out my name as the rain fell down harder, repelled by the umbrella Seulgi held up for us. Seulgi hopped into the back seat with me and buckled in my seatbelt. I felt her squeeze my hand as both her and Irene kept trying to ask me questions, but I couldn’t hear them. What were they saying? Where are we going? Why would the Kims kill my father? 

—

Four days after the funeral, my older brother decided his first official act of business as Don was to end the feud with the Kims. He had received verified intel that cleared the Kims of our father’s murder and instead, discovered an up and rising crime family to be responsible. Specifically, they had plotted to start a war between the two most powerful families in the city and once both sides were weakened, they would take over the city. Very ambitious for a group of rising amateurs. However, as much of a reach their plan may have been, they had the numbers. What they didn’t account for (besides my brother finding out) was for the union of those two powerful families. A steadfast alliance through a fast-tracked arranged marriage between Kim Mingyu and I.

“You know you shouldn’t be out here alone right?” A voice behind me spoke, making me immediately turn around and relax at the sight of my worried fiancé. I turned back to face the dimly lit garden. “Seulgi and Irene are supposed to be with you at all times, so why are you alone again?”

“It was getting stuffy inside.” I mumbled, playing with the tulle fabric of my blush pink gown. I failed to notice the awe-struck gaze he had on his face as he saw my face illuminated by the fairy lights his sister-in-law hung up on the gazebo.

“I can’t believe you came out without a coat, you’re gonna get sick.” He frowns, immediately taking his coat off and placing the warm fabric around my bare shoulders. “It started sprinkling just as I started walking towards you.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a smile, “Would you sit with me for a moment?” He immediately nodded and sat besides me on the wooden bench. “Seulgi and Irene are never far. They know me more than my family does and I consider them to be my best friends. One thing I really love about them is that they respect my need for space and alone time. It’s just a coincidence you’re always catching me without them by my side.”

“Still, one too many times.” He held. “I know they’re the best body guards I could ask for to protect you, but we’re to be married in a week and you’ll have a bigger target on your head...” He slightly paused, as if afraid I would run off at the mention of the ‘m’ word. “I’d like to add three more guards for your protection.”

“I-“

“They’ll only be necessary when you leave our home and I’ll let Irene and Seulgi have the final decision on who the three will be.” He interrupted, leaving me in shock.

“How did you know-“

“I have been crushing on you since you went against an entire group of Shakespeare fanatics to argue that Romeo and Juliet portrayed toxic relationships in our literature class.”

I gasped in realization, “That was before I knew you were a Kim. Did you know who I was?” He shook his head with a blush, as I continued looking at him in awe. We sat in silence with the gazebo protecting us from the light shower of rain, my gaze on him and his everywhere else but meeting mine. “You defended me that day against that diehard Shakespearean guy... I had the biggest crush on you after that.”

“And then our families became enemies...” He sadly smiled. “I never stopped liking you though. I just kept holding onto the fact that we both had nothing to do with the family business, since we have older brothers... I always made sure none of our plans involved hurting you directly and especially now, that we’re getting married, I promise that I will continue to protect you and-”

I suddenly stood up and held my hand out, “Come with me.”

“Uh okay.” He followed, very confused when we left the safety of the dry gazebo and immediately got pelted with rain. And so, I dragged him towards our engagement party his brother threw for us, stopping midway in the garden and smiled up at him. “Why are we stopping? We’re getting wet and you’re gonna get sick!”

Standing on the tip of my toes, I pull his head down towards my face with my arms around his neck. “Kim Mingyu, may I have this kiss?” I wasn’t prepared for the look on his stupid, pretty face be filled with literal heart eyes that immediately lit up. It made me forget about the rain. Forget about the fact that this was only the first of many kisses we would share in our lifetime. Because in this moment, only we existed together. And Kim Mingyu would finally get his kiss under the rain.

[galli-writes]

(Click here to read on Ao3!)

fandom: Teen Titans

pairing: BBRae

genre/warnings: AU - Canon Divergence; Implied/Referenced Abuse, Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, Graphic Depictions of Violence

additional tags: Angst, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions

summary:

There are a few things that Beast Boy knows for certain:

He’s 21….and a total lightweight. He’s a vegan (but not like…a pretentious vegan). He’s not going to be single forever.

And the Teen Titans are the only family he’ll ever need.

a/n: Hello! I am bad at updating. Please forgive my sins.

Chapter 6: The Invitation (words 5,129)

The TV buzzed in the background, images flashing against the rising sun. Beast Boy stared at the screen without really looking at it as he poured some orange juice into a glass at the kitchen counter. His hand shook ever so slightly as he took a sip, and he tried to convince himself it was purely from a lack of sleep. But he knew that was only part of the problem at best. As he looked around the room, he locked eyes with the eerie monkey statue, still on display, and put his glass down with a hard swallow.

Beast Boy never brought up Galtry. Raven hadn’t mentioned him either, though that was probably less intentional. Even so, with each day that passed, his conviction only grew stronger. It had to have been Galtry. It just made sense. Didn’t it?

Beast Boy set his glass back down on the counter--and it was a good thing too, because if he had still been holding onto it when the doorbell rang, it definitely would have shattered on the floor.

Everything in the room went still for a moment. At the other end of the counter, Robin suddenly looked up from his phone, finishing off a bite of french toast. Cyborg had turned away from the TV, looking toward the door and then down at a screen on his arm in mild confusion.

“Uh...Well damn.”

“What is it?” Robin asked, already starting to get up to answer the door.

“I’m looking at the cam now,” Cyborg continued. “Whoever that was, they sure left in a hell of a hurry.”

Beast Boy tried to turn his attention to the TV again, and was able to do so with some effort. Above him, men and women wearing either red or blue aprons dashed around a kitchen at full speed. Pumpkins and fall leaves decorated the scene. A smiling scarecrow was pegged in the corner next to one woman’s prep station. At that moment, the host was asking a contestant about her pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls, which were already in the oven. It wasn’t the most creative approach to the challenge, but it was only the first round. So playing it safe was still acceptable.

Then the screen cut to commercial. Beast Boy looked back down at the counter, suddenly shoved back into reality. A reality that became all the more treacherous when he heard Robin returning--and heading his direction.

“Who was it?” Cyborg asked casually, turning back to the TV.

“I’m...not sure,” Robin said slowly. “But they left this. Beast Boy--”

“Huh?” Beast Boy nearly jumped, feeling Robin next to him now.

“It’s...for you.”

“Me? ”

Robin handed him a small card, which he took willingly despite himself. His name was unmistakably clear on the front flap. Well, not his name, but the name of someone he knew was supposed to be him. Galtry’s name wasn’t present, but it was clearly his handwriting--an elegant cursive Beast Boy had regrettably memorized by now. Even so, he had to squint to make out the words on the front of the card. He flipped it over. In slightly more legible text, there was a time and address. The lack of a date could only imply today.

“Any idea what it is?” Robin asked.

Beast Boy knew his curiosity was well warranted, but he froze under Robin’s expectant gaze.

“I mean....it kinda looks like an invitation or something,” Beast Boy said, trying to avoid eye contact. “But I’m not sure how we’re supposed to RSVP.” He managed a small, unconvincing laugh.

“Do you know who it’s from?” Robin continued, in the same awfully unassuming tone.

“No.” Beast Boy shrugged, pocketing the card. “I don’t.”

And that wasn’t technically a lie.

***

The forecast for the night showed more rain—this time enough to warrant a flood watch. Residents of certain parts of the city were advised to stay inside and avoid driving altogether.  Unfortunately, this didn’t apply to the restaurant they were to meet Galtry at. Of course it had been decided that Beast Boy wouldn’t be going alone, and for that he was grateful. In truth, he didn’t really want to go at all. But given the circumstances, Robin had decided the matter was ‘probably worth looking into.’ And Beast Boy knew better than to disagree.

In his room, Beast Boy knelt before a pile of clothes, rummaging through them without a clear goal. He didn’t know what he was going to wear--what he was supposed to wear for something like this. Probably something pretty nice if he was going off of Galtry’s handwriting alone.

Eventually, he came to the decision that the clothes on the floor were too wrinkled anyway. And when he couldn’t find anything reasonable in the closet, he turned to the dresser in desperation. He barely kept any clothes in there, but there had to be something . He yanked open the bottom drawer with some effort, finding nothing but a collection of mismatched socks, useless knick knacks--and a picture frame he’d intended to keep buried.

The picture was of course the same as it had been the last time he’d seen it. His own dark, disheveled hair contrasting with his mother’s blond waves. His father’s tight smile and focused gaze. When he was younger, people had always told him he ‘had his father’s eyes’. So dark they were nearly black. Beast Boy caught a flash of his reflection in the glass frame. His eyes were still quite dark, but in the light they betrayed a subtle green glint.

He frowned. With a new sense of purpose, Beast Boy got up, the frame tight in his grip as he turned his back on the mess surrounding him.

In the common room, he quickly found a small box of trinkets with ample space to house the frame. Using some discarded bubble wrap, he neatly repacked the picture, tucking it away next to some old books. Beast Boy glanced around the room, searching for something he could use to seal the box up for good. With a few carelessly ripped off pieces of packing tape, he folded the box shut and shoved it back with the rest of them.

And immediately afterward, a stream of guilt flooded over him.

One curse at a time, he ripped off more and more tape to finish off the rest of the packages before he changed his mind. With some effort, he pushed them into a neat pile at one end of the room. He would have to ask Dr. Galtry—whoever he was—to come have them picked up as soon as possible.

“What’re you doing?”

Beast Boy jumped slightly, taken off guard by the sound of someone’s voice. He took a breath to steady himself and turned around.

It was only Raven.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Just...cleaning.”

Raven simply raised an eyebrow in uninterested disbelief. She was standing next to the fridge with a can of ginger ale in one hand and a hefty book in the other. Neither of those things were particularly remarkable for Raven.

But what was strange was the way she was dressed. Opposed to her usual baggy sweaters and leggings, she was wearing jeans and a cardigan over a blouse he’d never seen before. It even looked like she might be wearing makeup. Real makeup that had clearly taken more effort than her everyday eyeliner.

“So I guess you heard about dinner tonight, right?” he asked only now realizing he was staring.  

“Yeah. Sucks for you guys,” Raven said plainly, taking a sip of her soda.

“What do you mean?” Beast Boy said, genuinely puzzled for a moment. “You ’re not coming with us?”

“I have...plans.”  

Beast Boy eyed the book in her hand. “Sitting in your room reading doesn’t count as plans.”

“ Real plans,” she said defiantly, tossing the now empty can in the recycling.

“Well you’ll have to reschedule,” another voice said suddenly, short and stern.

Beast Boy and Raven both turned around to find the rest of their friends approaching from the nearest hallway, Robin at the lead.

“I can’t,” Raven replied, her tone just as sharp and uncompromising.

But Robin didn’t budge. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, arms crossed against his chest. “But this is official Titans business, and you know what takes precedence. That’s all I’m gonna say about it.”

Raven frowned, but she didn’t put her book down. She merely stuffed it into her purse, which was much too small to properly contain it.

“Uh...car’s all ready out back,” Cyborg said, gesturing to the garage with some hesitation.

Raven sulked past them without a word, not even bothering to try and call shotgun.

The drive was awkward and uncomfortable. At least for Beast Boy.

At some point he realized Starfire was talking to him about the latest Netflix series she’d been binging. It was a clear effort to distract from the all consuming depressive aura of the back row. Beast Boy nodded at the appropriate moments, but couldn’t even remember the name of the show two minutes into the conversation.  

Raven didn’t look up from her book once during the entire trip. But it was obvious she was only pretending. Beast Boy couldn’t help but notice that she never once turned the page--and Raven was a fast reader. He didn’t mean to notice the slip of paper tucked between the pages--didn’t mean to see what was scribbled on it. The messy, half-cursive script was almost illegible, but it was clearly a reminder of some sort. A date, a place, a time--the last of which was circled aggressively in dark ink.  Beast Boy made a conscious effort to try and stare straight ahead. He didn’t want to be caught staring again. But of course, it was hard not to notice things like that when you were sitting right next to someone.

What plans did Raven have? ...Not that it mattered to him, of course. Whatever Raven did in her free time wasn’t any of his business, really. Even still, it was hard not to wonder what could be important enough to pull the world’s biggest introvert out of her room. In an actual put-together outfit no less. Then, for a brief moment, a disarming thought flitted through his mind. Hypothetically, in a world where Raven actually dated people, it would probably be safe to assume that she would never tell any of them about it. And why should she? But more importantly why should any of them care ? He didn’t.

Of course, the thought was utter nonsense to begin with. Raven had always made it abundantly clear that she had no interest in being in a relationship. Unless of course she’s been lying.  

Beast Boy began to feel a pit forming in his stomach for the millionth time that week. Just letting his mind wander as far as it had made him feel guilty--like he was prying into things that were none of his business. He tried to shift his train of thought to something-- anything --else beyond the uncomfortable terrain he’d stumbled into. And he didn’t know why it was so uncomfortable. Maybe it was because now he couldn’t stop thinking about the state of his own love life. At least Raven had the angsty brooding down pat. Any time he felt bad for himself--which was a little too often for his liking--he imagined he looked less like the lead singer of a pop punk band and more like a toddler who’d spilled their cheerios in the backseat of mom’s minivan. Right now he would have leaned up against the window and stared into the coming downpour like someone in an early 2000s music video...had he not been stuck in the middle seat again.

As they drove, Robin talked briefly of a ‘plan’ he’d been constructing in the event that things went south. Starfire and Cyborg seemed engaged enough, hyping themselves up for what they’d decided was going to either be a five star meal or an equally satisfying smackdown. But Beast Boy couldn’t find it in him to join them. Outside, the rain was picking up fast. The gray clouds above had brought on the night of their own accord, and even the thousands of city lights couldn’t entirely pierce through the darkness. Beast Boy slunk down further in his seat, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. In doing so, he realized abruptly that he had never actually changed clothes, and a familiar card was still tucked away in his pocket. Unfortunately, no amount of fiddling would make it disappear.

It was easy to recognize when they’d arrived at their destination. The traffic came to a complete stop, as cars—and even a limo or two—fought for a spot on the narrow strip of asphalt in front of the shimmering building before them. People poured out of the vehicles like liquid gold, as men in suits and women with designer handbags scrambled for the attention of the underpaid valet workers.

“Well this looks like...fun,” Cyborg said, hands gripping the wheel tighter, despite the utter standstill.

“I think we might be a little under dressed,” Robin said, peeking out the window and then down at his jeans and flannel. He sounded much less like a boy about to embarrass his family at the yacht club and much more like a detective who was going to blow his cover.

“Well I guess it’s too late for that now,” Cyborg said, automatically pulling up in line next to a man dressed in valet attire weilding a crisp black umbrella.

“Good evening, sir. May I have the name of your party?”

“Uh...” Cyborg hesitated.

Without thinking, Beast Boy reached for the card in his pocket. In a matter of seconds it had acquired some impressively deep folds and a slight tear in one corner, but it was still easily readable and recognizable. He leaned forward and silently passed it to the man like he’d been rehearsing the action for months.

The man’s eyes widened instantly. “Oh, of course. Dr. Galtry has been expecting you.”

A brief moment of silence hung in the air between them as Cyborg continued to grip the wheel.

Beast Boy stared straight ahead. The tension was palpable. For everyone else, the sound of Galtry’s name must have conjured some form of excitement. Good or bad. Some sense of progress in unearthing a mystery. For Beast Boy it only stirred up the guilt surrounding how much he’d withheld.

“If you would—“ the man said, clearing his throat slightly. He nodded toward the driver’s seat as he spoke. “I would be happy to take care of your vehicle.”

“I...uh,” Cyborg hesitated again, his hands gripping the steering wheel even tighter.

“That would be great, thanks,” Robin interjected from the other side. Cyborg shot him a quick look of doubt, but it was quickly followed by a sigh of resignation as he let go of the wheel.

From the safety of the covered curb, Beast Boy watched with his friends as the man stepped into the driver’s seat and fumbled for a moment with the controls.

“Be safe, baby,” Cyborg half whispered as the car disappeared into the fray. And despite all of the nerves clouding his mind, Beast Boy couldn’t help holding back a smile, patting his friend on the shoulder in consolation.

The inside of the restaurant was just as extravagant as the exterior suggested, even more so as the former had certainly been dulled by the weather. Immediately upon entering through the crystal double doors, Beast Boy found himself brushing shoulders with men and women who looked like attendees of a red carpet after party. The entire building—which was completely packed beyond any sense of personal space—was littered with dark wooden tables, velvet curtains, and chandeliers. Light bounced around the room off silver plates and platters carried around by elegantly dressed waitstaff. Even from the distance of the foyer, the scene was simultaneously beautiful and nauseating.

“The party for Dr. Galtry?” A young woman’s voice rang out from behind a tall podium in the corner of the entryway. “We have you in our private dining--” the woman started, pausing as she looked up to meet the group before her. Her eyes grew wide and a clearly unscripted smile came across her face. She had to be in her late teens or early twenties--and was one of the youngest people in the room.

“Sorry,” she said, the smile still on her face. Her brilliant emerald jewelry sparkled as she began to move. “Um...If you’ll just follow me right this way.”

Weaving through the tables turned out to be even more dizzying than just looking at them. And with every step, Beast Boy felt more and more like he was walking straight back into the cave of a hungry beast hoarding its jewels. When they finally came to a halt, it was in front of a large wooden door at the back end of the restaurant. Like the den of a sleeping dragon, this area of the restaurant boasted an even greater number of precious gems and wrinkle lines.

“Dr. Galtry will be waiting for you all inside,” the young woman said, nodding her head slightly.

An awkward beat of silence passed as she continued to stand there without turning to leave, her eyes darting down to her feet.

“Sorry, I know this is like, super unprofessional, and I know you guys are busy, but I was just wondering...if I could maybe get an autograph?” she said quietly, the words spilling out a million miles an hour. She was looking up now, and despite referring to the entire group, it was clear her attention rested on Starfire.

“Certainly!” Starfire smiled.

As if by magic, a small receipt notepad and chewed up pen had already appeared in the young woman’s hands.

“I love your bracelet by the way,” Starfire beamed, taking the pad of paper and beginning to doodle on it.

“Oh, this?” the girl laughed nervously. “Thanks. I mean, it’s nothing really.”

Starfire handed the paper back with a smile, the pad now feverishly adorned with hearts and stars surrounding her signature.

The young woman seemed to be beside herself with joy. She managed another clumsy string of thank yous before disappearing into the crowd again.

There was another long silence.

“I hate it here,” Raven said abruptly, shattering any lingering sentiments of the preceding interaction.

The look on Starfire’s face was more than enough of a response.

“I’m not talking about the girl,” Raven huffed.

Beast Boy looked around. It was true. The suspicious glares were more than enough to tell that the rest of the diners weren’t fans. Maybe coming here had been a mistake.

“Is it really--? Oh, yes, finally!”

Beast Boy blinked hard, a smooth but animated voice bringing him back into the room.

“I’m so glad that you all agreed to meet me here,” a man said, approaching them eagerly.

Suddenly everything seemed to blur. The motion of the restaurant became nothing more than a swirling backdrop of light. For the third time that night, Beast Boy caught himself staring. He looked just like his picture. Too perfect to be real--and yet there he was. Black hair, dark eyes, perfect smiling complexion. The only indicator of his age was the shadow of graying stubble around his chin--and even that looked somehow manicured and intentional. But he walked and talked and was standing right before them just like any other human being. It felt like being in a dream. Or a nightmare.  

“I’m so sorry. I had to step outside to make a phone call,” the man continued. “Galtry. Dr. Nicholas Galtry,” he said, proceeding to shake each of their hands with an unprecedented force. “Really, it is an honor meeting the rest of you.”

“The...rest of us?” Robin asked, wiping his palm on his pant leg.

The man stopped short, a look of pure bewilderment washing over his face. “Oh...don’t tell me you didn’t get my letter?” As he spoke, he turned to look at Beast Boy directly.

“So you’re the letter guy?” Cyborg said, with a somewhat forced laugh.

“I had hoped Garfield might at least mention my name,” Galtry said, slowly.

For a moment, Beast Boy felt the same sense of crippling guilt returning, coupled with the discomfort of hearing his ‘name’ spoken aloud by someone he didn’t know. Or didn’t know well . He was still deciding.

“Well, I’m sure you all must be tired, called out like this on such short notice,” Galtry continued. “Again, all of my apologies, but I just couldn’t wait any longer to speak to you. Here, let’s go inside, shall we?”

The private dining room certainly was private. Almost to the point of being soundproof, which Beast Boy found to be more of a concern than a comfort. Robin automatically sat the closest to Galtry, which was unsurprising but still a relief. Beat Boy opted for a spot in the middle of the long table, where he reasoned he would be least likely to garner extra attention from their host.

Just then, the door swung open again, and another member of the wait staff entered to pour water into the intricate crystal glasses before them. He then proceeded to take drink orders—a cherry coke for Beast Boy and pinot grigio for Dr. Galtry.

“So,” Galtry said, swirling his wine like he was on the cover of a food magazine. “I understand you all have been on Arsenal’s trail for some time now.”

The room went still. Until, of course, Robin eventually broke the silence.

“Arsenal?”

The question would have sounded redundant on anyone else’s lips. But Robin said it with such confidence that it was Galtry who looked embarrassed.

“Oh. Of course. I’m sorry. I had assumed you were familiar with them.”

As one waiter exited, two more replaced him, setting various cutting boards piled high with expensive cheeses and sausages down the center of the table. Galtry sliced a piece of smooth white cheese off the cutting board, spreading it on a piece of toast without even looking down. “They’ve been causing me trouble ever since I first got here.”

“You sound like you know ‘em,” Cyborg said, his eyes resting on Galtry as he skewered his own kebab of sausage rounds.

“Unfortunately,” Galtry grumbled, mostly to himself. “They’ve been after some research of mine for some time now. I don’t pretend to know why. I’m not sure they would even know what to do with it if they were to get a hold of it.”

“What exactly are you researching?” Robin asked tentatively.

Galtry looked up at him suddenly, an expression akin to embarrassment flashing once more across his face. He was clearly not the type of man accustomed to having to introduce himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, aren’t I?” he cleared his throat. “I haven’t even properly introduced myself. That’s what happens when you frequent limited social circles your entire adult life,” he said with a short laugh. “Right now I hold a position as Research Chair for the department of Genomics at the University of Pretoria. I primarily conduct research regarding the development of new gene therapy technologies.”

“Why would the genes need therapy?” Starfire asked, already on her second round of charcuterie.  

Galtry fought back a bemused smile. “It’s not literal. Though that would be something, wouldn’t it? It’s a type of medical procedure,” he explained. “The sort of thing that would help us treat genetic disorders like cystic fibrosis or even reverse the production of cancer cells. The details are a bit...complicated,” he said thoughtfully, looking into his glass.

