⚝ per aspera ad astra ⚝

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[urtheloml]

✧˖° read me⋆｡°✩

✮ hello! i'm may ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✮ i'm 22 !! this is where i write my silly little fics, thank you for reading!! don't be afraid to send me messages/asks, or comments !!! i love interacting with every one of you !! ✮ please view my tumblr in desktop mode or on a computer!! i think the theme is super cuteヾ(≧▽≦*)/ but it doesn't show up on mobile <//3 [credits for it below!] ✮ find my masterlist and other links below :) ✮ love you always

quick links

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅ main blog ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅ recipe blog ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅ ao3

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masterlist

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ wonder how we got this far (i don't really need to wonder at all) bakugou x reader, w/c 9k, you’re excited about the prom, bakugou is not— disagreement ensues

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ my love (boundless, cosmic, never-ending) bakugou x reader, w/c 2.1k, watching Everything Everywhere All At Once makes you think of the theory of a multiverse. your boyfriend isn’t too pleased.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cosmically in love with you oikawa x reader, w/c 9.4k, the first time you meet him, he scowls. and then he cries right in front of you, and subconsciously, you keep wishing to see him again. oikawa tooru keeps you captivated and the more you get to know him, the faster you fall.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ bind your love (to me) senku x gen, w/c 700, senku thinks gen is stupid. then again, he’s quite the idiot in love when it comes to gen anyway.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ heartbreak boy atsumu x reader, w/c 8k, miya atsumu— your personal heartbreak boy. being in love with your best friend is tiring but maybe a school concert will help.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ misfit bakugou x reader, w/c 2.3k, it’s been three months since bakugou katsuki kissed you in that dark classroom. consequently, he panics over what to do for the anniversary.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ little white lie bakugou x reader, w/c 4.8k, somehow, you find yourself locked in your classroom with bakugou katsuki— shenanigans ensue.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 3:27 bakugou x reader, wc 7.8k, it’s late and everything is going wrong and you wish he were here. and then suddenly he is.

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credits

tumblr header: @aquafeles tumblr theme: @xuethms

[urtheloml]

wonder how we got this far (i don't really need to wonder at all)

pairing: bakugou x reader w/c: 9k synopsis: you're excited about the prom, bakugou is not— disagreement ensues a/n: i'm back... first post of 2023 n the year is almost over... embarrassing 🧍🏼‍♂️this is the third n final installation to my little white lie mini-series!! read part 1 here n part 2 here!! this can be read as a standalone too :3 uhm... i started this fic in like... april (??) n completely forgot abt it until last week so i have no idea what the original plot was going 2 be but i think it turned out okay (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) also i know this fic is SOOOO overdramatic but i have watched every single movie that had a major prom scene (hsm3, the duff, mean girls, etc) n growing up, i looked forward it to SO bad that i literally used it as motivation to do well in exams. but then COVID happened so no prom experience for me so this is me basically projecting onto my writing!! okay mwah hope u like it xx o((>ω< ))o!!

Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. The opening scene of the Bee Movie plays like a mantra in your head as you're searching for something in your closet. Your ears pick up the occasional grunt or cheer from your boyfriend, who's currently laying in your bed with his DS in hand, and your eyes roll affectionately.

You can't find what you're looking for so you abandon the mess you've made in your drawer and turn to Bakugou instead. "'Katsu, have you seen my can of body glitter? It's in a little purple spray bottle."

Bakugo barely glances your way, "No, why would I have seen that. Why d'ya need it anyway?"

Your body slumps against his comfortably as you cosy up next to him on your bed and even if it's been a while, your heart still skips when he immediately tangles his legs with yours. "I need it to make myself glittery for the prom, duh. You can use it too if you want before we leave."

"Huh?"

"The prom. The dance thing we're going to, in like three days?"

Bakugou's eyebrows scrunch up confusedly as he puts his DS down and immediately a bad premonition settles in your gut. "What are you talking about? I never said I was going to that shit."

Ah. There it is. You're glad he put his game down 'cause if he wasn't looking at you while you're about to have this conversation then his console might have landed outside your window right about now. You're looking at him incredulously when you say, "What do you mean you're not going? You're my boyfriend so you have to go. It's like an unspoken rule... you can't not go to prom. Who's gonna take me then? You want me to go alone, like some loser?"

The barrage of questions makes him smile amusedly at you, but for once the sight of it induces anything but affection in you. There's no way he's taking you seriously right now. Bakugou scoffs and turns back to his game, "Huff all you want, princess, but I'm not going to the prom."

Before he can start a new game, your body lands on top of him unceremoniously so you have his undivided attention. "'Tsuki! This is our one and only prom as high schoolers. Doesn't that mean anything to you? I want to go and dance with my girls and I want to dance with you. Please?"

His jaw ticks, and he looks away from you because he knows if he stares too long then he'll cave. He refuses to go and you're not about to sway him. He has his own reasons for not wanting to go and he'll stand by them if it's the last thing he'll do.

"I told you I ain't fuckin' going, alright? You can go with your friends and you can have fun and dance with them but I'm not going. Stop pushing me on this."

His voice comes out hard and unwavering, leaving no room for argument. Also, you can't believe he just called you pushy. Bakugou, who forced a confession out of you just because he wanted you to say it first. He underestimates your persistence though, because next thing he knows, you're leaning down like you're about to kiss him and his eyes are already half-lidded but instead you bite down harshly on his nose.

Bakugou yelps but that doesn't deter you. "Can you at least tell me why you don't want to go? Because you don't want to go to a lot of things with me but you always end up going anyway. Like the nail salon, or Bath and Body Works. Why's it different this time?"

