#I know this is just a lil doodle but I hope it can somehow still brighten someone's day out there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Conflicted Connections

Requested By @rc11: “Reader is drunk and calls Rosé to pick her up since she’s worried. And on the way home, the reader confesses but since she knows Rosé is out of her league she gets all sad. All fluff throughout the way, and the next day she avoids Rosé since she recalls herself confessing and is to embarrassed to face her. Gets a lil bit angst but then they somehow make up at the end.”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,505

Warnings / Misc. – Mentions Of Alcohol & Partying, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Thank you for the request! I had fun writing this one, and I really hope you enjoy it. I stuck with the gist, but I added quite a bit :) AND WHO ELSE IS HYPED FOR THE SHOW??? 🥳 I can’t wait to see our girls own that stage 😌

PS ~~ The song used is called "Baby, I Love You" by Tiffany Alvord, and it was specially requested.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

With yet another steaming cup of tea in hand, Rosé makes her way back to her room, settling onto the soft cushions of the bed. Her notebook lays open in front of her, lyrics and annotations beautifully etched into the paper.

She pulls her guitar back into her lap now, allowing her fingers to glide along the strings as she strums out whatever comes to mind. Nothing makes her feel as relaxed as this; she's free to sing whatever she feels -- to play whatever feels right. If only for a little while, she can connect back to her roots and remember how she felt as a little girl; when her heart and mind were unburdened by fear of judgement.

Life isn't always easy, but she takes comfort in the fact that her love of music will always remain childlike, in the sense that there's always something new to discover or tell the world. It goes without saying that being a songwriter is much easier when you're inspired, and Rosé can attest to that. A certain someone has become her muse over the course of the past few months, and her mind is constantly filled with ideas for new material.

As another line pops into her head, she takes the page between her fingers to flip to a clean sheet. A few seconds later, thinking she found one, she begins writing. Soon, though, she discovers that this wasn't an empty page: in the upper right hand corner, a small heart is drawn, encompassing the words "Hi Rosie" and a small smiley face. Your initials are printed next to the doodle, and the sight brings a soft smile to her face. You must've sneakily drawn that when she wasn't looking one day.

Her fingers run along the markings, tracing over the lines as your face flashes in her mind for the millionth time today. The universe must've been listening, because no more than 5 minutes later, her phone starts ringing. She reaches backwards towards the bedside table, and her fingers soon make contact with the device.

"Hey, I was just thinking about you--" She starts, before being interrupted.

"BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE--" Your voice booms through the phone as you sing loudly, nearly making Rosé go deaf in the process. She blinks a few times to refocus her thoughts before chuckling lightly.

"Y/N?"

"Rosie I'm at this really fun party, you should come hang out!" Your words come out slightly slurred, but excited nonetheless. It's a bit hard for her to hear you now over the music blasting in the background.

"Ah, I don't know…" She trails off, voice unsure. She'd much rather spend the evening writing about you than at some random party.

"Pleaaseee?" You drag out, making sure to whine for even more emphasis. "I miss you."

Rosé's heart skips a beat at that last part, now thudding obnoxiously loud in her chest. She misses you too, probably more than a 'friend' should, but she can't help it -- you're simply too amazing.

She takes a breath, knowing that she'll likely regret her next decision -- after all, hiding her feelings becomes harder every time she's around you. Regardless, she can't find it in herself to say no to you. "Alright, fine. Where are you again?"

You let out a loud cheer upon hearing her cave in, and she just knows you look like a dork, likely having that stupid little smirk on your lips that she loves so much.

After getting the address from you, she goes into her closet to find a good outfit. For anyone else, she might've just shown up in whatever was comfortable; but knowing that you're there is enough motivation for her to put a bit more effort into it.

Her signature style shines through: she dons a black crop top and jeans, paired with a long, hickory colored trench coat. She finishes the look off with her white sneakers, giving the outfit that final umph that it needed.

With one last look in the mirror, she adjusts her clothes and hair again before heading out.

-----

The moment that Rosé steps foot inside the house, her eyes widen. She's been to plenty of parties before, but never one as chaotic as this. A large crowd is gathered in the living room, making the area that was likely once spacious now appear cramped and tiny. Some people move with the rhythm, while others dance wildly to the beat of their own drum. The music was audible from outside, but inside is a whole nother story: it's nearly deafening now.

In front of her, just past the living room, two guys are fist fighting. To her left, a long hallway is filled with couples making out, likely on their way to the bedrooms. She grimaces before pushing her way past everyone and walking towards the kitchen.

The bright strobe lights from the living room still manage to reach the area, but things are definitely a little calmer here. That's not to say that it's quiet, though: people are gathered around the counters, downing shots and cheering each other on at the same time. Some stumble around, nearly falling over as their friends laugh hysterically and help keep them vertical.

In the adjacent room, two teams of partygoers are busy playing beer pong. It seems to be boys vs girls, and Rose smirks when she discovers the latter are in the lead.

She scans the rooms one more time, but you're still nowhere to be found. A pang of worry settles in her chest, but it only makes her more determined to find you.

And, 10 minutes later, she does. You're outside in the backyard, sitting near the fire pit with a bottle of wine in your hand. The flames are dying down now, long ago forgotten about -- the stars shining in the midnight sky had captivated you, stealing your attention away from keeping the fire fed.

Before she begins her journey over to you, she takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful you look. The remaining embers flicker lazily, creating a deep haze that casts onto your body. The shadows contrast with the light, making your features pop in all the right ways. The sound of someone shouting again brings her out of her daze, and Rose makes her way to you.

At first, you don't notice her. Your eyes are wide, filled with wonder as you gaze up at the sky in awe. Space has always baffled you, and Rose thinks you look adorable when you get like this.

"Y/N," she says gently, standing beside your chair. After pulling your eyes away from the sky, you meet her gaze. A light blush rises to your cheeks at the way she's looking at you.

"Hi Rosie," you slur. The words come out cutely, but she can tell that you're much drunker than you had been when you called earlier.

"How much have you had?"

You scrunch your face up in thought as the last two functioning brain cells in your head go to work. She can practically see the wheels turning, and she can't help but laugh at the look of effort on your face.

"...a lot." You ultimately conclude, taking far too long to come up with such a simple answer. "Alex gave me a couple of his special mixes earlier, I had some shots, and now--" you declare, holding the wine bottle up triumphantly, "--this!"

As soon as she heard his name leave your lips, she frowned. Alex is one of your coworkers and friends, and he's totally in love with you. You're oblivious to it, but Rose isn't and she can't stand him. On top of the fact that he's a guy, he has the audacity to like you? Well, she can't exactly blame him for those things, but that doesn't mean that she has to like him. She's civil around him for your sake, but that's all.

"Do you want some?" You ask, always willing to offer her whatever you have. Sharing is caring, and you definitely care about a certain Australian beauty.

She looks down at you before shaking her head. "No, I'm good." You swish the liquid around, peering down into the bottle as it glides from side to side. "Me too," you say, setting it down beside your chair. "Let's go dance!" You suggest excitedly, using your strength to hoist your body out of the seat. Sorely miscalculating your moves, your foot doesn't quite connect with the ground how you intended; you stumble, falling right into Rosie's waiting arms.

She was watching you carefully, having a feeling that this would happen.

"Nope, I'm taking you home. No dancing for you." You whine and pout, but Rose doesn't budge. Eventually you give up, and allow her to hold you close as she helps you walk out of the house. You rest your head on her shoulder, and she has to fight the butterflies that take flight.

As the two of you near the door, Rose spots Alex in the living room. She shoots him a cocky grin, as if to say 'checkmate' before she leads you out the door.

-----

The ride home was getting off to a rather interesting start. It took Rosie a while to wrangle you into the car and buckle you in, but she eventually managed to do it. Now, though, a new problem is arising: you're being flirty, and she doesn't know what to do with herself.

"You're so pretty," you compliment, leaning over the center console to whisper the phrase in her ear. She gulps and attempts to calm her heart down, but she's having trouble. "Shush," she commands, blushing as she lets out a little giggle. She tries to remind herself that you're just drunk -- that there's no real meaning behind your words -- but it feels good to pretend.

After a moment, you return to your seat, and she lets out a sigh of relief.

Barely 2 minutes later, you place a hand on her knee, saying gently, "You always take such good care of me. Thank you, Rose." She sneaks a glance at you, and her heart nearly melts at the smile you're sending her way. Your eyes are shining with sincerity, and she'd surely get lost in them if she weren't busy driving.

The rest of the ride is filled with more flirting and compliments from you, all of which send her into a gay panic, but she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

----

Now, laying in your bed as Rosé rounds up some pajamas for you, the effects of the alcohol really begin setting in. You're still in the playful, teasing phase, but you know you'll have a major hangover tomorrow. Whatever Alex put in those drinks is catching up with you and running its course throughout your body.

"Rosie, do you like anyone?" You call out, toying with your fingers like a toddler. She emerges from the bathroom, washcloth in hand, just as you ask the very words she's been fearing.

She goes to respond, but you interrupt her with a drunken giggle. "Because I do. Her name rhymes with nosey." You chuckle at yourself, but she's too busy trying not to freak out to return the gesture. When you don't question her further, she relaxes her shoulders. How many more times could she get away with avoiding her feelings?

She pushes the scary thought away, instead opting to bring over your clothes and give you a minute to change. Thankfully you're coherent enough to do that on your own -- the thought of you flirting with her while half naked and self-assured sends her wild, and she knows she'd slip up and confess.

Once you're dressed, she comes back over to the bed and sits down in front of you. She brings the rag up to your face and slides it across your cheeks and neck, knowing just what you need. This isn't the first time she's done this for you, and she can't deny the rush she feels when you look up at her with those big eyes, filled with gratitude.

You sigh at the coolness, relishing in the way that it soothes your hot skin. A soft thank you slips past your lips as your eyelids flutter shut, and Rosé almost lets herself imagine that you're hers. That she just brought her girlfriend back home and now she's taking care of her. But before she can get too lost in that fantasy, she pulls away, slipping the rag into your hand so that you can use it on yourself now.

"Well, I think my work here is done." She declares, patting your leg lovingly. She moves to stand, and the action prompts you to speak up.

"Wait," you start, grabbing her wrist before she can get away. You meant to tug gently, but you must've misjudged your strength; in an instant, she's close to you again, just a breath away. Her face is right in front of yours, and you can feel her warm breath against your lips.

Her eyes are wide now, and a subtle tremble runs through her. She's never been this close to you, and although she's terrified, she doesn't want to move away. She wants to give in -- to lean forward the tiniest bit and capture your lips -- but she can't. Her breathing becomes labored as she notices your gaze move from her eyes to her lips. Do you like her back? Surely not, you're just drunk...right?

Her pink lips look so kissable right now, the gloss on them shining in the low lamplight. She's close enough that you can smell her fruity shampoo and feel every jagged breath she draws in.

"Y/N--"

That's all it takes to set you into motion. You bring a hand up to her cheek, cupping it sweetly as you press your lips to hers. She sighs at the contact, melting into your embrace, and allows herself to let her walls down. Her lips move against yours slowly, unsure -- this is new for both of you, and you're testing the waters. One of her hands comes up to rest against the back of your neck, and she pulls you impossibly closer.

After she subconsciously bites your lip - the action drawing a groan from you - she snaps back to reality and pulls away. Her lips are red and swollen, and you have to stop yourself from leaning back in. She looks like she wants to do the same, but she centers herself before she can.

"I, uh, I'm gonna go. Goodnight, Y/N." She says breathlessly, swallowing as she runs a hand through her hair. She doesn't give herself anymore time to change her mind, and soon she's rushing out, failing to even give you so much as a second glance.

Shocked, you sit back and let your mind try and piece together what the hell just happened. The kiss worked well in sobering you up, at least for the time being, but you wish it hadn't. Now, you're forced to sit alone with your feelings again, lips still tingling with the memory of hers against them.

----

The Next Morning

*ring ring*

The blare of your ringtone sounds especially loud now, making you wince in pain. Your head is pounding, and that definitely isn't helping. Quickly, you roll over and pick it up, keeping your eyes closed as you press the button and hold it to your ear. "Hello?" You ask groggily, voice still laced with sleep.

"Hey, Y/N. The girls and I are going out later; do you wanna come with?" Jennie's sweet voice asks. You rub your forehead, now opening your eyes and staring at the ceiling as you ponder your options. With a glance at the clock, you see that you've already slept a good portion of the day away.

"I'd love to, but I'm pretty hungover right now Jen." You chuckle despite yourself, grinning when she laughs back.

"Rosie told us you might be dealing with that." Jennie laughs again, but you go quiet. Did she tell them everything that happened, or did she try and forget about it? After all, she basically ran away -- surely she regrets it. You scold yourself for even thinking that someone as out of your league as Rosé could like you back.

"Jisoo whipped up her special 'hangover-reverser' drink for you, as she calls it." She adds, hoping that'll win you over. Lost in your thoughts, you forget to answer her.

Jennie takes your silence the wrong way, saying, "You don't have to come, but we'd love to hang out." She sounds sad at the thought of you staying home, and a feeling of guilt creeps into your mind. Work has kept you from hanging out with all of them recently, and they miss you. You miss them too, and quickly decide that a hangover (and the awkward situation you'll be subjected to when face to face with Rosé) aren't enough of a deal breaker to decline their offer.

"I'll be over in a few. Tell Jisoo to make a couple more for the road… I'll need all the help I can get."

Jennie laughs again, and you pep up at the sweet sound. She celebrates, and you can hear the girls clapping in the background, shouting praise at her for convincing you to come. The two of you say your goodbyes, and you begin getting ready.

-----

"Jisoo, you're a lifesaver." You confess, flopping back onto the couch. The unnie responds with a smug, "I know," from her place in front of the mirror.

You lick the remaining liquid from your lips, and Rose shifts in her seat across the room. She can't get the feeling of your kiss out of her mind, and seeing you do that only makes things worse.

"Here's the second one," Lisa says, smirking as she pats your shoulder and hands you the cup. You smile back at her and smack her butt as a wordless thank you.

"Alright, so where exactly are we going, girls?" You ask as you tuck your feet underneath your body.

"I was thinking we could shop around Hongdae. They changed some stuff since we were there last, and it looks awesome." Jennie informs.

"Sounds good to me." Jisoo replies from the adjacent room, applying the finishing touches to her makeup.

