#what makes it even worse is that I'm in the middle of exam season | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urtheloml · 2 years ago

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cosmically in love with you

pairing: oikawa tooru x reader w/c: 9.4k synopsis: the first time you meet him, he scowls. and then he cries right in front of you, and subconsciously, you keep wishing to see him again. oikawa tooru keeps you captivated and the more you get to know him, the faster you fall. a/n: finally finished this oikawa fic !! there's wayyy too much star imagery but like... oikawa is cute so it's okay <3

Everyone thinks it starts off with a bang, or with a whisper, or maybe even a laugh. When really, it starts off with a scowl.

He can't be serious, was the only thing you could've thought of the moment he entered your life.

The first time you meet Oikawa Tooru, you were 16 and full of caffeine. April weather at night couldn't be predicted and you should've brought a jacket. Midterm season sucked. Too many topics stuffed into an exam sheet with barely enough space for more than three lines of words. Too many things to revise and too little time. Too many subjects crammed into a limited number of days. Or maybe you were just bitter about being terrible at History.

Walking to your local convenience store, you let your eyes take a break from squinting so much. For a measly 30 minutes, you promised yourself not to think of Stalin and his stupid dictatorship and the pros and cons of his industrial revolution and- oh you've already arrived.

A hand comes up to rub your eyes sleepily, despite having just inhaled a can of instant coffee. You're so into browsing for a specific type of milkbread that you don't hear the little chime of the store's bell. When you spot the loaf you want, you go to reach for it, your hand almost grabs it when another hand topples onto yours.

The first time you meet Oikawa Tooru, he scowls at you. Actually scowls at you for trying to steal his milkbread, as he puts it. The frames of his glasses make his eyes look funky, you think. Or at least, you think you thought that in your head. Much to the boy's dismay, he heard you loud and clear and he reaches up to self-consciously toy with his glasses.

Quickly, you make use of him being distracted and snatch up the bread. However, he's quicker than you and grabs hold of its little plastic edge. Swiftly turning around, you try glaring at him with the little energy you have left in you. His hand stays on the loaf and so does yours and the two of you continue to stare- glare- at each other for God knows how long.

"Literally why can't you just grab another loaf of bread, pretty boy?"

It's you who speaks first, and yet you're a bit shocked that you broke the silence at all.

"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" The stranger croons, and using whatever critical thinking skills you have left, you tell him yeah, you're so good-looking and while his attention is diverted, you greedily seize the loaf of milkbread and scurry away to the counter.

The stranger gasps indignantly.

No, he actually inhales so loudly, you had to stop and do a double take. This boy- oh my God he's coming back for the bread. Mr. Stranger runs up to you and for a second you think this boy is about to start shouting. But that's not the case. What he does, is ten times worse, actually.

This random boy starts almost tearfully begging you to give him the bread. He's a head taller than you and here he is, pleading for some bread like some medieval peasant. Despite the emptiness of the store, you look around warily to see if anyone else is witnessing this pathetic man or if it's just your hallucination from a lack of sleep.

The pleas start coming out faster and faster and he literally looks like he's about to get on his knees in the middle of this old convenience store at 10p.m on a random Wednesday. It's testing your patience and your stubbornness is testing his and maybe that's why, at the same time, the two of you blurt out, "THIS LOAF HAS A SPECIAL ALIEN PRIZE STICKER!"

It's quiet after that and you're sure the poor underpaid employee is going to throw you both out the store if neither of you buys something in the next minute.

The cute stranger fucking pinches his nose, as if he's exasperated at you. He gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and tells you, "Let's ask someone if they have extras, yeah?"

They, in fact, do not.

The stranger is devastated and you hurriedly buy the little loaf of milkbread before he tries to steal it away again. He ends up buying an alienless loaf of milkbread.

The two of you exit the store quietly, and just to spite him a little, you open your loaf and flash him the little green extra-terrestrial sticker with a toothy smile.

Suddenly, it's not funny anymore. Because this boy's eyes legitimately start to water and- yeah. This child starts crying in front of you, one hand rubbing his eyes and all. Crocodile tears. Tilting your head up towards the sky, your eyes bounce from one star to the other, individually asking them why this is happening to you.

With a sigh, you shove the stupid little sticker into the boy's other hand and beg him to stop crying, oh my God, before I start crying too.

The stranger looks at you tearfully and warbles out a watery thanks before smiling softly down at the sticker and safely pocketing it into his wallet.

You're about to bid him goodnight when he asks, "Listen, I know this might be weird and probably creepy because we just met but- do you mind if I walk you home? A teenage girl walking home alone doesn't sound like such a good idea, you know?"

"Well I got here all by myself. Plus, this is a safe neighbourhood. Also, if you walked me home, you'll know where I live and that's even more dangerous."

The stranger smiles, genuinely, this time. He's quite cute when he smiles like that. You wave your hand dismissively in his general direction, basically telling him to do whatever he wants. As you walk away, you hear the sound of his footsteps catching up with you and you stop until he's by your side.

The only things that can be heard are the crinkling of the plastic bags and the sound of your footsteps and his. It's a quiet walk home, with this tall boy following you. It's silent until he starts to talk to you. And then it was never silent again.

"Okay, but think about it. Just think about it for a bit. Like I know it's totally impossible but- the moon landing, yeah? Let's say it was faked but because extra-terrestrial life was present at the same time, they shapeshifted into humans to pretend it was real!"

For the past seven and a half minutes, that's all you two talk about. Aliens. You're not really into aliens at all, to be honest. You only wanted that sticker for a scrapbook page. Although, listening to this boy talk and hearing his voice and how it lingers with barely contained enthusiasm, you don't mind so much.

"Alright, I hear you. But why though? How would helping us prove that we landed on the moon, help the aliens?"

The boy scoffs at your question, like the answer was supposed to be obvious when he says, "Well, now we owe them a favour. That's how they'll start abducting us, one-by-one."

"Ah. I hope you're first."

He clicks his tongue in retaliation and you smile at him. The conversation ends when you tell him he's safely completed his mission, because you've been delivered to your doorstep. The boy bows dramatically and, in his head, he unconsciously remembers the route to your house. Force of habit, he figures.

The stranger looks at you. His eyes are glittering and you think he must've bewitched you when he asks for your name because you're happy to give it away without a second thought. Oikawa Tooru, you learn, plays volleyball for his school team and he wanted, no, he needed that sticker as a good luck charm. That's the last thing he tells you before waving goodbye to your retreating figure. Before he gets too far, you wish him good luck for his next game, loving the way the stars illuminate the slight redness on his cheeks. Ah well, back to studying.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The second time you meet Oikawa Tooru happens almost exactly the same way. It's late, but not as late as the first time you encountered him. The sky was freckled with little lights here and there and you were much happier this time around. No longer was it midterm season and though the exhaustion from a long day at school could clearly be seen on your face, you were much more relaxed than before.

Walking into the same convenience store, you reach for a single cup noodle and some chips. It's a lazy dinner night. As you go into another aisle to grab a loaf of milkbread, your eyes light up in surprise when you someone else's hand grabs the same one.

Oikawa Tooru looks at you, his face mirroring your reaction, and the two of you won't admit it but you've both been hoping to run into each other. With his hand still on the same loaf, you hope he'll be the bigger person this time.

"C'mon Oikawa, there isn't even an alien sticker in this one."

He sighs dramatically and lets go, letting you take it. "Well, I guess I do owe you for last time."

He smiles at you then, and it's only once he's grabbed another loaf for himself that you snap out of it. He's way too cute, you grouse internally. He's not wearing his spectacles this time, but he still looks just as attractive as the last time you saw him.

Once you two buy your stuff, he looks at you like he's about to say something but you beat him to it when you ask, "So are you walking home this time around too?"

Oikawa nods and you ask again, "Even though it's not late?"

"Yeah, even then."

Yeah, he's way too cute, you think again. And as you two walk home, you decide you want to find out more about him. So you ask him which school he goes to since apparently you see him around your neighbourhood but not in your school. He tells you his best friend (Iwaizumi, or Iwa-chan) lives around here and he always stops by the store before leaving his house, and that he lives further away.

When he walks ahead of you for a bit, you notice his school jacket with the print 'AOBA JOHSAI VBC' and you exclaim, "Ah! Aoba Johsai! I know that school, yeah, your volleyball team is really good!"

You know you hit the right spot when he grins like he's holding back his pride, because his team is really good. His eyes can't lie, he loves his team and he wants you to ask him more about it, even if you have minimal knowledge about volleyball.

Oikawa fiddles with the plastic bag he's holding and your eyes suddenly take note of how red and raw his palms look. Your nose scrunches in discomfort when you ask him softly, "Were you practising? At this hour?"

He looks away from you, eyes hardening for a moment when he replies, "Yeah. I have to."

"Well, that’s not healthy. You're going to overwork yourself and I think you're too pretty for that. What if you walk home one day and you're too tired to notice giant UFO above your head, huh?"

Oikawa softens at your rambling, mumbling out a yeah, you're right, and you don't see the way he looks at you because you're too busy rummaging through your bag to take something out. If you had looked up, you'd have seen the way his eyes gleamed at your words, the way he looked at you like you said everything he needed to hear that night.

Once you finally find what you're looking for, you wave the small tube of hand cream in his face happily. With boldness you didn't know you had in you, you rub the cream into his hands. Your palms massaging his much larger ones, getting the cream into every crack of his hands, down to his wrist.

You're so focused on making sure his hands are alright that you miss the way Oikawa is absolutely flustered to the max. He's blushing, even though he'll never admit to anyone. And then suddenly he realises you've stopped your motions, because his hands have decided to interlace with yours and now both of you are an absolute mess.

"Oh- oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Oikawa stutters and you can't help but smile cheekily at the way he stutters. You're so lost in the way he's being so shy that you don't even realise you've already made it home.

Oikawa scratches his cheek nervously and tells you he can't wait for the next convenience store meeting. When he's about to leave, you tell him good luck for his next game again, just like last time. And you say, "Goodnight, Oikawa Tooru," loving the way he says it back and you're glad the stars have charted this in their memory.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The third time you meet Oikawa, you don't actually meet him.

Of course, it happens in the same small convenience store. While walking through the aisles of the store, you catch a glimpse of that teal green jacket and brown fluffy hair that you'd recognise anywhere. Or at least you think you recognise.

Feeling cheeky, you go up to him and tap him on the shoulder, "Oikawa! Seems like the aliens led you to me again."

It is decidedly not Oikawa Tooru that turns around to look at you quizzically. Yahaba Shigeru feels slightly proud that someone mistook him for his captain. You, however, feel like dying right there and then. The awkwardness of the situation catches up with him and you start stuttering out apologies, trying to leave as fast as you can.

Yahaba smiles at you kindly and exits the store. From a distance you can hear him call out, "Oikawa," and you already know who to expect when the store bell jingles soon after.

Oikawa Tooru stands in front of you, breathless (flawless) and looking right at you. A stupid smirk makes his way across his face when he practically preens, "You really thought my sweet little junior was me?"

The sad face emoticon can be heard from the way he says that and you love the way he rolls his eyes when you tell him that he and Yahaba look identical from the back. Someone from outside calls his name and he looks back out at them before looking back at you.

"I'm afraid I can't walk you home this time. Though, I'm sure someone like you can make it back safely." And he waves at you, seemingly making his exit when he hesitantly turns around to face you again. It's not noticeable, not really, but his ears are slightly red when he walks closer to you and pulls out a pen from his pocket.

Oikawa's eyes meet yours and he reaches out to take your arm and starts scribbling something on your arm. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise when you realise it's his number. Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek, his heart's racing but he tries to play it cool when he breathes, "Maybe now I won't have to use this store as an excuse to see you."

He leaves after capping the pen and you're still in absolute shock at the move he just pulled. You're also very impressed and even more endeared when you see his teammates slapping him on the back outside the store as they walk away. Glancing down at the mess of numbers, you can't hold back the grin that makes its way across your face.

Pulling out your phone, you input his number immediately. Setting his contact as 'cute alien guy 👽🏐', you send the first text to him, not shocked at all anymore when he replies two seconds later.

hello alien man HIIIII!!!!!!!

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Ever since the first time you texted him, you haven't stopped. Oikawa texts you during class, even though you don't always reply. He texts you during break and in between practise and you text him just as much too. He's practically your online best friend at this point. He knows all your gossip and you know all of his. Like:

this bitch in my chemistry class thinks she’s better than me >:// DO YOU WANT ME TO GET MAD DOG TO SPIKE A VOLLEYBALL INTO HER DUMB BUS SHAPED HEADASS?