His eyes narrow and he shifts beneath you, probably trying to escape your shit fuck ton of questions but you're caging him in. He stays quiet for a whole three minutes when he finally says, "I just don't want to go, fuck, can't you just let it go and compromise for fucking once?"

What. "What?"

“I’m just saying,” Bakugou sneers, propping his elbow up below his head, “you shouldn’t be forcing me to go. You said it yourself, ya know, it feels like I’m always doing what you want.”

You falter. "That's bullshit, Katsuki. You're being really mean right now."

It seems that you used the wrong choice of words because his face turns gloomy, and you can tell he’s biting the inside of cheek as hard as he can. He places his forearm over his eyes so he can physically block out your reaction when he practically spits, “Why don’t you go date golden boy Kirishima if you think I’m so mean, huh?”

Woah. That was a low fucking blow and he knows it. He regrets bringing up his best friend’s name the moment the words leave his mouth because the way you inhale sharply and get off of him fearing for his life. The hairs on his arms rise when you start speaking to him scoldingly, and he won't even deny that he deserves it.

“I cannot believe you’re still using that against me, ‘Suki, that was more than a year ago! And don’t give me shit about not knowing how to compromise because I always eat the food you make. Even when you make it spicy on purpose even though you know I can’t handle it. And you know what? I don’t particularly like going to the gym with you on the weekends, but I still always go! And maybe sometimes I wish we could have more than just study dates but I stay and read with you anyway. And I always, always, forgive you when you do stupid shit like forgetting our anniversary or- or when you make me cry."

Almost as if your body takes cue from your words, you can feel a familiar stinging sensation creep up behind your eyelids. It starts a chain reaction because somehow Bakugou barrels on. Even though his face blanches when he sees the water on your lash line, he can’t seem to stop his mouth from moving.

"Well, fuck, sorry I'm such a shitshow to handle, princess. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. But if you’re so tired of me already, then why don't you just break up with me, huh?"

No longer was there a trace of affection or playfulness in the way he calls you ‘princess’. The word drips with condescension and malice and your heart cracks a bit at the way he speaks about himself. Bakugou's sitting on the bed now, looking up at you as you stand before him.

Yet, your gaze holds nothing but warmth and frustrated tears when you look at him. Because, much to your dismay, you also always know when there’s something up with Bakugou . He leans away for a moment when your hands come up to touch his head, but decides to let himself fall into your touch in the end.

Bakugou buries his face against your stomach, gripping onto the back of your shirt with crumpled fists. Gently, your hand cards through his messy hair, “Baby, I never said that. I never said you were hard to deal with. You’re a very easy person to deal with, and an even easier person to love. And I have never, ever, thought about leaving you. Okay? I’m sorry for making you think that."

He nods into you, the movement tickles your abdomen and he does it again and again until you start giggling and pushing his head away. Bakugou rests his chin against your navel, looking up at you with slightly glassy eyes. He knows he doesn’t deserve the kindness you’re laying onto him, doesn't deserve you in general, but he still reaches up to swipe a thumb under your eye.

“No, I was out of line. I shouldn't have said all that. I’m sorry, I was bein’ rude as shit.”

The truth is, Bakugou isn't really that easy to deal with. You can handle him just fine because you've had years of practice. To an untrained eye, maybe it'll look bad for him when he scoffs a fuck off everytime you ask to hold his hand. But you know he never means it because he always takes your hand anyway, intertwining his fingers with yours. And then he'll squeeze your hand three times; i love you, i love you, i love you.

So no, he isn't easy to deal with. His body language and words don't always correspond to what he's trying to convey but it's still plainly obvious that he quite stupidly adores you anyway. He'll yell at you for forgetting your wallet, he'll call you an idiot the whole day and then he'll pay for your lunch and walk you home the same day. If you get cold for forgetting a cardigan, he'll tease and taunt you for a whole five minutes maximum before giving you his own that he just somehow keeps forgetting to take out of his bag, as he says. He'll make a face like he just ate a lemon when he tries and fails to not make fun of you if you don’t score so well on a test, and then he’ll tutor you for hours on end until you can get it right.

It gets quite predictable.

He pulls you down then, letting your bodyweight sink onto his lap and presses a kiss against your lips in apology and you hate that it works. Hate that he can erase every mistake with a press of his lips to yours, because he never kisses you without meaning it. And you know he means to say sorry with the way his tongue slips into your mouth.

Unfortunately, the argument does not end.

He pulls away, breathing heavier than before. The bubble of calmness and comfort around you bursts explosively however when he mutters, “‘M still not going to the prom, though.”

It's not like you didn't see this coming. You knew that he didn't really care about prom, no matter how badly you wanted him to. You just thought that maybe he'd take you anyway. The thought of going without him makes your chest clench because you could have the time of your life with your girls but it won't feel the same without him next to you.

Maybe he's right. Maybe you do make him do things he doesn't really want to. But then again, you do the same for him. You're left confused and defeated when it's time for him to leave and he's still adamant on not going. On one hand, you don't want to force him to go. But on another, you really do wish he'd change his mind.

You're silent as you show him out, and he notices but he stays quiet too and in his head, he beats himself for being a coward. He hates himself for not being able to talk to you properly. He knows very well that if he just told you what's up with him then you'd understand, and you could still probably convince to go to the dance. But he doesn't speak up.

Right before he leaves, he leans down to kiss you goodnight but you turn away at the last moment so his lips meet your cheek instead. Slowly, you press a palm against his heart, pushing him away and pretending you can’t hear how it stutters at your denial.