Lisa agrees as well, and so does Rosie. At the sound of her soft voice, you make eye contact with her for the first time today. Ever since you arrived earlier, you've avoided her. She's done much the same, refraining from saying much to you at all. The girls haven't seemed to pick up on the tension yet, but they're observant; surely it won't take them long.

As you replay the fateful events in your mind again, you allow your head to lull back and rest against the cushion of the couch. Last night, Rosé’s eyes were speaking all of the words she could never tell you out loud, sparkling with repressed desire. It wasn't hard to tell that she was nervous, but she kissed you like she had been waiting to for an eternity. So, clearly, your confusion at the whole situation is understandable. Why did she run away?

"Ready?" Jisoo asks, kicking your foot to get your attention.

"As I'll ever be." You state as you stick a hand out to her. She understands immediately, swiftly helping you up. A little groan leaves you, your head spinning from standing up so quickly, so she doesn't move until you get adjusted.

"Thanks," you smile, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Having such good friends always comes in handy, but there's something special to the little moments like these. She hums in response, and the two of you lead the way out to the car.

Rosé watches the whole encounter as she falls in line behind you, wishing she were in Jisoo's place. Last night was a wake up call for her, unexpected in literally every way, and she panicked. Looking back now, she wishes she would've at least explained her behavior to you. The kiss awakened something within her, releasing all of the feelings she's held in for so long. She didn't rush out because she didn't enjoy the kiss; if she had any idea that that's the impression it left on you, she would've ran back in and kissed you a million times over.

Lisa notices Rosie's furrowed brow and downcast eyes, and instantly knows something's up.

Now in the car, she leans in close to ask, "Everything okay?"

"Mhm." Rosie replies, doing her best to sound like her normal self.

The years have made Lisa an expert at reading the slightly older girl, but she doesn't want to push her. If she wants to talk about it, she will.

"Okay…" Lisa trails off, coincidentally making fleeting eye contact with you through the rearview mirror. On any other day, you would've fought Lisa over the seat next to Rosé; but today, of course, is unlike any other. You're in uncharted territory now, and you have no idea when -- or if -- you'll return to normal. For now, you make do with the passenger's seat, keeping yourself busy by looking out the window. Jennie's driving is smooth, and you appreciate that in your altered state. A low pulsing still vibrates through your head every now and then, but it's become much more bearable. Jisoo truly knows what she's doing with that concoction.

----

Hongdae, Seoul -- A Few Hours Later

"Jennie," Lisa huffs out, struggling to carry everything she’s been handed. "How much stuff do you need?!" The maknae does her best to keep the bags from touching the ground, but that task is proving difficult.

"We're almost there!" Jennie says, dismissing the younger girls complaints.

A few minutes later, you're seated at the new restaurant Jennie's spent the night talking about. Seeing the girls so happy today has taken your mind off of your own problems somewhat, but sometimes the issues are unavoidable… like right now.

Though she tries to be discreet about it -- even going so far as to hide behind her menu -- you can feel Rosé's eyes on you. The waiter seated you at a booth, and of course she happened to sit right in front of you. Having her attention has always been something you enjoy, but you're so embarrassed about what happened that you can't help but shy away from it now. If drunkenly confessing your feelings for her wasn't bad enough, you also kissed her. What could be next?

Rosie's dying on the inside a little more with every minute that passes. The past few hours were filled with plenty of fun and stupidity for the lot of you, stopping in just about every store you came across and joking all the while. But the entire time, you and Rosé kept your distance. Occasionally you'd crack a joke to make her laugh or the two of you would share a look, but the air around you was always thick with the emotions you couldn't give voice to. It also doesn't help that part of Rosé is afraid you didn't even really mean to kiss her. If she blames it on your drunkenness, she doesn't have to process her feelings; she can just go back to suffering in silence. When she looks at you, though, she knows there's no denying what you both feel for each other.

"Can I get you started with some drinks?" The waiter approaches again, pen and pad ready to go.

"Do you have sikhye?" You inquire, raising your head to look at him.

"We do."

"Great," you smile, getting an idea. "I'll take one of those and a glass of water, please." He jots down your request before recording the other orders and setting off to get the drinks prepared.

In order to preserve the plan, you don't dare look in Rosé's eyes.

A couple minutes later, he returns with a big tray of drinks; it's a wonder he didn't accidently drop any on the way. Jennie and Jisoo ordered multiple for the table so you could sample them, and you smile at the gesture. They all look tasty, but one in particular catches your attention.

When he hands it to you, you wordlessly slide it over to Rosé. You know she loves it, and you did order it for her, after all. She lets out a little gasp of excitement, and you choose this moment to really look at her. Her eyes are shining again, and you laugh -- if anything is capable of cheering her up, it's something that she can eat or drink.

She beams at you while extending her hand, gently resting it against yours on the table. It's warm and comforting, and you can't help but want to hold it forever. Her fingertips brush against the soft skin of your wrist, and you almost melt at the tenderness of the motion.

Thankfully the other girls aren't paying attention, or else you'd be thoroughly embarrassed. They continue on with their conversation, leaving you and Rosé to get lost in your own world for the next while.

More time passes, in which you place your food orders and the waiter later brings it out to you.

"Enjoy, ladies." He declares before bowing and returning to the host stand.

"It looks so yummy," Rose moans, snatching up her chopsticks before digging in. The other girls agree as well, and soon all of you are eating like there's no tomorrow. The flavors go perfectly together, and you pat yourself on the back for choosing the dish you did.

"Do you wanna try some?" You ask after noticing Rose eyeing your plate. You quirk an eyebrow at her as you wait for her answer, which comes in the form of a sheepish nod.

"That's my girl," you declare with a smile on your face, happy to bring back some of your playful banter. Rosie's heart speeds up at the title, but she tries not to show it too much. Although it's a bit unmannerly, you reach a bite of your food across the table to her and grin when she takes it. Her cheeks puff out in that signature chipmunk pose, and your smile widens.

"Yah, that's delicious." She sighs, closing her eyes to allow her palate to focus on the flavors.

You shake your head at how much of a dork she is for food, but giggle despite yourself. She really is the cutest.

-----

"Good evening, everyone, this is the manager speaking. Our lounge area will open in 10 minutes, and karaoke will begin shortly after!"

Lisa looks at Jennie incredulously, her mouth hanging open. "They have karaoke, too?? How cool is that!"

Jennie smirks, knowing how good she is at choosing places to take you guys. This joint is definitely somewhere that you'll frequent whenever you're around. "I know right?" She asks, satisfied with herself.

In Rosie's eyes, the karaoke announcement was fate working its magic. She's spent the day mulling over everything that's transpired, deciding earlier that all she needed was one more sign. Now that she had that last little push, all she has left to do is gather up all the courage she possesses.

As the 5 of you finish up your meals and wait for it to kick off, she racks her brain for the perfect song to sing. She's going to confess.

---

Fully stuffed and satisfied with the amazing dinner you just had, you all follow the waiter towards the lounge area. Located in the back of the restaurant, it's complete with 1 main, corner stage, and 2 smaller ones off to the side. Plush couches and chairs stretch out in front of the stages, allowing the audience to kick back and enjoy the performances.

A small bar is tucked away in the far corner of the room, stocked with a vast array of different liquors and mixes. Strips of light line the shelves behind the bartender, giving the space its own unique style, and you take some time to admire it all. A few small disco balls hang from the ceiling, placed strategically throughout the room to allow for the most amount of ambience possible. All of the different colors of the rainbow take their turn cycling through the projector, flashing and shining around the room in their random patterns. It's a very welcoming place to be.

You're the first guests in there, so you're free to choose whatever stage you want. "Which one should we go to?" Jisoo asks, doing a little half spin as she looks around the room.

"Really, unnie? You have to ask?" Lisa rolls her eyes and scoffs; she thought her best friend knew her better than that. Obviously Lisa wants to go to the big stage. How else would she show off all of her moves while she sings?

"You're so dramatic." Jisoo grumbles, sending the maknae an annoyed look of her own as she's dragged over to the performance area. You, Jennie, and Rosé trail after them, shaking your heads at their behavior.

----

"Come on, we're going first." You bite back a laugh as you watch Lisa tug Jennie up from her spot on the sofa, where she had just sat down and gotten comfortable. Jennie tries to protest, even pointing at the drink she just got from the bar to convince Lisa to let her stay, but she isn't having it. They walk over to the kiosk built into the wall, and take their time in choosing a song to sing.

Their performance is a wild ride, to say the least. Lisa forgets the words at one point, opting to compensate by freestyling a rap and dancing around wildly while everyone hypes her up. She could've just looked at the lyrics on the stage screen, you realize, but that wouldn't have been even half as fun. Jennie breaks into the box of props sitting just off stage, pulling out a multicolored, frilly scarf and wrapping it around her singing partner. To finish off her own look, she rummages around until she finds a comically large top hat and pair of heart shaped glasses.

"Golden buzzer!" You shout out, pressing an imaginary button on the table. The girls celebrate, and your combined laughter fills the room.

Next up is Jisoo, who decides to put her charm on full display and serenade all of you. She starts off on stage, letting her deep voice lull you into a state of entrancement before she approaches the couch. She greets each of you individually, giving you separate attention just like a rock star would, and all of you go wild for her. She tries to keep up the edgy, heartthrob persona, but it fades a bit when she cracks a smile, her eyes turning into those adorable crescents that you all love so much.

As her song comes to an end, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. In order to go through with your plan -- that is, singing a song to Rosie -- you have to calm your nerves a bit first. You splash water on your face and sigh as the chilly liquid slides down your skin. A bead of it trails down your neck, soaking into the cotton of your collar the second it hits it, and you're reminded of last night. A familiar warmth runs through you at the memory of Rosé's hands on your body, taking care of you like always. She's the definition of girlfriend material, and you always kick yourself for waiting so long to tell her about your feelings.

A basket of paper towels sits on the marble countertop of the sink, and you reach forward to grab one and dry your face. With one final look in the mirror, you throw the paper away and exit the restroom.

Too busy mentally preparing yourself for the performance, you fail to notice that Rosé is already standing on the stage, mic in hand. You lift your head as you near the stage, and she makes eye contact with you; she looks nervous, so you give her a reassuring smile and move back to your seat. Behind the nervousness, you can see how excited she is; you're intrigued.

"So, this song goes out to a very special girl here tonight. I hope you like it." She announces shyly, garnering some applause from the small group of diners that have filtered their way in from the restaurant. She presses play, and shakes her hands out in an attempt to get rid of the anxiety building within her. Up until now, keeping her worries in check had been doable; though as she stands alone on stage, looking down at the object of her affection, she's afraid all over again. And yet, somehow in an instant, you take some of those fears away. You're looking at her with so much love and encouragement in your eyes that Rosé thinks she can accomplish anything.

The song -- one you're hearing for the first time tonight -- picks up, and she begins.

There are three words, & I want you to know they are true

There are three words, that I've been dying to say to you

Burns in my heart, like a fire that ain't goin' out

I need to let you know

You're unintentionally holding in a breath as she croons the words out, singing straight to you. Her soulful vocals ring out across the space, making goosebumps appear on your skin; her voice always strikes a certain chord within you, the beautiful tones sounding like Heaven. She makes it feel like you're the only two people in the room; that even the world stopped for a moment to watch this play out.

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The smile on your face can't be wiped away by anything; no natural force of the universe could get in the way of this. Your heart swells at her confession as things finally fall into place. Possessed by the love you hold for the goddess in front of you, you decide to be brave and join her on stage.

She squeals and covers her face as you approach, and the audience erupts into cheers at this. They whistle and clap loudly, and you can hear the distinct voices of the girls from behind you. Pulling her hands away, Rosé's adorable face is revealed in all its glory. She has tears in her eyes, and they let you know that the past 48 hours have been just as much of an emotional rollercoaster for her as they have been for you.

You press a kiss to the back of her hand, feeling your chest tighten at the way it lightly shakes against your lips. You take a step closer and wrap your arms around her waist as she hooks her right one around your shoulders. Her left hand holds the mic between you two, making it so that you can sing the next part together.

I've never said, these words to anyone, anyone at all

Never got this close, cause I was always afraid I would fall

But now I know, that I'll fall right in-to your arms

Don't ever let me go

I wanna say I love you, I wanna hold you tight

I want your arms around me & I, want your lips on mine

I wanna say I love you, but, babe I'm terrified

My hands are shaking, my heart is racing

Cause it's something I can't hide, it's something I can't deny

So here I go

Baby I lo-o-o-ve you

The entire time you're singing, she can't take her eyes off of you. She watches as your lips move along with the words, your face scrunching up occasionally to aid in hitting all the notes, and she even forgets to keep singing a couple times. You're so close to her, just like last night. She vows that this time will be different, though.

After you finish the verse, Rosé surges forward, closing what little distance is left between you. During the performance you had gradually migrated closer to one another, so that made her job all the more easy.

She leans into you and smiles at the feeling of your racing heart. It lets her know that this is actually happening -- that after spending so many months waiting to finally confess and have you return her feelings, it's happening.

She tastes the strawberry chapstick on your lips, and it reminds her of the time she told you it's her favorite type. You used to wear a vanilla kind… does that mean you switched to strawberry after she told you that? (Yes, yes it does).

You bring your right hand up to her jaw and cup it as you move to deepen the kiss. A soft groan escapes her lips at this, and she doesn't waste any time in kissing you back even harder than before. It's long-overdue, and she can't get enough of you.

All too quickly, though, Rosie gets lost in the embrace, and the lounge is filled with feedback as the mic drops to the floor. She jumps at the sudden noise before snatching it up, her face crimson with embarrassment. After placing it back on the stand, she turns to hide her face in your neck. You just chuckle as you wrap your arms around her again. She snuggles in close to you, and you rest your head against hers.

"Awwww, they grow up so fast!" Jisoo wails, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes.

"Cough it up, Jendeukie." Lisa smirks, sticking a hand out in front of the other girl. Jennie shoots her a glare, but nonetheless reaches to the table in front of her to grab her purse.

"Not another word, Manoban." Jennie says, shoving the 5 dollar bill into Lisa's waiting palm.

The younger girl clears her throat dramatically before saying loudly, "I TOLD YOU SO! Nobody ever listens to the maknae."

You and Rosé can't contain your laughter anymore, and neither can the girls.

Soon the two of you are back on the couches, cuddling in the corner seat as the others make kissy noises at you.

She's nestled up against your side, resting her head against your chest contently.