“As for my being here in Jump City, I admit it’s a bit of a surprise even to me. The U.S. Northeastern Scientific Board regularly invites me to present my work at their annual symposium, which is usually held in Gotham. But I understand there’s been somewhat of a crime spike there recently. And criminals do love the smell of science they don’t understand,” he said with a sardonic smile.

“You’ll have to excuse me for being so blunt,” Robin interjected. “But what does this have to do with us exactly?”

“Well that's a simple question with a rather complicated answer,” Galtry said, a slight frown coming across his face. “The less complicated aspect has to do with Arsenal themself. When I learned that they had found some opposition after following me to the states, I knew I would have to meet with whoever was tracking them. Lucky for me it turns out you all are pretty famous around here.”

“Well I wouldn’t say famous ,” Cyborg said, barely pulling off airs of humility.  

The doors swung open a third time as if on cue, this time letting loose a small string of waiters, each steering a cart laden with different shapes and sizes of covered plates. One was placed in front of each person at the table with expert precision and lifted dramatically to reveal the contents. Beast Boy was more than surprised to find that his dish was completely different than everyone else’s—stuffed mushrooms that looked like they’d been specially prepared. He didn’t remember mentioning that he was a vegan, and had the harrowing thought that maybe he had reached a stage where people knew without asking.

“So how do you know Beast Boy?” Starfire asked, head tilting slightly to one side like a puppy.

It was the question Beast Boy had been dying to hear the answer to--though he knew he would have been incapable of asking it.

“Of course. That’s the other half of the matter. And a bit more complicated,” Galtry said, rubbing his hands together meditatively. “The simple answer is that I was a friend of his parents’. Back during their tenure at the University of Pretoria.” There was a soft smile on his face, but it didn’t seem to exude any kind of joy. “Small world, isn’t it?”

“But all of those artifacts...all of their belongings--you sent those?” Robin tried to clarify.

Galtry nodded. “After their unfortunate passing, I was designated Garfield’s legal guardian by the court that sorted their affairs. They were always very private people, and I was the closest acquaintance they had. Their son was supposed to inherit their entire fortune--the only problem being...well...no one knew where you were,” he said, looking directly at Beast Boy now. “Seeing as you had still been under close medical watch at the time of your disappearance, it was the general belief that you had died somewhere in the jungle shortly afterward. But because there was never any actual proof of that being the case, the money was never dispersed by the government or anyone else. Instead it’s in a bit of a state of limbo held by those same officials—where it’s been utterly useless given the circumstances.”

Galtry looked down at the table, shaking his head. “I had just about given up hopes of ever finding Garfield—you wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to find someone once they’ve essentially erased their given name from their identity. Even through legal means. Surprisingly, the small detail of him being green didn’t help very much either,” Galtry said with a small laugh. “I only recently learned it was even an aspect of his...condition. The side effect hadn’t quite developed completely before he disappeared.”

Galtry spoke to his friends as if this was knowledge Beast Boy had always possessed and merely neglected to share with them, which, as far as he knew, was not the case. Though the historic tirade made him wonder just how much of his life he had forced himself to forget.  

Galtry shook his head once more. “There were always flitting rumors of what had really happened to the Logans’ son, but I was always too stubborn to believe them.” A small ironic smile crept over his face as he looked directly at Beast Boy. “You have to understand. I’ve dedicated my entire life to the sciences. And, quite frankly, your very existence seems to defy its most basic principles.”

The silence that followed was unlike any other that had filled the air that night. There was a certain quality to it that went beyond discomfort. Beast Boy felt himself instinctively clench the sides of his chair as he struggled to keep his expression neutral. Galtry’s words felt eerily like a compliment, and somehow that made things worse.

Robin cleared his throat suddenly, making a point to stand from his seat. “Thanks for the meal, it was really delicious. But this is all a lot to take in. We’ll need a little more time as a team to consider whether or not we can help you.”

“I completely understand,” Galtry said with a smile. “Especially considering we’ve only just met.” He folded his hands in front of him, like a compassionate leader about to make a compromise with some of his disheveled citizens. “If you all would like to know more about what it is I do, I would be more than happy to show you around my lab this weekend. Perhaps a better understanding of my work would convince you?”

“We’ll have to think about it,” Robin repeated in the same definitive tone.

“Of course,” Galtry said automatically. As if this were a dance he’d done many times before. “Here,” he rose from his seat. “For now the least I can do is see you off.”

The man known to them as Nicholas Galtry made his way through the door, exiting the restaurant the way they’d come in. But this time, Beast Boy noticed that it wasn’t the green skin and glowing eyes or robotic arms and legs that captured everyone’s attention. It was Galtry. The doors were opened for them as if on cue, valets and restaurant staff trailing behind them without Galtry so much as lifting a finger. When they got to the outside of the restaurant, Cyborg’s car was already there, running and ready to go.

“I could really use your help,” Galtry said, passing the keys from the valet’s hand to Cyborg’s. “I hope I’ll be hearing from you soon.”  

The second they were in the car, the doors shut tight behind them and a quiet voice broke the heavy silence.

“Did I mention I hate it here?” Raven mumbled, the first words she’d said since they’d met Galtry. The only words she’d said all night.

Beast Boy didn’t say it, but he had been thinking the same thing. Though maybe hate wasn’t the right word. Not exactly.

He turned to look out the back seat window, and watched as Galtry watched them drive away.

[khoicesbyk]

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 3,680 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

Song And Story Inspiration: In The Still Of The Nite-Boyz II Men | Give Me One Reason-Tracy Chapman | Nobody’s Supposed To Be Here-Deborah Cox

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @choiceslady @queenjilian @bebepac @txemrn @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @hopefulmoonobject @lucy-268 @pixie88 @otherworldlypresents  @choicesficwriterscreations

TW: kidnapping. Read at your own discretion.

Chapter 5.) In The Still Of The Night.

In the still of the night.

I held you.

Held you tight.

'Cause I love.

Love you so.

Promise I'll never.

Let you go.

In the still of the night.

As she slept peacefully in her new bed, Naia dreamed that she was running through the forest. She felt strong. She felt invincible. She could feel the wind on her face as she ran. It was exhilarating. She felt free. When she came out of the woods, she was a wolf. And when she looked up, she saw him. It was the wolf she had seen in her dreams before. It was him. When he howled she did the same.

That’s when she woke up. She sat up in bed, panting with her heart thundering in her chest. She looked around her room in order to get her bearings. That’s when something compelled her to look out her bedroom window. And when she looked out the window she saw a wolf staring up at her. When she shook her head, the wolf was gone. The image of the wolf was still in her head when she went back to sleep.

After waking up later that morning and taking a good hot shower, Naia couldn’t get Roman out of her head. She wanted to feel his arms wrapped her again. He was seductive and mysterious and she wanted more. She could still feel his warm breath on her neck and the closeness of his body to hers. She thought it was insane but never actually questioned why she thought that way.

When she went to the kitchen for breakfast, she noticed a note on the counter. It was from her uncle.

“Good morning. Gone fishing. Be back later. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. Uncle Z.”

When she opened the fridge, she grimaced because there wasn’t much in there to begin with. When her stomach rumbled she knew she had to change that.

“Okay well since a home cooked breakfast is out of the question. I think I’ll try the breakfast place I saw when I drove into town. Also I’ll do some grocery shopping while I’m at it. Because this right here ain’t hitting on nothing.” She thought to herself.

With keys and wallet in hand Naia set off for town. After shopping at Banner’s Family Market, she was just about starved and stopped by Tucker’s diner.

After getting a table she sat down and looked over the menu. As she looked over the menu, someone was watching her. Or so it looked that way.

I remember.

That night in May.

The stars were bright above.

I'll hope and I'll pray.

To keep.

Your precious love.

At another table, Trent was eating breakfast with a few members of his team when Naia walked in. He felt a pull towards where she was sitting.

“Yo T! What is it?” Jenkins, one of his team members asked.

“I don’t know. Something weird just happened. Like she just walked in.” He replies shaking his head.

“Man! Please tell me that you’re not talking about that so-called dream girl again!” Sergei said to him.

“If you must know, yes I am.”

His crew collectively groaned.

“Dude it’s been almost a whole 2 months! Let it go already!” Hugo told him.

“As I’ve told you idiots before: I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t? Which one is it T?” Jenkins asked him.

Trent never answered. He just sipped his coffee. Even though he’s blind he could feel her presence. After going over the menu for a solid 20 minutes, Naia decided on the Lobster Eggs Benedict and a sweet tea. Just as she was about to put her order in, Layla walked in.

“Layla! Over here!” She called out to her new friend.

Trent nearly dropped his cup of coffee. Hearing her voice in real time both scared and excited him.

“You almost dropped your cup. You okay man?” Jenkins asked him.

“Huh? Yeah! I’m…I’m good.” Trent replied, while trying to hide the crack in his voice. With his hearing being better than most, he tuned into her conversation

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Layla asked Naia as she sat down across from her.

“Since my uncle has gone fishing, I decided to do some grocery shopping and I was starving so here I am. What are you and the little one up to?” Naia replies.

“The same thing as you. Have you ordered yet?” Layla asks.

“Just about to. What about you?” Naia replies.

“Oh girl! They already know what I want. A pitcher each of cranberry juice and ice water, their triple berry cheesecake parfait, double blueberry pancakes and a ham, spinach and swiss omelette.” Layla replied.

Naia’s eyes went wide.

“You’re actually gonna eat all of that?!” She asked.

“I mean…I am eating for two, ya know?” Layla replied, rubbing her belly. The two shared a laugh as they continued their conversation.

Trent turned his attention back to his team just as the twins came strolling in. His boss Bernard Sayre is a blowhard who only cares about 3 things. Making money, being powerfully unstoppable and his twins Dylan and Tyler. The twin terrors as they’re known around town, just love getting their way no matter what they do or say. And although it annoyed Trent, he was powerless to stop them.

“Heyyyyy boys!” Dylan called out to Trent and his team. Her voice sounded like banshee screech.

“And here comes daddy’s two brats…” Jenkins groaned as the twins approached.

“So what are you guys up to?” Tyler asked.

“We’re eating. Why?” Trent asks.

“Because we were hoping that you’d join us at Buck’s for the Friday night sing a long and pool.” Tyler replies.

“You’d have to ask Layla if we’re allowed back in. Especially after what happened the last time.”

The twins groaned.

“Well she’s sitting at a table with some girl. So I guess it’s worth a shot.” Dylan said with a sigh.

Naia watched in amusement and shock, as she watched Layla polish off everything she ordered with ease.

“I can not believe that you ate EVERYTHING!”

“Told you!” Layla replied as she swiped her finger on the inside of her parfait cup.

“Uhhhhh Layla…”

“Huh?” She asked.

“It’s all gone! Put the cup down!” Naia replies.

The two laughed as the twins approached.

“Hiiiiiiiiiii Layla!” They say in unison causing Layla to groan.

“Ohhh and hi Layla’s friend!”

“What do you two want?” She asked the twins.

“Weeeeeellllllllllll…we were hoping you’d let us have Friday sing a long and pool.” Tyler said in a cloyingly sweet voice.

“After the shit you pulled the last time? NO!” Layla hissed at them.

“Come on Layla! Our dad paid for the damage!” Tyler whined.

“Yeah he did…after I threatened to sue his sorry ass!”

“Please!” The twins begged.

Layla rolled her eyes then replied, “fine! You can come tonight.”

“Thank you!” The twins squealed.

“Whatever. Go away!”

“You don’t have to be rude!” Dylan said.

“Which would you rather: me be rude or me ban you two from ever stepping foot into MY bar?” She asked them.

The twins stood stuck.

“I thought so. Now again: go away!”

The twins turned on their heels and stomped away. When they were far enough away for her pleasure, Layla turned her attention back to Naia.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who are they?” Naia asks.

“Tyler and Dylan Sayre. Their dad Bernard owns Sayre Energy and Power. They’re a public nuisance.” Layla replies.

“They look harmless to me.”

“That’s because you haven’t been around them when they’re drunk.”

“Touché.”

“I guess since they’re having Friday sing a long and pool, you should come too.”

“Me?” Naia asks.

“Yes you! It’ll be fun as long as those two aren’t drinking.” Layla replies.

“I don’t know about all of that.”

“Also there’s normally a $1,000.00 cash prize for first place.”

“Why didn't you lead with that?!” Naia asks.

“Because Dylan normally wins because no one wants to challenge her.” Layla replies.

“Well as someone who’s still paying off student loans: Count me in!”

So before the light.

Hold me again.

With all of your might.

In the still of the night.

So before the light.

Hold me again.

With all of your might.

In the still…of the night.

That night at Buck’s the party was in full swing. People were dancing, drinking, playing pool and mingling amongst themselves. Naia stuck close to the bar and Layla as they watched the crowd. And like clockwork, Dylan was drunk and ready to sing her heart out.

“Alright you party animals! Let’s get this sing a long on the road! Now all of you know the rules. First place gets $1,000.00! And since that first place is always me I have nothing to worry about! So hit the music!”

“Ohhh God…” Layla groaned.

“What?!” Naia asks.

“Little Miss Banshee is about to assault our ears and sing Deborah Cox Nobody’s Supposed To Be Here.” Layla replies.

“It can’t be THAT bad, Layla.”

“Wanna bet?” She asks just as Dylan grabbed a mic.

After clearing her throat, Dylan began to sing. Sorta.

How did you get here?

Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

I've spent all my life on a search to find. The love who'll stay for eternity. The heaven sent to fulfill my needs. But when I turn around, again, love has knocked me down. My heart got broken, oh it hurts so bad. I'm sad to say love wins again.

So I placed my heart under lock and key. To take some time to take care of me. But I turn around and you're standing here.

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

This time I swear I'm through. But, if only you knew how many times I've said those words. Then fall again, when will I ever learn? Knowing these tears I cry, this lovely black butterfly. Must take a chance, and spread my wings. Love can make you do some crazy things.

So I placed my heart under lock and key. To take some time to take care of me. But I turn around and you're standing here.

Standing here…

When Dylan got to the bridge, Naia thought her ears would bleed out.

No, nobody, no, no, no, no, no, no, ooh!

No, no, nooooooooo...

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

How did you get here? Nobody's supposed to be here.

I tried that love thing for the last time.

My heart says "No, no." Nobody's supposed to be here.

But you came along and changed my mind.

When she was done, Naia was ready to run out the door screaming.

“Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyy God! That was fucking horrible!”

“Told you.” Layla deadpanned.

“She has to be stopped! What other songs are on that karaoke machine?” Naia asks.

“Hundreds! So if you’re gonna sing, pick one and make it good! That way ears will stop ringing.” Layla replies.

Naia left her seat at the bar and walked over to where the karaoke machine was and went through the list of songs. Doing so, caught the ire of a very drunk Dylan.

“Ummmmmm what do you think you’re doing?!” She asks.

“Picking a song obviously.” She replies over her shoulder.

Dylan huffed.

“You actually think you can beat my melodious voice?” She asks.

“A dead horse can beat your voice. And just like that I found my song.” Naia replies.

“Good luck beating me!” Dylan sneered.

“Watch and learn young grasshopper.”

Naia took the mic and began to sing Give Me One Reason by Tracy Chapman.

Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

Baby I got your number. Oh and I know that you got mine. You know that I called you. I called you many times. You can call me baby. You can call me anytime, you got to call me.

Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Give me one reason to stay here. And I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

I don't want no one to squeeze me. They might take away my life. I don't want no one to squeeze me. They might take away my life. I just want someone to hold me. Oh and rock me through the night.

People started to gather around Naia as she sang. When she looked towards the bar, she winked at Layla. Layla mouthed the words “next drink is on the house.”

This youthful heart can love you. Yes and give you what you need. I said this youthful heart can love you. Oh and give you what you need. But I'm too old to go chasin' you around. Wastin' my precious energy.

Give me one reason to stay here. Yes and I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Give me one reason to stay here. Oh I'll turn right back around. (You can see me turnin') Said I don't want to leave you lonely. You got to make me change my mind.

Baby just give me one reason. Oh give me just one reason why. Baby just give me one reason. Oh give me just one reason why I should stay. Said I told you that I loved you. And there ain't no more to say.

When she finished the applause was thunderous. She had everyone on their feet. When she looked out on the crowd, she saw a visibly angry Dylan. Naia smirked and winked at her, which further infuriated her.

When Naia walked back to the bar, she got the feeling someone was watching her but she didn’t know who that someone was.

“Soooooo…how was that?” Naia asked Layla as she reached the bar.

“AMAZING! Now if you can beat her brother at pool, the bar is on the house.” Layla replied.

“Sold!”

“Well get to it girlie! Because you’ve been eyeing that bottle of tequila over my shoulder since you got here.”

Naia snickered then took off towards the crowd gathered around Tyler. As she went to WB w the crowd was she got the same feeling that she was being watched. And she was indeed being watched. Trent was tuned into her movements even through his blindness.

“Well this looks like fun!” Naia says as she reaches the pool table.

“Go away! Nobody wants you here!” Dylan hissed.

“What’s the matter princess? Scared I’ll beat your brother like I beat you?” Naia teased.

“You can’t beat me!” Tyler huffed.

“Wanna bet?” She asked him.

“Sure. How much are you willing to lose?”

“Since I beat your sister:  $1,000.00.” She replies. She didn’t think he’d take her seriously.

“You’re on! Best 2 out of 3?” He asks.

“Then you’ve got yourself a game.” She replies.

Once the balls were lined up and it was up to her to break. She got stripes while he got solid.

“Let’s go!” She tells him.

The two were evenly matched with the first game going to her and the second going to him. And it all came down to the last game. Naia had an impossible split. Or so that’s what Tyler and the crowd that was gathered around them thought.

“I’ll make you a deal new girl. If you bank this shot, I’ll up the bet from $1,000.00 to $3,000.00.” He said to her.

“Deal!” Naia replies.

Naia tucked a hair that out of place behind her ear, lined up her shot and sank both balls. Beating a very stunned Tyler.

“TAKE! THAT!” She squealed.

“But! But! I…we…” Tyler stammers as he goes pale.

“You lost just like your sister? Yeah I know. Now pay up!” She told him.

That’s when Dylan jumped into Naia’s face.

“You cheated!” She screeched.

“No, your brother ran his mouth and lost. And now he has to pay up. So give me my money!” Naia yelled back.

When Dylan reared back to slap Naia, Trent caught her hand.

“Hey! Let go T!” Dylan yelled.

“We’re not doing this again. Now Tyler pay the lady her money. You know you have it.” Trent said in a stern voice.

There was something about him that caught Naia’s eye.

“My dad will kill me if I pay her!” Tyler whined.

The twins looked at Trent with puppy dog eyes. But he didn’t budge.

“You’re no fun, T!” Tyler whined.

“Don’t care. Now pay her!”

Tyler groaned as he pulled money out of his pocket then handed it to Trent.

“Here!” Tyler pouted.

Trent took the money and handed it to Naia. When their hands touched, it set off a spark inside her. The same kind of spark she felt with Roman.

“Sorry about those two. They don’t know how to lose gracefully.” He said to her.

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for getting my money.” She replied.

Trent turned to the twins then said, “beat it you two! We don’t need anymore trouble.”

The crowd dispersed after the twins huffed then walked out. And Naia found herself back at the bar gushing with Layla.

“Ohhhhhh myyyyyyyyy God! Look at this! I just won $3,000.00!”

“I can't believe you did that! No one has ever beaten the twins. Their dad will be so pissed that they lost that kind of money.”

“In the words of T.I. ‘it ain’t tricking if you got it!’”

They two laughed.

“Okay but in all seriousness, thank you! It’s about time that someone brought those two out of the clouds. So here’s your brand new shiny bottle of tequila!” Layla said as she gave Naia the bottle.

“Thank youuuuuu!” Naia squealed.

Just then Trent called out.

“Layla! Another round?”

Layla groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Who is that?” Naia asked.

“That’s Trent. He works for the twins dad.” Layla replied.

“Is he their bodyguard or something?” Naia asked.

“No but he’s always around when those two cause trouble. Let me go fill their orders.” Layla replies.

“Okay. I’ll be here with my brand new bottle.”

Layla shook her head and headed off towards Trent and his crew. Naia couldn’t help but look the same way. Her eyes instantly went to Trent. He was beautiful and there was something about him that stuck with her.

He enchanted her and what she didn’t know was she did the same for him. After the bar closed, Naia began walking back to her uncle’s house. She got halfway down the street when Trent caught up with her.

“Hey!” He said to her.

“Hi! How are you?” She replied.

“I’m good. You must be new in town. I’m Trent.”

“I know. Layla told me your name. I’m Naia.”

“It’s nice to meet you Naia.”

“Likewise. It’s nice to meet another friendly face outside of Layla and my uncle.“

“It’s dark out here. Mind if I walk you home?” He asked.

“Sure. Especially when I’m not sure which way to go.” She replied.

“Where does your uncle live?” He asked.

“Just outside of town. His house backs up to the woods.” She replied.

Even though it was nighttime, he flashed a smile at her that made her heart leap. As they walked they talked about what their lives were like growing up, what college life was like and past loves. She had just met him but she felt she knew him her whole life. When they got to her uncle’s front door, they weren’t ready to say goodbye.

“So this is me…”

“So it would seem. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

“No thank you. Because I probably would’ve gotten lost and would’ve wandered around the woods for days.”

“I think you would’ve found your way home.”

There was a magnetic pull between them that neither could deny. Before either knew what they were doing, they kissed. It was a slow, sensual and deep  kiss. And when it ended both were desperate for more.

“Wow!”

“What you said.”

“I better get inside.”

“Will I see you again?” He asked.

“Of course. I’ll be here for a while.” She replies.

“Good. Have a good night Naia.”

“Goodnight Trent.”

When she went inside her heart was racing. And she wanted more. She wanted him. This was the exact same way she felt when she kissed Roman.

The next morning after showering, she was in the kitchen fixing herself breakfast. 

Her uncle still hadn’t returned from fishing. She had just sat down to eat her breakfast when the front door swung open. It was a man and a woman. They were two of the people she’d seen with Roman.

“Come! The ceremony awaits you!” He commanded.

“1.) no. 2.) WHAT THE HELL?!” Naia replies.

“We’re wasting time! Come now!” The woman demanded.

“What the hell? Get out!” Naia screamed.

When the woman went to grab Naia, she danced out the way. That’s when the man grabbed Naia and threw her over his shoulder. He dragged her out of the house, with her kicking and screaming.

“Let me go!” She screamed.

She struggled to get free but he was way too strong. She was thrown in the back of a van and a hood was placed over her head. Naia had no idea where they were taking her. And she was terrified of finding out.