Things start to progress between you and him soon. A month into texting, he tells you he has an upcoming game.

hey. i got a game coming up on like tuesday at 4 if you wanna come (((o(*°▽°*)o))) actually ykw i'm not even gonna deny it, i'd love if u came (⊙_⊙) FR?? yeah of course i'm coming!! stfu as if you didn't know i'd say yes right away

Oikawa sends another dumb emoticon afterwards and you won't tell him but you scream into your pillow in excitement. And he won't tell you but he yells in triumph so loud that his sister throws a volleyball at his head.

You don't expect to see so many fangirls for him when you make your way into the stands of the Aoba Johsai gym. There are practically infinite rows of girls whining out, "Oikawa!!!" and you kind of knew he was popular, but it's still so... jarring.

You push your way to the front of the stands but there's so many people crowding you that you doubt he sees you anyway. Quickly taking a picture of a peace sign with him in the background, you send him a text so he knows you're there. He won't see it anytime soon but you send it anyway, captioning it with rooting 4u!! if u lose the aliens won't take u >:O.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him walk to the bench to look at his phone. Oikawa smiles at his phone and he looks up you, his eyes catching yours and he grins and your breath catches in your throat because he saw you. And when his focus shifts back to the court, you're eternally glad that you're not standing opposite him because his eyes have a certain glint to them and it's then that you find out how menacing his grin can become. His opponents know it and you know it, that Oikawa Tooru can be absolutely fucking frightening when he wants to be, and you've never wanted anyone to win more in your life than now.

Oikawa Tooru takes a deep breath. He glances at his shoes, he lets the ball sink into his palm and he knows you won't believe it but he swears he can hear you over the crowd. He hears the whistle blow and he bounces the ball once, then twice, before running and flying. He's practically airborne, you swear it, and his jump serve makes a ricocheting noise so loud it bounces in your body. He wins the first point.

By the time the second set ends, in Aoba Johsai's favour, you're pretty sure you've lost your voice from how hard you've been cheering. You don't really care though, the only thought that consumes your mind is the fact that he won. Well, his team won.

Oikawa smiles as he wipes down his face, he saw the way his phone periodically lighted up throughout the match. You basically texted him as if you were the match's commentator. And if you stayed until the end, you'd have felt it yourself, the way his cheeks ached from laughing so hard.

Oikawa doesn't ask you why you walked home without him. He knows you know he'd want to celebrate with his teammates, but he wouldn't have minded if you wanted to be selfish. He wouldn't have minded if you wanted to join him. He wouldn't have minded if you wanted to monopolise him for a bit.

Before your eyes succumb to sleep that night, your phone lights up once and you fall asleep dreaming of one boy.

thanks 4 cheering me on. could hear you all the way from the stands to the court. only you (⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠(⁠^⁠ ⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠/

What a player. There's no way he could hear you, the crowd was too loud for that. You reply with a simple '<3' anyway.

Ever since the first match, Oikawa tells you about every other match and even invites you randomly to hang out with him. You go and see him play whenever you're available, and you start to get more comfortable with his friends too.

The first time you meet his best friend, you can immediately tell that they hold each other together. Two sides of the same coin. And when Iwaizumi pays for your meal, you decide you like him even more. When Iwaizumi tells you all about Oikawa’s embarrassing childhood events, much to Oikawa’s whining and pleading not to, you decide that Iwaizumi is one of the best people you’ve ever met.

Oikawa slowly introduces you to his whole team once you and him have become proper friends. You meet Hanamaki and Matsukawa randomly on a cold night in a hotpot restaurant and you immediately decide they're your favorite in the group. That night, Oikawa fights everyone with his chopsticks, knocking his against theirs to let you get all the good meat.

Oikawa also finds out about your scrapbook and collects every sticker he sees for it. He peels off the sticker on his onigiri packets and tears off the stickers he finds on his classmate’s desks and pastes them on your arm whenever he’s with you. Your sticker collection grows a lot because of him, not that you’re complaining. And one time, you make the mistake of telling him that your class was going to have a karaoke party, to celebrate the end of a school year. And oh, what a coincidence, he shows up there as well with the entire seijoh team. They would never snitch on their captain but you know he planned all of it. That night, you and him do a duet of every single High School Musical song, fighting over who gets to be Troy and Gabriella.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

It sneaks up on you. Brushing over your shoulders so lightly that you don't notice it until it happens; your third and final year.

It's one cold January night when your phone pings with an ominous text from Tooru (you call him that now). Your eyebrows furrow as you read his text and you laugh lightly at it.

coming over rn.

It's quite late but you're sure he's already outside of his house. Waiting for him, you sit on the steps outside your house. Rubbing you palms together and watching the way your breath floats in the air.

In a few minutes, you hear him before you see him. The pitter-patter of his footsteps as he jogs, the way his breath comes out harsh and ragged like he sprinted here (he did).

Above, the sky seems starless but you know they're there. They always are, whenever he's with you. Oikawa Tooru and the stars come in a package, you never see one without the other.

Anyway, here comes a freshly out of practice, out of breath and an absolutely elated looking Oikawa Tooru. The moment he sees you walking towards him, he starts running and then all you know is warmth and the way his arms are long enough to engulf you completely.

"I- I fucking made team captain. Coach just suddenly pulled me aside after practice and said they made me captain. Oh my God, they think- I'm the captain. Holy shit, I'm the fucking team captain."

Your eyes start to water at the way he sounds breathless. Not just because he ran all the way here but because he sounds like he's in disbelief. His voice, breathy and in awe, rings in your ears and you wonder why he sounded so unsure. As if everyone doesn't know how fucking hard he works, as if everyone doesn't know he deserves to be captain.

You're ecstatic for him. Your hands grip the back of his jacket so tightly that you're afraid it's going to tear. And when he pulls away, just far enough to look at your face, his eyes are shining and if you look close enough, you can see the moon reflected in its glassiness.

"Did you run all the way here to tell me that? You could've just called," you chide, not because you didn't want to see him but 'cause you know he's probably tired from practice.

Tooru looks at you, tilting his head the way he does when he can't figure out a math problem. His eyes soften imperceptibly and he bites the inside of his cheek so hard to keep himself from kissing you when he exhales, "You were the only person I wanted to tell. And, I wanted to see you."

Tooru let's go of you then. But he doesn't go home, not yet. He sits with you on the steps of your house. And even though you're cold, you're happy to sit with him. You'd stay freezing all your life if it meant you could always have him with you.

Tooru lets his body heat seep into you while he talks about everything and nothing all at once. He tells you about the stars and how he's scared about not being able to lead his team to the best of his ability. You tell him that he doesn't need to worry about that and asks him to tell you more about the stars.

Tooru exhales, let's the tension in his body go slack. He goes on then, telling you how it's not like he's going to study astrophysics or anything like that. Ever since he was little, he's simply been unusually in love with everything that's out of this world. It's why he's in love with you after all, not that he'll tell you anytime soon.

And it's not only the stars, he talks about space and the planets and he talks your ear off about different galaxies and the possibilities of endless alternate universes and you wish upon every single star that time would stop so you could listen to him go on for hours.

Once he leaves, after hugging you one more time and after you congratulate him once more, you let his words replay in your head.

You're the only one I wanted to tell.

Oh.

It's something so simple and yet you know, you both do. That's the moment you start to fall.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The whistle blows. The echo of the resounding smack of a volleyball rings in your ears. The ball falls into Aoba Johsai's court, and Tooru's team loses by two points.

The opposing team, (ushiwaka's team), looked like a tough match from the start and your chest tightens at the redness of Tooru's eyes when he begrudgingly shakes the other team's hand.

You can't see it very clearly, but you can tell how much Tooru's beating himself up over this. As the newly appointed captain, it's a hundred times tougher for him this time to deal with the loss.

Your hands are jittery as you wait for him outside his school gates. You've always walked to the station with him ever since he made captain, so you figure it wouldn't be any different this time. He calls out your name as he approaches you, looking bone weary. All locked jaws with eyes dull but still burning.

Half-heartedly, he smiles at you and thanks you for waiting. You don't say anything yet, afraid you might set him off somehow.

It's quiet as you walk beside him. The remnants of his loss lingering in the space between his body and yours. He says, very softly, like he's ashamed to admit that, "I tried my hardest. My team tried their fucking best yet we never seem to win against Shiratorizawa."

Your eyes can't seem to meet his. He keeps looking away from you and it's making it harder for you to say anything consoling. When you try, he snaps at you.

"Tooru, there's still a few more months to keep trying. You've still got a chance to beat him!"

Tooru scoffs at your words. And you try again but he cuts you off. His words cold and sharp, "What the fuck would you know."

He stops walking. He looks at you with wide eyes like he's surprised at what just came out of his mouth. You wave it off and even though he apologises, his words silently sting. You're well aware that he said those things because he's frustrated with his loss, but it hurts all the same. It's awkward then.

When you enter the train, he doesn’t wave goodbye to you as you leave, he doesn't even look at you at all. Somehow, that's the worst part.

The same achey feeling festers even more when he doesn't text you at all over the next few days. After three missed good morning texts, you finally start spamming his phone. It's an unusual switch, for you to be the one texting him first and this rapidly. But unfortunately, he still doesn't answer.

Disappointment weighs heavily in the pit of your stomach when he doesn't show up at the convenience store either. You don't normally frequent it daily but you thought maybe if you did then there'd be a chance to meet him, but he's never there.

When a whole week and a half passes, you finally decide to see him yourself. You don't really care that he's so hell bent on avoiding you. You miss your friend, you miss Tooru and his stupid emoticons and his dumb jokes and the way he laughs with his whole chest.

Walking into his practice session, you expect to see him talking to his team or practising receives. You don't expect to see him all smiles and rosy cheeks. You definitely wouldn't have expected to see a girl you've never seen before all over him.

Okay, she's just handing him a water bottle but whatever. Maybe the way he's smiling is forced too but again, whatever. Huffing and turning around, you walk out of the gym not two seconds later. You shouldn't have bothered, he's clearly all buddy-buddy with someone else, and he's clearly feeling fine so you shouldn't have worried in the first place.

Whatever.

At the same time, Iwaizumi, ever the wingman, sees you glaring holes in the back of Oikawa's head. He laughs softly before spiking a volleyball at his best friend's head. Hard enough for said best friend to fall forward and yell. Iwaizumi grins slyly and points in the direction you just left in.

"Shittykawa. The girl you won't shut the fuck up about just left."

"Shit. Thanks, Iwa-chan."

Oikawa Tooru thanks the setting sun for the first time that his coach makes him run like hell every practise. His athleticism pays off for once as he dashes for you. How you're walking so fast, he has no idea. The only thing he knows is that he has to catch up to you.

He does. Of course he does. He'd run around the moon to get you, and he'd do it in a heartbeat.

When you're finally within his reach, he spins you around to make you face him. He's barely panting but it's obvious he's been running. Without waiting for him to speak, you jerk out of his touch to snap, "You know. If you wanted to ignore me and make me feel like shit, congratulations. You did it."

Oikawa's face falls. You don't wait for his response and continue walking towards the station. Oikawa follows and spins you around again before you can get away again.

He puts his hands in front of him, begging you to wait. He sweeps his fingers through his hair nervously before babbling, "I'm sorry. I- It was stupid for me to ignore you like that. I kept over practising and then Iwa-chan had to literally drag me off the court the past seven days and I know that isn't an excuse not to talk to you but I couldn't handle talking to anyone. And I know that isn't a good enough reason to hurt you like that but- I was scared. I didn't wanna accidentally say something stupid like when I snapped you the night I lost against Ushiwaka."

"So, you thought isolating yourself from me was the best solution?" You deadpan, putting aside the desire to chastise him for overexerting himself again.

"Yeah. I'm a bit of an idiot like that."

Rolling your eyes, you push past him. "Hm, I can tell. Whatever. Glad we cleared that up. Have fun with your new girlfriend, or whatever."

Oikawa balks. His eyes do that Loony Tunes popping motion at your words. He watches you walk away for a second, a satisfied grin spreads its way across his stupid smug face. He catches up to you and spins you around again, and you almost punch him for looking so happy.

"You're jealous."

"Fuck off."

"You're jealous. And also, stupid. But I guess we're both stupid then. Anyway, she's just a fan. I don't even know her name."

Squinting, "She was all up in your space, Oikawa"

Oikawa's grin dims when you revert back to using his last name. Though, he supposes he deserves it for ignoring you. He tries again, placing both palms on your shoulders gently, gauging whether you'll let him or not. You do, and he takes it as a sign to carry on.

