#chickens will happily eat anything that can fit in their mouth and i love them for it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

untaemedqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 14.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Heart Tugging Yoongi, Crying, Emotional

A/N: This chapter is early because I’ll forget to post at 5 like an idiot :) shoutout to the squad @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna this chapter is goooood!

You have ascertained at this point that although Yoongi is incredibly fit -- he's never done heavy lifting in his life.

You watch him continuously mumbling to himself while carrying things over to the wooden porch, stopping himself whenever your father passes with something in his arms to show a tired smile.

It's kind of hilarious.

"Well! That's it!" you dad says, clapping his hands together happily. He stands on the porch, a smile etching onto his features as he looks at you.

Yoongi sighs happily beside Minho, feeling proud of himself that he's actually done something on his own for once.

"Will that be all, Sir?" Minho asks, his voice filled with amusement.

The CEO grimaces at him. "That'll be all. Be back here in two days with a new set of shoes for me and an Irish coffee."

Minho nods bowing to the both of you before climbing back into the car.

"Your mother is making bean paste in the back," your dad notifies you as he kicks off his sneakers.

You hum sweetly, walking up the steps to take off your own shoes.

Yoongi puts his hands on his hips, looking at the hanok with curious eyes.

"Here goes nothing," he mumbles, following after you.

"You didn't have to get us anything, you know," your father tells him. Helping him push all of the gifts into the house.

"It's my pleasure," Yoongi breathes out.

Your father turns to your boyfriend, holding up the Japanese whisky and winking at him. "It's a nice gesture though. I'll drink this well… by the end of the night." he whispers conspiratorially to him.

Yoongi finds himself smiling, chuckling to himself.

You're a lot like your father it seems. He likes that.

Stepping into the hanok, Yoongi feels like he's in a museum. Which, he can't help but kind of love. Everything seems so olden but perfectly taken care of.

"We do have a bathroom and beds, luckily for you." your dad jeers.

When you step inside, you feel so at home. Nothing has changed at all and it's so perfect.

"Wait for it," your dad tells your boyfriend, putting the gift baskets on the wooden table.

"MY GAESU!" you scream happily.

Yoongi jumps at your loud voice, eyes widening. He's never heard you screech so loudly.

A small corgi runs out to greet you, tongue sticking out with excited heavy breathing.

He watches you bend down, pulling the dog into your arms.

"Be careful," he admonishes you sweetly, watching you rock the dog in your arms.

Your father watches how concerned Yoongi is for you, how he presses his hand to the small of your back for support and he smirks at the sight.

"Whisky, Yoongi?"

"That'd be great, thank you Sir." he replies kindly, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Call me Dad," your father says with a wink.

The sentence sends Yoongi frozen. He's never heard such a gentle tone from a father figure before. He's only ever been used to tones of disappointment or anger.

"Alright," he whispers, grabbing the glass with a tentative hand.

You smile at the sight before you, Gaesu constantly licking your cheek to show how much he's missed you.

You know that Yoongi is going to love your parents, it'll just take a while to settle in.

"I heard the infamous scream," you hear from the back door.

Your heart warms at the sight of your mother.

"Mom," you whisper, taking in how happy she looks.

For the first time in a long time, she looks healthy.

"I missed you!" your mother whines, opening her arms to hug you.

"I missed you too!" you reply, hooking your chin over her shoulder.

The CEO can see how fond you are of your family. He hopes it'll be the same for this small family you're making of your own now.

"This is Min Yoongi, my boyfriend," you say, pulling away and nodding to the handsome man.

Your mother's smile seems to widen at the sight of him. "Oh, wow. You're so much more handsome in real life than on my t.v., as if that's possible." she breathes out, her cheeks starting to blush.

"It's nice to meet you," he laughs, bowing to her.

She bows back before sighing. "I'm a hugger!"

He hugs her awkwardly as she pats his back. You giggle at the warm sight before you, you know this must be so strange to him.

"You are the culprit that got my daughter pregnant?" your mother teases, sending him flinching.

He chuckles awkwardly, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "Guilty." he whispers.

"Well thank God, I thought I'd never have a grandchild," she says, slapping his shoulder.

"Okay, mom." you mumble, rolling your eyes at her dramatics.

"This baby is going to be cuter than a button!" she promises, pointing between the both of you.

Yoongi finds himself filling up with warmth, chuckling as your father rolls his eyes to him.

"Why don't you both get unpacked? And then we can start to make dinner," your mother suggests.

"Yoongi's never cooked before," you tell her, going to pick up your luggage.

The CEO groans gently as you all giggle. This is what family must be like. Joking and loving towards one another. He finds it akin to how him and Maya act sometimes.

"Don't even think about it," he tells you, watching you grip the handle.

"I can pick something up," you whisper as he narrows his eyes.

"So can I. Show me where the room is, little dove." he instructs, grabbing the luggage.

Rolling your eyes, you shrug to your parents as they give affectionate smiles.

"My room and the guest room?" you ask your mother, watching her hug your fathers side.

"Just your room. You're already pregnant, what else could happen?" she replies.

Yoongi's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he picks up your luggage. But, he's content with knowing that he can sleep with you for the next two nights.

He finds himself already fond of this wooden and paper house. And maybe even warming up to the people in it.

"Just through here," you tell the CEO, picking up Gaesu.

"I didn't know you have a dog," Yoongi says, stepping into your old bedroom.

"Leena's allergic so I left Gaesu home," you reply.

He hums understanding before yelping out as he looks around your room.

"What?!" you whine, putting your hand over your heart.

"THERE'S A CHICKEN ON THE BED!" he yells, dropping the luggage to the floor.

You can hear your dad laugh loudly from the kitchen and you snort loudly, stepping into the room and sliding the door shut.

The chicken takes one look at Gaesu before jumping off the bed and scurrying around the room.

Yoongi gasps loudly, jumping onto the bed with fright written all over his face.

"Catch it!" he cries out, shoving his hands in his hair.

"Relax, it's just Miguk." you say with a laugh.

"Why is there a fucking chicken in your bedroom?!" your boyfriend whines.

"Because we keep chickens for eggs? And Miguk probably wanted to be some place warm?" you ask confused, setting down your dog and opening up the bedroom door for Gaesu to chase Miguk out.

"So you don't have a heat lamp or some… warm place for a chicken to stay? Do I have to buy one for you?!" he asks, smacking the bed to get rid of a few feathers.

"It's just a chicken, you'll be eating one in like two hours," you say laughing loudly as the animals finally leave your room.

"It's disgusting. I need to change the sheets," he whispers, clearly grossed out.

"You know the walls are paper and wood?" you mouth to him, shutting the door.

"I shouldn't have to scream about a fucking chicken laying in the bed I'm sleeping in tonight," he mouths back, flailing his arms.

"Everything okay?" your mother sings from the kitchen.

"Yes!" you both reply at the same time.

The CEO finds it hard to not stare at where the chicken was standing just seconds ago.

"Come on, Yoongi. It's okay," you say, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"I don't think you understand that I'm fucking traumatized," he whispers fiercely, watching as a shadow of a chicken walks by the paper door.

"Do you need me to hold you?" you ask, sounding as if you're speaking to a small child.

He grimaces at you, folding his arms.

"No! I just don't understand how this is normal behavior," he retorts softly.

"Welcome to my home," you whisper, booping him on the nose.

He swats at your hand childishly, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

"I like your parents," he mumbles softly as you place both of the luggages on the bed.

"See, I told you. They're nice," you reply happily.

"You need to promise me that I won't wake up in the middle of the night to a chicken trying to poke my eye out with their beak. Do your parents feed them properly? Are they on a mission to assault guests?" he whispers fiercely, grabbing your hands.

"You're an insane person. You're actually fucking crazy," you whisper back, kissing the top of his head.

"What's crazy is that there was a fucking chicken in your childhood bed," he says appalled, appreciating the warmth of your lips on his skin.

"If I'm not worried about it, you shouldn't be worried about it," you say with a smile, grabbing your change of sweatpants.

"That's what they said about Pompeii and a fucking volcano erupted!" he barks out in a fierce whisper.

You find yourself giggling, combing your fingers through his hair. Almost immediately he feels himself relaxing.

After washing up and putting on comfortable clothes as well as insisting to your boyfriend a multitude of times that no farm animals would kill him in his sleep, you were ready for dinner.

Or, ready to make dinner anyway.

When Yoongi was younger, he used to watch Maya cook for him. His parents were never really home, it was just him, Maya and her daughter Myeyoung.

He has no real skills besides making money and playing poker.

Stepping back out into the hallway, he's surprised to witness such paternal affection.

Even from the short distance he can see how much love your father has for your mother as he cuts up an apple for her.

Would he ever get this? Would you be like this to him?

"My Gaesu-ah!" you call sweetly, slamming the paper door shut.

Yoongi takes this in also, how affectionate you are to an animal.

His father had hunting dogs that slept in cages outside of their home in hopes that they would feel less attached to humans.

There was once a time where his father bought him an expensive bird for hunting. He ordered Yoongi to train it. Being only six years old and without love, the CEO named the bird and praised it whenever it did well with orders.

He remembers showing his father, so excited that the bird did his bidding. But, Min Sangcheol was angry when he saw the bird catering to Yoongi's every whim.

"You made this bird adore you, that's why it does what you ask of it, you've ruined the fucking animal."

And his father broke both of the bird's legs.

"Yoongi?" you whisper softly, watching how entranced he is with your dog.

Looking up quickly, he gives you a sad smile and your heart tugs with uncertainty.

"Are you okay?" you ask, earning a gentle squeeze on your side from him.

"Come on," he whispers, pushing some hair back behind your ear.

Hearing your footsteps, your parents smile at the both of you.

"Yoongi, you didn't have to buy us such things!" your mother chides him, gently smacking his arm as she holds her new Chanel purse to her chest.

"I wanted too, it looks made just for you," he compliments, rubbing his hands together awkwardly.

In all actuality, it looks just perfect for her. With a gentle giggle, you can tell how absolutely smitten your mother is with him already.

"The tie you got me is perfect, I'll just have nowhere to wear it," your dad jeers to the CEO.

Yoongi chuckles, picking up his forgotten whisky glass and taking a sip out of eyesight from your parents.

"Very good manners," your mother whispers to you.

Humming, you can only agree. "He took etiquette classes when he was younger." you inform them.

"You should show Y/N's father a thing or two about etiquette."

Your father rolls his eyes, grabbing a wicker basket from near the sink.

"To the chickens, my love," you dad says, shooing you out the back of the house.

"Do you like dak galbi?" your mother asks, putting the gift baskets in the living room.

Yoongi watches you leave, his blanket of comfort gone from his sight. His left hand wraps around his right arm, feeling his usual comfort drift away. "Yes, Ma'am."

He feels awkward. He looks awkward as he stands beside the kitchen counter, watching as your mother begins to prepare ingredients.

The older woman can see how forlorn he looks, how completely out of his element he is and she can understand why you care for him like you do. He's broken.

"Come," she says, pointing to the seat across the counter.

He gives her a nervous smirk, sitting down in the seat she was just in.

"Have you ever peeled a potato?" she inquires softly.

With a small smile, he shakes his head. Black pieces of hair fall into his eyes and he goes frozen as your mother pushes them back just like you do.

"Well you're going to peel potatoes today," she tells him with a smile.

When she smiles, her face contorts quite like yours. And, suddenly he feels okay even for a little while.

Setting a bowl full of potatoes down in front of him, she hands him a peeler.

"We'll make you a chef yet, Min Yoongi," she winks.

Chuckling at her words, he begins to peel. It's clumsy and he loses the potato a few times from how wet it is, but he gets the hang of it after a few minutes.

"One time, when Y/N was younger she went on a potato ban. No french fries, no potato pancakes, no potato chips," your mother laughs at the memory, earning soft eyes from your boyfriend, "she was so adamant that she hated them for a good week or two. Then one night, I woke up in the middle of the night to crying. I went to check on her and she woke up telling me that she missed potatoes so much that it gave her nightmares."

Yoongi laughs along with your mother, shaking his head.

"I hope our baby comes out like her," he whispers hopefully.

In that moment, he realized just how comfortable he had gotten so quickly. It's easy to open up when you're welcomed. His instant reaction is to close himself off again but your mother catches it before he does. Not even giving him a chance to close himself off.

"You have a lot of good traits, Yoongi," your mother praises, beginning to cut peppers.

He hums unsurely, focusing on the task at hand.

"She's going to be a great parent, I'm not sure if I will be," he replies softly, he's so quiet if your mother wasn't paying attention she wouldn't have heard him.

"Why do you think that?" your mother asks and his eyes shoot straight up to hers.

In her eyes is softness and kindness that he sees in you on the daily.

In his eyes is worry and unsureness and your mother croons softly, petting his head maternally to give him some comfort.

He freezes at her gentleness but it reminds him so much of Maya that he feels his heart warm.

"Well my parents weren't very warm with me so I'm very cold with everything I do. Y/N isn't like that. She's understanding and always kind. She has patience and I lack that in spades." he whispers, washing some dirt off a potato.

Your mother hums. "Were your parents mean to you?"

He clears his throat, grabbing the whisky glass and turning away from her as he takes a huge gulp. "Yes Ma'am," he replies through gritted teeth, the alcohol warming his pallet.

"Well, let me tell you something about parents," she whispers across the counter, situating herself on her elbows, "some people aren't meant to be parents. They didn't have that affection when they were young and they don't know how to offer any to children as they get older and need to be cared for. My parents really shouldn't have had me, my father was cruel and my mother was obsessed with soju. I was a very mean, bitter child but as I grew up -- I came to realize that cycles must be broken in order for people to grow. Sure, I could have stayed mean and angry but that just leaves your heart black and broken. It's up to whomever feels this way to try and strive for a new path."

Yoongi takes in all her words, staring at her as she stares back.

Such wisdom. It's heartwarming and jarring.

"I see," he murmurs.

"Now, you're going to be a father. You should break that cycle, hmm?" she asks, picking her knife back up.

He nods thoughtfully. Just the way your mother speaks, it seems like she's lived a thousand lives. It feels as if she knows a part of his soul he couldn't begin to understand.

"You don't know how to be a father. Y/N doesn't know how to be a mother but you'll make that work. Because in actuality, you both care. You both want what's best for your child and you, sooner or later, will understand that they're the most important thing in your life. Not bitterness or hatred. Some people don't see that, but you will Yoongi." she says, throwing the peppers into a bowl.

"H-How do you know?" he stutters, gripping the potato in hand tighter.