[lightsonparkave]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO LIGHTS ON PARK AVE! WE’RE OFFICIALLY A ONE-YEAR-OLD BABY (our birthday was on the 22nd). Join the celebrations by submitting a work! There’s one week left until Round 12 closes on August 31, and you have 80 prompts to choose from. There are no minimum work requirements or limit to how many works you can submit.

Not sure you can finish your work in time? Little messages are great presents too. What has the past year of Lights on Park Ave been like for you? Do you have a favorite prompt or round? A favorite LoPA work? Want to make a rec list of your favorites or wax poetic and show some love for a specific work and/or creator? Go for it. Let the Steve/Tony community know! The LoPA askbox is open or if you want to make your own Tumblr post or tweet, you can mention @lightsonparkave or tag #lightsonparkave. Whatever method you choose, I’ll make sure to share your message/post on here and Twitter.

Or maybe you’re not up to making anything this time. In that case, let’s take a walk down memory lane. Here are all 46 Lights on Park Ave works for previous rounds.

ART

3490 & 616

A comparison between 616 Civil War and universe 3490 where the war was averted by the marriage of Steve Rogers and Natasha Stark - @jarvisuanddumetoo​

ANY UNIVERSE

A framed portrait of a smiling Tony, drawn and signed by Steve - @hundredthousands

Steve steals his husband’s helmet and gives his king a springtime crown - @starksnack

AU

Tin soldier Steve and ballerina Tony dancing - @jarvisuanddumetoo

BATTLEWORLD

Steve watching Tony flying in on the battlefield - @thingexplainer

MCU

Old Steve holding flowers and seeing a blue butterfly after Tony’s death - @hundredthousands

So much of life feels like drowning... but when I’m with you my troubles recede like waves on the shore - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Stranger Things AU where Steve is the one who was experimented on in a lab and doesn’t understand pop culture and Tony is the guy with no powers who is still doing his best to fight these weird new aliens - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Steve and a dandelion that represents him weathering all his hardships over the years - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Tony on fire and Steve’s reaction - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Steve crying while holding Tony’s helmet after Tony’s funeral - @noririna

I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You’re a hero. - @starksnack

ULTIMATES

Steve and Tony leaving marks on each other’s bodies that are only visible in the dark - @sirsapling Ults Steve and Tony are tragically bound to one another. They can always feel the trace of each others hands, it leaves an invisible mark they will cary with them till there is nothing left. Only a ghost of something lost in the chaos of the past.

FIC

1872

Say My Name - @citsiurtlanu Steve reminds Tony that there's more to him than the war his weapons were used in.

616

Snow Day - @captainneverever The Avengers think that Steve and Tony got engaged at the annual holiday party. It’s news to Steve and Tony.

Kiss me rough before you go - erde Tony is dying. His life is slipping away and Steve wants to be better than this, but he can't quite manage the feat. Tony's war has made a bitter man out of him, a lesser man.

Boys, boys, boys - Missy_dee811 (@viudanegraaa) (AU) Steve keeps putting off his oil change. Finally deciding to see the mechanic in town.

Without the rusty music of my machine - Missy_dee811 (@viudanegraaa)  Tony was lying on the hood of his car. He had taken off his leather jacket, gently folded it in half, and draped it across the windshield so he could rest his arms on the supple leather.

Muddy Waters - RossKL (@but-damn-is-he-lovable) (also on Tumblr) Tony bleeds. It's not real.

ANY

(A Dream is) A Wish Your Heart Makes - @helovedyou Cool evenings together and laughing free and all the nice things Tony never thought he’d get

Afternoon Off - Neverever (@captainneverever) Freedom is just another word for getting with your boyfriend on the downlow during a mission.

BULLET POINTS

Those We Were (For A While) - sadisticsparkle The blueprints hadn’t prepared Tony for the light bouncing off the battered metal, for the empty stare of its empty eye sockets or the dim circle in the middle of the chest. He traced its lines with his gaze, remembering every day he had spent hunched over the schematics picking its inner workings and every night he had spent sprawled under its pilot letting him take Tony apart.

MCU

border state - @areiton (also on Tumblr) They exist in the in between.

star crossed - @areiton (also on Tumblr) "The gods made the stars,” you whisper, a lifetime ago, a heartbeat ago, now, “and they were so bright, so beautiful and strong, that they ripped them in two. And half of ‘em fell to earth, and woke from the dust and walked as men.”

this is how - @areiton (also on Tumblr) This is how the world ends: Gaps in the code.

kiss me hard before you go - duckmoles​ & starxreactor (AU) “I love you, you know that?” Tony says just after popping another grape into Steve’s mouth. He watches as Steve’s jaw works, chewing and then swallowing. Steve smiles up at Tony with a bright, toothy grin. “I love you, too.” “I’m going to miss you,” Tony continues. “I’m going to call you everyday, okay? And—and, during the holidays I’ll show up at your house and we can—we can—sit together on the balcony, and—” The last day of summer, and it's time to hold on to what you might lose.

No Winter Lasts Forever - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) Steve stopped, white breath clouding the air around him, to look at the little shoots of green and purple peeking out from the scant layer of snow left on the ground.

snippet of a post-apocalyptic A/B/O AU WIP - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) Steve’s fingers traced the bite, a half-moon of red marks, from in front of the largest mirror he’d ever seen.

the first blush of morning - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) (AU) The sun rises on the Atlantic ocean and Steve isn't alone - or is he?

Santa Paws - @heartsandmuses [I]f there were two things the public couldn’t get enough of, it was cute puppies and shirtless Captain America — and Tony, ever the philanthropist, decided to give the people exactly what they wanted, right on Christmas morning.

Philautia - @helovedyou Tony dies and Steve keeps on living. Well. He doesn’t die. Living might be a bit of a generous term

To the Victor - @helovedyou There are rainbows flying and people hugging and others ranting and raving, spittle flying, he thinks this. We have won this, this tiny victory.

Snippet of a WIP set post-IW - @ishipallthings The numbers keep climbing, for hours, in the aftermath.

Shuffle Off This Mortal Coil - jellybeanforest (@jellybeanforest-a-go-go) (also a Cap-IM Bingo 2020 round 1 fic) Tony hadn’t been a cruel man, but he had been a practical one. Or: In his twilight years, concerned about how his slow-aging possibly-immortal husband will adjust to his death, Tony builds an AI version of himself that he updates nightly, intending for it to keep Steve company after he’s gone. When the inevitable comes to pass, Steve doesn’t know what to make of the AI or whether its presence lessens his grief or makes it significantly worse. He’s leaning towards the latter.

Five Bells - @lazywriter7 (also on Tumblr) After returning the Stones, Steve takes a detour through time.

if we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious - @littlemissstark forgiveness. The salty air was intense enough to wake Steve up completely, snapping any left over drowsiness away. He was alert despite the sky still being a shade of navy that tapered into a purple at the sea’s horizon. The world was still dormant, but Steve couldn’t stay asleep – not when he woke to coldness on the right side of the bed and empty arms.

In My Hands and Gone Again - @nostalgicatsea (also on Tumblr) Memories were like fish, Tony had explained, or the tease of one. A flash of silver, and his hands would plunge down. Sometimes he would catch one; other times, it would dart out of reach. He wouldn’t be sure whether it had been real or just a trick of the light, after.

Leaving You Forward - @nostalgicatsea (AU) It would be easy, staying here like this with Tony. But Steve knew he couldn't—because he had never taken the easy way out and because he loved Tony.

i choose: me, you, us - @onlymorelove (also a Cap-IM Remix Madness 2020 fic) “We, uh. We’ve been together five years, and you’ve never— I’ve never let you see it. I told you I’d let you see it on our wedding night.” In which Tony and Steve marry, but Tony hasn't let Steve see the arc reactor—and the scars around it. Yet.

best of summers gone - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Tony's favorite month has always been August.

when we all fall asleep - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Tony wakes up and questions why Steve loves him. It's a surprisingly complex question for such a simple answer.

you anchor me (back down) - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Steve still loves Tony, no matter what mask he’s wearing. He’ll never tell Tony that, though. He’s read enough books and watched enough movies to know that it only ends well when it’s just a story. Or, everyone needs an anchor sometimes, and Steve and Tony just happen to be each others’.

take me to the feeling - smalltonystark (@theotherwasdeath​) Steve looks gorgeous in the lights. He always looks stunning, but here, late at night, in the faint glow from the streetlamps underneath them and underneath the stars, he looks magnificent.

POETRY

A Toast to Cold, Hard Facts - @onlymorelove (also on Tumblr) The world is brutal and coarse, but...

Love was fading stars - @onlymorelove (also on AO3) Blackout poetry based on “Failing and Flying” by Jack Gilbert on top of an original print.

not married - @onlymorelove (also on Tumblr) Grief works in mysterious ways.

[jbbuckybarnes]

PR Stunt

Desc: Fake Dating AU. Celebrity AU. After pity posts for Sebastian skyrocketing, you two being seen together as friends a lot and with a big movie coming up, his management decides to pair you two for a PR stunt. You both agree, pranking the public seems fun and getting rid of pity tweets seems convenient. Pairing: Sebastian x Reader Warning: It’s not that good and one of my last real people fiction pieces I have left. Not beta read.

M A S T E R L I S T

+Pop Magazine - Articles: +Hot actors that are still on the market!+

*@lancebastian: Someone give this man a family!* *@stanfanfam: I feel so bad for him, he still isn’t with a woman or trying to build a family.* *@aliburger: Poor boy looks so alone. I’m volunteering!* _______ +Pop Magazine - Candids: +Sebastian Stan seen with his friend Y/N Y/LN in Manhattan, New York+

*@seabassbaby: I know they’re just friends but they’d make a cute couple.* *@lancebastian: Get her, Stan!* *@vanillaiceice: She’s cute af.* ________ “People are pitying you so much, it’s insane. What is so wrong with being single at your age?” you looked up from your phone at Sebastian sitting on the other side of the couch. “They’re just projecting their desires onto this.” he shrugged without looking up from his phone. “How does that not annoy you to some degree? I read it and get irritated by it.” you chuckled. “Sometimes I do, but at the end of the day it’s so unimportant.” now he looked up. “Yeah, but doesn’t that suck energy out of you to some level?” you two never talked about this specifically. “A bit.” another shrug with a small pout. “Well, let’s stop talking about that then. When’s press coming up?” you tried to change the topic. He looked at you for a second with a confused face before answering, “I think in two weeks.” “No, brunch meetings for weeks again.” you pouted like a child and got a smile back from him. “Poor baby.” he played into it and laughed. “You know they keep me sane.” you answered chuckling. “I know. I promise we’ll eat like three pizzas in one day when I’m back again, chaotic mess.” you looked at him offended. “I’m just telling the truth.” he held his arms up and grinned. “Ar-” you were interrupted by someone calling him and went back to checking your socials. You had a decent following and were friends with a few photographers, which gave you the opportunity to try yourself as a model and influencer. One of you photography friends is also how you two met and as soon as you two found your love for New York brunch meetings the friendship was sealed. “With Y/N?” you looked up at the mention of your name and saw him raise a brow. “Okay, yeah. Good, tomorrow at 11am. See ya.” he ended the call and finally saw your confused face. “Guess we have a meeting at 11am tomorrow and they also want you there.” his hand went through his hair and he exhaled a bit exhausted. “Why that?” you weren’t with his management or something. “She didn’t tell me. Maybe they want to sign you?” he was just as clueless as you and sat back down on the couch and you sat up. “That would be...sudden?” you said even more confused. “I feel like there’s something more to that.” his eyes narrowed. You shrugged taking your phone again, “We’ll find out I guess.”

___________ “We know you both don’t like paparazzi but this could benefit all of us and would be over after a few weeks.” the woman ended her little idea. “Wait, you want us to do a PR stunt, did I understand that right?” you said it out loud. A serious nod came back and a sigh from you. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but I think that would be hilarious outside of the paparazzi stuff.” he snorted beside you. “Excuse me, what?” you turned towards him and got a shrug back. “So...would you be on board?” the lady asked again. You let your head sink onto your arms on the table with an, “I guess.” You both left the office after you got handed a contract to go through to sign with the management and the comment, “I hate being friends with you.” “Did you mean being in a relationship?” he joked and got a stern look back. “Don’t take it too far, Stan!” you warned him. “Won’t. Promise.” he said with that boyish smile that guaranteed for nothing. “Idiot.” you muttered while walking out of the building onto the busy street. A hand was reaching for yours and you looked up confused. “What? Need to lay down the foundation for what’s about to go down.” he clearly loved the idea to mess around with you and the public for a while. “Dork.” a smile finally found its way onto your face and you shook your head. You didn’t mind holding hands with your other friends, so this wasn’t the problem. You weren’t so sure about the rest of what was about to happen in the upcoming weeks. “You love it.” he said nudging you lightly.

“Only if I get some good pictures for my Instagram and Twitter.” you chuckled. “I’m sure there’s gonna be some of your beloved photoshootings.” he grinned. “You’re gonna be an Instagram boyfriend, don’t you forget about that part of it.” you grinned back. “Oh god.” he had the realization hit him. “Yeah, didn’t think through that I might get back at you, huh?” you laughed.

“Lunch date?” he looked down at you after you both were finished with laughing and had walked for a block. “As long as I don’t need to play honeymoon phase love, yeah.” you bit your lip to stop the laugh that was making its way through your body. “Don’t worry, I think the eating each other alive part is one or two weeks in.” he wheezed and held the door to one of your favorite places open. “It’s gonna be hella obvious that it’s a stunt.” you pointed out. “That’s why I agreed. Why not have some fun and confuse people for a bit.” there was that boyish smile again. “Like that whole Shawn Mendes & Camila Cabello thing.” you shuddered. That was obviously a stunt but there was that part where everyone kinda thought it might be true and they just wanted to get the extra publicity. “I have no idea what you’re talking about but I guess my answer would be yes.” he said before turning to the waitress that just arrived at your table. ___________ +Pop Magazine - Candids: Sebastian Stan seen having a lunch date and holding hands with Y/N Y/L/N*+ *@bellastann: I feel like our dreams start to manifest stanfam!* *@lancebastian: Not entirely sold, holding hands ain’t that special. They are friends for months now.* *@evanstackiee: Yeees! (Y/L/N)stan is real!!!* ____________ Your contract was signed, your game plan was well organized. There were appointments and activities planned out, what to do at which one and the paparazzi would be there for some of them. You kinda cringed when you looked at the little calendar in front of you but you also were about to have some fun with tricking the general public. “Just an insanely big acting exercise, right?” you looked beside you to see him read through the stuff too. “Uuh, yeah.” he said concentrated on reading. You were both extremely open with each other and rarely had any miscommunication. So kissing in public without starting friendship problems wouldn’t be so hard, but you still had a weird feeling about it. Not fear, just a feeling.

__________ The first thing you did was pretty mellow. Attending a small local event together. You did things like this before but this time you’d have to cuddle up a bit here and there and make a few Instagram Stories. “You comfortable?” he smiled down at you holding your body close to his arm. “You’re 6 foot and fit, I think there is no way in hell anyone would think this isn’t comfortable.” you gave a sweet grin up at him. “For a model you’re pretty good at this.” he joked and you poked him into his waist. “Hey!” he laughed. “You act like I wasn’t a drama kid in school. I might be good-looking but I’m also a nerd. You should know that best...space nerd.” you chuckled. “Stop calling me out like that or I’ll make you talk to that dude you find annoying over there.” he pointed at a man that had bombarded you with his boring business ideas months ago. “Don’t you dare, Stan!” you looked offended. “You wanna sit down with some wine then, madame?” he said in a posh accent. “Of course, it is incredibly instagramable.” you answered in the same way. A boomerang of your drinks with each other tagged in it and two glasses of wine later you officially had glued yourself to him. He had a very comforting vibe about him and you clearly helped with his anxious moments. A kiss was planted onto your temple and a black and white filter put on top of it. Followed by a funny selfie and a picture of your empty wine glasses. Shortly after you already left the party under the flickering lights of a handful of paparazzi. Holding hands and very close together. __________ +Pop Magazine - Gossip: Are Sebastian Stan and his ‘best friend’ dating?+ *@stanfanfam: Cause of death: That temple kiss.* *@vanillaiceice: Damn, is it the late 2000s? Seb leaving a party with a girl? Damn!* *@evanstackiee: For me it’s confirmed.* *@seabassbaby: It looks kinda staged but if it’s not I’m super happy for him!* __________ The second little thing on the list was a photoshooting together. Since you both had modelled for magazines before and with other models you were kinda in your element. It was for a mid-sized fashion magazine that published every month and you two were having fun all over the rented AirBnB. Some expensive yoga pants with a knitted oversized sweater and boots was the first thing you needed to wear for a scene depicting to come home. Falling into each other's arms multiple times definitely made you laugh because of the dumb faces he made. The next outfit was a sleeping outfit. Silk shorts and an airy white cropped shirt. Your socks were pink and had donuts on it. “Can I have them?” you gave them puppy eyes and the team laughed. Modelling while laying was hard. You needed to look realistic but also show of what you were wearing. Combined with a giant baby blowing air into your ear ended in him being pinched by you. He was clearly not prepared to see you in the third outfit. Lacey underwear and an open button-down mens shirt. You could literally see his brain work and giggled “C’mon, get it together.” He was wearing briefs and a white shirt, needing to embrace you from behind while you pretended to make scrambled eggs. “My eggs are definitely scrambled after this.” he whispered and you couldn’t hold back the genuine laugh, ending up in some good pictures. The last two outfits were a bit more editorial but still wearable and the pictures were taken outside. “Well, that wasn’t bad.” you said to him as you two walked out after changing back into your clothing. “For YOU.” he answered. “Poor baby, needed to see his friend in underwear.” you made fun of him. “Yo, it’s a different thing if I see an Instagram picture or the live version.” he defended himself. “Clearly...don’t you dare fall for me, dork.” you joked and he huffed. The walk back was silent but he looked down at you from time to time. You just couldn’t see his reaction every time he did. __________ +Pop Magazine - News: Sebastian Stan & Y/N Y/L/N modelling together. Check out these pictures!+ *@lancebastian: Damn, so this is really a thing, huh? Holy, that’s cute.* *@evanstackiee: Can they adopt me?* *@bellastann: That kitchen picture sent me into cardiac arrest!* _________ By now you were trained at sending each other stolen glances. No matter if you just needed to go to your management or when you had brunch together. But for the last three days he was in LA for the press junket of his new movie. There was this weird feeling again. It felt so close to fear but it wasn't fear. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it. *God, I’m way too used to being around you now.* *You miss not freezing to death in any given moment, admit it!* *No, real talk, I miss you.* *Realtalk: I miss you too...but admit it’s the freezing!* *D O R K !* You had taken a flight to LA the day after because an award show was next on your list. You were ten times more nervous for the dress sitting right than the man on your side. You also weren’t used to hair and makeup. You were an Instagram model, this was a luxury at experimental shoots. “You’d think I can smile on command and not look like shit...but I can’t.” you said to him before stepping onto the red carpet an hour later. “You’re looking good, stop worrying.” he said in his usual calming tone before gently pulling you forward. 10 minutes later the torture to your eyes was done and there were interviews. “What do you have to say about the rumors about your relationship status?” you were asked. “That people should care more about their life than mine...oh, and that he’s the best human being on the planet. Doesn’t matter in which way we are connected.” Sitting down at an award show with your hand being held was not were you thought you’d end up when you agreed to this but why not make memories? Your head naturally landed on his shoulder after a while. You really had missed him being in close proximity for those 4 days. His thumb softly wandered over the back of your hand. “What would you do if I’d win something?” he asked in a low voice. “Jump you?” your head went up again to see his eyes wandering over your face. “In a happy kinda way, I assume.” he had a lopsided smile on his face. “You’re thinking about that photoshoot again, huh? Literally a teenager.” you joked but saw his eyes wander to your lips for a bit too long before he concentrated on the host again. For the rest of the evening your mind went in circles about him playing that or being genuinely interested in you in that way.

__________ +Pop Magazine - Gossip: Mysterious answer to relationship question about (Y/L/N)stan+ *@vanillaiceice: They are boning, come ON!* *@evanstackiee: Look at how happy she is while she says it.* *@seabassbaby: Gosh, just say it!* __________ Today was the day you weren’t really prepared for. He had an off day from press and you were still in LA. Your plan was going to the beach and getting photographed. Well, it wasn’t your plan. It was the plan made for you. “I hate swimming in the ocean!” you mumbled. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. You have two excuses to grab onto me, right?” he chuckled while watching you undress and revealing your red bikini. You both laid in the sun for a while, talking about his press junket and the social media reactions to this. “Wanna get wet?” you opened your eyes to a child in a man’s body wiggling his eyebrows. You punched his chest with a laugh and let him pull you up with him. Hand in hand you made your way into the ocean rather slowly, “And you didn’t want to admit that you freeze to death without me.” he chuckled. He got impatient and just grabbed your waist and jumped backwards into deeper water. After a squeak from your side and your nails clawing into his back a little bit too harshly, you got used to it. “Look. It’s fine.” he put some hair strands out of your face with his free hand. “I still hate the ocean.” you pouted, trying to overplay how fast your heart was suddenly beating. Oh hell no, you were not just slowly falling for your best friend...please? “I get that.” he put his hand onto your lower back and you put your legs around his hips. “You’re my floatie.” you giggled putting your head into the crook of his neck. “And you are...I can only assume a freezing rock.” you both chuckled.

Your head went up again to see a big grin on his face, “Fuck you.” “You love it.” he said like usual but this time you slowly nodded with a serious face and his eyes widened enough for you to notice. “Wait, I didn’t…” you exhaled deeply with attentive eyes on you. “I feel like we should just stop this. I don’t want to see this friendship break apart just because my body thinks close proximity is a good reason to send hormones out.” you got out of your system. “That’s an odd way of saying that you’re having a crush on me.” he smiled and put his other arm around you. “Yeah, well, I don’t wanna ruin this.” your eyes went down, you rarely made yourself this vulnerable. “You already did by, to say it in your nerdy words, making my body think it’s a good idea to send out hormones because we are in close proximity.” he answered with a nervous chuckle, hand going through his hair.

