Kuroba Nyx

“Tell me how you hate me”

[duino]

"SAY IT WITH YOUR HANDS" for A Series of "I Love You's"

Pairing: Tsukishima x Fem!Reader

Rating/Warnings: T for Teen, this is SOFT BOY HOURS

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Some things feel impossible to say aloud, at first. Good thing words aren't always needed.

Note: Fluff. God, nothing gets me more than soft Tsukki.

You hadn’t known what to expect when you and Tsukishima first started dating. He had asked you out so casually, without preamble or pretense. Just a short question, in between your college lectures, in between the spaces of friendship and the careful beginnings of something more. Part of you had half expected to wake up the next morning and realize you had dreamt it all. (The other part of you thought he had been teasing you in some cruel way. You had almost tripped on thin air when you realized he was being serious.)

In a lot of ways, it’s easy, because nothing has changed. He still competes with you for the higher grade, still has a parry ready for any of your smartass remarks. He still taps you on the forehead with his pencil when you start zoning out. He still walks you to your dorm room after classes.

In a lot of ways, you feel at a loss, because everything has changed. Of course it has. Because now he punctuates every quick comeback with a peck on your forehead. Now, he pulls you in by the loops of your pants, kissing you goodbye, with you shoulder blades pressed against your room door. Now, every moment is full of new meaning (a hand brushing your lower back, a glance that softens from across the room), and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t in slight disbelief sometimes.

It felt like he was in slight disbelief sometimes. You’re as surprised about receiving his affections as he seems to be giving them. Like he’s shocked to have tenderness pulled out of him like this, like it happens against all his better judgements. You happened, against all his better judgements.

And he wants to be good for you. He doesn’t say it, and you don’t mention it either, but you can tell. He’s more careful now. There are times you can see him struggle for the words, for the right action. And you want to be good for him, too. So you never push.

Even though there are times you really, really want to. Like now, kneeling on Tsukishima’s dorm room bed, waiting for you boyfriend –Your boyfriend. When will you get used to that?— to meet your eyes.

“Okay, what’s been going on? I feel like you’ve been off all week.”

The blond’s eyes flicker up from his phone, the glint of his glasses concealing and reflecting. “Nothing’s been going on.”

You narrow your eyes. “Your words say ‘nothing,’ but your tone and behaviour say ‘something.’”

Tsukishima’s lips press together. You used to think, in the early days of knowing him, it meant his displeasure, but now you know it means he’s trying not to smile. “I feel like you haven’t said a word to me in like, a week,” you say.

His brows raise, just a touch. “We were on the phone for an hour last night.”

“Not the point, mister.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, despite his flat voice. “It’s nothing.”

“So there is something,” you exclaim, pointing a finger at him.

He rolls his eyes, but the hidden beginnings of his smile break through. “I just said it was nothing.” He places his phone down, patting the slice of space beside him. “Are you going to come pick a movie, or what?”

You gnaw your lip, eyes roving over his face. “Is it me?” You ask, instead of moving. “Did I make you mad?”

A brief flit of confusion and then a line between his brows. “No,” he says. And then, “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

You stare at him, the keen lines of his beauty, his face that is somehow simultaneously so familiar and so impossible to read. It’s a strange thing, to be so comforted by him and so hesitant of him in the same breath. You thought being friends first would make everything simple, but a relationship has sharpened certain emotions. Made you sensitive and intuitive to things you might have previously shrugged off.

Slowly, you lay yourself down next to him, hands stuffing into the pockets of your sweater. You’re immediately shuffled around, Tsukishima’s large hands grabbing onto you, tucking you underneath his chin in a loose spoon. His fingers slip beneath your top, tracing delicate circles over your skin. “I’m warning you now,” you say, instead of answering his question. “I’m choosing a romance.” His laptop is half-hidden under his bed and you bend over and grab it, his hand slipping from your body.

“Of course you are.” Tsukishima’s voice is on the edge of amused, though a line still sits between his brows. He waits until you’ve clicked on a regency drama before placing his hand back on you. A soft pull of violin and piano burrs from the laptop speakers, and he blindly watches the camera pan over fogged greenery. You curl into yourself a little more, getting comfortable in his arms. “What is with you and period pieces?” He asks. He can feel your starry eyes taking in the movie without even seeing them.

“I’m sensing you’re about to tease me, and I reject it in advance.”

Tsukishima smirks into your hair. “I’m just saying this is the third time you’ve watched this with me.”

“It must be because I like pretentious people.” You reach behind to pat him on the arm. “That’s why I’m with y—ow!” You give a laughing little yelp when he pinches your waist. He smooths it over with delicate touches immediately after.

A few minutes pass as you both settle into the familiar patterns of the movie. You try to let the thought of his strange, distant behaviour from the past week slide. It’s true, there have still been long phone conversations and moments of new wondering sweetness. But you know him, and know him well. You can tell when his mind is preoccupied or distant, when he withdraws from you. You can see when his eyes linger on you, face indiscernible. And despite being in his arms now, with the easy banter between the two of you, you can just feel something’s up. There’s something he’s not saying, something he’s hiding. You know it. You can’t be this close with someone and not know it.

“Hey,” he says, squeezing you slightly. “Why would you think I was mad?”

“I dunno,” you say. You can see the barest traces of his expression reflected off the screen of his laptop, just his eyes, concerned, looking at you.

He tsks, reaching over you to tap the lower volume button.

“Hey,” you protest playfully, “it’s my favourite part.”

“It’s literally the beginning sequence. Nothing’s even happened yet—”

“Shhh, they’re about to meet.”

You’re avoiding his question. Tsukishima sighs but acquiesces, turning the volume up again. He can hear the whisper of you mouthing the lines of dialogue along with the actors and it makes him smile in earnest, from behind you. “You’re a dork,” he mumbles, affectionate.

“I might be a dork, but you’re a dork-lover, so whatever Kei.” Your words are casual, distracted as you watch the movie. You’re only half-aware of what you’re even saying. Despite this, Tsukishima tenses behind you. You almost don’t catch it, the shift in his body language. You almost let it go. But then you hear him huff and he turns away from you to lie on his back.

You hesitate, and then click pause.

Rolling over, you see Tsukishima with a hand rubbing at his eyes, glasses perched on his chest. He's frowning, frustrated and annoyed. Your brows pull together at his expression, his sudden change in mood.

“What’s up?” you ask, voice tentative. Tsukishima slings his arm over his eyes like a light is blinding him.

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” you sigh, sitting yourself up. That only seems to frustrate him further, which in turn frustrates you. You hate not being able to read him. “This is why I thought you were mad at me. You’ve been all over the place, Kei. One second you’re sweet, the next you’re clamming up. What’s going on?”

He lifts his arm from his face just enough to peer at you. “You think I’m mad right now?” It’s a genuine question that forces a baffled laugh from you.

“Uh, yeah? Or annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed,” he says, annoyed. You can’t tell if it’s directed at you or not. He sees your reaction and covers his eyes again, like he has a headache.

You’re skeptical. “Really?”

His voice is a mumble. “Am I that difficult to read?”

“Are you kidding me?” You give another little helpless laugh. “You’re being damn near impossible right now.” Your voice is equal parts exasperated and amused.

He drops his arm completely to his side, but before you can catch his eyes, he looks away. You watch his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth, his fingers absently grabbing at his shirt to wipe at his glasses. You give him a minute. You give him two. He doesn’t say anything, seems to be struggling for words which is so unlike him. You’ve only ever known Tsukishima to be quick-minded, always ready with the last word. He flickers his eyes to your face only to see that your gaze is already trained on him. He blinks, arrested by you, caught in you regarding him. His lips part, as if to speak.

Then he looks away again. You almost groan in frustration at his refusal to communicate but then you see it –the rare splotches of pink on the top of his cheekbones. He’s blushing. His hands are fidgeting, looking for something to do. He’s being shy, you think, in incredulous realization. He’s gone shy, looking at you. You stare at him with the beginnings of wonderment. You give him a slow smile.

“Shut up,” he murmurs. He’s struggling to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time. The tips of his ears are going red. Your frustration leaves you. Somewhere in your heart, you are beginning to understand.

“I didn’t say anything,” you counter softly. The more flustered he gets the wider your smile grows. “What’s wrong, Kei?” you ask. He shakes his head slightly, biting his bottom lip as though to keep words from spilling out.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He’s trying to be resolute.

Your brows flick up gently. “You’re really going to make me dig this hard every time you’re scared to say something?”

“No,” he says immediately and then frowns. “Maybe.”

You almost laugh. “God, you’re a baby sometimes.”

He lets out a breath through his nose. “I’m bad at this.” It’s hard for him to admit.

You’re gently amused. “Apparently. Who would’ve thought? Mr. Cool Calm and Collected, brough low by a measly girl.”

Tsukishima snorts, rolling his eyes, blush deepening. You think he’s about to tease you back, but when he looks to you again, you’re stricken by his solemnity. “But you’re not, are you?”

You tilt your head. “Not what?”

He gives you a tilted smile. “Just any girl, I mean.”

It’s your turn to grow flustered, but you refuse to let him distract you. “Oh, you’ve got lines, do you?”

He shrugs slightly. “I’ve got to have some, after all the romances you force me to watch.”

“You know, sometimes I think you should be a regency romance hero.”

“Oh?” He’s dry. “I’m flattered.”

You match his tone. “Because you absolutely refuse to be straightforward about your feelings.”

He goes quiet again, which ten minutes ago you would’ve thought was irritation but now you know to be shyness. He really does belong in Victorian England, you think to yourself, fighting a smile for your boyfriend’s sake. You can almost picture him as a surly bachelor, in a waistcoat and cravat, always with the clever quip –until it’s time for some honest emotion, that is. Those have always been your favourite characters, though, you admit to yourself. And the scenes where they say everything but what they mean to are the scenes you always look forward to the most.

You purse your lips together and take one of his hands. Despite himself, Tsukishima laces his fingers with yours instantly. “You know why I actually like regency romances so much?”

The blond raises a brow at your tangent. “Why’s that?” he asks, wary.

You give him a patient smile. “All the best scenes, when they’re trying to say something important or romantic? And they don’t have the words?” You squeeze his fingers. “They camera always zoom close to their hands, like their gestures explain everything they’re feeling. Everything they can’t say aloud, they say it with their hands.”

You watch his expression go from unimpressed, to wry, to hesitant. You bat your eyes expectantly, unlacing your hands to flip your palm up, resting it on his abdomen. His fingers circle around your wrist, keeping you close. “I see,” he says, trying to be indifferent.

You squint at him, unrelenting. “So, are you mad at me?” you ask again, with purpose.

Tsukishima sighs at the question, but you tap your knuckles against him, insistent. He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe himself, and then with his free hand, draws two letters from the English alphabet into your waiting palm. N-O.

“Okay,” you nod, thinking. “Are you upset about something?”

His mouth twists down. His index finger presses into you firmly. N-O.

Your brows furrow. You look at him, trying to discern his expression. “Are you scared?”

A pause. When he draws on you again, it’s slow and light. Y-E-S. His face is red again.

“Why are you scared?” you murmur.

Tsukishima shakes his head. “That’s too many letters.”

“Okay, fine.” You turn thoughtful. You think of how strange he’s been acting the past little while, his new shyness. You look at him now and see the flicker of openness in his face, just a moment of it. Moment enough for another piece of understanding to enter you. “Is it something to do with me?” You’re nervous, suddenly.

Tsukishima moves his finger. Y-E-S.

You fumble with your words for a moment, but you have to ask, “Is it…do you regret that we, uh…do you not want to—”

Tsukishima squeezes your wrist lightly, silencing you. When you look at him, he eyes are firm. “I could never regret anything between us,” he says. He’s so serious he’s stern. “Okay? So don’t even let your mind go there.” The look of relief in you softens him. He squeezes your wrist again. “And…” He breaks off, cursing lightly. “I’m sorry I’m shit at talking about my feelings sometimes. I don’t want you to think I’m mad at you, or hurt. I’m…I’m not mad. Not even close.”

Your words are quiet. “Then what is it, Kei?”

His eyes shutter again. You see his instincts kicking in, his long-standing habit of hiding his feelings beneath a veneer of indifference. You know it well, and for a moment you think you’re about to resign yourself to those habits of his. Some things just needed more time, you suppose. But then he sees your imploring eyes, your sweetly parted lips. You care so much and he hates, hates that he can’t say some things easily to you. But he needs to make you understand that it’s not because he cares less, not at all. The complete opposite in fact. It’s because he cares so much more than he wants to let on.

The thing –this feeling—that he’s been grappling with for the past while (longer than he would ever care to admit) comes rushing in, a force he never thought he would feel, not like this. To his own surprise, he’s trembling, just a little. Little enough to hide. He lets you see it though, his nerves, as he moves to sit up, glasses thumping onto his mattress. He grabs your hand again in both of his, gentle as can be. You grow still as he raises your hand to his lips, pressing featherlight kisses onto the tips of your fingers. Your eyes are wide. He always shocks you with affection when you least expect it.

And then, with ceremony, he brings your hand down to his lap and turns it palm-side up. His breathing is shallow, you can hear it. His eyes are trained on your fate lines. You feel your heart knocking against your chest so hard you’re sure Tsukishima can pick up on it. He brushes his fingers over your palm so faintly you break out into goosebumps. You catch his faint smile at this. And then, slowly so that you don’t miss a single letter, he begins to draw on your skin.

It’s three words, eight letters. You close your eyes to try to stave off tears but that only makes them fall. Tsukishima takes a long while to look up at you again, but when he does, he’s a completely open book, no pretense, no metaphor, no armour. He looks younger, vulnerable. He looks helpless, almost, at the feeling that’s taken hold of him now.

You close your hand slowly into a fist, like his words are somehow a physical thing and you can hold onto them and keep them close. He’s written his heart into the palm of your hand. You want to protect his heart, forever.

Slowly, you reach down for one of his nervous hands and you bring it into your lap. Tsukishima closes his eyes when you start to trace letters onto his electric skin, like he wants to remember the feel of them. When you’re done, he pulls you into a kiss that melts the afternoon into the evening, and then into the night.

I L-O-V-E Y-O-U T-O-O.

[moonflvver]

Your Kaeya abandonment anxiety got me thinking. How about some headcanons about Kaeya with a reader who always makes sure that he knows they will be there? Through thick and thin, through every fight, the reader will always have Kaeya's back. To the point where, the reader will just quietly wrap their arms around Kaeya and not say anything. To just let him know that they're there and that he's loved.

character: kaeya alberich x reader

warnings: mild angst with comfort

a/n: anon, I love you for sending this to me. I may have gone a little overboard because I know that you only requested headcanons but I just needed to get this out.

w/c: 452

Being with you is like a breath of fresh air for him. Oftentimes kaeya feels like he’s in a free fall with no one to catch him, with no one to trust. He doesn’t lean on others because he’s learned that he can really only rely on himself. But with you, it’s different. It’s almost as if you have some sort of sixth sense when it comes to him. You can tell instantly when he’s falling down that familiar rabbit hole of anxiety. In those moments when his heart is pounding against his ribcage while he’s imagining the worst you silently wrap your arms around him and suddenly he’s being brought back down to earth. Almost as if to say that you’re here. You’re really here and you’re not going anywhere. And god he just melts, he can practically feel every muscle in his body relax under your touch. He’s no longer tense and he just lets you hold him. But despite this, there are still moments when he’s so sure that you’re going to leave. That you’ll turn your back and just walk out the door. After a particularly heated fight, in the aftermath of words that both of you wish you could just take back, an awkward silence hangs in the air. And now he’s truly petrified. He doesn’t even hear himself say it but it just comes out anyways, “Please don’t leave me.” His head is downcast and he’s silently gripping the chair next to him as if it’s the only thing that’s keeping him standing right now, and you swear that you see him shake just a little. And it’s heartbreaking to see him like this. To see kaeya the esteemed cavalry captain of the knights of favonius reduced to a broken mess over a simple argument that you knew meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. So you walk over and you place a hand on his cheek. He looks up at you and those deep blue eyes of his are filled with tears that are practically screaming at you, and you hear another broken plea fall from his lips. “I just can’t, I can’t lose you too.” And now of course you’re crying because you can’t ever imagine your life without him. So you whisper, “Hey, who said I’m leaving you?” And you can see a simultaneous flash of surprise and relief across his face as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. He’s wetting the collar of your shirt with tears but it doesn’t matter, because you’re here. So if kaeya is a man in free fall, you’re the hands that he knows will reach out to catch him every time. 

[koiswho]

ft. idol!kazuha x stylist!reader

summary: you found out about Kazuha's newest scandal and tried to let him go, but he didn't want that.

tw: hurt/comfort, fluff, jealous kazuha, insecure reader, basic ahh fic

(not proofread)

You blinked back your tears. God… you felt stupid. He was your co-worker for god's sake. An idol, at that.

Of course he's going to date someone like her. Someone cute but hot, someone kind and passionate. Not a stylist who barely makes a living.

You almost felt like quitting your job, almost. But heartbroken was not a valid reason. You were decent at your job. No way they would let you go that easy.

You kept scrolling through the internet. Searching for more and more and more gossips and theories about Kazuha's scandal with the upbringing actress, Ayaka.

She was the better you, you convinced yourself.

You weren't like her. She was soft, sophisticated, grounded. She has tons and millions of fans waiting at her door. Whereas you, hard, jagged, messy and overall not desirable by the whole world.

You read comments like:

i'm not even mad. match made in heaven fr fr

MY NEW OTPPPP!!!! <3333

if they aren't together i swear i will be having problems

It felt like fate laughing in your face right now.

After you had finally convinced yourself that he might feel the same as you, you found out about this dating rumour. You thought people would trash it, hate it or opened a twitter thread on why they shouldn't see each other again.

But they supported it. Shipped it. Even encouraging it. You felt ridiculous. How come that one time you hope a couple gets ablaze but only for it to be loved.

Your stomach twisted with disgust. You shouldn't be jealous. You should be happy, because he's happy. And if he's happy isn't that enough? He deserves it and you shouldn't get in his way.

Unexpectedly, a message notification popped up.

Kazuha<3:

today's shooting is exhausting, isn't it?

please have a good rest

goodnight and have a sweet dreams

You cursed under your breath. He is the last person you want to talk to right now. Without another glance at his message you put your phone on Do Not Disturb mode.

You're happy for him. He's happy now with someone who is not you. You are happy. You shouldn't bother him anymore.

Your thumb hover on the block button. Contemplating on should you end it now before he pushes you away or comes clean with him.

You sighed and turned off your phone. You have work tomorrow. You don't have time to think about nonsensical things. These feelings are a hindrance to your professional work.

You shut your eyes with a heavy feeling. Desperate to get some sleep.

The following days were stressful. You avoid Kazuha like the plague. Overworking yourself with everything, even stuff that doesn't even involve your work field. Every time Kazuha wants to approach you, you bolted out before he can even get close to you.

He bombarded your phone with text messages and sometimes a call. Texts like, “where are you?”, “are you busy?”, “I have trouble with my clothes, please help me” and, “don't overworked yourself”.

Every text received is like a stab into your heart. You tried so hard to move on but he keeps making you feel like this. Keep popping into your life when you want nothing for him to be gone.

Kazuha was a mess.

When you first ignored his messages, he brushed it off. You're probably too tired to reply that night. So he waited.

He texted, even called but you didn't acknowledge it. It's like you don't care about him anymore and it hurts him more than he thought it would.

He even goes over and beyond to search for you. Asking every crew member if they know where you are. He even asked that light crew member he disliked because he looked at you too long once.

Their answers were always vague, because they don't know where you were specifically when all you do these days is run around the studio.

By a week, he lost his mind. Not one message was read by you. He thinks back everything he did that may be the cause of this. But he came to nothing.

Kazuha was known for his calm composure. He thinks clearly even in desperate situations. But now, he couldn't even eat food right. Accidentally bumping people when walking. Zoned out too many times than he can count.

His friends started to notice his odd behaviour. Aether was the first to confront him, “you’re not even listening to me dude” he stated when Kazuha didn't respond. They were taking a break from practicing and decided to sit down by the couch. He was ranting about his sister's creepy boyfriend, Ajax, to Kazuha but he took way too long to give an opinion.

“... huh?” Kazuha blinked back to reality, “oh yeah, yeah, that sounds good” he muttered and continued to disconnect from the world yet again.

“what?”

Aether sighed and slapped Kazuha's back, “snap out of it bro” he said and Kazuha yelped which was uncharacteristic of him, “what's gotten into you? you've gone cuckoo or something?” he frowned, genuinely concerned for his friend.

Kazuha slumped down to his knee and groaned, “it's nothing… don't worry” he mumbled under his breath.

Aether didn't accept that answer, “it is not ‘nothing’ if you're dissociating every few seconds. Even Xiao is worried. And you know how rarely he expresses his emotions” he urged.

Kazuha thought for a moment. He was being difficult now. Is that why you hate him now? Because he was difficult? No, you don't hate him. At least that's what he thought at first. He wasn't sure now but he hoped that's not the reason you avoided him.

He leaned back on the couch and took a deep breath, “... you remember that girl I was talking about?” he started. Aether nodded. He remembered that Kazuha almost giggled when you first replied to his texts. But that was months ago. Back when you were new here.

“yeah, our stylist, right?”

Kazuha nodded and told all about what happened. Not that anything really happens but more on what didn't happen. How you went silent on him. And how the silence's eating him alive. And how can he fix it?

After listening to all of this Aether had a brilliant idea. He gave Kazuha a smirk and said, “I think I have an idea”.

You were assigned to accompany 5WIRLS to a charity event hosted by a newly award winning actor. Honestly, you didn't want to go. But the higher ups insisted on you. So like it or not. You have to go.

Dressing yourself up in your best dress. And you are good to go.

They sent you a limousine to escort you to the event. You're grateful for that but that also means you are going to be the closest you have been with him.

It had been a full three weeks since you shun him out of your life. It's going smoothly as you planned. But it's all going to be ruined now, if you don't make bad decisions.

You got in and spotted him. Sitting far back with an empty seat beside him. You make a brief eye contact with him and avert your gaze. Though, you could feel his stare on you still. Like he was saving it and inviting you to sit next to him.

No way that would happen.

Venti currently occupies two seats. You don't know why but he can't be greedy now. So you asked him to move so you could sit there. Venti, with no care for the tension between you and Kazuha, nodded and moved for you.

You sat down, finally. The driver started driving to the destination. A mansion, up on the hill. They said the scenery there was amazing and you can't wait to see it with your own eyes.

Everyone was minding their business. Aether was chatting up with Kazuha. Heizou had his earbuds on. Xiao was eating up his probably the 5th Almond tofu he had tonight.

And Venti, who was beside you, teases you and your dress. Saying, “I didn't know you had style, miss stylist” he grinned.

“why wouldn't I? That's literally my job”

He hummed and tapped his chin, “well, you always show up to work with hoodies and sweatpants—”.

This is getting embarrassing. You couldn't hear him expose you more so you quickly change the topic.

“why are you sitting on two seats anyway?” you cut his words.

He stopped talking for a few moments. His face turned unreadable which creeps you out. He was loud and wore his heart on his sleeve, most of the time. This scenery was new to you.

You anticipated his answer. Does it… does it have to do with Kazuha? You get rid of the thought as fast as it has entered.

“Because…”, he started, “because I can, duh”

You should've known this is one of his jokes. He laughed, which wasn't funny to begin with, and you gave him a long glare. “You should be a comedian with all your funny little jokes”, you remarked with full sarcasm.

Venti, only seeing the positive side of your word, clung his arm around your shoulder, “I knew you appreciated my humour, miss stylist” he smiled, “we'll make a good partner!”.

Now he's just saying nonsense. You glanced up and didn't miss how Kazuha's shoulder was stiff and his eyes narrowed a bit at the arm clinging on you.

Xiao, who was unknowingly listening, raised an eyebrow at Venti, “but… I thought she was already spoken for?” he said, genuinely and loudly.

Venti let out an embarrassingly loud 'huh?!'. You choked on your own spit. Aether and Kazuha stopped talking. Heizou took one of his earbuds off.

“oh, I must've thought wrong then” he casually brushed it off.

It was silent. Everyone slowly digested what Xiao had just uttered. Venti was the first to speak, or rather shout, “since when? and by whom!”, he wailed as he shook your shoulder. Kazuha’s jaw tightened as a small scowl slowly appeared on his face.

Heizou watched as everything unfolds. He couldn't stop his own smirk watching everyone's reaction. You had a horrified look on your face, Venti’s heartbroken, Xiao's stoic as usual, Aether was confused, and Kazuha… oh he had the best expression on. Heizou never saw him this mad. If they're in a cartoon, streams are probably coming out of his head right now.

Tonight's going to be interesting.

After what happened in the limo, you never want to face any of the boys anymore. The embarrassment will last for generations to come. Great… maybe you should consider getting a new job.

After arriving, you were greeted by the host's sister, Kamisato Ayaka. You cringed when she welcomed you with open arms. Now you can't help but feel how perfect Kazuha is with her.

You took a sharp breath and gave her a smile. Kazuha was right behind you and you skipped inside. You don't think your heart could take it if you saw them together.

The party was lively. The mansion was beautiful as it had been said in articles and news. You saw glimpses of the host, Kamisato Ayato, talking to other guests. You saw him get the award on TV. And after watching his nominated movie, he totally deserves it.

Since you knew no one here, except 5WIRLS, you lounge around the buffet with a drink in hand. Suddenly, someone tapped your shoulder. Turning around you're met with ethereal beauty.

It was Kamisato Ayaka. Again

A smile plastered on her face, “I'm sorry to bother you, but I've never seen your face before” she inquired.

Your whole body froze on the spot. She thinks you're a bum! and she wants to kick you out because you don't belong here!!

“um… I…”, you muttered as your mind spiraled into overthinking.

As if she could read your mind she quickly apologized, “that’s terribly rude of me. I meant to say that I want to know you. You look quite fascinating. I'm sure if we've met before I would notice you” she added and ease your worries.

You nodded at her explanation. She wanted to get to know you? your night can't be more surprising than this…

But it did.

Currently, you were having a bubbly chat with Ayaka. She was much more talkative than people had said online. She exceeded your expectations. Which makes sense why Kazuha would choose her.

You tried, so so hard, to get rid of him in your mind but you can't. Everything you see reminds you of him. Breeze in the morning, red coffee cup in the office pantry, fluffy stray cats along the street to your home and now, Ayaka.

She was perfect in every way. Even her laugh sounds like a melody people would put in songs.

Somehow, the conversation shifted into work. She was enamored by your line of work. When you mentioned you worked with 5WIRLS, she gasped audibly.

Her eyes shined differently and your heart dropped to your stomach. You brace yourself for what seems like a fangirling session from her.

“You get to see Aether every day?!” she squealed.

You blinked. She stood there while holding your hand. Her eyes sparkling with excitement.

What.

She can't be serious. Out of all people, Aether? Why didn't she ask about her boyfriend? Her alleged boyfriend.

You tilted your head to the side. Not bothering to cover your confusion, “... Aether? sure, I see him any other day” you said.

She jumped and proceeded to bombarded you with questions about him. You answered them as best as you could though still confused. Her questions seemed to have no end. You didn't know how to let her off when someone interrupted her.

“Having quite the chat, huh, sis?”

Deep but sultry voice. You looked up and saw the man of the party. Just like his younger sister, he was a man with beauty. Light blush tinted your cheek as he eyed you.

He gave you his winning smile, “I'm sorry about my sister. She must've talked your ears off” he chuckled. A breathy and attractive one that can make women of any age swoon.

You shake your head, “no, not at all” you said, “she was a great company”. He hummed and nodded. Ayaka was telling her brother off but he stayed rooted.

As if on cue, the music changed. People parted to the side. The middle of the room was reserved for those who wanted to dance. Ayato gave you a look, one that you didn't catch but Ayaka saw it.

“Don't even think about it” she muttered to her brother.

Ignoring his sister's protest he offered a hand to you, “people are getting on the dance floor” he smiled, “may I?”. You couldn't help but see past his request. It's odd.

Ayaka gasped and loudly expressed her opinion, “brother! you can't charm her so suddenly! I was talking to her” she exclaimed. A dance wouldn't hurt, would it. You fought your inner thoughts if you should accept it or not.

Nonetheless, you took his hand. He offered back a gentle grin as if to mock Ayaka. “I'll talk to you later, Ayaka” you waved her goodbye. Taking your leave from her, you strode to the dance floor with Ayato.

He held you close. His arm on you waist and back. Guiding you through the music. It was nice. You couldn't help but voice out your confusion, “why suddenly asked me to dance with you?” you said as he kept his pace with the beat.

He chuckled, “a friend told me to, said it will be interesting” he twirls you around, pressing you back onto his chest. You let out a gasp at the intimate pose.

“look over there” he breathe in your ear. He tilted your chin up so it matched his view. Your cheeks tinted with blush. You don't know what you're supposed to be looking at.

Then you saw it.

Kazuha.

Far away there with unreadable expressions. When you made eye contact with him you squirmed. He didn't waste any second and walked to your direction.

Ayato’s hold on you soften. You could feel him grinning as Kazuha stormed to you. “Very interesting indeed” he muttered to himself, “I'm sorry, fair lady, if you feel uncomfortable with me. But your knight in shining armour have come to your rescue”.