"Because I see how you look at Y/N when she isn't looking at you. Like she makes the sun rise in the morning because she's willed it to be so." she says offhandedly, grabbing some green onions.

He whistles long and low at her wiseness, letting the potato fall from his hand to grab his whisky glass.

"I'm very grateful for how you raised her, she's wonderful. So thoughtful and caring… So completely different than anyone I've ever known before. She…" he finds himself saying, just letting his emotions fly out.

"She's bringing you inner peace and happiness." your mother says, looking up from the cutting board.

"Yes." he breathes out.

"And that's scary." she comments, wiping her hands on her apron.

Swallowing thickly, Yoongi turns to the open back door. Watching you gather eggs with your father. He can see your smile from so far away and his throat tightens at the sight.

"Y-Yes," he mutters.

"Y'know. The best thing about being frightened is knowing how at ease your heart will be when that's over." he turns back to your mother as she rounds the counter.

When she goes to hug him, he doesn't flinch this time.

"Your parents may have been mean to you, Min Yoongi. But, that doesn't define you. It shouldn't define you. If you need maternal affection, you can turn to me. I'm plenty of a mother for you and Y/N," she puts her hand over her heart, smiling down at him. He can feel his eyes beginning to burn and he apologizes as he bows his head.

"You don't need to be alone Yoongi, we're a family here and you're very welcome in ours," your mom whispers, cupping his face to raise it.

"Oh fuck," he cries gently, putting a shaky hand to his eyes.

He's never heard such earnest words like this from a parent and it brings him such relief that it makes his body wrack with sobs.

"All you've ever wanted was to be loved and be happy, I'm sure. We can do that for you, if you want that," she whispers, hugging him tightly.

His mouth opens, a small strangled groan leaving his lips as he cries louder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Clicking her teeth, your mother rubs his back. "You never have to apologize for being emotional."

"Everyone can pretend to be strong, Yoongi. It takes a real person to admit how emotional and hurt they are."

Biting his bottom lip to quiet his sobs, he buries his face into your mother's arm as she holds him tightly.

He's never been held like this. Maya never held him like this because she worked for him. She's never spoken so straight with him before. She's loved him and he knows that, that's why he loves her too.

But she's never seen into his soul like this. She's never sat him down and spoke the words he needed to hear, even if it made him break down. But, your mother has.

Your mother has given him something that he's never had. And, he wants it more as he holds her.

He wants that maternal affection.

He wants to be a part of your family.

He wants to be loved.

He wants to be cared for.

And it hits him like a truck when he thinks of you.

You can give him all of these things. You can make him into the one person he never thought would see the light of day. He never thought he could even be that type of person.

But from a distance, he can hear you laughing with your father and he cries harder.

He wants it with you.

He wants you to care for him.

He wants you to love him.

He wants you to be his family.

"Oh my God," he whispers, pulling away from your mother and wiping his face on his t-shirt.

"You will call me Mom from now on," she says, booping his nose.

With a small smile, he nods. He turns to the open paper door once more, watching as you smile and laugh with your father.

He wants this family with you.

"So," your father says, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"So!" you reply with a laugh, hugging him tightly.

Nearing the chicken coop, you can hear clucks of excitement as the chickens wait for their food.

Stepping out of the way, you let your father feed the chickens seeing as how you haven't done it in so long. It's for expediency.

"I like him," your father approves.

You smile gently, gathering egg after egg and placing them in the basket.

"He's a little rough around the edges but he's a good man." you insist.

Your father wipes his hands on his pants, getting rid of the small flecks of feed that linger on his palms. "You know, he looks at you like you're the most important thing in his life."

Snorting gently, you lean against the chicken coop. Your gaze fixes on the sky watching as pastel shades bleed into one another. But, you focus on the orange that mixes with a hazy salmon.

"His problem is -- he doesn't know what's most important in his life. He doesn't know how to live normally. He doesn't know regular emotions and that scares him," you announce, tracing a cloud absentmindedly.

Your father leans against the chicken coop with you, tracing your gaze to the sky.

"I see. He's never had a family, has he?" your father prods.

You shake your head, looking down at the basket in hand. "No. He's only ever had himself and heartache." you affirm.

The older man hums, looking at the dirt beneath his feet. "We should give him a family then," he surmises.

With a gentle scoff, you feel your eyes beginning to burn with raw emotion. "He deserves it. He doesn't even know what he deserves."

"Well, you do, kiddo. You know." your father insists, nudging you with his elbow.

Humming, your arms fold like a comfort blanket around yourself.

You want Yoongi to be so at peace. To love and know his surroundings. To at least understand what he feels day to day.

"Come on, your mother must be putting him through hell," your dad jeers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You laugh, wiping at a stray tear that's had the chance to fall.

You want him to be your family.

Stepping back inside, you can see his gummy smile while he talks with your mother and your heart soars at the sight.

"Here, Mom." he whispers, handing her the bowl of potatoes.

The word he utters, sends you spiralling.

"If she's Mom, then I want to be Dad. You promised!" your father quips, setting the baskets of eggs by the stove.

Yoongi turns to you both in the doorway, black pieces of hair in his eyes as he chuckles.

"Yes, Dad."

Your father hums happily, the smile lines by his eyes wrinkling.

You watch the sight before you, your throat constricting and your nasal passages burning.

Yoongi is happy.

"Excuse me," you gasp, taking off to your childhood bedroom.

"Y-Y/N?" Yoongi calls you, watching you rush off down the hall.

He stands up, bowing to your parents. "Pardon me."

He rushes off to find you, wiping his wet hands on his sweatpants.

"Little dove?" he calls gently, opening the paper door.

Sitting cross legged on your bed, you hold a tissue to your face.

"What did I do wrong?" he asks quickly, shutting the door for privacy.

He's done nothing wrong. It's a shame he always thinks it as such. You were just so astounded, so fucking happy that he could speak so warmly and freely. It took over your whole body.

"Are you upset with me?" he inquires, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

You shake your head violently, sobbing into the tissue.

"Then what is it?" his voice is soft and unsure.

Pulling the tissue away from your face, you take in the worry lines that are etched onto his forehead.

With a whine, you wrap your arms around his neck tugging him into a hug.

Yoongi croons softly, rubbing at your back with comforting swipes.

"Is it the baby? Are you in pain?" he whispers into your ear, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

"No," you breathe out, hugging him tightly.

"Alright." he whispers perplexed.

"I'm happy," you insist, burying your face into his neck.

He feels his heart slow down from the racing pace it was just at. His eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into his lap.

"Me too," he replies truthfully.

Holding each other so closely, your heart beats seem to meld as one. You sit in comfortable silence, your sobs stifling and quieting down to nothing.

"You just looked so h-happy that I…" you croak, balling his shirt in your fists.

The corners of his lips flick upward, his eyes opening to look down at your body in his lap. With soft eyes, he presses his lips to your temple.

"Min Yoongi, I'm going to cut this chicken without you!" your mother calls out.

You feel his body shake with a laugh. "One minute, Mom!"

Your lips press into a straight line, tears threatening to fall again.

"You're happy that your family is welcoming me?" he asks, pulling you away to cup your face with both hands.

You whine gently, nodding while his thumbs stroke at your cheeks.

"I'm happy they're welcoming me too. It feels warm." he whispers, shushing you as you let out a small sob.

"You'll let your family be my family, right?" he asks hopefully.

"Always," you whimper.

He smiles softly, his eyes taking in every curve and inch on your face.

"You'll be my family?" he inquires nervously.

"Yeah, I'll be your family." you cry happily.

He looks up at the ceiling, trying to ebb away tears that threaten to come.

"Good. I'd really like that," he replies gratefully.

Pulling your face closer to his, he kisses you softly, both of your eyes fluttering shut.

When you pull apart, his forehead presses to yours.

"I have to go cut a chicken," your boyfriend mumbles, earning a gentle laugh from you.

"Go cut a chicken," you whisper, sliding off his lap.

"I'm really happy with you," he says earnestly, pushing some hair behind your ear.

"Me too." you reply, watching how he smiles so brightly.

Holding his hand out, he dries your face with the hem of his shirt. "Come on, let's make dinner."

To watch Yoongi laugh and talk to your parents as if he's always known them makes you feel fuller than any of the food on your plate could provide.

"Y/N saved me in History class one time," Yoongi announces to your parents, picking up his glass of whisky.

They hum inquisitively and you lean back against the wall as he chuckles.

"I did really terribly on a quiz that I didn't study for. And, the teacher was embarrassing me. But Y/N told me when the Mongols invaded Goryeo."

"1216." you state, earning a smile from your boyfriend.

He holds up his fingers and you stare at them.

You do remember it.

You remember how embarrassed he looked as a child. You felt the overwhelming urge to help him.

"I remember," you whisper.

He chuckles gently with a hum. "Anyway, she saved my bacon."

Your mother watches you both as you continue to stare at each other over the table. This is good. This is healthy.

"Yoongi, do you play any card games?" your dad asks, setting his chopsticks down on his empty plate.

The smirk that graces his features is devious and you giggle.

"I play poker," he quips, watching as you set down your chopsticks.

"Every Thursday," you add.

Clicking his teeth, he puts a piece of chicken over your unfinished rice. "Eat more for the baby," he insists.

He sounds so sincere you find yourself picking up your spoon.

"Would you like to play poker, later?" your dad inquires.

Yoongi nods, his hand under his chin as he watches you eat. "That'd be great, Dad."

"So how far along is my grandchild now then?" your mother asks, cleaning up the empty plates.

Your boyfriend immediately begins to help her, something he's never done in his life. "Sesame is almost ten weeks old now." he replies and you sit back on your hands to watch him help her.

"Sesame is a cute fetus name, I like that very much."

You can feel the sheer adoration beginning to drip from your mother for your boyfriend. When you first entered his mansion, you had absolutely no idea that it would lead you here. You couldn't have even guessed that he would be becoming a part of your family.

"I have some pictures if you want to see them, I can get a few more copies made to send to you the next time we go to the doctors." he suggests to her as they enter the kitchen.

"I'd love that," she cheers happily.

"I really like this guy," your father whispers conspiratorially to you, picking up your plate and bowl.

You find your nose wrinkling in delight.

"Me too," you mumble, watching your boyfriend's black hair fall into his eyes as he chuckles.

"I really like him too," you mutter to yourself, resting your head against the wall.

"Something tells me that this is your first relationship," your father says, shuffling the deck of cards.

Yoongi looks up from his whisky glass, a small smirk gracing his features. "That obvious, huh?"

The older man laughs, setting the cards down in between both of their bodies. "Just a little bit," he quips.

The CEO chuckles to himself, looking around the barren land of your backyard.

It isn't quite a farm and it isn't quite a relaxing place either. But, he finds it quaint. It's the company that's more so relaxing.

"Everything with Y/N is a first for me," your boyfriend admits, dealing the cards.

"Oh?" your father pushes, picking up his glass of whisky.

Yoongi hums softly, almost unsurely. "Emotions. Caring. Being concerned. Happiness. Actually wanting to be happy. It's all new." he breathes out, looking up at the star flecked sky.

Your father smirks over the lip of his glass, his smile lines appearing.

"It's hard to break out of a shell, isn't it?" the older man asks.

Answering the question, Yoongi nods.

"It'll be worth it though, won't it?"

"Oh yes, it will be. That's the thing about finding someone you want to care for. You find that everything you're feeling, whether it's new or not, is very worth it." your father replies, throwing a few peanuts into the bowl, in the place of poker chips.

Yoongi does the same, his cheeks puffing out as he thinks.

"Y/N's worth it," he surmises, picking up his whisky glass.

The older man smiles, raising his glass to the CEO. "I'm glad you think so too."

Their warm talk is cut off by the sound of a chainsaw a far bit of distance away. Your father huffs out, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

"Old man Im is at it again. Y'know, I can't stand that old prick," he gripes, laying his cards down on the small garden table.

"Old man Im?" Yoongi inquires, squinting at the house lights in the far off distance.

"I've been offering to buy that man's land for years now, it's lush and my wife would be able to plant flowers in it but he always asks for such a high price that it's nearly impossible! He wants to sell the land! He just won't give it to me because Y/N threw a rock through his window when she was a little girl," he proclaims, grabbing the peanuts and munching on them.

Yoongi watches how irritated his new family member is and he's immediately annoyed as well.

"How much is he asking for?" The CEO inquires, folding his arms.

"Five million," your father mumbles, grabbing the stack of cards to shuffle them again.

That's pocket change.

"Old man Im, huh?" Yoongi mumbles, watching the house lights shut off.

Yoongi knows you've been in bed for some time when he enters the shared room. The sheets are ruffled due to your constant turning and your hair is splayed all over your pillow.

He finds himself smirking at the sight, stripping off his shirt to climb into bed with you.

Sliding beneath the sheets, he shivers at how cold his side of the bed is. But he's immediately warm as you throw your body over his.

"Did you have fun?" you mumble somnolently, putting your head on his bare chest.

He snorts gently, smiling up at the ceiling. His eyes flutter shut at the comfort of your body on his. Stroking your head gently, he breathes deeply letting the pleasantness of today wash over him.

"I had more fun today than I probably have ever had in my life," he answers you truthfully.

Your fingers drift over his abs and it's instinctual that he flinches. "Sorry, still working on it."

He still finds it surprising how easy it is to apologize to you when he has never said he's sorry to anyone in his life.

You shake your head, kissing over his skin softly. The shock drifts away, leaving Yoongi to only be comforted by your lips.

"Why do you have so many small tattoos?" you inquire, dragging your fingers over the colorful ink.

Looking down, his tongue runs over his lips feeling as if they're drying out. "Each one is a memory I don't want to forget."

"A memory?" you repeat, picking up your head to look him in the eyes.

"A memory of every cigarette burn that wasn't my fault," he croaks, clearing his throat as he caresses the apple of your cheek.

Your blood runs cold at his strangled voice.

"Like this one, the one of the hummingbird. I put up a bird feeder on my balcony in the winter so they wouldn't starve. And, my father told me that I have no brain. 'Why would you invite those rats with wings into the sanctuary near your bedroom? Are you Mother Theresa, huh? You're making them weak for not finding their own food.' I remember it all the time." your boyfriend says, staring at the paper door as he recites the old memory.

Your teeth grit, eyes narrowing as you cover the tattoo with your hand.

"I hate him," you whisper fiercely, putting your head back on his chest.

"Get in line, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, closing his eyes with a smirk.

There are so many small tattoos that litter his chest, and your throat constricts just looking at them in the moonlit room.