"Hey, before you go, I'm sorry if I'm being pushy again but you-,” your voice trails off, and you sigh defeatedly, “you can't keep making me cry and just expect to kiss it better all the time, okay? And I know you don't mean to do it, but it still hurts, Bakugou. I'm tired of getting hurt all the time and I'm not forcing you to go, but I hope you know that it really fucking sucks that my own boyfriend won't go to the dance with me, and it sucks even more that he won't even tell me why."

Bakugou? What happened to Katsu or ‘Suki, he mourns internally. He keeps a blank face but it feels like the blood within his veins just got replaced with pure fucking ice as he lets your words sink in. He refuses to let his facade break but it feels like someone is grabbing him by the throat and he can’t seem to breathe right.

"If you keep making me feel like this, one day I'm not just gonna let you kiss it all better. 'Cause sooner or later, you're gonna run out of chances."

Bakugou stays unanswering, and you look at him pleadingly for him to just talk to you but he doesn't. It's not until you go to close your door that he finally speaks, voice soft but accusing, "You just said you've never thought of leaving me, and now just 'cause I'm not taking you to some stupid dance, you're taking it all back?"

If Bakugou had superpowers, pissing you off would definitely be one of them. You resist the urge to stomp your foot childishly, because you know that won't help to get your point across. Your teeth bite down on nothing as harshly as possible because you don't want to start arguing again, it won't solve anything. He knows that too, and even though your hands stay right by your side, he feels like he was just punched in the jaw when you meet his eyes and he finds that somehow, he managed to make you cry twice in one night.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe this isn't just some stupid dance to me? I get it, okay, that it's not your scene or whatever, and it doesn't matter to you but it really matters to me," you tell him as placatingly as possible, and his eyes are as clouded as his judgement, "I've waited a long time for this, and I never thought I'd even be lucky enough to have someone who means so much to me to go with. And if you can't even see how important it is to me that I want you with me at this stupid dance, then you're the worst. The worst."

With that, you finally shut the door in his face. His muffled protests behind the slab of wood go ignored in favour of stomping back to your room. Bakugou's insufferable! He's stupid and stubborn and temperamental. He's a hothead that jumps headfirst into anything he does with everything he's got.

He's the worst. (he's the furthest thing from it)

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Neither you nor Bakugou give in to the temptation of calling one another. When you see him in class, you don't look at him and you go straight home. The both of you being too stubborn to admit defeat by reaching out first. It hurts to admit though, that for once you wish he'd just call you. A mere three days of radio silence on both your ends doesn't do wonders for your relationship, it chips away at both of you until the hurt simmmers to a seemingly numb feeling in your hearts.

As you think of ways to spite him, your mind comes up with the idea of going with someone else. But you don't entertain that thought for longer than a second, because that would be cheating and you'd never stoop that low. He probably wouldn't even know if you did anyway.

The night before the prom, you sit on your bed forlornly, twirling the little charm bracelet that slings around your wrist. It's a cute thing that Bakugou gifted you a few months ago. It was a simple purple band with two star charms on its ends and a little saturn charm in the middle. He has a matching one in blue.

"It's beautiful, 'suki. Why saturn?" You had asked.

"Uh... I don't- I read somewhere that it kinda symbolises growth and commitments. And you know, that fits us." Katsuki answered, withholding the fact that he spent three hours reading multiple astrology sites about it even though he quite frankly thinks it's bullshit but didn't want to get the meaning wrong anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I wanna fucking commit to you and I'm gonna be everything you’ll ever need.”

The bracelet jingles lightly as you fidget with it. Your phone lays on your bed with no signs of him calling and a deep crushing sigh escapes you as you prepare yourself for another night of tossing and turning. The memory of what the bracelet meant lulls you to sleep and you're left wondering if he's still wearing it too, which makes you wonder even more if he's missing you as much as you're missing him or if he's missing you at all. It's hardly noticeable but you think your cheeks feel damp as your eyes fall close.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

In his own room, Bakugou lets the dumbbell he's curling fall to the floor. He barely hears the resounding thud it makes or his mom yelling at him for dropping the weight like that. He flops onto his bed, arms spread and neck spotted with sweat. His mind swims with thoughts of you and he wishes it wasn't so hard for him to just fucking open up to you. His insides twist just thinking about the way he left things with you, it makes him feel stupid and he hates it.

It's not like he doesn't want to take you to the prom. If anything, he'd love to do that. He wants to show you off so bad. Have you all pretty, draped over his arm and looking gorgeous in whatever dress you wanted to wear. God does he want to, he wants everyone to see you with him and he'd bask in his smugness that no one else gets to have you like this but him. He'd relish in the absolute envy on anyone else's face as that saw you with him. Because everyone knows, including himself, that you're too good for him. And now he's gone and fucked it all up.

For all the confidence he exudes, Bakugou Katsuki is actually not someone who's void of insecurities. If anything, his confidence is just a front to his crackling interior. But not always, because sometimes he is quite the hot shit. Anyway.

Contrary to your belief, he doesn't want to go to the prom for your sake. He's heard the things people have said about you- or rather, he's heard what has been said about you in regards to your relationship with him. Just thinking about it makes him feel nauseous all over again. He wasn't supposed to hear it, he thinks.

He'd been walking past the girl's toilet whilst looking for you. It wasn't on him that girls talk so fuckin' loudly. Like c'mon, in his defence, if you're going to talk shit about someone, at least do it quietly so that the person aforementioned won't hear his own name like a siren beckoning him to eavesdrop. So really, it's not his fault for pressing his back against the wall to hear the rest. He can't put a name to the two voices (why would he be able to) but from what they're saying, they know him apparently.