Your eyes met his again, “I stopped acting the moment it started, Y/N.” “Well, um, it took me till about approximately 5 minutes ago to realize that this odd feeling I have isn’t some suppressed fear.” you made fun of yourself to make the situation less awkward. “Wanna give them what they want?” his head nudged towards the beach with a smirk. “Do you mean give you what you want?” you joked and he remembered where he heard that before. “I hate being friends with you,” he bit his lip, “I’d much rather call you my girlfriend.” The reference made you melt, he remembered that dumb little conversation from two weeks ago. Your hands went from his shoulders to his head and his free hand pulled your head closer before your lips met. You didn’t care about the camera clicks in the background, you only cared about finally making out with the man that made you love brunch dates so much. It felt like an hour before you broke apart a little. Steel blue eyes were staring right into your soul and the most calming voice in the world said “I love you.” “I hope you don’t say that while thinking of me in underwear.” you joked. “Nah, don’t need to. You’re grabbing onto me in a bikini.” he said with his hands wandering down your body and a giant smirk on his face. “I love you too, dork.” ___________ +Pop Magazine - News: (Y/L/N)stan confirmed! Couple seen kissing at the beach.+ *@vanillaiceice: I’ll fistfight anyone that hates on her!* *@evanstackiee: Look at those SMILES.* *@seabassbaby: Maybe I’m crying.* *@lancebastian: She makes him happyyy.* *@bellastann: I think this gave me diabetes.* *@stanfanfam: Make babies! lol* *@Y/N: Gosh, @imsebastianstan we have heart eyes galore in these. Might need to go and get that checked out.* *@imsebastianstan: @Y/N, yeah, heard of that new disease called love. It’s attacking every part of your body and mind!* *@seabassbaby: For real...ADOPT ME!* _____________

M A S T E R L I S T

[argylemnwrites]

Change of Plans - Part 3

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (An It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe AU, set nearly 3 years after that epilogue)

Word Count: ~4700

Rating: NC-17 (language, 30 diamond scene)

Summary: Living in NYC in March 2020 is redefining normal for Drake and Riley. Life doesn’t always go according to plan during a pandemic, after all.

Author’s Note: Finally finished up the third and final installment of my AU inside my AU. Sorry the word count got away from me a bit here, but hopefully you all like this conclusion to the journey even further into the real world for these two. (I might have fallen in love with this version more than my planned version... oops)

Just like parts 1 and 2, this does hint at or reference some events from the prologue and the first couple of chapters of Why Are We Still Waiting?, but it does not spoil the core content of the story. And again, Trigger warning for coronavirus discussions. Also, explicit adult content in this part.

Part of Drake couldn’t quite believe that today was actually real. It felt sort of surreal still, even though he had the marriage certificate in his hand and was wearing a ring on his finger. Even though the officiant’s words still ran through his mind, pronouncing them married. It felt too much like a dream. But they were married. She was his wife.

They were in their cab, back to their apartment. Obviously, no reception. No bars or restaurants were even open, except for takeout. But that was alright. Being married to her, that was what mattered. Who really cared if it didn’t happen as they planned?

“So, for our honeymoon, what do you think about Brooklyn?” Riley asked, settling in under the arm he’d thrown across her shoulders after giving the driver their address.

Drake chuckled, “Sounds great. You have a place in mind?”

“Yup! I found this little one bedroom apartment with absolutely no amenities, but it does come with a corgi.”

“Perfect. Hopefully it comes with the opportunity for digital filing of cases, because that’s what I really want to do.”

“But you finished your work for today, right?”

Drake nodded. It had been a pain in the ass, but he’d been able to take care of enough between last night and this morning that he would probably not draw attention to the fact that he’d taken this afternoon off. It had seemed stupid to tell his supervisor his plan when he’d been able to get the work done. The firm might be letting people work from home, but that didn’t change the fact that the leadership on his team was a bunch of frat bro assholes that would have absolutely made him use a half day of vacation.

“Good,” she said, turning her head and leaning over slightly so that her lips were practically on his ear, “I’ve got plans for you.”

Drake swallowed roughly, sparing a quick glance towards the cab driver before turning his head and kissing her. The only thing hotter than the promise her words held was the fact that she was now saying them as his wife.

After a few moments, Drake pulled back, not wanting to make the driver too uncomfortable, but Riley tugged him down again, deepening the kiss slightly. However, after several seconds, a loud buzzing sound interrupted them. Riley leaned back slightly, pulling her phone out of her purse.

“What the hell?” she said as she unlocked her phone. “I have six texts from Maxwell. Wait - seven.”

Drake watched her open up her messaging app, and she let out a big sigh almost instantly. She quickly titled her phone so he could read the screen.

😲😃😭🤗😤🥳

That’s all my feelings

Because

OMG 

YOU GUYS GOT MARRIED 

YAY!!! 👰🤵🥂

WITHOUT ME

BOO!!!! 😡👎👿

Drake glanced up from her phone, “How does he know?” They had decided it was better to tell Liam and Iris, Hana and Catherine, and Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, and the kids at the same time, and since they had plans for a Zoom call this weekend, that had seemed like the perfect opportunity. No hurt feelings at being the last to know, no guilt trips from Maxwell, and no judgement from his sister for eloping. However, Maxwell had apparently found out within 15 minutes of the ceremony.

“I have no idea how he-” Riley started, but stopped abruptly, “Shit. Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I want to check if Daniel posted our photos to Pictagram.”

“Liu, I don’t have Pictagram.”

“Yes, you do. Maxwell and I set that up for you like a year ago.”

“Yeah… I deleted it as soon as he left town.”

Riley rolled her eyes at him, but closed out her message thread with Maxwell and opened up her Pictagram account. Sure enough @liuthebagelbitch and @dw519 were tagged in numerous photos in Daniel’s account and story. Them signing the paperwork. Sitting on the couch waiting. Holding hands and saying vows. Putting on their rings. Kissing at the end of the ceremony.

“Maxwell must follow Daniel,” Riley said, scrolling through the feed, “Yup, squidwiththemoves has liked every single photo.” She sighed, exiting the app. “And he’s texted me ten more times. We have to call him.”

Drake nodded, but before Riley could even open her contacts list, a Facetime request popped up from Maxwell Beaumont. Letting out one last sigh, Riley swiped to accept the call.

“Hey Maxwell!”

“What the hell? I’ve been working on my speech for your ceremony for years, Riley!”

“Wanna try that again?” Riley asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Maxwell sighed, “I mean, congratulations! I’m so happy you decided to get married without telling me or inviting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry we didn’t consider you in our wedding,” Drake called out, leaning into the view of the camera and rolling his eyes.

“Drake! How could you do this to me, buddy?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question, buddy?”

Riley elbowed him slightly, probably wanting him to not escalate the situation. Truth be told, Drake was only mildly annoyed at Maxwell making their wedding all about him. The bigger issue was going to be getting Maxwell to keep quiet about it until Sunday. That was basically four full days from now, and Maxwell had barely been able to contain himself back when he found out that he and Riley were involved for half that time. 

“Sorry, Maxwell. But we didn’t want to wait again. Plus, I lost my health insurance, so now I’m able to go on Drake’s.”

“Why didn’t you guys tell me, though?”

“Because we wanted to keep this quiet and not make it everyone else’s business,” Drake grumbled.

“And,” Riley added, shooting him a look before she continued, “we were planning to tell all you guys together on Sunday.”

“I just can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Maxwell said, shaking his head sadly.

“We wish you could have been. We really do. But you understand why that wasn’t an option, right?”

Maxwell nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

“And do you think you could not mention it to anyone before we see everyone on Sunday?”

There was a long pause following Riley’s question before Maxwell responded, “I promise not to tell anyone else.”

“Maxwell… who have you told already?” Drake asked, the word ‘else’ jumping out in his mind.

“Not that many, people I swear!”

“Well, I just got a ‘congratulations’ text with several question marks from Hana,” said Riley, glancing at the notification that had flashed across the top of her screen.

“I had to find out if you had told her and not me!” Maxwell said, gesturing towards the screen emphatically with his free hand.

“And Iris just asked me if what she’s seeing is real,” Riley continued as another notification popped up.

“I wanted to make sure she wasn’t more looped in that I was!”

“And now Savannah’s asking if I really married her brother today.”

“Wait, why is my sister texting you and not me?” Drake asked as Maxwell continued his defense, saying “I mean, we live under the same roof, so of course I asked her what she knew.”

“Maxwell, is there anyone you didn’t tell?” Riley asked, shaking her head.

“Well, Liam didn’t answer my calls, so he probably doesn’t know.”

“You told Iris!”

“Yeah, okay… fair,” Maxwell trailed off, clearly trying to find someone he hadn’t told. “This really isn’t my fault, though! You posted those pictures!”

“Daniel was our witness and photographer. He’s the one who posted them.”

“Well, then blame him. I just acted the way any normal person in my position would have acted.”

“Wanna try that again?” asked Drake, prompting a chuckle from Riley.

“Fine, I just acted in a way that you guys should have totally predicted. In fact, part of me wonders if you wanted me to find out so that I would tell everyone, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the drama of telling them that you got married without them.”

“Maxwell!”

“Fine, I’ll let you go be nauseating newlyweds. Congrats, you two!” With a little wave, Maxwell ended the call.

“Well, I guess people know,” said Riley after a moment. 

Drake let out a sigh, tipping his head back against the top of the seat.

“You aren’t really upset, are you? I mean, I know we decided to tell everyone at once, but it’s not such a big deal that they know, is it?”

“Nah, it’s just annoying that instead of this just being our thing for now, we’re gonna spend our entire wedding night on the phone with people.”

Riley let out a little burst of laughter at that, so Drake twisted his neck to glance at her. “What?” he asked.

“I think you are severely overestimating how many close friends we have. I bet we can finish this up before we even get back to our place.”

“Really.”

“You take Liam and Iris; I’ll take Hana and Catherine. All our New York friends can wait, don’t you think?”

“What about Savannah?”

Riley paused for just a moment, “We can set up a video call with her and your mother tomorrow.”

“But she lives with Maxwell. She knows that-”

“She owes us our wedding day, Drake.”

Drake nodded. As much as he wished that Riley and his sister got along perfectly, he knew that Riley had a good point there. 

“So, I’m gonna call Hana. If you give Liam a call now, it can just be our time when we get home.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice, so as she tapped Hana in her contact list, he unlocked his phone and scrolled to Liam in his recent contacts. The phone only rang twice before Liam answered.

“Yes, Iris. I see. Please let me actually talk to him, love?” Liam asked, his voice muffled and quiet initially before growing much louder. “Drake, I’m glad you called. You are apparently the source of great excitement here tonight.”

“Yeah… I didn’t mean to be-”

“Well, you are, my friend. Between my three missed calls from Maxwell about, and I quote ‘something that I probably wouldn’t consider an emergency, but he sure did’ and Iris bursting into my office with pictures of Riley and you pulled up on her phone, I’ve not been able to get very far in reviewing my nightly briefings.”

“Sorry about that. But, I… er, do have some news.”

“So I am gathering. It appears congratulations are in order,” Liam said. In the background, Drake heard a quieter “Congrats, you two,” that presumably came from Iris.

“Uhh, yeah. We decided to get married.”

“I’m guessing this was Riley’s idea?”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s just a touch more prone to impulsive action than you.”

“Well, you’re wrong this time.”

“This was you?” The shock was evident in Liam’s voice, and it did bring a smile to Drake’s face. It wasn’t often that Drake was able to surprise him.

“It was.”

“Congratulations, Drake,” Liam replied after a moment, “I’m truly very happy for both of you.”

“Sorry we didn’t-”

“No. I’m happy for you. I’m not accepting any apologies as there is nothing that happened today for which you should feel even remotely sorry.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“Can I talk to Riley?”

Drake glanced over at Riley, “She’s on the phone with Hana,” but she held up one finger and then held her free hand open, “but I think she’s about to wrap up and wants to talk to you, too.” Riley nodded in agreement.

“Excellent. And I mean it Drake, I know how much this means to both of you. So, truly, I wish you congratulations and nothing but happiness.”

Feeling a lump in his throat, Drake swallowed roughly. But before he could process the words of his oldest and dearest friend, Riley was snatching his phone out of his hand and passing her phone to him.

Hana and Catherine wished him brief, but heartfelt congratulations, but Riley was still on the phone with Liam after he said goodbye to them. He could only really hear her half of the conversation, and she wasn’t saying much, mainly listening to him apparently. Every so often, she would throw in an “of course” or “you know I will,” but other than a few chuckles, she was largely silent. Every so often, he would catch a word or two from Liam, but their conversation was basically a mystery to him.

It was a little strange, to think about how a couple of years ago, having to sit as an outsider while Liam and Riley shared something private would have filled him with a mix of jealousy and guilt and anger. Now, it was certainly a bit odd that his best friend seemed to have more to say to his… his wife than he did to him, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily. If anything, he was mostly curious, with just a bit of fear about what tales from their youth and adolescence he could be telling her. Those stories would require more explanations than he wanted to give tonight.

Eventually, the cab stopped in front of their building. As Drake paid their fare, Riley wrapped up the call with Liam.

“Thanks, Liam. We’re actually home now… Yeah, I know… You too. Stay safe, and we’ll talk to you guys in a few days.”

“What was that about?” Drake asked as Riley ducked under his arm as he opened the door to their building.

“Oh, he just had a lot of really mushy things to say about you.”

“I’m serious, Liu.”

“I wasn’t kidding. I think he basically gave me his best man speech just now,” she said with a shrug as she unlocked the door from the mailroom and started up the stairs to the second floor, “He just wanted to make sure I knew how lucky I was, I think.”

“Well, that’s fucking dumb. I’m the lucky one here.”

“This has all the markings of going on for a while. Why don’t we just agree that we’re both mad lucky and call it even?” Riley called over her shoulder as she walked down the hallway and pulled her keys out of her purse.

“Wait! I’m supposed to carry you through, right?” Drake remembered as Riley moved to push open the door.

She let out a little chuckle and rolled her eyes, but stood there expectantly, so Drake stepped up and scooped her into his arms, sliding one hand forward to turn the knob and open their door. Anderson came trotting over, eager to see his two humans, while Drake placed Riley down close to the door, not wanting to track their shoes and jackets too far into the apartment.

“He could probably use a walk,” Drake said, “and we should probably shower after spending hours out in public. How about I take him while you get started since washing your hair is always a… process.”

Riley swatted his chest lightly, but nodded in agreement. “You’ll join me when you get back?”

“Absolutely.”

Anderson took care of his business quickly, so it wasn’t too long before Drake was back in their apartment, hanging his sport coat up next to Riley’s jacket and kicking off his shoes. After washing his hands, he made his way into their bathroom, where the shower was running. The steam was already starting to get thick in the room, and eager to get out of his clothes and to join her, Drake quickly moved to drop his shirt on top of the pile of clothing she’d left next to the sink, but a scrap of tan lace caught his eye.

“I knew you were bluffing!” he called out as he fully removed his shirt and started undoing his belt and jeans.

“Huh?” asked Riley, peeking her head out from behind the shower curtain.

“About not wearing underwear. I knew you were full of shit,” Drake said as he stepped out of his pants and boxers, kicking them on top of the pile before climbing into the tub and under the water, sliding his hands into her long, black hair, somehow even darker now that it was wet, as she placed her chin against his chest and her hands on his hips, turning her face up towards his with a playful little smile.

He dropped his head to hers, pulling her into a passionate kiss, trailing his hands through her hair and down to her back. After a few moments, she tilted her head back. “As much as I like where this is headed, we should actually probably shower and not get too distracted,” she teased, trailing her hands around and squeezing his ass with a wink before she ducked past him and started rinsing out her hair. “Besides,” she added, “our track record for shower sex is not great.”

Drake couldn’t help but laugh as he opened up his bottle of shampoo and started lathering up his hair. Something about the floor of this tub was extra slippery, as they had learned the hard way not long after they moved in and then foolishly required repeat lessons about at numerous times. The worst was the time that he’d needed three stitches behind his ear after colliding with the tap as he fell backward, but the time Riley nearly dislocated her shoulder was a close second. “Yeah, a trip to urgent care would be pretty far from ideal at this point,” he said as he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

And so they both showered, trying to keep any touches light and loving, not wanting things to escalate just yet, but the sight of Riley with water trailing all over her naked curves was obviously turning Drake on. Based on the way she dragged her hand across him as she reached for her body wash, she was feeling the same way. By the time she was rinsing off and stepping out of the shower, Drake was scrambling to finish up, wanting to join her as soon as possible.

When he finally turned off the water and stepped out, there she was, wrapped up in her lime green towel, working a comb through her hair. She smiled at him through the mirror, her skin still looking like it was almost glowing from the warmth and water. As he drew up behind her, he slid his hands around her waist and dropped his lips to her shoulder, prompting Riley to shake her head.

“Drake, at least let me finish working out the tangles,” she said before letting out a little sigh as he worked his way over to the side of her neck, biting down ever so lightly when he reached that spot that always drove her wild.

“Who cares?” Drake mumbled into her skin, working his fingers to gather up the towel and moving one hand to her now-exposed thigh, “You aren’t gonna be seeing anyone anyway.”

Riley shuddered, dropping her comb to the counter before snaking her hand behind his neck as he slid his fingers to her center, his touch still light and teasing. “Maybe I want to look good for my husband,” she sighed out, moving her other hand to the knotted portion of the towel across her chest.

Drake groaned. Was her statement supposed to slow him down? Because hearing the word ‘husband’ coming from her lips? Talking about him? Well, fuck. It turned him on even more. Riley had to know what that sentence would do to him, right? So, he increased the pressure of his fingers, stroking her in the way he knew she loved before sliding a finger inside her. The angle wasn’t perfect, but he could feel her arousal and the fact that she practically growled “Fuck” as she clawed her fingernails into his neck seemed to indicate that she was just as ready to keep going as he was.

After a few moments, Drake stilled his motion when Riley grabbed his wrist. She spun, letting the towel fall to the ground and hopped up onto the small counter. She tugged him between her legs, but Drake shook his head.

“Our bed is just a few feet away,” he protested as Riley wrapped her hand around him, causing him to question why he was trying to change anything going on here.

“But it’s nice and warm in here,” she responded, dropping kisses along his jaw, “and I’ve never been good at waiting, Drake. We can be all tender and gentle later. For now, I just want you to fuck your wife.” She punctuated the last words by biting down lightly on his earlobe. Letting out a groan, he brushed her hand away and lined himself up, sinking into her. He hadn’t wanted their first time as a married couple to feel like some frantic quickie, but it had always been nearly impossible for him to deny her anything. So he started rocking his hips into her, reveling in the feel of her around him. The scrape of her nails along his shoulders. Her breath across his cheek.

As he shifted his stance slightly to fill her an angle he knew would be better for her, he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror. There it was, a gold band on his ring finger, resting along her spine. It was almost hard to look away, so he just kept staring at it, soaking in the sight that proved they were married. It mixed with the feel of her hands digging into his skin and her legs hooked around his back, the sound of her breathy sighs and whispered “fucks,” the taste of her skin of her neck, and the smell of her peach body wash, spurring him on and increasing his pleasure.

Sensing that he was heading towards his peak a little quicker than she was, he tore his left hand off her back, sliding it between their bodies. He glanced down to where they were joined, his thumb circling roughly right above that, his ring pressed against the skin of the thigh he clutched. He slammed his eyes shut and dropped his face into the crook of her neck, not needing any additional stimulation. But soon, he felt Riley’s leg clench around him a little more.

“Are you close?” he murmured into her ear.

“Yes,” she moaned out, arching her back slightly. He wasn’t sure if she was specifically answering his question or not, but her response was enough of an answer regardless. Picking up his pace, Drake stroked his thumb harder. He knew he was seconds away from release when he felt her clench around him. He barely was able to recognize her climax before he shattered, spilling into her as he groaned into her skin.

After a few breathless moments, Drake felt his awareness returning. He slid out of her and shifted up, reaching behind her for a washcloth off the rack, dropping a kiss along her cheek as he stood up fully and helped her off the counter.

He wanted to tell how much he loved her. How much he would always love her. How he would always try to prevent her from ever regretting today. But any words he could think of didn’t feel like they were enough to actually describe his feelings, so he settled for gentle caresses and light kisses as they got cleaned up. Before they moved to go to their bedroom to get dressed, Drake grabbed her wrist and tugged her back to him, kissing her deeply.

“I’ll make us something nice for dinner, Liu. Okay?” he said as he pulled back, running his hand through her wet hair.

She nodded and gave him a bright smile before responding, “And I have an idea for dessert.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, “You have an idea in the kitchen?”

Riley just shook her head. “Yes, you ass. And not only will I not mess it up, but I know you’ll like it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, Riley having thrown on some acoustic cover songs in the background and lighting a couple of candles they had leftover from their Valentine’s dinner while Drake cooked up a couple of steaks, some roasted potatoes, and some sauteed frozen squash. It wasn’t a perfect meal, but he thought he’d done a decent job finding something special for them out of their stock. He’d been surprised when Riley had set their glasses of whiskey on the coffee table instead of their dining table, but he got it once she’d tucked her legs under herself and curled up against his side on the couch. It was cozy and warm and intimate and felt right for the way they’d gotten married.

After they finished eating, Drake started loading the dishwasher and soaking the pans while Riley dug around in the tall cupboard they used as their pantry and then pulled something out of the fridge.

“You better not be baking something,” Drake told her over his shoulder, “Eggs are too hard to find these days to use them in a kitchen adventure of yours,” chuckling lightly as he felt a towel whip between his shoulder blades.

“If you’re done being a smart ass, I’m ready for you.”

Drake shut off the faucet and turned to face her, a smile slipping onto his face as he took in the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars on the counter.

“I know it’s not exactly a wedding cake, but I figured we could do s’mores over the stove,” she said, settling in next to him.

“It’s perfect, Riley,” he said, slipping his hand into hers as he noticed an apple sitting off to the side, “but why the apple?”

“Oh, well I thought we could still do the apple-cutting,” she said with a little shrug, placing her chin against his shoulder, “I mean, I wasn’t sure if someone else needed to be there for this tradition or not, but I just thought it might be nice.”

Drake squeezed her hand, grabbing a knife out of the block and handing it to her. That she had remembered the one Cordonian wedding tradition he’d mentioned incorporating into their reception and thought to do it today was so perfectly her. Not snarky her, when she was annoyed at others or the world or at him. Not playful her, who would tease and laugh and lighten the room. But thoughtful her, who saw forgotten and neglected and broken people and made sure that at least for a moment, they felt seen and heard.

“So, just carve your initials,” Drake instructed, reluctantly dropping her hand so she could pick up the apple.

“Old or new?”

“What?”

“My old initials or my new initials?”

The weight of the day hit him again. Maybe this wasn’t the wedding they’d planned, but it was still their day. Their commitment. Their promise. And that meant more than having Maxwell as the officiant or getting married where his parents did or hearing toasts from Liam or Hana ever could. Watching the woman he’d loved for years, who he knew he’d love for all the years ahead, carve “RW” into that apple was plenty special.