"I know we kinda did things out of order and all, but I might as well ask. Will you be my girlfriend?" You smile dorkily as she raises up to look at you, a playful smirk of her own tugging at her lips.

"Absolutely, Y/N." She has stars in her eyes and a dreamy expression on her features as she leans in to kiss you again.

626 notes · View notes

cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

Sweeter than Strawberries | Jungkook

→ summary: at euphoria bakery, seasonal changes also bring seasonal menu items. when you find out that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake was phased out after the end of summer, it takes only one puppy eyed look from you for jeon jungkook to make it for you anyway—just don’t tell his boss about it, alright?

→ genre: bakery!au, s2l, fluff → warnings: none unless you count the fact that i’m writing shy!jungkook again :^D, we love mutual pining in this house ex dee → words: 4.5K → a/n: this was commissioned by @ihatemathanal!! i was super stoked to write this bc it’s really cute and sometimes it’s nice to just write happy fluffy things every once in a while (aka zee is turning into a fluff writer jfc) it got a lil longer than it was supposed to, but that’s bc i got carried away lol anyway i hope you guys enjoy!! (ps: this also works for the bgw bingo so... tyg for s2l fics!! let’s get it!!)

For the most part, the beginning of autumn is usually your favorite time of the year. When the tree leaves begin to yellow and the air gains a significantly colder bite, this signifies the end of pit stains and sweaty thighs and the start of sweater paws and chapped lips. Above all, you are most excited, of course, for an excuse to gorge yourself on steaming mugs of hot chocolate, paired with delicious mountains of warm gooey brownies.

For the most part, these are all things that often get you excited for the coming chill. What you do not think to remember, however, is that while these seasonal changes bring more good than bad, there still remains a little snag: a small oversight, if you will. As businesses all over the world begin the annual transition to the colder months, so does your favorite bakery across the street from your university. After all, summer ingredients grow scarcer as the year nears its end, so it’s understandable for bakeries to switch up their menu to keep up with both the supply and demand.

What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, long story short—

Your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake is about to get phased out. No, scratch that—it’s already been phased out, right from under your very nose, no less!

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. You have always known it was a specialty drink; your best friend had even been the one to introduce it to you just near the end of your summer classes:

“This is Euphoria Bakery,” Namjoon had said with a smile, waving cheerily at the two boys manning the till. You heard him chuckle in amusement when your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, staring longingly at the sweet treats and baked goods lining the display case.

Namjoon had stolen your attention away, however, when he pointed to the chalkboard menu on the wall. As it turned out, the bakery also doubled as a cafe, serving the usual coffees and teas while also making the occasional specialty drink for different seasons or holidays. The chalkboard was decorated beautifully, the menu items written out in neat cursive with tiny little doodles littering its margins. On one of the boards, there was a new drink item being advertised in bold pink letters—a great summer treat!—or so it said.

“Jungkook-ssi, can you get me and Y/N a strawberry shortcake milkshake? Extra whipped cream for me, please!” Namjoon called out to one of the boys, startling the younger of the two. The boy, Jungkook, must have been busy fiddling with the cash register that he hadn’t noticed your arrival.

“N-Namjoon-hyung? Sorry, I was just busy counting the money—” Jungkook stopped short in his speech, his tongue getting caught in his mouth when his eyes landed directly on you. He had made a strangled sound, like he had swallowed his spit too quickly and was struggling to regain his composure. “H-Hello?”

You realized belatedly that he must have been greeting you, as you had been distracted by his fidgetiness. His nervousness was cute, if a little bit contagious; you couldn’t help feeling anxious too, like your heart was missing every other beat, even though you had no reason to be. “Hello! My name is Y/N. It’s my first time coming here, but Namjoon says your new summer menu item is really good? I wanted to try it out for myself.”

Jungkook nodded, still staring wide-eyed at you as if in a trance. You expected him to start... well. You weren’t an expert on how bakeries or cafes are run, but you were pretty sure he should’ve started doing something after you had spoken, perhaps ring up your order on the register, or start working on your drinks. Instead, he’s still frozen in place, like he’d somehow short-circuited within the last two minutes.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed his odd behavior because the man working with him suddenly pushed Jungkook to the side, a brief smirk flashing across his face before it was quickly replaced by a more subdued, professional smile.

“Sorry about him. He’s usually my best baker, but sometimes he can get a little... distracted when he’s confronted with sweet things,” the man said nonchalantly, but it seemed that his innocent-sounding comment had embarrassed Jungkook greatly.

“Jimin-hyung!” Jungkook whined, stomping his foot not unlike a bunny. If you squinted a little bit, you could definitely see the resemblance.

Namjoon, who had been quietly watching everything unfold, chose that moment to pipe up. “Oh, I see. I didn’t know you had a type, but after thinking about it—” Namjoon shot a surreptitious glance at you, before turning back to Jungkook with a teasing grin, “—I can definitely see why.”

At the time, you had no idea what was going on, mostly confused as to why Jungkook had suddenly become so red-faced while Namjoon and Jimin giggled like a couple of high school girls. It seemed like you were somehow the main reason for his embarrassment, so you were quick to poke Namjoon in the stomach, effectively silencing him.

“Hey! Stop teasing the poor boy. He’s just being nice,” you said, pointing a soft smile back at Jungkook. “Sorry about him. I’m sure you’re an excellent baker, judging from how wonderful and cute all these cakes on the display look.” Somehow, your praise had only made Jungkook’s cheeks brighten even further. He cleared his throat as if to say something in response, before changing his mind and scuttling away to the back room instead.

“I’m going to start making your milkshake! D-don’t mind me!” He called out from behind the door, causing Jimin to finally break down into raucous giggles, nearly doubling over from his own mirth.

“Aish, that kid. He never learns, huh…” Jimin sighed, but the smile on his face is kind—the sort of fond look an older brother might have for his kid brother. He turned back to you and Namjoon with that lingering softness as he rang the two of you up, before chatting idly with you as you waited for Jungkook to finish making your drinks.

“I’ve never seen you around, Y/N-ssi. Jungkook—sorry, I meant I definitely would’ve noticed you if I did. You go to the same university as Namjoon-ssi, right?” Jimin asked, flipping a pen between his fingers with incredible dexterity. You were slightly distracted by that, faintly jealous of how his short fingers could somehow manage such a feat.

“I—yeah, I do. I’m assuming you’re also a student?”

“Yep. I actually met Namjoon-ssi when we took that one music theory class together. I was handing out flyers for this bakery after class and he happened to be one of the first people to actually come,” he said, winking at Namjoon. You watched with much interest when your friend turned a faint shade of pink, his hand coming up behind his neck—a signature tick of his whenever he was feeling shy or nervous.

“I-It was nothing… I mean, your seasonal drinks are always so good! I remember your old snowman-shaped donuts with the raspberry filling? I still dream of it sometimes,” Namjoon sighed, eyes going glassy for a moment.

Jimin laughed, his eyes crinkling into cute little crescents. “Oh, stop it! I remember how you’d come here even after we stopped serving that donut and you’d beg us to make them again.”

“And yet you never did, even though I know you have the ingredients to make them,” Namjoon pouted, but there’s endearment dancing in his expression.

You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “I never pegged Namjoon as a sweet-tooth guy, so this is honestly all a very big surprise to me. I should be pumped for this milkshake then, huh? Hopefully, you aren’t just hyping it up and I’ll end up disappointed.”

Before either Namjoon or Jimin could retort, Jungkook had reappeared from the back room with two large cups in hand, almost tripping over his untied apron string but managing to get to the counter in one piece.

“Here you go. I hope you won’t be disappointed when you try it,” he said, gaze averted downwards when he hands you your cup. Your fingers grazed each other for a second, nearly causing both of you to drop the drink like it was on fire.

“S-sorry,” you laughed it off, feeling your ears get a little red from your blunder. You pointedly ignored Namjoon’s arched brow, no doubt enjoying your sudden shyness. Without waiting for him to get his own cup, you casually tear off the straw wrapper and take your first sip of the drink.

“So?” Jungkook asked after a while, watching with bated breath as you take a good gulp of the milkshake. “How is it? Is it worth the hype?” You don’t speak for a moment, further aggravating the two bakers as you carefully chewed on the bits of strawberry in the drink.

“This—” you said, speaking slowly for increased dramatic effect. You could hear Namjoon groan beside you, used to your need for unnecessary anticipation. Even as you paused for a moment longer, you could already feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to completely hide your giddiness. “—is fantastic. Show-stopping. Best thing since sliced bread! I could live on this shit alone.”

Jungkook released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, chuckling in relief as you began to completely devour the treat in mere minutes. “I’m… really glad you like it,” he said with a wide, toothy grin. You were so immersed in your drink that you missed the way he sighed softly, hand gently cradling his chest where his heart would be.

Namjoon had taken his own sip as well, sighing dreamily as the creamy and sweet flavor overtook his palate. “Truly the best drink in existence. If I was a Twitch streamer or some shit, I’d promote this regularly for free.”

His comment made Jimin giggle softly, but his gaze is trained on something else entirely. “I’m flattered, but maybe don’t promote Y/N’s cup, over here. We don’t typically have strawberries and hearts doodled all over our cups,” he said, smirking slyly.

Lo and behold, your cup did have small doodles littering its sides whereas Namjoon’s was just a plain white paper cup. “Oh,” you said, blushing furiously when you finally noticed. Your flush was nothing compared to the one on Jungkook’s cheeks, however. The two of you refused to make eye contact after that, both of you trying (and failing) to silence the amused snickers of your respective friends.

Despite that slightly embarrassing (and heartwarming) experience, that had marked the start of your love for the tiny bakery and their special strawberry shortcake milkshake. You returned to Euphoria Bakery as often as you could throughout the summer, even going to visit it without Namjoon most of the time. You would even occasionally go out of your way to visit the bakery, even after your summer classes had ended and there was really no reason for you to be around the area.

It also didn’t hurt that the boy behind the counter was especially cute, with his big doe eyes and melodic laughter that always got your heart beating erratically in your chest. It hadn’t taken long for you to admit to yourself that you had a not-so-tiny crush and every visit to the bakery only made you fall deeper for him.

Namjoon has assured you that Jungkook clearly has a crush on you too, but you’re quick to shut him down. It is one thing to be shy and awkward around a girl and another to have a crush on the aforementioned girl. As you visited the bakery more and more, you do notice that Jungkook is more reserved when it comes to other female clientele, although, dare you hope? He does seem a little bit more… nervous, when he talks to you, but that could be your lovesick eyes playing tricks on you.

Never mind the fact that he only ever seems to leave cute doodles on your cups alone, but that could just be a coincidence, right? After all, he can hardly hold a conversation with you when you try to speak with him, always eager to rush to the backroom to make your drink.

Your visits usually consist of making idle chit chat with Jimin after greeting both him and Jungkook. The younger boy often dips the moment he sees you through the glass door, automatically going to prepare your favorite summer treat without even having to ask for your order. He never stays to stick around long enough to make conversation, as he eventually excuses himself to do some chore or another. During one of your trips, you tentatively asked Jimin if Jungkook was avoiding you, to which the blonde boy just laughed heartily at your query.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. He’ll come around eventually; he’s just nervous. Don’t tell him I told you this, but…” he trails off, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t accidentally overhear him. When he turns back to you, the smirk on his face is equal parts amused and mischievous. He looks a little impish, though you aren’t sure if he’d take that too kindly. “Jungkook always stares out the door, waiting for you to arrive. I’ve caught him red-handed far too many times for it to be a coincidence.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at his words but don’t say anything after that. You suppose all you can do is wait for him to start warming up to you eventually, and you hope the day comes sooner as the summer days grow shorter and shorter.

Of course, that day does come eventually, but probably not on the day you wished it would happen.

Like all good things, summer comes to its close and so does the summer menu options offered at Euphoria Bakery. Jimin had already told you a week beforehand that your favorite strawberry shortcake milkshake would get phased out as soon as July hit, but you refused to listen. You had hoped that as his regular customer and friend, perhaps Jimin would make an exception and prolong the milkshake’s lifetime for your sake, but it seems that Jimin has made it clear that friendship and business are two separate entities that he will not allow to coincide.

“Please Jimin? Just one more time? I’ll even settle for a small size,” you beg, your entire body draped over the cashier counter like the pathetic plebeian that you are. Thankfully, since you have made it a habit to pass by the bakery when it’s close to closing time, there aren’t any other patrons left to judge your pitiful display. Unthankfully, that also means Jimin is free to flick you on the forehead with no holds barred, leaving a large red welt where his finger hits.

“I already told you that I won’t budge, not even if you licked my Balenciagas. Besides, we’re out of strawberries anyway.” Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes at your pained whines as you grasp your head in agony. “Oh stop it, will you? I didn’t even hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ, hyung.” Jungkook pipes up, startling both you and Jimin. Jungkook is usually content to wiping down the glass displays or tables while he passively listens to the two of you bicker, humming occasionally to indicate that he’s still listening, so it comes as a small surprise whenever he does decide to speak up. He must have noticed this too, as his ears quickly begin to redden as he scrambles to finish his sentence. “I-I mean, hyung might have small hands, but his finger flicks are no joke. You could break someone’s skull with that thing.”

“Who are you calling small, huh?” Jimin growls, but the playful smirk on his face tells you that he’s just teasing. He pulls Jungkook in a headlock, who surprisingly doesn’t seem all that bothered by the fact that Jimin is actively trying to block his windpipe with his strong forearms. “Take it back!”

“Never,” Jungkook wheezes, effortlessly removing himself from Jimin’s grip. He dusts himself off, not even breathless. “Also, why’d you lie to Y/N like that? We still have strawberries in the back. How else would we make our strawberry jam tarts?”

Jimin squawks indignantly, folding his arms. “How dare you sell out our company secrets! I could fire you for that!”

Jungkook scoffs, bumping Jimin with his hip. Jungkook must also not know his own strength, because he accidentally causes Jimin to stumble a few steps back, nearly toppling over one of their bread racks. “You’re joking. If you fired me, no one would be able to make the bagels in the morning because you never know how to proof them correctly.”

“Slander!” Jimin hisses, pinching Jungkook’s side in retaliation. You and Jungkook laugh at his childish pouts, but the older boy can’t hide his own mirth for too long. “Fine. You can stay. But you,” he points at you this time, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You better not seduce my boy over here to make your strawberry shortcake milkshake. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” He drags his finger to the corner of the walls, where there is—

“There’s nothing there?” You follow where he’s pointing, but all you can see is a stray cobweb that Jungkook must have missed while dusting this morning. “Am I supposed to be looking at something?”