..."... I bet he's forcing her. To date him, I mean."

"I don't know... they seem pretty lovey-dovey and all gross to me. If you ask me, she should leave now and find someone better."

"That's called conditioning. Or like, stockholm syndrome. I mean, let's be serious, who wants to willingly date Bakugou of all people. He's like if the word aggression was personified. He's mental, I swear."

They laugh, gaudy.

"I bet he's gonna show up to the dance with the poor girl, 'cause he's way too fucking clingy. Have you noticed that he's practically by her side almost 24/7. Hope they don't turn up together, like give that girl a break."

So. He wasn't supposed to hear that. He wasn't supposed to fucking hear that, and for a good fucking reason. At that moment, it felt like his heart was stuck in his throat while simultaneously, his stomach dropped to his ass. He doesn't cry. He's not that bothered by it. But it makes his head spin that people actually think of him like that.

By then, he wasn't thinking straight, because if he was, then he'd know not to make assumptions about how everyone felt about him based on two girls' conversation. Alas, he's not thinking straight, so, fuck it.

He doesn't know if you remember but he barely said anything when he walked you home.

It hurt him, but everything they said about him wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. It was the way they talked about you that got to him. How you were unhappy or being forced, they said. It's the way he's tried his hardest to pour his heart and soul into you and him and it's still seemingly not enough for people around him to think that you're both undeniably gone for each other.

It makes him upset, because he thinks he's been doing a pretty good job at showing you just how much you mean to him, but apparently fuckin' not. He's obviously not doing something right. Which makes him feel frustrated because he can't figure it out. He tells you he loves you plenty. Okay, maybe not plenty but he does say it. He says it and he knows you know that he’s trying to show it in his own words. He always keeps a jacket for you, he’s never let you fail a test since you got together and he always always makes you extra food that he makes for himself. Maybe he’s done something wrong along the way.

It's not like he unintentionally made the food spicy for you. Sometimes it just slips his mind that your portion can't be the same level of spicy as his is. And he knows how sad you get when you fail an exam, which is why he forgoes normal dates to sit and study with you. Of course he'd much rather do something like hiking or fucking, he doesn't know, laser tag with you, but he'd always put your education first. He knows how much it means to you after all.

An ugly feeling nags at him. It makes him want to pull away from you, show some distance so people would stop talking for a bit. But another part of him wants to run to your house right now and tell you I'm sorry. please don't leave. I can do better. Neither of those feelings actually make him do anything, though, because he's stubborn and refuses to cave.

Ugh. He thinks, before promptly passing out on his bed.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The evening of the prom arrives. You're standing in front of your mirror, all dressed up and pretty. Your dress accentuates your curves amazingly and you've adorned your cheeks with small star-shaped rhinestones and sprayed a generous amount of body glitter all over yourself. The shimmer makes itself known in every crevice of your room but it doesn't bother you right now.

An imaginary Bakugou makes himself comfortable on your bed. He's eyeing you up and down and groaning appreciatively at the sight he's been blessed with. Fuckin' gorgeous, he says, just like you know he would if he were actually here. You're wearing his colours after all.

Your hands smooth down your dress incessantly for the nth time that night, as if getting rid of the imperceptible wrinkles on your dress would get rid of the thoughts in your head as well. It doesn't, but it makes you feel calmer. Maybe some would call it dramatic, or stupid, but you don't even really feel like going without him.

You don't want to miss out on your prom, and you still want to dance with your friends and eat cheap shitty food though. So maybe your hair droops a little, akin to your mood, but you leave your house shining and smiling anyway.

And when you get there, things start looking up. Whoever's in charge of the music has been doing an amazing job of not playing Closer by the Chainsmokers on repeat yet so that's win in your book. In fact, they're not playing any songs that would give the average retail worker war flashbacks, which means they're doing a phenomenal job.

The hall is mostly full by the time you and your friends find a table near the back. There's a line at the punch table and you can already tell that it's probably spiked with something judging by the students practically dry-humping one another on the dancefloor, much to one of the school's chaperone's dismay.

The first hour passes by without a hitch. The buffet table is lined with cheap pizzas, stale fries and other questionable foods like jello cups that you're not sure is even made with real jelly. But your friends eat it anyway and you do too because food poisoning's all part of the party package.

At the back of the hall, there's a photo booth with props and signs for everyone to take. Your friends and yourself take ungodly amounts of pictures at the booth, laughing loudly without a care in the fucking world. You don't let yourself think about how Bakugou would scoff at the choice of props, you refuse to let yourself think about how he'd pose after choosing something equally stupid and you absolutely do not let yourself think about how much brighter you'd be smiling if he were here with you. You don't.

The sound system blares songs from bands you're somewhat familiar with, the bass of the songs echo and reverberate throughout the dancehall. It amplifies the adrenaline running through your veins as you jump around with the rest of the people in the hall. It feels silly and unnatural but you're giggling and swaying and it isn't so bad when you've got your girls right next to you doing the same thing.

It's easy to forget about all the aches when you let yourself get lost in the crowd. You're pushed into the middle of the dancefloor that's definitely filled with people who don't go to your school.

A song that you vaguely recognise by The Weeknd plays over the speakers and it's so fast paced that your heart thumps to the bass of the song. The tremors echo through the hall, shaking the floor and it becomes so easy to forget why you were upset in the first place.

The song ends and cheers from half-drunk high schoolers fills the temporary silence that follows. The DJ announces that he's about to slow things down a little for a kick of romance. He stretches out the word romance so it sounds more like roooowmaynceee and when the music fades into something mellower, it becomes even easier to remember.