Oikawa looks at you like you're everything he's ever wanted, and then he says, "There's nothing to be jealous of. I don't care for her. I don't know her at all. I don't know her like you. I'm sure she wouldn't fight over an alien sticker with me. I don't think she looks at the stars whenever she's particularly sad, because she knows the darker the nights seem, the brighter the stars shine. I don't think she hated how corny she sounded when she told me that."

Oikawa breathes in and exhales unsteadily when he barrels on, "I don't think she'd sit with me in the freezing cold just to talk. And, I really, really, don't think she'd come all the way to my court just to see me if I ignored her for a week. No, I don't think I'd be so disastrously interested in anyone unless they did all those things."

The world keeps spinning on its axis. It doesn't stop turning, but it sure fucking feels like it. As you take in his words, you don't know if you've breathed even once. Your heart beats so loudly, you think it overshadows the sound of the incoming train.

Oikawa holds your gaze still, eyes soft and waiting, and you want to reply but the train comes. So, quite cruelly, you leave him on the platform and hope he doesn't notice how your face feels like it's burning. You tell him you'll text him and try to forget about how disappointed he looks as the train speeds off.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

You don't text him. It's not that you don't reciprocate his feelings, because obviously you do. You absolutely like him back, no, it's more than that even. You love the way his feathery hair falls into his eyes when he nods too enthusiastically, you love the way his eyes light up whenever he figures out a new way to improve his plays and you love how caring and considerate he is for his teammates. You love the way he never seems to falter, how he's steady as a rock and how he's the embodiment of the word 'hardwork'.

Yet, even with all those feelings, you're terrified of telling him. You don't think he'd reject you, and maybe that's why you're so afraid. Because you're not sure he's meant to be with someone like you. Someone of your calibre.

It's not like you're so horrifically insecure but you just think maybe he won't shine as bright as he could with you weighing him down. In the back of your mind, you can hear Hanamaki's voice saying, "It's really not that deep, girl-" but you cut it off instantly.

Apart from that, there's no real concrete reason why you don't text him back. Maybe it's the fear and anxiety and the fact that you don't know how long the two of you will last and the thought of being so irrevocably in love with him just for it to fall apart sooner or later? That thought scares you the most, the fact that- unlike the stars, which are infinitely present- the two of you are not a permanent fixture.

Your overthinking does not stop Oikawa Tooru from being insane though. It seems Iwaizumi was right when he called Oikawa petty and the biggest sore loser, because he decidedly does not like or care for a taste of his own medicine. What with the way he's been blowing up your phone.

Oikawa has been tossing and turning every night you don't talk to him. He thinks about how this is how you must've felt when he did the same thing to you and it makes him even more restless. He picks up his phone to try you again.

His neverending texts range in severity and you're not sure how long you can keep him away. See the following:

omg PLS text me back (〃＞＿＜;〃) hey, if you don't wanna talk about what I said, it's totally fine with me. just talk 2 me :( MF ISTG,, if you don't txt me back rn, I'll manifest your alien abduction ☆ｏ(＞＜；)○ i can literally SEE you reading these messages, please text me back.

It keeps on going. Oikawa has never known when to give up. He'll keep trying until you respond. He's also known to be very impatient and after a week passes by, he decides he will not stand for this. He won't let your radio silence deter him. He won't let this chance slip away, he won't.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

On the seventh night of your Oikawa Tooru strike, you're rudely awoken to the sound of your bedroom window rattling. You were always warned to lock your window at night because having a room on the ground floor would be easier to break into. Man, you should have listened.

Snatching your phone from its charger, you shine the torchlight at whoever it is. Unfortunately, the light shines directly into Oikawa's eyes, causing him to loosen the grip he has on your sliding window. He yelps and the window grille falls on his back, and the two of you stare at each other until he breaks the silence.

His eyes dart back and forth from your look of incredulity to anywhere else in the room.

"I just kinda feel like we're meant to be together. I mean look at how the universe keeps throwing us at each other!"

"It's 3 in the morning and you're stuck in my window. How did you even get there?"

"The universe, I just told you. Aren't you listening?"

At the way his voice lilts, you can't help but crack a smile. Damn it, you've missed him so much. It's only been a week but it feels like so much longer.

Oikawa pulls himself out from your window and stands on the other side of it, looking at you expectantly. You're about to go and apologise for your behaviour when he cuts in to tell you to follow him. He asks you, "Do you trust me?"

"Who are you? Aladdin?" You reply snarkily, but take his hand anyway, and let him pull you into the night. You don't even question where he's taking you.

He makes sure he gets you out safely and then he starts walking. He doesn't say anything about the way you trail slightly behind him instead of how you usually walk next to him. He knows you're sorry, he can see it in the way your eyes shift each time he tries to meet yours. He can see it in the way you laugh softly at his stupid jokes even though they're not that funny. He can see it in the way you keep trying to apologise but you can't get the words out so instead, you let him talk the entire time.

And talk Oikawa does. He speaks to you about everything he did in the week you didn't talk. He fills you in on the gaps in his life that you missed and it feels like you weren't absent at all.

"I finally got the timing for Kyoutani's quick right. And during break, Hanamaki dared Matsukawa to eat twelve pieces of Oreos at once, and then they both threw up. Hanamaki did 'cause he saw matsukawa do it first. Iwa-chan spiked three volleyballs at me this week."

You reply periodically and laugh at the right timings, but your heart isn't fully in the conversation. You're sure Oikawa can pick up on that, but you're grateful that he doesn't comment on it. Halfway through the journey to wherever he's taking you, he stops by your convenience store.

"Wait here!" He exclaims, and then five minutes later he comes out with a bag filled with snacks. Oh— it's all your favourite snacks and the guilt comes back full force.

The wind blows past you, and strands of your flyaway hair falls into your eyes. Oikawa reaches out and tucks your hair behind your ear, and you think he's the prettiest boy you've ever known. Another gust of wind blows past, hard enough for it to make the swing set in front of you creak and sway. It turns out that he's brought you to a playground in your neighbourhood.

You've been here before. Not with him, but you've been here nonetheless. When you were small and not worried if Oikawa Tooru was going to break your heart. It's an irrational fear, because Oikawa Tooru would rather shoot a hole in the moon itself than commit such a crime.

Oikawa walks towards swings. He sits on the left, and you on the right. He hands you the box of Pocky he bought. Both of you slowly kick off the ground, swaying slowly in the night. The streetlamp flickers and the sound of crickets drown out the sound of your munching.

Tooru (you want to call him that again) turns to you and stares, waiting for you to explain yourself. It's hard to do that while he's looking at you so intensely, so you slowly stop swinging and choose to look at the colourful ground instead.

There still isn't a concrete reason for ignoring him, at least nothing you can put into words just yet. So that's where you start, you suppose.

"It wasn't like I was ignoring you. If anything, I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter what I did."

Tooru stops swinging too. He's so confused , "You can't just ghost me every time you need space. If you want space, just tell me and I'll give it to you. Ignoring me like that was really shitty."

"Yeah, well. You're one to talk."

"And I apologised, didn't I? I'm still waiting for yours."

Biting back a frustrated groan, you stay silent. God, you hate this, you were supposed to talk things out. Not fight even more. Suddenly, the reality of it all hits you like a punch to the gut. This was what you were afraid of. Making him mad, being bad at communication, the two of you just don't fit and now he's annoyed at you and-

Tooru looks at the sky and sighs. He gets up when you stay quiet and takes your hand to drag you to the talking tube. It connects one end of the play area to the other. He brings you to one end, makes a motion with his hand that means stay there and then he walks to the other end of the talking tube. He sits down on the ground because he’s practically twice the height of the tube.

His voice echoes through the playground speaker. He asks, ‘Hey? Can you hear me?’

You hum in answer and then he clears his throat and says, “You know, I like the moon. I like space and I like the galaxies. I like memorising the names of different constellations and I like the stars. And, I like you."

"I like everything about anything that's outside of earth but none of those things compare to you. Not the stars, not the moon, not any other planet and not even aliens. You're the only cosmic element I'm in love with, for now and for forever."

He takes a breath and you’re surprised you can hear it through the old worn out tubes. He goes on, "And I'm sorry if that scares you but you're gonna have to deal with it. So, either tell me you don't love me back, and we can forget I ever said anything. Or tell me what I think you're gonna say, because I may be an idiot, but I like to believe I'm not entirely stupid.”

He's right. You hate how intuitive he is, because of course he knows. Sitting criss-cross on the ground, you let your forehead rest against the metallic rim of the tube.

"You're right. I do like you. It's more than that, but Tooru- I'm so scared."

Your eyes find comfort in the space above you, as they always do. It dawns upon you just how tiny the two of you are in this endless universe. If Tooru's so insignificant in the vastless galaxy, even when he glows as bright as he does, then you're even less than that. You lean back down onto the tube.

Fiddling with your fingers, you whisper, "In a few months, we’re gonna graduate and you’re gonna go somewhere amazing and be you know- all you, and I’m just, I think I’m just going to stay here. Probably. Anyway, I'm not someone you should be with, you know. You're- you're gonna go out there and be great and I'm just. I'm just, me. I know I'm not making any sense but like, see, I don't know anything about volleyball, so it's not like I could help you with- with the one thing I know you try your hardest at. Tooru, I like you, a lot, but I don't really think we're meant to fit."

Oikawa Tooru has heard many stupid things in the sixteen years he's been alive. He hangs around Hanamaki and Matsukawa for God's sake, but the nonsense that just came from you might be dumber than anything he's ever heard. He inhales, and then with a burst of breath, he echoes in a voice that’s much too loud for the time of night, ‘Bullshit.’

The volume makes you wince. Sucking the air between your teeth, you rub your ears and look over at him in annoyance. Your irritated look does nothing but make him smile, and he walks over to you. Tooru looks down at you.

Next, Tooru's scowling at you. Just like he did the first time you met him. It really hits you then, just how much time has passed since he came into your life. He makes a sound that gets stuck in his throat, something in between a scoff and a gasp.

"That's actually the dumbest thing you've said so far tonight. First of all, you still haven't apologised. Second of all, you don't like me, you're clearly in love with me," and then he waves three fingers in front of your face, 'and third of all, everything you just said is irrelevant."

You start to get up then, indignant, but Tooru beats you to it and crouches down to your level. When he's this close, you can count the freckles and spots on his cheeks and if you connect all the dots, you'd be able to form constellations. When he's this close, it's hard to pretend like you don't want to pull him in by his shirt just to wipe the audacity off his face.

"Everything you just said, everything, is irrelevant. I don't care if you’re going to stay here. I don’t care if I’m going somewhere three hours away or a plane flight away, I don't care. I love you. I’m going to- no, we’re gonna make this work. And it’s not ‘we can’ make this work, we’re going to make this work, because you and me? It's written in the stars actually, the aliens told me themselves."

This time, the world really does stop spinning. You have no idea if your lungs work or not, maybe it's that Tooru stole your breath, but you can't seem to breathe right. It's always a little hard to breath when Tooru's near you. Your head wraps around what he just said and you wish something would come out of your mouth.

Tooru sees your struggle and huffs, laying down flat on his back beside you. He looks up, away from you, but slowly reaches out his arm towards you to pull your hand down to his lips. He kisses your palm once, and mutters so softly, "And I wish you didn't talk about yourself like that. You're not someone I should be with? You're the only one I want to be with. If you think we're not meant to be, that's fine. I'd choose you myself each time anyway."

For once, you're the one holding his gaze. But he takes the same hand you're holding and places it over his eyes before continuing, "If I had to choose between a million things I love and you, I'd always fucking pick you. And I don't care that I can't talk to you about volleyball, that's why I have a team. Just coming to every game you can is more than enough for me. Look, I believe that everyone has one great love of their life and I'm telling you, you're mine."

At that, you inhale sharply. Tooru removes your hand from your face and instead, grasps it in his and places it over his chest. He starts talking again, and maybe he's trying to knock you out when he says, "I am not gonna let you throw us away before you even give us a chance. So, there you go, I cleared up all your doubts, haven't I? The only thing stopping us from being together right now, is yourself. So why don’t you save us the trouble and tell me you’re in love with me already."

Taking your tongue between your teeth, you bite down to stop yourself from beaming just yet. Letting his confession wash over you, the more it starts to make sense. You and him. You should be more confident in yourself. After all, you're the one he came running to when he made captain. You're the one he texts all night long even when he has morning practise. If anything, the only thing that doesn’t make sense in this whole thing, is the fact the two of you aren’t already dating.

Fuck your commitment issues.