“Jimin is thinking of installing surveillance cameras soon. He’s convinced that someone is trying to steal his banana cream pie recipe.” Jungkook shrugs. He slings an arm around Jimin’s shoulder, glaringly delighted when their height difference becomes even more apparent while he stands close to him. “Anyway, I promise I won’t get ‘seduced’ by her, or whatever you want to call it. Why don’t you head home early for tonight? I’ll close up and I’ll try to convince Y/N to try our other pastries as a replacement.”

You open your mouth to try and protest, but Jungkook sends you a cheeky wink, making sure that his boss doesn’t catch him in the act. Bemused but interested to see what he’s up to, you decide to keep quiet and wait for him to continue.

“Don’t try and think you’re being slick here, buddy,” Jimin says, closing in on Jungkook’s personal space by pressing his chest against his. “If I see that you break the bakery code and serve her that drink… There will be consequences.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically as he gently pries the smaller man away from him. “Yeah, yeah. I got you. No funny business, I promise. Now get out of here, hyung. Leave the rest to me.”

Jimin gives him one last firm look before squinting warily at you, lips pursed tightly. “No seducing,” he repeats, wagging his finger at you. He unties the apron around his neck, throwing it haphazardly at the coat hanger on the back door where his jacket was hanging. He folds it over his arm and points at the corner of the ceiling with his free hand once more before exiting through the front entrance, the soft bells hanging above the doorway tinkling in his wake.

When he’s gone, you release a breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “Well, that was easier than expected. I didn’t think you’d be able to get him to leave. He must trust you a lot, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Nah. He’s just lazy. He hates closing the bakery and will jump at any opportunity to go home early.”

You nod. “Seems like him.” There’s a beat of silence. “So… How much seducing am I gonna have to do to get my milkshake, huh?”

Like you guessed, Jungkook immediately turns red at your words, spluttering and stammering over his spit for a few seconds before managing to come up with a reply. “O-oh, there’s no need for that. I was gonna make the drink for you anyway.”

“But what about the quote-unquote consequences?” you ask, still worried that you might be getting Jungkook in trouble. You’d rather have your arm cut off than have him get punished, no matter how small it might be.

“No need to worry about that. Jimin might pretend to be a prickly old man sometimes, but he’s mostly just full of hot air,” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head in amusement. “He’ll just make me treat him to some skewers or something. He’s just teasing.”

“If… If you say so? I just really don’t want him to get angry with you…” you say, voice turning small as you tried to reign your embarrassment in. “I know I made a fool of myself just moments ago and begged like a baby for the milkshake, but I was just exaggerating…”

“Something tells me that you aren’t, but let’s pretend for your sake that you are,” Jungkook says. You huff indignantly at his teasing, but you’re more overjoyed by the sight of his cute bunny smile. You had only seen it in passing a few times in the past, but seeing it directed at you is an entirely different experience. Because of you, your mind helpfully supplies.

He heads over to the backroom to begin preparing your drink, but he keeps the door open this time so you can see him even from behind the counter. You can mostly only see the large industrial ovens and bread racks filled to the brim with all sorts of pastries proofing for the night, but you do catch a glimpse of the sole blender near the back. Jungkook grabs the glass jar first and then walks over to the fridge just out of your sight, most likely to grab the ingredients needed for your milkshake.

The bakery is mostly silent, save for the sound of Jungkook moving and assembling everything. You rack your brain for some sort of conversation starter, as the atmosphere between the two of you has begun to return to its usual awkward state as you skirt around each other, unsure of where either of you stands. You might have known him for a while now, but today is the most you’ve ever spoken to him and the tension is palpable.

“So.” You clear your throat, heart beating a mile a minute in your chest. “I… guess this is going to be the last time I have this drink, huh?”

The sound of Jungkook chopping on the cutting board pauses for a second. You can only see his left shoulder from where you’re standing, but you can see it tense even then. “I… I mean, will you stop coming over to the bakery if it is the last time?”

There are so many things you want to say all at once, but the words somehow get caught in your throat. You want to say that you love coming to the bakery to see them (though it’s mostly Jungkook if you’re being honest) and that the strawberry shortcake milkshake had just been an excuse to visit for a while now. You want to keep visiting for as long as they’ll have you—but you don’t know how to say it without hot humiliation running down your spine. You don’t want to weird him out by confessing to him all of a sudden. And so, you clam up, not knowing how to respond.

When Jungkook throws in all the ingredients in the blender, he doesn’t turn it on immediately. He tilts his head to the side, not fully looking at you but giving you a view of his beautiful side profile. You see his Adam’s apple bob for a moment, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he speaks. “Because… If that’s how it’s going to be, then maybe… buying a couple of skewers for Jimin won’t be so bad.”

You freeze. “What? Are you saying that...”

“I’ll keep making the drink for you, even if it’s not on the menu anymore?” Jungkook finishes, turning fully to face you. There’s a shy grin on his face, coupled with the ever-present pink flush high on his cheekbones. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ll have to be sneaky about it, though. You’ll have to come to the bakery only when I’m closing so that he doesn’t catch us but otherwise…” He scratches the tip of his nose, looking embarrassed. “If… If you’re fine doing that, I mean.”

It feels like an eternity before you can remember how to function like a regular human being again. Your insides feel like molten lava and you’re certain that your internal organs have begun to self-destruct right after that super-effective hit from Jeon Jungkook, super baker boy extraordinaire. It’s mind-blowing how effortlessly cute he can be, making you realize belatedly that his quiet demeanor over the past few weeks had been a blessing and not a curse. If he had been this sweet with you from the get-go, you’d surely be melted butter on a sidewalk by now.

“I would love you—I mean, I would love it if you did that for me, actually.” You stammer, resisting the urge to punch yourself in the tit. You’re thankful for the lack of mirrors at the bakery, for you are positive that you must look like the devil’s blazing red testicles at this point.

“Great,” Jungkook smiles softly. He turns the blender off, pouring your drink into a paper cup. “Oh, before I forget…” He grabs a marker from the small tin can near the cash register, and you watch as he quickly scribbles a few hearts around the circumference of the cup. “There we go. Now it’s done.”

As Jungkook hands your drink to you, you’re hit with a moment of déjà vu when your fingers brush just like the first time you had met. You sense the same familiar shock of electricity when you touch, but instead of pulling away like before, Jungkook surprises you for the third time that day.

When he’s sure that you have a secure grip on your cup, he grabs your free hand with his, unfurling your fingers until he can get a hold of your pinky. He curls his pinky into yours, linking them together with a bashful smile on his lips. “There. Now we pinky promised to each other.”

“Y-yes. Of course,” you mumble, giggling lightly when he still refuses to let go. “I pinky promise.”

Five minutes away from Euphoria Bakery, Jimin sits quietly in his parked car, his figure hunched over the small screen of his phone as he chuckles loudly to himself. There is a tiny video of two people, a boy and a girl, with their hands held together. Despite the quality being grainy and warped, Jimin needs no confirmation as to who those people are; he’s always known, after all.

“All according to keikaku.” He whistles happily, already salivating at the thought of all the skewers Jungkook will have to buy for him.

1K notes · View notes

colorseeingchick · 3 years

Text

Crushing On You (Kirishima, Tamaki, Toyomitsu (Fat Gum))

Ion know bout y’all, but I consistently act weird around my crushes. That being said, I also can NEVER tell when someone has a crush on me (although I’m told its obvious). So let’s commemorate that, shall we?

A/N: This one is dedicated to the lovely @kirislut. She passively told me to write this and I was like yeah! And then proceeded to take 2 months to do it *sigh*. But yeah stan her or face my wrath >.<

Warnings: None! It’s fluffy. Y/N is written to match the age of the character (so a first year for Kiri, third year for Amajiki, late 20s for Fat).

Kirishima Eijirou (xBruh!Y/N)

Kiri would be crushing on you for a long time before he even realizes he’s crushing on you.

You would be a part of the Bakusquad, and you also made an effort to stand up for yourself against Bakugou, and something about that really got to Kiri.

You were somehow so *manly* while also so hot AND cute? Damn, how do you do it?

Not that he understood that he saw you in such a light.

Because Kiri doesn’t realize he has a crush on you, he wouldn’t necessarily be super blushy or flustered at first.

When around you, he’s showering you in compliments.

When you aren’t around, he’s constantly bringing you up in conversation. Every conversation. With every single person.

He would also team up with you to tease Bakugou.

And you already know that if anyone had anything negative to say about you, then he would stand up for you in a heartbeat.

He really admired you, to say the least. He loved being around you. That was all (he thought).

That is, until the bros™ decided to give him a talk.

“So..Y/N?” Is all Sero would say.

And obviously Kiri smiled at your name, but didn’t know why they were bringing you up.

“Are you gonna ask them out anytime soon? If you wait any longer I might just do it myself,” Kaminari tries to playfully nudge Kirishima into understanding.

“Ask them out???” Kiri is now in shock! Because where did this come from!

That being said, his face also got as red as his hair, and the thought of you hugging him or staring back at him felt like a really pleasant idea all of a sudden.

“Oi, shitty hair, don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own feelings. Are you really that much of an idiot?” Bakugou asks, his tone irritated and disinterested.

Although, he’s kinda invested in seeing you two get together at this point. The whole squad was.

And then it hit the man like a truck.

Shit! I have a crush on the coolest, strongest, most amazing person I know.

After this point, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to ask you out yet. But he definitely starts acting differently.

Usual shoulder leans and elbow nudges now make him feel like Kaminari was electrocuting him..

Any compliments you sent his way would cause Kiri.exe to stop working.

And your smile would make him feel starstruck.

It was a breaking point when a school sponsored dance came around and you showed up looking like a WHOLE SNACK in the most elegant dress/tux/(whatever badass clothes you wanna be rockin). .

Kiri straight up would not look at you. He fully refused to turn his head in your direction, which was hard because the Bakusquad decided to spend the whole time there together, which meant he wasn’t leaving your side.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bakugou was so confused (I mean same. Kiri THEY LOOK LIKE A SNACK why aren’t you basking in their glory jeez).

“SHHH Bakugou. It’s not manly to stare…”

Kiri was worried that he would ogle you into discomfort, jaw dropped and eyes wide because his heart would burst upon looking at you for too long.

In turning his head, he didn’t notice Kaminari and Sero approach you, whispering into your ear.

It was only when you came up and tapped him on his shoulder that he turned around and looked at you, you smiling at him.

“Hey Kiri, do you wanna dance with me?”

Hey would pause, because he was really flustered, but then he would flash his huge toothy grin and gladly take your hand, pulling you onto the dancefloor to dance with him into the night.

BONUS: While dancing with you, Kiri would only look at your face and refused to look at your feet, causing him to stumble a couple of times.

And naturally, you would ask him about it.

He would blush but explain, “I didn’t want you to think that I was staring down at your body and making you uncomfortable…”

WANDERING EYES ARE NOT MANLY! change Kiri’s mind.

You would laugh and respond, “Hey, if you need to look at our feet to make sure we don’t trip, I don’t mind.”

But you would then pull close to him, wrapping one hand around his neck and speak quietly into his ear-

“And if you wanna look at the rest of me while you're at it, I wouldn’t mind that either.”

Kiri.exe has stopped working once again. Good job Y/N!

Amajiki Tamaki (xGentle!Y/N)

Tamaki would have a crush on you after being your friend for a little while.

Like at first he was super nervous around you because people are nerve inducing and scary (I feel ya buddy its ok).

Over time though, you guys became closer friends. He realized how gentle and sweet you were.

You would spend a lot of time together, studying, going to get food, and training together.

You also would spend late nights together, especially when one of you was stressed or having a panic attack. You kept each other safe.

It wasn’t a surprise to Tamaki when he found himself wanting to spend more time with you.

It didn’t shock him that he loved looking into your eyes.

He felt himself, and watched himself, fall in love with you.

But despite that, he wasn’t really as awkward about it as you would expect him to be.

Your entire relationship had been very wholesome and close from the start, and because he was aware of his feelings from the get go, there wasn’t any real shock.

Ultimately, you were his safe space, and he would rather not compromise that by bringing his emotions into it. He was content to love you from a bit of a distance.

In a non creepy way, he loved to watch you. He knows looking at people you love or feel safe with is a really good way to calm anxiety and ground yourself, and that’s what Tamaki does all the time with you.

Just watch you work or eat and laugh. It was enough to keep him together.

And the times you told him “I love you” made his heart soar, even if he knew it was platonic.

He also had a journal with writing in it, where he would write small notes or lines about his thoughts. Many were about you and how pretty you looked when you came to his room in PJs when you couldn’t sleep, or how happy you were when you down a bowl of ramen, or how-

You get the idea.

Though he was content with accepting his crush on you, nothing could have prepared him for how you found out.

You both had been working together in his room. He was working on some homework while you were studying for your *least* favorite subject, math.

So you ask if you can see his notes to help you understand better.

“Yeah. It’s the first one on my shelf. Its the most recent pages.”

What he forgot was that he had moved it into his backpack and the nondescript notebook that sat first on his shelf was his journal.

While he kept working, you opened to try and figure out how integrals worked, but instead were met with a cute doodle of your face with a heart next to it.

The line above it said, “On a cold day, y/n’s smile keeps me warm.”

It was oddly poetic, a lil sappy, insanely heart tingling but cOMPLETELY out of left field because- what? This was definitely NOT integrals.

“Tamaki, I don’t think this is the right book…”

He looks up and his face drops in horror as he sees you with his journal, your eyes dazed and unsure.

“O-oh! I’m s-s-so s-sorry I-”

He trips off his bed and runs right up to you, tugging the notebook out of your hand and pulling it to his chest. “This isn’t how I meant for you to f-f-find out I have a c-crush on you-u.” His eyes are glued to the floor.

“...Tamaki, you have a crush on me?” You ask, in a calm (but very shocked) tone.

His eyes shot up, wide, and he scrambled through the notebook to see what you read. It was just the doodle and one line, but if you had flipped a page back, you would have seen a long rambling explaining how much he liked you.

But, you didn’t flip a page back, and instead, Tamaki had 100% exposed himself.

“Y/N I’m s-so so sorry you probably think that I’m a creep now I swear that I really value our friendship and I don’t mean to ruin it so you can just forget about this and-”

He went on for a while, lost in his words and slowly falling apart while you were trying to process what you heard.