Yoongi looks down at your hand that covers a selection of scars. "Interested in any others?"

He doesn't mind sharing his past with you. In fact, no one knows about these stories he would so quickly give up to you. Not Maya or Namjoon. No one.

"It'll just make me angry," you mumble, turning your head to look up at him.

He chuckles, running his hand over your arm to your stomach. "Well, we don't want that. Anger is poison for Sesame. I should know, I've been poisoned twenty eight years of my life." he sighs.

You scoff gently, moving to lay fully over his body.

"Watch the baby," he grumbles, running his hands over your back as he looks back up at the ceiling.

There's silence for a bit. You just stare at him. Staring at the handsome broken man that's never known happiness.

"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my face," he jeers, squeezing your side gently.

"I really like you," you tell him, sitting up.

He peeks one eye open, the corners of his mouth flickering up with a snort.

"I like you too, baby. That's why I want you to be my family." he replies softly, stroking your thighs with his large hands.

You hum assertively, putting your hands on your hips. "You are my family."

He chuckles, kissing his fingers then mushing them into your lips. "My family member without my blood, housing my family with my blood. My goodness. How much luckier can I get?"

With a smile, you tilt your head as he clears his throat. "Thank you for bringing me here, little dove." he thanks you, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it softly.

"What'd you talk about with my dad?" you inquire, laying down beside him.

Turning his body to yours, he pulls your back against his chest, situating his hand on your stomach.

"Just this and that. I'm probably going to buy a farm tomorrow," he murmurs sleepily.

"A farm? What for?" you ask, running your fingers over his arm.

"I hear that a farm around here has great land for planting. And, I want my family to be able to plant." he whispers, burying his face in your hair.

You go to lift your head in confusion but he shushes you softly.

"Sleep now, little dove. Sesame is tired, just like their father."

The words warm your heart and you smile to yourself, tracing random shapes over his skin.

It's easy for you to wake up in your old bed to the sound of roosters crowing good morning. It's not so easy for the father of your child.

Folding the pillow over his ears, he kicks his legs childishly.

"I hate chickens!" he whines loudly, stamping his feet on the bed.

"That's a rooster," you correct him, stretching as you stand up.

"Smart ass!" he barks out, flipping his body over.

Smothering his face in the pillow, he groans loudly.

"Guess he's not a morning person," your mother calls from the kitchen and the CEO's head immediately pops up.

"Yes, I am!" he retorts softly, his eyebrows furring.

"Mhm," you droll, combing your fingers through your hair.

Sitting up in bed, his joints pop and crack loudly to which he groans.

"The air here is so fresh," you exclaim, opening up the bathroom window.

"Why are you so chipper? We went to bed late," Yoongi inquired with a grumble, standing up out of the bed to crack his knees.

"Because I'm with my family," you reply, turning on the sink.

The CEO turns to the mirror, tilting his head as his hair falls into his eyes.

You're with your family. And that includes him.

He finds himself smiling to himself, grabbing a t-shirt from his luggage.

"Family," he whispers, running his fingers through his hair.

The simple word has so much more meaning than two days ago.

"Did you bring another set of comfortable clothes?" you ask him, peeking out of the bathroom.

"Why?" he inquires, showing you a pair of expensive sweatpants.

"Because it's six o'clock in the morning and we don't get up that early to just stare at each other," you quip with a laugh.

His hand falls, clutching the sweatpants with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Have you ever done manual labor?" your father inquires to the CEO, watching him sip his coffee.

Yoongi looks up from his Irish coffee, internally groaning at the question.

"No. I'm a CEO," he retorts, setting down the cup.

Your hand slides over your mouth as you begin to smirk.

"Well, my knees aren't what they used to be. You'll help me gather some apples from the trees out back, won't you?" your dad asks, a kind smile gracing his face.

Pressing his lips into a straight line, your boyfriend sighs. "Of course, Dad."

"Good boy," your mother praises, petting his head sweetly.

He smirks at how affectionate she is.

"And what're you going to do while I'm hard at work?" Yoongi inquires of you, watching you kiss the top of Gaesu's head.

"Probably help my mom cook lunch," you reply.

Yoongi immediately begins to smile, "I love when you cook."

With a giggle, you wrinkle your nose at his cuteness. "I know you do."

"Alright Mr. Never-Did-Manual-Labor. Let's go pick some apples!" your dad cheers, patting your boyfriend on the back.

Yoongi is grateful that you insisted on comfortable clothes. He would have never pictured himself climbing a ladder a day in his life, but here he is. Climbing towards the heavens to just reach for a few apples to fill up a basket.

"I was thinking about something last night," your father states, holding the ladder still as the CEO continues his journey upward.

"Oh?" your boyfriend replies, sitting down at the top of the ladder.

"Why'd you get married to that woman, if you don't like her?" your father prods.

Yoongi's eyes widen, staring at the canopy of leaves not so high above him. Oh, if the ground would only open up and swallow both him and the ladder whole.

His hand shakes as he reaches for a ripe apple, his Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably.

To be truthful, even though he's only been here a day, he'd forgotten that he's married. He's forgotten that he lives with a despicable woman who ruined him.

"Because my parents made me," he announces, almost falling off the ladder due to nerves.

Your father holds the ladder tighter, watching how nervous the younger man's back is. He can see it tensing and shaking like he's frightened.

"They can just make you get married?" your father asks, clearly appalled.

Yoongi turns to him, dropping an apple to him with a smirk. "Rich parents can make you do anything in the world."

Your father hums softly, his eyebrows furring while he catches the apple.

"Is she mean to my daughter? Should I be worried?"

Yoongi finds his teeth gritting. The simple idea of your father being so worried about you in a house with that leech makes him wrought with anger.

Folding his body over the top of the ladder, he narrows his eyes at your father. "Dad, nothing will ever happen to Y/N and our baby. I would die before that bitch has a chance to hurt them or be mean to them. There is nothing for you to worry about, because I would never let that happen."

Your father's eyes widen at how angry your boyfriend has gotten at the drop of a hat. But, he knows just how serious he is. And he finds his body filling with warmth at how protective the father of your child is towards you.

He hums gently, nodding to Yoongi letting him know he understands. "Why don't you just divorce her?"

The CEO's arm stops as he reaches for another apple.

Why doesn't he just fucking divorce her? Who is she to him? No one.

And then he remembers. And he sees red once more.

"My head maid Maya. She had a daughter named Myeyoung. Sera made her move out when we got married because she was beautiful. I never thought so, she always felt like a sister to me. She was always around so she was just a comfortable person to me. When she moved out, I helped her get a job where she could make enough money and live a good life. She opened up her own art gallery. But I learned what a snake that woman is, that damned woman who loves in my house. If I ever divorced her -- Sera swore she would ruin her life and make Myeyoung suffer if I ever took her money away from her." Yoongi fumes, running his fingers through his hair.

Your father shivers at his words, completely appalled with how bitter and evil this woman sounds.

"I see," he whispers softly.

Yoongi can feel anger coursing through every part of his body as he hangs onto the top of the ladder.

He hadn't thought about it in so long, he hasn't wanted to think about how absolutely vile Sera is. But, she's always brought up and always around to make him miserable.

He takes a deep calming breath.

"Maya has always been like my mother when I didn't really have one. I couldn't just let Myeyoung get fed to the wolves. She's too sweet for that." he announces, grabbing an apple and ripping it from its stem.

"You're a good man, son." your father praises, catching the apple as it falls.

Yoongi chuckles darkly, his tongue licking at his lips. "I'll be a better man when the leech is out of my life."

"Where are we going?" you whine, following your boyfriend as he tugs on your hand.

"I'm going to buy a farm." he replies happily, wading through thickets of bushes.

"This is Old Man Im's farm! He hates me!" you insist, feeling old emotions of terror from when you were a child.

Yoongi stops in his tracks, turning to you.

The sun is setting now, the pretty colors of the sky highlighting your features.

How he adores you.

Lifting his hand, he cups your cheek.

"You know, I'm feeling an emotion that I've never experienced before." he states, stepping closer to you.

With both of your bodies shrouded in the large thicket, it's only you and him.

"What are you feeling?" you ask, concerned and wanting to help.

He hums unsurely, wrapping his free arm around you. Pulling you up against his body, he pushes some stray hairs behind your ear.

"Whenever I look at you, little dove, my heart races like a horse on Sunday. I feel weak and needy when I'm with you. I just want to hold you without the need for food or water. I just want to stare at you every minute of every day. I just want to… keep you. Forever." he admits.

Your cheeks puff out, heart warmed by his kind words.

"Maybe what you're feeling is infatuation? Or maybe you're feeling comfort?" you ask, adoring how his arms wrap around you, tugging you to his body.

"No I'm not infatuated with you, I'm infatuated with art. My heart -- it bleeds for you." he says, putting his hand on the back of your head to bury your face into his chest.

"Well, we'll figure it out together then," you reply.

"I'd like that." he whispers.

He knows what emotion this is, even if he's never experienced.

He's falling in love with you.

Next Chapter ------->

Third Wheeling Taglist - @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @jooniebuggy, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie, @preciouschimine, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii, @kooafraid, @ladykadyrova, @singjisu, @yazanii, @moonlitmyg, @justzeera, @absolutefantrash, @whocaresarchives, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx, @bt21chim, @flowerboyhobi, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

#third wheeling #btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #ceo!yoongi #ceo!bts #yoongi fluff #yoongi series

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rowyn-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Under the Weather (Jack Kline)

Warnings: Fluff, self doubt, sickness

Pairings: Jack x Reader, Dean x Reader (Platonically) Sam x Reader (Platonically)

Characters: Sam, Dean, Jack, Cas (mentioned)

Word Count: 1678

Summary: When you get sick, Jack's there to take care of you.

It was freezing outside. The first snowfall had made it's way through Kansas, and you were excited to enjoy the beautiful scenery. Ever since you were a kid, you loved playing in the snow.

You should have listened to Sam and Dean when they told you not to stay out there too long.

It just started with sneezing, which was normal for you since you had allergies, so you thought nothing of it.

"Achoo!" You sneezed once more. "Ugh. I think I'm getting sick."

Dean gave you one of his, 'I told you so,' faces. "What did we tell you about staying out there so long?"

"Yeah, yeah." You dismissed him. "Jeez, Winchester. You sound like my dad."

Dean, Sam and Cas might as well been your dad's, in all honesty. They had found you when you were thirteen. Your parents had been killed by a group of vampires, and you had been taken hostage. The Winchester's had found you, scared and confused.

They told you everything about vampires, werewolves, demons and everything that went bump in the night. You had nowhere to go, as your parents were your only family, so Sam and Dean took you in.

You stayed with Bobby most of the time, where he taught you what you needed to know about monsters and hunting. And when Bobby died, you were crushed. You didn't know how to cope with the loss, so you threw yourself into hunting, becoming one of the best hunters around.

You attempted to clear your throat, fighting off the urge to cough. Dean rolled his eyes. "I'll go get some cough syrup."

Jack entered the den, taking a seat on the couch next to you. "Are you okay, Y/n?" He asked.

"I'm fine, just feeling a little under the weather, is all." You assured him.

"But how can you be under the weather? You're inside." Jack seemed confused.

You giggled at his cluelessness. "No, Jack, I meant that I don't feel well today. I'm coming down with a cold. I'm sick."

"Oh." He furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm still learning the correct meaning of what humans say."

"You and Cas both. He's been down here for years and still doesn't understand a lot of sayings." You felt your body rumble with another cough.

"Y/n!" Jack said worriedly. "Are you okay?! Do you need me to get Dean?"

"No, no, Jack, I'm okay. It's just a cough. Besides, Dean's getting me some medicine to stop it. Don't worry."

Not even a few seconds later, the oldest Winchester walked in and tossed you a bottle of cough syrup. "Drink up, kiddo."

You gave a disgusted look as you drank the bitter liquid. "Yuck."

"It's your own fault, Y/n. Sam and I told you not to stay outside too long." Dean reprimanded you. You dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

"Yeah, but it was worth it, right, Jack?" You asked, looking over at the Nephilim.

"It was!" Jack agreed. "Y/n and I made a snowman and built a fort!" Dean cracked a smile as he looked at you and Jack.

You felt your eyes begin to droop closed, feeling exhaustion overcome you. Neither Dean nor Jack bothered to wake you up, as you looked so tired.

Dean sighed as he looked at his phone. "Alright, I got a case to go work. Jody and Donna need help with what looks like a skinwalker. Watch over Y/n while she sleeps. Get her anything she needs. I would move her to her room, but I don't want to wake her. And if she wakes up and tries to join me and Sam, stop her. She's way too sick to gank some monsters." He gently kissed you on the head before saying goodbye to Jack.

As Dean watched you grow up, you had become a sort of little sister/daughter to him. Along with Sam, he always put you first. Although, Dean secretly wished you weren't a Hunter and went to college, like other people your age.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" Jack asked, making you jump.

"Jesus Jack! You scared me." You pressed a hand to your chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized.

"It's fine, I just thought I was alone. Where's Dean?"

"He's out with Sam on a case. Something about a skinwalker?" You threw the blanket off your body and began walking to your room. "Where are you going?" Jack asked, following you.

"To help Sam and Dean."

Dean's words floated in the back of Jack's mind. "Wait, Y/n. You can't go, you're sick."

You dismissed him, not listening to his words as you slipped on your shoes. "They need my help, Jack. We never go hunting without each other."

You stood up too quickly, becoming lightheaded. You stumbled slightly, but thankfully Jack caught you, steadying you. "You're not going anywhere. Sam and Dean can handle this." You sighed as he gently pushed you back down on the bed. He untied your shoes and set them aside. "You need to rest."

You pouted. "But I'm not tired. How about we watch Netflix?"

Jack agreed excitedly, as you had gotten him hooked on a show called Grey's Anatomy. You scooted over in your bed to make room for the tall boy. You got out your laptop and set it in your lap, clicking on the show. After a while, you felt your stomach rumble.

"Are you hungry?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, a little." You admitted. Jack nodded as he stood up and walked out. You gave him a confused look. You wanted to follow him, but you were so tired you doubted that you would make it to the kitchen. About ten minutes later, he returned with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea.

"Here. Sam told me that when humans get sick, this is what they eat to make them feel better." He handed you what looked like a heated up can of chicken noodle soup and herbal tea. You gave Jack a smile as you happily accepted the food. As soon as the soup hit your taste buds, you wanted to spit it out, but you begrudgingly swallowed it.

"This is amazing, Jack!" You lied with a smile on your face. "Thank you."