He knew Riley could read him and his mood. She had always been good at that even before they lived together, so it didn’t surprise him that she kept quiet as he carved his own initials into the apple, then cut out a slice for them to share. She had to know he was dangerously close to being overwhelmed, so she didn’t push, just ate her portion of the apple before taking a step to the side and lighting one of the burners. After spearing a couple of marshmallows onto two forks, she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the stove with her. They toasted their marshmallows without saying anything and without letting go. They were ready to face the good and the bad, together and united. The world was changing, but their world felt steady and sure.

Permatag: @ravenpuff02 @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley--walker @notoriouscs @butindeed @axwalker @drakesensworld  

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer @ao719 @ooo-barff-ooo @sunnyxdazed  

Change of Plans: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @burnsoslow​

[moonwaif]

FFXV Halloween Week 2020: Day 7

@ffxvhalloweenweeknsfw

Monster of the day: Witches

Theme: Spells/Potions

Scenario: Halloween Party (games, pumpkin carving, etc)

Mod’s choice: Black Cats/Familiars

NSFW: Costume play 

Pairings: Gladnis

Rating: M

Tags: Sex Magic, No actual sex, Awkward Conversations, Getting Together, Paranormal Investigators AU, Enthusiastic Consent 

(Also on Ao3)

---

As an official member of the C.D.D.S. (a.k.a. Chocobro Daemon Destroyers Squad, as dubbed by Prompto), Gladio has a pretty flexible relationship with the word “normal.” However, even he has to admit that nothing about the current investigation is anywhere near the realm of normal.

First there’d been that weird purple envelope with the heavy wax seal. Inside was a letter from one Ardyn Izunia, written in flowing script and kindly soliciting their services at Zegnautus Keep—an old castle, located somewhere in the distant mountains of Niflheim. This was also weird. Sure, the C.D.D.S. may have been well-known exorcists in Lucis, but they weren’t exactly world-renowned. On top of that, Izunia claimed to be an acquaintance of Lord Regis, yet Noct didn’t know him. Gladio didn’t know him. Neither did Ignis, or any of Lord Regis’s old acquaintances. And when Prompto did a websearch, it came up empty.

That probably should have been a sign, Gladio thinks, striding through the castle halls. He glances at the giant portrait of Izunia smirking down at him, framed by cobwebs and moldering tapestries. Its eyes seem to follow Gladio as he passes, its smile shriveling in the shadows. The real Izunia had been just as disconcerting when they’d met him. But Noct had been in a slump since his father’s death. Noct had been depressed. That meant Ignis and Prompto were depressed too, and this seemed like a good chance to get away from it all. Besides, Noct was curious. He wanted to know more about this mysterious acquaintance of his father. So they stuck around, and when they were unexpectedly joined by the Nox Fleuret siblings, who Izunia had also commissioned—well, they figured the more the merrier and tried to be on guard.

 What catchy name will Prompto give this particular case, Gladio wonders? Something about hubris, maybe. Something about old gods. Before anything specific can crystallize, Gladio is already at the set of massive, iron-laid doors. They groan as he yanks them open and steps into the castle library.

 Ignis is still exactly where Gladio left him—hunched over a desk, hidden behind a stack of books. “How are they?” he asks, not even bothering to look up.

 “Stable,” Gladio answers, “at least for now. The curse on Ravus is spreading. Luna still isn’t responding. Cindy’s looking after them.”

 “And still no sign from Noctis?”

 “The planchette hasn’t moved in the last half hour.”

 “Dammit!” Ignis slams the book closed and tosses it aside. He makes a steeple with his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We should never have come here.”

 Gladio draws up behind Ignis’s chair. In the dim light, he can see loose papers full of obscure runes, time-weathered pages penned in tightly-scrawled ink. If this were a normal gig, they’d have wrapped everything up by now. They’d have subdued the spirit, and if that wasn’t possible, exorcised it. The client would be shoving fistfuls of money at them and weeping tears of joy. Ignis would have food on the grill. Gladio would be setting up camp for the night. Prompto would be complaining about EMF detectors and other technical jargon while uploading the latest footage to their blog. And Noct would have been loafing around, watching all of them with a contented smile, asking when dinner would be ready.

 Gladio gives Ignis’s shoulder a squeeze. “What’s done is done—no use beating ourselves up over it. We’ve gotta keep our heads clear if we're gonna help Noct.”

 Ignis sighs heavily. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Gladio. I lost myself for a moment.”

 “Don’t sweat it. Now are you sure you haven't found anything?”

 Ignis drops his hands to leaf through a book. “Nothing about those marks on Ravus’s arm, or what could be strong enough to entrap the most powerful medium in Tenebrae.”

 “What about the portal?”

 “No definitive answers, but nothing that contradicts our initial theories, either. Noct and Prompto are most likely caught between the two realms.”

“Which means Luna’s still our best shot at reaching them. Damn.”

“About that . . .” Ignis shifts in his seat, turning to face Gladio fully. “There is one thing—an old tome, written in Solheim runes.”

Gladio perks up. “You think there’s something in there that could help us get to Noct?”

“Possibly. There is . . . a spell.” Ignis removes a book from the stack. It’s dark and fat. Any markings on the cover have been completely worn away. “A ritual, to be precise. It enables the caster to send spiritual energy to a soul trapped between Eos and the spirit realm.”

“All right! I knew we could count on you, Iggy.”

Gladio claps him on the shoulder. Ignis slumps under the weight. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

There’s something about Ignis’s expression that Gladio can’t put his finger on, but he doesn’t have time to parse it. "Which components are we missing? Anything we can substitute?"

"We have all the necessary items. It’s just, this spell—well, it requires two people."

Gladio nods. "Cool, so we'll tag team it out."

Ignis winces. "I really wouldn't be so quick to say that if I were you."

"Why? Does it require a sacrifice?"

"Of sorts.”

Gladio raises a brow. Ignis closes his eyes. When he opens them, it’s with steely resolution.

“It's a book of sex magic, Gladio."

 ---

It takes less than five minutes to move all the furniture, less than ten to finish drawing the array around the bed. After all, Ignis isn’t the high witch of the Lucis Caelum clan for nothing. He lights the candles with a snap of his fingers while Gladio sets out the bowls of sylleblossom petals and animal fat—six in total, one for each of the Astrals. Then both of them step into the array.

Gladio removes his jacket. He suppresses a shiver as Ignis draws his thumb along his chest and abdomen, leaving behind a maroon sigil. He stays very still as Ignis unbuttons his own shirt, and when it’s his turn to copy the sigil, he tries very hard not to stare at Ignis’s pecs, or the freckles on his stomach.

Ignis clears his throat. His entire face is red, from his neck to the roots of his hair. “Next we present the offerings. If you don’t mind, I can go first.”

“Be my guest.”

Ignis reaches into the pocket of his trousers. “This pendant was given to me by Lord Regis when I was still a child, in honor of my appointment as the high witch’s apprentice. I have since kept it with me out of respect for the Lucis Caelum line as well as for good fortune. I offer it today as a token of gratitude and good will to the Astrals and to the elements, that they may grant Lord Noctis their aid.”

He sets the pendant in one of the bowls of sylleblossoms (Gladio definitely does not admire the muscles in his shoulders and back when he bends over).

Gladio reaches into their satchel of supplies to remove his own offering. “I brought cup noodles.”

Ignis stares at him.

“Um.” Gladio shifts uneasily. “These delicious noodles are for the Astrals, so that—”

“Just put it down,” Ignis snaps. “In one of the bowls.” He waits until Gladio is finished. When he speaks again, his voice is somewhat softer. “Gladio, before we go any further, are you sure about this?”

Gladio squares his shoulders. "You said it should be the two people closest to the target of the spell. Out of all those conscious and present, that's you and me."

"I know, but you shouldn’t feel obligated. There may be other ways. I could keep looking. I could—”

"Ignis. I want to do this."

Ignis exhales deeply, with a sort of resignation. "Very well."

"What about you?” Gladio asks. “Are you good? If not, me and Cindy are pretty tight. She hasn't known Noct for that long, but maybe if I talk to her, she and I could—"

"No.”

The response is forceful—loud, even. Ignis pauses to adjust his glasses.

“The principal caster should be an experienced magic user,” he continues calmly, “which is me. And if it has to be anyone, I'd rather it be the two of us."

Gladio decides not to read too much into that last statement, but he does feel a little smug.

"So," he asks, "what next?"

"Eager, are we?" Ignis remarks dryly. "Just stand there, for now. And follow my lead."

He turns to retrieve two goblets from the bedside table and hands one to Gladio. The liquid is fragrant with cloves and other herbs. Next, Ignis links their arms together, so that they're each holding the goblet before the other's lips.

"Repeat after me," Ignis says. "Ic bescence þe mīn ferþ . . ."

Gladio repeats, understanding only every other word. But he trusts Ignis, so when the goblet tilts toward his lips, he drinks until it's drained.

"Now then." Ignis's entire torso is flushed now, and Gladio is sure it has little to do with the wine. "I suppose this is the part where we go to bed."

"If that's what the spell says," Gladio concedes.

The mattress creaks as they both take a seat on the edge. Ignis perches very stiffly, arms and legs drawn close to his body.

"So." Gladio leans back on one hand, stretches his legs—pretends to be much more relaxed than he really feels. "How specific are the details of this spell?"

"Any act of intimacy will suffice," Ignis says quietly. "So long as the fertile essences are spilled by both parties."

Well then, Gladio thinks. It shouldn't hurt to look, right? He is, after all, an expert in looking at Ignis—though mostly through stolen glances, or carefully neutral gazes. Now he lets his eyes roam freely. Ignis is slender without his shirt—his shoulders broad and sinewy, his waist narrow. Myriad freckles and moles pattern his skin. Gladio wants to reach out and run his hands over every single one. Instead, his eyes snap up to Ignis's face. Ignis stares back, expression inscrutable. He leans forward, and Gladio inches toward him, arm raising instinctively as he prepares to—

"I've never done this before," Ignis blurts.

Gladio falls back. He blinks, then scratches his head with a chuckle. "Yeah, this is my first occult sex ritual, too."

"No, I mean, I've never done this with anyone, ever—being intimate."

Oh.

"Is that a problem?" Ignis presses.

"Of course not," Gladio says. "I'm just . . ."

Ignis's lips curve in a rueful smile. "Surprised? The role of the supreme high witch doesn't allow much time for romantic escapades. Unfortunately, I'm not very experienced. I hope it won't be too unenjoyable for you."

He says this with his typical flat, sarcastic affect, but there's something tender underneath. Something dark and edgy.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy it," Gladio assures him. "You're perfect, Iggy. Everything you do is perfect. But are you really okay with this? Kind of an intense first time."

"I'm okay with it. Actually, I . . ."

He pauses, gaze darting to the floor. Gladio waits with entirely feigned patience. By the time Ignis looks back up, his entire body feels like it's on fire.

"I've always wanted it to be you," Ignis says.

A raspy, trembling breath escapes Gladio's lips. With it goes the last few tattered shreds of his composure. "Iggy. Fuck, I—I'm gonna take such good care of you. I want to make you feel good, Iggy."

Ignis takes Gladio's hands and guides them to his waist. "I know," he says. "I trust you."

[the-lupine-sojourner]

The Tale of Astoria Kenobi [Prologue] [Obitine and Anidala featured] [Dad!Obi-Wan/Daughter!OC]

Please be aware before you read this that I am by no means an expert at all things Star Wars, much as I would like to be.

So please understand that there are more than likely errors in what I've written, especially with the timeline.

Please don't jump down my throat, as the errors are unintentional. I tried to make it as accurate as I could, with my current understanding of the Star Wars lore. If you spot anything wrong, please gently point it out so I can correct it and be patient with me. I'm still learning the lore.

Okay so the initial post I made about Astoria got some interest, so I’m putting in an impromptu taglist. Let me know if you want to be added! 

Tagging: @forcearama​ who created the Scandalore/Obitine Secret Marriage AU I’m using in this story, @elite-guard-hardygal​ for being the first to express interest in my OC, @sunshineisdelightful​ for being supportive about my Obitine baby lol, and @fwtcanimelover​ for also being interested in being tagged in this fic. 

You guys honestly helped me not be as nervous about diving into this story. 

Anyway, I will let you guys read the story now and I hope you all enjoy it!

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(I think I’ll let this GiF kinda serve as the cover, I guess. I love it!)

Meetings in back alleys and secluded corners of Mandalore was not uncommon, a pair of hooded figures no exception as they near each other.

"Is it true?" A man's voice asks, simple hooded robe around his shoulders, the hood lowered as he addresses the woman before him, who smiles in greeting as she lowers her own, more ornate, hood.

The woman, Duchess Satine of Mandalore, knew what this meant, for both of them, but she didn't care. It was well worth it.

"...Yes, love. It is. I'm 3 months along now."

The breath the Padawan before her, Obi-Wan Kenobi, releases is full of terror of the unknown, wonder at the power of creation, and anxiety about their next move.

The man she loved was always so conflicted, it seems. She puts a comforting hand on his cheek. "Darling, we'll work it out. Somehow." She assures him, wishing she knew the words to ease his worries and fears.

"I fear this is an impossible task."

"Nonsense. We've been married six months now and no one's the wiser, not even your Master Qui Gon."

That was a valid point, but Obi-Wan suspected Qui Gon either knew or was growing suspicious.

There was another problem Obi-Wan saw arising in the future… "But when the child is older, when they connect with the Force, how will we-?"

"You once said the Force connects with random people, correct? If that is so, we'll pretend it is a miracle and she'll report to the Jedi Temple for training. She'll be- -"

"It's a girl?" Obi-Wan asks, breathless, hardly aware he was interrupting in his excitement at the news.

His hand goes to feel the slightly swollen stomach, eyes on his wife's abdomen as if to see his growing child.

Satine smiles serenely, hand over her husband's. "Yes. I just found out the gender myself, actually. And if she is to be a Jedi, I'll act as if I have no idea how she developed these powers."

Much as he wanted that to be enough, Obi-Wan knew better, his smile faltering before leaving altogether. "That won't work. The Council will know as soon as she steps foot in the Temple." He takes a breath. "I fear they could already have their suspicions."

Satine breathes a heavy sigh. She loved Obi-Wan, truly she did, but he could be rather paranoid sometimes. "We won't feed any rumors. We'll act innocent."

Obi-Wan smiles almost sadly, knowing it won't do much, if anything, to delay the truth coming out.

But, for Satine's sake, he could act like it would work.

So he puts a tender hand on her cheek, easing her in for a kiss. "Let's hope that's enough."

=#=#=#=#=

"Mommy mommy!" A five-year-old voice cries out, the only warning Satine had before she was pounced on by her daughter, Astoria. "Wake up, Mommy!"

Satine groggily sits up. "What is it, Astoria?" She asks, rubbing her eyes as Astoria burrows almost painfully into Satine's lap.

"The funny man says there's a ship here. He says it's a Jedi ship." Satine's heart skips a beat. Obi-Wan wouldn't appear unannounced like this without something dreadful happening. He'd done this when Qui-Gon was killed and he was suddenly Knighted with a Padawan to train. She'd been woken up by him easing himself through her window. He'd arrived in the dead of night and snuck past her guards.

She hoped it wasn't too serious this time. "Really?" She asks, managing to keep a level voice, scooping her daughter up and setting her on the floor as she stands to get dressed.

"Yeah, but not Uncle Obi's ship." Over the brief five years Satine had been blessed with Astoria, she had always told Astoria that Obi-Wan was something of an uncle, since Obi-Wan was such a close friend of hers. The truth about Astoria's father was a topic Satine avoided almost at all costs, unwilling to have that conversation with her child yet.

It pained both Satine and Obi-Wan horribly to not be truthful with their daughter, but they agreed it was better for everyone that they not tell Astoria and maintain their lie.

"Oh?" Satine turns as the door opens to reveal the 'funny man' Astoria had mentioned. Astoria was still too young to fully understand why the armored men followed them around, and as such referred to the guards collectively as 'funny man'. Especially the captain, whose helmet seemed to amuse Astoria.

"Afraid not. A Jedi by the name of Master Fisto wishes to have an audience with you, my lady." The captain reports, having stepped into the room moments before. Satine is intrigued, but also has a gut feeling she knew why the Jedi had shown up so unexpectedly.

Hurriedly, she dresses in her usual green, purple, and blue outfit, wanting to appear presentable to the Jedi Master.

Then, she takes Astoria's hand and follows the captain to the throne room. There was a member of the Nautolan race, his tentacles serving as a kind of hair halfway down his back. He turns as the doors open and greets the Duchess and her daughter with a warm, wide smile, nodding and half-bowing in respect to Satine and waving kindly at Astoria.

"Ah, Duchess Satine, what an honor." He says with a deep, charming voice. His eyes were large and black, subtly unsettling at first, but his personality soon set Satine at ease.

"Master Jedi. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Satine asks, accepting a kiss on the knuckles from the Jedi, who seems to ooze manners and charisma.

"I'm afraid it's official Jedi business, madam. Regarding Astoria." Satine's heart skipped as Astoria, settled in her mother's lap as usual, looked at her mother with curious eyes.

Satine had known this day would come. Now came the part where she acted clueless.

"What about my daughter?" She asks and gets a feeling this Jedi knew that she knew what this was about, but humors her with an explanation.

"Are you aware of the Force?" He asks.

"In some aspects, yes. I understand it's what you Jedi use to keep the peace, correct?" Satine replies. She'd picked up much of the Jedi customs during her time under Jedi protection and marriage to a Jedi Padawan, and didn't need to act like she didn't.

"Yes. The Force guides every living thing, and reveals those it has chosen to be future Jedi. Those who have a strong connection to the Force ought to be trained how to use it properly, at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant." Satine frowns, arms around Astoria protectively.

"And you believe my daughter has this connection to your Force?" She asks, knowing the answer. After all, there were already signs Satine had seen of the Force within her daughter.

Astoria had once drawn herself with Jedi robes on, saying she wanted to be just like Uncle Obi one day. She'd then stated that she could make things move like her 'uncle' and proceeded, after several moments of intense concentration, to make her drink move the short distance to her outstretched hand.

There were a few other instances of precise throwing of toys that shouldn't be possible in a girl her age.

How the Jedi knew Astoria had a Force connection was beyond the Duchess.

"We've seen it, Duchess." Master Fisto replies as if he had heard the Duchess' thoughts. "I understand your hesitance but believe me, it is in Astoria's best interest." He explains, and Satine reluctantly decides to hear him out before making any decision.

"How so?" She asks, "As I understand it, the Jedi go to unknown worlds and oftentimes are involved in combat and war. I hardly see how that is in Astoria's best interest."

"As a mother, I can only imagine how difficult this is for you." Fisto says placatingly and Satine could tell he meant every word. "However, we Jedi go through much training as younglings before we are assigned to a Master for further intense training. Astoria will not see combat for many years."

"Mommy, are we going to Coruscant?" Astoria asks excitedly. "Are we gonna see where Uncle Obi works?" Satine had explained briefly about Obi-Wan's status as a Jedi, referring to it as a job.

Astoria had heard of Coruscant, but had never left Mandolore.

"...I'm...not sure, darling." Satine replies, mind stormy with indecision. Kit Fisto hums to himself in thought.

"Perhaps the Counsel would allow you to come with Astoria and me, so you may see for yourself where Astoria will be staying and training." He suggests. "Would that help ease your conscience, Duchess?"

"If it could be done, that would greatly ease my mind." Satine concedes, thinking it highly unlikely the Jedi Counsel would allow an outsider, much less a Mandalorian, into their secret temple. Obi-Wan had told her how carefully the Temple was guarded.

Kit Fisto bows at the waist, smiling happily at this turn of events. "I will contact them right away, if you like."

Satine nods. Best to see what arrangements might be made for Satine going to the Temple or not before she made a decision. "Astoria and I must excuse ourselves for our breakfast. Perhaps you can join us when you are through with the Counsel?" She offers, wanting to make a fresh start between Mandalore and the Jedi. Kit Fisto smiles brightly.

"I would like that very much. I'll step outside for a few minutes, and join you shortly." Satine rises, nodding to the Jedi before walking out of the throne room.

"Can I bring my toy blaster?" Astoria asks excitedly as they walk. "I can show Uncle Obi!"

Satine chuckles. "We have to see what the Jedi says once he's talked to the Counsel, Astoria." She explains gently. "But if we do go to Coruscant, you may take your toy blaster. I cannot guarantee we will see your uncle, but if we do, I'm sure he'll love your toy."

=#=#=#=

Kit Fisto, on the other side of the doors to the palace, chuckles to himself.

What he had thought was a simple negotiation for a future Jedi was turning out to be something very intriguing.

For one thing, the Duchess was surprisingly civil and courteous with the Jedi, beyond some understandable doubts about what he was suggesting.

For another, Astoria held a connection to the Force that surprised him. It felt...well, it felt exactly like the new Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi's connection.

That meant Obi-Wan had some explaining to do.

Fisto then had a realization; Satine and Obi-Wan, if they had indeed formed enough of an attachment to each other to have a child together, they would know better than to let anyone know of what they'd done.

Fisto found that he couldn't see himself turning them in. He rather liked Obi-Wan and didn't want to see the look on the boy's face when it was discovered that he had violated the Jedi Code. Especially since Obi-Wan had just lost his master and barely begun training that new Youngling, Anakin Skywalker.

Kit Fisto decided he would do what he could to make sure his friend's secret remained hidden.

His conference with the Counsel was short. They were in agreement that it was best for all parties if Satine came with her daughter to Coruscant. The tension between the Jedi and Mandalore had been high until Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had been assigned to protect the new Duchess. If they wished for true peace, they had to be willing to make a few concessions.

Normally, the Force-sensitive child was brought back to the Temple without family members, but refusing to allow Satine, such a high-ranking official of Mandalore, to accompany her daughter may raise tensions again, undoing the progress made toward peace.

Fisto thanked the Counsel and once more entered the palace, asking a guard where Satine and Astoria would be eating breakfast.

A few minutes later, he found the pair eating and laughing together. He chuckled as he walked closer. "I have good news." He calls, and the laughter slowly dies. Satine motions for the Jedi to sit on her other side, across from Astoria, who smiles at him around a mouthful of fruit.

"Chew and swallow, Astoria." Satine orders gently before turning to Fisto. "They'll allow me to come with you and Astoria?"

"Yes, in the name of peace between Mandalore and the Jedi. You understand this is an exception to the rule."

Satine nods, unable to believe her luck. "Yes, I am sure. I will tell them how grateful I am when I meet them." She replies.

"I would hate for Astoria to have any trouble adjusting to life in the Temple. It seems harsh to separate you two immediately, given how old Astoria is." Kit Fisto continues, looking at Astoria kindly.

Satine frowns. "What is the average age of the children you bring to the Temple?" Obi-Wan mentioned he was very young when he was brought to the Temple, but he'd never given an exact age.

"I'm afraid it's a deal younger than Astoria is, but the Force doesn't always select the new generation of Jedi at the same ages. However, she is still young enough to begin her training."