He had a crush on you too? What a relief. You wish you realized sooner! But better late than never right?

Now for how you were gonna calm him down.

On instinct, you wanted to jump on him and kiss him till he couldn’t breathe, but that would probably freak him out more than anything else.

So you just do what feels right.

“I really hope you don’t hate me or think I’m weird you just really make me feel complete and peaceful and I never meant to-”

You reach out and gently take hold of one of his hands, pulling it to your face, and softly kiss his knuckles.

He stops rambling and looks like a deer in headlights as his face ignites into a bright red.

“WHY DID YOU-”

“Shhh.. Tamaki… I like you too, okay? I like you a lot. So please calm down.”

What a roller coaster for this poor boy. “Y-you don’t think I’m obsessed with you?”

“I don’t! Well, if you’re obsessed with me, I’m just as obsessed with you, so its okay!”

You smile at him and he blushes, hiding his face into his shoulder, his hand still sweetly entangled with yours.

“I, I’m glad,” he manages to get the words out after a few seconds.

For the first time in the history of your relationship, Tamaki was a flustered blushy mess with you.

“Cmon Tamaki, we have more studying to do!!” You want him to mentally gather himself, so you take him back to his bed, hands still intertwined.

BONUS: After failing at studying, Tamaki laid down on his bed and stared at the wall, failing to nap, while you were sitting at the foot of the bed.

His mind was racing.

“We like each other, but we haven’t talked about it since that moment… What if things are going to be awkward? I don’t want it to be what should I-”

The bed dipped down behind him and an arm snaked up around his torso. His back was pulled against your chest.

“Is it okay if I take a nap with you, sweetheart?” You ask in a lazy and sleepy voice.

His heart fluttered at the nickname. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m glad. I love you, Tamaki.” And with that, you nuzzle into his back and fall asleep.

And with the feeling of your arms and your stable breathing, he realized you were still his safe space. And with that he was lulled to sleep.

Toyomitsu Taishiro (x Foodie!Y/N)

You’re assigned to represent your agency for the team-up with Fat Gum’s agency.

When you rolled in, Fat Gum didn’t take much note of you at first.

But when you intensely fawn over takoyaki during lunch break on the first day, he felt like his eyes were being reopened and he was seeing you for the first time.

Love at first meal!

Though he initially found you attractive because he shares his love of food with you, he slowly found himself loving everything about you.

You’re a lighthearted person, with a big heart and an even bigger appetite.

You brought a lot of joy, and that was energy Taishiro could never get enough of.

He knew he was a goner when one day were pranked by one of his Agency members, got caught off guard, and ended up jumping at him.

He caught you and held you (cuz hero instincts obviously), and in that moment you couldn’t help but hug him out of fear (and because he’s SO CUDDLY REEEEEE).

But that’s enough for him to realize he wants to hold you more. And often.

Yeah he’s whipped okay.

He definitely tries to keep it professional! And not *overtly* flirt with you.

But he brings you food literally 2 or 3 times a day.

That may sound like a lot, but given its Fat Gum, it came off pretty innocuous at first.

He’s also really observant, so he picks up on what type of foods you really like.

So he very often pulls up with your favorites, which always makes your day better.

He also tries to give you some of his favorite foods, and days you like his favorites were the best.

He was living his best life watching you be happy, even in a professional setting.

Fat Gum finally came forward about his feelings for you after a mission went awry.

It was supposed to be an information retrieval mission- simple get in get out.

You, Fat, and Sun Eater were going to be working together.

Fat would guard, Sun Eater would infiltrate and restrain, while you would obtain necessary documents.

That plan is sabotaged the moment you realized the League is also present- when they definitely were not supposed to be.

Before you can process this shocking information, a knife is being plunged into your stomach.

Toga smiles down at you- “pretty blood from a pretty person, I’m sorry I can’t help myself.”

She jumps back when Sun Eater sends an octopus arm at her.

He grabs you in the process and pulls you back, where Fat is now standing by his side, eyes wide in horror.

He takes you into his arms, and the last thing you feel is being held against his fluffiness before blacking out.

When you wake up, you’re in a hospital bed, Recovery Girl on one side of you, and Taishiro on the other, in his skinny form.

Evidently, he had beaten most of the villains to a pulp, but the League had dipped before he could do much more damage.

But after that, he had carried you to the ambulance and hasn’t left your side since. It’s been half a day.

“Fat Gum…”

“Hey do me a favor and call me Taishiro, okay?” He asks you very gently.

“Tai-shiro…” Oof his heart skipped a beat at hearing you say his name.

“Taishiro, the mission…”

“Shhh it’s okay. There’s an interrogation of the villains that we captured going on right now, and Fourth Kind’s agency is following up on our leads. We did our job for now.”

“Are you okay? Amajiki-kun, is he okay?”

“We’re both fine. Some scratches on him, a lil fat lost for me, but we’re okay.”

“Taishiro...The agency, why are you here? You should be there running the ag-”

“I want to be here with you. That’s why I am here. I trust my assistants to cover for me right now.”

“That’s very nice of you, but I still don’t understand why…”

“Because I like you. I like you lots, Mx. L/N. I know our relationship has been professional, but seeing you injured was something I didn’t…. I care a lot and I couldn’t find it in myself to leave you here alone. I hope our relationship can stay professional and friendly though, I really enjoy spending time with you.”

Recovery Girl looks back and forth between you two, eyeing your shocked face and his determined, serious one.

“I’ll be back to check on you in an hour, Y/N. But I’ll leave you two alone for now ~~~”

You paused, silent. The longer you stayed silent the faster his heart began to race.

Suddenly, you sit up, placing weight on the heels of your palms.

“Y/N you’re still injured what are you-”

It's your turn to cut him off, grabbing his jacket and yanking him towards you with your left hand.

Your right hand going to wrap around the back of his neck,

and your body falls back,

Caught off guard, half standing, and balance lost, Fat’s upper body is now looming above yours, his hands planted on either side of you.

His eyes are wide, and your hands on the back of his neck are warm.

“I’m sorry, Taishiro… but I don’t want this relationship to stay just professional. So can I kiss you?”

His heart flutters, and his classic grin spreads across his face as he closes his eyes and let’s his face close the distance between you two.

BONUS: You and Fat Gum decided that you didn’t want to tell people that you had started dating- the news would take it and make it a public affair.

But you decided to leave it up in the air for your agency to figure out. They were your friends after all.

The first to catch on was Amajiki, but he stayed quiet.

But the new recruit Kirishima wasn’t as quiet about his suspicions.

When he walked in to see you hug Fat Gum, he didn’t know how to react.

You both seemed fine and acted as if hugging was a perfectly normal thing he shouldn’t be surprised by.

You say goodbye and pat Kiri’s head on the way out.

The last thing you heard was a loud scream, followed by a “Fat, you and Y/N are dating?”

Yeah! Cat’s out of the bag.

259 notes · View notes

lnarizakis · 4 years

Text

i found you! | b. koutarou

hey @bokutokoutarou ! you were my recipient for the summer exchange fic. i really hope you enjoy this, and that we can become friends after this!

pairing: bokuto koutarou x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

look out for: soulmate au, tooth-rottingly sweet fluff, pining

“...You’re hearing voices in your head?”

“No, no, there’s just one... and they keep going on and on ‘bout whatever! And it sounds like they’re trying to talk to me, too, and I’m getting a little scared!” Bokuto complained to his junior, Akaashi, about this voice he had been hearing in his mind for the past week. It was unrecognizable at first; he paid no attention to it, but throughout the course of the week the voice had been growing louder and louder. It slowly became unnerving for the ace.

“Oh, I see,” Akaashi glanced outside the window. He then turned back towards Bokuto, face still in evident distress. “It’s your soulmate.”

“My... my what?” Bokuto was appalled. His soulmate?

Akaashi, too, was appalled. “Have your parents never told you about what a soulmate is?” Bokuto shook his head, signaling a negative response. Akaashi widened his eyes in apparent shock.

“Wow.” Akaashi was rendered speechless. Looks like he’d have to tell Bokuto what a soulmate was. “Well, a soulmate is someone you’re destined to be with. You’re bound to them for life. Everyone is bound to their soulmates in different ways. In your case, Bokuto-san, you can hear your soulmate’s thoughts.” The setter glances down at the timer on his wrists. Still several more years before he could meet his own soulmate.

Bokuto “ohh”ed in realization. He then pulled a face, one that Akaashi knew all too well. It was his thinking face, usually worn by the former during their volleyball games. He stayed in that position for some time, until his face lit up with excitement.

“Ah! Akaashi, I did it! I talked to her!” Bokuto exclaimed. Akaashi gave him a small smile, proud of his upperclassman.

O N E .

“Oh no, a quiz?! We have a quiz today?! I didn’t study for it at all!”

Bokuto panicked. He sat at his desk, sweat forming on his forehead. He was so afraid for this quiz specifically, because if he were to fail it, God forbid, he most definitely would not be able to take part in the Spring Interhigh Tournament. His mind raced with the same thought over and over again. In the heat of the moment, he hadn’t realized that he was pounding his soulmate’s head with the thought.

(Y/N) was currently in class (and conveniently just a couple classrooms down), trying her best to focus on the lecture in front of her. But it was difficult. So, extremely difficult.

“Could you please, with all due respect, shut up? I’m trying to learn right now,” she communicated to Bokuto. In an attempt to make peace with him, she added on, “Good luck, though.” At that moment, Bokuto came up with the best idea.

“Wait a minute. Do you think you could help me?” Bokuto’s heart raced. Depending on his soulmate’s answer, he may or may not be able to attend the tournament.

“Sure, I guess. What is it on?” (Y/N) gave up on trying to listen to her teacher, who was droning on about a topic that was completely unrelated to the lecture. It looked like she would have to do extra studying after school. Oh, the things she would do for her soulmate.

“Classic literature. It’s my worst subject!” If it was possible to whine and complain in one’s thoughts, Bokuto was doing exactly that. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. With the willpower she had, she was able to contain her chuckle.

“Alright, I’ll help you; I think I’m alright in that subject.”

—

“So, how’d you do?” (Y/N) asked him a couple days later. The substitute for her class was running late, so she made use of her free time by talking to her supposedly-unknown soulmate. She looked down at her notebook that she had taken out, sketching rough, small portraits of what she thought her soulmate looked like.

“My teacher’s handing them out right now,” Bokuto replied. Through his thoughts somehow, (Y/N) could identify the worry laced in his thought. There was a hint of confidence, however, since the answers that his soulmate provided him seemed right. At least right enough to turn in his quiz with some confidence.

After a string of “Oh, no”s, Bokuto rejoiced. Thanks to his soulmate, he was able to participate in the Spring Interhigh Tournament!

“I’m so glad I was able to help you!” Despite not knowing who in the world her soulmate was, she couldn’t stop smiling. There was a little bit of a hint she learned about him too— he played volleyball.

T W O .

In the time that (Y/N) got to know her soulmate, she learned how comforting he can be at times. Despite how he came across as an idiot at times, he was perhaps the one person she could talk to whenever she needed comfort. His simple words were enough for her.

One night, (Y/N) found herself staring at the ceiling of her bedroom. She couldn’t sleep. No matter how much she tossed and turned, or set the right conditions for maximum comfort for sleeping, she just couldn’t go to sleep. It was like the universe was keeping her awake. And for what?

The thoughts of not being able to sleep swirled around in her mind, and soon enough, Bokuto asked her if there was something wrong. She replied that it was no big deal, and that he shouldn’t worry much about it. Despite this, Bokuto insisted for her to confide in him. And so she did.

“I’m not too fond of the idea of soulmates. I really hate to tell you this, but I just... I don’t want to be destined to be with someone, you know?” It pained her to tell this boy, and she could tell it pained him, as well.

Bokuto, who had been awake for quite some time as well, lay in bed with a blank stare. He looked all around his room, trying to find at least some answer to her thoughts. (Y/N) had more to say, however.

“...And I don’t even know who you are. I mean, I know some things about you, but I don’t know-know you. I don’t know your name, or what school you go to, or what you would like to do after you graduate high school, or—“

“Bokuto Koutarou— that’s my name. You don’t have to tell me yours if you don’t want to. But... that’s something about me. To help you get to know-know me. And I go to Fukurodani High School. And I think I’m gonna continue volleyball after high school... Is there anything else you want to know about me?” Bokuto interrupted (Y/N)’s train of thought. He began to open himself up to his soulmate so that she would be able to open herself up to at least the mere concept of soulmates. It would take a bit more time, he thought, before she would want to begin to open herself up to him.

“Okay, well,” (Y/N) began, “Tell me what’s the first thing you do when you wake up, and the last thing you do before you go to sleep.” She giggled; she was curious to know what he’d say.

To hum in his thoughts was something typical of Bokuto, and he did just that: “Hm, I think the first thing I do when I wake up is... I mean, after I open my eyes, is jump outta bed! And the last thing I do before I go to sleep is...” He hummed again, “close my eyes. And then I think a ‘lil bit. About everything, really! Sometimes I begin to dream about my soulmate... you, and what you look like, and when we’ll meet, and how we’ll meet, too, and—“ Bokuto exhaled out loud. He’d love to meet his soulmate one day.

“Well, thank you, Bokuto-san. Hopefully we’ll meet someday. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night,” (Y/N) told him as she dozed off to sleep.

Bokuto Koutarou, huh...

T H R E E .

“Favorite color?”

“I’d say gold! The color of my eyes!”

Another boring lecture meant another day of playing 20 Questions with Bokuto for (Y/N). She had just asked her seventh question, which, along with the past six questions, had been entirely superficial. However, they weren’t quite as ridiculous as the questions he had asked her.

Case in point: “What are you going to have for lunch today?” He asked. Without context, it probably would have been pretty ridiculous to ask that, but given that lunch followed after the current period and that Bokuto was insanely hungry, it seemed probably reasonable to ask that question.

“I think I’m going to have what they’re selling today in the cafeteria,” (Y/N) pondered. Though, she was probably going to stick with her usual whatever’s-available-in-the-vending-machine. She looked down at her notebook, doodling a very rough image of the volleyball ace that everyone at school knew.

Ever since that one night—that night when she couldn’t go to sleep for the life of her, she had been in utter shock at the fact that Bokuto Koutarou was her soulmate. Everyone knew about him— from how he’s absolutely impressive at pretty much every sport he played to his overwhelming presence that made the general atmosphere of wherever he was so much lighter. He was like a light in her eyes, but he didn’t know who she was at all.