Swinging a leg over him, both your kneecaps bracket his waist. You lean over him with your forearms on the ground and whisper, ‘Okay, you win. I love you. I love your stupid face and the way you talk about space and how passionate you are about volleyball," your voice breaks, "and- and I love you even though you always overwork yourself and you never think you’re good enough. I love you, and I always think you’re more than enough and I’m still really scared about us but 'm gonna try anyway 'cause I know it’ll be worth it."

By the time you're done speaking, you're winded onece again. Tooru, however, is all wide eyes and rosy cheeks and red ears, and then he grins so fucking wide that you're sure his mouth must ache afterwards.

The reflection of the moon disappears as his eyes crease and he brings a hand up towards your face to pull you down. Right before he kisses you, he murmurs, ‘that’s my girl,’ and then he closes the distance.

Everyone says not to expect too much for your first kiss. But they’ve never had a first kiss with Oikawa Tooru, and if you can help it, they never will. Tooru kisses like he speaks; languidly, sweet, and to the point.

His lips brush against yours, feather light at first and then harder. He brings a hand up to the back of your neck, pressing you harder against himself until you’re practically smashed up against him.

He pulls away for a bit and you chase after him but he flips you over so that he’s the one above you this time. He leans back down and it feels like everything is okay again. He has a hand on the back of your head, pushing you closer to him. Every doubt, every insecurity and everything you were afraid of gets erased with a single kiss.

When he holds you close like this, it’s hard to think about what you were scared of in the first place, because how could you have been so fearful of something that feels so fucking right?

Unfortunately, the need for air surpasses the longing to keep kissing him and you pull away to catch your breath. He rests his forehead against yours and whispers, “Thank you for giving us a chance.”

Laughing into him, letting your giddiness pour into his mouth, you say, “I never stood a chance, not against you. You knew you’d have me, Tooru. You’re a winner after all.”

He hums noncommittally, "You’re right about that," and kisses you again. With his lips on yours, open-mouthed and pressing down, you come to understand what the movies meant by 'seeing stars'.

When the sky grumbles and flickers, Tooru pulls away. He had to bring you home sometime. He gets up first before pulling you up as well. Up close again, you can tell that his lips mirror yours; wet and raw and loved.

He doesn't have to say he's walking you home. It's an unspoken agreement now that he's your boyfriend. As you walk home with him, his hands never once let go of yours. Your hand swings casually with his as the two of you walk as slow as possible back to your house, trying to prolong the journey as much as possible, taking every detour possible and laughing at nothing.

"Tomorrow, you're going to buy me dinner for ghosting me. And then I'll buy us dessert because I'll feel bad for ordering the most expensive item on the menu."

"Sounds good. Here’s a better plan— how about we just dine and dash?"

Tooru giggles into your hair at that. As you both approach your bedroom window, a thought comes into your mind like an unwanted rat and you immediately verbalise it to him.

"When you said it didn't matter if you were a plane flight away… does that mean you’re definitely not staying here?"

He whips his head around to face you, eyes shining with barely restrained glee, "I've always known I wanted to go overseas to play. Maybe not immediately after we graduate, but... soon. And I kept that in mind when I said we're going to make this work. And you agreed, so no take backsies!"

Despite his excitement reflecting onto you, your worries and doubts start to resurface unwillingly, "Okay, but wouldn’t it be hard to focus on us and going pro at the same time? Tooru, I can’t stand the thought of being a burden to you. what if you-"

He doesn't let you finish, doesn't let that thought spiral into a million other things. He cuts you off with a simple press of his lips against yours. Kisses you against your window until you're silent and doesn't let you speak until your heart calms down.

When he pulls away, the streetlight lightens up his eyes and the stars illuminate his face, it makes his hazel eyes dance. He rests his forehead against yours and tells you with a steady voice, with full certainty, “You’re worth it. You’re worth everything to me.”

Oikawa Tooru’s kisses taste like starlight and his words ground you better than gravity ever could and somehow, he gave you his whole universe without even trying.

#oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #fluff #humour #angst #hurt/comfort #oikawa #tooru oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa x you #haikyuu #hq!!#hq fics

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ventiskies · 4 years ago

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When he rejects you | Chongyun, Scaramouche, Albedo

a/n: hello friends!! i apologize for my somewhat disappearance TwT im currently having exam season but i couldnt help but write something for my favorite three (and yes, scara is there... and honestly, I don't know when I started simping for him either but you can now call me a future scaramouche haver >:)) so not a request, but do enjoy !! <3 (apologies if there are any errors!!)

pairing: chongyun x gn! reader, scaramouche x gn! reader, albedo x gn! reader (platonic)

Chongyun

★ Chongyun, Xingqiu and you had been best friends since you were kids. And although you were a trio, you and Chongyun had always known each other much longer.

★ If your life were a book, it would be a sweet childhood best friends growing up together genre, something that often piqued Xingqiu’s interests when he drags the two of you to Wanwen bookhouse

★ The books you had borrowed from Xingqiu about them all ended with the same thing; that they end up becoming a couple and growing up together. Reminiscing about their childhood youth when they were old.

★ You knew not to trust the books or use them as a guide, but just like the books, you had grown to fall in love with the icy-haired boy.

★ Chongyun was like a breath of fresh air. His determination in exorcising ‘evil spirits' to the point that he blindly falls for Xingqiu and your pranks were the things that you loved about him. He was filled with enthusiasm and positivity (literally).

★ You grew into enjoying his positive attitude, you couldn't imagine a day going by without Chongyun telling you and Xingqiu about a so called 'haunted' place he had found, and forcing the two of you to come with him. and even if it had ended without meeting a single spirit, he would still be in high spirits.

★ you loved it, seeing the rush of thrill he feels whenever he senses a spirit nearby, hoping the spirit was able to withstand his excessive yang energy. the repeating days without one successful exorcism, only to end up getting treated to a meal by Xingqiu, and the parting that always ends with a promise to see each other the day after. Chongyun speaks his emotions, and you were in love with that.

★ and him, just in general.

★ And one day, you had decided to tell him just that

★ You were both on the hunt for Jueyun chilies for Xiangling, a small commission that you had decided to take on while waiting for Xingqiu to finish his work at the guild. The sun had set, and you had returned from Qingce village with a bucket full of the chilies and had decided to rest on top of the mountain where you had both Waypointed to just to admire the sunset.

★ In the heat of the moment, you had spoken.

“I like you, Chongyun,” you had said, looking at him with a smile.

★ You would have accepted a silence. You had expected it to be like the books; he would gently laugh and look at you, admitting that he had been waiting for you to say the exact words, lean in to kiss you. It would be awkward at first, but it’ll also be something to look back to in the future when kissing becomes something you do every day. You’d return back to Liyue Harbor hand in hand, and be able to tell Xingqiu and Xiangling that he was your boyfriend now, and admit to the former that maybe his books were right.

★ But instead, you were met with Chongyun’s wide eyes staring at you. His cheeks flushed red with what you had tried hard to hope was shyness, but had appealed more like panic. He had stood up and cleared his throat

“We- we should get back,” he says, too quickly for someone as calm as he is. And you knew it was a wrong step, “I’m-,” he clears his throat, “I’m going to go ahead first. I'm sorry,”

★ You didn’t know if he was apologizing for leaving early, or for not being able to accept your feelings, but when you hadn't seen him the following day, you could only assume.

Scaramouche

★ Honestly, you had it coming for you.

★ Scaramouche is someone whose life is their job. There was nothing that could distract him from working for the Tsaritsa

★ You had (been self-entitled) as his best friend. And honestly, if Scaramouche knew of it, he doesn't blame you. Everyone in the Fatui and who worked under the Fatui knew how close you were. Which was odd because, for one, you were absolutely nothing like him. Although you weren't exactly liked by everyone, you weren't loathed by everyone like the sixth harbinger was.

★ Scaramouche was feared by anyone who hears his name or walks a foot away from him, while you carried a calmer aura. Without glancing, Scaramouche could bring his subordinates trembling, while they would greet you when you pass by them.

★ You were polar opposites, and yet, everyone has seen the two of you together so much that when he wasn't with you or the other way around, people would assume you were on a solo mission or just leaving the other’s quarters

★ Of course, being his best friend, you weren’t spared of his usual harsh words. As a matter of fact, you probably had it much worse than anyone else. It had almost seemed as if every time he spoke, he spoke like he was trying to get rid of you.

★ But if that really were the case, then he hasn’t been trying his best. You had stayed with him since you had become an ally to the Fatui, and ever since then had stayed by his side. When others shake in fear, you shake your head with a laugh and a retort.

★ It had even come as a surprise to you when you had realized you had fallen for the harbinger. You would think that spending time with such a foul-mouthed person who would murder someone in the blink of an eye with no hesitation would make you dislike him. But that didn’t happen.

★ In fact, it was quite the opposite. You had fallen in love with him.

★ It wasn’t obvious to anyone, and even you had to take the time to squint to look for it. But Scaramouche did care for you in his own way. Whether it be toning down the harsh words when he sees your mood dampen after a mission, or beating the shit out of a person who had attacked you ruthlessly, not stopping even after his hands were covered in crimson liquid and the person almost certainly died. Even if he calls you a hindrance afterward for dirtying his hands, he definitely thought of you the same as you thought of him.

★ A friend.

★ Or, you had hoped, something more.

★ It was a mistake to take his slight kindness as a sign of him liking you, it truly was.

★ During your journey to Inazuma for a mission, you had decided to confess to him out of the blue. You knew he was someone who could predict the outcome of something even before you said anything, so a slow confession when the sun was setting in a field of flowers would just be a waste of time. if there was something you learned, it's to cut to the chase with him.

“Hey Scara,” you had said quietly. He had replied with a low hum, not turning back to look at you, “I like you.”

★ Without a second thought, Scaramouche had taken you by surprise as well.

★ He had not stopped in his tracks, instead, his shoulders shook in laugher. His laugh wasn't the same laugh you hear whenever you make a stupid mishap or get slightly injured during a simple mission- no, those laughs were warmer. Although laced with unkindness, they were more familiar.

★ This one was condescending. As if you were a new recruit again, having to work under him. As if all those years as friends had just gone down the drain.

“Stupid. What a fool of me to assume you were different.” he says, voice clear as a bell in the night, “don’t be an inconvenience. I don't have time for people like you.”

Albedo

★ Ever since working under Albedo with Sucrose, your life had been nothing but full of wonder. Although some were dangerous, Albedo and you bonded easily as if you had worked together in a past life.

★ Albedo was a genius. He was someone you looked up to, and sometime during your investigations, he had become a friend. You didn't know when it started. When it had gone from two alchemists staying the night in Dragonspine to observe the different stages of new plant growth, to- with the permission of the acting grandmaster - just two people, two friends, going out to explore the seven nations.

★ Sucrose and Timaeus had stayed back in Mondstadt to finish experiments that you both had decided to put on hold for your trip, and with nothing to worry about, the two of you had gone out with nothing but the protection of each other (and your visions, of course), and a few packed meals from Good Hunter.

★ Albedo had a side that no one saw unless they spent nights camping with him in the middle of nowhere. You were one of the lucky people who were able to see that side of his during your trips around the seven.

★ The alchemist wasn't just curious about the way the world works, he had also been curious with, well, you.

★ Some nights when he couldn't go to sleep (which was often. You’d be surprised to see how messed up his sleep schedule was), he would sit in front of the fire you had both worked hard to make, and simply talk.

★ sometimes, it would be short conversations. but more than often, you find yourself talking about everything and nothing until the sun rose above the mountains, and you would have to continue your journey until one of you (usually being you,) were too tired to continue.

★ Albedo talks with passion, no matter what the topic is. He could be talking about what you were going to be having for dinner for the next night before you reach the first region in your trip, and he would already have you captivated.

★ Albedo also talks with gentleness. And this was the said side not a lot of people would be able to see from the chief alchemist. Whenever the tent was filled with comforting silence, you would be able to hear Albedo asking you questions about yourself. They weren’t your standard, what was your dream growing up? Kind of questions, but they were more specific. More… personal.

★ Is it not funny, how life works? What if a single moment had changed in the past, I and you wouldn't have met. He would question, eyes trained to the flames burning in front of him. It sounded rhetorical, but his tone was laced with wonder. He sounds as if he was expecting an answer, but he doesn't urge you for one. And every time he does, you merely hum.

★ Albedo was gentle in everything he did. Almost all the time you were with him, he had never acted brashly. He was patient, kind.

★ and that was most likely what had prompted your crush on the alchemist

★ crushing on Albedo was like looking up at the stars. he was someone who shined brightly, but you knew he was too far to reach, yet despite that, you had still attempted to.