It becomes increasingly harder to ignore the pitiful glances your friends send your way as they're whisked away by their own dates. Humiliation and longing pools in your belly as you watch your friends get their waists held and their bodies swayed and it fucking sucks. Even though you wave dismissively at them, it does look quite pathetic when you slowly move to stand against the wall by yourself.

Your eyes sweep over the couples dancing, and you pray that no one asks you to dance while you're being a wallflower. You don't think you'd want to dance with anyone but him anyway. Distantly, your mind wanders to Bakugou, and you're left thinking about what he must be doing at this hour. Maybe he's studying, or watching a movie, or cooking something inedible like always. Maybe he's already asleep. Maybe he's missing you and he's on his way over here right now.

Nobody is crueler to you than yourself, you think, as you let your mind wander dangerously into that false pretence of hope that he might change his mind about showing up.

There's a phantom feeling that glides over your skin as you watch your friends dance, and you wrap your hands around your elbows to soothe it. The sweat from your earlier dancing cools off as the air in the hall gets cooler and you're not sure if it's the crisp, cold air, or the fact that you're painfully aware of Katsuki's absence that makes your throat sting each time you inhale.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

In the end, Katsuki's mother is the one who quite literally knocks some sense into him. Mitsuki Bakugou is not a force to be reckoned with, ever, and as tough and cool Katsuki makes himself seem, he'll always be a little bit intimidated by his mom. It's why he tries to seem as nonchalant as possible as he sits on his couch while staring unblinkingly at the TV.

Mitsuki pops her head into the living room. Fuck, he didn't think she'd be home so soon.

"Katsuki? What the hell are you still doing here?"

"You going crazy, hag? It's a Friday night, am I not allowed to take a fuckin' break or what?" He swallows.

"Language, asshat. And I just stopped by Inko's, brat, I know what day it is today," she sighs annoyedly before plopping down next to him, "She tried to show me Every. Single. Photo of Izuku in his tux. I had to tell her I left the stove on to get out of there. So quit the bullshit. Why are you still here?"

Katsuki has a pillow in his lap and he squeezes it until his knuckles turn pale so his voice won't waver.

"She didn't want me to take her," he lies, hoping his mom will take the bait.

Mitsuki shoves her son's head to the side good-naturedly, "I thought I told you to quit the bullshit, brat. That girl adores the hell out of you for some fucking reason, so don't try to lie to me."

It's that one goddamn line that has him snapping at her. It's her words and the stupid girls in the stupid fucking toilet and it's an amalgamation of everything that has him wanting to tear his fucking hair out that makes him lose it.

"Yeah, okay, fuck you too mom. You're right, I don't fucking know why someone like her wants to be with someone as fucked up and angry and- and mean and aggressive as I am too, alright? Everyone at school already fucking wonders why she even wants me so I didn't take her to this stupid fucking prom 'cus maybe they'll get off my back about fucking forcing her to be with me. I'm not in the goddamn mood to be hearing about this shit so fuck off. I wish I knew what the fuck she sees in me that's so good but I don't so just stop this fucked up interrogation, God."

He's not even looking at the TV anymore. He spits out his outburst while staring straight at his hands fisted in the poor pillow. It'll never uncrease now. His jaw is clenched so tightly he's scared his teeth might just shatter in his mouth. He doesn't want to look at his mom right now, too afraid to see her pitiful gaze directed at him. Doesn't want to hear her say you're right Katsuki, I don't know what she sees in you either.

Katsuki braces himself for an impact, knowing he's probably about to get smacked for talking to her like that. He doesn't expect the hand that gently lands atop his head, and he doesn't expect the hand that's curling behind his ears to turn his head towards her. Mitsuki looks at her son, making sure he really looks at her this time.

"Katsuki." She says, as gentle as the first time she held him in her arms. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, he looks just as small to her right now, and just like the day he was born, she will wrap him up and make sure he knows how loved he is.

"Katsuki, listen. I'm sorry for saying that," Mitsuki exhales, "It was a joke, but it was insensitive and I'm sorry. Every other time I said something like that about you wasn't true either. You're a good son and a good student and a good person. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, or says about you because the people who truly care about you know that you're a good fucking person, Katsuki."

Katsuki can barely hold eye contact with her. As embarrassing as it is, his vision blurs over and he will never acknowledge the way his voice breaks. "Mom," he shudders, "I'm always trying so fucking hard. I want to be good, please."

A noise that sounds like a choked back sob escapes him unwillingly. Mitsuki pulls his face into her shoulder and smiles when he barely resists. He fits just like he did before he thought hugging her wasn't cool anymore.

"You are good. You are so good, Katsuki." she whispers, "You always help to cook, and you keep the house clean and your grades up. You don't speak politely but you are honest and you are just like me. You use your hands, actions, to communicate rather than words. But you know, Katsuki, sometimes the people we love need to hear it from us too, okay? We'll both work on that."

A miniscule nod. "I'll start right now, Katsuki. You may be a brat sometimes, but you are my son. My sun. You are good, and kind and for everything you do not love about yourself, I love it tenfold."

He absolutely does not break at that. Katsuki bites back a whine, and exhales shakily again, soaking in her words like a sponge because he knows these moments for them come few and far in between. He doesn't mind. He thinks it's special that way, cherishing it whenever it does happen even more.

Mitsuki cards her hands through his hair, "You're a winner, Katsuki, that's why you have your name. Don't let whatever happened get to you like this. If you don't go to that stupid prom, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. Because I love you very much, and it might even be possible that that girl of yours loves you just as much, or maybe even a smidge more. Get your ass changed, and talk to her, alright? I know it's scary, letting someone in, but you care about her and you need to do this."