“Can I go again? It’ll count for my next question,” Bokuto asked. (Y/N) complied, and he followed her response with “You don’t think I know who you are?”

So she was thinking out loud. “I mean, you know me only because we’re soulmates. Other than that, I don’t think you know anything else about me—“

“My next question! What makes you think I don’t know anything about you?” Bokuto asked again.

“I mean—“

“I know that you’re my soulmate, which means you’re the one for me! I’m supposed to help you. With everything,” Bokuto continued, “because you’re my everything.”

(Y/N) looked down in embarrassment, her face turning red.

“You’re embarrassing,” she thought. “Don’t you realize what you’re saying right now?”

From Bokuto��s classroom, all he could do was smile softly. “I don’t realize most things I say,” He jokingly stated. His own embarrassment started to creep up on him, making him begin to regret what he said, or thought, to his soulmate. “Sorry if it bothered you, or something.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it; let’s just keep playing,” (Y/N) responded, guilt weighing down on her for unintentionally shaming him for his embarrassing words. “It’s my turn now. Let’s see... what position do you play in volleyball?”

Bokuto’s mood instantly lightened as he proudly answered, “I’m a wing spiker! The ace!”

—

Several questions later, it was once again Bokuto’s turn. He was on his nineteenth question when he asked (Y/N), “Do you think there’s ever a chance I could show you a soulmate’s really worth it?”

“Bokuto, I—“

“My last question— my twentieth question. Can you give me the chance to show you why soulmates are destined for a reason?”

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before she said, “... Okay.”

F O U R .

“Huh?! You’re still awake at this hour? I just woke up!”

Bokuto had jumped out of bed to begin his morning run. As he was changing from his sleepwear to something new for running outside, he heard muttering similar to white noise in his mind, which meant that his soulmate was awake and, somehow, barely thinking.

(Y/N), having been restless the entire evening, decided it would be a good idea to pull an all-nighter. Currently, she was lying in bed, watching the sun peek out through the blinds of her window. The brightness illuminated her once-dark room, and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her for not properly taking care of her body by sleeping.

“I’ve been awake. What are you doing right now? At five in the morning?” (Y/N) snapped back. The tiredness was getting to her.

“I’m about to go on my morning run! Now, what are you doing?” Bokuto replied. He was so genuinely curious to know what his soulmate was doing at this time, why she was up and awake, before he noticed that he disregarded the harsh and tired tone she used on him.

“All-nighter. Couldn’t sleep at all.”

“Oh! My friend Akaashi pulls those all the time. He’s always tired, just like you are right now!” Bokuto beamed, hoping to get at least some positive reaction out of her. But all he got was a dry laugh—if it was even possible to laugh in one’s mind— along with an obviously sarcastic “thank you, I know I’m tired right now.”

“Well, since you’re awake right now,” Bokuto continued, “why don’t you talk to me? I’d rather listen to you instead of my music.” To his surprise, (Y/N) complied, but, as she claimed, the only reasons she had were that she was tired and had nothing else to do.

—

After a conversation about Bokuto’s favorite kinds of breakfast foods followed by the sports that (Y/N) enjoys watching, the ace took a rest, sitting down underneath a tree in a park near their school, watching the sun paint the sky different shades of purple and red.

“Hm, I have a question for you. Why are you so adamant about wanting to show me the wonders of a soulmate? I mean—without me in your life, you’re pretty much free to fall in love with whomever you want,” (Y/N) spoke truthfully. Her question made Bokuto raise an eyebrow, but mostly because of the large words she used in phrasing it.

“... What does ‘adamant’ mean?” was all he could say. From the comforts of her bedroom, (Y/N) laughed heartily. The thoughts that came with her laugh were positive, as she commended Bokuto on saying the first thing that made her smile that day. She soon let him know what it meant, though, and Bokuto “ooh”ed in his mind, earning another laugh from (Y/N).

“Soulmate,” Bokuto called her this since she still never told him her name, “my friend Akaashi said that we’re soulmates because we’re bound together. There’s gotta be a reason why we’re bound together, right? Why our souls are destined to be with each other, right? Or else we’d just be... mates, and not soul-mates.”

“...I see.”

“And...I got nothing.”

“Bokuto, why don’t you try finding me?” (Y/N) suggested. “If you’re so adamant about the fact that because we’re soulmates means our souls are bound together—that our souls are destined to be together—you should easily find your way to me, right?”

Bokuto stayed silent.

“Look, this is what I’m saying. Why don’t you act on your belief? Find me, and if you do, I’ll know that our souls are not meant to be apart.”

(Y/N)’s soulmate remained silent for some time before he responded.

“I’m going to find you, soulmate. I’m going to find you one day!”

F I V E .

She stared blankly at the vending machine in front of her. She tried not to reveal that she was currently thinking about whether to choose between strawberry or banana milk, so as not to reveal her location, if Bokuto were to find out she went to Fukurodani High School. Little did she know that he had a bit of help from his volleyball teammates in deciphering who exactly she was.

—

“What’d she think now?!”

“Ah! Uh, she doesn’t know if she wants strawberry or banana milk!” Bokuto exclaimed. The Fukurodani third-years, along with Akaashi, were gathered around Bokuto’s desk. On top of it was a notebook, opened to a half-covered page of scatter-brained notes of his soulmate’s thoughts.

Konoha hummed, and placed a hand on his chin. “Okay, from that we know that she’s also out at lunch. Maybe she goes here!” In Akaashi’s mind, he thought that it was awfully quick (and definitely extremely convenient) to assume that she goes here, but he did not express this disagreement of his.

Bokuto agreed with his logic, and in the notebook he wrote, “Probably goes to Fukurodani.”

“Does she have any new thoughts, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi spoke up.

“Um, yeah. Okay, uh, she’s thinking about who to eat with,” Bokuto replied. He picked up the pencil he dropped from excitement, and began to write down keywords from her thoughts. Sarukui looked on, noticing that Bokuto was writing the names he recognized.

“Bokuto, you wrote down Suzumeda-san’s name!” He called out. The ace leaned back to look at what he had written down, and sure enough, he had written one of the two managers of his club’s names down.

“She goes here!” Everyone in the huddle exclaimed. Bokuto’s other classmates who were also in the classroom slowly turned around in questioning curiosity, wondering what in the world they were doing.

“Bokuto-san! I think you should just go look for her. What was it that you said again...?” Akaashi questioned him.

Bokuto stared blankly at Akaashi for a brief second to recollect his thoughts from the recent shock, and soon after he came to his senses he responded that his soulmate said that if soulmates really are destined to be together, he should go look for her. With that in mind, his teammates ushered Bokuto out of the room and cheered him on to go find his soulmate.

Adrenaline rushed through Bokuto as he was pressured by his teammates to go find his soulmate. He was going to meet her today!

He dashed down the third-years’ hallway to go outside, nearing the closest vending machine. For a moment he pressed his face against the clear glass, to check the contents of the machine. He could see a row of strawberry milk boxes and next to it a row of banana milk boxes. Gears inside had ceased whirring, signaling to Bokuto that someone had just used the vending machine.

Bokuto’s heart stirred, and instinct told him to run out into the courtyard. Following his instinct, he sped out of the hallway in which the vending machine was, and opened the door that led to the courtyard. He had opened them so quickly that he didn’t see the figure of a girl in his year on the other side about to open the door, despite the large window in front of him that made up a huge component of the door’s upper half.

He walked straight into the girl, and the sudden shock pulled them back, to see who they had run into.

“He actually... He found me!”

“I found you!”

#haikyuuwritersnet #hqwn secret summer #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto kotaro #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto x reader #haikyuu bokuto x reader #hq bokuto koutarou #hq bokuto x reader #hq bokuto #cadekagi

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duskholland · 4 years

Text

9.45pm - Peter Parker

summary ↠ you work the closing shift at a bakery and Spider-Man makes a habit of appearing at 9.45pm to walk you home.

word count ↠ 3.7k

warnings ↠ a lil bit of angst/hurt and comfort. minor descriptions of injury. a bit of swearing, but this is mostly fluff.

a/n ↠ I really loved writing this one. I felt so happy the whole time and ! I am very excited for people to read it, so I hope you enjoy it :)) I’ve also recently redone my taglist, so if you’re interested in that, it should be linked at the bottom of the post. feedback always appreciated!

THE BAKERY YOU WORK AT is one of New York’s hidden gems. Tucked away beneath a level of luxurious townhouses, the small space is covered in vintage artwork, bright leafy plants, and warm exposed lightbulbs that cast a web of kaleidoscopic light across the space. Your regulars love the way it’s their secret, love the way it’s as if they’re walking into their own secret hiding space every time they creep down the green metal staircase and walk in through the jangling door, and you love the way it’s like a little community revolves around the place. The air is always alight with the scent of fresh pastries and sound of relaxed laughs, and there really isn’t anywhere else you’d rather escape to after school.

You always work the closing shift on weekdays, slipping down into the shop at 5pm and locking up at 10pm. It’s always the quietest hours for the bakery - the best loaves of bread and the most perfectly iced cupcakes are always snatched up by commuters in the morning, so the only groups of people who wander into the bakery when you’re there are those on the lookout for discounted baked goods. It’s always relaxed, and as the hours creep by, more than often you find yourself being paid to sit behind the counter and read a book than actually deal with any customers, so it’s a winning combination all around.

Your job at the bakery is normal and unassuming. That is, until the night Spider-Man stumbles into your shop.

It’s around 9.45pm, and you’ve just finished pulling down the shutters. Your shop may be set on the basement level of the building, but you have two large windows at the front that catch the light from the sun and drowse the bakery in a warm golden glow during the day. At night, however, it’s a little creepy, and you’re happy it’s almost closing time so you can quickly walk home and clamber into bed. It’s been a long day.

The bell perched on the door rings loudly and you jump, clutching at your heart as you spin around to greet the latecomer, hoping that they aren’t expecting too much. At this stage in the night, the only goods leftover are the ones you haven’t snacked on: a round cherry pie, a few broken biscuits, and a box of crumbling scones. As you open your mouth to greet the customer, your eyes fall on the figure and you find yourself stumbling over your words.

It’s… Spider-Man?

“Uh- uh, hi, M-Mr Spider-Man,” you squeak, feeling the hot heat of your blood pulse across your cheeks. Faced with the iconic red and blue colours of the spidersuit, you find your mind blanking, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Though you can’t see the face beneath the mask, you get the overwhelming suspicion that you’re being chuckled at.

“I’m hungry,” he replies. Your eyebrows raise as you take in the soft, high voice that escapes him. “My, uh, my aunt always talks about this place, and I saw it was open, so…”

You clear your throat. Right. That’s fine. Spider-Man knows your bakery. Spider-Man is here in front of you. Spider-Man wants some cakes. This is fine.

Swallowing down your nerves, you nod and attempt a wide smile. You gesture to the cabinet and walk back towards the counter. “We’ve not got much left, I’m afraid. We close in ten minutes, so most of the good stuff’s been taken.” You peer back at the cabinet. “There’s a cherry pie, some biscuits, a few pastries, or some scones.” You look up at him, and as unnerving as it is to look at a masked figure, you smile again. “Anything grab you?”

He pads across the floor and scratches at his chin. “Could I have the pie?” He asks, after a moment. “Oh, and, uh, the biscuits.” He looks up at you. “What happens to this all if it isn’t sold?”

You rub your hands together, a little surprised by his question. “Well, it’ll go off by tomorrow, so if I don’t eat it, it gets thrown out.”

The eyes of the Spider-Man suit are incredibly emotive, you realise, as you understand the way they’ve moved is to imitate shock. Spider-Man himself sighs quietly. “Do you want any of this stuff? Like- will you eat it?” He asks.

You shake your head, biting your lower lip guiltily. You’ve already cleared out the treats you like. All that’s left now are your rejects. “Nah, I don’t like this stuff,” you admit.

His posture shifts and Spider-Man stands taller. “I’ll take it all, then. Please.”

You hide your surprise and instead grab a box and begin to wrap up the goods. He’s watching you carefully, and you can’t help but smile shyly up at him. “Busy night?” You ask, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

He shrugs. “Not really. Crime’s pretty low at the moment. Just small things - yanno, petty crime, small break-ins, stuff like that.” He glances around at your shop. “Are you the only one working just now?”

You nod as you wrap up the box in the special bakery paper. “Yeah, I close by myself on weekdays. Gets kinda lonely, but it’s nice, in a way.”

“You guys have good security here?” And he’s off, walking around the shop, glancing at the doors and the windows.

“Eh.” You shrug. “The boss had cameras put in, but that’s about it. I like to think that this place is off the beaten track enough to not be the source of any robberies.” You prefer not to think of it, really.

“Right.” Spider-Man wanders back to the counter and you place the finished box on the top for him. “Well, how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” When you know he’s about to protest, you interrupt. “Really, it’s on the house. This would all go to waste anyway, so… You’re really doing me a favour. Please take it.” You glance across the bakery and see the clock says 10pm. “Anyway, it’s 10pm now, so, technically I’m not allowed to make any further sales.” And you smile, knowing you’ve won.

He’s silent for a moment. “Thanks, uh…”

“Y/N.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. “Do you leave now? Can I wait with you?” When you raise an eyebrow, he adds, “It’s not always safe out there, especially when you’re alone.”

“Alright,” you agree, trying to hide the fact that you’re ecstatic. Spider-Man wants to look after you? The Spider-Man.

He waits for you as you complete your normal checks: cash box, windows, door. After a quick tidy up of the place, you wrap yourself in your large jacket and follow Spider-Man from the shop. Once the front door’s securely locked, you tuck the key in your pocket and shrug at him. “Okay, well, that’s me done now,” you say. It’s chilly, and despite the street illuminated by street-lamps, it’s also eerily dark. In the distance, you hear the chilling sounds of groups of people, their yells and shrieks cutting through the air.

“Can I walk you home?”

You look down at your feet. “Don’t you have other people to look after?” You ask. “Cities to save, and all that?”

You can almost sense the smile from beneath his mask. “Nope,” he says, voice light. “Just you.”

And you sigh, because really, how could you say no? “Okay,” you agree. “That would be nice.”

There’s a soft pause, and you have to fight the toothy grin off your face. It’s just the promise of a walk home, but you can’t help but feel that it’s somehow far more significant than that. With the way he gently nudges your shoulder with his, you have the feeling he knows the same.

“Show me the way, Y/N!”