"Oh, I was worried that you might not like it. I've never cooked before." Jack sat back down next to you on your bed. You quickly downed the soup and drank the tea he had provided for you. You felt yourself becoming drowsy once more. Due to the lack of room on the bed, you snuggled yourself into Jack's side.

He slowly wrapped his arm around you, feeling awkward, but at the same time, he felt butterflies in his stomach. "Hey, Y/n?"

"Yeah?" You opened your eyes sleepily.

"How do you know if you're in love?"

That woke you up. "Oh, well, I don't really know. I've never been in love."

"You haven't?" Jack asked.

"No. Although, I haven't really had the chance to fall in love. I've grown up with Sam and Dean on the road, so I couldn't really make relationships like that." You paused for a moment. "But from what Sam and Dean have told me, it's not just a crush or something trivial. I think it's like you would do anything to make them happy, even if it hurt you. You would sacrifice everything if it meant that they would be content."

"Oh," Jack nodded. "Then I'm in love with you."

"What?!" You sat up. "Jack, you're not in love with me."

Jack sat up as well, his arm falling to his side. "But I am. I would do anything to make you happy."

"Yeah, but Jack, that different. I would do anything to make you, Sam, Dean, and Cas happy, but that doesn't mean I'm in love." He was obviously confused, there was no way he could be in love with you.

"But it feels different with you than it does anyone else. I want to be around you all the time, you make me laugh, and you teach me all kinds of cool things and different words, like fu-"

You covered Jack's mouth with your hand. "Don't say that word in front of anyone. You can only say it if it's just us." Jack nodded as you pulled your hand away.

"Why can't I be in love with you?" He asked.

You sighed as you looked at the Nephilim. You cared for him deeply, and you would go as far as to say you do love him, but there was no way he could love you.

"Jack, I'm not the type of person you fall in love with. I'm not a size 2, I'm a size 20, I'm not pretty, or smart or anything like that."

"But I think you're beautiful and intelligent. I don't care about those superficial things, Y/n. I think you're amazing."

You could feel your heard beating out if your chest. No one had ever told you these things, no one that mattered, anyways.

"Jack, you don't love me." You insisted.

"I do. Please, let me be in love with you." You didn't say anything as Jack leaned in to kiss you. You let his lips skim over yours before pulling away.

"Jack, I'm sick." You protested.

"I can't get sick." He grinned.

You felt yourself smile as you kissed him, his mouth fitting perfectly with yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as he cupped your face. You had no idea how Jack was such a good kisser, but he was amazing.

Suddenly, the door swung open. "Hey, kiddo, you doing o-" You and Jack jumped apart, looking over to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway.

"W-what are you doing back so early?" You stuttered.

"Jody and Donna didn't need our help after all." Sam mumbled, a shocked look on his face.

"Jack," Dean said lowly. "When I said take care of Y/n, this is not what I meant!"

#castiel imagine #jack kline imagine #sam winchester imagine #spn imagine #supernatural fluff #supernatural imagine #gabriel imagine #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #jack kline #jack kline x reader #jack kline x y/n

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shinsoussimp · 4 years ago

Note

all right, you said it’s fine, so here’s another one 🤍 (yes, i’m addicted to your writings so :0 )

mirio? big yes. hurt/comfort with a gay reader? definitely.

so like, the reader used to study in another school, and had been outed and everyone in his class were very mean and rude about that. so now it’s his biggest fear to be outed again, but he really falls in love with mirio after some time. they spend a lot of time together, and get really close. reader doesn’t know mirio likes him back because for him, every person will be mad at (y/n) for liking boys (because of the past trauma yk). and one day someone from their class accidentally activated their “saying truth” quirk on reader and confession to mirio just slips from his lips in front of him and the whole class. and like, after that he runs away in absolute panic, thinking everyone will mock and hate him again. he starts avoiding mirio just not to see him disappointed, when in reality togata just wants to say he likes him back? 🥺 so one day he just catches him and doesn’t let him to run? 🥺 saying he would love to be his boyfriend 👉🏻👈🏻 maybe a bit comforting from classmates yk? sorry it’s so long again 😞🤍

a/n: sephiii you’re requests are always amazing :) i would never say no to you sending one in! i hope you like it!!

a/n: y/h/n= your hero name, also i said parent (they/them) in an effort to be more inclusive, i don’t know people’s family life. if you have any other ideas where i can be more inclusive, please let me know!

TW: homophobia, violence (shoving), blackmail

a/n: requests are open! (p.s. i’m on a mirio kick right now to let everyone know ahaha)

Mirio x homophobia

becoming a hero was always your dream, since you were a little kid. you didn’t want anything standing in the way of that. so when you finally made your way to shiketsu high, you were determined to never let anyone find out about you being gay. but somehow, it still happened.

“yo, y/h/n!” a second year student ran up to you as you were walking to the cafeteria and threw his arm around your shoulder, “can you do a favor for me?~” he always would get you to help him cheat on exams, but at this point, you were tired of breaking the rules.

“dude i can’t keep doing this. i’m not gonna risk getting in trouble so you can get good grades. try studying.” you huff while shaking his arm off you. he moves to stand in front of you to block your path as you try to get to your table, and he gets visibly more and more angry.

“seriously?” he says through clenched teeth. you could tell he was one of those kids who was too used to getting what he wants whenever he wants it, and he doesn’t know how to handle anything different.

“i’m serious. we would’ve been caught some day.” you try to move around him but he grabs your arm and starts pulling you to the middle of the cafeteria.

“fine. then i guess i’m gonna have to tell everyone your little secret.” shit. you had gotten so used to helping him you forgot the reason why you began your little deal in the first place, he knew you were gay. before you could stop him, he had already begun.

“hey, everyone! i have a little announcement that you all would enjoy. y/n over here, y/h/n if you will, is gay.” you weren’t able to cover his mouth without him grabbing your wrists and holding them down by your sides so he could continue talking, “that’s right, he likes dick. do with that what you will~” he shoves you back a bit when he finally lets go of your arms, and waltzes out of the cafeteria like nothing even happened. everyone starts gossiping around you, giving you weird looks as you run off into the bathroom.

once the bell rang and you needed to go to class, you tried to get there early, so you didn’t need to walk in front of a full classroom. you sat in the back today, but that didn’t mean you were invisible. it started with the girls that sat in front of you giggling, then one of the boys that only had your number for a group project sent you an eggplant emoji. but the cherry on top was one of the most well known boys in your class coming up to you and asking, for everyone to hear, if you were trying to suck his dick. luckily the second bell rang and the teacher came in, forcing them all to back off for now, but this lasted for the next week. it lasted up until you couldn’t take it anymore. you stood up and stormed out of the classroom and never returned. you didn’t go to school for the rest of the year. and with you refusing to return to shiketsu high, you thought your dream of being a hero was ruined. but one morning your parent mentioned the idea of applying to ua.

even though you thought you had no chance of getting in, you took a chance. you went to the admissions office, sent in your application, did all the interviews, and now it was time to wait. and now after a long summer, you finally got a letting from ua.

you got in.

not only were you thrilled to be admitted to the best school for heros, you were thrilled that you never had to go back to shiketsu. you could start over, continue your hero journey. and hopefully you would not get in another situation like last time.

your first two months at your new school went great. you were a second year now, and getting to do many new and exciting things with your training. you made great friends and even developed a bit of a crush. this was dangerous territory, since you didn’t want anyone to know about your sexuality, but you couldn’t stop yourself from hanging out with him. the person in question? mirio togata. the cute third year you passed by in the halls and always came in your class to talk about his experience as lemillion. and you got to call him your friend. you two trained together, you hung out with him and the rest of the big three after school, and he always made sure to join you during lunch breaks at school. in such a short period of time, you two became best friends. and you would never risk messing that friendship up.

but then one day, the unthinkable happens. you thought since things had been going so well for so long, you were in the clear. nobody seemed to know, shiketsu kids didn’t snitch, and training was going incredibly. you and a group of second and third years were hanging out in an empty classroom when someone suggested playing truth or dare.

the rules were simple, pick dare and someone picks a dare for you to do, pick truth and you would be hit by your classmate, asami’s quirk. her quirk was called confession. when in effect, you will be compelled to spill one of your deepest secrets. but you seemed to have a bit of a misunderstanding of her quirk. you didn’t get to choose which secret. so little did you know, your fake secret that you ‘once called your teacher mom in 3rd grade’ was not going to be of use.

“you excited?” mirio plopped down next to you happily. you nodded, because you were. you were genuinely excited to have a friend group and play stupid games like this.

after a few rounds, mostly of people picking dare, you wanted to be the one to switch it up. so once mirio finished bawking like a chicken and walking all around the room with his arms bent like wings, you prepared for your turn.

“truth or dare, y/n?”

“truth.” everyone dramatically gasps, then all bursting out into a fit of laughing, talking about how you had some balls to pick truth. asami sat down in front of you and took a deep breath to prepare herself.

“you ready?” she smiles. you nod, letting her hand brush yours. you felt a rush of warmth through your body then suddenly your mouth was moving.

“i’m gay. i’m really fucking gay and i like mirio.” your hand slaps over your mouth, your stomach dropping as your whole body starts shaking. that was not what you wanted to say. but there is no going back now, and you didn’t want to be here when everyone started teasing you. you especially didn’t want to see what mirio had to say about it. you didn’t want to see the disappointment that would surely be on his face. you jump up and race out of the room, ignoring mirio’s pleas for you to stop running.

he was sent to talk in your class that day, but he didn’t see you. you had decided to go home early for the day. would you really have to leave ua? you were beside yourself with anger and sadness, having to leave the best school because of a stupid game spilling your secret. you knew when you returned there would be endless teasing. it was possible that your friend group spilled the beans to the whole school and now even the first years knew. your parent tried to take your feelings into account, but they wanted to remind you of your dream, your biggest passion.

“you want to save people. it doesn’t matter if you’re gay, you can still protect people, that doesn’t stop anything.” you keep your face shoved into the pillow you were hugging close to your chest as they spoke. they took a deep breath and placed a comforting hand on your back, “look worse case scenario, they told everyone, and now people tease you. they’ll probably get over it, and if not, it’s only two more years. then you get to live your dream happily, as yourself.”

their words encouraged you to return to school after about a week. but you still couldn’t face your friend group. especially mirio. so when the lunch bell rang, you left the school building and made your way to the side of it to eat lunch out on a bench by some trees. you figured that mirio or some of your friends saw you, but you prayed that they wouldn’t follow you. sadly those prayers would go unanswered because next thing you know you hear a familiar voice shouting your name. you turn around and see mirio jogging towards you. you turn around and start walking faster in an effort to avoid him, but right as you arrive at the bench you’re stopped by his hand wrapping around your arm.

“would you talk to me?!” he pulls your arm, making you turn around, “you drop a bomb like that and then fall off the face of the earth for a week?!” you sigh and set down your lunch and bag behind you, still not saying anything.

“y/n seriously. what the hell?”

“if you came here to make fun of me, just get it over with.” you finally look up at him, all of your walls up taller than ever before as you prepared to have your heart broken.

“what are you talking about?” his face has confusion written all over it but it has to be fake. he’s trying to trick you into thinking you’re safe then he’ll talk about how stupid you are to all of your other friends that has to be-

“you really think i would make fun of you?” his voice is soft and even in such a high stress moment, still puts butterflies in your belly. but he’s lying.. he has to be. he’s gonna react how everyone else did.

“y/n, i would never.” he takes a step towards you and reaches out his hand, but you slap it away taking another step back.

“i’m not gonna fall for it! you all are gonna react exactly how all those dumbass shiketsu kids did!” tears start streaming down your face and you realize that you’re shaking again. you sit down on the bench behind you and put your face in your hands as uncontrollable sobs kept coming. mirio knelt down in front of you and put his hands on your knees.

“i like you too.” your head shoots up and you look at him with wide eyes.

“w-what?”

“if you hadn’t ran out the day you said it, you would have heard that i like you too. and i didn’t know if you were gay or not but i really wanted to find out.” you relax a bit as your brain tries to comprehend the idea of something like this happening, “they all said that i was a lovestruck idiot... and they were all accepting.” he held your hands in his as you lifted your head so you could look at him.

“they all love you. and they’ve been worried sick, wondering what happened to you. but most of all me. i thought you left the school i-” he pauses to take a deep breath, “i thought i lost you.” his grip on your hands tightens. suddenly the tears streaming down your face were tears of joy, accompanied by a few laughs. he stands up and pulls you up with him, wrapping his arms around you, swallowing you in a warm bear hug.

“i would love to be your boyfriend, if you’re okay with that.” you giggle into his chest and grip onto the back of his shirt.

“i am okay with that.” he pulls his head back a bit to look at you, for a few moments not saying anything just making a smug face at you.

“i was hoping you would be, i mean you are ‘really fucking gay’“ he teases. you smack his chest as you shake your head, laughing. he explains how you should go talk to your friends and explain what happened, then you two could tell them the good news. he even started planning a date as you two made your way back to the school building, while holding hands of course.

you didn’t know it was possible, but you were going to be okay. you were going to be able to be yourself. you couldn’t wait for what the rest of your time at ua would hold.

#mirio togata #mirio x male reader #mirio angst #mirio fic #bnha fic #bnha angst #mha angst #mirio bnha #mirio fluff #bnha fluff

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whynotwinnie · 4 years ago

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Timida part 5: Roger Taylor x OC

oof another chapter I swear once semester is over I’m going off on all the chapters but after finishing this one it honestly gave me some motivation so maybe new chap tomorrow?!?! thanks for reading! bennie <3

Mickey

You sat back down at the table with Roger and happily waited for your food. Carrie came by with your water and told you your food will be out soon.

Roger talked about his band practice a bit more while you patiently listened to him, you loved the way he talked so passionately about music his droopy eyes were wide with excitement even when he was talking about how he was arguing with his bandmates. He waved his hands excitedly while he explained how he played the drums.

“Brian and his stupid ideas always throwing everyone off. Freddie, our lead singer, had to agree with just so he can calm down. Deaky, our bassist, completely agreed with me that we didn’t need a whole bunch of background vocals on the song.” Right as he finished Carrie and another waiter came with two trays of food.

They set down multiple items of food that you saw on the menu, from pasta to pizza. You just watched as they set down plates and plates mouth agape.

“Does everything look good to you guys?” Carrie asked once the last plate of food was set down.

“Yes, everything looks perfect. Thank you so much.” Roger gave her a smile as she left.

