https://oreosmama.tumblr.com/post/ ... Kageyama walks into the room, holding a luggage in each hand. âHere,â he says, handing one to Hinata. âThis one remains at your place, while this one stays here.â The new idea was for you to be imprisoned in one of their houses, alternating every week. Hinata nodded as she received the bag, casting one final glimpse at your sobbing figure. “YN.â€.
Oikawa grumbled at the interruption as the door to his quarters snapped open. But he couldn't remain angry for long. You were passed out, your head on his lap, soundly asleep. You were clearly exhausted by the events of the day, and who better to look after you than the love of your life? The prince smirked, stroking his hands over your wild curls and reclining back against his headboard. â€Your Majesty-â€
His strange and passionate feelings for you did not go unnoticed. He wasn't ignorant to the way your pals fawned over him, or how they appeared to turn against you as the months passed. Part of him felt regret, knowing that this was a direct consequence his devoting all of his attention to you, but he made no attempt to correct it, made no move to prevent his fangirls from becoming dangerously restless as his feelings for them diminished more. He was present. He was there when his followers' unity erupted like a furious bull. He was there when you were being tormented severely in a back alley behind the school, your skin black with bruises and your hair newly chopped. He was there when you were tripped in the corridors, when your books were taken and broken, and when your bullies left you weeping on the floor. He was there when they followed you home in groups, berating you from afar and almost made you weep in the middle of the street with their comments alone. He was there through it all, relishing every second your strength dwindled and your veneer broke.
He strained against you, his fingers twitching as he fought the want to sink his claws into your hips and rip until you stopped talking. Memories were nasty, and memories were never safe, no matter what shape they took. Would you recall what you said him if he smothered you, smothering you with something thick and suffocating over your face until you were unconscious? Could he make you stop dreaming? There was a tea that may work, as well as a medicine or anything he could put in your beverages. Maybe if he struck you hard enoughâYou drew him out of his thoughts with a subdued and cheery laugh, a dismissing of your own thoughts. âIt's ridiculous,â says one. You began for yourself rather than for him. âIf someone truly wanted to damage me, you would probably wail until it had to give me back.â You were the one to kiss him this time, holding his face and only pulling away after you ran out of energy to do anything except look and smile. âMy hero in tear-stained armor,â says the narrator.