"I see."

"Madam, if I may, I have watched a few classes of Younglings from arriving in the Temple to being selected by a Master. All of them have been treated very well and grow up with everything they need provided to them."

"I know, Master Jedi." Satine replies, eyes still sorrowful. "As a mother, however, it pains me that I won't see her grow up." Kit Fisto feels an immense sympathy for Satine. He knew it was a very difficult thing, giving your child away like this.

"Believe me, I understand how painful this must be, but there is hope. We are not forbidden from contacting our families if we choose. Astoria will be permitted to talk to you at fairly regular intervals, and even perhaps make a few visits."

Satine finds that comforting and nods. "Thank you."

Fisto smiles (an expression he used often, Satine notes). "Not at all, Duchess."

By noon, Astoria was ready to go. Fisto had explained that she would be provided Jedi robes, so there was no need to pack clothes. However, he conceded to let Astoria bring a few personal things and two pieces of jewelry.

Satine took off a necklace around her neck when they were left alone.

It was a simple crystal, purple in hue, and still in perfect condition. Obi-Wan had found the crystal, claimed it was a good luck charm, and strung it craftily on a strong chain, putting it on Satine when he first confessed attraction to her. It seemed fitting she pass it on to her daughter now.

"Come here, Astoria." Satine calls and Astoria comes over from deciding what three toys she'd bring. Astoria spots the necklace and seems to know her mother wanted to put it on her. "Your father would want you to have it." Satine says, remembering the way Obi-Wan had smiled at her as he proclaimed it would bring her good luck and protection.

"Really?" Astoria asks eagerly, drinking up any information about her father like a dry sponge.

"Yes. He is so proud of you, you know." Satine felt suddenly ready to cry, even though they would not be separated yet. She desperately wished Obi-Wan were here. He'd make this so much easier.

Astoria slips the necklace under her shirt before hugging her mom. "Thank you, Mommy!" She chirps and Satine felt the sadness temporarily ease as she hugs Astoria.

"Come along now, darling. Let's not keep Master Fisto waiting."

=#=#=#=#=

The trip to Coruscant was rather uneventful. Kit Fisto was in his own ship and could not answer Satine's burning questions about what Astoria was getting into.

She did, however, have an opportunity to slip into a small side room and contact Obi-Wan to tell him the news.

"Darling, I have news." She says when he picks up. Obi-Wan smiles at her and walks a few paces, probably to get somewhere a tad more private.

"What is it?" He asks.

"Astoria and I are on our way to Coruscant." She says. Obi-Wan frowns.

"Is everything alright?" He asks.

"Quite. We had a visit from a Master Fisto, and it seems the day has come for Astoria to begin her Jedi training." Obi-Wan's eyes go wide. Neither of them had much of a clue as to what they'd actually do when the time came for Astoria to begin training.

"I see. Unfortunately, I won't be able to train her myself. I have Anakin to worry about." Satine nods. Obi-Wan had told her all about Anakin.

"Not to worry. Master Fisto assures me she'll be well looked after, no matter who she's trained by."

Obi-Wan nods. "Oh, I'm certain she'll fit right in here at the Temple." His eyes turn sad and Satine knows duty called. "I'm afraid I have something to take care of. Send me a signal when you make the final approach and I'll see if I can meet you." Satine nods, blowing a kiss in their traditional farewell before ending the transmission.

Suddenly, Satine didn't feel as upset and anxious as she had about this development. She'd soon see her darling husband, leaving their daughter in him and Fisto's more than capable hands.

Perhaps one day Astoria would learn the truth about who she was and would forgive her parents for their deception.

[secret-engima]

Oo! For your Nox verse you mentioned Axis and now I'm all ears for anything you're willing to talk about for the Kingsglaives. Is Axis Nox's assigned guard? Does Noctis have one he's close with like you hinted Arra is for Nox? Does Regis assign *Ardyn* a glaive? It might give more reason for him to interact with Titus? Just what is the Kingsglaive in general's reaction to the chancellor being not that bad actually and basically defecting to Lucis?

(cracks knuckles) Anon. ANON. Kingsglaive are a fav okay? I am always willing to talk about them. ALWAYS. In this AU though, Axis is not actually a glaive. The Kingsglaive was only formed a few months after Nox and Ardyn time-traveled, and Nox met him sometime not long after arriving in the past, so Axis was wandering around taking Hunts to get by. Axis, upon meeting Nox “I’m going to single-handed blow up ALL the Nif’s stuff” Izunia ended up tagging along a few times and then just … never really stopped. Be ends up becoming Nox’s official Shield after Nox is discovered by Regis, but honestly considered himself that well before (because someone has to keep these moron, and his uncle by extension, alive). Nox gets to know the rest of the galahdians through Axis after he’s discovered.

For the rest of the glaives (who are actual glaives in this), Noctis … I don’t think he has a particular favorite? Nox starts dragging Noctis down to the glaive HQ to “train” with them (read: play with them and endear himself to them) so Noctis kinda ends up adopted en masse by these guys (though honestly Tredd might glom onto being Noctis’s buddy/reckless older bro just to spite Axis, because how DARE his buddy in crime get his own LC and not share with Tredd?). Regis assigns the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard in rotation to guard Ardyn because Chancellor of Niflheim, but Ardyn’s trolling tendency weeds out 98% of the Crownsguard pretty fast (Ardyn: ”It’s not my fault they can’t take a joke!”). Titus, being also Glauca (and secretly Ardyn’s newest minion) tends to volunteer himself after the first five trolling sprees just to keep this moron (who is also somehow his boss, Astrals save him) from driving the entire Citadel nuts.

For your last question. Hmmmm (straps on HC hat) warning this is gonna be LONG:

-Nobody in the glaive is happy when they learn that the Chancellor of Niflheim is a guest (actual guest, not prisoner) in the Citadel. The fact that he’s going to remain a guest for the indefinite future because their King apparently had a kid with the Chancellor’s sister just makes it worse. Nobody is happy and some Potentially Traitorous Things are often mumbled half-heartedly over their alcohol in the first few days when only the Crownsguard are allowed near him (mostly just different ways of calling Regis an idiot, nothing actually harmful or murderous). The glaive however, don’t think the Crownsguard are going to stay Ardyn’s primary keepers for long. Not just because of their general disdain for the organization that prefers to hide behind the Wall rather than fight, but because all of them saw Captain’s face when Ardyn’s arrival was announced. It was the same face he wore the last time the Nifs unleashed a trio of Behemoths onto the field. The one that screamed “Damage Control Inbound” and “This is Going to Become Our Problem and We’re All Collectively Doomed”.

-Then they actually start getting assigned to the man and he’s … nothing like what they were expecting. There is no brilliant tactician, no cunning, poison-tongue politician. No enemy infiltrating their second home using his own nephew as leverage. There’s just a man in tacky clothes and the world’s Dumbest Hat who hides from the irate doctors who insist he needs medical intervention for his weight and general health problems Right Now and only lets Captain or his nephew bully him into eating more than a single meal per day. There’s just an uncle who teases his nephew mercilessly but never lets the boy get lost in his own head (which is too easy for the kid to do, they all recognize the signs of Battle Trauma) and dotes on their crown prince like he’s a long lost nephew rather than the son of the Lucian king.

-There’s just a very, very tired soul who they sometimes find in the Hall of Arts, staring up at the picture of the Founder King and First Oracle with deceptively blank expression and a faintly cracking voice as he sings something Ancient that sounds like a lullaby for all they can’t understand the words, swaying to the melody of his own song like he’ll topple and shatter the moment someone puts pressure on the wrong place.

-Nyx is the first one other than Captain to find him like that, and for all he wants to hate the man who represents Niflheim (represents the empire that burned Galahd and killed his sister), he instead finds himself coaxing Ardyn away from the Hall with gentle words and steady hands, just like he would any of his brother or sister glaives. Nyx mentions it to Captain later, which is how he and the others learn that this isn’t an uncommon occurrence. That they should keep him away from the Hall of Arts if they can.

-It’s the first sign that Ardyn isn’t a vicious leader of monsters playing nice to trick an enemy, but a broken, tired man using his nephew as an excuse to finally escape his glittering cage of “Chancellor”.

-None of them are quite sure what to make of that, so they watch, they listen, they learn. …They get attached. Grudgingly. One prank and melodramatic smile and accidentally witnessed quiet moment at a time. There are a lot of sides to Ardyn Izunia, like the individual fragments of a broken mirror, and somehow the glaives keep being allowed to stumble on them. Somehow they keep getting attached to the shards, one by one and moment by moment without realizing that Ardyn is getting attached in return.

-Until one day, on a good day when Ardyn is wearing his Cheerful, Melodramatic Self and the glaives are hiding their snickers in the corners as they follow him like shadows, two of the King’s Council meet him in the halls. Look down their noses with contemptuous eyes, just like they do the glaives themselves and (in that uniquely flowery way only politicians can) start insulting Ardyn under the guise of casual conversation. They watch, seething despite themselves, as Ardyn takes it, smiles through it, tilts his head like he doesn’t know exactly what they are doing. Libertus finally ducks out of the shadows, bites out some made up excuse of Ardyn’s presence being requested by Cor (the councilmen wouldn’t prevent the Marshal’s orders from being followed and wouldn’t ask him about it later and discover the lie), grinds his teeth when the two councilmen turn their flowery poison on Libertus and the Kingsglaive (the Galahdian refugees) as well. Just like they always do.

-In the middle of taking a step to follow Libertus away, the glaives see Ardyn go still as a painting. See blue eyes sharpen like blades and then-. He turns around in one fluid movement, like it was intentional all along, his easy smile still in place but now dripping an unstated sort of malice that takes the glaive by surprise. They watch, gaping and confused, as Ardyn suddenly transforms into the monster they expected to find those first weeks he arrived in the Citadel, the vaunted Niflheim Chancellor who could ruin people with a smile and a few honeyed words. Where a moment ago he’d been passively taking insults, now Ardyn runs verbal mazes around the two councilmen, ripping them open and stripping them down to their barest, ugliest parts all while never dropping his friendly, polite mien. Somewhere in the “conversation” (massacre), the glaives are pretty sure Ardyn blackmails the two councilmen into supporting a bunch of refugee support programs that, as a technical enemy politician, Ardyn should not know about and they are definitely sure that Ardyn manages to pull it off while simultaneously insulting the two men’s family lines all the way back to the era of the Founder King. By name.

-As he suddenly bids the sputtering councilmen good day and trails along after a wide-eyed Libertus and a long-suffering Captain who arrived somewhere in the verbal massacre, his footsteps silent and predatory when around the glaive he’s always been easy and noisy (to let them know he’s there, to ensure he cannot startle them), the glaive realize that Ardyn is every inch the monster they were expecting. Every centimeter the poisonous, deadly politician they complained about before getting to know him. He just … doesn’t bare his fangs at the people that, by all conventional logic, he should. Somewhere along the way, this Niflheim Chancellor decided that he was more loyal to the line of Lucis and the ragtag refugees called the Kingsglaive than he was his own empire, and that if hiding his claws and acting oblivious around disapproving, snobby nobles was what it took to stay rather than having to return to his own country (his prison), then he would.

-Over drinks, they all agree Ardyn Izunia, former Chancellor of Niflheim, is the scariest person they’ve ever seen. And that they are all really glad he’s on their side.

(hope that satisfies your Ask, Anon! It … spiraled out of my control)

[slippinmickeys]

Release Valve (1/10)

This is the first fic I wrote when I came back to the fandom last year--it had been almost 20 years since I’d written my last X-Files fanfic. I plan to release it here, one chapter per day. 

This takes place directly after Fight the Future, and goes AU after that -- meaning S6 and on do not exist in this universe. I do have a sequel planned, but have not yet had the time to sit down and write it. 

It had been five months since Antarctica, and he could still feel the sharp cut of cold air in his nose, the crunch of snow under his cheek as Scully held him close, half his clothes gone, half himself protecting her. It was August in DC, the air hot and thick with car exhaust and pollen, the humidity at 100%, and there were still times he thought he might never be warm again. He leaned back in his chair at his seemingly permanent temporary desk in the BCU bullpen and picked up his phone, bored. Muscle memory dialed the number for him and she picked up before the second ring. “Mulder, I have a class starting in less than ten minutes,” she said, without so much as a hello. “You know this.” He sighed into the receiver. “I’m bored,” he said. “Yeah,” she replied, the touch of frustration gone from her voice, replaced with a casual empathy. “Me too.” “Want to get lunch later?” “I can’t,” she said, then added, “Skinner’s assistant called me this morning. I have a meeting with him at 1:30.” “Today?” He asked, incredulity creeping in. “Yes, Mulder. Today. Listen, I’ve got to go, I’ve got students coming in. I’ll call you after class.” She hung up without saying goodbye. He tipped his chair back as he hung up the receiver and looked up to a familiar hulk approaching his desk. “Agent Mulder,” Skinner said, giving him an assessing look. “Sir?” “I’d like you to come by my office at 1:30.” “Today?” Mulder said, once again. Boredom turned him peevish. “You have somewhere else to be?” “No, sir.” At that Skinner nodded and stalked off. So. Both he and Scully had been called in. This was either really good, or really bad.

When he came into the anteroom outside Skinner’s office, Scully was already there waiting and there was a maintenance worker in the process of removing Skinner’s name tag from the door. He and Scully shared a look of raised eyebrows and he plopped down next to her on the couch with a touch of petulance, the wind coming out of his sails. Maybe this wasn’t a good news meeting after all. At that moment a young agent came walking in, nodding at Kimberly.

“I’m supposed to see him at 1:30?” He said to her. He had a short, choppy haircut and thick preppy glasses. He pulled at his tie like he wasn’t used to wearing it as Kimberly directed him to a chair opposite Mulder and Scully. He plopped down and gave the armrests a little drum, clearly not a kid who was used to sitting still. Skinner popped his head out of his door then. “Agents?” He said expectantly. All three stood up and Skinner turned to the third man. “Stone?” “Yessir?” “Give us a minute.” “Yessir.” He plopped back down. Mulder and Scully exchanged another look and followed Skinner into his office. “I have some news,” he said once they were all settled. “The OPR recommendation finally came down.” “Don’t keep us hanging,” Mulder said, trying to keep the glibness out of his voice. “The X-Files are being reopened,” he said. “I’m sensing a ‘but,’” Scully said, leaning forward. “Less of a ‘but,’” Skinner went on, “more of an ‘and.’” “And?” Said Mulder. Skinner looked at them a moment without saying anything. Assessing or deciding, Mulder couldn’t quite figure out. “Your budget has increased,” He finally said. “You’ll have two more full-time agents assigned to the unit.” Scully’s face fell, and Mulder leaned back. “Not to sound ungrateful,” Mulder said, holding up a hand, “but our recent experience working with other agents on cases associated with the X-Files has not gone all that great.” He remembers the five o’clock shadow scrape of Krycek kissing his cheek. Shoving Spender into a wall. The latent smell of cigarette smoke and a basement full of ash. Skinner leaned back. “I’ve been promoted,” he said, looking at each of them in turn. “To Deputy Director. I’ve been given authority to shape and oversee the X-Files unit.” Skinner let that sink in a moment before going on, his tone indicating that this wasn’t a negotiation. “Agent Mulder will be the X-Files SAC. You’ll be giving the orders to the agents under you and will have hiring and firing approval.” Mulder shot a look at Scully. “What about Agent Scully, sir?” “Quantico has requested she stay on there to teach.” Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but Skinner raised a calming hand. “Technically, she would be an instructor in residence at Quantico, but assigned to the X-Files as official consult. Able to take leave from teaching whenever needed in the field or at the Hoover.” He gave Scully a pointed look. “The decision is obviously hers. Quantico wants her, but so do I.” “So do I,” said Mulder quietly. Scully tucked her chin to her chest, her eyes to the floor. Neither of them had been quite expecting this. Skinner leaned back and gave them a moment. “I thought you’d be pleased,” he finally said. Scully looked at Mulder. “I can’t speak for Agent Mulder,” she finally said. “You can,” Mulder said with confidence. Off his look, she continued. “But I’d like nothing more than to continue our work.” “Great,” said Skinner, “It’s done, then.” He rose. Mulder made to get up too, but Scully spoke. “Sir,” she said, “what about the X-Files? The actual files, sir. The ones destroyed in the fire?” Skinner resumed his seat. “Kimberly had begun digitizing them months ago,” he said, off of Mulder’s surprised look. “She was able to save most of them to a secure server. She said the only ones she hadn’t gotten to were those from the last year or two.” Scully looked at Mulder. “I should have those on my computer,” she said to Mulder, “you should too. After the most recent Executive Order, we’ve been required to keep digital copies of all reports since almost that long ago.” “My laptop was in my office when it burned,” Mulder said flatly. “If I’m not mistaken, yours was, too.” Scully gave a pinched look and Skinner once again stood. “About that,” he said, walking to his office door and gesturing outside. The young agent who’d been outside waiting walked in and Skinner pointed him to an empty chair around his conference table. “This is Agent Stone,�� he said, “He works in Computer Sciences and Crimes – he’s been working to restore the destroyed computer units from your office.” Off a surprised look from the X-Files agents, Stone shrugged. “Standard procedure. Evidence conservation and protection.” “Were you able to save any of our work?” Mulder asked. Stone looked at him. “I was able to save all of it,” he said. “And I want in.” XxXxXxXxX “I don’t understand,” Scully said at last. Skinner nodded his head at the young agent. “He’s here for a job interview. He’d like to be one of your two new X-Files agents.” Stone sat up, animated. “I’ve obviously read all the files on your computers,” he said, “and when I was done with those, I read all the digitized files.” He looked at them both keenly. “I’ve read every single X-File. It’s fascinating work. I want to do it. I want in.” Scully raised an eyebrow. “You’ve read every file on a secure server?” “I, uh, may have hacked it,” he said, momentarily sheepish. He nodded toward Skinner. “I came to the Assistant Director with my concerns on just how secure it is. I can help you with that. I can help with a lot. I know I’m pretty green, but I’ve read your files back to front and I know I can help you.” Skinner looked to Mulder. “Your discretion,” he said. “Your unit.” Mulder appraised the young agent for a moment and turned to Skinner. “I’ll want a full background check. If there’s so much as a hint of Morley smoke anywhere in this kid’s past, he’s gone. He doesn’t come near the X-Files OR our computers. If he passes that,” he turned to look at Stone, “trial basis. As short or long as I see fit. This isn’t a tenured position.” Stone sat up straight, smiling. “Yes, right. Sweet. Awesome. Yes.” XxXxXxXxX These men. These men who would do anything for a hairsbreadth of power. She’d been kidnapped, micro chipped, infected with a malignancy. They’d taken her ova and her career and the love of her life more than once. She couldn’t watch the news without seeing their malevolent machinations in every third disaster. Don’t even get her started on Colony Collapse. If she could kill every one of them and film it, she’s convinced snuff would become her kink. But maybe… Maybe they had a chance now. To bring down the Syndicate. To bring down the Smoking Man. Cautious optimism was still a pretty generous name to put to it, but she finally felt if not a sense of hope, at least not the Sisyphean doom and gloom from months before. She looked over her glass of wine at Mulder. He’d shown up, energized, practically bouncing up and down at her door, bearing pizza and Chianti. “I’m surprised you didn’t put up more of a fight on Stone,” she said. Mulder shrugged. “Maybe it was the high of getting the X-Files back, but I also don’t want to look a gift Skinner in the mouth, if you know what I mean.” “I know what you mean.” The terms of getting back the X-Files was best case scenario. It was probably too good to be true. “He seems young,” she added. “He IS young,” Mulder said, “I went over his file this afternoon. Graduated at 20 from MIT and recruited straight out of graduation. He’s only been a full agent in the Bureau a little over two years.” “Any field experience?” “None.” “Oh boy.” Scully took another swig. “What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm,” Mulder said. “I’m hoping I can train him up my way.” “The suits are gonna just love that,” she deadpanned, and Mulder smiled. He leaned back on her couch and fished an errant piece of pineapple from his shirt collar. “How you can eat that on pizza, I’ll never understand,” Scully said, standing and bussing their plates back to the kitchen. Instead of taking the bait, Mulder blew out a sigh, his mind elsewhere. “I don’t even know where to start on finding someone for the other position,” he said. “If we’re not careful and don’t do it our way, we’re going to end up with another fucking Krycek.” Scully winced and made her way back to the couch, tucking her feet under her on the other end. She tried not to look at the space by her door where Melissa died. “I may be able to help with that,” she said. “Oh yeah?” Mulder leaned forward. “I have a student,” she started. “Not another baby agent, Scully,” Mulder said, “we don’t have the budget for a nanny.” “She’s new to the Bureau, yes,” Scully went on, “but was a beat cop and made detective extremely fast. Ten years with the LAPD before she went Fed. She’s smart, Mulder. She asks all the right questions.” She waited a beat. “She reminds me of you.” “Devastatingly handsome and hard to love?” Scully tucked her chin to her chest, not meeting his eyes. She made a decision then, hard and fast. “I’ve never found it hard to love you,” she said quietly. XxXxXxXxX There it was. They hadn’t talked at all about what happened in Mulder’s hallway before Antarctica. Mulder wasn’t even sure she remembered it and it had been too awkward to ask. “Scully,” he said. She still hadn’t looked up, so he reached out a finger and swept it gently down her leg. She looked toward him and rested her cheek on her knee. “You deserve to know,” she said, “after everything we’ve been through.” Her voice was husky. His pulse started to race. His finger was still on her leg and he fought the urge to skim it higher. “You know, if you’re officially stationed at Quantico, it’s not fraternization,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he came off glib or flirtatious. He wasn’t sure of anything. Scully reached for her wine and took a measured sip. “Are you coming on to me?” She said. Flirtatious. Jesus. His throat bobbed. “I’m coming over with wine more often, is what I’m doing,” he said, reaching for his own glass to cover for his nerves. “En vino veritas?” Scully said. “The veritas has always been our problem, Scully. Maybe the vino is the solution.” XxXxXxXxX “Mulder,” she said, rising up on her knees. She reached up and ran a hand lightly over his cheek. She’d never just come right out and said how she felt about him. Before the bee thing in his hallway, a surveillance chat about root beer and iced tea was as close as they’d come. Enough, she thought. She wanted to kiss him, but the timing didn’t seem right. This was too profound a moment for them. She knew if she kissed him, she’d be outside herself instantly and right now she didn’t want to miss a thing. He seemed to push into her hand slightly, leaning into her touch. His eyes never left hers. His cheek was sandpapery under her fingers and she remembered that fingertips have more nerve endings that most places on the body. Most. “Let’s get our unit put together,” she said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.” Almost six years of ghost hunting, she thought, and flashed on the industrial smell of hospital sheets, the acrid tang of gunpowder. Mulder loping off on his knight’s quest to find his sister, Scully the squire at his side. He was six feet of rumpled suits and taut muscles and she’d fallen in love with him years ago. Hopelessly, stupidly, embarrassingly in love with him. He cracked bad jokes on stakeouts and mumbled her name in his sleep – of course she wasn’t going anywhere. XxXxXxXxX She leaned forward and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek. He tried not to let his disappointment show. “Yeah,” he said, his voice husky, too. “Yeah.” He leaned back, banking the fire on the moment. She grabbed the glass out of his hand, which he hadn’t realized was empty, and took the rest of their meal detritus into the kitchen. He rose. “Send me the file on your candidate, would you?” He said, making his way to her door. He took his time putting on his coat and lingered in the doorway. She came over slowly and stood in front of him, close. “Scully?” He said, his hand on the doorknob. He leaned forward so their foreheads were almost touching. He needed to say it before he lost his nerve. “I love you, too.” He practically ran outside then, his blood thrumming. It took everything he had not to crow triumphantly at the moon. XxXxXxXxX Jasmine Isaacs. 36 years old. African American. California native. Highly decorated detective with a great solve rate. Single, no children. The kid thing grabbed Mulder by the collar first thing. It was good to have no kids. Just another thing to use against you. He leaned back in his chair and blew out a sigh, his thoughts turning depressive. What a fucking way to think, he thought. That children -- most people’s high point--were just another tool in the arsenal of the Consortium. The basement office felt different. The smell of paint fumes still permeated the space. It was a different shade of grey than the last one, off by just a touch, which grabbed Mulder’s eye every time it strayed from the file in front of him. He’d gotten a new I Want To Believe poster from the same place on K Street where he’d gotten the first one, a throwback to a simpler time. They’d done a bit of work on the office in the refurbish – got rid of the wall leading to the annex and managed to squeeze three small desktops into the space. He thought Scully’s should be bigger than the other two and considered clearing off a different area to make it more senior looking. She had her own office at Quantico and it was probably twice the size of the entire basement. Good, he thought. She deserved that. He turned back to the candidate’s file in front of him. She looked promising. Had a high solve rate. Nothing in her background suggested an ulterior motive, nor highlighted a weakness the Consortium could exploit. So far, so good. If Scully wanted her, so did he. Stone seemed into the paranormal shit. Isaacs could be the level-headed counterpart. He wanted to get them both into a room and see what happened. Isaacs graduated from Quantico next week. Scully walked in then, the smell of the street still on her clothes. Hot dog vendors and fresh air, the amniotic petrichor of the Potomac. He could hear the elevator doors close as she sloughed off her coat. “How goes it?” She said as a greeting. He flipped the file closed and casually tossed it on his desk. “What a time to be alive,” he said.

