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dothewrite · 7 years

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(cont) isn't. and it kinda just frustrates me to see the media portray it in that way because i would hate to know someone or even BE someone with that disorder and see such a portrayal of who i am as a person. SO due to this frustration i was wondering if you could od a scenario with tsukishima and bokuto where their fem s/o has DID and just how the boys would help them or something (you can let your mind wander) or maybe their s/o sees the trailer and gets really upset about it

Hey there! I’m sorry it’s been such a long time, but I’m really thankful for your patience. Here’s your request, and I hope you like it. For all those who didn’t see the first part of the ask, this request is about DID, and the movie trailer for ‘Split’ with James McAvoy.

Just as a quick disclaimer- I have no experience with DID. I have never had it, never interacted with someone with it, so I do not claim to represent this illness accurately. However, this was my major (and hopefully my future career), and I have dug up old notes and several textbooks to get my facts as straight as possible. Because this is fic, there will be several things that I do not explain directly. If there are any questions or concerns about DID (in this scenario or otherwise), I will do my best to answer questions through asks.

“You know,” Tsukishima hears you snarl before the mug smashes against the wallin fifteen different pieces, “I wish I could twist my body like some fuckingwendigo when Hana takes over. Be the monster they think we really are.”

He pads out of the kitchen,turning off the stove before he does, and hands you an oven mitten. You slip iton, reluctantly, and make your way towards the mess that you’ve left next tothe hanging bookshelf. When you glance up angrily at your supposed boyfriend’sface, there isn’t much emotion except for focus. It’s one thing you’ve alwayshated about him, and if you cared less than you did about your host, you don’tthink you’d have given him the time of day.

“Be careful,” he tells yousternly, “I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

You stick your middle finger upat him from underneath the glove. A small smile starts to crack his thinlypressed lips. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you pick it up then? Is it funwatching me on my knees, you sick fuck?”

As if on cue, he pulls out hisalready gloved hand from behind his back and waves it at you, deadpan. “I’m notinto sharp object play.” Very slowly, he gets to his knees beside you andbegins to pick out the smaller shards from the plush carpeting. “But,” he adds,“you know Kaede won’t like it when she finds out that you’ve broken somethingagainst the wall. That was her favourite mug.”

“Yeah? She’ll only know if yourat me out to her,” you spit. But your hand is already moving, reluctantly,untangling large shards of porcelain from dark green fibres.

Tsukishima’s expression hasn’tchanged in the slightest. Sometimes you really, really hate how nothing evergets to him like you want it to. Like he’d expected all of this to begin with,and plotted a course of potential comebacks to put you in your place.

It’s never very fun anymore whenit’s your turn.

“Tell me at least you agree withme, Tsukishima.” He hums to let you know he’s listening. “I’m angry for a goodreason, dammit.”

“It’s a good reason,” he agrees.He holds out the plastic bag for you to drop the last big piece in. “It makesfor a good movie, but it’s not good for representation.”

“I’m not a fucking murderouspsychopath.”

“You’re not,” he agrees again.“You’re a bit murderous, but not a psychopath.”

“I’m only murderous when peoplepiss me off. If they want me to be a nicer person, then they should stoppissing me off. Sound logic.”

To this, he doesn’t reply. Heonly laughs, a bit brightly with his twisted sense of humour, and motions foryou to get up with him. “Grab the vacuum, will you?”

You do. You don’t mind vacuumingso much; it makes such a wonderfully raucous noise that you can easily imagineit’s the sound of a building crashing down a block over. Tsukishima gives you alook as you plug it into the socket, and claps on his pair of noise cancellingheadphones. You switch the machine on with pleasure.

It’s a good catharsis, as analternative to breaking more things. You’d shattered the television once out ofrage, and the pleasure that had coursed through you had been unreal- so muchthat it had become an addiction, a contagion that kept you up for longer andlonger as the fury liquidized anything else inside you and pooled into a wellof happy anger. Kaede, your host, had given Tsukishima a stern talking to afterthat, and you’d been under wraps ever since. No more breaking household itemswithout cleaning it up. Needless to say, you stopped breaking so many things.