★ you had decided to finally let it all out on him the night of your final stay before you reached your final region, which was Inazuma.

★ and that, you had realized a little too late, had been the icing on top of a really terrible cake.

"Albedo," you had stared, and the alchemist immediately turned towards you. that was something you had grown fond of. you knew Albedo was a man married to his work, so when he turns to you in the midst of it, you felt your stomach churn in delight, "I have to tell you something,"

“Hm?” he hums, setting his notepad down to give you his full attention, “what is it, y/n?”

★ You took a deep breath, and the moment you had opened your mouth to tell him, you had a sinking feeling you had made a huge mistake.

“I like you, a lot,” you muttered, “not just platonically, Albedo. I… I think you're really interesting. and if you'd like, I would love to be with you. ”

★ Albedo’s face had fallen, and although it had been the slightest, you had still noticed it. He looked at you as if the cogs were turning in his brain, and finally, he looks down

“I must apologize,” he starts, and you feel your stomach drop, “but I’m not interested in you that way, y/n. If it makes you feel better, I see you as a very dear friend,”

★ You nod, apologizing to Albedo before he offers a small smile before continuing his research

★ You both did not speak of it, but there was a very thick air of silence hangs over the two of you afterward, that didn't dissipate even after you both left the camp.

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mesozoic-system · 3 years ago

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Bakugou Katsuki is not as bad as he seems.

Okay, fine. That's a lie. Bakugou is a loud and obnoxious asshole with little to no character development and will snap at anyone who breathes on him the wrong way.

Now that that's out of the way, let's move on to why he's like that.

You all know what PTSD is, yeah? If not, it stands for "Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder". It's something that causes panic attacks, unnecessary aggression, trust issues, nightmares, anxiety, depression, and more. People will develop it after a traumatic experience. It takes years of therapy to recover... actually, most people never recover from it.

Fun fact: Katsuki canonically has PTSD. It's confirmed, and you know what? After everything he's been through, it's not much of a surprise. He's been through one tragedy after another and never seems to get a break.

When we first met Bakugou Mitsuki (Katsuki's mother) in chapter #96, we instantly realized how aggressive she was. I mean come on! She talked smack right in front of him and his teachers- in front of All Might who she knew her son was very fond of. Katsuki may be irritable, but to have your own mother backhand you in front of your own role model is a little much.

Later on in chapter #165 during the Provisual License Exams, we get a little more information that only points towards more abuse- and this time it's not so verbal.

Most people paid no real attention nor gave it a second thought in these panels, but remember when Katsuki suggested to use violence against the kids? Of course, you'd look at it and wave it off as "normal Bakugou behavior", but what he says next took me by surprise:

That's right. He was raised that way.

Which means either Mitsuki or Masaru (or both) had struck him in some way multiple times as he was growing up, and I doubt it was Masaru.

"Spoiled" my ass. He might have a strong quirk, but people don't turn into little monsters just by being praised. It'll definely boost his confidence, but not dramatically. This could also explain his aggression toward Midoriya. He realized how helpless he was and had power over someone else for once. But that's just a theory.

Okay, let's fast forward a bit. He's finishing up his third year of Middle School and is preparing for the UA entrance exams. He's pushed away his childhood friend to follow his own dreams and tells him to jump off the roof.

Literally.

And then he walks out the door only to regret it much, much, muuuch later in the series- y'know. The "character development" I was talking about.

Next time we see him though, he gets what he deserves.

One panel he's tramping through an alley with his friends, and the next, he's being swallowed alive by the most perverted-looking slime monster I've ever laid my eyes on.

While Izuku's dreams are being crushed by his own hero, Katsuki is fighting for his life in the middle of town. He's struggling, but all he could do was look back at all the dozens of fearful eyes...

Right there. Right now. Look at him:

He's terrified. He's humiliated and afraid and hurt and despite all of the heroes that were there, none of them had even attempted to save him.

And this is where it really starts. This is where it all begins. Next thing we know, Izuku's running straight for him... The boy Katsuki's bullied almost all of his life is risking his own in order to save him.

You know the story from there; All Might trains Izuku to withhold his power, they get accepted into UA, and then comes the Sports Festival.

Katsuki's already made up his mind: he's gonna win. He's willing to give everything he has to show the country what he's made of, and this may be his only chance to make up for the mishap several months ago. And Monoma, being a professional at making things worse by opening his mouth, rubs salt in the wound.

It was pretty easy to predict Katsuki's reaction: pissed off and more than ready to prove him wrong. He does, but it cost him his "first place" during the Calvary Battle. But that's okay 'cuz it's not over yet!

Welcome to the next and last stage of the festival: The Battle Tournament, where all the kids get to beat the shit out of each other until only one remains.

Turns out, Katsuki does win. It was a foolproof plan: get Todoroki to go all out on him so he can make a final impression before the end of the day. But it was obvious that Shouto was still unsure of himself, so Katsuki did what he did best:

He had to piss him off.

But instead of getting angry and bursting into flames like he had planned, Shouto threw away the battle at the last second, and everything Katsuki had worked for with it.

No shit he's gonna be upset! He worked his ass off to get where he was, and the whole point was to leave himself a footprint! His entire life had been dedicated to that moment, and it faded away right in front of him.

Midnight put him to sleep and he woke up and threw a temper tantrum.

Now this is was UA did wrong:

Why would you do that?! They were all aware of what happened to him only a few months ago, he obviously hasn't properly recovered from it, and they restrain him in front of thousands of people. They cover his mouth and gag him, lock his hands in a tiny metal box and expect him not to go insane. Helloooo?! Wake up! He's just a kid!

Several months go by and now it's time for camp. Katsuki is tired. They all are. It's been a long day of training and training and training, and suddenly villains come out of nowhere, and nobody is prepared. And who shows up? The League of Villains, and they're after certain students...

Tokoyami escapes safely, but Katsuki isn't so lucky.

Just think about that for a second. When we see Shigaraki holding a picture of him, it's the one where UA tied him up. He knows what this child has gone through and he pities him. To be honest, I think the LoV treated him much better than anyone ever has (except maybe Kirishima). They're hesitant, but they treat him with kindness. They didn't just want him for his quirk. They saw what the heroes did to him and wanted to help him get the revenge he deserved.

But when All Might showed up (more like "burst through the wall like the Cool Aid man"), Katsuki is instantly teleported in the strangest way possible... and the most traumatizing.

He chokes out this weird slime-like substance that devours him within seconds. Thankfully it only last that long, but then again, the Sludge Incident, remember?

Yeah, bet that brings back some memories.

But what must have hurt him the most was All Might's downfall and early retirement. He said it himself:

After several chapters, he finally burst. He's been holding all the pain inside of him until it bubbled over and he couldn't take it anymore. So he went to the only person he could- the person he hated and yet trusted the most.

Maybe the Class 1A concert helped him in a way. It seemed like it brought him down and maybe even relaxed him a little. And something incredible happens. Something we haven't seen from him at all until now...

(From here, I'll try to keep it short to avoid as many manga spoilers as I can. That and I'm tired...)

He began to change; started to support Izuku... in his own twisted way, of course. As chapters went by, he started to open up little by little. He admitted what he had done to Izuku in middle school to All Might, which had brought him some peace of mind. It wasn't quite the apology we had hoped for, but I guess it'll do.

And during the war, he made the greatest sacrifice, finally unlocking his quirk's full potential. Despite being unable to move, he used his quirk to throw himself in front of Izuku without thinking, taking a blow to his stomach. To his stomach.

He was impaled.

Holy shit.

Last time someone had been impaled was Nighteye, and he died from his wounds.

But Katsuki somehow managed to survive... And woke up ready to beat Izuku's ass if he didn't wake up.

Anyway, that's all I have to say (so far). However, I'm excited for Season 5 of the anime series! Can't wait to see our new story animated! I mean, I've been watching the episodes as they come out, but still.

-Blightcon

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #kacchan #midoriya izuku #deku #all might #bakugou mitsuki #bakugou masaru #todoroki shouto #Utsushimi Camie #tokoyami fumikage #the thoughtbox

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joyfulhopelox · 3 years ago

Text

Right now i don’t know if i want to kiss you or shove you off this building

Part 1 | Part 2(end)

A/N: I have no words really, just i needed to get this off my chest and i wrote it so quickly that part 2 is probably going to be out by the end of the week.

genre: fluff (x100), University! au/ College!au

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox do NOT repost or reblog

Stealing is a crime please do not steal, i do not cross post anywhere else only Tumblr

Pairing: J-Hope x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Word count: 4,000 words

Warnings: i'm still bad at writing fluff but here we go (i cried a lot inside whilst writing it)

There are few times in someone’s life when they would have to rush out of the house in the middle of the night. Most times, it involved an emergency of some sorts.The usual A&E rush, the cravings rush and most important of them all, the all nighter in the library rush.

You have been debating for over an hour now if you should make a dash to the library. Your exhausted body screaming at you to just curl up into a ball and sleep- or cry, whichever came first. However your consciousness, and the fact that your anxiety was at an all time high, was telling you to just suck it up and go get your books from the library. That coupled with your approaching deadline. And to be honest you knew exactly what you would end up doing. After all, your grades could not afford to take a fall. Not worse than what they’ve dropped to now. Anymore and you would flunk the year completely.

But do you really need that book? Your brain tried it’s last card on you. You could technically just stay in, bury yourself in your blankets like the Michelin man, and write your essay that way. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes and got up grabbing your prized pen, the one that got you through your first and second year of exams, a couple of pieces of paper just in case, and your laptop. A trek to the library it is.

The spring air was doing a good job of waking you up. The light breeze, warm enough to not make you die of cold, but cold enough to cool down your tired flushed face. The 10 minutes it took to walk from your accommodation to the library was enough for you to steel yourself against an all nighter of studying.

What you had expected when you went in was anything but a packed library with students quietly studying. The noises of scratching pens and the rhythmic click-clacking of keyboards creating a mellow background noise. Some were dozing off, and you could not blame them, but holy hell could they not have done that at home? Okay, maybe you were judging, but could anyone blame you? You were desperate for a space and by the looks of the rows of heads between the shelves, there was a slim chance you would actually get a seat somewhere. If needed, you knew you could just crouch in between the shelves near the section that housed the maps, but you did not feel like inhaling dust and sporting a cramped leg for the rest of the night.

“Oh come on! This is a big library, there must be a seat somewhere” you whispered to yourself quietly, your eyes scanning the 3rd floor of the library. Aha! There. By the will of the gods, there was a seat, a lone corner at a table that was packed to the brim. You hastily made your way before anyone could spring out of nowhere and claim it, and slammed your butt down on the seat sighing in satisfaction. You’d made it. The first task done. Proud of yourself, you opened up your laptop and pulled the document you had been writing on. The bold letters at the top stating you NEEDED to get that specific book. A harsh reminder that the second task now would be even more difficult. Hunting for a book in this mammoth of a place. But what if you lost your spot? You needed your laptop to search for the book and to be honest you did not trust your laptop to not be stolen. You groaned to yourself, once again debating whether or not you needed the book

You finally decided that the book was non-negotiable and so you quickly grabbed your pen, with the promise to yourself that you would not get lost in the maze of shelves and interesting literature. Hastily writing a ‘will be back’ note, you slammed the pen down on top of the paper and rushed out of your seat.

The library atmosphere was quiet, despite the space being full of poor students who were rushing to meet a deadline or had exams coming up soon. Perusing the shelves, taking note of names that may interest you further on in your degree or even just as personal pleasure, you basked in the quietness and the dimness of the space. You loved the library at night, sure, but not when you were in a rush to finish a paper and not when exam and deadlines season pushed everyone and their mother to cram themselves in the space like sardines. Overall though, the space was dark and quiet just as you liked it.

Finally arriving at the area that was of interest to you, you stood in front of the row of shelves, a slow grin forming on your face. It was perfect, 4 rows of untouched literature. And you had all the time in the world.

Except...you didn’t. “Fuck” you cursed to yourself. You knew you did not have the time and you promised yourself you would not do this. Looking down at your watch, you let out another curse. “Fuck”. It had taken you half an hour to get here, the digital face of your watch showing 12.30am. “Oh man, I did it again” muttering to yourself, you turned your back towards the interesting titles that were calling your name and focused on the one book you actually needed.

Only to not find it on the shelf. Just your luck. “What am i supposed to do now?” dejectedly sighing you slowly made your way back to your seat. All you could think about was the missing book on the shelf.