Kazuha was standing in front of you now with a glare that could kill Ayato. You're surprised he can get here that fast. He swat Ayato's hands from you, “have a little respect, would you?” he spat.

He was fuming, and you've never seen him like this before. It was… refreshing? to see him show other emotions than his usual calm demeanor.

Without giving Ayato a chance to speak he grabbed your hand and pulled you away. You were super confused. He pulls you away from the crowd of the party. Leading you out of the mansion.

When you had gotten far, you pulled your hands from his grip. That made him stop in his tracks.

“What are you doing?” you exasperated.

His back was turned away from you. He didn't look at you. He couldn't face you. How could he? He acted on his emotions. Seeing you get touchy with Ayato back there made him feel something he's not proud of.

He had spent so long keeping his emotions at bay. So long had he control himself from being a slave to his damned feelings. But it came to you. He wanted nothing more to rid all the rules he made to himself. He wanted nothing more to be selfish and have you.

He stood there in silence and you were getting frustrated.

“so are you gonna stand there or—”

“Is he it?”, he asked. Voice so low it could be lost in the night's cold winds.

“Is he what? Kazuha, I don't understand—”

He finally faced you and it shattered you. To see his face so contorted. His eyes glimmered with held back tears, probably the same as yours. His brows scrunched down to form a sad frown.

His hand moved to hold yours but he hesitated and pulled back. He took a deep shaky breath. “Is he the one that you love?” he searches your eyes to tell him that no, you don't love him.

You shook your head and Kazuha let out a breath he didn't know he held. He smiled, though a weak one. He took a step forward to you but you took two steps back.

He frowned at your action, “... then, why are you avoiding me?” he demanded. He made no move to close the distance.

You shifted where you stood, “I… I didn't avoid you” you mumbled. You did and he didn't knew why. You can't bring yourself to tell him. And right now you realized how selfish you've been to him.

He scoffed, “you didn't reply to any of my messages, calls and every time I saw you, you ran” he mocked.

His words hurt and you flinched unconsciously. You opened your mouth to explain but nothing came out.

“did I do something wrong?” he started.

“no—”

“then what is it? tell me and I'll fix it—”

He's searching for answers that you're not ready to reveal yet. He's pushing you to your limit and you can't take it. Your heart can't take it anymore. “it's me, okay! it's me” you snapped, “I can't do this anymore”.

He was stunned by your voice. it's sounded broken and wrong to him. He wanted to comfort you so bad. “... can't do what?” he whispered low.

“us!” you exasperated, “I can't deal with your affection to me when you already have other woman in your arm”. Tears already pooling in your eyes. You're not going to cry in front of him.

Like a stab, he froze in his place, “wha… what are you talking about”. He couldn't believe what he heard. What do you mean by that? Don't you know he only had eyes for you. Don't you know he faked a wardrobe malfunction just so he could talk to you. He had always, always went out of his way for you and he never once thought it was a hindrance.

You took a deep breath, “I saw those rumours” you explained, “I'm happy for you… I really am. It's just, I need a moment to myself”.

He swear he could hear his heart shattered. He shook his head, “No!” he could only utter. He took a step forward, “please, just— listen to me” he begged.

“I was only helping her. She was a fan of Aether. My family know her family. And she asked me for help and I—”,

He grabbed your wrist, “I could've never love anyone as I did with you” he pleaded and puts your hand on his beating chest. You wanted to pull away but his grip on you was firm.

His heart was thumping so fast you were worried. You looked at him in disbelieve. His lips tugged into a smile, “I hoped that's enough proof for you” he said and squeezed your hand.

He whispered your name, “I love you. So much that it's eating me alive”.

You frowned, “... why? why choose me? why not be with someone like Ayaka". The conclusion that he could have loved you like you did to him feels foreign and impossible. But you want to believe him. You want to be happy with him.

His other hand cupped your face, “there's so much reason for me to. And my first one is because it's you” he chuckled, “the way you laugh, the way you light up when you talk about your favourite thing, the way you always fall asleep in meetings”.

Your face burned at that, “that doesn't sound like a good quality to have”. You unknowningly leaned into his touch. Your body leaning closer to him.

He hummed, “and it makes me fall in love with you all over again” he smiled and rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

You gazed at him. His looks on you were soft and tender.

“... I'm sorry” you blurted, “I shouldn't have assumed”.

He shook his head, “no, I'm sorry. I should've told you long ago” he said, “although, I can think of a few ways you can make it up for the days you ignored me”.

You gulped, “what do I have to do?”.

“Go on a date with me, tons of dates” he smirked and embraced you. You let a breathy chuckled and cling yourself to him. You could do that. You definitely could do that.

“You seen Kazuha anywhere?” Aether asked Heizou who was helping himself with the food. He hummed for a second and shrugged, “last I heard of him, he took the stylist out of this place” he recalled.

“Aw shucks” Aether muttered under his breath.

Heizou arched his eyebrows, “why? you need him for something?”.

Aether huffed, “I was supposed to help him with her. Ugh, I hope he didn't do anything stupid. I had a plan too!” he grunted. He took something off Heizou's plate and munched on it to calm his frustration.

Heizou swatted Aether's hand away, “I already took care of that, don't worry” he nodded.

That made Aether tilted his head, “uh, you ‘took care’ of it?”.

“yup” he popped, “I told Ayato to get close to her and boom he's running to claim his girl” he explained.

Aether took a moment to digest this and gasped, “that's so much better than mine!” he whined. He continued to nagged Heizou to tell him how he found out about Kazuha and you. But Heizou kept his mouth closed.

Safe to say that neither of you were being subtle about it to begin with.

[sunny-milla]

+12 hrs

timeskip!oikawa tooru x fem!reader

When sweet young lovers crumble apart due to dreams and frayed paths, with things left unsaid meet 7 years after their breakup. Does time truly heal?

slight slowburn, angst, fluff, exes that can't move on from each other, slow love, oikawa being a yearner

13.8k words, harassment (not by Oikawa), foul language

Oikawa Tooru, a smart, popular, athletic guy in class 6 which was truly surprising considering he seemed to divulge his time more in volleyball. Y/n, admired him-- not in that way, yet at least, she liked ambition and hardworking and Oikawa Tooru embodied that.

You attended one of their matches back then in your 2nd year as you were invited by one of your friends who highly recommended to go to watch gawk at guys from the Shiratorizawa team. You saw Oikawa then, each kiss of his palm on the ball carried his blood, sweat and tears. He had a desperation unlike no other in that court. You liked that more than anything about a guy.

However, when that match concluded she was disappointed-- not because Aoba Johsai lost but a glimpse of wavering faith passes his eyes. Annoyance, she noticed that too. A familiar feeling you've known yourself. Knowing that someone out there better than you knowing you've worked harder more than anyone else, but when you were handed with bad cards; what choice do you have but do your best with them?

You walked away before Shiratorizawa even received their medals and whatnot, there was nothing more to see but Oikawa's obvious frustration on his face. He was familiar, not because they've been at the same class since first year but because she felt the same way as he did. You pitied him, no, you felt for him. You prayed for him silently, to go learn to get through it like you did.

Oikawa felt a piercing glare throughout the match, not because at least 200 people were on the stands watching but a certain glare of judgement that irked him. He felt like every piece of him was being watched, unpacked and carefully inspected.

Then, when he looked at that direction, he saw that girl who seemed to be in competition with everyone else in the class even though no one was truly a part of that but her. The girl that has 8 hours of volunteering every week at a local hospital, the girl that had her nose buried in a book despite lunch time, the girl that the teacher came to when no one else could answer that differentiation with trigonometric functions on the board or when no one bothered to put their hand up to solve the pH of a buffer solution. He didn't like her nosy eyes.

He hated that, Iwaizumi was the only exception for those type of gazes and no one else. Maybe his girlfriend of two months but it'll still piss him off. No one could possibly understand him, only his dear Iwa-chan understood him almost perfectly.

At the start of third year, Oikawa broke up with his girlfriend. Of course he shed a few tears here and there, but after two weeks he was himself again. He was not even 18 yet, too young to spend another minute crying and too young to waste his time on an incompatible relationship.

He was in the same class as you again, you were sat in the first row, window seat, and sat in front of him. It gave him the perfect view to inspect you, hate you a little more.

After that odd seething anger towards her, he began seeing her face more. He picked out her face almost immediately in that canteen, he noticed when she would park her bike with three spots in between them, he would notice that you lingered a minute longer in a page when it was Statistics and that you were ahead by five questions when it was Mechanics-- but for some reason, you never seemed to see him, not even in your peripheral vision.

You walked past him like a ghost, wired earphones plugged in whilst two of your friends chatted away even when he looked at you intensely. Albeit, he was hurt. Did he have a one sided annoyance? Were you not enemies? It infuriated him for some reason, how could you unpack him just like that like you knew him for all those years but not even acknowledge him ever again. Oikawa Tooru wanted equal hatred from you.

After 6 weeks of sitting behind you, he also noticed that you liked Organic Chemistry, it only had your best hand writing and had the most stickers on the front of your notebook compared to Inorganic Chemistry or and subject in fact.

Oikawa also learnt that you stayed after school in the library to revise, he shook his head at that, what would happen if you were to ride your bike home and some creeps come up to you? Especially in the winter, the sun disappears at half past four for goodness sake.

It was Wednesday break time when he first spoke to you, you and him just had Maths more specifically you were learning Statistics. It wasn't a hard topic, it was the easiest one compared to Pure or Mechanics. Unfortunately, you absolutely despised Statistics. Oikawa knew you were struggling, he knew it took a blow on the no.1 student's pride.

When everyone had left, he stood to your left, his calloused finger pointing at your messy working out "You need to find the mean and the variance before you can write out the distribution; It's based on the Central Limit Theorem and you accidentally treated it as a Poisson distribution instead of a discrete." You looked up from your paper, the grip on your pen slightly loosened when you saw it was him talking to you.

"Oh, thanks." You said slightly embarrassed, it was a rookie mistake-- even five year old wouldn't make that frivolous mistake.

Oikawa felt flustered, you spoke to him softly which contrasted your resting face and your confident tone every time you spoke in class. "It's fine, I did that too on the third question." He lied, Oikawa's pen flowed like river during the entire 2 hour lesson but it caused a small chuckle to come out of her so it was a great lie. Totally worth it.

There was an uncomfortable pause. Shit. Oikawa thought, "If you'd like, I can help you whenever you need." Just the hell is coming out of my mouth. "I am available after practice." Fuck. "Only if you need it though!" He then ended his endless babble.

You, though suspicious, was not one to deny free help when it came to her worst topic in Maths. "Really? Thanks!" You smiled at him, it was the first time he ever saw you smile, he swallowed his spit hard whilst he looked down on you. Oh no, she's cute.

Oikawa Tooru was now eating his lunch, a well balanced meal containing soy-glazed chicken, brown rice, broccoli, carrots and four egg rolls. His mind wondered endlessly, he was supposed to find reasons to hate her not help her. Gosh, mission failed. "The hell's wrong with you today?" Iwaizumi said as he sat down with two of their other friends with lunch trays on their hand.

Oikawa didn't even hear him. Hanamaki looked at the direction he was looking at, a group of four girls but only one could possibly be connected to Oikawa. "She's out of your league, move on bro." He says bluntly while grinning at his own comment.

"Who?" Matsukawa turned his head around immediately to look at the direction Hanamaki and Oikawa were looking.

"Reader, everybody wants her." Hanamaki replied in a 'as a matter of fact tone.'

"Ohhh, her." Matsukawa nodded slowly as he realised who they were talking about.

"Wait, she's popular?" Oikawa asked, quite befuddled by the new fact. Iwaizumi, who sat across was quite shocked his friend was interested in someone and looked at him suspiciously.

"Duh. Number one student, part of the student council, kind-hearted, and pretty. Every guy in the team wants her." Hanamaki explains whilst Matsukawa nods at every word as he spoke.

"You guys like her?" Oikawa asked, in a slightly worried yet competitive tone, Iwaizumi looks up from his food and watched the scene unfold before him.

"My type, totally my type, but she deserves someone better." Matsukawa replied in a faux saddened tone.

"Don't do anything funny, Oikawa." Iwaizumi said in a warning tone. "She's a nice girl, if you don't have time to take her seriously then don't even bother asking her out." Iwaizumi looked at him with a look that Oikawa knew that he should listen well.

"Iwa-chan, you have a crush?" Oikawa looked at him with a glint of mischief and the mocking tone seeping out of his tongue. Iwaizumi cocked his head to the left, and pointed the tip of his tongue on his right cheek.

"Shittykawa!" With that, Oikawa spent at least two minutes getting his hair pulled by Iwaizumi the small ruckus gaining your attention.

During practice, Oikawa was at his tip-top form, but everyone noticed that he spun his head around at least every five minutes to look at the passing time. A very unusual behaviour for Oikawa.

He teased Iwaizumi more, and teased Kyotani even more. He was less respondent to the girls that came and watched him play, and a small smile hasn't left his lips ever since the start of practice. "Is he high or what?" Iwaizumi mumbled quietly when Oikawa walked with a slight bounce to his feet.

The coach also noticed Oikawa's odd behaviour, but he kept his silence knowing that teenage boys were a mystery. When the clock hit 6.00, the grin on Oikawa's face grew and grew. The coach ended the session by delivery the plan for tomorrow's practice and Oikawa nearly bolted out the gym doors.

"Shittykawa!" Causing him to halt his revved up tempo. "Are you not staying late?" He asked with his eyes squinting at the brown haired boy whose mind seemed to have gone to wonderland.

"Hmm? Says who?" Oikawa happily skipped towards the locker rooms to get changed, not even bothering to help clean up the blue and yellow coloured balls on the floor. Meanwhile, the rest of the team looked at each other with confused gazes.

Oikawa leaving when actually dismissed for practice? Never.

The setter walked with his arms to his sides, his hand laying on top of the side of his thigh while tapping his fingers randomly to an unknown beat, humming as he strolled the school hallway. Oikawa's heart was beating, perhaps with overflowing hatred.

When he finally reached the library, he went and looked for you, he saw you near the back, far away from the librarian. He watched you for a moment, standing still amidst the peaceful library, whilst you tabbed your Biology textbook.

His slender hands pulled the seat next to you gently as to not to startle you with a screeching wooden chair against the oak floor. You gave him a gentle smile, and greeted him by saying, "Oikawa-san, how was practice?" You were truly different from what he perceived you to be.

"Fun, got to use my muscles after sitting on the chair for hours." He replied complainingly. "Have you been here since four?"

She shook your head at his question, "Nope, I was helping arrange the excel spreadsheet for the club budgets."

"Please give my club more funds, L/n-chan." He places his hands together, a teasing pleading eyes whilst his cherry lips formed a pout.

Oh no, he's cute. The polite smile on her lips faltered and turned to a more genuine one, her eyes slowly squinted when her lips curled up. "I'll see how good at tutoring you are, then I'll consider." She gives him a playful wink.

"Don't worry, stats will become like the alphabet to you once the session is over." He smirked boastfully, after all he was the only reason why Hanamaki and Matsukawa were even passing all of their classes.

Oikawa went ahead and grabbed his textbook, he never really used his notebook for Maths, just his exercise book. Instead, he labelled his textbook with sticky notes with things that were going through his mind when he was doing questions to fully comprehend the topic.

Y/n opened her exercise book which was shamefully riddled with crossed out lines and hand writing that detoriorate as the question number increased.

"Write out the first question, then I'll explain." She did as he told. Oikawa scooched a lot closer to her, their chairs only an inch a part, their shoulders touching which became unbeknownst to them. It wasn't uncomfortable even though it was their first day talking. A sense of ease in the air knowing that his genuine kindness only wanted to help her.

When he began talking, his voice was affirmative yet gentle, not military-like but the type of voice you'd use when speaking to an old person about how to use a phone. She became immersed to his voice, like a dry sponge soaking in every word that flowed out of his mouth. When she didn't understand it even the slightest, she asked a question, then smiled brightly when it finally came to her.

Answering the made up question he wrote on her lined paper, there was a still silence between them. The time passed by woefully, a little selfishness inside of the Seijoh's captain hoped that she'd been lying the whole time and never truly understood it.

The scratch of mechanical pencil on her paper the only thing breaking the serenity, he watched her face-- not her working out, the hesitation when you typed in the numbers on the calculator and the number seemed deceivingly wrong. You held up the calculator in front of his face, a gleam of hope that you got it right, "Well done, L/n-chan." He beamed a proud smile.

He found it annoying that you understood it so fast, he wanted to stay at least fifteen minutes more with you. Time went by so fast with you, not even volleyball practice went by at the pace. Oikawa looked at the hands of the clock that was to his left, 7.15. "Thank you so much!" Y/n whispery yelled, he'd never seen this much enthusiasm for maths. "Can I treat you to something?" Y/n was not used to help without return, she was raised that way.

Her parents returned every single act of kindness with a gesture of appreciation, it was a way to express their gratitude. "How can I possibly let a lady pay for me?" Oikawa brushes it off as a joke. His sister nailed that to his head when he was young, she made sure Oikawa grew up to be a gentleman.

"I really want to though." The glint of joy in your eyes weaned off a little.

"If you insist, then maybe you can get some milk bread." He says passively as a joke but she nodded her head to that firmly, he knew she didn't pick up the joke.

"Let's get you home, wouldn't want you to ride your bike in the dark." She nodded with a smile and the two began packing up their stuff. Once they were finished, they tucked in their chairs quietly and left.

Oikawa couldn't help but notice their height difference when they were walking side to side her height barely reached his shoulders, and when he looked at her, he had to tilt his head downwards. For an unknown reason, it made Oikawa Tooru's heart pump more blood.

Y/n had a slight limp, and it didn't slip past Oikawa's observant eyes, she placed more pressure on her right foot. Oikawa was familiar to ankle sprains, he and Iwaizumi used to play by the wooded area of the parks and the roots that came out of the earth caused those nasty sprains.

Oikawa fiddled with the strap of his teal messenger to ease his nervousness, but she seemed totally fine. Perfectly fine. It was infuriating how perfect she was.

"So, how's volleyball looking like? Would I be right to presume that it's your choice of career." She turned to her right and looked up at him to make eye contact, but Oikawa broke it immediately.

"I think it's going great." A short answer, indicative of his discomfort.

As much as she wanted to drop the topic, she chose not to. "You'll be amazing." Y/n says with the most utmost trust. A complete stranger who didn't know him, perhaps giving baseless compliments soothed his heart slightly. "You're hardworking, talented and persistent."

Oikawa had never felt more connected to anyone up until that moment. A sense of knowing when she spoke, she was the wisdom and comfort he sought for. There and then, Oikawa wanted her.

As Y/n began to walk to her bike, Oikawa suddenly yelled, "Stop!" Causing her heart to flinch a little. "I think you shouldn't ride your bike, the wheel's a bit loose. Might come off." He swallowed his spit, hoping she'd trust his lie.

"Oh." Y/n says disappointingly, her ankle was hurting so much and walking home would just be a continuous reminder of the ache. "Thank you for warning me, what would have happened without you?" She forces a smile. "Well then, I'll see you tomorrow. Please get home safely." A polite bow, indicating that she was leaving.

"You can't possibly walk at this hour. It's so dark!" Oikawa held her wrist and gently took her to his bike. "Sit behind me, I'll take you home."

"How could I possibly?" Y/n denies his kind gesture.

"It'll make me sleep better tonight if I take you home. Do you know what creeps are out there?" Oikawa randomly flailed his arms around when he explained himself. He took off her shoulder bag away from her and carried it himself, sat on his bike, indicating that he was not taking a 'no' for an answer.

Y/n exhaled heavily knowing she couldn't possibly win against his persistence. She sat sideways on the seat behind him, gripping on the seat to make sure she won't fall but Oikawa turned his head around and took both of her hands and wrapped it around his waist. "So where do you live?" He asked.

"(Some random address)" She replied.

'What's with this aggressive kindness?' Y/n asked herself.

Oikawa began to pedal his way to that address. His cheeks and ears felt hot. He's never been this forward with a girl. Y/n laid her head onto his firm back after resisting her urge to do so for 4 times.

When they were riding the bike, they cycled past the 7-Eleven with a two people sitting and slurping the noodles whilst they faced the window. A light brown haired boy and a wavy haired boy looked at the scene before their eyes. They knew those two visages. "I saw that right, right?" Hanamaki asks his mate who was equally confused as him.

"I think. Maybe?" He, too, was befuddled.

"Interesting." They both said at the same time.

At the corner of his eye, Oikawa thought he saw Matssun and Makki but chose to ignore it and decided to enjoy the current situation at hand.

"There's still a chilly breeze from winter, you think?" Oikawa tucks his chin in a little deeper in his scarf after he asked the question.

"Yeah, still feels like winter to me." Y/n always felt cold, her hands and feet were always cold despite wearing leg-warmers or cashmere gloves. "I love spring though, I like the fact that it's slightly chilly and I can bring a jacket."

"L/n-chan that's a very specific thing to like about spring." He commented. 'Odd, but cute.'

"I mean, in summer you can't bring jackets since it's hot and since I have a lot of stuff I like in pockets, it's a bit of a hassle to keep 'em in my bag." Oikawa hesitantly nodded at her words. "Takes so long to just grab a damn lip balm from your bag, you know." She said, causing him to chuckle at her complaint.

"Now, that makes more sense."

"You, what's your favourite season?" Asking out of mere curiosity.

"Autumn, I like the looks of barren trees." He looked back at her whilst speaking.

"Oikawa-san, you're weird." She laughed at his face, to her the look of barren trees brought her heart down but to this guy it seemed like it was the opposite.

"Does that mean I'm special and stand out?" He pressed his lips together and pretended as if he was in a deep thought.

"Yes, if that's the answer that pleases you." She giggle once again, echoing around the empty streets, the street lights falling on her face giving her a slight orange hue.

"L/n-chan, you're mean." He pouted, a signature move of his.

"No, I'm honest."

"Meanie!"

They both laughed together, the bike slightly swaying due to Oikawa's divided attention.

They finally reached her home, which was two houses away from Iwaizumi's; Oikawa hadn't noticed earlier when she gave him her address but her house was just right around the corner and a bulb lit in Oikawa's mind.

She hopped off the bike and so did he, he walked her to the steps of her house and handed her the shoulder bag. "Goodnight, L/n-chan."

"Goodnight, Oikawa-san. Get home safely." She wanted to meet his eyes but he averted them once again.

She opened the door and walked in, giving him one final wave before she closed the door.

Oikawa let out a long exhale once Y/n closed the door shut. "The hell's wrong with you Oikawa Tooru, looking away like a damned middle school kid." He uttered under his breath, embarrassment seeping in his vein causing him to bite his lips.

Dang it. I thought she was annoying? She's not supposed to be cute and totally my type.

On the other hand, Y/n leaned her right hand on the door, "Why the hell were you so bold Y/n!" She yelled at herself. It's not like she liked Oikawa, so she didn't know why she so desperately wanted to impress him that she understood the material awhile ago. She didn't know why she didn't mind his presence.

Sure he has an admirable personality but that's about it! He does have broad shoulders though, he's six foot, funny, smart, charming...but! He has nothing else besides those things.

Y/n was supposed to study until 22.00, but her mind kept wandering off to Oikawa Tooru causing her to scream out randomly. Suddenly, her door barged open "ARE YOU GOOD?" Her older brother yelled at her.

"Yes, just don't understand this..." She obviously lied arousing suspicion but no further questions was asked and her brother left her room.

"Oikawa Tooru, you're dangerous."

Just around the corner of her street, the 17 year old boy rolled around his bed and was screaming at his pillow. His nephew caught him doing so. "Weirdooooo." Takeru says as he closed the door after thinking his uncle could play with him.

He removed his face from his pillow and watched the door be sealed shut, he spread out his arms and legs on his bed then placed his arm over his eyes.

"L/n Y/n, you're dangerous."

That night, two teenagers could not sleep.

The next morning, Oikawa got out of his house early and sat on his bike waiting outside Y/n's house. Was it weird? Perhaps. However, Oikawa forgot a very important thing.

A hand landed on his shoulder causing him to flinch instinctively. "Shittykawa, what are you doing here?"

"Iwa-chan, just waiting for a friend?"

"Don't think you have anyone else besides me and the two." Iwaizumi raised his brow. "Also, this is Y/n-san's house."

"YOU'RE ON FIRST NAME BASIS? UNFAIR!" He exclaimed outloud causing the lady who was flowering her front yard to look at the two. This caused Iwaizumi to slap him on the head.

"Of course," Oikawa's jaw further slackened. "Her mom and mine are at the same book club."

"Why isn't my mom helping me prosper." Oikawa clicked his tongue at the fact.

"I told you already Shittykawa, she's a nice girl-" Oikawa cut him off before he could say anything else.

"I know. Who else can treat her right but me?" He says cockily causing a vein to appear at the tanned man's right temple.

"You're full of shit."

"I am not."

They both heard the door open causing their heads to turn. "Good morning Hajime-kun! Good morning Oikawa-san!" There it was, a rusted arrow shot right through Oikawa's heart. '-san,' '-kun' the obvious tell-tale of their relationship.

"Y/n-san, good morning." A friendly smile appeared at Hajime's lips.

"Mornin' L/n chan!" Oikawa happily chirped, acting as if his whole world just didn't crumble in front of him.

"Oikawa-san, am I riding the bike with you again?" She asked, Y/n prayed it was a 'yes.'

"Of course, your ankle's still hurting right?" Oikawa accidentally slipped out. "I mean, your wheel is loose." Iwaizumi looked at him funny, it was on obvious lie.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat. 'Did he lie so that I won't ride my bike on a sprained ankle?' He made her jittery, it was so annoying. "I see, thank you once again." She walked towards the bike and Oikawa took the bag from her shoulder, again, as if he was programmed to do so.

Iwaizumi found it all too odd. She sat beside him, her right arm around his waist.

On their way to school, Iwaizumi rode his bike a little slower than Oikawa did, he watched them exchange jokes and giggles. No way, Oikawa was actually being decent. The guy never even made his ex laugh once, all he did was make her complain.

Iwaizumi was worried for his dear friend, Y/n who seemed to express the same energy as Oikawa. All he could hope was that Oikawa wouldn't do anything to mess it up.

When they arrived at school, Oikawa and Iwaizumi parked their bikes next to each other and Y/n patiently waited whilst they parked. "I'll fix your loose wheel for you, Y/n-san." Iwaizumi said while he looked directly at Oikawa, knowing the bike was damn well in perfect shape.

"I'd appreciate that Hajime-kun."

When Y/n attempted to take her bag from Oikawa, all he said was "Might as well lift a little bit of weights while walking you know."

'Why is he such a gentleman.' Y/n winced.

They walked to the third year hallways together, exchanging conversations about how their classes were going and a little snide comments from Iwaizumi complaining about every opinion Oikawa dropped.

They gained all the attention when walking. Y/n walking in between Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and the very detail they noticed was that Oikawa was carrying her bag. Her friends, whom she did not was walking a bit behind her kept nudging each other with their elbows while giggling for their dear friend who in the very first time was talking to guys.

The whole week was like that. To Oikawa’s dismay, Y/n’s ankle had already healed over the weekend. No more excuses to have her ride his bike.

Though they did get closer, closer to the point that Oikawa walked out of his extra practice five minutes earlier to walk towards the library to pick you up.

From that week and onwards, Y/n and the fellow Seijoh captains rode their bikes together. She became acquainted to his friend, and he became acquainted to hers.

It was June, Seijoh’s volleyball team officially competed with Karasuno. Usually, it would be Iwaizumi, her and Oikawa walking home together but not today. They were busy.

Oikawa was out celebrating their win at a local restaurant known for its hearty meals with large portions and Y/n was walking home alone. Normally, Oikawa stuffed his face with carbs and protein but he didn’t feel like it, a sense of unease sitting on his stomach.

The restaurant was a good 20 minute walk from Y/n’s path and Oikawa could sense something. He knew something was not right.

Y/n hated walking home alone ever since she got used to the two captains presence, a sense of loneliness and the boys were practically walking shields and swords.

Being a woman meant being gazed on, cat-called on, disrespected on. Many people like to say that they’d fight when experiencing assaults, but for most it’s not. The biological instinct to just not fight back, not mind it, to pray it’ll just go away.

When Y/n’s hand was grabbed by a man in his mid-forties, grey and white stubble, his hair line receding back, she kept apologising saying “I’m not interested, I’m sorry.” She wanted to scream, run, fight back but she physically couldn’t. Her heart sunk when she realised what situation she was in.

She really wanted to push his hand away from her, but her heart was beating so loudly it prevented her mind from making a rationale decision. For the very first time in her life, she felt a blood-chilling fear that crept up to her neck.

That second, the second she was about to burst into tears and beg for her life, she heard thudding footsteps and saw a curled up fist meeting the guy’s jaw. She looked at the man who was panting across her, sweat glistening under the moonlight, his auburn hair sticking to his forehead. He placed her behind him, his broad back covering her. She was safe now. She’s okay now.

“You little piece of shit!” When the guy was about to get up, he kicked him. Oikawa’s heart was pounding on his ribs, he was shaking with fury, Oikawa just wanted to get rid of him. He couldn’t stand that look on Y/n’s face, her eyes lost of life and looked like she was just about to give up, he didn’t like that and it was all because of this man.