With a click, quiet swam backinto the lilac living room, and you drag the vacuum behind you back to thestorage cupboard.

Tsukishima is there waiting foryou. He holds out a mug, identical to the one that you had broken, and at yoursurprised gape, a gentler crease to his eyes begins to crinkle and he takes astep forwards, pressing the cup into your open hand.

You wrap your fingers around it,feeling the same grooves again.

“You’re not going to rat me out.”

“Nope.”

“How many spares do you have inthere?” You demand accusingly, but Tsukishima’s smile doesn’t falter.

“Enough,” he answers. Slowly, andobviously, his palms curls around the small of your back and tugs you closer,keeping you at a distance comfortable still. You weren’t as close to him asyour other alters were, and he knew your boundaries.

“You have the most beautifulanger out of them all, did you know that?”

“I-” your tongue sticks to thesides of your mouth, and words become hard to find. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” he breathes lowly, andsomething behind his eyes melt and swirl in messages that you’re not used toreading. It’s the first time those messages are addressed to you. “But don’ttell the others.” He smirks at you slyly. “Don’t rat me out.”

“I won’t,” you promise. And then,“who the hell do you take me for, anyway? Some fucking tattle tale?”

Laughing, Tsukishima motions foryou to get on with the storage closet, popping back into the living room to putthe mug where it had originally been.

An alien warmth flushes throughyou; your cheeks, your fingers, your toes, and your chest feels irritatinglytight against your ribs. You take several deep breaths, lean the vacuumcarefully against the side of the closet, and shut it behind you. You stand alittle straighter, edges of your lips a little softer, and the room seems atleast four times brighter than it had been before.

“Kei?” You call. He’s rarelyanywhere out of sight, unless it’s just been Iishi, who needs his space to beangry. “Are you here?”

Tsukishima strolls back intoview, hanging out of the doorway into the kitchen. He’s looking softer thanusual, and somehow your cheeks mirror his mood, and you walk up to him with awarm gaze.

“I’m here, Kaede,” he murmurs.“I’ve bought groceries. Want to start dinner?”

On the small stretch of wall thatmarks the distance between the bedrooms and the living room, four calendarscover it. One is larger than the rest, with lots of spare space and small multicolouredscribbles in each square. Thursday has marked two movies and one shoppingexcursion and on Friday, a double anniversary date with Kuroo and his fiancée.

Two smaller calendars frame thelargest one in the centre. One the left, Bokutohas his two and a half practices jotted down for Monday, and to the right, youhave one hair appointment and one doggy day care pickup for Tuesday. They’reboth in different colours, and different handwriting scrawled all over them.

The smallest and last one sitsfurthest down the corridor. It’s hung neatly right beside the master bedroom’sdoorframe, and each month, the pages are filled in assorted colours. Therearen’t many jottings on it, only small multicoloured circles in a countdown.Circles mark special days, and straight crosses count the days passed. Bothtypes of writing are dotted along the frames. There’s a small smiley face and acat face that decorates the header of this month. It’s October, going ontoNovember. The days are getting shorter, and the air is getting chillier.

There’s a big circle aroundtoday’s date. It’s in lime green, autumn’s favourite colour.

“Hey.” You feel Bokuto’s firmarms wrap themselves like garden vines around your hunched shoulders. “You’rethinking that again, aren’t you?”

“When don’t I?” You joke weakly,but it’s true. He’s right. You twist your head around, and straighten your backthe way you know he prefers you to sit. It makes you look prouder, happier, andBokuto’s favourite time of day is when you’re both.

“I got this, you know? I’m goodat taking care of people!” Without his hands at his disposal, he thumps hischest against your back to make the manly ‘umph’ sound. It makes you smile. Fornow, everything still makes you smile quite easily. “I know,” you reassure him.“I’m just anxious, like always.”

“It’s been four years,” Bokutomumbles into the crook of your neck. You lean backwards into his firm body andlet yourself reassemble in his shape. “I’ve got the hang of this. You don’thave to feel bad anymore.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stopfeeling bad,” you shrug, and he shifts along with the motion. “But it’s a lotmore comforting now that we’ve planned well for it.”