----------

Over the following few weeks, Spider-Man drops in almost every day. Always at 9.45pm, always in search of sweet treats, and always ending in him escorting you home, your hands occasionally bumping together. And after a few encounters, you feel as if you’re starting to know him.

You chat to him, and ask about him, and feel like you get to know him. He’s still a mystery to you, of course, but you work out he’s seventeen too, and he’s incredibly smart. He’s got a large heart, and so much kindness and consideration tucked away beneath that suit that you know there’s no one better to take the mantle of Spider-Man and be the superhero the city’s so proud of. And he seems to care about you, too. On several occasions, you’ve been wiping down the tables when he’s grabbed a spare rag and started working alongside you, asking about your family, your pets, your friends… Everything that makes you you, really. And it’s very nice. Very, truly, sweetly nice.

So nice in fact that you find yourself daydreaming in chemistry class, your hands moving with your thoughts as you doodle absentmindedly over a spare page in your notebook. You’ve finished your lab and the teacher’s run out to grab something, so as you wait for the bell to ring, you let yourself unwind. Your eyes are focused lazily on the paper, you don’t even comprehend what you’re drawing until someone taps you on the back and you startle to attention.

“Hu- what?” You mutter, looking up suddenly. The tap came from a figure standing bashfully behind you. Peter Parker. “Uh, Peter, hi.” You don’t know him well, but you’ve been in the same classes since you transferred to Midtown for sophomore year. He’s always kept to himself, but you think he’s a nice guy.

“Hi.” His nervous brown eyes flit around your face, and you find your cheeks warming. “Whatcha drawing?”

Before you can cover your embarrassing scribble, the drawing’s in his hands and he’s staring at the image intently.

“Oh, uh, just, uh, Spider-Man?” Now your face is hot for an entirely different reason. “I’m not, like, obsessed with him or anything creepy like that. I just… He’s cool, I guess?”

Peter glances up at you, brown eyes soft and round. “This is very good,” he compliments. He passes you back the paper and you quickly stuff it into your bag, your heart beating quickly. “I didn’t know you liked art.”

Your eyebrows furrow together as you tilt your head, looking at him, bewildered. “We aren’t really friends, Peter,” you say, your voice not unkind but still confused. “I don’t know much about you either.”

An expression like a dawn of realisation passes over Peter’s face, and he takes a small step back. “Yeah- yeah, of course.” He scratches at the back of his neck, his long, surprisingly muscled arm flexing in the air. “If you’d ever want to hang out, uhhh, let me know?” And he sounds so uncertain that you can’t tell what he’s really asking, and nod along.

“Yeah, of course.” You scribble down your number on a piece of your notebook and pass it to him. “I work in a bakery, if you ever want to drop by,” you offer. Working five hours a night, five days a week, means friendships are hard. You know from experience that the best way for people to see you is for them to drop by.

“Which one?” Peter’s staring at the paper you’ve given him, eyes burning over the number you’d printed for him.

“The Muffin Man. It’s on 53rd and-”

“22nd,” he finishes. “My aunt loves it there,” he adds, blushing a little. “I’ll drop by one day.”

You swallow your surprise and nod your head. “I’m there every evening,” you say. The bell goes, signalling the end of class, and you gather together your things.

“Well.” Peter rocks back on his feet, his forehead creased. You have the feeling he wants to say more, but the moment passes. “I’ll see you around then, Y/N.”

You smile slowly. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Have a good day, Peter.”

And you walk out of the lab, a slightly light spring to your step. In an odd way that you can’t quite explain, it felt as though you’re old friends with Peter.

----------

It’s 9.45pm the following Monday when Spider-Man next bursts through the shop door. So used to this, you don’t look up from rows of numbers that fill the account books, and instead call out a distracted, “Hey!”

But when you hear the crashing of a chair falling over, your head bolts up, and you gasp as you see Spider-Man standing there, wobbling significantly, deep stains of blood clinging to the lighter patches of his suit.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. Quickly grabbing the first aid kit from beneath the counter, you run out onto the shop floor and offer him an arm. “What happened? What can I do? Are you okay?” He sags into your side and you carefully lower him into a soft armchair, your frantic eyes fixed on his arm and the sight of his oozing blood.

“Got hit,” he manages, voice hoarse. You blink slightly, noticing for the first time that his voice sounds a little familiar. “Fuck, I’m- it hurts.” And he sounds so weak that you suddenly feel like crying.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Can I look at it?”

He reaches up and presses a concealed button on the suit, and you watch as the sleeve of his arm loosens and fall to the ground, exposing one of his pale, fleshy arms. The fact that he’s shown you a part of him is quickly overcome by worry as you see the bullet wound.

“It’ll heal by itself,” he says, voice hoarse. “Can you see if the bullet has passed through?” He’s pulled taut with pain, and you feel your heartbeat quicken as you kneel beside him and peer at the wound.

“I think it’s exited,” you say. You gentle move his arm around, examining it carefully. “Yeah,” you add. You see the exit wound. “Can I clean it up and bandage it?”

He jerks his head in a nod, and you get to work. You feel terrible as you wipe at the source of his agony but work as quickly and gently as you can to remove all the dirt and then wrap up the damaged area. Once you’re done, you get to your feet and wring out your hands. “That’s you,” you say. You rub at your eyebrows and feel lines of tension weaving across your forehead. “I’d say go to the hospital, but if you heal by yourself…”

“I’ll be fine.” Spider-Man surprises you by tentatively getting to his feet. “I feel better already.” His voice softens out, and you feel your heart race in your chest as he takes you in his arms. Suddenly you’re hugging him, your cheek pressed against his warm chest with his hands pressing into your back, and an untameable giddiness bubbles up in your chest. “Thank you so much,” he speaks. The outline of his nose nudges gently against your head, and one of his hands slips up your back, fiddling with the tips of your hair.

“It’s, um, it’s okay,” you manage, system running in overdrive. For weeks your crush has been building, but you’ve managed to keep it dormant, telling yourself there’s no way he’d ever like you back. But with the tender way he’s curling the ends of your hair around his fingers, maybe - just maybe - you were being too harsh. Maybe there’s a possibility that something could happen.

“I appreciate you,” he speaks, voice quiet. “There aren’t many places I can go and just...be myself, I guess. I’m glad you let me do that here.”

You peel your head away from him and look up to Spider-Man’s concealed face, his hands pressing into your back as you wrap your hands around his waist.

“Always,” you promise. You wish so desperately that you could see his face.

After a moment, he steps back, the warmth of his touch vanishing. You sag a little.

“What are your favourite kind of flowers?”

You think for a moment. “Forget-me-nots,” you answer. “Why?”

“No reason.” He shifts on his feet. “Now, tell me what cakes you’ve saved for me tonight, yeah?”

----------

Something is up. You haven’t seen Spider-Man for a week, and he’s never disappeared for that long before. You find yourself going a little crazy, thoughts and doubts racing through your head every time it reaches 10pm and you’re left alone to lock up and walk home. Did you scare him off? Was that hug a test, and did you somehow fail it? Did he decide you were no longer interesting enough for him? Is he hurt?

It’s 9.45pm, and you’ve grown so used to silence that when the door swings open with a loud ring of the bell, you jump, clutching at your chest. You look up immediately, expecting to see Spider-Man, but instead seeing… Peter Parker?

You’ve not spoken to him since he saw your drawing in chemistry class, but you have texted a few times. He’s nice, but you had no idea he’d intended on dropping by the bakery, and you can’t help but feel disappointment hollow out your chest as you see him, replacing your normal visitor. But you smile at him none the less, especially when he procures a bunch of blue and white flowers.

“Peter?” You ask, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. He looks nervous yet confident, his soft brown hair arranged neatly on his head, his eyes open and inquisitive. He comes towards you and offers you the bouquet.

“For you, Y/N,” he stammers. His freckled cheeks stand out as his skin fills with a rosy blush. “I, um, hope you like them.”

You take the bunch and marvel at the beauty of the flowers. “No one’s ever given me flowers before,” you breathe out. You stare at him, heart squeezing in your chest. “How did you know I like these? They’re my favourite.”

“Uh…” He seems trapped, and suddenly you’re struck with a thought. The way he’s standing - bashfully, but still strongly - and the slight lilt in his voice when he said your name… It’s awfully familiar.

“What’s going on?” You mutter to yourself. You put the flowers down on the counter and step back, hands going to your temple as your mind spins at a hundred miles an hour.

Both Spider-Man and Peter had told you that their aunt liked your bakery. They both appeared at 9.45pm, just before closing. They both know your favourite flowers. Is it possible..?

“Hey, hey.” Without realising it, you’d walked from behind the counter and are now stood, wobbling, in front of Peter. You feel a little dizzy, your heart beating rapidly as Peter reaches out to you, his hands settling on your shoulders as he peers at you nervously. “Calm down. Your heartbeat is crazy.” And he pulls you to him, but all you can focus on is that fact that he knows your heart is pounding against your rib cage.

“You’re…” You break off as his hands press into your back, the hug feeling familiar. For a moment, you settle, breathing in the clean scents of Peter’s nutty aftershave, but then you pull back, questions replacing your peace. “You’re Spider-Man!”

You stare at him intently, watching as his face cycles through an array of emotions: surprise, reluctance, fear, excitement, relief. He jerks his head in a nod.

“Yeah. I am.”

Your jaw drops. “Peter Parker is Spider-Man,” you whisper to yourself. You look at him, shocked. “Why- how- why would you tell me?” Is what you settle on eventually, completely flabbergasted. “I’m… I’m just a normal person, why would you tell me?” You can’t understand how this secret - so personal, and important, and powerful - has fallen into your lap.

Peter’s lips tweak into a smile. “You’re not just a normal person, Y/N.” You realise your hands are clasped in his and feel your heart bloom with adoration as he squeezes your fingers. “You’re clever, and funny, and kind. You like chemistry, and baking, and speaking to me when I’m Peter or Spider-Man, and you even helped me when I was hurt.” His eyes are wide and pleading. “You are many things, but you are not only normal.”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only person in New York. Peter - shy, smart, witty Peter - is Spider-Man - someone who you’ve admired for years, and grown close to over the past weeks. Spider-Man is here, in front of you, mask off, showing you the most intimate details of his person, bunch of flowers and all.

And it makes you feel truly seen, for possibly the first time in your life.

“Why would you tell me?” You whisper, tilting your head to the side. The air is tender between you, and you become aware of how near you both are.

Instead of speaking the words you feel vibrating between you, Peter slides a hand up onto your cheek, his thin fingers spreading over your skin, tendrils of warmth flowing to your face. His other hand moves to your hair, lacing strands around his fingers as he steps closer, his eyes wide, questioning. You give him a little nod and feel your eyes drift close blissfully as he kisses you, his mouth soft, tender, warm. Happiness spreads through your chest as you push back against him, wrapping your hands around his waist as you kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

Moments later, when you’re both breathless and flushed with satisfaction, he pulls back. His forehead stays pressed against yours, and you gaze into his eyes, feeling a soft warmth flood the depth of your heart.

“I like you so much, Y/N,” he whispers. You can hear the nerves wobble in his voice. “I know I can trust you with this. I wanted you to know.”

Your lips pull into a wider smile. “I like you too, Peter,” you say. His fingers stroke your hair as his face creases with happiness. “Kiss me again,” you add, feeling a deep burning desire to be near him, hold him, love him.

His smile grows bolder as he nods gently. “Whatever you want, Y/N.”

And in the middle of your tiny bakery, tucked away from the rest of the city, Peter takes you in his arms. Your bodies connect tenderly, gently, completely, as your hearts intertwine. Love blooms in your chest as you feel him all around you, and as the clock strikes 10pm, you know that this is the start of something wonderful.

----------

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

taglist ↠ see this post to be added :D

@behind-my-hazeleyes27 @stiles-o-dylan24 @stilinskiswritings @stealth-spiderr @youngblood199456 @stixnstripesworld @mischiefandi @penguinchick100 @hcomet28 @aftrrglo @scottish-sim @cosmicholland @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @sweet-baby-cakes @apatheticanvas67482 @oh-whatabeautiful-parker

#peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tom holland #woohoo #i just love this concept ?? so much #i hope you do too #catch me being soft thinking about hugging spiderman in my cute bakery #my writing #twilightparker writes #yayayayay #self-insert #y/n

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kvgehiras · 3 years

Note

waaaa i'm sure whatever you have typed up is great!! if you ever decide to post it, i'll look forward to it ♡

cough cough SO UM,,, ik this is oddly specific but i hope you don't mind aha .. a character of your choice with someone who has some important exams coming up soon, maybe?? i've like ... procrastinated like all of my work and slept through the entire few weeks before,, so i'm currently on the brink of eternal sleep (my fault, wholly, really) i don't mind who, just pick your favourite/s!!

thank you in advance!! qwq

hello again anon!! THANK U AAAA i might post it after the current event ends bcs im busy grinding lately lol but i will post it soon so i hope u like it ehe ;; as for ur schedule PLS SLEEP !!!! i do know the feeling off not doing any of ur work nd just resting but sometimes it's ok anon! studying when ur not feeling like it will only feel like a chore nd u probably wont be able to retain any of it. so study when u want to, bcs while exams r important, so r u hehe <3 anyways here r the charas!! wrote a lil scenario for mika, leo, nd rei!! hope u like it <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

KAGEHIRA MIKA

• mika overworks himself alot, mainly bcs he just wants to prove, to himself and others, that he is worthy of being a part of valkyrie

• but he still likes being a lil spoon when yall r cuddling (o˘◡˘o)

• while he is a powerful artist when hes on stage, he just melts when hes in ur arms yk!!!!

• so he doesnt mind it when lately u seem to be slacking off a bit more than usual bcs he gets more cuddles from u !!!!! #mika1stwin

• but when u suddenly stop out of nowhere nd even refuse to come out of ur room at times bcs uve procrastinated ur work too much nd if u do not finish going through ur material then ur doomed to fail nd oh lord-

• "(y/n)?"

• u look up at ur bf nd hes standing beside u- w his stuff in his hands.....?

• "ah ya see.....ya've been lookin' a lil stressed lately so i thought abt.....helpin' u like this! idk what is troublin' ya, but im here to always listen! :D"

• u break into a grin, one mika had missed so much, nd grab his cheeks to plant a kiss on his cheek

• nd still keeping ur hands where they are, u pull away to look at his bright red face

• "thank u mika... ill always be here for u too, ok?"