Oikawa stood in front of the guy who clutched on to his chest, who must have broke a rib or two from his kick, Oikawa Tooru raised his knees, his foot directed to the man’s ribs. “Tooru-kun you’ll kill him!” Oikawa heard his conscience, a shaking hand pulling him slightly, he looked back and saw her teary eyes. Oikawa’s anger blossomed.

Oikawa wanted to respond but he couldn’t, he just wanted to get mad at this pervert who caused Y/n’s lashes to dampen, her nose to sniffle, her hands to shake. “Y/n-chan, please let me beat the shit out of him.” He pleaded, slowly putting his foot down to the man’s ribs and stepped on him.

“Shittykawa! Stop! Don’t do anything more!” Iwaizumi had successfully chased after Oikawa and saw the scene as he was a few paces behind Oikawa. “I’ll call the cops. Get your damn foot off of him Oikawa!” Iwaizumi was trying to mediate him, he knew his friend always experienced emotions to the extreme.

Iwaizumi called the cops who got there in less than five minutes, Y/n gave her statement there and so did Oikawa. The police took the man with them and the other police car took the three teenagers home. Y/n held Oikawa’s throughout the whole ride, taming the flame sat in his heart.

When they reached home, the police told Y/n's parents what had happened. Her father dragged back by her mother when her dad attempted to go to the precinct while yelling "I'm gonna beat the shit out of him!" and the officer told him to "calm down."

The officer also said, "This young man has beaten you to that." He taps Oikawa's shoulder. Oikawa Tooru had earned Y/n's father respect, he immediately approved of the boy.

Her father looked at him with twinkling eyes, he knew Y/n was well-settled with a boy like him.

They grew even closer after the incident, a quiet understanding between the two of them knowing they liked each other but couldn't decide to make a move. They were both scared, they both knew how ambitious each of them were, they didn't wanna hold each other back.

She attended his practice matches and his official games, what can missing a few hours of revision even do? Can’t hurt that much.

Oikawa spent lost a few hours of his practice too, spending them with Y/n to study for subjects. They didn’t need each other’s help for anything, but it felt nice. A soothing feeling caressing their heart like it was cupped by a pair of gentle hands full of warmth.

To Oikawa, Y/n was balance. Y/n who gave him a space of haven when he wanted to avoid volleyball for a while, a space to stay when he plateaud. Y/n who reminded him there was life outside of volleyball, he'd long forgotten about the river near their house and Y/n reminded him of that again. Y/n reminded him of the beauty he'd long forgotten.

To Y/n, Oikawa Tooru was her selfishness. Tooru who gave her breaks in between her study session, Tooru who gave her time to forget about universities or grades. Tooru who gave her time to indulge in fun fairs, bowling alleys, or karaoke bars. Tooru reminded her of the silly child beneath her heart she'd always oppressed.

Y/n was watching the match between Karasuno and Seijoh, Seijoh won but the victory was laid on shaky ground. Oikawa felt threatened, a feeling he despised.

Though their victory was well celebrated, Oikawa was not yet relieved because there was still Shiratorizawa to go against. Oikawa's heart couldn't rest nor could Iwaizumi's. It was their second to last chance to attend Nationals, a big dream for a big fish stuck on a small pond.

The days before Shiratorizawa competed against Seijoh, Oikawa and Iwaizumi lingered for longer in the gym, along with a few first years. Oikawa's routine, one he's honed since he was a kid, refined it even further day by day.

Y/n watched him pour his heart into it all, gave him hope, and also watched him spiral when Seijoh seemed to be no match for Shiratorizawa again.

Oikawa didn't know what to do. He wasn't like the others, not like Miya Atsumu who gained recognition nationwide, not like Iizuna of Itachiyama Academy, he wasn't like those who reached Nationals. No matter how big he was in Miyagi, no matter how better he may be, no one will ever know his name because he's never stepped foot in the Tokyo dome.

That evening, the three walked home in silence, Y/n didn't dare break the silence because to them, this was comfort and understanding.

Before Y/n got inside of her front door, the captain begged. "Hold me, please." Tooru looked at her with pleading eyes. She did not hesitate to even give it to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, and his arms around her waist too. His chin laid on top of her head, taking a hold of her scent to calm himself down, he embraced her tighter.

Y/n was the only one who understood him perfectly. He didn't need to say anything. Just utter silence, warmth, and you. "Tooru, I know you gave it your all but just know, it maybe now, maybe tomorrow, a few months from now-- the fruits of your labour will come." After your words, you pulled away from him slightly, looked up at his tormented visage.

"I know it's hard to believe in it, but trust me it will come. Just like winter leaves and spring comes, things will change gradually and slowly." Tooru looked at you, hesitant of what to do next, he wanted to thank you but he knew he could express it another way.

His arms slowly slipped out of your waist, his roughened hands--evidence of his hard work, cupped your face, his right thumb caressing your cheek causing you to slightly lean on his palm, then his lips met yours. A gentle, sweet kiss, melting the melancholy away from his heart. It was steady, slow, just an exchange of love expressed physically.

Tooru brought you deeper in the kiss, mouth slightly more agape, slow slithering of tongues, slightly more sloppy than the start. Your hands wrapped around his neck after the kiss deepened, Oikawa Tooru felt like he was in cloud 9. Despite all of his losses, his one victory triumphed over everything.

Pulling away slowly, catching your breaths, you smiled at him. "Thank you, Y/n."

Untangling slowly from each other, the heat slowly rising from your cheeks when you realise what had just happened. "I think I'll go now, your brother looks like he wants to kill me." Oikawa chuckles whilst he looked at your brother who was peeking out of his bedroom window. "Goodnight, Y/n-chan" he leaned that and gave you a peck on the corner of your lips and whispering your name softly.

With that, the evening concluded with two teenagers who couldn't stop thinking about the shared kiss. The moon settled on the sky, watching over the dreams of those who slept, making sure they were kept safe so that no one would steal their desires.

The morning came, the bright light of the sun hid the figure of the moon. That day, and the every single day that came after, you and Oikawa began walking hands together in school. He carried your heavy books out of and to your locker, he watch your chess competition, you clung onto your title as grandmaster rightfully and Oikawa's heart would always swell of pride.

And you? You made sure Oikawa's water bottle never ran out during his solo practice, you would always pat the sweat on his face with your handkerchief which he would slyly give you a quick peck. When you'd bake sweet goods, you always added two scoops of protein and altered your recipe so that they'd befit his physique.

Iwaizumi knew you were good for Oikawa, he'd never been more thankful for the fact that someone changed him for the better good. Though, he'd never admit that in front of Loserkawa. Iwaizumi Hajime was proud of what they became.

The ship rocked yet sailed safely, that was until nature came with its lightnings and ruckus rain which broke the whole ship apart.

Y/n didn't know how this fight started. She didn't know when she started feeling these emotions. She didn't know when she started feeling frightened and insecure. Y/n never felt this before, and it threatened her whole being.

Y/n supported Oikawa with her whole being, if he'd had killed someone she'd find him the best lawyer and hide the evidence, if he had cried she would wipe her tears, and if he'd smile-- she would be there with him, holding his hand.

Graduation was only a month away, and Y/n could feel Oikawa's shifting behaviour. She didn't know if she was overreacting, but when she confronted him about it, Tooru told her "it's nothing, it's just in your head." So, she convinced herself for a few days.

The sinking feeling in her stomach, the kisses that begged her to shut up every time she wanted to question him, the robotic goodbyes, Oikawa Tooru was hiding himself from her. She knew it was bad to not trust or wait for Tooru, but the past month felt like she had a noose around her neck, a rocky chair below her feet. She was treading on rusted nails.

Tonight Tooru and Y/n were having a sleepover, Tooru was downstairs grabbing snacks for their movie night, waiting for the popcorn to finish in the microwave. Y/n was waiting in his bedroom, she took a glance at his study table and saw the piles of papers meaninglessly scattered. She sighed and her hands began to work, stacking the papers on a pile in different categories.

As she was about to throw away the papers that were obviously trash, she saw a crumpled paper in his bin that had a logo of a team that Tooru was a fan of. Y/n's body went cold when she saw that the piece of paper was from Club Atletico San Juan, his name written on the top left corner of the page congratulating him for getting in.

She knew what this was immediately. Hesitation. Y/n was holding Oikawa back, Tooru was being held back by her. All of it came rushing to her, the realisation that she was the reason why Oikawa faltered, she was the reason why Oikawa was straying from such a huge opportunity. It paused her breathing.

Y/n swallowed the spit in the back of throat. Y/n thought she knew Oikawa better, he was practical, calculative, ambitious, she knew that Oikawa couldn't have anything that would hold him back from his dreams.

It was a painful confession to make, Y/n was bad for him.

The following evening, Y/n had called Tooru over in the park, it was night and the sun had disappeared hours ago. Tooru arrived in his black joggers and grey hoodie, his hands tucked in his pockets, had he been the Tooru he was few months ago; he would have hugged her and asked her if she was okay.

"Tooru, let's stop this." Her own words trampled on her hardened heart. "I can't be here anymore." Oikawa's hands slipped out of his pockets, his shoulders felt weak all of a sudden. "I don't want this anymore." Every spit of her word stabbed her deeper.

"Y/n-chan, where's all this coming from?" He grabbed her hands gently, afraid that she might push him away if he touched her too fast or too harshly.

"You can't act like this Tooru, you're being unfair." Her eyes glossed, she looked up at him like everything had fallen apart. "You can't act like nothing's wrong when you've been hiding things from me." She didn't move away from his touch, she didn't want to. No, not yet. Just a few more seconds, at least a minute more. "How can you hide the fact that you were wanted to go Argentina." She didn't question him, just disbelief in her voice.

Tooru couldn't open his mouth. How could he possibly tell his one and only love that he may never come back until a few years later when he's the best version of him he could be for her. "Am I holding you back? "Did you think I was gonna leave you when you were gonna fly off?"

No, you weren't, he knew you'd wait for him and that was the scary part. "Tooru, how can you think of me like that?" He still couldn't open his mouth, he could only pull you in his arms and soothe your back. You couldn't pull away, you still couldn't.

"I'm sorry. It's not like that, I swear it's not like that Y/n-chan." His voice paced, panicked. "I'm sorry for making you feel scared, please forgive me. I know I wasn't saying much, I know that I avoided you, please forgive me." Tooru held you tighter, you were slipping away like water in between the gaps of his fingers.

But you pulled your hands away gently, preparing to let him go. "Tooru, we can't be together when I'm holding you back. You're Tooru because you chase your dreams, you're persistent, you're ambitious." He took a step towards you, but you took a step back. "I can't steal your dreams from you." The moon glistened over their heads, partially covered by clouds. "If that means breaking up with you then I'm prepared to do that."

Oikawa prayed that you were joking, but your saddened yet collected composure said otherwise. "Y/n-chan, you're not holding me back. I swear." He lied blatantly. Oikawa knew he could only have one over the other and he chose you; it wasn't sweet or endearing-- it was heart-breaking. How could he be so selfless just to make you happy?

"Don't say that, I know you. Why would you break your own heart for me?" Bejewelled gems fell from your eyes, dampening your soft cheeks as they streamed down, he wanted to approach you but your stance screamed at him, telling him to move away.

"I can't be the one holding you back Tooru, please forgive me." Oikawa didn't even get a word out of his cracking lips, he was confused. Confused as to why you cared more about his dream than he did. He never understood that night, was he that easy to push away?

Oikawa always believed relationships were fleeting, like a piece of paper floating along city roads, but your relationship with him was different. It was the kind of relationship he wanted to see through until his muscles depleted, until his back curved, until his skin sagged. He wanted to see the hard times and the good with you. He wanted to wake up next to you.

Oikawa Tooru simply loved you. What good was volleyball without you?

You? You had the same dreams too. You wanted to cheer for his games, you wanted to watch him rise when everyone else doubted him, you wanted to reach your dreams together but it seemed like you were the only one reaching yours. Staying with him was also breaking his heart slowly.

Graduation came, the cherry blossom petals dance around everyone as they took their pictures. From afar you watched him, the Seijoh 4 taking their photos, your heart ached a little but Tooru was officially heading off to Argentina. His dreams became your dreams too.

Oikawa Tooru will never know how much you prayed for him. He will never know how much your heart broke. He will never come to know how much you loved him. He will never come to know how his dreams became your dreams too.

He looked back at where you were, a scroll on his hand and his phone on the other. You were giggling with your friends, had he been a better man for you, you would have stood by him.

Argentina, a country full of sunshines, the country buzzed with excitement to a foreigner like Oikawa. It was new, refreshing, a reminder that he needed change. He got an apartment according to the contract he got from his club, he felt excited and nervous, a language foreign to his tongue was whispered in every corner of the street. He wished that he could tell you about it.

Tokyo, a city full of bright lights, the paths were filled with people, everyone's pace were hastened that it made yours too. The buildings looked down at you, stood in rows neatly. It wasn't like Miyagi's serenity--it was chaos, this city cornered you.

You were right, this city, this country didn't allow Oikawa to fly. Tooru was better off outside this country where he was miles away from you and hours ahead of you.

Your first month of lectures at med school was cutthroat, people didn't care if you didn't hear what the professor said, they didn't let you copy off of their notes when you were a few steps behind from writing. It was frustrating, you wished you could tell Tooru about it.

The next month you were able to catch up, the pace seemed normal to you now, you were proud of yourself for managing it well but you couldn't find someone to talk to. No friend to talk about the university workload, no one to talk to about how life drained you bit by bit.

Medschool chipped on your soul, by your second year of med school, it became harder to get out of bed, your curtains were always shut close, you had to drag your feet to the lecture halls. It was tiring yet fulfilling.

On your first year of residency, the food in your fridge was always expired, your cabinet was filled with instant ramen or canned tuna, it was no use to keep have an apartment when you were sleeping in the hospital for five days straight, your indoor potted plants gifted by friends at your housewarming party had turned withered. There was no life surrounding you.

You'd forgotten Tooru somehow, just like how one breathes, it remained yet became unnoticed. You always thought you forgot about him, more like prayed you did, you just pushed him at the back of your mind like you did with every single thing that made you human. Anger, sadness, frustration, joy, you made it all perish until all you could think about was the title of a 'doctor.'

On the other side of the globe, Oikawa Tooru played volleyball. The first month was annoying, his teammates hardly trusted him, doubted his tosses, doubted his skills, but he proved them all wrong when he became more and more refined day by day.

The language barrier made him uneasy, most of his teammates spoke in Spanish, they could speak English too but Oikawa learned textbook English and not volleyball specific English.

He missed Japanese food too, he always thought things he ate at home every week were boring but he began missing them after some time. The snacks he'd buy at the convenience store after school with you became rare here, it was hard to find Asian markets and the prices were always 5 times more. He missed everything about home, especially you.

Life flourished for Oikawa, he gained fame in Argentina after his first official match with the team. He silently thanked you, because you pushed him here. Oikawa finally understood that it was the hardest decision you have probably ever made, it was something his childish 18 year old self could have never comprehended.

Every interview, every endorsement, every touch of a ball in Argentina was all thanks to you. You were right, he would have never been truly happy without volleyball. He just kind of, scratch that, really wished you watched him as all of this happened.

A selfish part of him hoped that he still lingered in your head, do you randomly look for him in the crowd too? Do you feel his shadow like he feels yours? Do you search up his name like he does with yours? Do you sing his favourite song like he does with yours? When you close your eyes, do you see him like how he sees you in every dream? Do you miss him like how he misses you?

Does he haunt you like how you haunt him?

His teammates always ask him, "Are there no beautiful women in Argentina for you?" when they would go out to drink. "How can an attractive guy like you be so single?" He was the centre of their laughter, he'd always brush it off, he knew they didn't mean offence but his heart still beats for you. He knows that's something will never change. He wondered if that was the same for you too.

"No one seems to be my type." He'd joke back, everyone would burst out laughing but it was the truth.

"Our setter has high standards, eh?" Oikawa laughed with them hoping it would drown out your haunting presence.

Your co-residents made fun of you, always talking about how you only cared about work and was practically married to it. Every holidays you would go back to Miyagi and visit your parents, you travelled out of the country once when you graduated but that was it. No boyfriend. Drinking at bars alone. Meeting up with your friends when you all magically had a day off at the same time but that was it. To others, your life embodied loneliness but to you it was solitude built upon your pride.

You were finally in your last year of residency, the last year you'd get bossed around by doctors, the last year you'd tolerate disrespect from the doctors who blamed you for mishaps that wasn't even yours. You were going to be free in a few weeks.

Driving home at 1 a.m. wasn't nice, your eyelids are daring to close on you and the grip around the leathered wheel loosened as each minute passed. You were slowly regretting the choice of not leaving the hospital in a taxi.

You switched to another live broadcast to some stupid radio station that invited famous people, ranging from YouTubers to celebrities. As the current one about dogs caused your eyes to droop more.

"Mister Oikawa," You heart suddenly felt heavy like it did 7 years ago, "is it true that you're still single?" The interviewer spoke in English as this was an American broadcast.

"Yes." His voice was deeper when he spoke English, it carried his accent slightly a symbol of his home.

"Why?" The interviewer asked, that was what everyone wanted to know. Y/n waited for his answer impatiently.

"Me and my greatest love parted ways after I went to Argentina, she was the one who pushed me to it because I didn't wanna leave her." His voice carried his emotions, but masked it with confidence and professionalism.

"Oh! So you're still in love?"

"Yes." He replied with pride and solemn in his tone. She could hear his bittersweet smile across the radio waves.

"Do you have a message for her incase she's listening?" The interviewer suggested knowing this would be picked up by sport magazines well.

"Y/n-chan, I hope you're doing well." It was short and sweet, it was just like him. "Thank you for pushing me to my dreams." An interview meant for volleyball now turned to a love-sick, sappy interview.

You parked in your apartment building, leaned your forehead against the wheel and cried silently. "Damn you, Tooru. It's okay for me to have not moved on, but you should have." Your nails dug through the heel of your palm forming crescent shaped moon on your skin. "Just leave me be." You hated Oikawa because he was the only man who could ever make you hesitate and falter.

Not even med school or residency caused self-doubt, but he did. His voice, his soft visage, his laughter, his cries, his everything always made you pause and question if you were doing the right thing. You never once looked back at your decisions until he came around. You hated that he made you more humane and less practical.

Before you unlocked your car doors and head off to your apartment, you told yourself that you needed to see him once more so that you could get rid of his shadow for the rest of your life.

After three long dreadful weeks, your feet reached Tokyo's international airport, 1 large luggage on your right hand and one medium size on your left, your hand bag perched on top of your luggage as you checked in.

Walking inside the plane, they were mostly filled with Europeans whom you presumed to have visited Japan for vacation. When you watched the plane take off, you had asked yourself if this was what Oikawa saw too when he was leaving home. Maybe he felt more deeply than you did, perhaps he teared up a little knowing he'll only come here for visits and not to stay.

Guilt rested on your heart throughout the whole flight, you had pushed away Tooru so cattily without even giving him a chance to say anything, perhaps your immature 18 year old self should have spoken more to him softly rather than hanging him off a cliff. Perhaps, you should have sent that message of, 'have a safe trip.' Perhaps you should have taken him to the airport. Perhaps you should have never left him at all.

These thoughts were always home in your mind, thoughts that would surface every time you drank too much Smirnoff in your couch, or when you would wake up from dreams that included your endeavours with him.

When the plane finally landed in the soil of Argentina, the captain welcomed the people onboard and a few clapped which you refused to join.

You hailed a cab, spoke in English when you spoke to the driver as it was a language that was commonly used by the people of Argentina. He helped you carry your luggage on the truck and spoke to you in the cab. "So, what are ya here for?" He asked, a common thing to ask tourists.

"I am," you hesitated "visiting an old friend." Regret wrapped around your tongue.

"I see." He must not have noticed your saddened tone, which you inwardly thanked cause you wore your heart on your sleeve so easily when it came to Tooru. "Well, I hope ya enjoy it here. Very, very good food." He chuckles slightly.

"Very bad traffic though." You say as a joke.

"I know." The old man sighed then shook his head animatedly.

The rest of the ride was silent, the country was rich in colours, the sun was blazing down but was not humid like Japan which made the heat more tolerable. 'I wonder if Tooru drove along these roads too.' Your mind pondered off to him once again.

When you reached your hotel, you immediately took a shower and laid on your bed then turned on the TV. It immediately took you to a sports channel that was hyping up the fact that the Division 1 of Men's volleyball was commencing tomorrow, something that you already have a front-row seat ticket for.

Oikawa's face came on screen, his blue uniform, a colour that always looked amazing on his complexion, his top hugged his biceps tighter, his shoulders broader, his jaw sharper, one thing that hasn't changed was his hardened gaze when it came to volleyball.

The sun settled later than it would have in Japan, the sunset was a gradient of orange and purple which left you in a state of sublime. For a moment, all you could think about was the beauty of this land, your burdens left your shoulders and you breathing became slower. The world was truly beautiful.

You weren't excited to see Tooru, but maybe if you'd sleep a little earlier you would get to see him quicker. Maybe, just maybe.

When you woke up the next morning, you prepared yourself and ordered room service for breakfast. It was a simple omelette garnished with parsley to make it look more appealing, the silver cutlery has no water stains, the coffee served with it wasn't made up of instant coffee but made from Moka pot which you could immediately differentiate by the taste.

The morning was slow, every passing minute felt like a drag, it was hard to choose the clothes you wanted. A part of you wanted to impress Tooru by wearing a good choice of clothes. A pink-printed floral dress that swayed like silk in the air, the dress had a built-in corset which pushed out your chest slightly, the dress ended on your ankles, a simple white closed toe stiletto to pair your dress.

Your heels were low, not even two-inches which made sure you could walk around it the whole day, the strap of your bag hang on your shoulder which you gripped on tightly as you walked through the ground. You hated crowds, it made you anxious cause it felt like you couldn't see anything ahead of you but the heads of people that were above your height.

However, the sight in front of you eased your anxiety. There were little kids holding banners of Tooru's names, wearing his jersey number, they dragged their parents through the crowd so that they immediately reach their seats inside the stadium. You were proud of what he became, and suddenly you knew that your decision wasn't a mistake. This was the life Oikawa Tooru deserved.

When you found your seat, the seat at the very front row which gave you the best view to watch him play. All of a sudden, you were eighteen again and cheering him on from the stands of a smaller gymnasium but now everything has changed.

Oikawa was the second to walk in the stadium, the number 17 written boldly on his chest, his chest huffed out as he took his routinely deep breaths before the game started.

Oikawa felt something unusual, a familiar feeling from 7 years ago but decided to push it aside knowing this was a very important game.

Tooru had an old habit back in the days, he'd search for you in the crowd filled with thousands of people. It was a habit he had to kill because it dismayed him day by day knowing you'll never step foot on this soil. He knew that the match against Karasuno was the last you've ever seen him set or serve.

The game began, the referee blew his whistle and within the given eight seconds, Oikawa sent his serve on the other side of the net which landed cleanly on the vertex of the white lines. A roar from the crowd emerged, "There you go ladies and gentlemen! Number 17, Oikawa Tooru landing a service ace!" He'd never get used to the satisfaction of landing a powerful hit.

By the third serve, the opposite team sloppily received Oikawa's serve. "Damn them." You utter beneath your breath. The ball was sent over the net back and forth for multiple times until it landed on C.A San Juan's side which ended Oikawa's serves.

Tooru didn't lose his composure, he watched them carefully, communicated with his team which glances and unspoken trust every time he set the ball to one of them. You knew little about volleyball, but Oikawa's growth was obvious. There were less unnecessary steps between his movements to save his energy.

You smiled every time Tooru's hands touched the ball, this was his dream, your dream too. You felt like you didn't need to talk to him anymore, to you this was enough, seeing him play for a major league was enough.

"That number 17 is so darn annoying!" The old man beside you grumbled.

"Ain't he?" You replied with a smirk. "He's just an amazing player." Your arms crossed on your chest, you felt like boasting Oikawa.

"Whatever lil' lady. C.A San Juan will lose today." The man huffs, but when you turned your head at the scoreboard, the difference was vast. You didn't need to say anything more to a stubborn fan of a losing team.

The first set was taken by C.A San Juan, but the second was handed to the opposite with a 3 point difference. By the third set, Oikawa was running out of energy. The pressure was extra hard on this match, C.A San Juan may have been the number one team at the moment but they were going against the ones who were just below a rank. There was barely a difference in skill.

The setter moved around the most, strategised the most, and held the burden of carrying the rest of the team. The ball was falling in front of him, but his body could barely react with all the thoughts running in his head. What should he do if he successfully prevents the ball from touching the ground. Who should he set it to? "Tooru, move!"

Oikawa moved immediately, he lunged towards the ball and did a low-set towards the middle blocker. The ball went over their side, earning them a point successfully. He knew that voice, the voice of a guardian angel that prayed for him silently from afar, he knew whose voice of frustration that could only come from. So, when he turned his head to his left he saw you.

The world stopped spinning for a second, you were watching him. Tooru's head snapped back in the game when the referee blowed his whistle again. He'll finish this game in five minutes for you. He just wanted to see your face as soon as possible.

There was a shift in the air when Oikawa knew you were here, he played more efficiently and calmly. His play more aggressive, forced his teammates to move faster at his command just so he could see you. Those who sat by the bench noticed it too, how their setter changed when the woman from the crowd called him amongst the rest of the spectators.

The game ended dramatically, Oikawa setting it to the most unpredictable person and used a quick attack he had mimicked from his junior. The final whistle blew, the referee pointed the point to his side of the court. The cheers from the crowd grew stronger, the banners waved, yet it the jeers and cheers dissolved when he saw your countenance smiling at his victory.

Normally, the team would huddle together in victory but Oikawa's feet magnetised him to you. The cameras followed the MVP of the match wondering why he was running off the court, his long legs leapt over the barrier, he could only see you and no one else at that moment. Something on you could do to him.

You were bad for him. So bad, because every time you stood by him all he wanted was you. You made him so desperate for you. "Tooru!" You yelped when his arms wrapped around you instead, his knees kissing the ground as his head was laying on top of your lap, your hand brushed against his hair dampened by his hard work and labour.

The crowds cheers simmered down when they saw their favourite setter hug a woman. "Don't pull away just yet. If you're here to tell me you've found someone else and that I should move on. Let me be a bit more selfish, you'd want that too, right?" He spoke in Japanese, a language he'd only speak over calls with his friends and family over call but now he was speaking it with someone in front of him. You always brought home to him.

You forgot why you even came here, forgot the fact that you were here to erase memories and not to make some more. "No, of course not." Your comfort was a familiar feeling. You guys peeled away from each other after a long awaited 30 seconds. His teammates and opponents looked at him wide-eyed.

Oikawa Tooru, famous for never batting an eye to a woman in the volleyball scene just hugged a woman in front of the stadium, in front of the camera crews that was being broadcasted internationally and nationally. "Go back to your team, I'll be here. I promise." He got up from the ground, his steps stuttered as he looked back at you-- afraid you'll leave his sight.

Once the celebration was over, once the journalists and camera crew has finished asking questions about the game and about you, once he's finished signing the autographs of the little kids that admired him. He came back to you, most people had left the stadium but you stayed and waited.

Just like when you were 18, Oikawa Tooru would grab your hand gently and walk you just outside of the changing rooms to wait for him. "Don't say anything yet because if I hear another word from you, I might cry." Oikawa was nervous, he didn't know what to say or do. He just wanted to hold you.

His teammates looked at you funny, funny in a way that they knew they were gonna tease their favourite setter in the changing room. They nudged at each other, wriggled their brows at you like middle schoolers. Their outside hitter gave you a nod of approval with a smug grin which caused your cheeks to warm up. You were a bit shocked at how their build contrasted their personality.

You lingered outside the changing rooms while Oikawa wore his windbreaker and you could hear his teammates tease him about you. Oikawa yelled at them to stop because his cheeks reddened each time they fed his head with delusions.

"Sorry about that." He apologised, but it was clear as day that he enjoyed it. "Let's not talk here, Y/n-chan." He led you to the parking lot, and asked the coach driver to open up the doors for him. The driver looked at Oikawa, an upside down grin on his lips, he gave you guys a thumbs up and a wink to Oikawa.

You guys sat towards the middle of the coach, Oikawa made you take the window seat because no way in hell were you gonna run away from him again. He won't let you, unless he knew you were definitely gonna be happy without him, unless you were truly better off without him.

Oikawa wanted to barrage you with questions of why you never let him stay with you, why you never responded to his messages or emails, why you asked Iwa-chan to never tell him how you were faring. The setter wanted to get mad at you. "How are you?" His voice barely a whisper, a silent cry that he didn't manage to suppress.

He inspected you carefully, dark bags hung below your eyes, your movements slow, each time you blinked your eyes it seemed like you were forcing them to open. "I'm getting by." Why do you want to reassure him? He hates you. He truly did because you looked like you were one push away from the gates of heaven. You looked like you haven't slept properly nor gotten the right amount of sunlight.

"How about you, Tooru?" Why the hell were you so worried about him when your body was breaking apart right before his eyes. He was in excellent physique, you looked like you were going to pass out from just 20 minutes of walking for fuck's sake.

"I'm not great. I'm just alright, Y/n-chan." He took your hands, surrounded it with his roughened palms. Your hands were gentle as ever, something that your career needed. They needed your gentle touch, your light hands, nimble, precise and quick. His on the other hand required his raw power, harshness, unwavering cruelty to slam the ball down.