How were you supposed to be finishing your paper now? Suddenly the quiet and calm atmosphere became gloomy and dark, this was not going very well for you. So lost in your thought you almost walked by your spot. Stopping right on time you looked to the side only to do a double take. It was not your spot anymore, the leather jacket as well as the mop of dark hair that could be seen occupying the seat was definitely not you. You double checked the area making sure you did not stray away again and somehow landed in the wrong spot but no. That was definitely the desk you had placed your note on.

It was just missing the note and seating another person now. Today was definitely not your day. The last thing you wanted to do at this time of the night, especially when you were in a hurry to finish and hand in your paper, was to be civil. But that was your seat. You refused to slouch in between the shelves and cram a seven thousand word paper tonight. You’ve done it enough times in the past for your bum and back to already be screaming at you in protest. Taking a deep breath in, you steeled yourself and approached the seat stealer.

The closer you got, the better the view of the seat stealer. Goddamn they were handsome. At least the side profile was something to enjoy looking at, but that did not change the fact that they had stolen your seat and were comfortably spread out onto the desk casually typing away at their laptop.

To top it all off, as if the scene was not enough to taunt your nerves, they were humming quietly to the beat that you could faintly hear coming from their headphones. And if you were to admit it to yourself, which you would not, they were very good at said humming.

“Uhm...excuse me” your voice cracked, having not been used for a couple of hours. You could not afford to seem meek in front of them, cute as hell and a great hummer be damned, they would not get the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. Truth be told, you hated confrontation. It was the last thing you resorted to under normal circumstances, let alone now when you were tired and stressed. Standing up straighter you tried again, “Excuse me!”

They made no move to acknowledge you or your shadow that cast now over the desk, as if you were both one and the same. Frustrated, you let out a huff and reached out to tap their shoulder. However, as if the fates had it out for you today, the humming seat stealer also came to life, moving his head towards your outstretched hand as they went to grab for their notebook and pen. That motion combined with yours caused a painful collision for the both of you. As it had not gotten a chance to change trajectory towards their shoulder, your unprepared hand bent awkwardly as it made contact with the side of the person’s head. A loud “oh fuck” chorused from the both of you, as both parties retracted as if burnt. Had you mentioned it was not your day?

“Is there a reason why I’m being assaulted at...1am on a Tuesday in the library?”. the seat stealer asked as he turned around to face you completely. He finally had a voice as well, and it was just as nice as the humming. Scrunching your nose in annoyance, you took a deep breath in prepared to tell him off. Not only was HE the one assaulting your hand but also your well deserved seat. Only to do the stereotypical double take. The mop of hair hid a very handsome face. High cheekbones and a pointed nose, your eyes trailed further down to his long neck and toned body. “Uh…” the stranger, seat stealer muttered, his hand going to scratch awkwardly at his long neck. Your brain agreed, “Uh…” you smartly copied snapping your eyes back at the face. You had clearly been caught staring judging by the smug smirk the person had on their face. Not only that but you had managed in a few minutes to smack a total stranger and display copious amounts of intelligence whilst trying your hand at a smart rebuttal to their question.

“So, now that I have your attention. Care to tell me why you are assaulting me at 1am on a Tuesday?” The tone of voice was less alarmed, more amused now. As if he clearly found your embarrassment entertaining.

“Assault? I have not assaulted you….you seat stealer!” You furiously exclaimed only to be interrupted by an equally stressed out fellow student“, Keep it down”. Only then did you become aware of the situation you are in. Three other rows of desks near the one you were currently at, and each of them seated a student who, like you, probably either had exams or deadlines. They were sleep deprived, hungry, and probably had too much caffeine running through their blood for their own good. And they were all focused on your form. To embarrass you further, the seat stealer even had the audacity to smugly smile and whisper “yeah, shhhhh.”

Getting redder by the minute, whether in mortification at being told off by the student a few rows away from you or from increasing anger at the seat stealer, you bent down, eyes narrowed “you….you...shush, and whilst you are at it, get out of my seat, you seat stealer”. You were unsure whether your shouted whisper would sound menacing enough to convey the mixture of emotions running through your veins at the moment. The stranger’s smug smile dropped instantly, a look of confusion replacing it, “seat stealer? What is that about?”

“You stole my seat!”

“I did not. The seat was free. If you passed by it, it was free and you didn’t sit down or leave your stuff on the chair; it doesn't automatically make it yours.” The stranger shrugged carefully, studying your expressions. What he saw must have really amused him because he started snickering to himself. Getting redder by the minute your rebuttal was weak, if only you’d have thought about it beforehand.

“I only have my laptop on me! And I left a note and my precious pen on the desk! A note which you have thrown out to steal my seat.” That is when it all went downhill. “you ‘strange seat stealer’!” the snickers coming from the handsome man got even more violent, to the point of you worrying about him choking- had you not been angry at him you would have asked if he was ok. Unfortunately, you were angry and nothing he did could have solved that.

The stranger abruptly stood up, so close to your face that you could see the numerous lashes that shadowed his dark eyes, amusement still plastered onto his face. He grabbed your elbow lightly, giving you a chance to break free if needed, but you were so stunned by his actions that all you could do was question how handsome his angular face was. “You’re cute, and that was a smart, if odd, alliteration you made there” He breathed, the action making a stray strand of hair blow away from your face, “but we’re making a scene”.

“Wh-” before you could process what he’d said, he trailed his hand from your elbow to your own hand and lightly gripped it with the intention of moving you away. The sudden jolt sprung your brain back to life and you tried fruitlessly to pull your hand away from his grip. Unfortunately, your brain decided to work a bit too late, as you were already past the rows of desks and shelves of books, closer to the lift lobby on that floor. “I am not making a scene, you are making a scene. Who are you to get me away from my seat not only once, but twice?!” Your feet firmly planted on the ground and finally got the stranger to stop. “I don’t know who you are” as he made a move to talk, you interrupted “and I don’t care, I saw that seat first, left a note on it to say I was going to be back and you stole it! I need the space!”

“Why?” The stranger calmly asked. His face showed no signs of anger or frustration, and it seemed like it belonged like that, serene and peaceful. And it made you wonder if anything could ever anger this man. Sure, you did not know him but you had been yelling in his face for the past minute. His demeanour and question threw you off so much so that your brain once again hiccuped.

“What do you mean why?”

“I mean why do you NEED the space, it’s clear that you do not have a bag or any belongings for that matter.” He gave you a once over to emphasize his words, his calm eyes lingering a bit too long on your form for your anger to continue overriding the flustered mess that you had become. “I- I do!” You don’t know why you needed to prove yourself to him, but it was a valid question he’d asked. So, you showed him the arm he was not holding, that carried a laptop. Realising he was still holding onto your hand, the sudden thought made you suddenly hot and clammy and before he could do anything about it you pulled it out of his warm hold.

Trying to ignore the loss of warmth the contact brought you, you looked away flustered.

“This cannot be happening. Look, I sat down there first, I put a note down because I needed to go find a book for my essay and….oh god...it’s due in like…..five hours”. Not looking at him the entire time you explained your situation to him, frustration and anxiety taking over your anger you missed the worried look he threw at your red face and the slight movement he made with his hands as if to grab your fretting ones. Instead when you looked back at him after a couple of moments of silence, what you saw was him studying the space behind you closely. “Hey! Are you even listening?” You got over your anger and tried to explain, (not that you needed to) somewhat logically to make this person understand why you needed the seat back and all they did was ignore you.

“Have you found the book that you needed?” He turned his attention back to you, a small smile forming onto his face. You did not know whether it was the fact that he completely ignored what you had said earlier, the untimely smile he gave you, or the fact that your heart sped up at the said smile, but your anger went through the roof once again.

“No! Now excuse me whilst I go reclaim my seat. If you want to waste time out here just staring at the walls, that is your issue, some of us have problems they need to fix.” Making a move to turn around you halted, realising you were going the wrong way. Mumbling to yourself you brushed past the guy and headed for the lifts. Calling the lift you tapped your foot impatiently. You could find another seat somewhere else, and if not, you were desperate enough to finish the paper that you would risk your own bottom and sit in between shelves. It felt like an eternity until the lift arrived and as soon as you got in you pressed the button for the floor above you thinking you may have some luck there. Surveying the corridor you noticed that the guy had left, and surprisingly a twinge of disappointment made you sigh. You just wanted to continue the argument, nothing else.

Right before the doors to the lift could close though a running form made its way to the lift sliding in between the door with swift grace, almost barreling into you. It took you a moment to realise it was the seat stealer with his bags packed up and his laptop in his hands. “What are you doing?” you hissed as you noticed he cancelled your floor and pressed the tower one instead. “Making up for stealing your seat”, he casually replied as he observed the numbers in the lift change.

“By not letting me go find another seat?” you huffed, “you could have just vacated the seat earlier and it would have all been fine.”

“But it wouldn’t have given me an excuse to talk to you for longer than three seconds would it? I’m Hoseok by the way.” He turned and smiled at you, the dimples in his cheeks becoming prominent. Rendered speechless by his forwardness, you did not know how to respond. So you settled onto clearing your throat and willing the blush that was taking over the apples of your cheeks away. Not meeting his eyes and refusing to grant him with the same grace and give him your name, you chose instead to ask where he was planning to take you. His response was just as cryptic as his previous one, “you will see”.

The rest of the way had been spent in silence, you having given up on trying to argue with the seat stealer...Hoseok. You repeated the name in your head multiple times, it suited him. For a brief second you wondered how it would sound if you said it out loud, but you squashed that thought away very quickly. You weren’t friends or even acquaintances so there was no reason for you to do so.

Whilst your brain was running a hundred miles an hour, throughout this time Hoseok took the time to observe you. Undeniably pretty, a smile made its way onto his face as he watched the different faces that you were pulling clearly lost deep in thought. You are cute. He knew that your argument couldn’t even be called as such. To his defense, the seat he had occupied had nothing on it. It was only when he ran back to gather his things and rush back to you that he noticed the note and the pen that were lying on the floor near the foot of the desk. In his haste he had grabbed both of them hoping that if his plan did not work he would have another excuse to approach you at some point. Now, those two items were weighing down in his pocket. Your name, which you had not freely given to him but it was written on the note, burnt into his mind. Maybe he did not need them after all. He would give you your pen back of course, but he would keep the note. It would be good memorabilia in the future.

The lift came to a halt and the doors opened .This time Hoseok did not even hesitate to grab your hand and lead you to your destination as he was afraid you would run away from him. Your heart thumping again at the gesture you let yourself be led by him too astonished to say anything. Who was this human being and why was he so friendly after you’d argued for the good part of an hour. Before you could panic about the time you had lost, Hoseok stopped abruptly.

‘We’re here’ he motioned with his free hand. The one that did not occupy yours.

Realising so you tried to inconspicuously free your hand from his, the astonishment at his behaviour quickly turned into amazement at the choice of space he was presenting you with. You were not a fan of the tower as heights were a bit of a stretch for you but the cosy alcove with window seats and the view of the night time sky it provided were enough to make you forget that. “Woah, how did you find this place?”’ You mumbled and quickly went to the window observing the lights of the city behind you. For how late it was, the scenery down below was surprisingly animated. Not getting a response you turned around thinking he had abandoned you there. What you were not expecting was the bashful look he was giving you whilst rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm, by mistake really, I just happened to wander here one day and yeah...thought it was quiet enough and...well, I needed to make up for the fact that you did not have a seat in the end and you said you needed to finish your paper and…yeah’

Him reminding you of the paper that was now due in less than three hours made you jump in panic. Without thinking you threw your laptop onto the little table space that the alcove offered and sat down. Typing your password you opened the document you were working on. Whilst waiting for it to load you hesitated, bit your lip and looked up.

“Are you not going to sit down? I assume you also have work to do since you are here?” Without looking, you motioned to the seat directly across from you. This could end up being the best decision of your life or your worst... but you came to the conclusion you wouldn’t know unless you took a chance. Hearing him shift his feet and the feel of his knees close to yours as he sat down was enough to make you blush again. Here it goes, now or never.

‘I’m Y/N by the way’ you looked up in time to see him smile.

‘I know’

#jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #bts jhope #kpop scenarios #bts scenarios #i lowkey wrote this whilst not having slept for a week so i'm sorry #bts x you #bts x reader scenario

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voiceless-terror · 4 years ago

Note

Hi ily and I love bothering people with prompts, so I'm requesting "a character who’s so exhausted his hands are trembling, his eyes are dull/unfocused, he’s starting to hallucinate… and his team needs him to stay awake" with Jon and literally anyone at any time (except s5 because it's too emotionally taxing for me to keep up with oop-)

Hello there, Shannon! Here you go! This takes place in Season Two, when all is not great with the Archives team. Hope you like! <3

“And you’re sure this requires all four of us?”