Katsuki pulls away from her, wiping his face roughly with his arms. He sniffles harshly, trying to erase all traces of the vulnerability he just showed. He bites his lip hard enough to almost draw blood. He wants to say he loves her back but the words fail him. Not yet, he thinks.

"I don't know what colour her dress is." He says instead.

"Wear your red suit. Don't ask questions, go get ready. You're already late, I'll call a cab for you."

Katsuki nods, getting up to walk to his room. He's halfway up the stairs when he pauses for a second. "Thanks mom. Love you."

Mitsuki waves her hand dismissively in his direction.

Katsuki stands in front of his mirror, inspecting everything he sees as if that'll change the way he feels about himself. His mom talking to him helped a lot, but he's still finding it hard to breathe and it's not just because his collar is choking him a bit. He fiddles with his bracelet. He tries to ground himself as he thinks about whether he should put on a different suit.

He really wishes he listened to what you were saying when you were talking about your dress. What if he shows up and his suit clashes with your dress? That would just make your night worse.

It's ridiculous. He knows he's just procrastinating. Because thinking about suit colours is easier than thinking about the crippling insecurity that still sits heavily on his shoulders, shackling him with the sheer weight of it all. He'd rather think about the colour of your dress than the fact that he feels like he can't give you what you deserve in a boyfriend.

His reflection frowns back at him.

The words you said play in his head like a broken record. You are the worst, you told him. He thinks of all the things he never really says to you because for some reason his emotionally constipated self just can't bring himself to say them. (Because he says I love you, but he means he hopes you never trip on your shoelaces if they're untied, that your hair never tangles in the wind, that if your drink spills not a drop of it would touch you, that your hands are always warm, that you'd never forget to bring your headphones before you leave the house and that you're always safe whenever he's not with you. Because he says I love you, but he means he hopes that if the sky were to drizzle, the raindrops themselves would feel privileged just to be able to fall upon your skin. Because he says I love you but he means he hopes you know he wants to say it right to your face, and into your mouth and kiss the words and every version of its meaning into the space where your shoulder meets your neck every morning when he wakes up and every night before he lets himself succumb to slumber. He says I love you, but he means more than what those words convey. He says I love you, but he means stay warm, stay safe. He says I love you but he means my heart belongs more to you than me. He says I love you but he means he'll never want anything else for as long as he lives if it meant you'd always stay with him. He says I love you but he means come home to me and keep coming home to me, please.)

Oh.

If he could kick himself for being so stupid, he would. But he can't so he'll let you do it for him instead. I am not a coward, he tells himself as his unsteady hands try to make his hair look less of a mess. It doesn't work so he leaves it be and dashes out the door with an undone tie around his neck and he hastily side-hugs his mom- dodging her attempts to groom him- before throwing himself into the cab.

He doesn't make it a habit to show up late, but hopefully this time you'll forgive him. This time showing up late is better than not at all.

He's never made it a habit to show up late but maybe this time showing up late is better than not showing up at all. He drums his fingers nervously on his thigh throughout the entire ride. He hopes to God you're having fun. He hopes you know he's on the way. He hopes, and hopes and prays that he hasn't lost his chance.

When he arrives, he doesn't even spare a glance for his own friends, too preoccupied with finding you. The hall isn't very big but the space is large enough that he has to walk around a few times just to spot you.

The minute he sees you leaning against the wall, he wishes desperately he could go back in time. He'd do fucking anything to erase that faraway look in your eyes. He can see the way you're yearning to be one of the couples on the dancefloor and he wants to unwrap your hands around yourself and replace it with his own.

Katsuki breathes in deep and makes his way towards you cus damn it, if you wanted a dance, he'll give you a fucking dance alright.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The last slow song finally slowly tunes out, transitioning into a more upbeat one. The couples finally disentangle themselves from one another and you're just about to step back onto the dancefloor when a very familiar pair of arms snake around your waist.

You didn't even see him come in. It doesn't matter how he apparated here, because the only thing that matters right now is the fact that he showed up and the way his arms fit snugly around your hips. A breathless sound of disbelief escapes your lips as he pulls you into him when you turn around to face him.

If he's surprised by the lack of anger or disappointment on your face, he doesn't show it. All he knows is the feeling of your arms coming up to rest up on his shoulders. With the way you're beaming up at him, anyone would think that the only thing he did was show up almost two hours late. He knows better though, he knows he fucked up when all you wanted was for him to bring you to this stupid dance. And on God, would he try his hardest to make it up to you.

Katsuki leans into you, burying his nose into your hair that's all pinned up and pretty. He's getting glitter all over his face and suit and he doesn't care at all.

"I'm sorry," he exhales, letting the apology spill out of him, "'M so fuckin' sorry, princess."

It's so quiet, you almost think he never said it at all. In the background, you can just barely register the lyrics of Paramore's Still Into You that's currently playing. A litany of 'thank yous' is mentally conveyed to the DJ.

"And what are you sorry for?"

Katsuki clenches his jaw, his eyes darting away from yours like he's struggling not to look away. He groans before telling you, "There’s been rumours going on, people talking shit like they know us. Saying fuck all, running their fuckin’ mouths about how you could do better than me. And it’s stupid that I believed them for even a millisecond, I know. Then I realised that if I let you show up here alone then i’d just be proving those fuckers right. So, you win, princess. I took you to this stupid prom. I showed up, ‘m here right now."

Even though it's been said before, the lack of confidence Katsuki has in himself is absolutely baffling. It's like he can admit he has flaws and weaknesses and he'll know exactly what the problem is but he won't fucking talk to you for some reason you can't figure out.