You wanted to get it out of your chest, the words you should've said immediately when you left him. "I'm sorry, I should have talked it over with you--" Your beating heart became erratic, you were just one more beat away from a cardiac arrest.

Oikawa thought he'd relish when he heard those words, he thought he'd feel better but he wanted something else. "Why should I forgive you?" He watched your chest stop rising. "I know you. I know that all you did was push me out of my comfort, to remind me of my petty pride, to remind me that I was stuck in Miyagi." His thumbs brushed the back of your palms, he didn't meet your eyes even when you waited for his gaze.

"I don't resent you. I never have, and I never could. You believed in me when I faltered. You gave up your happiness just so I could stop hesitating." He slowly looks at your eyes, his tears threatening to fall from his ducts. "You made the greatest sacrifice for me." Suddenly, the feeling on your chest disappeared.

Those emotions you could never explain, those reasons that felt like was incomprehensible he understood so perfectly. Why did he have to be the only guy to understand you. Why did he still love you after those arrow-headed words. Why did he have to be so kind. Tears fell from your face, it pained Oikawa to see you like that. To him, he was always the reason for your crying.

"Your heart's always so gentle." You removed your hands from his grip, he expected you'd let go again but this time both of your hands cupped his cheek. He rubbed his cheek onto your palm, holding your left hand in place with his right hand. "You're painfully kind, Tooru."

Oikawa loved holding intense eye contact with you, a symbol of his intimacy and love, it made your heart flutter every time. "Only for you, Y/n-chan. I promise." Unwavering loyalty. "Hey, hey..." He says softly when your crying worsened, each tear that left your eyes made his heart sink further. "Forgive me, Y/n-chan." He says incessantly hoping you'd calm down cause his heart was aching too.

"Tell me what you want, please." He pulls you to his chest, his heart racing more, he couldn't stand seeing you cry. "I'll do whatever you want, so please don't cry anymore." Every diamond that slipped from your tear ducts caused his coronary muscles to contract.

"I know it's selfish but--" You looked at him with begging eyes. "Tell me, tell me that I can stay with you." Your biggest hardship in life wasn't the entrance exam for med school, it wasn't the medical licence exam, it wasn't when you moved out your sweet abode to Tokyo. It was watching Tooru leave and prosper without you.

"You can stay with me for how long you want. If you're tired and feel like leaving everything, stay with me. You don't need my permission to stay Y/n-chan, there's always been a spot for you here." Tooru who knew your self-doubts, Tooru who knew you were insecure when you thought you weren't amazing as him, Tooru who learnt that you thought you were a burden.

"I promise I'll carry you along wherever I go, I'll never make you choose between your happiness and my dream again." You continued to cry in his chest until you stopped, his heartbeat against your ears-- a pleasure you haven't experienced in a millennia. The soft drums from his chest decelerated, your lids slowly shut themselves as you fall asleep from the soft taps on your back.

10 minutes after that his teammates entered the coach and took pictures of the mystery woman sleeping on Oikawa's shoulder. Oikawa knew he couldn't stop them, he just hoped that you wouldn't wake up to their teasing.

"Oikawa's finally gonna get engaged boys!" Their captain laughed. Gosh. Oikawa loved their teasing.

They arrived at their hotel which was only a 30 minute drive from the stadium, Y/n was carried by Oikawa out of the coach, his muscles flexed as he carried her towards his hotel room. The receptionists, janitors, guests watched the prince carry his princess to his chambers. Tooru was worried about your face getting leaked online so his friends who understood his dilemma about Y/n's face getting leaked online gathered around Oikawa so that they couldn't even get a glimpse of your face.

Those who recognised Oikawa, which was everyone, took pictures and scrambled on their phones and uploaded it to every single one of their social media platforms. When they reached the elevator, they could finally relax and pressed the top level floor, the doors creating a 'ding' when it open and closed.

His teammates walked Oikawa to his hotel room, which was odd but he paid no mind. "Goodnight sleeping beauty." His captain says. They were all excited for Oikawa.

Tooru carried you in his hotel room, removed your heels swiftly from your feet. He didn’t like that you wore heels that suffocated your feet, sure you looked wonderful but he’d have preferred if you were comfortable more than anything.

He laid you down on the comfort of his bed, the blanket over your shoulders, and placed your shoulder bag on the nightstand. He couldn’t care about anything else at this moment, not the PR manager who’s probably gonna question him, or maybe the fact that Iwaizumi was calling him right now most likely about the fact that he ran up to you after the match.

This second. This minute. This hour. This very moment closed the twelve hour bridge between you two. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching your chest rise up and down, a sight he’d want to wake up to every morning without a fail.

After volleyball, you became the very dream he’d prayed for. Something he couldn’t hone or practice for, your relationship was indefinite unlike volleyball. Good outcomes weren’t guaranteed, so every little thing was a miracle to Oikawa Tooru who’s done nothing but yearn for you for the past seven years.

As selfish as it sounds, Oikawa Tooru wanted to trap you here and wished you never woke up, he wished that the seconds won’t slip through his large hands. He just wanted to have you in arms again. "I want to keep you here." The tips of his fingers grazed your skin slowly, he didn't want to wake you up cause you'll leave him in this meadow you created.

"You're cruel." His voice rubbed against the back of his throat, his own words shadowed his intentions. "You always, always, make me wait and I hate that I do."

During the arduous 7 years where you were gone had him driving by places you would have loved. He looked at paintings you would have loved. He drank and ate the food you would have loved. He did everything you would have loved, just to have a sliver of you with him.

He knew he was forcing the red strings, but what was love without work? Fate, luck, chance, were all superficial to him. Everything he possessed was a product of his work, if he had to work off his bones just to have you then he will. Nothing will ever tire him from you.

Tooru placed his head on your thighs, after he sat on the cream-coloured, cushioned seat. His hand gripped yours tightly so that he'd wake up from his dreams incase you ran away again. No one could could protect his dreams, not the promising moon, not the deities. How can anyone possibly steal what's in his hand when he was holding you so tightly.

A few hours passes by, 23.53 hits the clock. You rise up from the bed, a weight on your legs which you gave curiosity causing you to look at it. It was Tooru. You removed your hand from his vice-grip, the heat accumulated over the hours of touch slowly dissipating. You pushed back his dark locks that tickled his face, your fingers running through his scalp.

He wakes up panicked, the dim light of the hotel room looking basking on your faces, his pupils were shaking when he woke up and realised that the warmth from his hands slipped away. "Tooru," there it was, the voice of his dearest one "don't worry, I'm here."

"Sorry." He says bashfully.

No, you were sorry. Your heart crimped when it dawned upon you how Oikawa Tooru looked like he was stepping in eggshells when he thought you vanished again. "I won't leave, not again." It was your turn to comfort him now.

"I betrayed my own feelings. I betrayed us. I'll be more stubborn this time, I'll hold you tighter." Oikawa sucked in a deep breath, your words stood with a deep foundation, something hurricanes could never blow with their seeming harsh blusters. "I love you more than anything. I promise, I won't work things out by myself again." You took his hands and rested it upon the blanket where your thighs were, patted it like you would to a crying child.

"I'll make things more difficult for you. I'll whine when you're away from me." He cackled between his tears, the tips of his nose reddened and he could already feel the fact that he was getting nasally blocked. "I'll be a part of everything you've dreamt of."

Your gentle Tooru that broke easily in your comfort, you ungrounded the fences on his heart, you lightened every heavy boulders on his shoulders.

"Tell me that you'll be there at every match." He holds onto your shoulders but he wasn't harsh, he just wanted you to look directly at him-- he wanted to know for sure.

"I will be there. I promise." Something so menial made him feel so much, more than his heart could bear.

Oikawa stood up ripped the blanket off, carried you and wrapped your legs around him, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at you. He wanted to tell you the three words he's dreaded to say but they were lodged at his throat. Just like 7 years ago, he took you by the lips, but the kiss was aggressive and passionate. He was catching up on every possible minutes accumulated over the years where he would have kissed you.

Your fingers automatically attaches to his hair, tugging it slightly as he got more and more aggressive. His hand rubbed against your bare legs, the skirt of your dress slowly rising with each touch. "Open." You complied willingly, following how he wanted it.

His large palm held your head in place keeping it steady, he moves away from your lips and kisses the spot between your neck and collarbone before sucking it causing a small whimper to escape your lips. Your hand holds his jaw, hoping to reconnect with his lips again which he immediately picked up on.

Oikawa loved this, the close proximity, the kiss he's imagined for so long, he loved how you were with him again. He loves your warmth against his. He loves your presence right beside him. He just loves you so much it feels like he can't contain it any longer.

You place your hands on his chest, signalling you needed to breathe, he pulls away, his hands on your hips and looks at you lovingly. "I love you so much, Y/n. I love you too much that I feel like my days are empty without you." He was dazed with you, he wanted to drunken his emotions and days with you.

"I love you too, Tooru." You reciprocate his words. "I love you so much my heart is chipped every time you're gone. I never realised how much it felt so wrong without you up until now." You gave his shoulders a squeeze, a sign of reassurance.

"Stay with me, Y/n." How could you not when he looked at you as if his whole world will crumble now if you'd reject him. You could never say no to Tooru, not ever again, your heart can't handle running away from him again.

"I'll be here, now and forever." You press your forehead against his, closed your eyes and indulged in your desire.

"I promise to make you the happiest woman, I promise to love you more than the whole universe can love you." His hands moved from your hips, his arms now wrapped around your back. A deep breath escapes his lips, feeling more relieved more than ever. "I'll love you more than love, cherish you, take care of you until my last breath is you."

The clock hits 00.00. The day anew. This once derelict love will repaired slowly with time and effort. The sun, the wind, the rain will always be different from yesterday, it will change ever so slightly. Time is not a source of remedy, but a moment for reflection, to understand what went wrong, to change what happens the following minute, hours, days, or years.

Every passing minute is a reminder of reflection. You can't dwell on the past, you can only live at the moment and plan for the next step.

[literatooru]

╭───────── .𐔌՞. .՞𐦯.. ─╮

ƒαℓℓιηg σνєя мє

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ραιяιηg⟢tsukishima kei x gn!reader

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ωαяηιηgѕ⟢ mention & consumption of alcohol

but nothing too crazy.

╰─ ..𐔌՞. .՞𐦯. ─────────╯

⊹ ࣪ ˖⟢✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The scenery is pretty stereotypical; a college party—loud music that drums in your ears and forces you to yell over it if you want to hold a conversation with anyone (which always seems futile anyway), a sweaty crowd of dancing people bumping into everyone else because they're too drunk to help themselves, plastic cups on almost everyone’s hands —and, for some reason, mostly littering the entire floor—. Everything seems right; keyword being seems.

The only problem is that, instead of being with you, Tsukishima Kei is by himself, standing on the other side of the room.

He looks annoyed, which must be because he was probably dragged to the party, just like you were. It’s been like that for a couple long hours, although you’d never admit you’ve been staring at him, just like he’d never admit he’s been doing the exact same thing when you weren’t looking—something silly since you both have actually noticed.

So, after deciding you’ve had enough of the endless glances across the room, you leave your cup —on a table, like a normal person, not the floor— and march up to him with a confidence only someone who's a little bit intoxicated can seem to muster. Tsukishima doesn’t look away this time; his eyes remain fixed on you all the while it takes you to walk from your spot to his.

And then you’re right in front of him, looking up at him with determination gleaming in your eyes.

“Let’s go outside,” you say.

“What?” he shouts, leaning down a little and tilting his head.

“I said, let’s go outside!”

“What?” he repeats.

“I said LET’S GO OUTSIDE!” you bellow, and Tsukishima starts laughing. “What?” it’s your turn to ask.

“I heard you the first time, I’m just messing with you,” he says, walking past you and heading towards the door. With a scowl, you follow. It’s better outside—less crowded and quieter, not too mention less suffocating due to the lack of people. A light, cold breeze hits your skin and you shiver lightly, earning a sideways glance from your companion. “You should’ve brought a jacket with you.”

You glower at him, rubbing your arms and shifting your feet in hopes to warm up a little.

“I did.”

“And where is it?”

You’re quiet for a second, averting your gaze with pursed lips. Your bashfulness earns a smirk from Tsukishima which he attempts to hide by busying himself with wiping his glasses on his shirt, seemingly guessing the answer before you utter a word.

“I lost it.”

“How the hell did you lose your jacket? What are you, five?”

“Listen, it’s hot inside, okay?” you grumble. “I took it off for a second and then it was gone.”

Your vision is suddenly obscured by something being draped over your head, and you stumble a little in your place, taking your hands to up. It’s soft, warm, and it smells like Tsukishima. It’s his jacket.

You blink in the darkness, holding the fabric with hesitant hands and shooting him a dubious look.

“What about you?”

He rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest.

“Just put it on. I don’t want to have to deal with you getting sick.”

Despite his annoyed tone, you sense an undertone of something else lacing his words. He genuinely worries about you, and no snarky comments nor irritated grimaces are able to hide that—he's tried.

“So,” you begin, slipping your arms inside the sleeves. The jacket is too big and too long for you, bit it’s comforting in a way. You start rolling up the sleeves to uncover your hands. When he sees you struggling with the fabric, he heaves a sigh and takes the end of the sleeve in his hands, rolling it until it’s the perfect length for you. “What brought you here? Or who?” You notice the way his nose scrunches up, and smile. “I’m assuming your friends.”

“Tsk. Yeah, some friends they are. I’ve been wanting to go home for the past three hours and I can’t find any of them.”

“Well, why don’t you just leave?”

He deadpans at you like you’ve just asked the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.

“I’m supposed to drive their drunk asses back.”

You chuckle softly, thanking him quietly when both your hands are revealed. It takes him a second longer to let you go, though. He realizes it; you notice it. Neither of you mind.

Tsukishima leans against the wall, facing straight forward. You both are quiet for awhile, simply enjoying each other’s company, and even though you don’t notice this time, Kei can’t stop himself from throwing sideway glances your way. More than once, his eyes fall on your lips before he realizes what he’s doing and looks away.

You’ve been thinking a lot lately, and you’re sure he has, too. But you can’t help wondering why he hasn’t said anything. It’s pretty obvious, and not just to you—everyone around you has already mentioned it as well.

His snide remarks, mocking, annoyed huffs and rolls of his eyes seem much less frequent when he’s with you, and are replaced by small, almost imperceptible smiles and longing looks across the room—and it can only mean one thing.

Tsukishima Kei has a big, fat crush on you.

Which is good, because you happen to also have a big, fat crush on him.

“Hey, Tsukki?” you whisper, avoiding his eyes, just in case. He gives a small hum to signal he’s listening. “Why didn’t you ask me to come outside?”

He screws up his face, turning his head to look at you.

“Because why would I want to do that?” he asks after a short pause, taking out his phone to text someone. Because he actually needs to or as an excuse, you're not sure—you doubt any of his friends are sober enough to read them anyway.

You suppress a smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

And, summoning the courage you’ve been mustering up all day, you say, “Because you like me.”

He fumbles with his phone, the device dropping to the floor when he fails to catch it. He hurries to pick it up and crouches to check that the screen isn’t cracked before his gaze snaps up to you with a frown already settling on his brows.

“You’re tolerable, I suppose,” he says, gulping. Then, he looks down. “And besides, aren’t friends supposed to like each other?”

“Friends don’t like each other the way you like me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you like-like me.”

He lets out an irritated huff, straightening up. You have to look up to face him, and notice, for the first time, how awkward he actually looks.

“Cut it out, will you?” he mutters, taking a cautious step back when he notices how close you are. “I don’t know why you’re saying all this stuff.” He turns around to walk away.

“You know, for how smart you claim to be, you’re actually pretty stupid.”

“Ha?!” he rounds on you, looking over his shoulder. Kei's eyes stay fixed on you as you walk around him to stand before him once more. “Honestly, where is all this crap coming from?” His tone is harsh, but he stuff his hands in his jeans’ pockets so you won’t see how much they’re shaking.

You purse your lips as you look up at him, a knowing smile growing on your face. He’s honestly so dense, how hasn’t he noticed?

If the way your heart races when he touches you, or how you feel warm and fuzzy inside when he smiles at you, or how you can’t ever get him out of your head tell you something; it’s that he’s the one. At least, you really, really hope so.

“Why are you saying all this?” he asks with a light quiver to his voice he tries but fails to mask, demanding an answer.

“Because I like you too, idiot,” you mumble, snorting. “Like-like you."

He freezes in his place, blinking at you, a soft breath escaping his parted lips. He mentally thanks his friends for dragging him to the party, because maybe it doesn’t suck as much as he had initially thought. Not when you’re there with him, admitting that you reciprocate his feelings.

“Right,” he breathes out, swallowing hard. Then, he looks straight into your eyes, a small smile curling his lips. “Well. Okay.”

“Is that all you’re going to say?” you ask with humor.

“It’s honestly the first time I have no words,” he says, shaking his head.

You laugh softly, jabbing your thumb over your shoulder.

“Maybe we should just head back inside,” you say, taking a couple steps back.

“No, wait,” he blurts out, reaching out clutch your wrist. “Wait. I… I want to stay out here with you.”

“We can just go somewhere tomorrow,” you say.

“I want to be with you today and tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that too, stupid.”

“Oh. You mean like that.”

“Yeah, I mean like that,” he says, brows knit together.

“Is that a promise?”

He rolls his eyes, although an unwilling smile makes its way onto his face.

“Yeah, I promise. Today, tomorrow, and all my of days after that.”

[aveocadeo]

Top of the class or not? [Tsukishima Kei x nerd! gn! reader]

You and Tsukishima had been academic rivals ever since high school. As he was slowly catching on your unhealthy habits during your rivalry at school, he had his own way of supporting you. From high school to college, maybe it wasn't all about rivalry anymore.

tags: high school to college AU!, two nerds pining, mutual interest, academic rivalry, fluff with slight jealousy, slight make-out session. warnings: mention of unhealthy habits.

a/n: teehee dropped this.

You and Tsukishima were like the same way Hinata was with Kageyama on the court. Just two rivals trying to compete who was better than the other.

It wasn't always this way. You hadn't paid him much attention at first. That tall, smug volleyball idiot who had a permanent smirk like he knew something no one else did. But the first time your scores tied on a midterm, something shifted. You caught him glancing at your paper as the teacher handed it back. His brow quirked slightly and he tilted his head toward you.

"Not bad", he murmured. "For someone who doesn't wear glasses".

You blinked at his comment. "What does that even mean?" He had just smirked wider while tapping his paper against his desk. "Nothing, just making observations". From that day on, it was war.

Every quiz became a silent battlefield between you two. If you scored higher, he would sigh dramatically and roll his eyes. He would also throw in a muttered comment like: "Guess I'll just study harder next time, huh?" If he beat you, he would leave a sticky note on your desk with the number difference and a sarcastic doodle of a medal.

You retaliated of course. When you scored higher on the chemistry final, you would sneak a beaker-shaped cookie into his desk with '#2' frosted in red. You and Tsukishima were evenly matched. You were sharp, relentless and far too prideful to admit you were starting to look forward to seeing your name next to his on the board.

"Have you two ever thought about... not trying to kill each other via academic warfare?" Yachi had asked once while watching the way you two hovered at the announcement board. Both pairs of eyes narrowed at your ranking.

"No", you said. "Hm", Tsukishima replied.

She had blinked. "Okay... just wondering", she said. She didn't know how you two were head-to-head on this battle of academics, even though nobody would dare with their scores to test you two on the board.

It wasn't that you didn't like Tsukishima. He was indeed infuriating. He was constantly smug and always had some dry ass comment locked and loaded, but you could admit that you respected him. Maybe even enjoyed the challenge because he made you work harder and think faster.

But you had something he didn't, and it was desperation.

You had to be the best. Your scholarship depended on it. Your future depended on it.

So when sleep got in the way? You cut it. Meals? Skipped.

There wasn't time, not when you had physics, literature and math. All the subjects that were all demanding your full attention. You weren't sure when it became a habit. How many breakfasts you had quietly replaced with study notes or how often your stomach grumbled during lectures. It didn't matter to you. What counted was that you were still scoring high.

Until the day you nearly collapsed after gym.

It started with a headache, then came the dizziness and the blurring of the chalkboard's writing. You didn't want to cause a scene, so you didn't say anything and sat through math. You were willing yourself not to sway even if it was a dangerous situation for you.

And Tsukishima noticed.

You didn't see it, but his pen froze mid-scribble as his eyes shifted from the equations to your face. You were pale and unfocused. Anyone could see that your eyes were blinking like the lights were too bright. He frowned by the sight of your body status.

When the bell rang, you bolted to your feet too fast. Too dizzy.

"Whoa, hey-", you wobbled and his hand caught your elbow before you could hit the desk. "Are you trying to die in the middle of algebra?" he snapped, but you didn't care to tell him the truth.

"I'm fine", you mumbled while pulling your arm free. "Just tired".

"Bullshit", he muttered under his breath. "You looked like you were about to pass out".

"I said I'm fine". He watched you with jaw tight and eyes narrowed like he was trying to decode something. Then he walked away. You thought that was the end of it.

The next day, you found a sandwich packed like the ones you usually saw from the convenience stores. It was on your desk with no notes, nor explanations. It was just ham and cheese, still cool from the fridge. You were staring at it suspiciously. You were both curious about the secret sender, but also a little confused as of why there was a sandwich there.

Tsukishima walked in two minutes later and didn't look at you once.

It became a pattern. Whenever you looked particularly out of it like shaky hands, slower blinking or pages trembling slightly as you turned them, there would be something waiting on your desk. Onigiri. A granola bar. A bottle of Pocari Sweat.

You didn't need a neon sign to figure it out. No one else in class was both observant and petty enough to go out of their way like this without taking credit.

"Are you trying to fatten me up so I get slower and lose to you?" you asked him a later day that week, finding a yogurt under your notebook. Tsukishima didn't glance up from his phone. "You're not a pig, but rather a dumbass", he said with his signature smirk.

"Oh, wow. Touching", you rolled your eyes.

"You're skipping meals. I can tell", his voice was calm but his jaw flexed. "It's not a strategy. It's self-destruction".

You blinked. "Why do you care?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached into his bag and tossed a spoon at you. "Because you're not going to beat me by killing yourself first".

It wasn't about the competition anymore. Not entirely. There were still tests and quizzes, still sarcastic remarks and smug expressions but it changed. Quietly and imperceptibly, you two started studying in the library during the same hours. You would sit at the opposite ends of the same table, exchange flashcards without speaking, slide each other corrected answers with a glance and a flick of a pen.

He made you laugh once during a break. You were both leaning back in your chairs with exhaustion washing over you after a brutal calculus session. He deadpanned with a: "If I die, tell the world I went down fighting the real enemy: integrals".

You had choked on your tea. "Are you capable of human humor?" you asked. He smirked at the question. "Only selectively".

You started eating again. At first out of guilt because he kept watching you as eyes were flicking to your tray like he had challenged you to a debate if you didn't finish your rice. Then it became a habit, then comfort and then you weren't sure what it was after that.

Tsukishima was still a pain in the ass, but he was your pain in the ass.

It was after the final exam rankings were posted that he found you behind the school. You were sitting on the bench with an expression unreadable. On the rankings, your name stood on top by a single point.

You waited for the jab from Tsukishima. The sarcastic quip, but he just sat down beside you.

"You win", he said simply as he rested both of his hands on his lap.

"I didn't mean to", you said.

He tilted his head. "You studied your ass off. Of course you meant to", he said.

You stared ahead. "It's not about winning anymore". He was quiet for a long moment, then he opened his mouth again.

"I know".

You glanced at him. "Are you mad?" you asked and he replied with a sigh. "A little, but not because you beat me".

"Then why?"

"Because...", he dragged a hand through his hair, avoiding your eyes, "Because I got used to you being around. And it kind of sucks knowing the semester's ending and I won't have someone to trade insults with while cramming for physics", he said.

You blinked. "That's... weirdly sweet coming from you".

"Don't say things like that", he muttered with a noticeable red raiding his ears. "You'll ruin my reputation".

You smiled. "Guess I'll have to find new ways to torture you next semester". He rolled his eyes, but you could see the edge of his lips twitched.

"I'll look forward to it".

College hadn't dulled your rivalry, but rather sharpened it. It was a new city with new courses and dorms, yet the same infuriating blondie was always seated somewhere within your vicinity. He was always scoring within spitting distance of your marks and was always, always watching you with that unreadable, smug expression.

"So", he said over coffee one afternoon, "Still planning to graduate valedictorian or just going for martyrdom at this point?"

You didn't even look up from your laptop. "Don't speak to me, peasant".

"Wow, the caffeine really brings out your charm", he said while staring at your presence giving no fucks about being sweet.

Despite everything, you had grown closer. What started as academic sniping in the library became routine study sessions in Tsukishima's apartment, which was somehow more productive than the dorms or nearby campus cafés.

The silence was more focused and the familiar tension between you two. You brought snacks while he brewed decent coffee. And somewhere in the middle of calculus derivations and essay drafts, you stopped pretending that he was just a rival.

You liked him.

Too much probably.

But neither of you were the type to confess, so you kept it buried under passive-aggressive commentary and long, lingering looks when the other wasn't paying attention.

Or so you thought.

You didn't mean to make him jealous.

You were just walking back from class when that one classmate from statistics, Ruu, caught up with you.

You were laughing, sharing notes, your heads leaned close as he pointed at your phone screen. From anyone else's perspective, it probably looked... flirty.

You didn't think much of it, but Tsukishima did.

He saw you across the quad and stopped mid-step. His earbuds were still in, one hand gripping his bag strap tightly. He didn't move for several seconds. He just watched it unfold.

You didn't notice him. You were too busy scribbling something into your notebook as your companion smiled and leaned a little closer.

Then something in Tsukishima's chest tightened. It was irrational he knew. He had no right to be irritated. You two weren't dating. You weren't anything more than competitive allies with a mutual understanding that sarcasm was love language.

Still.

When you texted later with a: "Study session at yours? 6 PM?" he didn't reply right away.

You arrived at his place ten minutes early with your backpack slung over your shoulder, hands chilled from the evening breeze. He opened the door like he hadn't seen you earlier at all.

"Hi", you said, slightly breathless. "You okay?"

"Fine", he muttered. "Come in".

You paused. "Wow, such hospitality you have there".

He didn't reply. He just turned and walked back toward his desk. You frowned as you were slipping off your shoes and trailing after him. You knew something was off, but you had no idea what it was.

"Did I... do something?"

"No."

"That's incredibly convincing". Tsukishima dropped into his chair, flipping through the textbook without looking at you. "Let's just get started".

You didn't sit. You just stood there and stared at him until he finally met your gaze. His jaw was tight, his eyes a little colder than usual. "What?"

You crossed your arms. "You're being weird".

"Maybe you're imagining it".

"Oh, good. Gaslighting. You must be in a good mood", you said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes. "Can we please just go over the exam material?"

"You're seriously not going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong".

You stepped closer. "Kei".

It came out quieter than you meant it to. It was gentler and that was new for both of you. His eyes flicked to you, then away. You followed the direction of his glance. He was staring at your notebook.

No, it wasn't the notebook he was staring at. It was the handwriting scrawled across the top.

With a name that wasn't his.

Realisation hit you like a wave. "Oh", you breathed. "You saw me earlier, with Ruu?"

His mouth twitched. "So you do know his name".

You blinked. "Are you seriously-"

"I said it's nothing", he said, but you weren't convinced. "You're sulking".

"I'm not!" he paused, exhaling harshly, "...I'm not sulking".

"You're pouting and brooding at the same time. That's a Tsukishima Kei special", you said and rolled your eyes. He didn't speak. Just closed the textbook a little too forcefully. Silence stretched between you, heavy with tension.

Then finally he said: "You looked...close".

"With Ruu?" He didn't respond. You felt something flutter in your chest.

"Kei", you said again, softer this time. "We were just talking about the project. He's not even... he has a girlfriend. I think. I don't know, I wasn't...", you stopped yourself, "I wasn't thinking about him".

He turned to you. There was something sharp and raw in his expression now. "No?"

"No."

You stepped forward again, setting your notebook down on the desk. You were closer to him now than before. "I don't get jealous over people I don't like", you said. "But apparently you do".

That silenced him. He looked at you for a while, his eyes flickering over your face like he was trying to memorise it. And then he said, low and almost bitter: "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you to figure it out?"

You blinked. "Figure out what?"

"That I like you", he said. "That I, God, you drive me insane. You're annoying and competitive. Stubborn as hell, but you're brilliant. And funny in a way that sneaks up on you. And yeah, I get jealous, okay? Because I thought I was the only one who got to be close to you like that..."

You're heart was pounding. "You thought...?"

He exhaled. "I wanted to be the one who made you smile like that. Not some random guy with a generic name and bad hair".

You laughed in a half-nervous, half-disbelieving way. "You're such an idiot".

"I know", he said. Then after a beat: "But you like me back".

It wasn't a question. You looked at him as if every part of you vibrating with adrenaline and confusion and something very warm beneath it all. "Yeah", you said. "I do".

He nodded slowly. "Good", and then he stood up.

Before you could react, his hand was on your cheek and tilted your face upward as he kissed you first.

It wasn't rushed. It wasn't frantic. It was firm, insistent, but still cautious, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to want this much. You made a small whimper as fingers curled into the front of his hoodie. He deepened the kiss, finally letting go of that last inch of distance.