“Yes, Jon,” Elias sighed, his annoyance clear even through the phone. “Believe it or not, I am trying to help you. You’ve managed to alienate almost all of your staff, so perhaps this will do you some good. You seem to enjoy ‘following-up’ these days, unlike in your first months in the position.”

That stung a bit.

It wasn’t his fault someone had died in the Archives, and that someone happened to be his predecessor. It was a natural reaction to feel some paranoia, though he will admit he might have gone a little...overboard, in some of his investigations. Tim certainly thought so. Sasha was her usual cool, aloof self avoiding him as much as possible. Martin was the only one that treated him the same, probably better than he deserved after accusing the man of being a possible murderer. He dragged him out to lunches and hovered in the evenings when Jon stayed late. He was the one who accompanied him to the clinic after his incident with Michael. Jon couldn’t help the ache that went through his chest when he saw Martin still in the lobby, waiting to take him home and fussing over his bandages.

Walking him to his door.

And now Elias, of all people, was deciding to be more ‘hands-on’ after the intervention. The intervention where even Martin held him at arm's length, though he was still the friendliest face in the room. If this meant keeping his job, he would do it.

Though he wasn’t so sure he even liked his job anymore. But Jon kept pushing forward. He needed answers.

Telling his assistants was another story.

He stood in front of them, knowing he looked a mess. He’d seen himself in the mirror this morning after another failed attempt at rest. His hair was a mess, the dark circles under his eyes were turning a lurid purple. He looked waxy and gaunt and nothing he could do now would fix it. So he kept drinking his tepid black coffee and cheap energy drinks; frankly, they were the only thing keeping him going.

Nevertheless, he didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“Seriously, Jon?” Tim wasn’t fond of using ‘boss’ anymore, not unless he was feeling particularly vicious. “It would be fine with two of us. Me and Martin can go and take shifts. You look like the living dead.”

“Tim,” Martin admonished, shooting him a look. “He’s right, though. You don’t look well, and I don’t think an all-night stake out is what you need right now. I mean, why are we even following up on this? It’s just some ‘vampire’ sighting that’s not going to pan out. Don’t we have more important things to be focusing on?”

“Elias insisted,” Jon tried for apologetic but must have missed the mark, judging by Tim’s narrowing eyes. “I’m- I wouldn’t make you do this, but I’m afraid-”

“Why does Elias even care about this?” Tim interrupted, slamming his drawer shut dramatically. The sound made Jon flinch- that wasn’t hard to do these days. “Did you even try to get out of it?”

“Of course I did,” Jon bristled. “I know- I know the last thing anyone wants to do is spend time with me. This wasn’t my idea-”

“That’s a bit hard to believe, Jon,” Sasha’s voice was mocking, though it remained light and easy. Sasha was always ready with a barb or a joke, mostly at Jon’s expense. “I’d think you’d enjoy this sort of thing- stalking, investigating. Or is that just with your co-workers?”

Tim snickered. Even Martin had a bit of a smile on his face, though he tried to hide it. Jon felt his face flush red.

“That’s not,” Jon began a defense but quickly backtracked, knowing it would be futile. “Elias wanted us to go tomorrow night. It’s about thirty minutes away, so if you don’t mind driving, Tim-”

“Anything for you, boss,” Tim muttered. “If you could try sleeping before then, that would be great. I filled my quota on catching you collapsing on the job.” The words were unnecessarily sharp and hurt Jon more than he cared to admit. He remembered a time when Tim was always around to lend him a hand, conscientious and kind. But he’d gone and ruined that now, hadn't he?

“I’ll be fine,” Jon straightened his back, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Tim snorted and turned back to his desk, Sasha did the same. Martin just stood there, giving Jon an appraising eye. It made him feel like he failed an exam or came up short on an examination.

This should be fun.

_______

Sleep eluded him for all but an hour that night. The face that greeted him in the morning looked even more horrific than the day before; Tim wasn’t far off in his assessment. He said as much as Jon entered the office.

“Christ, this is going to be fun,” Tim rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair as Jon hunched in on himself, defensively clutching his extra-large coffee.

“I did sleep,” he bit out, avoiding the man’s eyes. It was true.

“Sure. Just try taking a fucking nap this afternoon, okay?” The words sounded almost concerned, but Jon knew better. “I’m not listening to you snore in the backseat all night.”

“I’ll try,” Jon grumbled as he exited the room. A sudden sting hit his hand and he hissed; coffee had spilled from the lid of his to-go cup and was now running a scalding stream down his arm. His hand was shaking, a steady and insistent tremor that refused to calm despite his best efforts.

I’ll sleep this afternoon, he promised himself. Something’s gotta give eventually, right?

_______

Jon was wrong. Just my luck.

After two fruitless hours of tossing and turning, he finally gave up, leaving the office to grab a couple of energy drinks that he could hide in his bag. And now he was loaded in the backseat of Tim’s car, his heartbeat erratic and his chest tight. Martin had provided them all with coffee, though he handed Jon his with some reluctance.

“Are you sure you’re okay-”

“For the last time, yes, Martin!” The words came out harsher than he intended and Martin flinched back, avoiding Jon’s eyes as he got into the passenger seat beside Tim. “Don’t yell, Jon,” Tim commanded as he started the car. “God, you always were a right bastard when you’re sleep-deprived.”

“M’ sorry, Martin,” he mumbled to the ground. It was easier to focus on something stationary- whenever he looked out the window, his vision blurred and nausea churned in his stomach. And that’s why you don’t have energy drinks on an empty stomach. Stupid, stupid.

“It’s fine, Jon.” It didn’t feel fine.

By the time they arrived at the park where the supposed sightings took place, it was already dark. Tim had the radio playing softly in the background as he and Martin murmured in the front seats, a low sound Jon couldn’t hear. He wondered if they were talking about him.

Not everything’s about you. He shivered in his seat, drawing his coat tighter around his body. Sasha shot him a glance; she always had the hint of a smile on her lips, cold and calculating. As if Jon’s situation was amusing to her. Maybe it is.

He wished Martin was back here with him. Martin was warm, solid, and steady; Jon craved that, embarrassing as it was. But Martin likely didn’t want to be around him; unsurprising, with how Jon’s behaved.

The steady drone of sound was pleasant, a nice background hum that relaxed him incrementally. The occasional heart palpitations were starting to slow, and Jon felt himself relaxing for the first time in days. It was a sweet, blissful relief- surely a small nap wouldn’t be terrible, just enough to keep him going through the night-

A sharp jab in his side jolted him awake. He shot up with a yelp to find Sasha smirking, her face unreadable. “Don’t sleep on the job, boss.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, rubbing at his eyes and wishing for just a short reprieve. But the blurriness was worse now and his heart was back to its erratic rhythm- Sasha’s rude awakening had done its job.

“Maybe try looking out the window,” Tim suggested sarcastically. “We are here to do a job, you know. Not so you can zone out and sleep.”

“R-Right.” Jon didn’t mention that nobody else seemed to be doing the same. Still, he focused on the dim light emanating from the one streetlamp in the park. It was just an empty field at the edge of the woods. It would be hard to miss anything.

This went on for an hour, Sasha continually nudging him awake whenever he started to drift off. She was probably doing him a favor- who knows what horrors lurked in his nightmares, and the last thing he needed was to wake up screaming like a lunatic. He imagined word getting round to Elias that he was falling apart, even more unstable than previously thought.

And then something moved out of the corner of his eye- a small, dark shadow was standing in the middle of the park, barely visible by the light of the streetlamp. Jon let out a choked gasp as he leaned forward, hitting the back of Tim’s seat.

“L-Look!” he whispered urgently, pointing ahead. “Someone- someone’s there?”

“Where, Jon?” Sasha’s voice beside him was amused, playful. “I don’t see a thing.”

“Right there!” He insisted, and as if on cue the figure began moving forward, edging closer to the light. “It’s moving!”

“Jon,” Tim started, looking back at him with an inquisitive gaze. His voice was slow and measured. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing there.”

“There is!” He was aware he was begging now, a pathetic plea to just look, it’s right there, can’t you see?

Martin reached a hand to his shoulder, all concern and worry. “Jon, I promise you there’s-”

And that’s when the figure revealed itself, standing clear under the light. It was a woman, tall and sad. Her long hair was pulled back from her face with a headband, and she had round glasses and looked so, so familiar-

Sasha, his mind supplied. That’s not right. Sasha’s right beside him.

Sasha. It was insistent this time. Jon put a shaking hand to the door handle and wrenched it open, practically falling out of the car as the others protested behind him. But he paid them no mind and stumbled forward on weak legs. There were footsteps behind him but it didn’t matter because Sasha’s there Sasha’s there-

And then she was gone.

The park was silent and still, almost serene. And Jon stood under the lamp, his chest heaving and his heart racing until he collapsed in the soft, dewy grass. Sasha was in the car. Sasha wasn’t here. But it doesn’t make sense. He gagged, hands and knees digging into the earth as nothing came up but a small amount of bile and coffee. A hand went to his shoulder but he wrenched it off, a frustrated moan bubbling out of his throat as his eyes filled with tears.

“Sasha was here,” he wailed, no longer caring if he made a scene. “Sasha was here!”

“Jon? Oh fuck, oh God what do we do, something’s wrong-”

“Just pick him up, Martin, get him back in the car!”

Jon was hauled to his feet but his legs were shaky and useless; Martin cursed and scooped him up instead, unbearably gentle. He tugged at Martin’s shirt, desperate for someone to listen. “Sasha,” he hiccupped but Martin just hushed him, squeezing him tighter to his chest.

“Sasha’s in the car, Jon,” He whispered soothingly as Tim opened the car door. “See? Right there!” Sasha, with her wrong smile and her wrong face and her cold, cold hands-

Jon let out a shriek, thrashing and kicking as Martin tried to place him in the backseat by that thing. “No no no,” he cried and tugged at Martin’s jumper. “I don’t want to I don’t want to-”

“Get in the front, Sash,” Tim commanded, something unreadable in his eyes. “He’s not going to stop freaking out until you do. Martin can sit in the back.”

“So fussy,” she said mildly as she opened the door and did as Tim said. “Is he going to be okay?”

Jon could barely follow the conversation as Martin awkwardly crawled into the backseat and tried to maneuver him into his seatbelt. But Jon couldn’t let go because Martin was real and there and the only thing holding him together at the moment.

“Just drive,” Martin’s voice was hard and unlike him, but he squeezed Jon tighter to his chest and that was all he needed to finally give into the darkness at the edge of his vision.

_____

When he next woke he was tucked into a bed- his own, strangely. Light filtered gently into the room and Jon felt like he’d been run over by a truck several times over; every part of him aching and groaning as he attempted to sit up.

“Jon?”

Martin stood in the doorway, the picture of anxiety and worry. “God, I thought you’d never wake!” He hurried over to the side of the bed and placed a hand to his forehead that Jon leaned into. “You don’t feel warm. You’ve been asleep for almost sixteen hours. Are you okay?”

“Define ‘okay,’” Jon croaked, leaning back into the pillows. Sixteen hours but he still felt like hammered shit. “What- what happened? Why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” Martin’s voice somehow managed to sound more worried. “God, you were- you were really out of it, Jon. Ranting about Sasha- you wouldn’t get near her. I thought we should take you to the hospital but Tim insisted you wouldn’t like that.” Tim was always the one who knew him best. “He had a key so we dropped you off, but I thought someone should stay behind- I mean, is that okay? I don’t want to overstep or anything, but you were really bad and I couldn’t-”

“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon cut him off gently. It was touching, in a way, that Martin would want to look out for him after the fit he apparently threw. “I, uh- thank you, I guess.”

“Really, it’s no problem,” Martin said, leaning back on his heels and fiddling with his hands. “I-I didn’t want to leave you alone, and I didn’t think you’d want to wake up to Tim or Sasha-”

“God,” Jon groaned and slumped over in bed, shame coursing through his veins. ‘“I’ll have to apologize to her tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Martin agreed, though not unkindly. “But I think she’ll understand. You were exhausted, it’s not like you meant it.” I suppose that’s true, he thought. Just my paranoia out of control.

“I’ll make us some tea. You stay in bed, okay?”

“A-Alright.” Martin turned to leave the room but a thought logged itself in Jon’s brain and he reached a hand out to stop him. “Did you stop anywhere beforehand?” he asked. “Like the institute, o-or maybe Tim’s place?”

“No,” Martin replied, a puzzled look on his face. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jon closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows, feeling utterly drained. “It’s nothing.”