Nevermind, you figured it out.

He's scared. Bakugou Katsuki is fearless. He's not afraid of anything, because he knows everything he's afraid of can be defeated one way or another. His fear of failure is conquered with his efforts in order to secure success. His fear of inferiority to anyone that's a threat towards him can be overtaken by brandishing his own achievements like a sword, or like armour. But when you come along, suddenly it becomes: Bakugou Katsuki was fearless.

The only thing he's scared of is losing you. That’s something that he alone can’t control, because you could very well decide to leave him if you ever felt like it. He realises that if he didn't show up tonight, the chances of that happening would be much much higher, and then if he lost you, he'd be a loser. Bakugou Katsuki is not a loser.

Your chest tightens at the thought that he actually believed that you’d leave him for someone better, as if someone like that even existed. One of your hands reaches up to curl around his neck, forcing him to look at you. You shake your head firmly when he tries leaning away.

You’re glad your voice remains steady when you say, "You should've talked to me. ‘Suki, I can’t believe you almost blew me off because of some shit some people we don’t even know thought about us. They don’t know anything about us, alright? They don’t fucking know how good I have it with you and you shouldn't keep all that to yourself next time, okay?”

His grip tightens, “You should’ve heard them though. Girls are fuckin’ ruthless. Talking about how easily you could just fuck off and get with someone better. Saying I... I'm forcing you to be with me. Fuck, it made me feel like shit ‘cause I knew there was some truth in what they said. I know I can stand to be nicer to you.”

Your hands find their way to his undone tie and you tug, “Katsuki, I don’t care about what they said. You hear me?”

Once he nods, you go on, "I couldn't do any better than you, because you're already the best. You said it yourself. If you think I deserve better, then be better, 'cause I don't want anyone but you. So stop trying to push me away. Whoever started all this can fucking eat our asses 'cause clearly they don't need their mouths if all they're gonna do is talk shit."

"Holy fuck, you really need to stop spending so much time with me." Katsuki snorts.

With a laugh, he twirls you around two times all while complaining that you're starting to sound exactly like him. But you’re not so sure he really minds so much judging by the way he grins wickedly at you. When his arms go back to their rightful place, you rest your forehead against his chest, "Also, let me? 'Suki, I did show up here alone. Which means that technically, you didn't really take me here, you know? 'Cause I had to come here all by myself."

Katsuki huffs and puffs, and leans back far enough to flick your forehead softly. He sways you slowly to the music, despite how fast the music is, "What matters is that I'm here. I’m fuckin' sorry for making you show up here all alone. Look, I’m even dancing with ya, ain’t that enough?”

Am I enough?

Katsuki says all that like he's exasperated with you but really he's posing it as a question. He's asking, and looking for a chance to redeem himself. Like always, you rest even more of your weight against him, knowing you can let yourself go boneless against him and he'll hold you all the same. He's all strong and soft and sturdy and you can hear his heartbeat thundering beneath his clothes and you make sure he can hear you when you say, "You've always been more than enough."

You can feel the way any lingering tension escapes him when you tell him that. He tells you softly, promises you that he'll start opening up more to you, and he kisses you on the cheek to really seal it in. The song echoes throughout the room, thrumming in your veins and making you feel weightless.

Some things just, some things just make sense and one of those is you and I.

His eyes don't waver as he really takes you in, savouring the image of how good you look. He sears the image of you into his brain and he hopes you know how serious he means when he rasps, "Fuck, ya look gorgeous by the way. Absolutely fucking stunnin' and I really fuckin' wish no one else but me could look at ya." His hands run down your sides slowly and squeeze at your hips, eliciting goosebumps all over your skin.

Heat quickly floods your cheeks and pools in your tummy, and his hands tighten his hold on you. You grin at him, "Well, ignoring your tie, I think you look very handsome as well. I'm surprised our colours didn't clash."

Katsuki barks a laugh at that. If only you knew.

It's quite the scene to see you and him swaying gently to such a hyped up tune. Everyone mostly crowds up around the front of the hall. But you and Katsuki hang back from the big mass of sweaty bodies, choosing to stand nearer to the opposite end of the room. If your friends look at you weird, you don't take notice. It's as if you're in your own little world; just you and him.

The second chorus sounds and Katsuki dips you as low as he can get before you yell at him. When you come back up, he's looking at you all starry eyed, staring directly at your lips. He can't stop himself, he cuts you off while you're singing along to kiss you right then. He swallows the little 'mmphrh!' that comes out of your throat greedily, sliding one of his hands up your back all the way to the cuff of your neck to press you even closer into him.

"Fuckin' missed you and your pretty fucking mouth, baby." he sighs breathlessly into you.

It's barely a chaste kiss, looking quite messy for a high school prom. Thankfully no staff member comes in between you and him, so he pulls away slowly before leaning back in. He kisses you once, twice and then some more and even a fifth and sixth time, like he's making up for all the days he didn't.

After he's satisfied with all the kisses he's peppered on your face, he leans away, smiling sillily. "She's right, you know?"

Your eyebrows furrow but your lips quirk up anyway, "What are you talking about?"

Katsuki spins you slowly, "The singer. She's right," and leads you back into him before singing monotonously, "After all this time, I'm still into you."

"You are such a loser, that was so cringe. Oh my god, what the fuck," you laugh, but your heart squeezes in affection.

Katsuki doesn't know if it's the haphazardly hung disco ball and the flashing lights that makes your eyes shine and sparkle or if it's just you, but he can't tear his eyes away from you. You're looking at him like he split the oceans for you, and he thanks every star in the sky that you're letting him hold you this close again.