It built fast. Hands in hair with mouths parting and breaths hitching. You somehow ended up straddling his lap in the chair, textbook shoved aside with reckless abandon, his arms around your waist like he had been dying to hold you for years.

When he kissed you again, it was less careful. It was hungrier. It was less like a confession and more like a claim. You pulled back for a second, breathless.

"Kei...", you whispered, forehead against his.

"Yeah?"

"Are we... still rivals?" He gave a low chuckle, lips brushing yours. "Always", he said. "But now I get to win and kiss you".

You smiled, tugging him back in.

"I'll let you have that one".

@/2025 ave

[yukkigiri]

third time's a charm

after tsukishima kei brushes your confessions off twice, you decide to try again—because maybe third time’s the charm.

starring. tsukishima kei x fem!reader

genre. fluff, romance, slow burn.

wc. 4.1k

It started with a rejection.

It was not the quiet, apologetic kind. It wasn't even a vague, gentle letdown.

You had barely even finished the words "I like you" before Tsukishima Kei, obviously unmoved, muttered a flat, "No thanks. I'm not interested."

You blinked at him under the afternoon sun, heard thudding in your ears, too stunned to process the way he turned and walked away. No sugarcoating. It was just typical Tsukishima. Just cold, brutal honesty.

And yet—somehow—you didn't give up.

You first met Tsukishima Kei through Yachi Hitoka.

You were from a different class, but the two of you were friends since you both live in the same apartment building.

Yachi had dragged you to Karasuno's volleyball practice one afternoon, pleading with you to help her carry some boxes of water and first aid supplies. She was the newly recruited manager. You had no real reason to go—you weren’t particularly into volleyball—but you owed Yachi a favor.

And that's where you saw him.

Tall, aloof, and sharp-tongued, Tsukishima wasn't exactly what you'd call approachable. But something about him fascinated you. Maybe it was the quiet fire behind his eyes, or how he seemed to carry the weight of ambition without ever admitting he cared.

You didn't know what possessed you to like him.

Maybe it was the way his eyes narrowed in concentration or how he always looked vaguely annoyed with the world, yet never missed a block. Maybe it was how he ignored the chaos around him, but occasionally paused to push his glasses up in a way that made your chest flutter.

Whatever it was, it rooted itself in your chest.

You started attending their practice more frequently, using Yachi as an excuse most of the time. You were okay with helping her and you would immediately accept her to help her. At this point, you were the third "unofficial" manager of the team. Kiyoko even offered you the position, which you gently let down.

You started small. A bottle of energy drink with a post-it: "Good luck!" (Yachi delivered it, of course). You've also made him a neatly wrapped onigiri for one of their practice match. A chocolate bar with a tiny sticker that said "For #11." Yachi was happy to always give them though.

A few weeks later you confessed.

He didn't even blink. "No thanks, I'm not interested."

It stung.

You should've stopped.

But you didn't.

"It's okay!" You smiled. "I'll still cheer for you."

Tsukishima scoffs, before walking away.

You did keep your promise. When it was the final match of the Miyagi Prefectural Spring Qualifiers, you were there, cheering him on. You were seated with Yachi by the spectators. Tsukishima would glance in your direction from time to time and every time he would scoff afterwards.

"Tsukki's spikes are on point today."

"I've also noticed that." You agreed with Yachi. "Maybe because this is the finals. Once they win, they'll go to Tokyo."

Your conversation with Yachi was cut off when the referee whistled for a substitution. Kiyoko was running out of the court with Tsukishima who looked like he was in pain while holding his other hand. You could see there was a bit of blood dripping from his pinky.

This made you worried, but there was nothing you could do and you couldn't go to the infirmary since you were not a manager to begin with. Yachi reassures you though that he would be alright.

Tsukishima returned to the game but his hand was now in bandages, which made you sigh in relief. After the match, you and Yachi went down to meet with the rest of the team to congratulate them. You caught Tsukishima who was headed to the changing rooms. His hand was unbandaged now, the makeshift tape coming loose.

"Wait, Kei." You called out softly.

He turned with a tired glance. You lifted up the small kit.

"Let me help. Your pinky—it's not taped properly."

He frowned, obviously reluctant, but after a beat, he sighed and nodded. "Fine. Just be quick."

You sat with him just outside the infirmary, the crowd still buzzing in the background. With practiced gentleness, you cleaned the small scrape and began wrapping his finger again.

"You're not a medic," he muttered, watching your careful work.

"No, but I've had practice with sprains. And you're not exactly gentle with yourself."

He huffed but didn’t pull away. You worked in silence, brushing your fingers lightly over his.

"You didn’t have to do this."

"I wanted to. You were amazing tonight."

He looked at you then—really looked. But whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself.

You tied the final bit of tape. "There. Try not to break more fingers next time."

He clicked his tongue but said nothing as you stood and offered a faint smile before walking away to look for Yachi.

You didn't go to see their matches in Tokyo, though you could, but you didn't since you just couldn't skip classes. Yachi was forcing and pleading you to go with them, but you told her that you couldn't really skip classes and she muttered under her breath, "Tsukki's gonna be in a foul mood if you don't come."

"What?"

"Nothing." She said, pouting.

You handed Yachi an omamori and smiled, "Give this to Kei and tell him good luck."

Yachi gave you a teasing look before safely putting the good luck charm inside her bag. "Don't you want to give up?"

You shook your head. "Nope."

"Well, who am I to even stop you in the first place?"

Yachi delivered your apology and good lucks to the team, along with the good luck charm for Tsukishima. Yachi gave Tsukishima a teasing smile before going up to Kiyoko.

Back at practice in Tokyo, Hinata pouted, "It's weird not having her around, isn't it?"

Yamaguchi grinned. "Tsukki's been extra grumpy. Coincidence?"

"I am not," Tsukishima snapped, shooting them a glare.

Yachi giggled nervously. "You do seem… quieter than usual."

He shoved his glasses up. "Don't be ridiculous."

But he didn’t deny it.

When second year rolled around, your feelings didn't fade. If anything, they deepened. You still showed up to every game and practice match and even made special chocolate for Valentine's (you also made for the rest of the team since you'd gotten close to them at this point). Sometimes, even protein bars or sports drinks after practice which were, of course, delivered by Yachi.

Your persistence had become a running joke among the team.

Yamaguchi once asked you with a laugh, "Are you planning on confessing again today, or are you giving him a snack break first?"

You just grinned. "Depends on his mood."

But underneath the teasing was a fondness—a recognition of how constant you were.

"He pretends he doesn’t care," Yachi whispered during lunch, poking at her food, "but I saw him keep the wrapper from the chocolate you gave him."

You paused. "Really?"

She nodded quickly. "He doesn’t throw your stuff out anymore. I think that’s progress."

You had no illusions. Tsukishima wasn’t the type to fall headfirst into anything, let alone a high school crush. He was cold, calculating, and painfully aware of how others perceived him. But still, you kept showing up. And something began to shift.

You noticed it in little things.

He’d stop walking away so quickly when you talked to him.

He’d take the snacks directly from your hand instead of through Yachi.

He’d grumble, "Tch, unnecessary," but still pocket the sweets.

And when a third-year on the basketball team tried to flirt with you behind the gym one day, Tsukishima appeared like a shadow.

"She’s busy," he said, stepping in just slightly in front of you.

"Didn’t think you cared, Tsukishima."

"I don’t. But she has bad taste, so someone has to keep her alive."

You were too stunned to respond.

But later that day, you gave him a lemon soda. He didn’t say thank you, but he drank it in front of you this time.

Another incident where you were helping out Yamaguchi and Yachi pin posters for sponsorship for the spring tournament, Yamaguchi said something that also stuck with you.

"He gets grumpy when you’re not at games," Yamaguchi said casually one afternoon while you were helping Yachi pin posters for the spring tournament.

You paused. "What?"

He grinned, too knowing. "He’ll never admit it. But if you’re not there cheering… his blocks aren’t as sharp. His mood dips. I think he’s gotten used to you."

Your heart fluttered at the idea. But then you remembered the way Kei would scoff every time you got too close. You knew better than to get your hopes up.

Still—you showed up. You always did.

Your second confession came during the school festival.

The night air was cool against your skin, carrying the faint scent of grilled food and melted candy. The laughter and chatter of your classmates echoed in the distance, muffled by the steady beat of your heart as you walked toward the back of the school building.

Fireworks lit up the sky above, loud and brilliant—explosions of crimson, blue, and gold that danced across the clouds and cast flickering shadows against the rooftop. The world felt briefly suspended in light.

And there he was.

Tsukishima Kei stood near the railing, just out of view from the main festivities, bathed in the soft glow of firework shimmer. His arms were loosely crossed, posture relaxed but solitary, as if the weight of the night pressed too closely in crowded spaces.

You hesitated at first, your fingers tightening around the hem of your sleeves. But you took a step forward anyway.

"Tsukishima," you called out, gently.

He didn’t look surprised.

His eyes flicked toward you, half-lidded, unbothered. The familiar indifference was there in the slight tilt of his chin, the unimpressed slant of his brow.

"Let me guess," he drawled, his voice a little more subdued than usual, "another confession?"

You smiled, small. Not embarrassed, not hopeful. Just honest.

"Yeah."

A beat of silence followed. He didn’t scoff this time. Didn’t shake his head or turn away. He just… looked up. Toward the sky. Toward the bursts of light painting the clouds.

"You’re wasting your time," he said at last, tone flat, like he was stating a fact more than trying to hurt you.

You nodded slowly, the corners of your lips dipping in acceptance. “Probably. But I still like you.”

Another silence stretched between you. But it wasn’t heavy.

It felt like the space after a long breath. Like neither of you needed to say anything else to fill it.

Kei didn’t walk away this time.

He stayed there, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes on the horizon as the last few fireworks painted gold into his blond hair and soft shadows under his eyes.

He didn’t say thank you. Or I’m sorry. Or don’t.

But he didn’t push you away either.

His shoulders had relaxed slightly. The usual edge in his stance—the one that screamed Don’t get close—had dulled. And though he didn’t look at you, he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

So you stood beside him, close enough to hear the way his breath caught with each firework burst.

The world was quiet in that little space you shared. No declarations. No grand romantic gestures. Just the sound of distant music, the echo of fireworks, and the stubborn truth you carried in your chest.

You took his silence as progress.

Because sometimes staying said more than any rejection ever could.

By third year, something between you had changed.

You weren’t just a background character in his day anymore. You were there—persistent, present, and impossible to ignore.

You weren’t loud about it. Never demanding, never clingy. But your presence threaded itself into his routine like a habit he didn’t remember forming.

You learned the rhythms of his life: when he had exams and needed space to study, when his knees hurt after long practices and he walked with just the slightest wince. You started carrying an extra pain patch in your bag without saying why. You knew when he wanted silence—those days when the weight of everything made him sharper-tongued than usual—and when he needed a distraction, even if he never asked for one.

He learned things, too. Things you hadn’t meant for him to notice.

That you liked melon bread more than any other snack, even though you pretended not to be picky. That you always hummed softly under your breath when you were nervous—little melodies that stopped just short of forming actual songs. That your smile was always a little brighter, a little fuller, whenever you handed him something: a drink, a small note, chocolates during Valentine’s—even when you knew he wouldn’t react the way you hoped.

He caught himself watching you more often than he liked to admit.

Once, during a water break at practice, you were talking to Yachi near the gym doors. Your laughter filtered in easily, soft and light. Tsukishima glanced your way—just a glance—and lingered too long.

Yamaguchi caught him.

“You like her, don’t you?” Tadashi asked later, a little too casually.

“Shut up,” Kei muttered, not looking up from the sports drink he was pretending to be way too interested in.

Tadashi grinned. “You literally growled at that guy from Nekoma for asking her where she bought her jacket.”

“He was being weird.”

“Jealousy looks weird on you, Kei.”

“I will end you.”

But even that was different. Because he didn’t deny it.

And maybe that meant something.

Still, it wasn’t all teasing and harmless glances. There were moments where something heavier settled between you—where Kei seemed at war with himself, tugged between pride and something softer he didn’t quite know how to carry.

After a tough loss at a practice match—one that hit harder because it had been close—he sat outside the gym alone. The sky was already going gray, the air damp with oncoming rain. Everyone else had filed into the bus, too tired to say much.

You didn’t ask for permission. You just stepped off the bus, walked quietly over, and sat beside him.

You didn’t say anything. Just handed him a canned coffee—his favorite kind, the bitter one you personally thought tasted like disappointment—and let the silence breathe.

Ten minutes passed. Long and quiet and a little raw.

Finally, he spoke.

“You don’t have to keep trying.”

His voice was low. Tired. Defeated in a way you rarely saw from him.

“I’m not worth it.”

You turned to look at him, blinking slowly, your heart pulling tight.

“You don’t get to decide what’s worth it for me.”

His shoulders tensed, jaw clenching briefly. He didn’t look at you. But he didn’t move away either.

He didn’t say anything after that.

You stayed until he finished the coffee.

Then Nationals came by. You were determined to watch them after learning that they’d advance to the semifinals and were finally back at the center court. You were about to pull some strings, but good thing the vice principal was nice enough to let the students watch the volleyball team in Tokyo.

The Nationals were everything.

For Karasuno, it was the culmination of years of growth, grit, and stubborn perseverance. For you, it was watching him—the boy who once scoffed at your feelings—rise higher than anyone expected, one perfectly timed block at a time.

You cheered until your throat was raw. You clutched your chest with every rally. And when they secured third place, you stood in the stands, tears in your eyes and pride blooming so fiercely in your chest it almost hurt.

You were proud of all of them—of Kageyama’s precision, of Hinata’s impossible speed, of Yamaguchi’s quiet bravery—but mostly, you were proud of him.

Tsukishima Kei.

He had changed. Not loudly, not in some grand sweeping arc. But little by little, he had let himself care. You saw it in the way he threw himself into every play, in the way he smirked after a well-timed block, in the way he started calling his teammates by name.

But still, you didn’t confess that day. Not yet.

Because this time, you needed it to be real. Not a question, not a whim, not a gamble.

Late that night, when the stadium had emptied and the streets had quieted, you found him.

The gym was dim and nearly silent, save for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the distant clatter of janitorial carts somewhere down the hall. He stood near center court, his jersey still clinging to him with sweat and exhaustion. His head was tilted back, eyes tracing the ceiling as though he were still replaying the match in his mind.

You stopped in the doorway, watching him quietly for a moment.

“Karasuno did amazing,” you whispered, the words reverent. Like praise. Like prayer.

He didn’t look at you, but his voice came low. “Could’ve done better.”

You stepped closer, your footsteps echoing softly on the polished gym floor. “Tsukki…”

He turned, eyes meeting yours finally.

“…This is the last time.”

His brows drew together, faintly. He said nothing, but you could feel the tension in the air tighten, like the pause before a serve.

“I like you,” you said, voice shaking but certain. “I’ve liked you for three years. But this is the last time I’ll say it. If you reject me now, I’ll stop.”

The silence stretched, taut as a string pulled too tight.

Then he sighed. Looked away.

“You’re so stupid,” he muttered, the words quiet but harsh. “Wasting your time on someone like me.”

You bit your lip, but still smiled through the sting. “Probably.”

Something shifted. His shoulders, usually squared and defensive, lowered a fraction. And then—he stepped closer.

“You never left,” he said, softer now. “Even when I was an ass. Even when I pretended not to care.”

Your breath caught. He wasn’t looking at you directly, but his hands were fidgeting at his sides, clenching and unclenching like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I noticed,” he admitted. “Everything. The snacks. The cheering. The stupid little notes you kept sneaking into my locker. I noticed all of it.”

His voice cracked slightly, like the admission cost him something.

“I just… I didn’t know how to deal with someone who actually gave a damn.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak.

Then his hand lifted—hesitant, trembling just barely—and his fingers brushed against your cheek. Awkward. Gentle. Like he was trying to memorize the shape of your face.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky laugh, relief bubbling up in your chest like the end of a long, aching winter. “Took you long enough.”

And finally—finally—he leaned in.

You met him halfway.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. It was hesitant and slightly off-center, and you could feel the tremor in his fingers where they now cupped your jaw. But it was soft and real and so full of everything unsaid over three long years. Years of cold shoulders, soft glances, unnoticed favors, and a hundred quiet hopes.

When you pulled away, breath mingling, your forehead rested against his, and for a moment, everything was still.

And then—

“Tsukki kissed her!!”

Hinata’s voice echoed across the gym like a fire alarm.

You both froze.

Tsukishima turned slowly, murder in his eyes.

Yachi stumbled into view, wide-eyed with panic. “We weren’t spying!”

“You were literally hiding behind the curtain,” you deadpanned, not even bothering to sound surprised.

“I tried to stop them!” Yachi insisted, flapping her arms like a terrified bird. “They dragged me into it!”

Yamaguchi emerged next, dragging a snickering Hinata by the collar while Kageyama followed, red-faced and visibly trying not to make eye contact.

“I swear to god,” Tsukishima muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I will kill all of you.”

“Totally worth it,” Hinata whispered loudly to Yamaguchi, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“Told you she’d get you eventually,” Yamaguchi added, clearly far too smug for his own good.

You glanced at Tsukishima. He was glaring, his cheeks faintly pink, jaw clenched like he was weighing the pros and cons of turning around and walking into traffic.

But his hand was still resting lightly against your back.

So maybe, you thought, as you looked at him—just maybe—he didn’t mind being caught after all.

Graduation day arrived too soon.

The campus buzzed with a bittersweet energy—laughter ringing out over caps and gowns, tearful hugs exchanged in hallways, and the steady click of camera shutters capturing fleeting moments. You held your diploma in one hand and your future in the other, but your eyes searched for him.

And there he was.

Standing beneath the arching cherry blossoms, hands in his pockets, tassel swinging lazily from his cap. The same spot where you’d confessed to him just a year ago. The same courtyard where everything had changed.

You walked over, heels crunching lightly on fallen petals, nerves fluttering even now—because even after everything, this still felt surreal.

“Still not tired of me?” you asked, voice light, teasing—just enough to cover the emotion behind it.

Tsukishima glanced your way, and for a moment, the world hushed.

He rolled his eyes, but the edge that used to come with it was gone—softened into something warm, familiar. He was smiling now. That small, rare smile he saved just for you.

"Not even close," he murmured.

And then he leaned in, fingers brushing your jaw with quiet certainty, and kissed you. There was no hesitation this time. No guarded edges. Just the press of his lips against yours, firm and steady and full of promise.

Because you waited.

Because you stayed.

Because you never gave up on him—not even when he pushed you away, not even when he said nothing at all.

And against all odds, Tsukishima Kei had fallen in love.

With you.

And in that moment, with cherry blossoms drifting like confetti around you, you knew:

It had been worth every awkward silence.

Every rejection.

Every year of trying.

Because this—this—was everything.

Bonus scene.

Years passed.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on hardwood floors was replaced with roaring crowds, giant jumbotrons, and professional-level pressure. But some things hadn’t changed.

You still sat in the stands, heart in your throat, cheering louder than anyone else. You still kept your eyes on him—watching every block, every play, every subtle tilt of his head. The arenas were bigger now, the spotlight brighter. But to you, he was still Kei. Still the boy who used to hide behind sarcasm and side comments. Still the boy who kissed you under cherry blossoms.

That night, his team had clawed their way to victory in a five-set thriller. The final point had the crowd erupting. You stood in the stands, clapping until your hands stung, pride burning in your chest like a second heartbeat.

Afterward, you made your way to the side entrance—where the press couldn’t follow. You waited behind the barricades, bundled in your coat as the late winter air nipped at your cheeks. The cold settled in your bones, but you didn’t mind.

You always waited.

Eventually, he appeared. His warm-up jacket was unzipped halfway, hair still damp from a quick rinse, duffel bag slung casually over his shoulder. He looked tired—but content. The kind of tired that came from giving everything he had.

His eyes scanned the crowd, ignoring reporters and staff—until they landed on you.

And softened.

"You always wait," he said, stepping closer until he stood on the other side of the gate.

"And you always win," you replied, smiling despite the chill.

He chuckled—low, breathy. Real. He stepped past the barrier with ease, his hand catching yours before pulling you into his arms. His embrace was firm, grounding, like coming home.

His chin rested atop your head, and for a while, neither of you said anything. Just the quiet thrum of distant cheers and the beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

Then, softly, almost like a secret:

“Remember when you said you’d stop confessing if I rejected you again?”

You smiled into his chest. “Yeah. I meant it, too.”

A beat of silence. Then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze steady.

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

And then he kissed you—without restraint, without fear. It was deeper now. Certain. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask questions anymore—it just knew.

You kissed him back with every piece of your heart.

Because time had passed, but love had only deepened.

Because he had chosen you—again and again and again.

And somewhere deep in your soul, you understood:

This was still only the beginning.

© 2025 yukkigiri ☾ creations by luna — please do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.

[tsukkishoney]

Can I req my super glorious, handsome, ineffable, pretty, lovely, sweet, baby, boyfriend, husband, soulmate TSUKISHIMA being such a loser? I want em successfully ragebaiting his s/o and then loose his mind if they start to be mad fr

That description of him is so real😚 so sorry this took so long, here is your request of tsukishima ragebaiting his s/o then going crazy when s/o does actually get mad👀

wc: 1.1k

tsukki being a loser and down bad for reader deep down, gender neutral reader

There’s something fundamentally wrong with the smug way Tsukishima grins when he knows he’s gotten under your skin.

It starts innocently. A throwaway comment over breakfast while you scroll on your phone and he rifles through the fridge like it’s personally insulted him.

“You know, I don’t think you could beat me in a game of anything,” he says casually, grabbing the milk like this isn’t the start of war.

You glance up. “What, like volleyball?”

“No. That’s unfair. I mean like mental games. You’re too emotionally driven. Predictable.”

You blink slowly at him. “Predictable?”

He takes a sip of his coffee, then looks at you with a dangerous little smirk. “I bet I could make you mad in two minutes. One, if I didn’t care about consequences.”

You set your phone down.

“What consequences?” you ask coolly.

“You giving me the silent treatment. Maybe pouting. You know, baby tantrums.”

Your eye twitches. He’s lucky you don’t throw the toast at his head.

Still, you decide not to let it get to you. Because that’s exactly what he wants. He thrives off reactions, off watching you squirm and snap. So instead, you look him dead in the eyes and smile sweetly.

“Cute,” you hum. “You think being a walking trivia bot makes you clever.”

His brow twitches.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re the type of guy who reads one Wikipedia article and thinks he’s the second coming of Einstein.”

“You asked me if penguins have knees.”

“It was a joke.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

You throw a napkin at his face. He flicks it off, smirking wider.

This goes on all morning. His favorite hobby—ragebaiting you. Testing your limits. Poking the bear and acting shocked when it growls.

Later, you’re stretched out on the couch, and he’s lounging at the other end, lazy and smug, fingers tapping idly on your leg as you try to focus on Mario Kart.

“You always pout when you’re losing,” he mutters.

“I’m not losing.”

“You are. It’s kind of endearing.”

“Tsukki…”

“Like a baby learning how to walk. So determined. So unaware of how tragic it looks.”

You pause the game. You don’t even look at him.

Then, slowly, you place the controller down and stand up.

He blinks. “What, seriously? Come on. Don’t tell me you’re mad.”

You don’t answer. You walk straight to the bedroom, shut the door quietly, and say nothing.

For a moment, there’s silence.

Then he calls out.

“Babe?”

You say nothing.

“Hey. Don’t be like that.”

Still nothing.

He comes to the door. Knocks once.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I pushed it. But you’ve got to admit I was kinda funny.”

You pull out your phone and scroll.

Ten minutes pass.

Fifteen.

The knock comes again, a little more hesitant this time.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment? Seriously?”

You continue to say nothing. You know him. Tsukishima Kei thinks he’s untouchable. Thinks he can get away with anything as long as he throws in a lazy smirk and an “I love you” when things get dicey.

So this time, you decide to play the long game.

You ice him out. Properly.

No reactions. No biting back. No glares, no playful shoves. Just cool, distant civility.

He’s confused at first. You still sit beside him at dinner, still respond when he asks a direct question, but the warmth is gone.

He tries teasing you again. Pokes at your cheek. Makes a snide little comment about your taste in TV shows.

You hum noncommittally and go back to your food.

No smile. No sass. Just ice.

He stares at you, completely thrown.

The next day, he asks if you want to go out for lunch.

“I’m busy,” you say, without looking up.

“Too busy for me?” he tries, like it’s a joke.

“Too busy for games.”

His smile slips.

On day three, he comes home with your favorite snacks and places them silently in front of you.

You glance at them. Say nothing. Pick up one, eat it without reaction.

“I got the chocolate kind,” he says, sounding hopeful.

“Cool.”

He’s unraveling. You can feel it.

By day five, he’s lost it entirely.

“Okay,” he snaps, finally, “this is ridiculous.”

You look up from your book.

“What is?”

“This. You pretending not to be mad while giving me the cold shoulder like I kicked your puppy.”

You tilt your head. “You wanted to get a reaction. Now you’re not getting one, and you’re upset?”

He clenches his jaw. “I was messing around. You always bite back.”

“Maybe I got tired.”

He steps closer. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I’m not standing here trying to fix it. You’re being unfair.”

You close your book.

“You called me emotionally predictable. You made fun of me. And then when I walked away, you treated it like a joke. So yeah, I decided to stop reacting. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Tsukishima’s face falls completely.

His hands twitch at his sides, unsure whether to reach for you.

“I didn’t mean to actually hurt you.”

“I know,” you say. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t.”

The silence that follows is heavy.

Then, he exhales. Steps forward.

His voice is lower, quiet now.

“I was being a loser,” he says. “A smug, insufferable, annoying loser.”

You stare.

“I miss you,” he adds, more softly. “Even when you’re three feet away, it feels like you’re gone. I hate it.”

That earns a twitch in your expression. Just barely.

He sees it.

“I’ll stop,” he says quickly. “Seriously. The teasing, the comments—whatever you want. I’ll stop being a smartass.”

You finally look up at him fully.

“I don’t want you to stop being you,” you say. “I just want you to respect that I’m not always in the mood to be your chew toy.”

His expression softens. He nods.

Then, in a small voice: “So… you’re not leaving me forever?”

You blink. “You really thought I was breaking up with you?”

“You wouldn’t even touch the gummy bears. That’s how I knew it was bad.”

You try not to smile. You really try.

But it cracks. Just a little.

He sees it, and relief floods his entire body.

You roll your eyes and hold out your arms.

He practically falls into them.

“Still a loser,” you murmur against his chest.

“The biggest,” he mumbles. “But I’m your loser.”

Tyy for the req! Should I make a part 2 where reader ragebaits him back as revenge and he loses it in a different kind of way?

[biggianteggplant]

“Things They Didn’t Mean”

They didn’t mean to hurt you — but they did. And you started changing because of it. Now they notice… and it’s already different.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

“Watch what you eat,” Ushijima says, voice low, neutral. He’s looking at your tray like it’s offended him.

You smile—a practiced, automatic thing—and laugh it off. “Oh, right. Yeah. Just hungry, I guess.”

He nods. Just once. And that’s the end of it. To him, anyway.

The next day, you bring a salad. You poke at the lettuce with your plastic fork, chew each bite like penance. He glances at your lunch, says nothing.

The day after, it’s just fruit. You peel a clementine slowly, fingers sticky with juice, and avoid his eyes.

Then you stop bringing your usual snack. The one he used to reach over and steal a bite of without asking. The one that always made him smile—subtly, but still. Now your bag is empty. So are you.

By the fourth day, Tendou corners him by the gym doors. “Hey, Wakatoshi,” he says, voice too light. “You realize she’s barely eating, right?”

Ushijima blinks. Still, silent. His gaze drifts toward you—sitting against the wall, water bottle untouched, your eyes vacant in a way he can’t quite name.

That evening, practice ends. The sun is low, gym almost empty. You sit alone on the bleachers, staring at nothing, your fingers curling around the hem of your sleeve.

He approaches without a word, sits beside you like it's instinct. In his hands: two onigiri, wrapped carefully.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he says, eyes on the rice, not you. “I just… I care if you're healthy. Not thinner.”

You don’t respond. Your fingers twitch toward your bag, but fall short. He places one onigiri in your lap, the other in his own hands.

You pick at the rice. Slowly. Cautiously. Like you’ve forgotten how to be hungry.

He doesn’t speak. Just sits with you, quiet, steady. Watching. There’s guilt in the way his shoulders slope. In the way his chopsticks pause every few bites, waiting to see if you’ll keep going.

You finish half. It’s the most you’ve eaten all week.

He nudges the second one a little closer. Not pushing—just offering.

“Please eat,” he says, barely louder than a whisper. “With me.”

And you do.

For a long time, he says nothing else. But his silence is kind now. Careful. And when he finally looks at you, it’s with eyes that say he’s sorry in all the ways words can’t.

SHIRABU KENJIRO

The words slipped out of Shirabu’s mouth like a diagnosis—clinical, cold, final.

And the worst part? You weren’t even fighting.

You had just spilled tea on your notes—weeks of lectures and scribbled diagrams now soaked through and curling at the edges. You laughed, a little sheepishly, brushing at the mess with your sleeve. “Well. That’s my sign to take a break, I guess—”

He didn’t laugh.

He stared at the papers like they’d personally offended him. “You’re not cut out for the kind of future I want.”

You blinked. “…Future?”