You looked at Roger, then to the food on the table, and then back to Roger and started to laugh, you laughed until you had tears in your eyes and he joined you.

“Roger-” you said in between laughs “Why did you order so much?” just thinking about all the food on the table made you go into a fit of laughter again. You covered your mouth with both hands to try to stifle how loud your laugh was.

After a while, you calmed down enough to wipe the tears that were falling from your eyes.

“Well I didn’t know what you wanted to try and I always get the same thing when I come so I decided that I should get a couple of things on the menu,” he said shyly.

“A couple? Roger, it looks like you ordered the whole restaurant.” you jokingly teased.

He stared at you in silence sticking his chin out to the silverware that was set aside for you.

“Oh no Roger please serve yourself first.” You don’t know why you felt like this, maybe it was the way you were brought up.

He grabbed a plate and you felt yourself sigh with relief.

“What did you want to eat Mickey,” he said fork in hand gesturing at the plates of food.

“Huh” never in your life had you been served by a man. It’s not like you had a problem with it, it was just new to you. It felt wrong and you were sure that if your mother had been there she would have scolded you for not serving him.

“Well I think your a chicken parm type of girl,” He said while he cut about half of the chicken parmesan and put it on your plate.

“Andddd….” he drawled out, “I think you would also like some shrimp alfredo” putting another serving on your plate.

“And finally some pizza.” As he put 2 slices of pizza on the side of your plate.

Your eyes met his droopy blue ones and at that moment you felt something pull in your chest. You haven’t been in a relationship in years, you have been on dates since you’ve been living in England. But you always made an excuse to stop seeing the other person.

You have never met anyone like Roger though he was so confident and didn’t care what anyone had to say about him, and something about that scared you but it also made you more curious.

Roger lives such a different life than you. You like to only go out when you need to where he barely stays home, You like to stick to that shadows and not cause a scene while he needs everyone’s attention to feel satisfied. You are complete opposites it couldn’t work out in the long run.

But.

Every time he smiles at you or cracks a joke you feel like you are floating as if you two are the only people in the world. You haven’t known him for long… practically a day at most. But you couldn’t help to let yourself go a bit more while you’re with him.

He slid your plate back to you carefully as it was filled with food. You smiled and grabbed his plate and served him the same way he served you.

…

Walking out of the restaurant with full stomachs and 2 bags worth of leftovers you felt satisfied and honestly a bit sick. You both ate way too much and somehow he managed to convince you that you both needed desert.

He also refused to let you pay for the meal or even go half. He just put cash on the table and even left a good tip for Carrie too.

He opened the passenger seat for you again and gave him a small smile before getting in his car. He gently shut the door and jogged over to the driver’s side to get in.

“What do you want to do now Mick?” he asked as he started the car.

It was going to be nine but you didn’t have anything to do the next day except maybe for a couple of alterations but you were sure you could get those done quickly.

“I’m up for anything Roger.” You said as clasped your hands and put them on your lap.

He pulled out of the parking lot and started driving.

“Do you think it would be cool if we went by my apartment, Freddie really wanted to meet you and he’s probably hungry too.”

You felt your stomach drop a bit, you didn’t have anything against going into his apartment but what if he was expecting something from you? He brought you to a nice place for dinner and paid for everything.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to either Mickey, you can say no” he laughed a little to make you feel better.

“We can just drive around and once one of us thinks of something we can do that… is that okay with you?” he asked as he gently took one of your hands from your lap once he saw you picking at your skin.

You drove around listening to the soft music playing from his car and you allowed your mind to wander off for a bit. You don’t know how but you were suddenly weighing out the pros and cons of being with Roger. Pros: he is a really great guy, he is really kind and always pays attention to how you are feeling especially if it was something you were uncomfortable with. It also didn’t hurt that he was easy to look at. Cons: you are very inexperienced in relationships and especially with a man.

Your only other relationship had been with Olivia and you had been friends with her first before you actually dated. Everything seemed like it was moving too fast with Roger, which isn’t always a bad thing. You felt your stomach flip and you felt your food come up.

You pulled your hands from Roger’s to cover your mouth as you breathed in and out from your nose to try and calm yourself down.

“Mickey? Are you alright?” He asked looking over quickly at you before turning his eyes back to the road.

“I think I’m going to be sick Roger,” you said hands still clasped over your mouth as you shut your eyes trying to get ahold of the situation.

“Oh my gosh okay okay, let me find somewhere with a restroom Mickey.” He said as he made a sharp turn that only made things worse.

“Oh no Roger pull over pull over pull over.” you kept saying feeling your dinner rise.

He pulled over on the side of the small road that was thankfully not busy. You quickly found the door handle and jumped out of the car and emptied your stomach out on the side of the road.

Roger was by your side in a second pulling your hair back and repetitively asking if you were okay.

Once you were finished you felt gross and somehow even sicker. Your throat hurt and your stomach felt like it was throbbing for some reason.

Roger helped you get into the passenger seat again as you tried to get your breathing under control.

“I’m sorry Mickey I was driving too fast this is all my fault.”

Only Roger could make you throwing up and ruining your almost perfect date his fault.

“No Roger I’m sorry I don’t know why I got sick all of a sudden.” You said.

“My apartment is literally down the street I’d honestly feel a lot better if we could stop there first and get you some medicine before I take you home.”

That didn’t seem like too bad of an idea, you shook your head yes and felt your eyes start to drop feeling extra tired.

Roger started the car again and said “Don’t worry Mickey, I got you.”

thanks for reading!!

taglist <3: @johnricharddeacy @fairytalequeen07 @mysticfairy39 @cjand10

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cno-inbminor · 5 years ago

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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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the-darkfactory · 4 years ago

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A SICK GIRL.

This text was written and published in November 2018. This is the first time I translate to English. Hope it reaches those who need to read it most. Much love.

I was born dying. I was dragged from my mom's belly straight to the intensive care unit and spent a month in the incubator until I could breathe without machines. I was also born whole and no one ever told me that, one day, my mind was going to split in two.

I was very little when I first felt strange. Very strange. I was already 5’6 feet tall when I started my last year in primary school, finding clothes that fit me was torture. However, for my graduation party, I found a purple dress that seemed perfect. When I tried it on, under that all-showing light in the changing room, I felt fat. That was the first time I was disgusted by my reflection.

After a summer tinged with school farewell melodrama, I started high school. I spent most of my free time studying, listening to the Backstreet Boys or reading Harry Potter. At the end of the first semester, I got the best grades in my class. While everyone at home was happily celebrating, I made a pact with a friend: I was going to stop eating.

My thinness brought about new habits and what I remember the most is how cold I was: during school recess, my friends would go out to play and I would stay in the classroom wearing every sweatshirt I could find. It would take me forty-five minutes to eat an apple and before going to sleep, I would go over each food item I’ve had in the day and calculate the calories. I also learned that I had to get up slowly to avoid the dizziness that turned my room into a washing machine.

One day my family and I went to one of those “all you can eat” restaurants. After two sandwiches and a bit of cake, I started crying because I had an intense stomach ache, but it was all a premeditated drama I staged so they wouldn't make me have dinner. Two days later, my mom dragged me to a clinic. I had to take off my clothes and stand on an ice-cold scale. "You weigh 39 kilos," the doctor announced. "You're anorexic."

I was taken to a hospital that had a team specializing in treating people like me. We waited for hours until my name was called and I was met by an anti-anorexic army: a nutritionist, a clinical doctor, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and others I never understood who they were. They made my parents leave and Anorexia and I were interrogated. They asked us if we vomited, if we had thought about committing suicide and if we had ever been abused. When we talked about my parents' divorce, we burst into tears. Then they faced the back of two chairs and asked us to separate them according to how far apart we felt they had to be from each other in order for us to fit between them. We did it and passed the test: we knew we were tiny. The doctors said I was on the verge of hospitalization. I was a sick girl.

Once our relationship was made official, we went to the hospital three times a week. Long waiting, weighing, talking. We were forbidden to be physically active and we had to write down how much of what we ate a day. Mom sometimes comforted us and sometimes shouted at us. One night she yelled a lot because we had only had a piece of fruit for dinner, but how could I explain to her that eating made Anorexia hurt and so it hurt me too? We were sent to a psychologist we stared at in silence for an hour. We finished our junior year with straight As, enslaved at home and undernourished.

Anorexia and I did everything together. I would start a sentence and she would finish it. When I moved my hand to grab something, she was the one who forced my fingers closed, and if something bothered her, I did whatever was necessary to calm her down. One afternoon, we went cycling with our friends and we were carried on the handlebars so we wouldn't move. Everything was going beautifully until a sudden stop made us fall face first to the ground. We got up spitting teeth and blood. We broke our four incisors, skin came off our lips and we split the right side of our face. That night before showering, I stared at our skeletal, beaten up reflection. Days shy of my fourteenth birthday, I cried my heart out asking Anorexia what the fuck had she done.

I wanted her to go away. The only thing I could do to get her to leave was eat. Sometimes she won, sometimes I won. Once, she lost 100 grams and I went home after the medical check up feeling a killer urge. Another day, I gained 200 and that night she didn’t let me sleep. It was war. If Anorexia told me to hide food, I ran off to snack with my brother. If she hated sandwiches, I'd buy a dozen of my favorites. For every complaint of hers, a food bite of mine, and so, bite by bite, I filled her mouth with silence until I could no longer hear her speak.

I started my second year of high school with a seemingly healthy weight. I went to the hospital once a week. Eventually, I was told I could go once a fortnight, once every twenty-one days and, somehow, I stopped going altogether. I don’t remember how or when that decision was made. The only thing I do know is that during all that time I ate almost nothing from Monday to Friday and a lot from Saturday to Sunday in order to weigh more at the Monday check-ups. The thing was that once the pact between Anorexia and I had been made, she would try and talk to me every day. People didn't notice but I knew she was still there. We were still the best students, we lifted weights after eating a salad and we never got our periods. We were stopped on the streets to be offered jobs at modeling agencies and we realized that our bond had the aesthetic approval of society. I forgave her for all she had done and gave her, again, space in my body to grow.

When we turned seventeen, Anorexia changed. She screamed at me and didn't feel like doing anything. We quit the gym, gained weight and developed insomnia. One drunken night, we came home and went straight to the kitchen. We opened the fridge and devoured, on our knees, all the leftovers from dinner. We then shoved our fingers down our throats. That's how Bulimia arrived.

Bulimia was fiercely hungry. My cheeks, arms, and chin grew like a fatty bubble. I was disgusted by my body and I got dressed in the dark. I stopped studying, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. At prom I had two drinks and passed out. I woke up in hospital with an IV in my arm and my worried mother by my side. I didn't know how to explain that for weeks and in order to be skinny that night, everything I ate, Bulimia vomited.

I wanted to feel normal. I was very weak and exhausted, but Bulimia was young and confident. She never shut up, she would even eat raw polenta in spoonfuls and vomit it all, leaving me tired and confused lying in my bed. Her arrival was abrupt because Anorexia had already drilled holes in my head: they were different versions of the same thing and a pattern of destructive habits that infected everything. They turned my life into a living hell.

We vomited so much that we spent hours burying our heads in the toilet seat and we would only stop when we saw the first thing we had eaten leaving our body. We did it five, six times a day. We used every bathroom we set foot in. The ones at school, my friends' houses, restaurants, my grandmother's, my dad's. I developed arrhythmia and thought that Bulimia was going to get me killed. Some nights, while dreaming that I was violently bingeing, I would wake up desperate and ready to stick my fingers in my mouth until I realized that, that one time, the binge had been a dream. That feeling of “fake need to vomit” was the closest thing to peace I felt during those times.

Bulimia didn't want me around anyone. She made me think I was crazy and that I would never be able to be separated from her. I stayed away from my friends. I stopped having dinner with my family and we would lock ourselves up in my room. Mom would bring me trays of food that Bulimia kept in plastic bags. I once found a rotten chicken inside the closet. It was full of maggots. We were almost found out when my brother saw a glass of vomit in the bathroom that we had forgotten to flush down the toilet. He brought it to me and said, "Is this yours?" while retching. We nodded and took it away from him as if it had been a misplaced shoe.

I don't know how I managed to free myself from anorexia and bulimia, but for the last three years I have hardly felt their presence. Sometimes I wonder if I started traveling around the world to confuse them and leave them stranded in another part of the planet. Maybe they got bored of my criticism and couldn't stand my will to not share my body with them. One thing I’m sure of is that love played a major part. It was crucial to understand that I did not choose to live with them and that asking a person with compulsive thoughts to stop having them is like asking a paralytic to simply stand up and walk.

Anorexia and bulimia stole my time and energy. I gave them my will to live, my projects and motivations. In return, they gave me anxiety, panic attacks, depression and suicidal thoughts. They still whisper to me every now and then but I can ignore them. It’s not always easy. I don’t know, this coexistence has been very strange but they definitely don’t own me anymore. Looking for the reasons I developed this disorder is complex. I know that I was affected by the pressure I felt from a very young age to be perfect, the weirdness that arose in my family dynamics after the divorce and feeling that for society I was worth more as a woman the skinnier I was. The final trigger must have been a genetic predisposition and a bit of mystery: there is still a lot that science doesn't know about all this. Once my disease was established, it became a vicious, out-of-control cycle that was perpetuated by the worst evil of all: silence. I felt a deep shame, thought it was my fault and that, hence, I deserved what was happening to me. That made me sicker and I vowed to hide it, which was possible because these disorders are invisible: they lock themselves inside bodies of all types, gender, background, shape and turn them into slaves.

When I stopped vomiting and regained control of my hands, I wrote this. It feels weird. After seventeen years of being in a symbiotic relationship, there is something I still don't understand: if I am no longer a sick girl, then who am I?

#bulimia #anorexia #eatingsdisorders

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thatsallotadamage · 4 years ago

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An interview with a promising Hero (Fic)

Relationships nonromantic: Aizawa and Toga. Toga and the league

Warnings: small mention of suicide

Description: Toga Himiko has been captured. Nezu has a "Reforming Villians" program set up that would fit Toga perfectly. The only problem is they need to get her to talk about her story but she refuses to speak to anyone, except Aizawa for some reason.

_____

Preface this by saying in this AU Toga hasn't killed anyone. She attacks but leaves them alive, unless of course it's an attacker. )

Aizawa sat in a little room with a two way mirror and a table in front of him. It was an interviewing room, why was he here? Well for Toga Himiko of course, Nezu had a little god complex memory and started a program to reform young villians around the time Toga Himiko was captured. But the issue was the only person she was willing to talk to about her past was Aizawa. So he had to squeeze every bit if information he could from her.