Martin exited the room and Jon tried not to think about the key he gave Tim ages ago, back when they visited each other with some regularity.

And the idea that it was still on his keychain, waiting to be used.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457939

#prompts #my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #not!sasha #martin blackwood #jonmartin #angst #sickfic #whump #postapocalyptic-cryptic

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calciseptinefic · 8 years ago

Text

solo and pair

Yuuri!!! On Ice || Victor Nikiforov/Yuuri Katsuki || Hasetsu, Part VII notes: also available on ao3. warnings: none

part vi

After Yuuri fails to qualify for the Grand Prix series, life returns to the same monotonous rhythm: morning runs, school, evening practice, school work, and sleep. Occasionally, a minor competition or exhibition will shake up the monotony. Yuuri wins a majority of them with the same routines he performed at tri-regionals, though at the gentle behest of his part-time coach, he minimizes the two quads in his free skate to triples.

"You don't have the right number of rotations," his instructor says. "We can continue to practice of course, but for now I think we should increase your number of combinations and focus on your presentation. That should buff up your points."

Yuuri acquiesces, and only the plethora of prizes—the ribbons and trophies, the monetary consolations and the small prestige—help soothe the sting of disappoint. He needs to start landing quads if he wants to further his career, but it seems that not matter how hard he tries, he cannot pass the point he has reached.

"You're plateauing," Nishigori says one day as they sit on the benches outside the rink, boots laced and hard guards on as they patiently wait for open skate to begin. Yuuko, already graduated from high school and working full time at Hasetsu Ice Castle, is helping a small semi-circle of children take their first tentative steps on the ice. "It happens."

Yuuri huffs, irritated. He knows that all athletes plateau, and he knows that they often do so multiple times over the course of their careers, but knowing it and experiencing it are two entirely different things.

"I've plateaued before," Yuuri bites out. He sounds whiny and petulant even to himself, but he cannot care. He is tired of his lack of progress.

"Then why are you letting it bother you?" Nishigori slaps his broad palm down on Yuuri's bouncing knee. It does not hurt but it does startle, and Yuuri jumps in his seat. "You have to let your body catch up to your ambition. Take a break." Nishigori grins. "You do know what a break is, right?"

Yuuri frowns at Nishigori's teasing. Though it is good-natured and friendly, it still strikes a nerve. Yuuri knows that his body—freshly seventeen and nearing the rough end of adolescence—is adjusting to the physical and mental rigors of semi-professional figure skating, but it has been months, and he hasn't completed a quad of any sort. Even the easiest jump—the pick assisted toe loop—evades him. He feels stuck. Stagnant. In his darker moments, Yuuri wonders if this new plateau is actually his summit.

"I know what a break is," Yuuri mutters as he pushes Nishigori's hand off his thigh. "Don't be a jerk."

"Hey now!" Nishigori's self-satisfied grin grows. "I'm just being honest!"

"Oh," Yuuri drawls. "And here I thought you were just being rude."

A year ago, Yuuri's smart comment would have prompted Nishigori to scowl and punch Yuuri just a little too forcefully in the arm. Now, Nishigori merely laughs and knocks his shoulder companionably against Yuuri's. He has become more agreeable in the past year; he is kinder and easier to talk to. Yuuko says it's because Nishigori has finally grown up, but Yuuri—who has seen the soft way Nishigori presses his fingers to the middle of Yuuko's stomach—is not sure age is the only contributing factor.

"Seriously though," Nishigori continues once the mood mellows. "Taking care of yourself isn't just about training and eating right. It's also about taking time for yourself. Focusing on what's important." Nishigori's eyes follow Yuuko as she glides slowly backwards over the ice, a train of inexperienced kids trailing after her. "Besides, the longer you practice, the more likely you are to make a mistake and hurt yourself. Can you imagine what a disaster that would be?"

"No," Yuuri replies instantly. Though bruises, cuts, and chapped lips are a fact of figure skating, Yuuri has never experienced anything worse than a grade II ankle sprain. The ten days he had to stay off the ice had been the longest ten days of his life. "No, I can't."

"Then take it easy," Nishigori says.

"I'll think about it," says Yuuri.

March in Hasetsu is a nebulous time. Snow clings stubbornly to the curbs while patches of grass brighten along walkways. Birds return to roost in blossoming trees, yet the sun remains a distant and heatless white disk. The thawing air being to smell of clean earth and sharp ocean salt. The chilly wind nips. The last of winter tangles with the first of spring and Yuuri—who spends half his life on artificial ice—puts on a coat but not his gloves before he leaves for school.

"Are you going to be home tonight?" Mari asks, taking a drag of her cigarette. They are sitting side by side in the private entryway as Yuuri ties his shoes and Vicchan's wagging tail thumps against the floor.

"Same as usual," Yuuri replies. "The rink closes at nine."

Mari exhales, smoke dissipating upwards. She taps the ashes from the end into a small ceramic dish she carries in the folds of her work robes and says, "You're not going to celebrate with friends?"

Yuuri is confused for a moment, thinking of Yuuko and Nishigori. He is about to say, "But I always meet them at the rink?" when he remembers that it is the last day of his second year of high school.

"Oh," Yuuri murmurs. He tightens the knots of his laces. "I don't—they're my classmates."

Mari scoffs, "What, so they can't be your friends?"

Yuuri frowns at his sister. There are classmates he talks to before the first bell, classmates he sits with during lunch, and classmates he exchanges good-byes with when the day ends, but he's never spent time with any of them outside of school. Few of his peers understand his dedication to his sport and those who do spend their time with their own passions. It's a little ironic; his parents had originally enrolled Yuuri in figure skating to help him make friends, but it ended up being one of the things that prevented him from deepening acquaintanceships.

"I didn't say that. It's just…" Yuuri shrugs. "No one's really interested in skating."

"Or," Mari drawls, "Victor Nikiforov."

Despite the faint flush that scores his cheeks, Yuuri is more annoyed than embarrassed at Mari's pointed remark. He turns away from her, pushes the heel of his palm against his sternum to ease the ache he always feels when Victor Nikiforov's name comes up, and huffs wordlessly.

"Okay, kiddo, okay. I'll stop teasing you about your crush." Mari laughs, a low rasp, and snubs her cigarette out in the dish by her knee. "Have fun at school."

Before he leaves, Yuuri scratches Vicchan behind the ears one final time and begrudgingly says goodbye to Mari. He is sure that the last day of school will be sedate and uneventful, and he is right; exams were completed the previous week, and the busy work his teachers assign is simple. Some teachers don't even bother with the pretense and announce a free period. Predictably, Yuuri's classmates break off into their usual cliques and talk about their plans for the three week long break ahead of them. Yuuri—who is not as anti-social as Mari accuses of being—joins such a group instead of staying at his desk and re-watching the previous Four Continents free skates on his phone.

"I'm going to my grandfather's in Hokkaido," one of the three other boys in Yuuri's circle says with a grimace. "There's still a ton of snow up there and he always puts me to work. I'm in the prime of my youth! I should be somewhere warm, playing video games and meeting cute girls at the café."

"You'd need a girl to actually agree to a date first," a second boy interjects. Yuuri and the other boys snort at the slight.

"Hey!"

"Maybe getting it will be easier in Hokkaido?" the second boy continues with a smirk. "At least those girls don't know what a meathead you are. Who knows? You might even meet your soulmate! I bet she's gonna be a country girl with a huuuuuge pair of—oof!"

The first boy punches the second in the arm, harder than is considered friendly, and they begin to slap and pinch one another over the desk separating them. It is not an uncommon thing; they push each other's buttons in the way close, lifelong friends often do, and no one in the room pays any attention to it.

"Man, I wish I got to leave town," the third member of their group bemoans to Yuuri. "I tried to get my parents to let me go to Osaka with my cousin, but they want me to attend cram school the whole time. They keep bringing up early entrance exams, too." He sighs and rests his cheek in the palm of his hand. "What about your parents? Have they been riding you too?"

"No." Yuuri shakes his head. "I mean, my older sister started working at the onsen right after she finished high school, and I don't think my parents ever said anything to her, either."

"Lu-uh-cky," says the other boy, drawing out and doubling up on the first syllable. "I wish I had a family business. I could just skip university altogether and get to it."

Yuuri says nothing. He does not mind the inevitability of working at Yu-topia—the onsen has been in his family for many years, and he likes the traditional, sedate atmosphere of the inn—but he knows that he cannot do so immediately after he graduates high school. First, he must find out how far his skating will take him; if he does not, he knows he will regret it for the rest of his life.

"What about you?" The question startles Yuuri from his thoughts. "What are you doing over break?"

"I'm—uhh—I'm going to practice my quad toe loop," replies Yuuri, truthfully if not a little cautiously. Mari's earlier sentiment rears its ugly head and makes Yuuri wonder if he's boring. He isn't interested in the same things as his peers—isn't interested in destination vacations, or studying for exams, or fooling around—and he is acutely aware of this fact. "I want to be able to land a quad by the time the season starts."

Yuuri will also be watching the ISU World Championships with Yuuko in a couple weeks, but he doesn't voice this plan. If he does, he knows he'll inevitably wax poetic about Victor Nikiforov and his stunningly bittersweet programs. After Mari's inaccurate assumption that morning, Yuuri knows he isn't ready to be teased a second time about his…. idolization.

"You know, I always forget that you figure skate," the other boy murmurs. "Aren't you nationally ranked?"

"Yeah," Yuuri says. He competed in the All-Japan Figure Skating Championships in late December and finished twentieth with an total score of 152.08. Yuuri is keenly aware that, if it weren't for his presentation scores, he wouldn't have ranked at all. "I didn't do very well."

Yet before Yuuri and the other boy's small side conversation can go into further, more difficult detail, the first half of their group stops rough-housing and pushes the topic back to their break. Yuuri is thankful for the change of subject. It has always been strangely hard for him to talk about his skating to people who aren't Yuuko, Minako, or his part-time coach; he puts too much of himself into the sport to express himself properly to people who aren't a part of the figure skating world.

The rest of the school day passes and ends uneventfully, and less than half an hour after break begins, Yuuri is in the locker room of Hasetsu Ice Castle. Nishigori is already there; he goes to a different high school than Yuuri, and he often beats Yuuri to the rink by several minutes.

"Hey," Nishigori greets as Yuuri sets his gym bag down on the concrete floor. Their assigned lockers are next to one another, as they have been for several years. "Not celebrating with friends tonight?"

"No," Yuuri says. "Are you?"

"No." Nishigori shrugs nonchalantly. "My graduation ceremony is next week, anyway. You're still coming?"

"Wouldn't miss it," says Yuuri. He knows that school has always been hard for Nishigori; Nishigori wasn't book smart, and he struggled through most of his classes. His diploma will have been hard earned. "I'll even wear a tie."

Nishigori snorts but does not say anything while Yuuri perfunctorily changes out of his school clothes and into the athletic gear he wears while on ice. Over the past year, Yuuri has grown several inches and lost the last of his baby-fat; his jawline is sharper, his stomach is flat, and his hips are narrow and trim. He knows he will never be as tall or as muscular as Nishigori, but those things matter less to him now than they once did, and Yuuri no longer hesitates when he unbuttons his navy slacks and strips out of his sweater.

Yuuri's lack of self-consciousness while undressing is also due to his customized soul mark cover. Minako had bought the first one online for his last birthday; in the four months since then, Yuuri has amassed a dozen of the same mark covers in various shades of black, blue, and gray. The cover is a sleeveless top that cuts beneath his ribcage, rises high on his neck, and hides every wild tendril of his mark. The fabric is tightly-woven, light-weight, and moisture-wicking, which is perfect considering that he wears one at all times: when he goes to school and when he works out, when he skates and when he dances, when he's at home and when he goes to bed. The only time Yuuri does not wear his cover is when he showers.

Once Yuuri is done changing, he sits down on the bench next to Nishigori and pulls on his skates. He hunches over to reach his laces, his sternum pressed to his knee.

"Yuuri," Nishigori says. "I… I want to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Yuuri—who is focused on properly lacing his boots over his high arches—does not quite catch Nishigori's subdued tone.

"I need a favor."

"Sure," Yuuri says as he moves onto his second skate. "What is it?"

Nishigori does not answer. Instead, there is a rustling noise as though Nishigori were shifting the clothes around inside his gym bag, then silence. It is not until Yuuri finishes his task that he looks up—

—and sees the small, unopened black ring box cradled in the broad palm of Nishigori's hand.

part viii

#fandom: yuri!!! on ice #pairing: victor nikiforov/yuuri katsuki #rated: m #victuuri #yoi

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