He nodded once, distracted, eyes already flicking back to his laptop. “Medicine’s not for people who lose focus. Who make little mistakes.”

You smiled, like it didn’t sting. Laughed, like you hadn’t heard that same voice in your own head on bad days. “Right. Of course.”

That night, you stayed up redoing your notes from scratch. And the night after that. And the one after that.

You started waking up before him. Stopped doodling in the margins of your med books. Stopped humming when you cooked, because every second needed to be productive. Coffee became a meal. Sleep became a luxury.

You didn’t complain. Didn’t cry. Just… shifted. Quietly. Carefully. Willfully.

The version of you Shirabu fell for—the one who teased him while quizzing him on anatomy terms, who wore fuzzy socks to study groups, who once made him a human heart out of Jello just to prove a joke—she was slowly fading.

At first, he liked the change.

The silence. The discipline. The way your pens were always aligned now. The way you never interrupted him mid-sentence anymore.

But then… He noticed.

You never touched him just because anymore. Never made dumb puns over dinner. Your shoulders stayed tense even in your sleep. The music in your world had gone quiet—and he hadn’t realized how much he loved its sound until it disappeared.

One night, he came home late from the library and found you at your desk, fast asleep. Your glasses were still on. Your hand was stained with blue ink, fingertips trembling slightly from too much caffeine and too little rest. There was a cut on your thumb from a broken pen. Your lips were dry. You looked pale—drained, like all your color had been slowly siphoned away.

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, heart sinking.

And when he touched your hand, you didn’t even stir.

He sat down beside you, swallowing guilt like poison. “I didn’t mean for you to become someone else,” he whispered, the words raw and foreign in his mouth. “I just wanted you with me. I didn’t realize I was asking you to lose yourself.”

His voice cracked. For the first time in years, he cried.

Quietly. Beside you.

Because you were still there. Breathing. Trying. But something in you had cracked.

And he had been the one to make the first fracture.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

That was the last thing he said to you that day. You had just finished gushing about your favorite show—something about parallel universes and time loops and a sad, smiley villain who reminded you of him (your words, not his). You were laughing, hands moving, eyes bright.

And he had sighed, leaned back in his chair, and muttered: “Are you done yet?”

You blinked. Laughed it off. “Right. Sorry. Got carried away.”

He didn’t respond. Just went back to scrolling.

After that, you didn’t talk about your favorite shows anymore. Stopped sending him memes. Stopped rambling in long voice notes that always ended with you laughing at your own jokes.

He noticed, of course. But didn’t say anything.

Yamaguchi did.

“She doesn’t text you stuff anymore, huh?”

Tsukishima scoffed. “Didn’t realize you were tracking my notifications.”

But later that night, alone in his room, he opened your chat. Scrolled through the silence. Past the last thing you sent—a meme, three weeks ago. A stupid one, about dinosaurs and headphones. He hadn’t even reacted to it.

The empty space beneath it felt louder than any rant you used to send.

The next day, he walked past a store on the way home and froze. In the window: a little keychain of your favorite character. The one you wouldn’t shut up about for two whole weeks. The one he pretended not to care about but secretly knew the name of.

He bought it.

He didn’t even think. Just… did.

The next morning, he dropped it on your desk before class. No warning. No note.

You blinked, staring at the tiny figure in your hand. “What’s this for?”

He adjusted his glasses, gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder. “So you’ll annoy me again.”

You stared at him for a beat, stunned. Then your lips twitched.

You didn’t say anything. But that night, he got a message.

[you]: i just rewatched episode 8 again and i need you to understand how emotionally devastating that scene was. also this keychain is SO cute i might cry.

He read it three times. Smiled. Just a little.

(Translation: I forgive you. I missed you too.)

SUNA RINTARO

He had said it offhandedly. Barely looking up from his phone.

You had just sent him a selfie—your hair a little messy, eyes a little dull, but your smile was there. Honest. Tired, maybe. But still you.

And he said: “You look tired.”

You blinked at the screen, lips twitching in a way that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Then replied, “Yeah. Been a long day.”

After that, you stopped sending selfies. Started fixing your hair more before calls. Wore cooler tones. More neutrals. Nothing bright. Nothing bold. Started double-checking the lighting. Your angles. Yourself.

One day you joked, “Better not look tired again, right?” But your voice was too quiet. The kind that curls at the edge of something fragile.

Atsumu noticed it first.

“She doesn’t send you stuff anymore, huh?” Suna didn’t answer. “You told her she looked tired, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. But his thumb froze over your chat. Unread messages: none. The last picture you sent had disappeared after twenty-four hours. You didn’t save it. And you hadn’t sent another since.

The silence in the thread felt heavier than words.

So he stared at his camera for a long second, then sighed and snapped a picture. No filters. No angles. Just him—messy hair, hoodie hood half-on, eyes barely open.

He sent it with a message: “This is how I look when I actually look tired.” “You always look like someone I wanna keep looking at.”

You stared at the screen. Chest aching. Then, finally:

[you]: you're still bad at words. [suna]: yeah. but i’m trying.

And he was. In his own way—awkward, quiet, a little late.

But trying.

(And somehow, that was what mattered most.)

OIKAWA TOORU

You didn’t mean to bother him.

You had only sent three messages. Short ones. Thoughtful, even.

[you]: hey, u free later? [you]: you okay? you’ve been quiet today. [you]: let me know if you need anything. i’ll leave you be. promise.

And then it came. His reply.

Flat. Dismissive. Laced with exhaustion and that familiar edge he gets when he’s overwhelmed.

[oikawa]: you’re really needy sometimes.

You stared at the screen for a moment too long. Then you smiled. The kind of smile you force when people are watching. “lol sorry. my bad.” One last message. That was all.

And then you stopped.

You stopped texting first. Stopped sending him memes you knew would make him laugh. Stopped double-texting, triple-texting. Stopped reaching out at all.

You gave him what he seemed to want.

Space.

He noticed by dinner.

By the time the team wrapped up practice, Oikawa was already scrolling through your messages, rereading old ones like a lifeline. There were no new ones. No “I miss you.” No “Goodnight.” Just… nothing.

He opened your chat three times that night. Typed. Deleted. Typed. Deleted again.

What was he even supposed to say?

Iwaizumi noticed the silence too.

“She’s not needy,” he said while they packed up. “You’re just used to being worshipped.”

That stung.

Because it was true.

Oikawa Tooru had always been admired—on the court, online, in every room he walked into. He thought love looked like attention. He hadn’t realized until now that he’d treated your warmth like a reflex, not a choice. Until you took it away.

Until your silence said everything.

So three nights later, he was standing in front of your door.

A hoodie pulled over his head. Hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He looked small. Not in height—but in guilt.

He knocked. Once. Twice.

You opened it.

Your eyes were tired. Guarded. The space between you filled with things unsaid.

Oikawa’s voice was low. He didn’t even try to smile.

“…I miss your ‘needy,’” he said.

You blinked, lips parting slightly.

“I miss you.”

Still, you said nothing. Just looked at him like you weren’t sure if this was another performance or the real thing.

“I don’t want space,” he continued. “I want your clingy texts. I want the memes. The constant check-ins. The way you send me random thoughts at midnight.”

He looked down at his shoes.

“I want everything. Even the parts I didn’t appreciate.”

Silence.

Then he looked up, eyes raw.

“I only push away the people I care too much about,” he whispered. “And that’s you.”

It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just honest.

For a long moment, you stood there. Then, slowly—quietly—you stepped aside.

He didn’t wait for permission.

He just walked in, shoulders trembling slightly.

You closed the door behind him.

And neither of you said another word. Because this time, he would show you through presence what he failed to express in words.

He came back.

And he didn’t let go.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

It was just a bad game.

He was frustrated. Quiet. His shoulders tight. His jaw locked.

You knew how he got. You didn’t say anything.

You just reached out—softly, gently—for his hand. Not to fix him. Just to say I’m here.

But he pulled back like your touch burned him.

“Don’t touch me right now.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be.

You blinked, hand frozen mid-air. Then you let it drop, your voice a quiet crumble. “…Sorry.”

That was it.

You stepped back. Gave him space. And from that day on, you stayed there.

You stopped reaching for him. Stopped brushing your fingers against his sleeve when you passed by. Stopped fixing his hair when it curled over his forehead. Stopped lacing your fingers through his on long walks.

You hesitated now—every time. Your hands hovered near him, never landing.

And Kiyoomi… didn’t notice.

Not at first.

But Komori did.

He waited until the locker room was empty, then slammed his locker shut louder than necessary.

“You told her not to touch you,” he said, arms crossed. “And now she doesn’t. Happy?”

Kiyoomi blinked, confused.

“She flinched when you brushed her arm, Omi. She flinched. That girl used to hold your hand like it was second nature.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve.

Komori left. Kiyoomi sat down, heart unsettled, brain replaying every tiny moment—your hands curled into your lap, your stiff shoulders, the way your gaze flicked to his fingers then away.

It was true.

You were gone, somehow, even while still beside him.

That night—no, early morning—he couldn’t sleep.

He stared at his phone screen in the dark, thumbs hovering. Then:

[sakusa]: i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted.

No typing bubbles appeared.

He didn’t expect them to.

But the next day, he found you outside the gym, hugging your arms to yourself, pretending not to see him.

He walked straight to you.

You looked up, cautious.

He didn’t speak. Not yet.

He just reached forward—and for once, it was him who was shaking—and took your hand. Both of his around yours, like anchoring something fragile.

You looked down at the connection. Then back at him.

His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“I want you close,” he said. “Even when I’m upset. Especially then.”

Your lip trembled.

He held your hand tighter.

And in that quiet moment, on the edge of hurt and healing, you let yourself believe him.

Because sometimes, people push away what they need most. And sometimes, if they’re lucky, they get the chance to hold it again.

KENMA KOZUME

You used to sit beside him.

No words. No noise. Just quiet company while his fingers danced across the keyboard, headset snug over his ears.

You liked being close. He never complained—until one night, between matches, he muttered without looking at you:

“You’re kind of distracting when I’m streaming.”

It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t sharp.

But it stuck.

You blinked. “Oh.”

And after that… you stopped.

You stopped bringing snacks and dropping soft kisses to his temple when he won. Stopped curling up next to him. Stopped humming under your breath or watching from the corner of his screen.

You stayed in your room more.

Quiet. Out of sight.

Invisible.

Kenma didn’t notice at first—too busy adjusting his settings, managing collabs, climbing ranks.

But Kuroo noticed. Over Discord, mid-game, as Kenma sat in silence between rounds, Kuroo muttered:

“She doesn’t bug you anymore, huh?”

Kenma blinked. “What?”

“You look kinda lonely now.”

The words landed like a delayed hit.

Kenma glanced to the side—out of instinct—at the space where you used to sit. Empty. Still.

He stared longer than he meant to.

His fingers paused over the keys. The stream kept running. The chat wondered what happened. But Kenma didn’t move.

Later that night, he found himself in front of your door. A bag of your favorite snacks in hand. Slightly crumpled from how tightly he’d been holding it.

He knocked once. Soft.

You opened the door, eyes tired. Surprised.

He didn’t speak at first. Just held out the bag.

“…What’s this?” you asked quietly.

“Peace offering.”

Your brow arched. “You said I was distracting.”

He looked down, fingers flexing.

“I know,” he murmured. “I was wrong.”

You stayed quiet.

So he stepped forward, placed the snack gently beside his controller on his desk, then turned back to you.

“Come sit with me?” he asked. Then, even softer: “I miss your noise.”

You blinked.

And for the first time in days, your lips curved—just slightly.

He held his hand out toward you.

And this time, when you took it, he didn’t let go. Not even when the game started. Not even when chat noticed.

Because he wasn’t playing to win anymore. He just wanted you back beside him.

Even if you distracted him. Especially if you did.

MIYA ATSUMU

You hadn’t meant to cry.

You didn’t even realize it was happening—until your voice cracked mid-sentence, and you saw the way Atsumu’s expression tightened, not with concern, but irritation.

“I’m not in the mood for your drama right now.”

It hit like a slammed door.

You blinked once. Twice.

Then you nodded.

"Sorry," you said, voice barely there.

And after that—you stopped.

You stopped venting. Stopped opening up. Started smiling too wide, laughing a little too quickly.

"I’m fine." "Just tired." "Nothing big."

You said it so much, you almost believed it.

But Atsumu didn’t.

Not at first—he was too wrapped up in training, in pressure, in exhaustion and ego. But Osamu noticed.

“You broke something, y’know,” he said one night, tossing a towel over Atsumu’s head. “You might wanna fix it before it stays broken.”

That’s what finally made him pause.

And that’s what led him here— To the empty gym hallway, where he found you sitting against the wall, knees to your chest, eyes blank.

You didn’t notice him at first. Didn’t look up. Didn’t flinch.

He walked over, crouched down, and gently rested his forehead against your shoulder.

“…I’m the drama,” he whispered, voice raw. “Not you.”

You stayed quiet.

He clenched his fists. Loosened them. Then tried again.

“Please don’t hide your feelings from me. Ever.”

Your throat tightened.

You looked away, eyes burning, lip trembling—but still, you said nothing.

So Atsumu pulled you into his arms.

Held you there. Not asking for forgiveness, not rushing it—just there.

“I was stupid,” he mumbled into your hair. “I was tired and selfish and I made you feel like too much.”

His voice cracked.

“You’re not too much. I was just too stupid to handle someone real.”

You didn’t say anything right away.

But your hands slowly—finally—gripped the back of his jersey.

And that was enough.

Because this time, he wouldn’t let go first.

KITA SHINSUKE

You were tired. Not just physically, but the kind of tired that settles in your chest and makes everything feel heavier. You forgot to do something small — misplanted a row of seedlings in your shared garden, or maybe you overslept and missed breakfast with him.

He didn’t yell. He never did. Just that calm, steady voice:

“That’s not very disciplined of you.”

No anger. Just disappointment. And somehow, that was worse. It clung to you for days.

You started fixing your posture more, triple-checking tasks, waking up earlier than needed. No more lazy mornings. No more spontaneous dancing in the rain or lying in the grass just to feel the sun. You stopped being soft. You started being… correct.

And he noticed. How your laugh faded. How your hands trembled when you thought he was watching.

It was Aran who quietly pulled him aside one afternoon. They were harvesting. The sun was warm. But Kita felt cold at the words:

“She’s not blooming anymore. She’s surviving.” “You’re so focused on raising standards… you didn’t see her lower herself.”

That night, he found you tending the garden. The same bed you both built together. The soil was dry. The petals curled inward. And so were you.

He knelt beside you silently, heart heavy.

“Discipline matters,” he started. “But so does grace. I should’ve given you more of it.”

You didn’t look at him. Your fingers kept digging gently through the soil.

So he did something rare. He placed his hand over yours. Soft. Still. Sure.

“You don’t need to be perfect… to be precious to me.”

Your breath hitched. And when you finally looked up — eyes glassy, dirt smudged on your cheek — he smiled, just barely.

“Let’s grow softer things. Together.”

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

You’d tried something new. Maybe you curled your hair, tried eyeliner, wore that outfit you weren’t sure about but finally had the courage to put on. You didn’t expect a grand reaction. But you didn’t expect that either.

“You look weird.”

He didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. Just said it like a volleyball stat: flat. Unthinking. Unfiltered.

You smiled like it didn’t hurt. Went to the bathroom that night and wiped it all off. Told yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

But the next day, you played it safe. No more makeup. Neutral clothes. You toned it down, layer by layer, until it felt like you’d erased something. And he didn’t even seem to notice.

But others did. Sugawara asked Kageyama during practice, teasing but genuine:

“What happened to all those selfies she used to send you? I kinda miss the glitter.”

Kageyama blinked. Paused. Scrolled through his phone that night. Through bright lipstick, messy buns, silly filters, captioned doodles. Gone, now.

And then it hit him.

You’d stopped sending anything. Stopped showing anything.

He found you that night, seated quietly on the porch or your shared bench near the gym.

“Hey…”

You looked up. Tired. Dull.

He sat beside you, awkward fingers twitching on his knee.

“You’re… not weird. I mean, you are, but like. Not—bad weird. Like… your kind of weird. And I liked that.”

You didn’t respond. Just stared ahead.

So he added, softer this time:

“I’m stupid with words. But I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to disappear.”

You swallowed. He turned slightly, desperate and clumsy:

“Please don’t change for something dumb I said. I didn’t realize how much I loved… all of that. All of you.”

You turned to him. Eyes glossy, voice small:

“Then why didn’t you say that sooner?”

He didn’t have an answer. So instead, he reached into his pocket and held out the phone screen — a selfie of you from a month ago.

“I saved this one. I liked your smile here the most.”

DAICHI SAWAMURA

It was something small. You tripped on a stair and instinctively, he caught your wrist, pulling you close before you fell.

Someone whistled. A teammate teased: “Ooh, Daichi, playing knight in shining armor?”

He panicked. Embarrassed. Tried to play it cool. So he shrugged and muttered,

“She’s not my responsibility.”

Laughed it off.

But your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

You’d never expected him to take responsibility for you. You weren’t asking to be saved. But you’d thought — maybe — it was okay to lean. To trust. To fall near him.

After that day, you stopped doing that.

You handled everything alone — even when your hands shook carrying too much, even when your emotions threatened to spill.

No more late-night texts. No more spontaneous hangouts. No more quiet moments walking beside him.

You avoided everyone for a while.

Until Suga found you missing again from another group outing and went straight to Daichi.

“She knows she’s not your responsibility, Daichi. She just thought… you gave a damn.”

That silenced him.

That night, he went up to the school rooftop — the place you always went when you needed to breathe. You were already there, arms wrapped around your knees, eyes on the sky.

He didn’t speak. Just sat beside you. Let the silence ache between you both.

Then finally, barely audible:

“I wanted to protect you. Not push you away.”

You didn’t look at him. You just said, hollowly:

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

But he shook his head gently.

“No, you don’t. I didn’t say that because I didn’t care. I said it because I was scared of how much I did.”

You blinked, eyes burning.

“You’re not my responsibility,” he whispered again — but this time softer, reverent. “You’re my person. That’s… different.”

[dilucssv-deactivated20251203]

ꨄ 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓

(after sleeping with him the night before)

cast: diluc, alhaitham, wriothesley, ajax x fem reader

warnings: fem reader, nudity, reader wears dilucs shirt in his part, reader also wears wriothesleys coat in his part + he throws you onto the bed, reader is shorter than ajax in his part, the tiniest bits of angst because they really like you, clingy men 🥺, nsfw but no actual smut

MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Diluc wakes, and the sheets pool at his waist as he suddenly sits up in bed. The way he drags his hand over his face while he blinks away the remnants of sleep as he takes in his surroundings has his heart dropping to this stomach.

Where have you gone?

The night before was a whirlwind of kisses and heated touches that turned into naked skin on naked skin and heavy strokes that brought out the most beautiful sound of you crying Dilucs name for him, and eventually the fire that consumed you both multiple times, turned into a flicker of warm embers as you fell asleep in his arms.

Only now as the dawn breaks, Diluc finds himself alone in his bedroom. Was he a fool? His heart proves time and time again to be his greatest foe, and perhaps his deep and doting feelings for you were not truly returned by yourself and now resulted in you leaving before he woke up as a means to lessen the blow of your rejection. Diluc swallows down a pang of heartbreak - it’d been a rather long time since he last felt this way in such a fresh sense. His jaw sets as his mind starts to fly through his interactions with you. Mostly good. Your smiles. Your laughter. The flutter of your lashes whenever he was close. Had he offended you somehow amongst all of these months of falling for you? Had you only been putting on an act only to spare his feelings? He thought he was a perceptive man, and celestia knows he spent endless amounts of time just…wanting to know you. He finds his hand coming up to settle over his heart, clutching at his chest when he sighs in resignation to another day without you by his side.

Diluc remains lost in his thoughts when the heavy wooden door of his bedroom clicks open, he swiftly pulls his blankets up higher on his body, though he’s known Adelinde his entire life, he still hard pressed to remain modest around the woman. Perhaps after a cup of coffee Diluc will get his bearings a little better.

Only it’s not his head maid who walks into his bedroom with her hands clasped - it’s you, tip - toeing into the room with a cup of coffee in each hand and only clad in…Diluc’s shirt. The material sweeps across your bare thighs, the thighs he was eagerly between the night before, your bare feet light on the wooden floor as you attempt to sneak in further. You suddenly meet his gaze and you bark out a soft, sheepish laugh while your body language relaxes a bit. You then smile sweetly when you approach closer, sitting by Diluc on the mattress and handing him a cup of coffee, the steam still rising from the ceramic rim.

“I hope you don’t mind me going to the kitchens! I just woke up a bit early and thought it might be nice to surprise you with a cup.” you say a little sheepishly, as if you were forbidden from exploring anywhere beyond Dilucs room after a passionate night with him.

“You’re here.” Diluc breathes, you look quite disheveled, but as beautiful as ever, especially being in his shirt that slips off your shoulder as you adjust yourself on the side of the bed next to him.

You blank a little, huffing a soft laugh into your coffee as you sip before you reach over to place it on the nightstand.

“Of course I am…um, is that okay?” your face suddenly drops in the slightest and Diluc can’t have that, no. Not after he just spent what felt like hours of agonizing if he had lost you. He swiftly places his cup on the nightstand next to yours, and in the next motion he’s leaning into you with an arm around your waist and pulling you fully onto the bed beneath him. You have no chance to say anything before Diluc presses his lips to yours. You taste like coffee and when you sigh as your leg hikes itself over his hip to keep him close, Diluc can’t help but smile against your mouth.

You giggle sweetly when he nuzzles his nose against your cheek and presses a kiss to your jaw as his large palm cradles under your thigh to pull your leg higher on his waist, to hold you closer as he presses you into the mattress with a wildfire of kisses that sets your pulse ablaze under your skin. Your hands tangling in his hair feels familiar, it feels like the start of how many mornings together will begin.

“Actually, I’d like you to stay longer if you’ll have me.” he murmurs against the warm skin of your neck, watching your lashes flutter. When you nod, grinning before he kisses you again while your bodies roll around together in the bed, Diluc finds his heart leaping in his chest at the knowledge that you do want him back, you do feel the same way as him. And that is all he needs in this moment.

Alhaitham’s brow furrows in his sleep, suddenly feeling a certain chill in his bed that he’s certain wasn’t the case a few hours ago. His eyes crack open, and he frowns at the dim light of the morning shining in through the window. But even moreso, his hand reaches out to an empty space in his bed, and his chest tightens.

Did you leave before he woke up?

He recalls your body under his palms, the way you writhed for him and arched under his every touch and roll of his hips, your nails raking down his back as he studied your every reaction. The stars outside only partially brilliant in comparison to the way you made him feel during those restless hours of intimacy until you were asleep on his chest.

Perhaps his intelligence was indeed limited. He lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling above him and wonders what happened. He had never, at least not truly, ever put his heart on the line in such a manner. You had felt….different. Not in an agonizing sense of something that had come to turn his life upside down, but as something he could reach with his fingertips and hold onto. Someone he could be at ease with and share a comfortable life with. He grimaces to himself, maybe he is a fool, letting his heart lead him and allowing his mind to follow suit, to follow you to the depths of wherever you would go. He would do it, however far, for you. He wasn’t familiar with this type of heartbreak. Although, he figured it could be a learning experience…once his chest stops aching.

His aqua eyes flutter shut once again, hoping that after a few more hours of sleep he’ll wake up feeling a bit more level headed. Much to his chagrin, it’s swiftly interrupted when he feels the mattress dip beside him. His eyes fly open to see you scooting into the sheets, wiggling your way to his side. You giggle and press yourself against him, Alhaitham barely flinches at the chill of your bare feet tangling with his legs.

“Good morning.” you whisper, beaming up at him, your hand comes up to cradle his jaw.

“Good….morning. Where were you?” Alhaitham muses quietly, turning to his side to face you with an arm winding around your waist. He can feel your bare skin under his touch. You’re still completely nude. He’s really trying not to release a breath of relief at you still being here, yet his eyes simmer with something full of adoration when he looks at you.

“The bathroom? Why, did you miss me?” you laugh with a raise of your eyebrow, eyes soft when Alhaitham presses his cheek into your palm. You nearly melt when he looks to you half lidded and his face moves closer until he smears a butterfly wing of a kiss to your lips.

“Something like that.” he affirms with another kiss, and he rolls over on top of you so that your body fits against his further while your mouths move in tandem with soft sighs and low moans as Alhaithams kisses grow more desperate and deep. His hand slips between your bodies and you whimper, making his skin prickle with goosebumps. He decides then to let go of his own head for a bit, his heart pounding at the way your eyes shine while you look at him, and he smiles at you warmly while pressing himself impossibly closer to you. He really is happy that you’re still here. He hopes that you’ll stay awhile longer.

Wriothesley groans as he stretches, his muscles shifting and rolling as he moves around in his bed. He rolls over to his side and his ice blue eyes flicker open with expectancy, only for a sudden chill to settle in his chest. He notices the sheets on the other side of the bed have been pulled back, a telltale sign of a body that had once been occupying that space beside him, is now empty.

You….left?

It was a lot last night, a flurry of tangled limbs and desperate, wanting touches, your body bared to him and his soul bared to yours. The way you were spread out for him again and again, your lips on his ear and crying his name. His own need for you manifesting in the most passionate of ways that left you both a tired and blissed out pile on his black sheets.

Wriothesley sits up in bed, the heels of his palms coming to rub the sleep from his eyes and he sighs, a low disappointed chuckle coming from his throat as he shakes his head. He should’ve known. He…why did he think that falling in love was a good idea? He clearly wasn’t the type of man who would be able to hold down an actual relationship, to be able to relish on your laughter or the way you play with his hair, to be able to say that something, that someone was his. You. His head hangs down as he turns his body to get out of bed, a shower and a few hours of practice at the pankration ring calling to him to get his mind off of this. He could never be angry at you, never, he was angry that he thought for a moment he was going to be happy.

He’s in the midst of feeling annoyingly sorry for himself when he hears the soft sound of someone clearing their throat. He turns on his heel, sheets falling from being tangled around his waist and leaving him bare as he spots you standing there in nothing but your underwear and his coat thrown over your shoulders, effectively swallowing your form. You’re holding a small tray of what looks like is a tea pot, two tea cups, and a small array of croissants and cheese. You look at him a bit startled, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have and Wriothesley stares at you as you shyly pad up to him to set the tray on the nightstand.

“Hey.” you breathe with a small smile, blinking up at him.

“Hi.” he says softly, it comes out much more….hopeful than he intended, like his words could reach out and pull you to him.

“I made breakfast for us with a few things I found around your quarters, I remembered you like two cubes of sugar -“ but before you can finish, a pair of burly arms are pulling you into a sturdy chest as Wriothesleys lip crash into yours. You gasp into his mouth when his coat falls from your shoulders and onto the floor, giving him an in to push his hands down under your ass to lift you into his arms. You moan at another kiss so sharp it pulls at your bottom lip, and in the next moment you’re squealing as he effortlessly tosses you onto the bed. Your head snaps to the tray of food on the nightstand a couple feet away and then back to the man who crawls over your body to smear kisses to your lips while his naked form meshes itself to you. You giggle when he descends to your neck and nips there, then breathing out a sigh as he rests his head against your shoulder. You tilt your head and run your nails through his scalp as he shudders over you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a little…upset by me not being in bed with you when you woke up? Am I your new favorite pillow?” you giggle with a kiss to his temple.

“If I said yes, would you stay?” Wriothesley looks up at you, and his eyes flash with something tender, something full of yearning, he cracks a small smile and you nod.

“I can stay as long as you want.” you murmur, letting him kiss you deeply again. He’ll hold off a little longer on telling you he wants you to stay forever, perhaps after breakfast.

when Ajax begins to stir from his sleep, he immediately throws his arm out to the side, intent on finding someone beside him beneath the blankets to pull closer during a chilly morning. But he’s met with…nothing. The endless of ocean of his gaze is hazy when they open to see his bed is not occupied by the other person who just was there mere hours ago.

You were gone.

His mind wanders to the way you were on top of him, the way you moved your hips as your head tipped back in ecstasy, it was one of many positions you were in with him. His stamina and your sheer need for him continued to urge you both to remain wrapped up in each other all night, until it seemed like the morning sun was going to greet you from how many times you let him bury himself in you.

He laughs bitterly when he stands up to gather his pants off the floor, pulling them up with a few fleeting thoughts of you. He really should move on from this as quickly as possible. But, once he pauses his movements his heart drops to his stomach. He fell for you, with an honest and open heart and a gentle hand that for once wasnt stained, it was soft on your face when you smiled and laughed and rolled your eyes as you said his name. You felt like a puzzle piece he didn’t realize he had been missing. He figures it’s for the best what with his line of work, you deserve better. Still, he had hoped somewhere within him that this could be the start of a new adventure.

He starts to make his way to the bathroom to hopefully get cleaned up and to head to his next assignment, what’s the point of staying another moment longer anyway - when his ears perk up suddenly at the sound of the shower being turned off. And within the next agonizing minute, the door opens and Ajax looks down at you all wet haired and wrapped in a fuzzy white towel, while steam from the bathroom rolls out around your bodies. You smile shyly at him as greeting.

“You’re…”

“All squeaky clean.” you finish with a light laugh, a few water droplets roll down your clavicle as you shift from one foot to the other. Ajax swallows at the sight. At the sudden relief that washes over him like a flood.