He watched with interest as they brought her in. Just a week ago she was sitting in his Livingroom with a cup of hot chocolate looking just like any other teenage girl. But when they dragged her in she looked bitter and surprisingly scared. Her hands were bound, nails had been clipped and she had a dog muzzle over her mouth. "I can walk myself to the damn chair!" She snarled as she was escorted to her seat across from Aizawa. The guard let out a quick "good luck" before hurrying out and closing the door.

They sat in silence for a few minutes "Toga" he said.

She looked up at him "Don't be that way Shouta! You know you can call me Himiko" she said, her usual smile returning to her face "Now, why'd they muzzle me? You know I'm not going to bite you" she said with a pout "I really don't like being muzzled".

He raised his eyebrows and started the recording "Well, they dint trust you it know you like I do, I was pretty angry when they muzzled you" he said and yawned. "Alright let's cut to the chase already, you know Nezu wants to reform you" he sipped his coffee.

"Yep! And I know you want any information you can get in the league right?" She asked.

Aizawa nodded "But right now let's talk about you, not much known about your early life other than you ran away at the age of thirteen" he said "Mind opening up about it?".

Toga pondered for awhile "Sure, no use in hiding it anyways, it's just a classic normal villain story really" she stretched and yawned. "Mommy and daddy didn't love each other, they fought about that, they thought my quirk was gross, they fought about that, they thought my tendencies were disgusting so they fought about that" she paused and shifted in her seat. "They just fought a lot and at the end of it mom would get really violent and tell me it was my fault so one day I snapped, I'm sure you've heard of the accident where I attacked my classmate". She seemed hesitant when remembering it. "I ran away with the intent of killing myself, I was going to jump off a bridge but i couldn't go through with it, there was a guy there and he took me in and that was Dabi, he became like my big brother and I never looked back" she stopped.

Aizawa took awhile to process it all. It was difficult for home to think of the villain Dabi helping a little girl who was about to jump off a bridge back onto her feet. Hell it was difficult to imagine a parent telling their child it was all their fault and that their quirk was disgusting. Then again he had adopted Hitoshi and his background wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either. "Wasn't really sure what I was expecting but certainly not that" he said. Toga merrily laughed "Yeah I know it's weird to think about but Dabi is actually a big softie when it comes to kids and me" she smiled fondly at memories of years past.

Aizawa took a long sip of his coffee thermos, mumbling to himself how it was almost empty. "Alright, speaking of Dabi can you tell me about this league?" He asked.

She grinned "Yeah! We're like a family really" she said happily

Aizawa raised his eyebrows, he never thought a gang of criminals would ever call themselves a family so to sat he was curious wouldn't even cover it "How so?" He asked.

"Well, I told you Dabi is like a big brother but he's like the one that shows up randomly for gas money, he comes and goes" she pouted. "Shiggy is like a big brother too but the one that lives in the basement and games all day, hes a meanie" she said and tugged against her hand restraints "I itch" she complained.

"Keep talking and I'll take your cuffs off" he said. He didn't know how to feel about Toga talking about them like this, giving them nicknames and humanizing them. He was reminded Shigaraki was just a kid just a bit older than Mirio.

"Well, Kurogiri is like our dad" she giggled "He gets mad when we forget to eat or the dishwasher isn't loaded right...in fact the last thing we talked about before I got captured was him asking what I wanted for dinner and he'd have it ready when we got home" she tried not to look emotional but it was difficult. One moment she was going about her day, looking forward to a hot chicken tender meal and the next she was cuffed and muzzled at the police station being fed a bag of carrot sticks. Aizawa hated it, he hated seeing kids upset and no matter how people put it Toga was still just that, a kid, a child.

"Um" she sniffled and wiped her eyes with her wrist. "Compress and Spinner are like the fun uncles, Compress with his magic shows, he loves doing tricks and Spinner is just fun to be around when he's not brooding...those two even homeschooled me so I don't have the education level of a twelve year old" she said and couldn't look him in the eye. "I don't know what I would call Jin, he's like family but doesn't fit anywhere, hes my best friend...Twice is fun though he's my partner in crime- one time we swapped out Dabi's hair dye shampoo with normal shampoo, his hair is white" she snickered. Seemingly in a better mood talking about the rest if her 'family'. "What about you Shouta? You got family right?".

He wasn't expecting her to be asking him questions. But he knew if he didn't answer she's just get upset and refuse to talk. "Yeah I got people like that. Twenty three problem children...well twenty four if I count Mirio" he couldn't help but smile with fondness thinking about his students and kids "I got Present Mic, he's my best friend, my guy if you will" he said and downed the rest of his coffee. "That thinking you said about Kurogiri? I am the tired dad that is sick of asking all the kids if they remembered to eat, it's annoying when they don't" he said. Toga laughed and proceeded to call him a big softie. "Yeah yeah I know the kids say that every day, is there anyone else you want to add to your family?" He asked.

Without hesitation Himiko replied with "Hawksie!". Aizawa took a moment to process that, he knew Hawks had been gathering Intel for the HPSC on the league for some time now, but had it really gotten to the point that Toga thought of him as family "What?" He asked.

"Hawksie! He’s like the fun uncle, he takes me places and I've time he held me and we flew!" She laughed "He won't let me bite him though because he's a meanie, like I know his little secrets like the gloves and the chirping thing, what's the big deal?" She said. Aizawa just stared. She frowned "What? You feel bad because he's a spy don't you?" she asked.

Aizawa didn't make any movement, he shrugged and continued looking. She groaned "Look we know he's a spy already but Dabi is his friend and Shiggy cares about him, I know he thinks about me as a sibling and Kurogiri cares about him way to much, like he made him a dinner to take home once because of the stupid punishments" she said. "He and Spinner get along great and you should see when he plays Twice and Jin during go fish" she smiled a little. "He tells those Thots at the HPSC what they need to know but he hates them just as much as we do, I can't say anything else since he wouldn't appreciate me saying anymore but Hawksie is my friend and I can't wait to see him".

Aizawa listened attentively to what she had to say, It was a shock to say the least. "I see, well I won't ask about that anymore okay? How about anew topic like" he pulled out a stick note " How do you feel about this while reforming thing?" Hs asked.

Her features dropped and she started thinking "Hopeless" she said. "You can take a villain out of the league but you cant take the league our of the villain ya know?" She said. "They're always going to be my family because I had no one else... they raised me into the girl I am today" she said. "Hawksie always talked out reforming me and I doubt he didn't pull any strings to make sure I didn't wind up at Tartarus or Nanba". She looked like she was lost in thought, she took a deep breath and swung her feet back and forth. "Hawks always said the villain route is no place for a kid but what choice do I have with a blood quirk that makes me literally crazy?!" She teared up. "The only blood quirk hero I can think of is Vlad King...he's so cool but he doesn't drink blood he just expels it" she said.

Aizawa was surprised to head her call a hero cool. "To-" he stopped himself "Himiko, people with quirks labeled villainous can make the greatest heroes, I should know that since I'm trading one right now" he said. "My son is adopted, he was given up because of his quirk, he can mind control people and he's going to be the best Hero because of it" he said. "And I want to remind you not all heroes wear capes, some wear lab coats, others are first responders and therapists, a Hero's job is to help people and you don't have to have a flashy or conventionally heroic quirk to do it" he lectured.

"...Yep, 100% dad material" she said before bursting into a fit of laughter "You even got the 'please understand my lecture' face!" She wheezed.

Aizawa rolled his eyes "I get that a lot, okay last question why did you choose me of all people to interview you? You seem close with Hawks so why not him?" He asked.

Toga shrugged "Like I said, Hawks is like my uncle, besides he knows all this stuff already" he said "When they brought me to the UA place you were the first person that treated me like a person so I appreciate that" she smiled.

The buzzer sounded letting them know time was up. Toga sighed "Aw man!" She pouted. Aizawa grabbed his empty cup and stood up "I'll see you around kid, you'll find a family and make a great hero okay?" He truly believed she had potential "I better see you in my class or in Vlad's in a week or two" he said. Himiko groaned as the escorts walked in to take her away "Alright whatever Dadzawa I'll see you later" she teased.

___

"Dadzawa huh?" Hizashi asked from his spot on the couch.

"Yeah" Shouta chuckled "it has a nice ring to it".

#mr aizawa #toga+angst #toga himiko #reformed toga #mha #bnha #bnha aizawa #bnha toga #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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singtotheskiies · 5 years ago

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the best medicine // thor x reader

request: Hello can you write a thor x reader fluff and he is just sick but thinks he is dying since he is a god and thinks gods don’t get sick and the r takes care of him all day 🙃😍

summary: poor thor has never contracted a human sickness in his life—good thing you’re here to help him through it.

words: 1632

warnings: it’s a sickfic, but there’s no v*miting or anything like that; just sore throats n coughs (it’s basically all fluff man)

a/n: PLEASE keep requesting, guys!!! this is so fun for me to do during quarantine, and i’ve got a lot of pent-up affection from being home all the time!! keep ‘em comin:)))

✖✖✖

Most people wake up naturally on the weekends, or are coaxed into consciousness by a phone alarm. Most people spend their weekend mornings at their leisure, preparing coffee and lounging in their pajamas until they decide to change clothes and move on with their day.

Most people, however, are not dating the god of thunder. And it is times like this when you envy those people.

It’s 7:00 in the morning, and you should be asleep in your warm little bed in your warm little house, not worrying about the Iron Man suit banging on your window and shouting your name at the top of its lungs.

You start and scramble clumsily out of bed, tumbling to open the window. “Tony, is that you? Jesus, I’m gonna get so many noise complaints! What the hell is going on? Couldn’t it have wai—“

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Stark quips, his armor drawing back to reveal his smirking and altogether-too-awake face. “Sorry to wake you, but Sparky wants you at the tower. Like, now.”

“Thor—is he—okay? What’s wrong, Tony, oh my god—“ you ramble, frightened.

“Shhh, keep it down—you have neighbors, you know.”

“Oh, I am extremely aware of that fact, and I’m sure every single one of them would love to know why you, sir, are causing a ruckus at seven o’clock in the morning,” you hiss.

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart. Let’s just go now so you won’t have to deal with it.”

“Tony, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“You’ll see. Just—buckle up, ‘kay?”

“I am nOT RIDING WITH YOU!” you scream.

Unfortunately, the man in the billion-dollar suit thinks otherwise.

✖✖✖

Tony deposits you less than gracefully on the kitchen floor of the Avengers complex, your heartbeat even more of a mess than your hair. “We are never,” you say between heavy, erratic breaths, “ever doing that that again.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart, it was fun. Just admit it,” Tony grins.

“Absolutely not,” you say, trying to maintain some sense of dignity by frantically carding your hands through your now-knotted hair. You manage to subdue it somewhat.

“I’ll take you to good ol’ General Electric,” Tony says, walking with you to the nearest elevator and holding it open for you. “He’s—well, he thinks he’s dying.”

“Is he?” you cry, worried.

“‘Course not. He’s just sick. I don’t think he’s ever caught anything from Earth before, so naturally he thinks every breath is his last. He won’t let any of the medical staff touch him, though—says he only wants you.”

“Poor baby,” you murmur. Your heart goes out to your boyfriend, but you can’t help but feel a small burst of pride at his insistence upon seeing you. He’ll recover quickly with his godly immune system, you hope. You’ll just have to comfort him until it blows over.

“Well, off you go, now,” Tony says, making shooing motions as the elevator dings to a stop. “Don’t break anything.”

“You say that like you didn’t just crack all my bones,” you quip, but the doors have already closed in front of a smirking Tony. Turning around, you face the door in front of you. Knocking softly, you say “Thor, honey? It’s me.”

You hear a vague murmur from inside and take that as your cue to push the door open as quietly as you can. Stepping inside, you close it behind you and turn to see your boyfriend.

The curtains have been drawn tight save for a small slit that falls across the bedsheets, illuminating the large form huddled in them. The lines of his body are indistinct until he groans and lifts up his head. “My love,” he says. “My heart rejoices at the sight of you. You look as st—“ His raspy voice (which you would definitely find sexy in other circumstances) is cut off by a dry cough. You wince at the sound and hurry over to his bed, sitting gingerly on the edge so as not to disturb him.

“What feels bad?” you ask, wrinkling your brow.

“Everything. My head, my body, my throat—even my eyes ache,” Thor replies, sniffling. “Do not get too close—I do not wish for you to also die.”

“Thor, honey, you’re not going to die,” you say, trying your hardest to bite back a smile. “You’re just sick—if I got a bug like this, it would only take me a few days to get over it. With you being a god, I doubt you’ll be out for more than two.”

“So it is a bug—an insect—which has given me this illness?” Thor asks. “I have not seen such a creature anywhere near me.”

“No, silly. Bug is just another word for sickness,” you say, finally abandoning your attempt at a straight face.

“I see,” Thor says, looking very much like he does not. “It is a relief to know that my end is not near—although it does feel like that is so.”

“I’m right here to help you,” you say, taking your hand and brushing his slightly damp hair away from his forehead. You let your fingers linger for a moment, scratching his scalp softly. He hums quietly at the sensation, and you brush the back of your hand along his stubbled cheek. Now smiling, he captures your hand in his and kisses it lovingly, looking into your eyes as he does so. Your heart melts—even when sick, he’s a perfect gentleman.

“I love y—“ he tries to choke out, coughing too hard by the end of the sentence to finish it.

“Aw, let’s get you something for that, huh?” you say, rubbing his arm soothingly. “I’ll make you some soup and bring you some medicine.”

“Please do not leave me, my love,” he manages, and you smile down at him.

“I’ll only be gone a few minutes. Just rest until then.” Kissing his forehead, you exit the room softly, leaving Thor with a lovesick grin as he watches you go.

✖✖✖

“I’m back,” you say as you close the door with your foot. A bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a container of cold medicine are balanced on a tray in your hands. You make your way over to the bedside table and place your load on it, smiling when you see that Thor has fallen asleep in the few minutes you were gone. “Wake up, love,” you say gently, brushing the pad of your thumb over his cheek. His eyelashes flutter open, and he hums hoarsely but happily as he realizes you are there.

“Hello again,” he says, his words overtaken again with a coughing fit.

“Let’s get you sat up so you can eat a little bit,” you say. Your hands help prop his back against his pillow. His normally strong body feels weak and tired under your touch.

“What have you brought me?” he asks, eyeing the soup with curiosity.

“Chicken noodle soup. People on Earth eat this when they’re sick. It’s supposed to have healing properties,” you explain.