[mrs-mikko-rantanen]

Lost

Ok. I’ve been sitting on this for long enough...2430 words of angsty sadness. I’ll put warnings in the tags as well, but it does deal with the loss of a pregnancy, so please be careful if that may trigger you. (We do get to see some Brotp Bonding though, so I mean there is that at least.) modern au

   “Whoa, hey now,” Thane said as he crouched down on the ground next to Avanda, “Crying on the floor in the storage closet is kinda my gig. Not gonna lie, Av, you’re kinda stepping on my toes here.”

   Avanda sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes. “Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute. Do they need me in the hospital?”

   “No, I came looking for you myself.” Thane said as he reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You seemed off earlier, I wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

   Avanda forced a laugh. “I’m fine.”

   “No, you aren’t. What’s going on?”

   Avanda shook her head, smoothing out the fabric of her shirt. “Nothing. It’s nothing, really.”

   “That may just be the biggest lie you’ve ever told me.” Thane said, shifting into a more comfortable position, “Now c’mon. You’ve been acting weird all night; I haven’t even seen you drink a cup of coffee, what’s going on?”

   “You can’t tell anyone.”

   Thane smiled a little. “Hey, I’ve kept your secrets before. What’s one more?”

   Avanda took a deep, shaky breath and nodded a little. “I was...late,” she started, “Like...two weeks late. So I took a test, and it came back positive.” She laughed bitterly, “I was so excited I took three more, just to be sure, and they all came back the same. So I waited a while, ya know, trying to figure out how to tell Ewan, and then today...I was going to tell him tomorrow...when he got home from work, but today…”

   Thane’s face was a mask of concern as his hand rubbed up and down Avanda’s arm as she cried now, trying not to tear up himself as he connected the dots of her fragmented story.

   “I had cramps in my back all day, and I felt tired, and-and I went to the bathroom, and there was blood, there was a lot of blood, Thane...And now, I have no idea if the tests were just....wrong,...or if...if I......lost…..” Her hand came up to her face now, covering her mouth as she started sobbing again.

   Thane pulled her into a hug, running his hand over her braid. “Oh Av. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He murmured. “Is there any chance…?”

   Avanda shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

   “God, Av.” He pressed his cheek to her hair and sighed. “I’m so so sorry. Does anyone else know?”

   She shook her head, “I wanted to tell Ewan before I told anyone else. Just me and my doctor, and you.”

   Thane nodded. At least people won’t be asking...He didn’t say it out loud. But it was a small comfort, at least. “You should go to your doctor, though. I mean, maybe…”

   “Yeah.” Avanda hiccupped, “I’ll give her a call. I’ve gotta go clean myself up…”

   Thane stood up, taking her hand and helping her to her feet as well. “It’s--” He stopped, deciding that some phrases were better left unsaid during times like these, even if they were the only words you knew to say. So instead he told her: “I love you, Avocado. And I’ll be here for you, ok?”

   Avanda sighed and wiped her eyes again. “Yeah...yeah, thanks Thane.”

********

   Thane found Avanda in the small break room an hour later, her head resting on the table, her hands clasped under her chin.

   “I haven’t seen you sit like that since we were studying for finals and you were trying not to fall asleep while Carina made flash cards.” He teased gently, setting the Styrofoam cup down in front of her. “Decaf.” He said with a small nod to the cup as she sat up. “Just in case.”

   “Thanks.” Her voice was like sandpaper as she wrapped her hands around it, not moving to drink it.

   Thane glanced out the door quickly to make sure no one was walking by that might overhear them. “Did you call your doctor?”

   Avanda nodded a little. “I have an appointment at 9:30. First one of the day.”

   Thane nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Do you want me to drive you in?” He finally asked.

   “Yes please.”

   He smiled at her and nodded. “I’ll see you at nine, then.”

   “Thank you.”

********

   Thane’s leg bounced a little as he sat in the waiting room with Avanda. He’d asked if she wanted him to wait with her, or if he should stay in the car. He didn’t want her to feel like he was hounding her, but he didn’t want her to feel like he was abandoning her, either. He had been relieved when she had asked him to come in with her.

   She looked a mess, if he was being honest. Her flannel was buttoned crooked, and her braid was frayed. She had opted to wear her glasses instead of her contacts, which was a first in a long time. Even on days when she had a migraine she still put her contacts in, claiming that they were more comfortable.

   He squeezed her hand a little as the door opened, a nurse popping her head out and calling Avanda’s name.

   “Come with me, please.” She said, looking at him before she stood. “Please, I don’t think I can do this alone.”

   Thane nodded and stood up with her, still holding her hand. “Of course.”

   They followed the nurse to the exam room, and he waited outside while Avanda changed into a gown. She opened the door and he stepped in, returning to his post at her side as she sat down on the exam table.

   “It’s gonna be ok, Av.” He whispered. “God, I’m sorry. I know it’s- that’s gotta sound really insensitive, huh? Like, how would I know? I just meant--we’ll get you through this.”

   “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand a little. “I knew what you meant.”

   “Good morning.” The doctor stepped into the room, a professional smile on her face. “You must be the father.” She reached a hand out for Thane to shake.

   “Oh, uh no. No, I’m the uncle actually.” He said, shaking her hand. “Thane.”

   “I see.” The doctor nodded to him a little before turning to Avanda. “And how are you feeling this morning?” She asked.

   Avanda sighed. “Achy and tired. And I had a low-grade fever this morning before I left home.”

   The doctor nodded before taking a seat next to Avanda and setting up some things that Thane couldn’t quite make sense of. “We’re going to start by taking some blood, send it to the lab for them to look at, and then we’ll do an ultrasound and see what’s going on, alright?”

   “Alright.” Avanda’s voice was small as she laid her head back on the pillow, her hand shaking in Thane’s grip.

   Thane smiled at her as she turned her head away from the doctor, her eyes screwed shut as the needles came out.

   “Hey, remember that time Ny tried to do a blood draw on you?” He asked, trying to distract her a little, “I can’t believe Cael and I were able to hold you down.”

   She gritted her teeth a little and winced as the doctor pricked her arm.

   “You’re doing good. She’s only taking a little.”

   Avanda nodded. “I know.”

   “All done.” The doctor said with a forced cheerfulness. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

   Avanda said nothing, her head turning back to the doctor.

   The room fell rather silent as she set up for the ultrasound. Thane watched the screen with Avanda, eyes glued to the black and white on it, hoping and praying for news to be good.

   “Well?” Avanda finally asked.

   “Well,” The doctor said slowly, “It’s...not looking hopeful right now.” She admitted. “There are one or two more things I want to look at first though, before I make an official diagnosis…”

********

   “You won’t tell him?”

   Thane looked up at Avanda now. She had cried the whole way home, and upon their return to the apartment she shared with Ewan, had locked herself in the bathroom for about two hours. Thane had taken to stress baking, making enough cookies to feed the Renegades until the war was won. Avanda stood before him now, her hair unbraided and wild around her tear-stained face.

   “Of course not.” Thane said, drying his hands on the dish towel he’d thrown over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

   “Thank you Thane. For everything, really. I just…” She sank into the chair at the table, and he slid the plate of cookies over to her.

   “The doctor said she wants to see you again on Friday,” Thane said hopefully, “There’s a chance…” He trailed off as Avanda shook her head.

   “I don’t think there is. I think she was just trying to give me hope.”

   They were silent for a long time, both of them picking at the table a little.

   “Will you tell him?” Thane finally asked.

   Avanda sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I should. I just...I don’t want him to hurt as badly as I am.”

   “He would want to help you.”

   “I know. But...why bring him the pain just so that I don’t have to carry it alone?”

   “So that you don’t have to carry it alone.” Thane said, “You shouldn’t have to, Av. You two are in this together. You always have been. Let him help you.”

   “I don’t know if I can. Maybe if I get good news on Friday…”

   Thane sighed. “Do you want my opinion?”

   “We both know you’re going to give it to me whether I want to hear it or not.” Avanda scoffed, crossing her arms. “May as well spit it out.”

   “I think you should tell him. I think you should tell him, and should let him go with you on Friday. If you get good news, then awesome. You’ll be far enough along that you should be able to hear the heartbeat for the first time, and he’ll get to hear it with you. If you get bad news? Well then he’ll be there to hold you and to sit with you through that too.” Thane leaned forward, taking her hands in his. “If you are making a new life with him, I think that he should get to be here with you through the good and bad and all in between.”

   Avanda nodded a little. “I suppose you’re right.” She whispered. “I just...I don’t want him to mourn what he didn’t even know he had.”

   “But doesn’t he deserve that right?” Thane asked.

   “I suppose so.”

   “I love you, Av. And I know you’re going to make it through this. I just hope that you don’t feel like you have to make it through this alone.”

********

   Avanda fidgeted with the sleeve on her flannel. “Ewan...Love, we need to talk about something.”

   Ewan looked up at her, eyes quizzical. “Of course, Lass. What is it?”

   “I, uh…we…” She laughed a little, feeling the tears start. “I can’t do this. Here.” She pulled out the box, and offered it to him.

   Ewan frowned a little. “What’s this?”    “Just...open it.” Her stomach was tied in knots. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, this was wrong. She had put the tests in there, expecting him to be happy when he opened the box, and to stay happy. He wasn’t supposed to open it and smile, only for her to drop a bombshell on him before he even really knew what was happening. She couldn’t watch as he pulled the lid off and removed the four positive pregnancy tests. She couldn’t watch as he started smiling, laughing a little as the meaning sank in.

   “Av, are you serious? Really? Are you--” He frowned as he looked up at her, seeing the tears streaming silently down her face. “Are you crying? Babe are you crying?” He stood up, walking over to her as she nodded. He laughed a little. “Sweetheart, why are you crying?”

   “Because that’s not all.” Avanda pulled away from him, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I’m sorry.” She sighed, wiping tears away again. “I think...I was going to tell you sooner; but then something happened, and I think...I think I lost the baby.” She stared at the floor as she whispered the words, speaking them for the first time.

   Ewan was silent, digesting the information. “Have. Have you seen a doctor yet? Do you know for sure?” His voice was tight and she could tell he was trying to hold himself together.

   “I went to the doctor. She said that she wanted to see me again on Friday. She couldn’t ...say for sure.”

   “What time is your appointment?”

   “11:45.”

   “Can I come with you? I'll leave work, I'll come meet you at the doctor's office.”

   Avanda nodded.

   Ewan pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head as he held her.

   “I don’t think we’re going to get good news.” She said, her arms wrapping around his waist. “I don’t- I’m sorry.”

   “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Ewan said, kissing her hair. “Nothing.”

   “I should have told you-”

   “Stop.” Ewan said softly, shaking his head, “Just, stop. You didn’t do anything wrong in any of this. That’s not how this works. I love you, and I’m going to stay right here with you, the whole time. And if we don’t get good news on Friday, then so be it. I’ll still be right here with you.”

   Avanda said nothing. She just stood there, crying. He was the only reason she was still standing. Her legs had given out a while ago now, leaving her leaning against him. He didn’t waver as he held her.

   “And if we do get good news on Friday,” He said as he ran his fingers through her hair, “Then you and I are going to be in for one hell of an adventure, Lass."

********

            Ewan squeezed her hand tightly as they waited for the doctor to say something, anything.

           "Well?"

           "I'm very sorry, Miss Alistarion."

            Ewan let go of her hand, pulling her into his arms as tightly as he could as she wailed, her hands scrabbling against his bullet proof vest.

            And just as quickly as the joy had come in, it had been swept away again. Hopes that neither of them had really realized that they had were dashed away, dreams that they never knew they had dreamed were shattered; leaving them clinging to each other and sobbing in the doctor's office.

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

Here are some canon angst Anya and lexa hcs I’m posting before the fluff storm that is clextober. @lykoscor and @houpkomslakgedakru asked to be tagged. All of this eventually is gonna fit into my wells lived au. Thanks to @lexascandlestores for reading this mess first.

I don’t know how to tell you about Lexa and Anya. There is so much you need to know that if I started at the first time they met it would almost be a lie of omission.

Here is where we can start. Anya is a teenager, barely a warrior, her palms are calloused but she can still count the amount of people she’s killed on one hand. She’s in a battle, a terrible battle, reapers raid a village of innocents because their chief refused to give up victims to the mountain. That same chief had done it on purpose, hoping to draw the reapers out. Anya, young as she was, assumed that to be part of the plan. That they were killing reapers because reapers needed to be killed. All thoughts of loyalty to her chief vanish the moment she watches him kneel to one of the cannibals, crying for his brother to return to him again, the reaper cuts his head off. The warriors are running around like chickens without proper orders and its Anya that pulls it together, grabs the younger seconds she still knows, their firsts follow in line, and within hours each and every reaper is dead.

Anya is supposed to be promoted, anyone else would’ve been, but Anya isn’t trikru born, only half, and they bestow upon her the great honor of training up a nightblood child. Babysitting. And because she embarrassed so many seasoned warriors she was given the runt of the litter too. A tiny little bruised thing afraid of her own shadow. She finds Lexa at the bottom of a pit her fellow nightbloods dug for her, tricked and trapped, and Anya informs her that Lexa can find her own way out.

Anya trains her under the assumption that Lexa will die. She doesn’t want to get attached, already watched a fool chieftain burn a village and get himself killed for the sake of family and she refuses that fate for herself.

But Lexa loves her, unabashedly, unassumingly. No matter how much Anya pushes, no matter how much she insults, degrades, Lexa follows doggedly at her side, determined at every step, failing nonetheless. It isn’t until Anya forces them on a hunting trip right before a storm that Lexa breaks, shivering in the cold, sobbing at the sounds and the lights. It should make Anya feel better, solid evidence against hope, the girl would never survive if she was afraid of a lightning storm. But Anya finds herself comforting Lexa, finds herself realizing that somewhere along the way she loved her too. Anya decides that Lexa will survive, she’ll give Lexa no choice.

After that she trains Lexa harder, forces her harder, sometimes she will just have her run, for hours, as she threw things at her. Lexa grows hard and strong and skilled, but Anya has them train in private so to all the other nightbloods she isn’t a threat. Anya begins to plot against the strongest of them - Luna - who’s fury drives her to kill with a knife like precision, and her brother who is half her size but twice as fast, there’s others, they’re all intense, but Anya begins working Lexa on how to defeat each and every one of them.

But the commander dies, finally, sheidheda was a fucking nightmare, and it’s time for the conclave. Anya can’t lose Lexa though, she can’t, and Lexa’s not ready, she’s not. So Anya grabs her arrows, her sword, her spear, and she sneaks in, intent on making sure Lexa wins. And it’s not a purely selfish move because the reality is: without Anya’s help Luna will win. Luna will win and she’s a fucking psycho, she loves the taste of blood, she’s an excellent fighter but she delights in it, she’s too fucking angry all the time, she’s furious, and that might be why she’s Titus’ favorite but she’s not gonna be a good commander, not when the last one was of the same breed. Lexa will be a good commander, and sure, so would any of the other kids who weren’t Luna, even Luna’s little brother, but if Anya’s gonna kill Luna she might as well kill everyone else too.

Anya waits and hides at first, only killing one who happened to cross her path, and one who was trying to fire an arrow at Lexa. Luna’s the favored to win so Anya can’t come right out and kill her, has to be careful about it. Luna kills her brother first, Anya watches her do it. For a second, the millisecond after Luna kills her brother, Anya almost changes her mind, she almost turns back. Because, okay, the look in Luna’s eyes after slicing open her own flesh in blood, the defeated sadness of a warrior twice her age, Anya almost thinks Luna would make a good commander after all. That some part of her was human after all. But then Luna’s too human, and she runs in the other direction, runs and runs and runs. And Anya knows what she’s doing is right.

Lexa only kills two of the actual novitiates, Anya kills another two more before the conclave ends. Lexa finds out immediately after, it’s not hard when Anya never bothers to hide anything from her, and Lexa sees Anya’s clothes covered in black blood. But by that time it’s too late, and Lexa’s already ascended, so Lexa doesn’t formally banish her, can’t officially, but Titus is equally furious and Lexa has to do something, wants to do something because how dare Anya get involved, she had it handled, she could do it, it was her responsibility to do it, and now they’d never know if Lexa was meant to be commander. And Anya feels sorry about that, because one thing about being the runt of the litter is you never quite grow out of your inferiority complex, no matter how much you achieve, and now Lexa will never believe she was meant to be commander, will be insecure and unsure of her every decision. (What Anya doesn’t know is with the Flame Lexa has more people to consult, doesn’t feel like the burden is always on her, and will grow more sure as time goes on, but still, for those first several months she’s fucked up over it.) So Lexa sends Anya away. She sends her to far away campaigns on the ice nation border, sends her to patrol forests and get rid of bandits, sends her to help poor villages hunt and force rich villages to give up their meals. It seems like she’s honoring her first like every good second should by giving her this huge army and place as a general but she sends her on pointless mission after pointless mission and Anya misses her second, her friend, her mentee, her kid sister. She misses her. Sometimes she consoles herself with her best tracker, Echo. Echo is beautiful and loud and smart and quick and she keeps up with Anya and the two of them sometimes go out in the mornings alone together, hunting, laughing. Echo uses all of her two inch height advantages against her to press her against a tree and kiss her and Anya realizes she was a moron for not knowing she was in love with her. It’s right around that time that Anya gets a letter from Lexa requesting her presence in Polis for the annual ascension day, the letter seems like nothing but a formality, seconds respecting their firsts and so on, but to Anya it’s a revelation. Lexa’s finally reaching out, Lexa’s finally ready to forgive her.

She and Echo race to Polis hand in hand, Anya telling her stories all along the way of baby Lexa learning how to wield a knife and nearly cutting off her hand, or how when they first met Lexa was afraid of thunderstorms. When they get there Anya discovers it wasn’t Lexa who wrote the letter but a handmaid named Costia, a woman who tells her that Lexa misses her, needs her, but won’t admit it, and Costia knows because Costia loves Lexa too. Anya is happy Lexa’s found love and thinks maybe it changed things between the two of them. Lexa greets her formally though Anya can sense her agitation at Costia, senses a fight brewing between the two of them that Costia doesn’t care enough to apologize or avoid it. Lexa and Anya have a stilted dinner, Costia offering to show Echo around the dinner. Lexa attempts to end it early but Anya won’t let her and drags Lexa out to train. They spar and Lexa demands to know why Anya got involved in what was supposed to be a sacred ritual - the most sacred ritual. And didn’t Anya believe in her? Anya tried to explain fear, not just fear of losing someone but the more intrinsic fear we all feel, petrification. If she had watched Lexa fight from high atop Polis tower she would’ve been petrified, frozen in place and terrified, not just for Lexa but for the future. She couldn’t do it, it was her own weakness that brought her to the conclave not Lexa’s, and she knew that Lexa would win, once Luna left Lexa was fully capable of taking on everyone else. But she didn’t want Lexa to get hurt, she couldn’t stand the thought of Lexa getting hurt, because she loved her. It’s not a revelation to Anya but it is to Lexa and Anya realizes, with no small amount of regret, it’s the first time she’s said it to Lexa. Lexa’s staring at her, like maybe she’s never heard those words said to her without the words “no one will ever” prefacing them. They don’t hug, they don’t grab arms, but Anya forces herself to put a hand on Lexa’s shoulder and repeat it, and Lexa stares at her for a long time, her mouth hanging open, until it begins to get dark and they walk back into the tower. But when they get back to the tower Costia and Echo are gone.

When neither return in the morning Anya and Lexa begin to panic. For three months they attempt to track them down, the search brings them closer together as they go to the very edge of border villages, asking anyone anything and everything. They sleep in the same room, sometimes Lexa still needs to be comforted through a thunderstorm and Anya feels strength return to her body, a sureness in her step, a purpose she hadn’t felt since flinging things at Lexa across sandy beaches.

It fades as the two of them learn Echo’s story through whispers and rumors passed down and passed around. The queen’s right hand, her favorite spy. Too many things line up, too many things make sense, how eager Echo was to go with her, how easily Echo fell into bed with her, how they were lacking supplies in the beginning, almost as if they had more people than expected.