“Sorry if I woke you, just felt a little, um, sticky.” you laugh again bashfully as you try to walk your way around the tall redhead in front of you but an arm shoots out to grasp the doorframe and effectively pins you in your place.

“You’re still here.” Ajax grins, moving closer to you until your back is pressed against the doorframe under his hand and he hovers over you. You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning in for a kiss, and then another, and another that leaves your hands scrabbling to his bare chest as he presses closer. You laugh into his mouth when his kisses turn playful, dotting themselves across your face and down your dewy neck that’s still warm from your shower.

“Of course I’m still here. I wouldn’t dream of leaving.” you huff when his hands pull the towel from your body and he looks at you like perhaps you’re his goddess now. Ajax kisses you again as his heart warms at your soft moans and your fervent touches…and he determines that with you, he can maybe become whole again.

reblogs and feedback very appreciated! ♡

[the-trailblaze-deactivated20250]

Genshin Men - Letting go of their hand prank

Genshin men x fem reader

Author notes: my sister and I did the genshin version of this! This has most of the men from the game :)

Albedo

Albedo would be slightly confused but just brush it off as normal human behavior. Klee had originally given you the idea and you decided to test it out one day you and Albedo were on Dragonspine conducting some research. You two were heading back to his lab setup and you let go of his hand and kept walking. He stopped where he was and tilted his head and asked you what was wrong. You explained that it was a prank Klee had told you about and he softly chuckled and continued walking.

“Humans are full of surprises aren’t they? How interesting they are, continue to be my muse won’t you?”

Alhaitham

Alhaitham does not care. It was getting hard to read his book since he can’t turn the page easily. He feels your eyes on him but thinks nothing of it and continues to read. You tell him you’re trying to prank him and he calls it stupid and a waste of time. He sees you get upset and scoot further away from him. He rolls his eyes before throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him.

“Here we can stay close while I read. Just no more dumb pranks.”

Ayato

Ayato feels guilty. He thinks you did it because he is more focused on talking to other important figures at this event than spending time with you. Once your hand slips from his, his heart breaks. He sees you with a sly smile and start giggling. You explain it’s a prank and he won’t let you one up him. The rest of the night he’s not holding your hand but holding you by the waist and keeping you so close.

“Ah since you started this game, I shall finish it.”

Baizhu

Baizhu would think there is something physically wrong with you. You two were standing and enjoying the sunset outside of the treatment room of Bubu Pharmacy. He felt your hand slip from his and his first thought was that you must be exhausted, but when he turns to you and he already sees you smiling up at him he knew that was not the case. He questions why you let you and but still asks if you’re feeling alright and you explain that it was a silly prank. He then brings the back of his hand to your forehead to make sure you’re alright.

“Ah I see, a prank then? Are you sure you’re feeling alright my dear? Let’s get you a cup of tea to make sure”.

Childe

Childe would treat it like a challenge. He was showing you around Morepesok and one minute he felt your hand and the next it was gone. He turns his head around calmly since he still felt your presence by him and once he looked at you his face broke out into a big grin. He just had to one up you now, because clearly you let go for the fun of it right? He stopped walking and ran behind you to hug you from behind and whisper in your ear.

“Oh darling, you think that was funny huh? I can one up you for eternity so let’s not do that again alright?”

Cyno

Cyno doesn’t let you let go for long. He’s eagerly picking you up from work to bring you back home so he can show you his new deck he made. You can see nothing is stopping him so you decide to do the prank now. Your hand is out of his for .0001 seconds before he finds your hand without looking and keeps on walking. He tells you not to let go because this deck is insane and nothing will stop him from showing it to you.

“Now is not the time for letting go of my hand. We have important matters to take care of.”

Diluc

Diluc feels bad then doesn’t. He has a lot to do today and you begged to tag along. So he’s been dragging you all around the city. While you two are walking to Angel’s Share he doesn’t feel your hand anymore. He thinks that the grip got loose while you two were walking around the busy city circle. He gets nervous and looks around and sees you a little bit behind. He makes a beeline for you, once he gets to you he sees you laughing then tell him it’s a prank. He just rolls his eyes and walks away.

“Why am I not surprised? I’ll meet you at Angel’s Share.”

Heizou

Heizou would smirk and just hug you. You two were walking back from the Tenryou Commission headquarters and you thought it would be fun to prank him after work. You gently let go of his hand and he turns to face you. He tilts his head and smirks at you before grabbing your hand and pulling you into a hug. He softly asks what that was about and you tell him it was a prank.

“Haha, I see a prank was it? You see my darling, I never wish to part from you so I’ll just have to give you a reason to never let go”.

Ifa

Ifa is upset but understanding. He thinks you let go because his hands are really roughed up after a long day at work. He gets why holds his non smooth hands that probably smell wouldn’t be the nicest thing. Once you explain that it was a prank and you love how his hands feel, he’s on cloud nine. He won’t admit it hurt at first thinking you could think badly about them but he gets all excited with knowing you love the rough feeling.

“You scared me there for a second. I may hold a lot of claws but the feeling of your hands in mine is the best.”

Itto

Itto would be offended. He’d act like you killed his family, the Arataki Gang, his beetles, and put beans in his food. He was enjoying your walk along the coast to try and find more beetles than you had to ruin it by letting go of his hand. He gets on his hands and knees then begs and prays for you to never do it again. You two are getting watched by other people on the coast and you beg him to get up because it was only a prank. He snaps up and grabs your hand again. He holds your hand insanely tight from now on.

“You can’t go be scaring me like that! I can’t handle pranks like this!”

Kaeya

Kaeya isn’t stopped by you letting go his hand. You two are enjoying a nature stroll when you just drop his hand and look away. He feels your warmth gone so he sees what got your attention. When he sees you avoiding eye contact he smirks knowing you’re trying to mess with him. He quickly picks you up bridal style and keeps walking. You ask him what he’s doing while trying to push his chest and get out of his hold. He tightens his hold on you and laughs.

“Well if your hand got tired certainly your feet must have gotten tired. Let me be your knight in shining armor and carry you the rest of the way.”

Kaveh

Kaveh is having the biggest crisis in his life. You always love holding hands and he always makes sure to do it when you two are together. But now you let go?? Why? What did he do? He thinks of everything bad he’s ever done in his life to lead him to this moment. He prepares for the worst but he’ll take it if it means he can apologize and hold your hand again. You see him one step from a mental break and just tell him it’s a prank. He instantly calms and claims he knew it was one all along.

“Of course I knew it was a prank. No I was not about to have another mental breakdown in the market!”

Kazuha

Kazuha thinks it’s funny. You two are always on the move. So you two always try to keep things interesting to make sure you two don’t get bored. Once you let go of his hand and act like nothing happened he laughs instantly knowing it’s a prank. He uses the wind to guide yours back into his hand and acts like it never happened.

“That was a good one but I prefer to keep a tight hold on you.”

Kinich

Kinich would give you a drop dead look but Ajaw would find it absolutely hilarious. You two were walking around the Scions of the Canopy and he felt your hand fall out of his. He turns to face you and tilts his head towards question you. Before you can explain Ajaw makes his presence known with his opinion. “Haha Kinich, no one wants to hold your hand how embarrassing.” Kinich slowly turns his head before replying, “at least someone wants to be with me, unlike a certain someone I know”. You giggle before explaining it was a prank to him and he gives you the most deadpan, drop dead look before signing and grabbing your hand again.

“Try not to let go again, yeah? Rather not give that creature something to gloat about”.

Lyney

Lyney finds it most amusing. He’d feel your hand slip out of his and first snaps his head back to make sure nothing happened to you. But he’d find that you were still there and going about your business as normal. He’d smirk and tilt his head before dramatically sighing and gets ready to make a show out of this, he does have a flair for the dramatic after all. He stops walking to turn around and gets on one knee in front of you and grabs your hand and places a light kiss on your knuckles.

“What’s this my dear, did you forget how to hold my hand so easily? Guess I’ll have to teach you how to always hold on to me, because I never wish to lose you”

Neuvillette

Neuvillette doesn’t understand the prank at all. He thinks he accidentally let go of your hand and feels terrible. You try and to explain you were the one that broke the hand holding but he is confident that it was him. He keeps saying he was distracted and wasn’t paying attention to who he really needed to focus on. So he holds your hand tightly and gives you his undivided attention until you two get where you’re going.

“No I am sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. You have my full attention now I swear.”

Ororon

Ororon is upset and he shows it. He’s excitedly showing you his garden and pointing at every little thing. When you think he’s not paying attention you slip your hand out of his and keep listening to him. He knows instantly and snaps his head to look at you. He questions if you’re breaking up with him. You explain how it’s just a silly prank and you’re not. He huddles with his vegetables and even tries to say he’s going to call Ifa and Cacucu for a group therapy session. You talk him out of it to save Ifa the trouble.

“My cabbages do you think she’s going to break up with me? She let go of my hand… what could that mean?”

Sethos

Sethos shrugs it off and apologizes. You two are walking around the desert and his hand is probably sweaty which is making holding hands kinda gross. He apologizes and wipes his hand off on his pants to try and get all the sweat off then reaches it back out to you. You tell him you let to because it’s a prank and he’ll retract his hand and smirk. Now he is revoking hand holding privileges.

“Oh okay! No more handing holding for us todayyyy.”

Thoma

Thoma would be so confused he’d just hug you. You two were in Komore Teahouse enjoying some time off and you two always would hold hands during times like this so you thought it would be fun to see how he’d react if you let go. You two were sitting next to each other and you slip your hand out of his and put it in your lap calmly. He whips his head towards you and looks alarmed that you let go. He turns to face you and he frowns slightly, he thought about what he could’ve done and just decided to hug you to make you feel better. You softly explain that it was a prank before reciprocating the hug.

“Oh I see, just a prank huh? Gave me a scare there sweetheart, try not to let go again yeah? I don’t think my heart could take it”.

Tighnari

Tighnari would give you such a deadpan expression. You two were in the forest looking for different kinds of mushrooms for his research and he was teaching you about each plant. You decided to let go of his hand to see how he’d react. Once he no longer felt your hand but felt his tail still softly brush against you he slowly turned his head towards you with the most confused expression on his face. You explain that it was a prank and at that he gives you the most deadpan expression ever.

“Are you being serious? I’m trying to teach you about dangerous plants and this is how you repay me? How rude, try not to let go again would you?”

Venti

Venti would find it hilarious. Once he feels your hand leave his he curiously looks your way for an explanation. He is then left with you trying not to look him in the eyes and that’s when he knows it’s a joke. He grabs your hand softly before giggling and pulling you to his chest. He leans towards your ear and whispers softly then turns around and drags you along.

“A little prank I see? How fun, just know that the wind may bring freedom but it will always bring you back to me.”

Wanderer

Wanderer doesn’t even flinch or care. He still is getting use to the whole handing holding and public displays of affection anyways. He is kinda relieved when you let go because he doesn’t have to keep pushing himself outside his comfort zone. But as soon as you say it’s a prank, expect to lose hand holding privileges for a while. He doesn’t fold or comply with your begging and pleas, he uses this as a teaching moment.

“Don’t do stupid things if you don’t want stupid things to happen.”

Wriothesley

Wriothesley senses it before you even do it. He sees you keep looking down at your connected hands then up at his face a couple of times. He raises his eyebrow at the act but he ultimately assumes you’re going to try something. Before you can let go he tightens his grip and drags you along. He ends up just teasing you in the end. But deep down he doesn’t want you letting go at all because it helps him have a clear mind and that the inmates know not to try anything with you.

“Did you forget I’m great at reading body language? But don’t go hurting my feelings now and letting go of my hand.”

Xiao

Xiao would be so confused and would look upset, breaking his normal stoic persona. You two were enjoying your evening on the roof of Wangshu Inn when you let go of his hand to see his reaction. He snaps his head towards you because his immediate reaction would be that you’re in danger. When he sees that you are still sitting there and softly smirking at him, that’s when his eyes harden and he looks away. You softly explain that you had seen some mortals do that recently and wanted to see how he would react. He would whisper gently after your explanation.

“Mortals are not good beings to learn from. Do not let go again, I want to always protect you.”

Zhongli

Zhongli thinks nothing of it at first. He simply thinks you are going to go look at something or just wanted a break from holding hands. When he goes on not reacting you ask him if he cares and he just simply says no and he does what you’re comfortable with. You then explain it’s a prank and he’s confused but just goes with it.

“I see. I don’t understand this prank but if you want to hold hands again we can.”

[rivangel]

Hey Gee! Congrats on 1k! Im so happy whenever I see you on my dash 💛. For the 1k event, Im feeling of Kitty Levi (domestic?) hurt/comfort: "I'm not leaving you, [name]." Bc i cant help but hc kitty levi with abandonment issues 🥲 hope you have a good year ahead! 💛

(੭ु ›ω‹ )੭ु⁾⁾♡

omg thank you🥺i loved writing this one it's very appreciated💞sending love

content/warnings: insecure Levi, implied past abuse, domestic, hybrids+heat (kind of) (kitty levi), hurt/comfort, hyper-vigilance, some angst

wc: ~1.4k

Light from the TV casts light through the dark of the living room and across your and Levi’s faces.

His eyes are on the screen, but the screen might as well be dark, and he might as well be alone. His ears idle, twitching lazily.

It’s been one year, almost, since you’ve shared your home with him… but maybe half that since he warmed up to the idea of someone caring about him without—conditions. Someone who wants him not for a fetish, or a pet, just...

You giggle at something on the screen and he blinks out of his stupor, eyes darting around to make sense of whatever just happened.

Usually, he wouldn’t care so much.

“Levi, Do you wanna put on something different?”

“Why?”

You turn sheepish. “It doesn’t seem like you’re… having fun.”

“No,” he replies, a little too fast. “I am. Having fun.”

His stomach drops when you pause it, then push your blanket off.

For some time he’s reverted into isolating his personal space. It’s not like he is the most affectionate of his kind (he learned not to be, because owners never shared Levi’s more innocent intentions), but the distance, despite how much he craves it, is safe. He has disciplined himself to not need to rub up against you, and to not be tricked into feeling protected when you say what you say and do what you do.

“Are you okay?” A warm palm comes up and settles on his cheek, but he turns away, fluffed ears flattening.

This is bad. You got onto him a little this morning because he had been cleaning so damn much that his hands were starting to turn red, and blister. Now he is worse, acting out again.

He knows you’re not cruel, never, and he knows you know him well enough to tell when he’s stressed, but not what about. When will you hit your breaking point?

Then you reach up and pet down his low ears, and it instantly calms him so that he flinches away. His tail bristles.

“Going to bed.” Levi forces the words out and shoots up before you can say anything else.

You share a bed, but there is a guest bedroom he used to use, and has gotten into the habit of using again since he realized what day was coming up. On the first night, you peeked in and asked if he was alright, and Levi said fine, he was alright. He was fine.

He gets it, that he is neglecting giving you the attention you always give him. At least half of the reason he has been working so hard around the house is to compensate for that.

(His kind aren’t allowed… jobs, in the conventional sense, and you work hard.)

Under the duvet, his cheek pressed to a cool pillow, he curls up and feels the darkness eat at him. He doesn’t feel like anything more than a bad emotion. He has been bad, by all accounts. Bad and bad and bad.

A solid knock on the door at some point in this strange stream of time jolts him even though he wasn't sleeping.

Light from the hall darkens your visage when you peek in. “You didn’t have any dinner, want me to make you something?”

His chest twists violently, and so he rolls over to face the wall. His mouth feels like a desert.

“Not hungry,” he replies. He isn't.

“Okay.” It sounds like you're letting him down gently. “See you in the morning, baby.”

“…’night.”

The next morning, Levi wakes up early to the heat pelting off his skin, suffocated by the blankets.

With a raspy grunt he kicks them off, rolls onto his belly, and shoves his face in the rumpled pillow. He rubs his cheek into it madly, at random, for something, but in his fog he only smells detergent and faint traces of his own shampoo. A keening noise vibrates his throat.

He shoves himself up into a sit, and nudges his legs together. A grimace twists his expression.

His heat isn’t here, not quite yet, but he feels the haze in the outskirts of his mind, that faint buzzing creeping down his limbs.

Where are you? part of him whines, then remembers.

Cursing, standing, Levi manages somehow to fly through his morning routine and bolt downstairs. At this time, you won’t be awake yet, so he can make breakfast before his heat starts, and then lock himself away in the guest bedroom, or even better, a closet.

He has faced all his heats up until a year ago alone, or as alone as he could get. One more wont kill him, but it will be fucking agony.

Morning light glides over his hands as he starts up coffee for you, and then pulls out the kettle for his tea. That (so soon) is when his limbs grow languid and heavy, and he has to stop at the counter to brace himself.

A pinched sense of longing sits in his chest. He closes his eyes.

The soft, even steps descending the stairs doesn’t register until it is too late, and there you stand in the doorway, watching him with a troubled look that tugs your lips down.

His shoulders hunch. “Go away.”

You say his name full of tenderness. All you offer him is that care.

He’s already weak, weak for you, when you approach and your arms come up around his waist from behind. It is like being swallowed. What does he do?—How does he escape?

Your head drops on his shoulderblade, massaging the other side in soft motions, and he melts with a swallowed mewl. Heat is so fucking close he can taste it.

You notice. “Do you really want me to go away?”

He swallows hard. By your calf, his tail twitches, even though his ears lay flat. You take that as an answer.

“Why’re you pulling away so much, hm?” You sway gently. “You know… the bed’s been cold without you; I miss you. Tell me what I'm doing wrong, and I’d do better for you. I want you to be comfortable.”

He shifts, almost squirming. My bed has been cold, he wants to say. Make me stop.

“You haven’t been keeping track,” he manages.

“Keeping track...?”

His jaw moves helplessly as your hand follows down his spine, and massages the small of his back. He’s craving, but he doesn’t know what. An inevitable tell for his heat incoming.

What if you’re bluffing? he can't help but think, despite himself. What if the paperwork just hasn’t arrived yet, and you forgot?

His ears lay flat and firm, like downturned airplane wings. “A year. Since you’ve had me. Did you really not know that’s when you can get rid of me for free?"

The adoption program, it allows a certain trial period around the first year mark. Before that, and after, you would have to pay to get rid of him.

In the past, his owners didn’t wait that long, but you aren’t that wealthy, which he liked about you from the start. That is also what makes this terrifying.

The air is eerily still for too long. He pants and squirms harder, caught between the urge to escape and fall right into you. Are you shocked?—Or caught in the deceit?

“If you're sick of me—”

“Levi—”

“—just say that.”

“Levi.”

That tone. He freezes.

You sigh. Instead of letting him go, you squeeze him to your front and kiss his hairline, then his cheek. “What in the world made you think I was sick of you?”

His jaw locks and jams, teeth grinding from the fear-feeling up high in his chest. It’s hard to think.

“Didn’t,” he whispers.

He is so afraid, because he has never been wanted for this long. Being kissed at breakfast and indulged by buying teas, and being allowed to hold and be held after fucking.

But it has never felt that way with you, either. You make it so scary in a way he can’t get enough of.

You kiss his hair and ask, “Why’re you so afraid?”

He finds himself rendered mute, like his tongue has gone too swollen for him to say a single word. Mind blank.

He whines instead, rubbing back against you; his heat is almost on top of him now.

“Poor baby… I’m not leaving you, Levi. That's the last thing I want.”

“I…” He leans into the warm kisses pelting his neck. “What’s the first thing?”

“Your heat’s about to start,” you say into his jaw, warm fingers prodding up underneath his sweater. “What do you think?”

“Please—make me stop, just.”

“Then c’mere.” You pull on him. “Come with me.”

Enter the event here!

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[takami-takami]

Nightmares.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. angst. hurt/comfort.

warnings— ptsd. trauma. self harm. nightmares. touch starved!keigo. be careful and know your limits!

Keigo feels the drop in his stomach first before anything else.

His bloodshot eyes snap open, lungs gulping in air as he sits up and grasps at the sheets below.

It doesn't matter that the room is pitch black. All he sees, clouding his field of vision, is red.

Red, when he attempts to blink it away. Red, when they're opened wide. Red, even through the bubbles of tears that he claws away with his nails. Red, when he stares at his filthy palms.

Unclean.

He asks himself if he could scrape it away if he tried hard enough, could expose the fresh cells underneath– the newly formed skin that has never been touched by the sins their owner has committed. New, like the skin of a child untainted by the corruption of those who were supposed to protect them.

He flinches when he feels the drape of his feathers surrounding him. Distantly, somewhere far outside his body, he wonders if they were always this scarlet color. Was he born with white wings? Did something make them this way? Did something make them the perfect shade for concealing bloodshed?

Did someone?

The waves of panic, the ones that shake his system to its core, bubble to the surface of his throat. They taste like disgust, like shame.

Don't let the guilt control you, Hawks, they say. Don't even let the thought pass through your mind. There's no reason to be upset... This is for the greater good. This is for your own good.

That's what they always told him.

His breathing comes quicker, deeper; but no matter how wide his chest expands, he still drowns. He needs to get out of here, needs to escape, there has to be an escape route, there has to be if he can just—

"Baby?"

The room illuminates with the click of a switch. His eyes, golden color swallowing shrunken pupils, glance behind him. Your face is illuminated by the dull, amber glow of the lamp by your bedside.

You look worried. Are you okay? He should ask you if you're okay.

He blinks, eyes focused directly on you. His body feels inhuman, hunched over and trembling with his hands still cupped below him. Stiff.

When he feels the bed creak beneath him, the velvet expanse of the comforter creasing with your movement towards him, he remains still. You offer the soft touch of your palm against his, interlacing his fingers with yours, silently asking permission. He squeezes back.

Your skin is pristine. Don't you know if you do that, you'll get them dirty?

You bring his hands to your lips anyway, kiss each pad of his fingertips tenderly before you begin to speak.

"Dreams again?"

He lets out a shaky breath in response, dropping his shoulders. He hasn't stopped staring at you for a second.

"Yeah, I-I," Keigo stutters, the adreneline beginning to dissipate from his veins, but still there. "Yeah, I guess so."

You hum. "Do you need some water? C'mon, sit up, I've got you. You're okay. I'll get you some water—"

You barely get the chance to move an inch before his hand shoots out and grips your arm, tightly at first before it frightens him that he'd be so quick to reach out. That his touch would be so rough.

"No! Please, don't stop," he all but begs, voice entirely too loud for his own ears. He wishes you were talking instead. Your voice is soothing, your voice is whole. "Stay. You... Can you just hold me? I didn't want to, I had to, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry—"

You know you're not the only one he's apologizing to. You accept it anyway, with a soft kiss that melts him to the core. "It's okay. I trust you." You tuck his hair behind his ears, to which he responds by leaning into the grounding touch. "You're doing your best. You're a good person."

It's difficult for Keigo to allow himself this, but you make giving in to the comfort too tempting. He buries himself into your chest, melts into the scratch of your fingers on his scalp.

Just stay like this. Just a little while longer, he thinks. Until I can feel like a person again.

[reidingandwriting]

domestic > keigo takami/hawks (mha)

Word Count: 3.6k

Ship: Keigo/Hawks x Reader

Warnings: Corrupt hero commission (we hate the hero commission on this blog), keigo overworks himself, keigo & reader fight, miscommunication, some cursing, keigo’s a little shit (he has his reasons okay), mentions of a rescue mission and the aftermath, hurt/comfort

A/N: So sorry this fic is so delayed 😭 Have been going Through It lately but I’ve got a few fics queued up to make up for my absence ❤️ This is my favorite Keigo fic so far

“pro hero hawks is the first on the scene!”

“pro hero hawks took down the villain that’s injured dozens, including some pro heroes!”

“another takedown by pro hero hawks.”

“hawks is finally on the scene, this should be over soon.”

-

keigo wasn’t answering his phone. which was expected for the first night. he had just come home from a week long mission and on his flight home, another issue came up that he had to answer to. he didn’t get home until midnight, having refused any other hero’s offer to relieve him once his shift had technically ended, until best jeanist all but escorted him off the scene. you had hoped keigo had been resting when you walked into your office the next morning, until you looked at the news and saw he was already back out on patrols.

when you walked into keigo’s office, you expected to see a mountain of paperwork on his desk. you were fully prepared to work all day to catch him up, hoping to surprise him by finishing all his work for him. you were the one surprised when you saw only one paper on his desk, a note for you.

‘gonna be working late tonight, don’t wait up for me’

you scowled as you read the note, even if you had to fight the urge to melt when you saw the little bird doodle keigo had signed the note with. you once again called keigo, this time his work number, and you resisted the urge to throw your phone at the wall when your call once again went unanswered. you pulled up your text conversation with keigo and began to type.

‘you’re going home tonight. i will be outside at eight and you will let me in. i am not kidding when i tell you i’ll wait all night. please, just let me know you’re okay.’

you knew the text would go unanswered, but you hoped. you hoped that he would read it, at the least. that he would talk to you. your phone buzzed and you quickly picked it up, and you sighed when it was just another text from rumi.

‘i’ve seen him pass by once or twice, but he doesn’t stop. i’ve got a few others looking out for him, i’ll let you know if i hear anything’

you set your phone down with a sigh as you sat back in the office chair. this was going to be a long night.

you texted keigo a warning before you entered his apartment. you had been given a key by keigo to use in case of emergencies, and your chatty birdbrain suddenly ghosting you is an emergency in your eyes. it was two AM when you entered, and you felt your eyes begin to sting when you realized keigo wasn’t home. a quick search on the hero network showed that he was last seen a little after ten, and none of your own security alerts had gone off at your apartment. he was at his agency, avoiding you. it stung, the avoidance settling heavy in your chest, weighing you down as if there was a physical weight on your body.

you texted a quick update to rumi before you left keigo’s, and you made the walk back to your own apartment. keigo would definitely have lectured you any other time if he knew you walked home alone, and a selfish part of you hoped he’d find out. you’d take the scolding if it meant he would talk to you.

you flinched as you heard a voice speak from beside you.

“surprised he let you walk home alone at this hour,” you relaxed once you recognized the drawl of eraserhead’s voice. “your guard bird working tonight?”

“you’re going to sneak up on me at the wrong time one day and you’re going to get your shit rocked,” you replied, no real heat to your words.

“i’ll take my chances.” a hint of a smirk graced his face before it relaxed into his usual stoic expression.

“but no, he’s not working tonight.” you paused. “not patrolling at least. he is working hard at avoiding me, though.” while you and eraserhead, aizawa, had only met a few times, you had established a friendly relationship with the underground hero. you had also developed a friendship with present mic, which seemed to influence eraserhead’s opinion of you. odd.

“that’s… different.” eraserhead says after a moment. “i’ll keep an eye out for him, and i’ll have hiz- present mic look out for him as well.”

the two of you continued to talk as he escorted you to your apartment. minutes later, you opened the door to your apartment and let the door shut with a soft click, and you barely made it to the couch before you fell asleep.

-

“ooh, rough night?” one of the tech interns, kazuki, teases as he watches you walk in.

“hilarious.” you scowled. you knew you looked tired; you woke up frequently throughout the night, unable to sleep for more than half an hour at a time. you gave up on sleep around five thirty this morning, and you clutched to the thermos of coffee in your hands like it was the only thing keeping you alive. “didn’t really sleep much last night.”

“hawks working you too hard? i saw him walking around a few minutes ago. looks like he was headed to his office,” your heart stopped at those words. was he actually here?

“thank you, kazuki!” you called as you sprinted for the elevator, reminding yourself to send kazuki a proper thank you later. when you burst into keigo’s office, you jumped back as a sharpened red feather flew at you, stopping mere centimeters away from your neck.

“shit, you scared me.” keigo smiled when he recognized you, and the sight of it filled you with anger. “oh, sorry. let me just.” keigo’s feather returned to its natural state and you swatted it away as it went to caress your cheek, not in the mood for his usually sweet antics. “songbird? you okay?”

and you couldn’t help but laugh. full body, doubled over laughs. keigo tilted his head, confusion flashing across his face as you continued to laugh. your name left keigo’s lips, and you recognized the slight movements he was making. he was twitchy, like he wanted to move but he couldn’t decide which move was the best. you could practically hear the wheels in his head turning and you looked up at the ceiling as you felt the familiar sting of unshed tears in your eyes.

“you son of a bitch,” you whispered. you looked at him and his form became blurry, the tears now sliding down your cheeks. “you, you have me worried for days. you ignored my calls and texts, i even had other heroes looking out for you!” you started to walk towards him and you stopped just out of his reach. “you went to the point of staying here to avoid seeing me. why?” you finally met his gaze and golden eyes were filled with an emotion you didn’t recognize. his gaze was cold, distant. yet still, he kept the smile on his face, the smile he plastered on for annoying news reporters.

“i’ve been busy.”

“you’re running yourself ragged! you’re going to get hurt or cause someone else to get hurt because you’re working yourself to death.” you reached out and jabbed him in the chest.

“you don’t understand. you never will, so why are you even trying to? i can’t answer every call and text from my assistant.”

“that’s all i am to you? your assistant?” you asked. you were met with silence and you felt your heart begin to break. “look me in the eyes and tell me that’s all i am to you. and i promise, from now on, that’s all you’ll get from me.”

“what else would you be?”

wordlessly, you dug your key ring from your jacket pocket. you pulled off the key that belonged to keigo’s, to hawks’s, apartment and you set it down on his desk.