“So you have made pasta out of a bird?” Thor cocks his head to the side and you laugh.

“No, silly. There’s chunks of meat in the soup that are separate from the noodles. I also added carrots and celery to give you a little something more. Now open up and tell me how you like it.” Thor reluctantly opens his mouth and you feed him a spoonful, watching as his face lights up with delight after tasting it.

“This is amazing, my love!” he cries with as much surprise as his throat can muster. “I never knew Earth could contain soup this wonderful!”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” you grin.

“Indeed I am. Normally, I would find it insulting to be fed by a mortal, but I must confess that you are, as always, the exception.”

“Such a flirt,” you chide him, smacking his arm gently with the spoon. “Now eat the rest—not so fast, though, or you’ll have trouble keeping it down.”

Thor finishes the soup without incident, but balks when it comes to the cold medicine. “It smells like—false fruit and chemicals,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

“That’s basically what it is,” you concede, “but it’ll help you. I promise.”

Thor still doesn’t seem convinced.

“Please?” you say, resorting to puppy dog eyes. “For me? So the horror of seeing you sick doesn’t weigh on my soul any longer than it has to?”

“Fine,” he says, caving. “But only for my lady.”

“Good boy,” you say, patting his head as he grimaces the medicine down.

“Now that I have done as you have asked, may I request something of you, now?” he asks, turning your puppy dog eyes back on you.

“Of course. What is it?”

“Lay with me?” he asks, spreading his arms wide. He looks so helpless and needy that you immediately curl up next to him, kissing his jaw lightly. His arms wrap around you, and you move your cool hands to his forehead and then to cup his face.

“My love?” he whispers. “I know that I am ill, but I cannot resist. Please, may I kiss you?” Heart full, you answer by tilting your head and meeting his lips. They are soft as ever as they rest against yours, barely moving—a ghost of a kiss made gentle by the pure love you both feel. When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead on his, feeling him sigh in utter comfort. You press your lips to his cheek before snuggling into his arms.

When you wake up to both a perfectly healthy Thor and a killer headache, you can’t help but almost welcome the latter. The look in his eyes tells you that he’s about to take even better care of you than you did of him.

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writer-k-pop · 4 years ago

Text

Misunderstood (P3)

네가 정크 푸드를 먹고 있어서 그는 불행할 거야. He'd be unhappy because you're eating junk food.

Description: 8 months after starting work as Soonyoung's secretary at Starlight Entertainment, the feelings you have for Soonyoung only continue to grow. When you accidentally end up confessing to him, will he respond and let you into his life or shut you out? Will what you've seen and learned about him in the past eight months be enough? Warnings: Swearing Genre: Angst, Fluff, CEO!Soonyoung/Hoshi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.8k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

2 months later

"Late morning, sir?" Seungkwan's voice seeped through the office door.

"Something like that." Soonyoung replies.

I raised my head when the office door opened and Soonyoung walked in dressed very formally. I stood to greet him.

"Morning, (y/n)." Soonyoung beat me to words, "Sorry for being late. I had an appointment."

"Morning." I took my seat again and briefly looked at the calendar, "It wasn't written here."

Soonyoung shook his head, setting up his desk for the day, "It was a last minute thing."

I nodded slowly, "Is it the reason you're wearing formal wear and making me look lazy in the process?" I joked, looking down at my simple but clean outfit.

"Partly yes." Soonyoung answered but quickly rephrased, "I mean, I needed to wear this for the appointment and something I have later on tonight but you could never look lazy. You always look great in your outfits."

My shoulders straightened slightly at his comment. "Oh, thank you."

"Some days, even, I feel like you out-dress me. Which makes me look lazy." He rambled on, trying to make up for something.

I laughed, "That's a pretty high compliment coming from the CEO of Starlight." Straightening a stack of documents, I head over to his desk with the papers and a notepad. "These are the finances from the previous quarter's releases and debuts." I informed him and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Soonyoung took the documents from me and flips through them before nonchalantly setting them aside. "Our schedule for the day?" He asked, leaning forward, expectantly. I don't know when he started calling it 'our schedule' but I noticed it about a couple months ago. Though every time I try to ask about it, he does what he does best and skirts around it, usually changing subjects. So I decided to just stop asking.

"Let's see." I opened my folder and pulled out the day's schedule, "There's a meeting in 20 minutes about Starlight's finances.”

Soonyoung sighs heavily, "Boring."

"That's what you always say, yet you always pay so much attention in those meetings." I countered but before he could reply, I moved on. "Then you immediately go into rehearsals for Basics and that new group who's name you still have to finalize. They also requested lunch with you so I've arranged for some sandwiches to be delivered to the practice rooms for that."

I glanced up and saw Soonyoung pouting and looking down at his attire which is not fit to be in the practice room.

I nodded towards the closet in the corner, "You seem to forget that you have at least two changes of clothes in there for times like these."

His face lit up at the reminder and I shook my head. Sometimes I believed that if I wasn't around, the poor man would forget his head somewhere.

"What's after all that?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, because you were late and missed your 9am meeting, I moved it to 3pm." I read off, "Then after that, there's nothing."

"Great!" Soonyoung suddenly exclaimed. "How would you like to go out with me tonight?" He asked, shocking me into silence.

I cleared my throat, "Uhm, it's not Thursday, Soonyoung. We usually go out on Thursday nights." I said nervously, wondering why the sudden change.

He shakes his head, "It's not Thursday, but we can still have dinner together, no?" He tilts his head to the side in question.

"I mean, yeah, I guess so." I answered, "Where would you like to go? I'll make the reservation."

Soonyoung shrugged, "Wherever you want to go. You pick tonight." He smiled warmly.

I smiled back, though my mind was racing trying to find a suitable place. "I will do that. Anything else?"

"You want more than dinner?" He asked, shocked. "I mean we could also do dessert but that might be a lot of food. And it might be late when we do, are you sure you can stay up that late?"

I chuckled, "I meant about your daily schedule."

He chuckled too and then shook his head.

I took my leave to my desk but halfway there, Soonyoung suddenly remembered one last thing.

"OH!" He exclaimed and I turned on a dime to face him, "Can you go check up on Alissa Kim and her recovery? And maybe bring her some flowers?"

"We can do it together, later." I reminded him, "You don't have any meetings after 3 and I'm sure she'd love to talk to you in person and not just your secretary."

His mouth dropped open in a small 'o.' "Good idea." He gave me a thumbs up and I walked back to my desk.

"Order flowers." I wrote on a notepad as a reminder.

After some minutes of silence, Soonyoung moved out of his chair.

"Aren't you coming with?" He asked when I didn't move from mine.

I shook my head, "Not this time, unfortunately. Seungkwan asked me for some help on a few things."

Soonyoung's shoulders sagged ever so slightly I'm surprised I even caught it.

"And the rehearsals?" He continued, ignoring the remaining time before his meeting which ticks away.

"I will try but I can't stay for the entirety of it." I answered, "Your job may be chunked off, Soonyoung, but mine never slows."

"Well, remind me to change your job description then." He commented.

"You don't have to, I actually enjoy it a lot." I told him before noticing the time, "Now go before you're late for the second time this morning." I shooed him out of the office as he chuckled.

Once the office door was firmly shut behind him, I took my seat again and let out a breath.

Why would he all of a sudden want to have dinner with me? And the disappointment when he heard I wouldn't be joining the finance meeting. Did I imagine seeing the disappointment? He couldn't have been that disappointed when I said I wouldn't be going, could he? And what last minute appointment could he have had without telling me? Maybe he didn't have time to tell me? No, he always tells me about his schedule if it effects his schedule here. So where was he?

During the past two months, I have done well at keeping my personal feelings out of the workplace but just watching him work and the way he treats his employees makes the feelings continue to grow.

"I've got to stop reading into things." I mumbled to myself before shaking out my shoulders and looking at the new emails that have popped up.

"Reading into what?" Seungkwan's voice appeared in the office making me jump and scream in fear.

I spun around to see him standing half in the door with an apologetic look on his face.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He apologized quickly.

Holding a hand over my heart, I shook my head. "I'm fine. You just snuck up on me."

"You scare easily, don't you?" He observed and made his way to my desk.

"Very." I told me then looked at him in warning, "But don't you ever tell Soonyoung that. He'll take advantage of it and one day you may end up visiting me in the hospital."

Seungkwan let out a loud laugh, "Soonyoung wouldn't do that. Not to you. He cares too much." He said, casually.

I paused for a split second, wondering what he meant by his last statement. 'He cares too much.' About who??

"So can you help with the project?" He continued on as if nothing was wrong with what he had just said.

"Uh, yeah." I watched as he grabbed one of the chairs near Soonyoung's desk and dragged it all the way over to my desk. "I think I can mess with the schedule enough to make it happen."

"Are you sure it's going to be okay for me to take that many days off? I've never done it before." Seungkwan worried.

I nodded, "Yes, it's going to be okay. Your sister's wedding is absolutely a reason to take a week off. Plus like you've said before, I'm here now."

Seungkwan gave me a warm smile and wrapped me in a hug, "You're the best."

...

"I have a reservation under (y/n)." I told the hostess when we reached her station.

The restaurant rumbled with the conversations and clanking of silverware but wasn't extremely busy. I was thankful for that considering I was walking around with the CEO of Starlight Entertainment who I also seemed to have a growing crush on. Liking for? Whatever the appropriate term is.

"Right this way, please." The hostess smiled, picked up two menus, and started walking into the restaurant.

As we passed the kitchen, the warm scents of sharp spices and nutty sauces filled my nose and sent my stomach into a spiraling realization of how hungry I actually was.

"Is right here okay?" The hostess asked, gesturing to the table tucked away in the corner.

"Perfect." I told her and she set the menus on the table before heading back to the front of the restaurant.

"I've never been here before." Soonyoung looked around while blindly placing his jacket on the back of his chair.

I took my seat and glanced around as well, "It's been a few months since I was here but it's one of my favorites." The restaurant has changed decors slightly to match the concurrent season but other than that, it was practically the same.

"If it's one of your favorites, what do you recommend?" Soonyoung sat and opened up his menu, scanning the options.

I opened mine, "Would it be cheesy if I said the whole menu?" I glanced at him a playful smile on my lips.

He tried, and failed, to hold back a laugh and nodded, "Very cheesy. But I'm not complaining."

"Then, the pastas are really good and the steak is also excellent." I offered, ignoring the last part.

"What are you gonna get?" He asked, continuing on the path I'd chosen.

"I think," I paused and scanned the pages, "I think I'm going to get the shrimp pasta. It's got lots of veggies." I smiled happily. "What about you?"

"The braised chicken looks good." Soonyoung leaned back, arms outstretched, like an old man reading his morning newspaper.

"Evening." Our waiter walked up to the table with two glasses of water and set them down in front of us. "My name's Bomin and I'll be your server tonight. Are you ready to order?"

I nodded, "I'll get the veggie and shrimp pasta, please."

"And I'll have the braised chicken." Soonyoung added.

"What would you like as a side?" Bomin questioned, "We have a side salad, mashed potatoes, grilled green beans, or steamed vegetables."

"A salad would be great." Soonyoung smiled, brightly.

"And anything else to drink besides water?" Bomin asked the both of us.

"What kinds of wine do you have?" Soonyoung wondered.

"Oh, I apologize for not having that menu ready for you, Mr. Kwon." Bomin bowed apologetically and pulled out a folded sheet from his apron, "Here are our wines for the season."

I glanced at Soonyoung with a "are you serious?" expression but he was too busy reading the wine menu to notice.

After a couple seconds, he frowned. "Who am I kidding? I'm not a wine connoisseur." Then he leaned forward slightly. "Would you pick one for us?"

Bomin nodded, "Two glasses?"

I put a hand on Soonyoung's arm for a moment to stop him, "Actually, I won't be drinking tonight."

"Why not?" Soonyoung questioned.

"It's a week day and I have to go back to the office later to finish up some things." I informed him.

"Just one glass, then." He said and Bomin nodded before walking away with our menus. "But we drink on Thursdays?" He wondered, turning towards me.

"We do. But it's usually when we're completely clocked out." I told him, "Which I am not currently."

"We have a driver so if you're worried about driving..." Soonyoung reminded me, trailing off.

I shook my head, "I gotta have a clear mind for work."

"Is the work too stressful?" He asked, suddenly very concerned.

My eyes widened at the fact that he would even think that, "Not at all!" I waved my hands in emphasis, "It's a personal choice. Alcohol hits me pretty easily."

Immediately the concern was wiped away and replaced with teasing. "So you're a lightweight. And to think I thought you could handle your alcohol seeing as we drink together weekly."

"And here I thought you'd never been here before yet our waiter seemed to know who you are." I raised my eyebrows at him, throwing his joke back at him.

He raised his hands in surrender, "You caught me." He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slightly, "My apologies if I have offended you. It was just fun to see you get excited about this place."

"No offense." I told him, "Just tell me next time."

"You got it." Soonyoung nodded curtly just as our waiter returned with our food and his wine.

...

"Can I ask you something?" I set down my fork, my stomach full to the brim with pasta, shrimp, and veggies.

Soonyoung rested his forearms on the edge of the table, fork and knife still in his hands, "Shoot."

"Why don't you correct them?" I questioned, a dull feeling a deja vu rising.

"Who?" He asked, popping another bite of chicken into his mouth.

"The articles that say you're mean, angry, and selfish." I clarified and watch as his chewing slowed down considerable.

"You could always correct them. There's nothing in any company policy or contract that says you can't." He swallowed and took another bite as if my options were obvious.

"I don't do it because I wouldn't ever do anything you didn't want me doing. And it's clear you don't want to fight the articles so I don't." I explained, "But I'm serious, Soonyoung. Why don't you? They're straight attacking you and your character."

After swallowing, he laid down his fork and knife before wiping his mouth with his napkin. "Because they're not entirely false. And at this point, it'd take too much money and time to correct the situation."

He lifted his wine glass to his lips and took a careful sip. 8 months ago, the stark contrast from the media portrayal of Kwon Soonyoung and the actual Kwon Soonyoung would've shocked me to my core. But now, it just made me worry about how that portrayal was effecting him.

"Plus this way," He swirled the wine around in the glass and stared at it. "I get the best of the best trainees. The ones who know about my 'reputation' and who are still brave enough to join my company because they want this career more than anything in the world."

"I don't think any of what the articles say is true, you know." I said going back to a previous statement of his.

He smiled sadly, still staring at his glass. "Then you don't know me."