“Mhmm.” The vibrations sendshivers up your spine. Bokuto runs wiry fingers over your gooseflesh. “I’m goodat keeping you cheerful.”

He’s good at keeping everyonecheerful, always. Even when he’s down, Bokuto never misses the chance to pickhimself up just in time to bring someone back up to spirits, and his sadhooting is one of the most heartbreakingly adorable sounds you’ve ever heard.You’ve got it recorded on your phone.

“Let’s run over the game planagain,” you suggest with a small smile. “It’ll make me less nervous.”

“Okay.” He plops down next to youwith his legs crossed. “So, lots of blankets. Lots of hot drinks. Don’t wakeyou up too early, and don’t get mad when you’re crying about dumb things.” Hefrowns at that point. “I think it’s horrible that anyone could get mad at youcrying. And nothing you cry about is ever dumb.”

“Last year I sobbed for two daysstraight because I lost a penguin keychain.”

“Imagine what the penguinkeychain must feel!” Bokuto looks scandalized. “That’s not dumb!”

You love him so. It’s at the tip of your tongue, pushing at your lips to escape in ahushed whisper, but it’s not something Aki would say. Haru and Natsu, mostdefinitely. Aki- autumn- you- settle for pressing against him with your side.“I hope we find the penguin again someday,” you muse. “What an adventure.”

Bokuto looks thrilled at theprospect of sharing adventures with a small plastic charm, but he clears histhroat and keeps his fingers held out. “Let Kuroo and Akaashi know beforehand.I’ll keep noises to a minimum, and let our landlord know that quiet hours areearly for the first month. Your workplace should’ve got the memo pretty earlyon. They’re nice.”

“They are,” you nod dazedly. It’sa cocoon of warmth around Bokuto at all times, and with the small snuggiepooled at your feet, it’s the right gradient of temperature that lulls you tointo a dream. “If worst comes to worst, my therapist has open hours through theday for any emergencies.”

“Gotcha. I hope there aren’t anyemergencies.”

“They’re hard on you, I’m sorry,Kou.”

“Don’t mind me! I was mostlyworried for you-” as if proving his point, he runs his fingers along the trailof your scalp, back and forth. “I didn’t know that our neighbours wouldcelebrate a birthday with fireworks.”

He pauses then, and leans down tohover closely by your face. You can feel the warmth radiating of his sun-kissedbronze. “I think you’ve already come so far. You used to hate having men aroundyou. That broke my heart.”

You’re not sure if you’ll everstop feeling guilty about that, and Bokuto’s face still shows old hurt that hasscarred his heart and left him stronger. You know the guilt will amplify soon.Soon, you will fear Bokuto, yet love him intensely, hate yourself and want tocarve out a small cave to live by your lonesome.

You will hate the days, miss thenights, love your father, and despise the sound of deep laughter.

It’s four thirty in theafternoon, and the sky is white from snow. The whirring of relentless windsoutside and the memory of deep, angry grunting stirs sleeping fears from insideyou.

Bokuto waits, silently, and holdsyou close to him.

He listens as your breathingspeeds up, coming in short bursts, and your grip on your own legs tense. Theshoulder you have resting against him crushes against him in a desperate bidfor his pain, and his comfort combined. He waits for you to settle down, andget your bearings.

“Here,” he shuffles further awayand swirls a massive blanket around your frame before you can make a sound. Thefear in your eyes subside in small bursts, and holding back his urge to touchyour cheek, Bokuto lifts up a mug of hot cocoa in front of your face. You takeit in both hands, without saying a word, and sip at it.

“Fuyu.” Your eyes flicker up atthe sound of your name. Bokuto is smiling at you with aching affection, and asmall heat rises to your cheeks. You don’t mind so much when it’s his lips yournames are falling from. “Hello, again.”

#bokuto koutarou #tsukishima kei #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #sfw #dissociative identity disorder #female original character #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #i writes the haikyuu

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