Lexa doesn’t forgive Anya. She never outrightly says it but they know it’s true. Lexa goes back to Polis to play politics, Anya keeps searching to play general, a month later she’s informed she has a new campaign and on her journey to the new location a bar keep tells her they found Costia’s head in a box on Lexa’s pillow.

Sometimes Anya thinks about how bored Echo must have been at first, how frustrated she must have been when she discovered the first and her second had a falling out. But Anya knows now she’s not a being who can survive without love, she hopes Lexa will learn that too, but instead of being reckless and falling for another spy, or a girl so useless she might as well have been made of kindling like Lexa did, Anya takes another second. Tris is smart, she’s strong, she’s from Anya’s old village and there’s something in her eyes, a spark, she’s quick on her feet and so talented. Anya pours all her love into her, since Lexa won’t even respond to her reports anymore, and she almost feels whole. One day Lexa assigns Anya to a disturbance near TonDC, an enemy force of no more than a hundred. She knows Lexa’s planning a war against the mountain and this is the closest she’ll ever get. So she goes.

As she stays there she feels the full force of Lexa’s revenge. The chieftain of the village is Indra, a more senior warrior with a wayward son and daughter. The daughter Anya only hears about through mutterings of the children, the son Indra immediately introduces to her. She asks that Anya give him a job and like when she was a child, forced into Lexa’s waiting claws, she knows this is nothing more than babysitting. Indra is not Lincoln’s mother, but she might as well be. Lincoln and Indra hold as much antagonism as they do love for one another. Anya learns its because a great loss in their families brought them together, Anya learns the loss was named Costia. Lexa gets her revenge so slowly and carefully but so cleverly Anya is proud of her. Just as Anya made her feel ashamed of winning the conclave, forced to live with that shame, so now does Anya live with the shame of her own foolishness. Perhaps it is that distraction of Indra, or the desolation she feels when she looks upon Lincoln, that has her guard down, walking towards a blonde girl on a bridge. It is the last stupid decision she will make, and the one that will kill the last person who returns her love.

For the record, Echo admired Anya but she didn’t love her. In the end, Echo was a professional and she knew how to hold herself back and hold herself in. She respected Anya, thought her a good warrior and general, a serious threat, but didn’t love her. She did for a moment, while she was dragging Costia away, regret her actions, obviously it was too late to go back, Costia had seen her face, had been begging and pleading for mercy, but she could’ve had a home in Anya, could’ve loved her someday. She didn’t very much want to hurt her. If she ever saw her again, Echo had decided, she would apologize. Echo sees her again in the mountain, Nia sent her on a mission to watch the sky people and she got captured, Echo doesn’t apologize, Anya doesn’t notice her. Echo lives with her regret forever.

Also for the record, Nia had put Echo in Anya’s army because Titus had helped her, he helped her every step of the way, Echo reported to Titus all of Anya’s happenings who was able to report it to the azgeda ambassador who reported to Nia. It wasn’t Anya’s fault for bringing Echo, it was Titus’. Titus killed Costia, and he knew that, but lied to Lexa to keep his power and to devalue Anya more.

Lexa eventually does learn this when Titus makes his attempt on Clarke’s life and the bullet hits the wall beside Lexa. She doesn’t for awhile but once he’s imprisoned and Clarke is gone and even the nightbloods speak in hushed tones around her the dots begin to add up. When she confronts him about it he admits nothing, Lexa writes to Roan, he admits everything. Titus, when Roan was in the courts, was a frequently quoted figure, his letters were good sources. Titus admits to aiding in Costia’s capture and murder, he claims that Lexa was letting her love for her cloud her judgement, when Lexa questions why he ordered Echo to bed Anya Titus explains that he wanted Lexa to see the full effects of love. What Lexa hears is he wanted to be the only one he trusted. He claims to have colluded with the azgeda just in case she tried to go to war with them over Costia. He wanted a safety plan in place so the coalition didn’t go to shit just because Anya intervened. Lexa realizes that Anya was always the one to believe in her, and Costia, and Clarke, and never Titus.

When she had first learned of Anya’s death she had thought she was another example of love failing the warrior, the leader, the kyongedon. A disappointment for such a worthy general, a stab of pain and regret, wishing they had left things on a better note, at one point wishing the first she’d been trained by had survived, who she had only caught a glimpse of again while they searched for Echo and Costia.

Now, as she stared at the braid she kept in a locked chest in her closet, next to Costia’s, she could only think of loyalty, the consequences of secrets and assumptions, and of the words she never said to Anya but had felt since that first meeting. When Anya hadn’t treated her like a pitiful burden, had challenged her and believed in her, and had taught her that she was capable of more than she knew. Lexa had made it out of the pit Anya found her in eventually. Anya knew she would. Anya always knew she would.

[purfectmlpblog]

...alright fuq it lemme explain my thoughts about the finale spoilers lol

Don’t worry, I WILL be posting this under a read-more so PLEASE turn away and ignore this now (especially with some “spoiler” tags on if you use ‘em) if you don’t want to be spoiled for the finale until it officially airs. I just can’t contain my thoughts no more after ponderin’ them and who knows when it’ll officially air in English (’cause slow schedules can be a pain to deal with lol) sooooo... yeah you’ve been warned xp 

...Ooooh boi, well admittedly I kinda skimmed through what the whole plot was about behind the last three episodes (I was moreso focused on all the stuff happening for “The Last Problem” so lol), but I’ll try to keep it brief for the most part:

-So... that whole thing about Grogar being the last “big bad” was just a total lie... since apparently it was just Discord masking himself as the guy just to give Twilight one last battle to face? ...Ehhh, I get that he apparently had “good intentions” but this just seems to be pushing it too far even for Discord’s standards tbh... like these are his friends now (including Fluttershy, his best friend) so why would he allow this much risk to be thrown at them for the sake of just teaching them a valuable lesson about overcoming obstacles? ._. Then again, this IS Discord we’re talking about so him pulling some shady stuff like this is to be expected, I guess? Idk...

-As another twist to the trio of bad guys... NONE of them get redeemed at the end (not even Cozy Glow... who again, is nothing more than a whiny child compared to Chrysalis and Tirek :P), as they all pretty much get blasted with the same stone spell that Discord was under for what I can presume to be forever. I mean... had Sombra been placed in Cozy Glow’s position then I guess I’d be a bit more satisfied with this kind of ending for them instead of feeling questionable about it (’cause again, Cozy’s young age ^^;)... but at the same time, for what it is it’s at least a refreshing change of pace from just having them all instantly forgiven and befriended by all the main heroes. Now that would’ve been cringey... >_<

-We got a reaaally big group of cameos from many past ponies/other creatures from the show to aid in the final battle, including Sunset and a few of the MLP movie characters like Tempest, Capper and Skystar! o.o A shame that Captain Celaeno couldn’t have been added along with them but still, pretty cool to see that particular trio regardless along with my girl Sunset ❤️ about time the main show acknowledged her importance to Twilight -.-

-Moving onto the big finale itself, “The Last Problem”, we cut ahead to I presume to be a couple decades or so since the last episode... where Twilight and her friends are all grown up and leading their own lives as Twilight’s pupil (Luster Dawn, was it?) comes to prepare herself for her own first friendship lesson. Surprisingly, unlike past finales it’s not so much a really heavy or action-packed episode but more of a “relaxing breather” kinda filler... yet still pushes the feels the more we get to see the aged-up cast and realize how this truly is the end for our heroes :(

-We’re also given a nice flashback to Twilight’s coronation as Equestria’s new leader, though it didn’t go according to plan it still provided some heartwarming feels to teach that friendships will always remain solid even if some end up moving far away. Awww ;w;.

-As for the “Grown up” designs themselves... I’m kinda torn, tbh lol

On one hand, I do like Rainbow’s, Fluttershy’s, and AJ’s older looks just fine. AJ’s especially gives me the feels looking at it ‘cause of the shawl... really hits in that poor Granny Smith is no longer around by this time :( at least she’ll always keep her memory strong in her heart ❤️

As for Twilight, Rarity, Spike and Pinkie... ehhhh ^^;. Rarity’s sparkly shawl is rather pretty though that big grey steak in her hair kinda clashes too much with the regular purple imo, Pinkie’s beehive look could’ve been fine if they just took out all that random junk in her hair, and while part of me kinda likes the “ethereal princess-y” vibes of Twilight (despite the rather dark implications that she’s gonna outlive her friends now ;-;)... the fact that she still sounds like her old dorky self when speaking kinda kills the effect for me... plus idk if only a couple decades in the future would be enough to make her this tall as an alicorn, I mean even Luna (who’s older than her) is alot shorter so it’s just a little off-putting to me to see her so “Celestia”-sized ^^;. And as for Spike... yeah, I don’t even know what’s going on there, so... let’s just move on, please lol.

So then we get to look over how everyone else in Ponyville’s doing, with so many new species living there now, some old kiddos grew up like the CMC and the Cake twins, Starlight and her friends (plus the Student 6) continuing to run the friendship school together, and apparently some canon couples started to thrive during this time too including Lyra and Bon Bon, Big Mac and Sugar Belle, and... Pinkie and Cheese? o.o 

...Um, wow lol Wasn’t really expecting that considering that most of Cheese and Pinkie’s previous screentime together (which was only in like, two episodes?) wasn’t really that romantic from what I can recall, but guess the writers decided to just throw it in anyway ‘cause it’s a popular ship? lol I mean, not like it’s a bad one or anything but it still feels a bit randomly-placed in a narrative sense imo ^^;

Speaking of their daughter (Lil Cheese, I think?), while I do think she’s cute, part of me is kinda disappointed that they didn’t really get more creative with her design like they’ve done for Flurry Heart and the Cake twins :c. Color-wise she looks okay but... why just make her a recolor of her mom’s filly design? .-. Even putting her hair in some pigtails or something would’ve worked better imo.

-Some more design nitpicks I had were certain weirdly placed hairstyles like Pumpkin Cake’s and Diamond Tiara’s, as well as why Gummy the alligator just looks like he resized into a giant than legitimately grew into an adult lol. Also this might also be nitpicky but why exactly is everyone (minus Twilight) so old-looking with grayed hair and/or eye bags (ex. Rarity and Sugar Belle), when a couple of them have school-aged children at this point? .-. Hell, even most of the Mane 6′s parents didn’t look this old (including Twilight’s, and they’ve got a granddaughter lol), so I’m kinda confused by this type of design choice tbh.

-I don’t really remember if they explicitly stated what happened to the old princesses during this time since they didn’t show up again, nor what the final fates of Shining Armor and Cadence were (save for a brief shot of Flurry Heart having her own stain-glass window in the throne room). Idk, just would’ve been nice to have gotten more explicit about that ‘cause I don’t wanna think of these poor royals being gone now with just Twilight being the leader now ;-; 

-I guess there was also a couple “implied” ships thrown in too like Fluttershy and Discord (though that one might be more “loose” to interpret, depending on how much you like the ship) and apparently AJ and Rainbow Dash seem to be having something “deeper” going on considering they specifically walked in together when all the other Mane 6 walked in individually into the throne room. Hmmm...?

-And lastly after a bit more filler and than a montage song of the Mane 6 harmonizing together one last time, we get to close off the entire episode, season, and series with one final shot of the heroes standing on a sunset-y hillside together, saying goodbye to Twilight’s student who goes off on her own friendship adventures... and then the screen fades to a book closing as a call back to the very first episode of the series over 9 years ago... where the exact same book opened up to start off our beloved show to begin with T-T

....aaaand yeah my feels exploded over again, sorry T-T. Despite the lil nitpicks I had here and there (and how I wish certain plot holes could’ve been handled better in hindsight), this was still a really sweet and thoughtful way to end MLP: FiM with one last batch of fluff like this... the end of a good 9-year run of the show which’ll surely leave a special place in every fan’s hearts, including mine ❤️

Though again, like I mentioned before I still won’t be considering any of this actually “canon” in the main universe I’m setting up, which is all basically an AU at this point since I haven’t really been keeping up with the show as frequently to care much for sticking with the main canon :p. For my fellow content creators, please don’t be afraid to keep working on your own next gens and such btw, even if some of it might be contradicted in this particular finale I’d say anyone is free to make their own interpretations however they want, canon or no canon~ ;p

  Hope y’all understand that well and I hope you guys have a great rest of your day! 😃 

[magic-owl]

i wish these had numbers to not take up room but alas: what is your absolute favorite ship? what’s a ship you like that most people don’t? what is the most underrated ship, in your opinion? (choose any of your fave pairings for the following bc I'm curious about all your faves) rate [pairing] from 1-10 and explain why. what’s your favorite headcanon of [pairing]? what’s your favorite canon moment of [pairing]? favorite AU ideas for [pairing]? what song(s) remind you of [pairing]?

Thank you my dear! You are my Star Wars Friend so I’ll keep it SW focused (if you wanted to ask this to solely find out what else I liked BESIDES SW sorry lol just let me know and I can redo it). This got long because turns out I have a lot to say about my ships so answers under the cut!!! xD

Absolute favorite ship: This one’s kinda hard but I’m gonna have to go with Obi Wan/Anakin! I also like them a lot as a trio with Padmé, but overall I gotta say these two are just my faves? Why? Because they are such a M E S S and gosh I just love them so much. Ppl say they don’t like each other very much but come on, have you watched the TCW, have you watched RotS, they’re the greatest team there ever was, they’re constantly fretting and worrying about each other, they’re always teasing (the constant banter omg boys pls) at each other and hyping the other up and believing in each other and Ahsoka literally calls them her adoptive guardians in the Ahsoka novel, that’s how much of a family they were and ugh they’re just so married. And they’re such a TRAGEDY and it breaks my heart and it’s delicious to watch because in the final fight it’s just heartbreaking betrayal because through it all they love each other so much and that’s WHY they’re so furious with each other because to them it feels like the ultimate betrayal. Even after (when after everything, Obi Wan still loved Anakin too much to kill him himself) they’re constantly on the other’s mind, and ugh the pain hurts but in such a good way, and how in the end Anakin did the right thing and Obi Wan was RIGHT THERE to help guide him back to the light in spirit and now they can rest happily together for eternity (with some spare stressing about, ya know, Kylo Ren and the impending return of Sidious, but never mind all that). and on top of that, it’s my fave because I also absolutely love their relationship platonically as well, as much as I LIKE to see them together, it’s not necessary for me because they have such an enjoyable dynamic. *coughs* Sorry, so yea, they’re my disaster faves! 😅

A ship I like that most people don’t: See above lol. I get aspects of the Obikin ship can be problematic in the whole power dynamic and age difference thing, but I’ve only ever shipped it after Anakin was knighted as an adult when there’s literally not a problem with it (it was weird for me because I watched the prequels totally out of order. I actually saw the TCW cartoon FIRST and then I saw RotS and then I didn’t watch the first two for a while after that because I was a fool and listened to prequel bashers who said the first two weren’t good, so when I started shipping them as adults that was all I saw them as). To be honest, for the most part the PT fandom is done with the drama since ya know, like a good half of the SW general fandom still hates us, so no one’s really vocal about not liking it and our shipping community is mostly left to ourselves, but every once in a while I’ll come across a joke post/fanart of the two and OP will be all snarky in the notes like “tag as a ship and I’ll come after you with my spiked bat” (someone’s exact words btw) and it’s like ok jeez, do not interact then, was minding my own business dude...

My most underrated ship: Hmmmm....... Gonna have to go between Luke/Ezra and Satine/Padmé. Skybridger I understand since they’ve literally never met in canon, but come ON, they’d get along like a house on fire and argh they should have met, it would be great. I honestly don’t get why Pads and Satine aren’t more of a thing (THEY DON’T EVEN HAVE AN OFFICIAL SHIPNAME ;_; ) cuz c’mon they’re the subtler explosive yin to Obi and Ani’s wildfire yang. They get along great and work together really well, and they both seem to have a type. I am doing them a little better in my new OT4 fic, and I hope ppl like it!!! Ya know what, I’m also gonna add Kaeden (cute girl from the Ahsoka novel!) and Ahsoka because even if a lot of ppl actually ship them, they hardly have any content and neED MORE DANGIT THEY WERE SO CUTE!!!!!!!

Gonna go with Obikin for all the following ones cuz I haven’t had the chance to gush about my boys in a while and you’ve opened Pandora’s box

Rate them from 1-10: 10, plus a hundred more points because I love them, then subtract that hundred again cuz Anakin is an gotdang idiot who ruined it and now they both make me cry. My scoring reasons are that they make me feel all the emotions and I love them Ever So Much and argh.

Fave headcanon: Oh boy, I’ve got a couple actually!

Whenever they’re talking/arguing over the phone, they’re always subconsciously mirroring each other’s actions even when they can’t see what the other is doing. It’s kinda creepy because you’ll hear yelling and it’ll look like one of them’s talking to an invisible person in front of them when it’s actually each other.

There has been multiple instances of them both getting injured in battle because they were distracted watching the other be a total badass (not that either will admit it)

Neither of them are morning people. AT ALL. Obi Wan actually has self-discipline and is able to get up with an alarm and crankily drag them both up, but both are almost impossible to deal with until they’ve had caffeine in them, and it’s been established that unless you want to risk murder, neither of them talks in the morning until caffeine has been provided.

There has been many, many cases of accidentally taking the other’s robe and not realizing it but thinking to themselves that said robe feels more comforting than usual today.

A mutually drunken arm wrestling match absolutely turned into a mutually drunken makeout once. Neither can remember it, and they wonder why some of the clones have been acting funny all week.

Half of the Temple thinks they’re already dating.

Ok I’ll stop it here

Fave Canon Moment: Ughhh, this is HARD. I really like the “any closer and you’d be kissing it” line in TCW, basically any moment in TCW when one of them refers to Ahsoka as “OUR padawan”, the extra long stares and unnecessary touches they give each other in TCW, the elevator scene in RotS movie (THE NOVEL MAKES IT A MILLION TIMES BETTER), also in RotS the way Anakin is half-ready to straight up fight Palpatine when he suggests leaving Obi Wan behind to die, the RotS “No loose wire jokes” bit, the RotS “Roger. Roger.” bit (OKAY JUST THE WHOLE FIRST HALF OF THIS RIDICULOUS MOVIE), the way Vader built his big stupid castle where they had their breakup, the way he’s constantly mentioning Obi Wan when the convo wasn’t even about him, seeing them together again at the end of RotJ (whoops you asked for one, you get MANY SCENES)

Fave AU ideas: Again, there’s a couple!

Superpower AU: Can’t decide whether I’d put this in canon or modern. Most powers in this AU are stolen from inspired by X-Men, DC, and other popular media, so I’m torn between Anakin having Jean Grey/Dark Phoenix style powers while Obi Wan had a variation on Rogue’s with additional energy manipulation. OR it would be a thing where Anakin could commune with the dead a la Klaus from Umbrella Academy while Obes had sort of Avatar-style wind/flight powers. (Both are relevant for different plots).

Sith AU: I know these are far from unpopular in the SW fandom, but the way I’d do it would be to try and write two stories at once, update one every other week so one update a week total. The stories would what would happen if either of them became the Sith Apprentice after the events of Episode 1, and how their dynamic would be during Ep 2 and The Clone Wars with one of them on the other side. It’s funny because the way I’ve plotted it, the Sith!Ani fic would have very big Good Omens vibes, while the Sith!Obi one would have very strong Under the Red Hood vibes, so two VERY different dynamics going on xD

WWII Spies: This is one I 100% plan to write someday, even tho it is a very long time from now. It’s basically following Anakin as an American naval pilot who got injured in a crash and discharged. He still wants to serve and eventually his talent gets him into the intelligence end of the war and sent to Europe where he meets Ben, who’s been working with British intelligence since it broke out, and sparks fly. I’m kind of cheating here cuz as of now this is an Obianidala story, not just Obikin, but it’s one I’m very excited for

Phantom of the Opera AU: This idea I had when I realized that Anakin as Vader is kinda a Lot like the Phantom, but he’s also a Lot like Christine too. So it turned into Anakin as a talented ballet dancer getting preyed on by Palpatine!Phantom (there is NO romance there, Palpy is a total creep and will be treated as such) with Obi Wan as a combination of Raoul and Madame Gery and I have a bunch of ideas and idk if it’s gonna be an actual thing, but I want it to.

Shapeshifter AU: Canon, not very complicated but they can all shift into animals. Obi Wan is a kind of cougar panther cat with a fluffy ginger tail, and Anakin is a big grumpy black Krayt Dragon with a stump for a front leg.

Not A Jedi!AU: One in canon in which set like the Sith!AU, two different stories exploring how their dynamic would be if one of them wasn’t found by the Order. As of now, I’ve got Anakin as the warrior pirate prince of Tatooine, after having grown up and staged a slave rebellion, then promptly put his mother on the throne, and Obi Wan’s there to negotiate something during TCW and things happen. For the Obi Wan one, he’s a political journalist and war correspondent who keeps on running into Anakin’s assignments and popping up where he’s stationed and Anakin has to keep this idiot from getting himself killed/stop asking me annoying questions that criticize the Jedi and the government.

Dark!AU: A kind of morbid canon divergent fic where Padmé dies early and unexpectedly (Palps didn’t plan it). Anakin goes off the rails and Obi Wan agrees to go with him on a murder vengeance roadtrip to try and keep him from Falling or the Sith from getting to him. He kinda fails and they both Fall in a way and it ends with them hunting down Sidious’ players one by one. I’m not entirely sure I want to continue with this tho because it plays strongly on the Fridged Woman trope, which I can’t stand. I’d have to figure out how to give Padmé some sort of active role after her death...

Songs to describe them: There’s a couple (I could have very well gone cranky but I decided to do (mostly) serious))(also my music taste kinda stinks)

Icarus— Bastille

Anna Sun— WALK THE MOON

Animal I Have Become— Acoustic cover by Vitamin String Quartet (original by Three Days Grace) (seriously y’all listen it’s sooooo gooooood)

Warriors— Imagine Dragons

My Demons— STARSET

Ignorance— Paramore

Set Fire to the Rain— Adele

Stubborn Love— The Lumineers

How to Save A Life— The Fray (yes i am aware it is stereotypical angst song leave me Alone it FITS)

Viva la Vida— Coldplay (tbh this fits like the entire PT but I liked it)

Raised by Wolves— U2 (another more PT-centric, but this one works dangit)

Bonus Broadway Song! : Confrontation from Les Miserables (now that ya think of it, that would be a pretty good AU too.....)

Bonus Broadway Song! : The Tango Maureen from Rent (I always imagined this one as Obi Wan and Padmé about Anakin, but it would be about something other than cheating cuz canon has established Anakin views cheating as a worse crime than murder, so yea)

Bonus Broadway Song! : Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (aight this one’s mostly a joke but come ON don’t tell me that’s not completely them xD)