• nd he quickly nods, scared to meet ur eyes, esp bcs of the close proximity of ur faces rn

• what a lil baby

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

TSUKINAGA LEO

• leo is honestly the last person u want to see when ur trying to finish learning ur material,,,that too in a rush

• like!!!!! u love him u rlly do but this bitch will start doodling abt his inspiration nd all nd ur brain just cant focus yk

• that, nd also that if u dont give him Any attention At All he will literally wither away nd basically refuse to sleep nd WILL stare at u till u give him kissies (nd he alrdy doesnt sleep enough........ sigh)

• so when he wakes up in the middle of the night (the one night u managed to somehow get him to bed) nd doesnt see u in the room a part of him panics

• he quickly calls out for u nd when he hears u respond from the study room, he opens the door to see u slowly turn around from ur chair, tired, shoulders slumped over

• immediately rushing over, leo tightly wraps u in a hug, a hand running through ur hair

• "(Y/N)!!!!!!!!! WHERE WERE U!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I THOUGHT THE ALIENS KIDNAPPED U!!!!?!!???!!!!!!! DONT LEAVE ME AGAINNNNNN ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

• "leo it's 2 am.......nd also i didn't leave u, u know? im right here!"

• the exhaustion was very evident in ur voice, so much so that leo pulled away only to squint his eyes at u nd go "r u not ok? u sound tired ...... gasp r u DYING????????? NOOOOO U CANT DIE UR MY INSPIRATION!!!!!!!!"

• "leo thats v sweet nd while yes i Am dying im not leaving u it's ok"

• leo smiles, which turns into a grin, nd then he suddenly gasps again nd oh lord what idea is it this time

• "(y/n)!!!!! how abt i sleep here????????"

• ".....huh?"

• "YEA!!!!!! didn't u leave that room so u wouldn't disturb me?????? but im lonely so......ill just sleep on ur lap then, ok? ok! good nightttt!!!!!!!!"

• nd then he places his head on ur lap, the other half on his body relying on the chair he was previously sitting on for support

• while he isnt wrong abt the disturbance part.....he does look content here.......nd he does feel lonely so ......

• mayb u just gotta learn today what u can wing everything at this point...... it's gonna be ok . probably....?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SAKUMA REI

• unlike the other two, rei wouldn't even have to guess that ur not doing ok, he would just Know

• nd what does he do to help? flirt w u nd get u to let him teach u obv!

• he Knows it's not rlly teaching, nd so do u, but what can u do when he looks at u w those puppy eyes of his, nd says that he'll do anything nd everything in his power to always help u

• so when he does take in whatever u have to study he..... he realises he's Also bad at this

• good job rei rlly helps out a ton!

• anyways to make up for it, nd also stick w his promise to help u, he tells u to go through the material, nd explain it to him! he heard somewhere that it works bcs it forces u to rlly understand the concept instead of memorising it nd u think it should work

• but oh god how is it supposed to work when rei keeps looking at u w stars in his eyes, nd his hand suddenly grabs urs nd he circles his thumb on the back of ur hand nd IS HE FLIRTING IN THE MIDDLE OF A STUDY SESSION

• rei playfully quirks an eyebrow when he sees u get flustered nd just . lay ur head on the table w sigh nd just whine

• "REIIIIIIIII I HAVE TO STUDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

• he chuckles bcs he does realise what hes doing to u nd honestly he loves ur reactions so he keeps doing it

• "fufufu.....sorry love, i'll be quiet now. go on, do ur thing." (liar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ur too flirty for a study session!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

• tip : never keep him in the same room as u when u have work to do . keeps flirting . too much distraction .

• ratings : 200/10 . the additional 200 points is bcs hes too cute to say no....... god he rlly has u wrapped around his finger huh

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ahwait-no-yes · 3 years

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so basically my friend told me today about her dream she had that involved a demon and of course my mind went “...SAIOU AU”

here’s our convo so it makes sense:

if I had the motivation i would DEFINITELY write a fic about this- the fluff/crack/angst potential is t h e r e

and as a bonus doodle,

story is under the cut (it’s long)

“I was gonna keep this in tags but hsdf;j” is what I originally wrote here until I started thinking about this more and sorta wrote the whole plot-

-> as ouma’s killing the other monster things he flirts with shuuichi while the poor demon has never been flirted with so he’s stood there all confused and ??? (his version of blushing would be like, the fire coming from his small horns gets bigger and brighter)

-> the one he summons ends up being like. kaede and they both just end up having to lecture shuuichi on why it is that he should not want to die so easily

-> eventually kokichi and kaede wanna give him a hug so they try to but shuuichi’s Extra Hot™ (from being a demon and also probably blushing) so they both immediately regret that choice but kokichi laughs and gives an obligatory pun about shuuichi being hot which only confuses him because ‘of course im hot?? im a demon??’ while kaede explains what ouma meant

-> imagine shuuichi crying (fire tears..) at the generosity of these two strangers who a) aren’t absolutely terrified of him, b) refuse to hurt him and c) actually *want* to help him and ouma actually inwardly understanding a little bc he’d never imagine someone actually wanting to be with himself either

-> saihara now wanting to know what it’s like to live as a human with ouma and akamatsu but being unable to find a way (except for maybe being undercover?) but promising he’ll bring ouma back to him (he’s aware of the whole aging phenomenon in the lil demon world so he wants to keep their time short) and ouma finding that now he has something to look forward to

-> the 👏 mutual 👏 pining 👏 that commences after they both have to leave each other (if kaede knows kokichi in the real world she’d definitely tease him a little knowing he has a crush- this is probably good potential for building oumaede friendship)

-> it takes a while before ouma and saihara can see eachother again because getting the two to escape without killing saihara exerted a lot of energy on him, but they do get to! about once a month to be safe, and they get to know stuff about eachother like which shops ouma likes to steal from and shuuichi’s really loud demon friend he once had (aka momota)

-> one day though saihara tells ouma that if he keeps doing this he’ll die of exhaustion (it takes a lot of energy from saihara to get ouma in and out of there) and ouma calling him an idiot but really being worried. saihara tells him not to worry about him even if something happens to him, and makes ouma go back to the real world

-> ouma doesn’t hear from him after that

-> he worries he might have been killed or saihara forgot about him and feels stupid for being so hopeful in something so childishly impossible and starts trying to forget about him

-> the real world is aware of demons cause people talk about them (and obvs you can tell when someone’s gone to their.. dimension thing because you can visibly see them age) so still denying that he’s curious and likes saihara still, ouma tries to go to libraries and do his own research on demons and ends up finding out that saihara specifically comes from a bloodline that makes him quite powerful if not for that he wouldnt want to take the risks that come with it and then lowkey gets excited again for saihara while still in ✨denial ✨

-> it’s been almost a year when saihara has enough energy (and more) to ensure that his new plan is successfully carried out and that ouma (and potentially 1 more..) gets back to the real world safely. he created this plan when he figured out how to exist in the real world- by sacrificing the thing he cares most about

-> so when ouma suddenly gets that off-feeling people get when they’re leaving the real world he feels very many emotions at once (giddily going ”ohh my god its not this it cant be this no way oh heck tthisis not happening not a chance”) until he sees the face he’s been waiting 4 months for again except this time it looks.. frighteningly cold

-> ouma’s instincts are screaming at him that something is very, very wrong here especially when he can’t hear any warmth when saihara says “Welcome back, Ouma. It’s your final time” and explains the whole ‘kill these monsters then kill me’ thing again

-> ouma’s confusion inevitably turns to annoyance as he kills the dudes (there appears to be a lot more than there was last time) and fires questions at saihara (‘is this saihara?’ ‘what happened to you??’ ‘do you even remember me?’) while saihara stays silent for the whole time thinking about how he really doesn’t want to be doing this.

-> eventually ouma decides he was wrong (again) to have put his faith in a guy- a demon- he only met once a month.. even if said demon gave him something to look forward to

-> when he finally gets to saihara alone he internally notes that saihara cant look him in the eye, but he finally speaks to tell ouma that now either himself or ouma will now die (saihara knows this is for sake of the sacrifice, but he can’t let ouma know else it won’t work)

-> ouma refuses to fight him again, expecting saihara to snap back into the meek demon from a year and some months ago, but rather than that happening saihara actually says something like “if you won’t kill me, I’ll have to kill you” and swings at him

-> even if ouma was on his full guard, he still would’ve been surprised by how strong saihara actually could be when he tried to fight- and of course saihara can’t stop now that he’s started but ouma hears the hesitation when saihara asks “are you going to kill me yet?” and gets annoyed that the whole time he spent with him and even akamatsu meant nothing. saihara smiles sadly knowing he’s achieving his goal but ouma thinks he’s smiling at the thought of dying and gets somehow even more annoyed

-> during their whole fight, insert “I’m alone, Ouma, and I will always be” line from saihara, “No amount of talking can convince me otherwise, Ouma. I’m sorry it took so long, but it was foolish of you to trust a demon you met only once” or something and yes it hurts saihara too but ouma’s staying silent and before saihara can continue, ouma fires back with “You’re right- you are meant to be alone. You were always meant to be that kind of guy” and stops dodging to start finally attacking- this is when saihara knows he’s pretty much achieved his target: sacrificing ouma’s trust in him

-> just as ouma swipes at him, saihara’s lil spell thing is activated that takes saihara back to the real world, disguised so people don’t see him as a demon. but now ouma thinks he’s just killed saihara (I just attacked him. and he is gone. i dont know what that light was but i must have just killed him. oh my god im a murderer.”)

-> saihara hiding in the forest to do the lil spell thing again but on ouma (all the time he spent saving on energy was worth it) so ouma gets transported to the real world too and immediately runs to tell akamatsu everything that happened

-> saihara trying to find to blend in with humans from what he remembers of how they act but he doesnt need to particularly eat he just needs a heck ton of sleep so he basically just lives in the forest now. he’s very sensitive to water so he actively stays away from it too (it wont kill him but it does make him sick). he’s still feverishly warm but not scalding and he also decides to work at a store to fit in more

-> ouma regretting what he did to saihara even though saihara hurt him first and realising he misses him

-> saihara ends up accidentally bumping into him at the store he works at that ouma conveniently steals from a lot (”Ouma, you’d make a good demon” “Nishishi! What do you mean? I’m a perfect little angel!”) and saihara gasping when he notices ouma’s unforgettable purple hair and cute smile.

-> ouma finding something familiar about this awkward new staff with the cute face and deciding he’ll visit the shop more often to see this stranger and not because said stranger might help him get over his demon crush

-> then they get to know eachother again for the 2nd time, and as much as this guy is really cute, he clearly knows more than he’s letting on... so of course ouma’s gotta now pay even more attention to him. just so he knows what the guy’s hiding. not cause he wants to know him.

-> one day saihara is sick from trying to protect himself from the rain (cause yk, water bad) so he stays in the forest instead of coming in to focus his energy on getting better and also not blowing his cover. ouma notices he isnt there on that day and asks other staff members where he lives and they’re all like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-> it rains quite a bit after that, inevitably making saihara even more sick and in turn needing time away to himself, so ouma starts getting worried when saihara stops coming to work

-> saihara really wants to see him though, so one day he tries to drag himself to work in a terrible state where he’s actually almost cold for once and collapses after trying to run to ouma. ouma sees him and tells his manager he cant work nd takes him home himself where saihara wakes up confused

-> ouma lecturing saihara because he worried him and the way he fell reminded him of.. someone (demon shuu).. then he asks vague questions to saihara about if he’s ever met a demon and half-confesses to having met one himself multiple times and ending up falling in love and then probably killing them

-> saihara, in his tired state, tells him his story of how he was raised to believe he had no purpose other than to meet someone who would kill him, eventually finding that person but instead of looking at him with fear or anger he looked at him with admiration and playfulness, how the guy meant to kill him refused to and flirted w him instead. ouma has probably clicked on by this point but saihara continues to tell him he wanted to protect that guy with the power he had so he took time away from his first ‘job’ to find out how to be with him. saihara is probably shaking at this point while he continues telling him about how he found out he had to sacrifice the most important thing to him, so he “went and had a terrible argument with him one day and i ran away. but i’ve never stopped looking for him since, he showed me that even a demon like me can fall in love” (there’s the ✨grand confession ✨)

-> ouma saw it coming from the moment saihara started speaking, but that didnt stop him from being utterly paralysed. of COURSE saihara has to say “When I said you’d make a good demon I really wasn’t lying. Your hand is so warm it could fool even me” which possibly makes ouma completely combust before absolutely bolting out the door and calling akamatsu to tell her to get to his house (”AKAMATSU-CHAN I’M GONNA DIE RIGHT NOW IF YOU DON’T GET HERE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT THIS SECOND”)

-> while waiting for kaede, shuuichi explains that he needs to be Warm™ and immediately holds kokichi’s hold again, while the other’s having a gay panic.. and he doesnt know how to feel because on one hand, his beloved demon is.. right here, in the ‘flesh’, holding his hand, telling him he fell in love with him.. but on the other hand, that doesnt excuse the confusion and hurt he put him through back then, not being able to see him for a whole damn year..

-> ouma ignores all the feelings when akamatsu arrives where she’s brought water and blankets (just in case- i feel like shes the kind of friend who would do that) so saihara takes the blankets and ouma takes the water and she calms them both down and gets them to explain everything slowly and in their own time. its awkward esp for ouma who isnt particularly close with her, but they manage it in the end

-> they decide shuuichi literally cant live in the forest so of course now he has to live with ouma but akamatsu offers to help if it ever gets too much for ouma which obviously ouma denies. she leaves soon and its just them but ouma needs some time to himself to clear his head and he only returns late to see saihara asleep clinging onto akamatsu’s blanket with his life lmao so ouma sighs and brings him more. and if he kisses the sleeping demon’s forehead, nobody has to know

-> ofc its still very much awkward and it takes ouma getting used to having even just another presence in his home, let alone his sort-of-unofficial-demon-bf and saihara’s still sleeping a lot of the time but recovering

-> they probably establish their feelings for eachother properly when they’re more mentally prepared for it, and then 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 (they kiss) and are now actually legally boyfriends. i absolutely cannot let this end in angst so they’re happy and love eachother now yay the end

nngl. i talked about this with that same friend and I lowkey want to start writing an actual fic for it now that ive written... literally the entire plot, but if i do that it probably wont be out for a while bc i take 10 years to write lmao-- plus i hardly ever finish what i start so uh yeah.. but hopefully! im not even good at writing fic this is just the plot but yello

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

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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.

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