"Soonyoung." I turned my body more towards him, "I have worked with you for eight months. I have seen you every working day from literally dawn to dusk sometimes. And none of those articles are true. You aren't mean or angry, you're confident and really good at your job. Sometimes a little too stubborn but that stubbornness has gotten you where you are. And you are nowhere near selfish. You are honestly the most selfLESS man I have ever met. I don't know of any other CEO who personally checks on his trainees on a weekly basis. And not just to check their progress but also their mental and physical health."

Soonyoung chuckled but the sad undertone still lingered. "You don't know what I'm like from sunset to sunrise." He stated.

Before I could stop myself, my heart took the reins, "What if I wanted to?"

He looked at me, eyes searching for any signs of a joke being played. I stared back and hoped I didn't just make a complete fool of myself.

"You." Soonyoung finally spoke, "You want to know that side?"

I nodded, lips sealed together, too afraid I'd say the wrong the thing if I used my voice.

"Why?" He wondered.

I took a deep breath, "Why not?" I started, "I've come to enjoy your presence, your personality, and well, you. The way you had only known me for less than a day when you decided to cut off all business with Mr. Park because I was treated poorly at his company."

"That should've been done years ago." Soonyoung interjected.

"But I was the final push to end it." I continued. "And the way you care so intensely for all of your staff and trainees. Worrying about their health to the point of almost panicking when one is hospitalized. Much like a father."

"Anyone would do that." He interrupted, seemingly not wanting to believe my words.

"No. Not just anyone would do that." I argued with him then continued, "You celebrate each of your artists' comebacks and debuts as if they've just won the biggest award of the year."

"None of those explain why you, (y/n), want to know why I say the rumors are not entirely false." Soonyoung shook his head.

"Because I like the man I've seen everyday at work. I admire his ability to ignore the articles and do what he does best: care for and support others." I stated. "I enjoy seeing the little knick knacks that no one else gets to see. The little jokes you throw that no one else understands. Right now, I have your days. Well, most of them. But I want the nights. I want to see who you are when the company ID is not on your immediate person. When your mind isn't focusing on everyone but yourself. I want that Soonyoung too. Not just the CEO version." I finished softly.

"And what if you don't like that Soonyoung?" He questioned, glancing away like if he saw me say the answer, he wouldn't be able to handle it.

"You mean, what if I find the articles to be true?" I rephrased his question and he simply nodded. "From what I've seen, you're not even half of what they claim you to be. Even if you are a little selfish, mean, or angry outside of the company, anyone would understand. Your life's in the spotlight. Your marriages and subsequent divorces were messy and publicized. Anyone would be angry about that. No one wants a messy life. And who knows, maybe you'll be the one who doesn't like non-secretary (y/n)." I shrugged, reality sitting smugly on my shoulder.

"That'd be impossible." Soonyoung whipped around and countered.

"How do you know?" I questioned, "I could be carrying the weight of four divorces and am just hiding it." I joked.

Soonyoung's eyes widen in shock, "Do you?" He lowered his voice and leaned closer, a hint of belief could be heard.

I smiled and giggled, "No, if I went through four husbands in the span of my life so far, I would say I'm a very messed up person."

He let out sigh of relief then glanced at his watch. "Oh shit, it's already 9pm."

"Already?" I snatched my phone from my purse then cursed under my breath when the clock surely reads 9:06pm. "I gotta get back to the company."

Soonyoung only nodded as I stood up. "You go ahead, have Sam take you and then tell him he can go home."

"What about you?" I worried, hands resting on the back of my chair.

He raised his half full wine glass, "I think I'll finish this wine and then take a taxi home."

I shifted from one foot to the other, uneasy about his plan.

"It'll be fine, I've done it before." Soonyoung said when he noticed my nervousness. "Just go and get your work done and then go home and rest."

"Okay." I caved to his plan and turned to leave.

As I thanked the hostess, the realization that I basically confessed to Soonyoung and he didn't give a full answer hits, crushing my soul like a ton of bricks. Sam was waiting outside and opened the car door for me when I exited the building.

"Is Mr. Kwon having a wine night again?" He wondered when he took in my solo appearance.

It took a second to register that he was talking to me. But my voice didn't want to work so I just simply nodded and dipped into the car.

Sam closed the door, quickly moved to the driver's seat, and began the drive to the company. Leaning my head against the window, I couldn't help but replay parts of the night's events. From the aloof conversations during the meal to the sombre atmosphere at the end. The sadness in his eyes projecting his belief in the rumors about him burned into my mind.

'Because it's not entirely false.' Soonyoung's voice echoed in my mind. 'None of those explain why you, (y/n), want to know why I say the rumors are not entirely false.'

"Ms. (y/l/n)?" Sam spoke from the front of the car, breaking me out of my thoughts. "We've arrived."

I looked out the window and sure enough, we were parked in front of the company building.

"Thank you, Sam." I said and then exited the car.

Scanning my ID, I waited for the loud clicks of the doors. As I walked through the lobby, I heard some chatter near the cafe. Walking over, I caught two male and two female trainees snacking on chips and junk food.

"What are you doing?" I asked, making them freeze.

"We were hungry." One of the male trainees lowers his gaze in shame.

"We didn't have enough cash for any meals." A female trainee added on.

"What do you think Mr. Kwon would say?" I said, crossing my arms.

The younger male trainee took in a breath, "He wouldn't be very happy at us for eating."

I smiled sadly. It was obvious that this trainee was new and had read the articles. "You're right. He wouldn't be very happy but not because you're eating. He'd be unhappy because you're eating junk food and not proper food." I looked towards the older trainees, "You know you could've asked for a meal and the company would've paid for it."

"We couldn't find anyone here this late." The second female trainee said.

"What about your managers?" I questioned, eyebrows scrunching in concern.

"Ours went home for the night." The older male trainee said.

"And ours is already really stressed about Alissa so we didn't want to stress him out even more." The second female trainee explained.

"How many of you are here in the practice rooms right now?" I asked, realizing that their hushed tones must've meant they were trying to hide from everyone in the building.

"A few more of us." The first female trainee stated, "They said they weren't hungry so we came out because Tae was on the verge of fainting." She gestured towards the younger male.

I sighed and pulled out my wallet. Sliding out the company card, I handed it to the first female trainee, "There's a sandwich shop down the street that's always open until 11. Go buy enough sandwiches and water for everyone who's in that practice room."

The trainee took the card into her hands with care, as if a sudden movement would break the card in two.

"And when you get back with the food, you can bring the card up to my office to return it." I finished, "And don't do this again."

"You won't tell Mr. Kwon, will you?" The older male trainee asked, worry in his voice.

I smiled and shook my head, "I won't if you leave right now."

With that, all four of them stood up, bowed, and quickly left the building, talking excitedly about what kinds of sandwiches they were going to buy. I watched them until they disappeared from view then began throwing their trash in the garbage can. After their mess was cleaned up, I quickly shuffled to the elevators and didn't even have to wait for an elevator to arrive. Once I reached the tenth floor, I nearly jogged down the hall and into the office.

The draft's deadline was up at midnight and I hadn't even started to organize and make it presentable. Sitting down, I began to type, click, and drag paragraphs and diagrams around into the order I wanted them.

Halfway through my computer haze, a knock sounded from the office doors.

"Come in." I called, thinking it was the trainee returning my company card.

The door opened and closed and footsteps made their way towards my desk. Again, thinking it was the trainee, I didn't bother to look up or take in the fact that the footsteps were much heavier against the floor.

"What was a trainee doing with your company card?" Soonyoung's voice made my entire body freeze. He set the card down on my desk by my keyboard.

Squeezing my eyes shut in failure, I let out a breath. "I caught them eating junk food in the lobby and told them to use my card to buy them and their fellow trainees some sandwiches at the shop down the street."

I reached for the card but Soonyoung placed his hand over mine, effectively stopping me.

"And you weren't going to tell me?" He questioned.

I stayed silent and he took that as his answer.

"That would explain why she looked so nervous when I asked her what she was doing at the elevators." He chuckled. "Where were the managers?"

I looked up at him then. His cheeks were slightly tinged pink so he wasn't drunk but he wasn't completely sober either. His hair looked more messy than when I had left him over an hour ago like he'd run his hand through it one too many times. In his state, I wondered if I should tell him now or wait until the morning.

Soonyoung pouted, "Please? I promise I won't do anything about it until the morning." He held out his pinkie.

I gave him a lopsided grin and connected my pinkie with his. "It was a group of female and male trainees. The female trainees didn't want to bother their manager because their manager is with Alissa. And the male trainees said their manager simply went home for the night."

"He just left them here?" Soonyoung stood up straight, in disbelief. "Absolutely ridiculous." I took the opportunity to pull my previous trapped hand back towards me. The warmth of Soonyoung's hand still lingered on my skin.

I looked up in time to see Soonyoung march towards his desk, muttering something about firing or disciplinary action.

"Soonyoung," I called out to him, making him pause and look towards me. I raised an eyebrow, "You promised nothing until tomorrow morning."

He composed himself and pulled his shoulders back. "You're right. I promised." Then he made his way to small couch opposite his desk, and conveniently perpendicular to mine, and plopped himself down on it.

After eyeing him for a couple seconds, I decided he wasn't going to do anything rash.

"Let me finish this draft and then we can get you home." I told him, eyes already back on my computer monitors.

As I worked, I could feel his eyes staring at me from the couch. I brushed it off, needing to finish it by the deadline but after a while, it became impossible to ignore.

"Can I help you something, Soonyoung?" I asked, looking over at him.

Soonyoung lazily shook his head, "Nope, I'm just lookin' at you."

"Why? Do I have something on your face?" I wondered, hands flying to my cheeks.

He shook his head again, "Nope, you're just pretty."

I felt my heart speed up to 100 miles an hour and tried to hide it. "I think you had a little too much wine. And why did you come back here? I thought you were going home after you were finished at the restaurant?"

"I missed you." Soonyoung sank further in the couch, his head resting back.

We fell into a silence filled only by the clicks of my mouse and the clacks of my keyboard as I tried my best to refocus on the task at hand.

"Say something." Soonyoung whispered just as I saved and sent the document off. An hour before the deadline, but still the latest I had ever turned something in.

"What would you like me to say, Soonyoung?" I questioned, moving towards my email, looking for anything urgent before I took him home.

“Anything." He said softly.

I looked at him from my desk. His eyes trained on the ceiling and his shoulders sagging in exhaustion. I couldn't tell whether the exhaustion was physical or mental.

"Shouldn't it be me asking you to say something?" I countered, watching his face as he tries to decipher what I meant.

He stayed silent as I packed my bag, turned off my computer, and helped him to his feet. The entire way to my car he was silent. I had wanted to check on the trainees before I left but with Soonyoung at my side, that wasn't something I could've managed so I decided to do it the next day when I could sneak away. Knowing the way to his home, I drove us in a never ending silence through the dark night.

When we arrived at his house, he still hadn't said a word. Even as I guided him into his house, his lips stayed shut, voice mute.

"If you're not going to say anything, then I will." I finally spoke, stopping in my tracks. Soonyoung doesn't realize I stopped until he's a few steps ahead and turned around.

"I like you. I want to know every version of you that there is. And I want to make my own conclusions. Not rely on the ones from the articles." I launched into a small confession. "If you don't feel the same, just say so and I'll go back to being your secretary and only your secretary. You just have to say so."

I waited for an answer but he still stayed silent. As I turned to leave, he finally spoke.

"I've never had anyone who wanted to know." He said softly, taking small steps towards me. "Well, there have been a few but they all got scared by the articles before they could make their own conclusions. So I'd learned to just let people believe what they wanted. And then you showed up. From day one, you didn't treat me like the big intimidating boss like the others had. You treated me like a regular, stressed out CEO trying his best to run a successful company."

I looked down, trying to hide a smile at his near exact CEO image I saw.

"I'm grateful for that, you know. But I'm afraid that you'll walk away like everyone else." Soonyoung continued. "That you'll end up hating what you find and leave." By now he was standing right in from of me. Close enough that I saw his longing for me and the fear that rimmed his eyes.

"I can't promise that I won't leave." I almost whispered, "But I can promise I won't be scared off by the articles and make my own conclusion."

He leaned his forehead against mine, "That's enough for me." He mumbled before placing lips on mine.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, it was easy to melt into him and his kiss. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist and I could smell the last traces of wine against his familiar cologne.

We pulled apart but stayed wrapped in each other's arms.

"So I was never reading too much into things all these months?" I questioned, looking into his happy eyes.

"Probably not." Soonyoung smiled.

"Then if you'll give me this answer, when did this all start?" I wondered carefully.

Soonyoung looked off to the side in thought, "Probably a few months ago. I had asked you what 'our' schedule was in the elevator and you had totally missed the fact that I said 'our' and said it all in terms of 'your' schedule."

I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed back slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't remember this ever happening."

"You don't?" He asked, in surprise, "It was the morning when I bought you the apology coffee from the cafe in the lobby?"

"THAT day?" I repeated, "Why that day?"

Soonyoung shrugged, pulled away but grabbed my hand, leading me towards the back of the house. "I think it was the day when I knew you were fully committed to the job and to me. It was refreshing and wonderful to know that I had someone so close who was on my side all the time. At least during the business hours."

We reached the living room and he sat us down.

"And to think, I barely remember that day." I thought back to the day, "Except for the coffee and Alissa's hospitalization, that day is blurred with the rest."

He chuckled, "Doesn't matter much now though."

"I should get going." I said, standing back up, "It's late and you should also be getting some sleep, especially after the wine you consumed."

Soonyoung looked up at me, lips pouted, "Why don't you stay here for tonight?"

I smiled, "Two reasons: 1. I don't have a change of clothes with me and I don't particularly want to show up to work tomorrow in today's clothes. 2. Why would I stay the night at a guy's house when he hasn't even taken me out to dinner yet?"

He opened his mouth to retort but quickly realized I had valid points.

"I win." I stated happily, "I'll show myself out and you get some sleep, mister." I playfully scold him.

"And if I take you out to dinner?" He called out after me.

I laughed, "Then we'll see!"

"Free your schedule for Friday night." Soonyoung basically demanded, "And I mean it, no 'gotta go back to the company' excuses. I'm taking you out on Friday night."

I turned around and waved a hand above my head, "It's a date!"

As I walked away, I heard Soonyoung whisper a very excited 'yessss' to himself and it brought a smile to my face.

I took a deep breath once outside the front door. I didn't know what I would find on this journey but one thing was for sure: Soonyoung wouldn't stop caring for me or making me laugh.

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