“noted. since you’ve clearly got a handle on things, i think i’ll be taking the next two days off for some personal days. i’ll be back on monday, hawks.” the name felt foreign on your lips and his wings twitched in response. you wordlessly spun on your heel and slammed hawks’s office door shut behind you. you could feel the stares from everyone in kei- hawks’s agency watching you, and you briefly shook your head when you saw kazuki before rushing out of the building, straight into the rain that had suddenly started to downpour. because of course it did.

as you walked in the rain to the bus stop, you ignored the frequent buzzing that came from your pocket.

“what else would you be?” echoed through your head, and you couldn’t believe that came from kei- his lips. what happened during his last mission? you shook your head to clear your thoughts.

“just an assistant,” you muttered under your breath. “what the hell, birdie?”

-

it was the middle of the night and you were sitting on your couch, eating from a carton of ice cream as you flipped through the channels on TV. you had finished your second movie of the night when you stumbled across the news. you paused when you saw hawks’s name flash across the bottom of the screen and you wanted to change the channel. but you couldn’t.

“eight hours later, the search and rescue has been completed. over 200 victims were rescued from the destruction thanks to the effort of our number two hero. thank you to pro hero hawks for being the first hero to respond, and the last to leave the tragic scene of the collapsed apartment complex.”

the reporter continued to talk about the injuries and the casualties, and you scanned the screen for him, not seeing a glimpse of red anywhere, save for some discarded feathers on the ground. you pulled out your phone immediately and searched online for something, anything about your- kei- hawks. your messages were full of texts from rumi and kazuki. a few from present mic, even a text from best jeanist’s assistant with a message from the pro.

suddenly, there was a knock on the door and you jumped off the couch. you glanced at the time, a little after midnight. you had hopes for who it was. you also didn’t know what you’d do if it was him. you slowly walked to the front door, willing your heart rate to calm down, and you reached forward to open the door.

you gasped at the sight in front of you, your phone clattering to the floor but you paid it no attention. hawks stood at your door, covered in dirt and dust and… blood? his jacket was gone, pants torn and ripped to barely there shreds of fabric. his flight goggles and headphones were gone, hair caked in dirt and sweat and he looked like he was seconds from falling over. he looked small without his massive wings behind him, most of the feathers left at the scene.

“‘m sorry. i tried, tried to go home. you were closer and,” hawks gestured to himself. “kind of grounded. i’m sorry, i can go.” he swayed a bit. you dove forward as he stumbled, and you held him up as he leaned into you. you kicked the door shut and you repositioned yourself to better support the hero as you walked towards your bathroom. “what are you doin’?” his voice was hoarse, and you made note to grab him water, as well as a million other things once you got him settled.

“first, im gonna clean you up. get some water for you, heat up some leftovers, and get you in clean clothes before i put you in bed.”

“what? no- i. i was horrible. you can’t… you can’t be nice to me. not after everything i said.” hawks said and you shushed him.

“shh, you’re going to wreck your voice more. we’ll talk once you’re taken care of.” you walked into the bathroom and made quick work of setting up a shower. you started to step away to grab towels and you felt a hand grab your arm.

“don’t leave me. please,” he rasped and you turned to face him, your heart aching at the sight in front of you. your keigo.

“not going anywhere. just grabbing towels, yeah?” you walked with him to the hallway, and you grabbed your fluffiest towels. you then grabbed a caddy full of keigo’s favorite toiletries. his shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and oil for his wings. he was missing a lot of feathers, but you’d take care of what was left. he was hurt, your birdie was hurt. it was your turn to be the hero, to make sure he was okay.

when you returned to the bathroom a minute later, keigo’s tired eyes lit up at your return.

“let’s get you in the shower, yeah?“ you set the towels down, put his supplies in the shower, and turned on the shower to his preferred temperature. you then walked to him and placed a gentle hand on his shirt. you glanced up at him and when he nodded, you gently began to peel his uniform off him. you quickly scanned him as you removed more articles of clothing, taking note of any new injuries and were relieved to see relatively little. once keigo had been stripped, you stepped into the shower with him, ignoring the fact you still had your t-shirt and sleep shorts on. your only focus was keigo right now, and you guided him under the shower head.

keigo’s exhaustion had seemed to hit as he leaned against you, and you supported him as you let the water get the top layer of grime off him. “there we go,” you soothed as you shifted, reaching for his shampoo. “there’s my birdie,” a weak chirp left him and you smiled sympathetically. “think you can sit so i can wash your hair?”

wordlessly, keigo moved to kneel down and once he settled, you began to scrub his hair. your hands worked in his hair until they ached, getting everything from the collapsed building from his hair before you added the shampoo. you took your time sudsing up his hair, and you smiled when you brushed some baby feathers in his hairline that caused keigo to coo quietly. keigo pressed a kiss to your stomach as you worked and leaned into your touch, much like a cat being petted. you helped him stand back up once you were ready to wash his body, and keigo practically laid against the wall of the shower as you worked to clean him off efficiently but quickly.

what felt like ages later, you turned the shower off and wrapped keigo up in a towel. you used the other towel to pat your own clothes dry quickly before you started to towel dry his hair.

“why are you… being so nice to me?” keigo asked and you frowned.

“i’m always going to care about you, pretty bird. you were a dick earlier,” you admitted. “but like it or not, you’ve wormed your way into my heart. you deserve to be taken care of, kei. we both know you don’t do it enough for yourself.” you moved to stand behind keigo and you looked at him in the mirror. “is it okay if i touch them?” you glanced at his baby wings and back at him. you held the oil in your hand, letting him see what your intentions were and you panicked when you saw his eyes fill with tears.

-

keigo couldn’t believe it. he had been horrible to you. he had tried to be horrible, he had never planned to come back to you this way. but he did and you? you dumbfounded him with how you treated him. as if you had just had a little spat over him breaking your heart. he could feel your heartbeat change during the conversation you two had in his office, he could practically hear your heart breaking over his words. but when he came to you, bloody and dirty, wings practically gone, and you treated him so tenderly. so… lovingly. when the first tear slid down his cheek, a dam broke. keigo chirped in surprise as you spun him around before he threw himself into your arms. he sobbed as he clung to you, as if you’d vanish into nothingness if he let go.

your arms immediately tightened around him and you used one hand to stroke his wing, the other combed through his hair so gently, sad warbles left his throat. “whatever happened,” you started. “we’ll handle it. me and you, yeah?” keigo tried to respond but couldn’t force any words out, more chirps leaving him as he nodded against your neck. “that’s my songbird.” you held him until his sobs turned into soft cries, and the cries into the occasional sniffle. keigo’s wing twitched as he felt you began to pay more attention to the feathers, and his eyes began to well up with tears again as he realized. you were preening him.

you’ve straightened his feathers out before a handful of times, usually for shoots or press interviews. he’s never had this much attention paid to them before, never in such a caring way at least. his body became lax against you, pleased coos and quiet chirps leaving his throat every now and then.

once you had finished, you led keigo to your room. you walked to the drawer with keigo’s things and he watched as you pulled out clothes for him to sleep in. “gonna change out of my wet clothes real quick, okay?” he nodded and you smiled softly at him before walking to your own side of the dresser. the two of you got dressed in a comfortable silence and you guided him to the living room, where minutes later, you settled onto the couch with dinner. keigo stayed curled into your side and you seemed perfectly content as you stroked his hair.

what felt like an eternity later, keigo was finally able to speak again. “i tried to come home. when i got off that mission. it.. it went horrible and i just wanted you. but i fail- they had told me i failed. i wasn’t as efficient as i should be, one of the villains had managed to escape before i caught him again. if i was a proficient hero, he never would have gotten a chance to get away.” you looked up as keigo spoke, and keigo struggled to maintain eye contact with you. you always seemed to see him, and that was terrifying.

“so i was already beating myself up when they sent me to another disaster, to redeem myself,” he quoted and you scowled at the words. “and i did better, that’s what they told me. and for a minute, i didn’t feel like a failure anymore. i felt worthy of my hero title so i…”

“you stayed busy, worked harder and harder to get rid of that bad feeling.” you finished for him and keigo nodded.

“but no matter what i did, how many patrols i went on, how many hours late i worked, it wasn’t good enough. they said i’m letting personal things get in the way of me being a good hero, that i was a better hero alone.” keigo trailed off and you looked sad, yet angry at the same time.

“they were the reason for our fight.” you said and keigo hummed in response.

“still. i never should have said what i did,” keigo cupped your cheek and you leaned into the touch. “i need you to know. need you to know you’re so much more to me than an assistant. maybe i’m a worse hero for it, but i love you. i love you, so much.” keigo’s voice shook and you scooted closer to him.

“i love you too,” you whispered. you glanced at keigo’s lips then back up at him, golden gaze meeting your own. you leaned in and brushed your lips against his, and keigo let out a soft breath as he kissed you. he had kissed you countless times, but none had ever been this soft. this slow, this.. vulnerable. there was no rush, nothing you were aiming for. just the two of you intertwined, and keigo didn’t break the kiss until he was out of breath, and he smiled at the quiet whine you made. “i think,” you said after a minute. “you need a few days to recover. bed rest, doctor’s orders.”

“you’re a doctor now, hmm?” keigo smiled as he pressed lazy kisses down your jaw and you pulled a blanket over the two of you. “can’t argue with doctor’s orders.”

“bed rest is the first step in treatment. cuddles could speed up the healing process, as well.” you said matter-of-factly as you tangled your legs with his own. keigo closed his eyes as you buried your face into his chest, and as you rubbed his back, keigo’s thoughts became fuzzy.

“careful, will stay here forever.” you nuzzled closer and keigo vaguely remembered your reply before you fell asleep.

“i’d love nothing more.”

[thatlotuscookie]

Hey, could you write a Todoroki x fem reader where she helps him through a panic attack after a bad nightmare? Thank you so much! Also, I love your popstar reader x Bakugo

✧･ﾟ: a/n : i wanted to give Todoroki some love in this one. Nightmares, panic attacks, and vulnerability aren’t easy for him, but I love how his connection with the reader helps him heal. also, i'm so glad you like that one:) hats off to anon that requested that, very creative!! anyway, thanks so much for the request. enjoy<3

✧ Title: ✧ The Place Where I Belong ✧ ✧ Characters: Todoroki Shoto x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: Todoroki’s nightmares haunt him in the middle of the night, and only you can help him find peace. ✧ Content Warnings: Panic attack, mentions of childhood trauma, brief mention of Endeavor (father/abuse-related trauma). ✧ WC: 923 words // 5.1k chars

The night was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that hung in the air like a blanket, heavy and thick. It was a peaceful night—until it wasn’t.

You stirred in your sleep when you felt movement beside you. It wasn’t anything big at first, just a slight shift in the bed. But then, the quiet was broken by the sound of shaky breathing, uneven and shallow.

Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the darkness of the room, and when you turned to your side, your heart sank at the sight of Todoroki.

He was sitting up, his back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he couldn’t catch his breath. His face was pale, and there was a distant, panicked look in his eyes that made your stomach twist in concern.

"Todoroki?" you whispered softly, sitting up beside him, your hand gently reaching for his arm. His skin felt cold—so much colder than usual, and his body was trembling beneath your touch.

He didn’t respond right away, his breaths coming out in short, uneven gasps. His hand gripped the blanket tightly, his knuckles white from the force of it.

"Todoroki," you called his name again, your voice more urgent this time as you shifted closer. "Hey, it’s okay. I’m here."

That seemed to pull him out of whatever nightmare had him in its grip. His mismatched eyes flickered over to you, but the panic in them hadn’t faded.

"I… I can’t…" he rasped, his voice breaking as his hand came up to press against his chest, as if trying to ground himself. "I… can’t breathe."

You could see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes, though he was doing everything in his power to hold them back. Todoroki hated showing his vulnerable side, hated admitting when things were too much for him. But you knew how deeply the trauma from his past still haunted him—especially in moments like this.

Without a word, you gently cupped his face in your hands, guiding his gaze to yours. “Look at me,” you whispered, your thumbs brushing softly against his cold skin. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I need you to breathe with me, okay?”

His eyes were wide, still clouded with fear, but he nodded slightly, struggling to focus on your voice.

"Take a deep breath," you instructed, keeping your voice as calm and soothing as possible. "In through your nose… nice and slow. Just focus on my voice."

He hesitated at first, his breath hitching as he tried to follow your lead, but you didn’t let go. You kept your hands on his face, your thumb tracing soothing patterns along his cheekbones as you guided him through each slow, deep breath.

"That’s it… you’re doing great," you whispered softly, your heart aching at the sight of him so shaken. "Now out through your mouth… slow and steady."

It took a few more tries, but eventually, his breathing began to even out. The trembling in his body lessened, and the wild panic in his eyes started to fade. His grip on the blanket loosened as he slowly came back to himself, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once his breathing had returned to a more normal rhythm, you gently pulled him into your arms, holding him close against your chest. His body was still tense, but he didn’t resist, allowing himself to lean into your warmth as if seeking comfort in your presence.

“I’m sorry,” Todoroki whispered after a long moment, his voice muffled against your shirt. “I didn’t mean to… wake you.”

You shook your head, your hand coming up to stroke his hair gently. “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He hesitated, his arms wrapping around you tightly, as if he was afraid that letting go would somehow make everything worse. “It was the same nightmare,” he muttered softly, his voice laced with shame. “About… him.”

You didn’t need to ask to know who he meant. His father—Endeavor. The source of so much of his pain.

Your heart ached for him, knowing how deeply the trauma of his childhood still affected him, even after all these years. But you didn’t push him to talk about it. You just held him tighter, your fingers continuing to gently comb through his hair.

“You’re safe now,” you murmured against his temple, pressing a soft kiss to his head. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

Todoroki’s grip on you tightened for a moment before he let out a shaky sigh, his body finally relaxing fully in your embrace. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin as he breathed you in, grounding himself in the safety of your presence.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with love for him. “You deserve so much more than you think, Todoroki.”

For a long while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other as the world outside faded into the background. Eventually, his breathing became slow and steady again, and you could feel the tension melting away from his body as sleep began to claim him once more.

But even as he drifted off, his arms remained securely around you, as if holding on to the one thing that made him feel safe in the midst of his darkest moments.

And you held him just as tightly, promising silently that you’d always be there for him—no matter what nightmares might come.

[rosenongrata]

Immortalize

⋯☆ Summary: When Zhongli seemingly doesn't reciprocate your romantic feelings, you know that push has come to shove.

⋯☆ A/N: hey this fic almost made me cry lol. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

⋯☆ AO3 Link.

⋯☆ W.C: 2.1k

⋯☆ CW: Angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort. (tell me if I should add anything else!)

“I love you, Zhongli.”

You two have long since been friends—for years. He couldn't ask for a better mortal as a friend, he's known this for quite some time now. He's confided in you about many of his struggles, although most only scratched the surface of his iceberg of memories.

His own insecurity and fears keep him locked away from confessing his true identity to you. He figures you don't need to know and never will need to. The last thing he'd ever want to place upon your shoulders is the burden of his long-winded history.

But…

You're already acutely aware of his former identity, aren't you? You have been for a while. Although you'd hate to call him out like that—it's a touchy subject, isn't it? That's what you concluded, at least. So, you never brought it up, for his sake. He has his reasons, you have yours.

And today wasn't much different from his perspective. That is up until you quite suddenly confessed to him over lunch at Wanmin Restaurant. His heart flutters before leaving behind an obtuse desire to shatter. But his eyes betray his feelings—he remains perfectly composed, or so he thinks.

In reality, he has the most distant expression on his face, his mouth agape by a sliver while his molten gold eyes turn into a thousand-yard stare. And that's his pure, unadulterated shock mixed with heartbreak written all over his face.

Even you can see through that calm and composed gaze—only to witness a single, tiny tear welling up in his left eye. You're not sure if he heard you or not—while you're somewhat positive that he did, you decide to check.

"I love you, Zhongli…" You echo softly as your smile threatens to snap into a broken frown.

And now all you can wonder is if he hates you for this.

"A-Ah, yes." He sputters out awkwardly, finally finding himself again and readjusting his facial posture. "I…" He trails off, that tear rising to the very precipice of his eye once again.

"Are you…alright? Should I leave?" You whisper, already backtracking.

"Y-Yes, I am quite well." He nods, clearing his throat, and he tells you what he convinces himself is the truth, "I…cannot reciprocate your feelings. I am sorry."

"It's okay… Are we still friends?" You inquire, a broken smile on your lips.

You half-expected that response, given his hidden identity. But, what came next is something you didn't think twice about, let alone once.

"Let me…think about it." He stands up sharply, his shoulders and back tense. And without another word, he leaves in a rush—to hide his oncoming tears and sniffles.

He didn't want to say it, but one can't have everything they want. Life is an unfair, cruel mistress.

…Just how long has it been since he last cried, he wonders when he gets home—rushing to sit on the cushioned sofa.

At some point, his memories harass him so harshly that he dozes off in an attempt to escape—slipping into an uncomfortable midday slumber. His brows furrow even in his sleep, his expression looking like he's about to cry a bit more.

He's never quite cried over a mortal before, especially one that is still alive. And he's never quite been in love, either. Yet this love in his heart screams and aches for you to stay with him as long as he allows it. He thought he could bury these feelings six feet deep, but they have their ways of crawling out to bite him where it hurts most.

He's sick of losing people, really. He's much more tired of it than he lets on. That much you've realized ever since piecing together his hidden distant past.

You figure it hurts him a lot to lose so much and still has to remember it all. And more often than not, you wonder how he manages to keep a cool head through all of it.

As you walk to his home to check up on him, you can only hope he's safe and sound. He's not the type to make rash decisions, but the moment he ran off back home has you more than a bit concerned.

When you arrive, you're thankful he didn't even take another moment to think about taking the spare key to his home back from you. Or else you'd be in a more than precarious position right now.

After tiptoeing into his abode, you immediately notice how he hastily threw his jacket to the floor. Even his loafers aren't neatly placed away in their shoe cubby like they usually are. You sigh a little, your heart heavy with worry. You must've really upset the poor man if he didn't even bother to stay peculiar about his habits.

Doing him a small favor, you dust off his coat and hang it on the rack next to his other similar outerwear. You even put his shoes away in their cubby underneath the coat rack. He needs less stress, you figure, you would hate for him to feel exasperated later because he made a mess.

Once out of your own shoes, you sneak throughout the house. It's not hard to find him, he's sprawled out on the sofa with his long limbs in every which way they can reach.

How long has he been asleep, exactly? Well, you shelve that thought away for now. You'd smile at his sleeping form if it weren't for the fact that his expression is so deeply furrowed and tight that he looks like he's going to sob at any moment. What could he be dreaming about, you wonder.

Glancing around, you find a spare blanket and pull it over him. His features and body immediately relax from the gentle, loving action. You never once think about holding back the tiny smile that paints your lips, a sigh of relief leaving you.

…You want to make him as happy as you can, after all. And what's a better way than to have him cozy, make him some silk flower tea, and then…leave for Celestia-knows-how -long?

Love can make someone do crazy things, you know.

—

It's been months since anyone last saw you.

Even if your family knew anything about your disappearance, they certainly didn't say anything about it. In Zhongli's eyes, it looks like a cover-up for something darker than he initially suspects.

He ends up imagining the worst.

Which does no good for his historic heart at all.

He's helpless to his own self-blame that riddles his mind and body. His body aches—his muscles taut. He even gets frequent headaches, with seemingly no end in sight to them. His appetite is much smaller than before, barely interested in his favorite dishes. Even his other friends notice how he's not as peculiar about everything as he was before. And he buries himself in his work at Wangsheng, taking up more jobs than Hu Tao thinks he should.

But there's no convincing him otherwise until he comes to terms with himself. He's always been like this—steady, but also stubborn as stone.

And today is no different—even with dark clouds pouring rain onto the harbor. He can feel his heart sink heavier than ever, the storm outside being no help to his poor state of mind. He yearns for your warm touch, something to bring him a semblance of comfort to his aching bones.

Yet he presses on with his paperwork. Hu Tao has hidden many pieces of his work from him without his knowledge, forcing him to give himself a break. That doesn’t stop him from finding something tasking to do, though.

…Such as taking the paperwork off of his coworker's hands (with their permission) and working on those instead. But, at some point, he becomes sluggish with a foggy mind—the fog is thick as mud. Even he starts feeling rather sleepy…

And the moment he begins to doze off, he feels the papers beneath his arms pulled out from under him. His head jerks up to see the culprit—only to see Hu Tao, his boss. He reaches out to the papers, only to have her move them away at the last second. She teases him by waving the stack of parchment in front of him.

"Ah-ah~, I think it's bedtime for a certain overworked consultant!" She coos, but he can see the worry in her slightly pinched eyes and tiny smile.

"B-Bedtime? It's the middle of the day, Director…" He retorts, attempting to regain his composure as if he hadn't been dozing off moments before.

"Then, I order thee to take a small nap!" She uses her spare hand to point at him. "I'll lock the office door behind me. Now, please rest. Give it a break, you old fart." She sighs softly, "I'll check on you in an hour~." She promises with a wink before leaving, paperwork in hand.

"Director—" He says, but it's already too late for him to get his case in.

After a few solid moments of listening to the clock on the wall tick-tock away and his instincts scream at him about staying productive, he moves away from his desk. A one-hour nap couldn't hurt, right? He can only hope.

With that smidge of reassurance in his mind, he lays down on the spare sofa in the corner of the lavish office. Sleep comes difficult—like usual—but it does happen after shifting around on the sofa and listening to his own silly worries for about 30 minutes.

He must love you a lot, you know that, right?

—

Later that evening, Zhongli trudges home even as the monsoon storm pushes past him, surely soaking him and his layered clothes. His mind is as cloudy as the sky; his body remains firm and steady as stone—as it always has.

Yet when he hears a familiar call of a loved one's voice, he snaps out of his daze and whips his head around to see the culprit. When he sees nothing out of the ordinary, he grumbles bitter nonsense under his breath. His bitterness only grows when he realizes he forgot his wallet at work (which also had his keys).

"Need a key?"

There's that familiar voice again. But when he turns around this time, it doesn't take a blind man to realize who it is. He feels his heart jump into his throat in response, cutting off his ability to breathe and speak.

It's you.

He can't believe his eyes—the other day he was almost certain you had died. Yet…here you are once again. So close to him and so real, along with the spare key that you hold up—its silver coat glittering amidst the heavy rain.

"Oh, Zhongli." You laugh, shaking your head—you find his dumbfounded expression beyond adorable, yet you decide to not tease him about it just yet.

You gently shift him to the side of the doorway so you can unlock it. Once opened, you push him inside before you two get any more soaked through. You kick the door shut behind you, releasing a loud sigh of relief.

"I…" He finally starts to say something, much to your joy, "Y-You're back." He sputters out as if everything has just fallen into place, "W-Where were you?!" He bemoans—he's never shouted before now, but you don't blame him in this instance. This one's on you.

"I… Let's get dry first, okay? I'll tell you later—"

"No, right now. Tell me now." He grabs your shoulders firmly, desperation clear in golden eyes as a cloudless day.

Your eyes pop wide open out of surprise, and then you smile and giggle a little, "I…went looking about how to become immortal."

"You what?" He growls. "Why would you—"

"Because…we love each other," You now rest your wet hands over his own, your grasp soft as a baby's skin, "Neither of us wants to leave the other. So, I'll make sure that happens." You sigh a little, "Zhongli… I know who you are—or were—so let me…let me love you fully and truly."

He whispers your name, head drooping as tears threaten to spill over. No mortal has ever promised to dedicate themselves to him with so much earnestness before. Especially not one that loves him for him and not his status.

"Zhongli—?"

"I love you, I love you." He pulls you into a soaked, shivering hug, "I love you so… I will never betray you. Please, stay with me. Don't disappear like that again, my darling."

"…Of course, Zhongli. I'll stay. Forever and always."

And into his arms, you will stay. Forever and always.

[f4ringu]

Comfort one can bring

Ft . Childe, Xiao & Venti

Cw : Hurt/Comfort, night terror, a bit different on xiao's part

Summary : Sometimes getting a good sleep at night is hard, as your own lover clings onto you like you could disappear any minute, as he hugs you tightly while a drop of tear fell off his cheeks.

A/N : first thing uploaded yay.

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-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

Night terror isn't a uncommon occurence in your day, sometimes you woke up drenched in sweat and your heart beats so fast you couldn't focus on anything, You doesn't even realize that a tear would fall down your cheeks at any moment.

even so, there would always be someone that will always be there for you. Your lover who would wake up from his sleep, embrace you on his arm and tells you reassuring word, while sometimes you'd sobbed on his arm.

But.. this time is different, your lover woke up searching for your presence whilst you were not there.

—–—–—–—–—–—–

Ajax/childe

– Nightmare isn't an abnormal occurence in your little household, to your days on dating Ajax nightmare always follows him on his dream somehow, but usually the one who had a nightmare is you, you've rarely seen Ajax had a nightmare on his dreams

‐ You're that type of person who always woke up in a middle of the night to get some snacks either it was tea or just a light snack. Mostly when you woke up your boyfriend is either snoring himself or rather just sleeping peacfully beside you.

– But this time was different, as usual you were having your usual late night snack, sometimes it can go 2-4 times per week, when you got out of your bed you failed to notice how your boyfriend is thrashing around on his sleep. Maybe its because of the darkness of the room or maybe you were just to sleepy to notice it

– As you were stirring yourself a cup of tea you noticed a faint footstep directing to you, you wonder to yourself did i wake him up again? But again you paid no mind until the voice of your own lover started calling you.

– (Name)? Are you there your own lover called you out, hearing how his tone were laced in fear you stopped whatever you're doing and rushes over to him.

"Ajax! Whats wrong?" you walked yourself to him standing on the hallways of your bedroom, seeing the concerned and pale face of his you began to wonder, did he have a nightmare again?

"I.. i though i.." he choked a sob, "I thought i lost you, where were you?.."

"Ajax im sorry is it the nightmare again? Come lets get you to bed first." You grabbed him softly by his hands and guide him to your shared bedroom.

"Sit here okay, do you want a tea ajax? Hold on lemme get it for you"

"No! No.. sit here with me (name)" he grabbed your arm and usher you to sit down with him

"Alright alright." You sat down beside him, "Is it the nightmare again? Im sorry i was on the kitchen, do you perhaps want to talk about it?"

To which he only shakes his head as an response

"Please just.. just stay with me, just for now." He said whilst embracing you on his arm

His hugged seemed stiffer, he hugged you as if you could disappear on any second. You could feel how your shoulder was somehow starting to get warmer. Oh ajax..

As you too embraced him on your arm and rubbed his back, "its fine im here now ajax." You ponder what could he be possibly dreaming of? Perhaps its his memory of the abyss.

Venti

– Everyone can be prone to night terrors, even the god of teyvat, Venti. To your days of being with him you've had never seen him succumb to his own nightmare, usually it was you.

– whenever you would have your usual night terrors Venti would always be there for you, he would embrace on his arms, sings you a tune of melody until you feel safe enough to sleep again.

– however this night was different, you were out having a good midnight of mondstadt wind on your house balcony, but what you failed to notice is that your boyfriend was not having a really good sleep tonight.

– just when you were finished hanging out on the balcony of your house, you turned your heels to be met with a view of your own lover sitting on the edge of the bed whilst his cheeks seems to be stained with tear.

"Venti?" You turned your heels to him.

"Oh? Im sorry love, i must've startled you heh." He said his face forcing a smile, "though, what were you doing this late at night? You should be sleeping."

"Just inhaling some cold wind, whats wrong? Is it the nightmare again?" You sat beside him on the edge of the bed

"Cmere lemme hug you, sorry i was on the balcony." You hugged him tight, "if you want to tell me about it im all ears."

"No its fine (Name), just stay here with me." He said embracing himself on your arms, "Just you yourself its enough to make me feel safe again (Name)."

You looked at his face, this time his face was showing smile, a genuine one.

Xiao

– Xiao never sleeps, he never do he was afraid that if he sleeps the haunting memory of his friends would show up on his dream. Xiao was always restless, but not until he met you.

– You were like the radiant sun on his dark life, you would always light up his life, when he learned that you were not affevted by his karmic debt he couldnt be much more happier knowing that he's free to be with you without afraid that his karmic debt is affecting you.

– sometimes when xiao was having his night terror, he would leave without saying a word to you, sometimes when you woke up you would find his side of the bed. And when you confront him about what happened, he will simply just shakes his head.

– as you were staying the night at wangshu inn you noticed that your lover side of bed is empty, you began to wonder where he might went. So you went to wangshu's inn balcony in hope that xiao was there.

when you went up to the wangshu's inn balcony, you could feel the cold air of liyue hitting your bone, just as you reached the top you sees that a certain green haired boy standing near the rail of the balcony

"Xiao?" You said approaching him

"What are you doing? Why are you awake at this hour (name)?" He turned to face you, you noticed that his face expression is sour. Must've been the nightmare..

"I was looking for you of course," You stopped your heels, "You know you can always talk to me when this happened my Love"

"I don't want to disturb your sleep (name)."

"Who cares about sleep when your own partner is having a nightmare?" You held his hand, "If you want to talk to me about it just say it alright?"

"Lets return to our room, i'll give you a good cuddle." You said smiling

"Of course" He softened his gaze at you

Its always rare to see him be vulnerable like this, and when you do you couldn't be much happier that your own Lover feels safe on your own presence.