If he knew how unreal you’d look when you’re dancing in his arms, he never would’ve ditched this thing. What a shame, he thinks, that he missed out on two whole hours that could have been spent with you looking like this. Maybe it’s the air in the hall but he feels practically giddy at the sight of you enjoying yourself, and it makes his heart fucking leap because it’s him that’s making you smile like that.

The sides of his mouth hurt from how much they've been stretched tonight, but he can't keep the smile off his face when you say, "You're right though. She is right."

He hums along to the tune, because denies it as he may, he absolutely loves this song just as much as you do.

Your eyes drink up the sight of Katsuki dressed up so… in character. His hair is as messy as ever, his tie hangs loose and undone around his neck and you’re sure his suit jacket has seen better days but he looks fucking ethereal to you. He’s all lethal grins and loud laughter and his cologne smells as spicy and warm as it always does and you realise again just how in love you are with him.

Katsuki’s eyes are gleaming, and maybe it’s just a trick in the light but you’re reminded of just how lucky you are to have him like this. Because maybe he is brash and harsh when he talks to you, but he’s never treated you like you’re anything but the most important thing in his life. To him, you’re his favourite person in the whole world, and he doesn’t need to say it out loud because he knows you know it too.

So maybe Katsuki isn't easy to read, or deal with. That doesn't mean he's not easy to love. Because loving him was like breathing— instinctual and  inevitable. You loved him the way the moon loved the ocean, and the way the sun loved the stars. Loving him was the easiest thing you've ever done in your life, and you knew that wasn’t ever going to change.

And baby even on our worst nights, I'm into you. Let 'em wonder how we got this far, 'cause I don't really need to wonder at all. Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

(extra)

Later, when the two of you have sufficiently made out against the wall enough for the chaperones to flick water at Katsuki so he'll finally pull away, you'll find his hand and pull him along to the rest of your friends.

Kirishima will see you two and laugh, telling Katsuki he's glad he pulled his head out of his ass. Katsuki will hiss, "Kay why ess..." and drag you to the photo booth. You won't tell him, but you're secretly glad that you were right. He does scoff at the assortment of props but he picks up a stupid styrofoam emoji of a bomb.

He pushes you into the booth and sets the timer for the picture. Right as it's about to go off, he looks at you very seriously as he says, "You put the boom-boom into my heart," before absolutely smashing the emoji against your cheek.

"KATSU I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU-"

The photos come out blurry and you're wide-mouthed and laughing in all of them. He's looking at you like you're the only thing that exists. There’s barely any inches between you and him like you’re the sun and he’s every planet that orbits your celestial body.

Katsuki walks you home afterwards, laughing and stealing your body heat as he delivers you to your doorstep. When you kiss him goodnight, he thinks he must have known you in every life before this one for him to have the capacity to love you as much as he does. He keeps his copy of the photo in his wallet, signing the back with 'still into you xx'.

Not that he needs the reminder.

[urtheloml]

my love (boundless, cosmic, never-ending)

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader w/c: 2.1k synopsis: watching Everything Everywhere All At Once makes you think of the theory of a multiverse. your boyfriend isn't too pleased. a/n: idk i just thought bakugou would immediately tell you stfu if you told him to imagine an alternate universe that didn't have you in it hwhwhwhe <3 also: happy new year! i posted four times,,?? in 2022,, that's soo wild 4 me teehee :p anyway thanks for the support ily happy 2023

A crescendo rings, it echoes throughout the room and the sound bounces off the walls in your living room. The credits of the movie roll, the title 'Everything Everywhere All at Once' a stark white against the black background and if you squint, you can just barely catch your wide-eyed expression on the TV screen. Bakugou lifts his head off the couch arm, his face indented with lines from pressing into the leather. The room is filled with total silence, because holy shit.

"Babe, that was the greatest movie I've ever seen in my life. Like, ever." 

Bakugou snorts, but he doesn't disagree, and he probably refrains from answering verbally because he doesn't want you to hear how scratchy his voice sounds. Even though you definitely saw him get teary-eyed, he refuses to acknowledge that he cried during the film.

It would be stupid to poke fun at your boyfriend though because if his eyes are just barely red, yours are practically bloodshot and swollen. How could you, or him, not cry? The film was centred around immigrant parents learning how to grow, how to accept their children and apologising in their own ways. It was bound to happen.

Bakugou gets up and you let your legs stretch out, laying down fully on the couch. He shuffles around the room, picking up stray pieces of popcorn that you both threw at each other during the movie. He switches the TV off, puts the bowls and cups in the sink and washes them for you too. All the while, your mind thinks about the theory of a multiverse, thinks about Katsuki and how different things could've been.

When he returns, he rolls his eyes at the sight of your wet cheeks. A hand, big enough to capture both your ankles, lifts your feet up and Bakugou sets them back down in his lap. Absent-mindedly, he starts stroking your legs, calming you down, like you were a cat and not a human. 

"Why are you still crying? The movie's been over for ten minutes, you loser."

You can't really be bothered to call him something mean, not when your mind is working faster than your mouth and wide-eyed, you blurt out, "Kats, if the multiverse theory does exist, you realise that there's a universe where you and I never met? Or one where you and I hate each other and will never have what we have now- ow!"

The soft ministrations on your leg turn into a pinch, the skin stinging between his two fingers. Bakugou cuts off your rambling by doing so, and he eases the pain over with a kiss, like it never happened at all. He clicks his tongue, "Stop it, you know I fuckin' hate it when you start saying shit like that."

But you can't stop, your mind is whirring at speeds impossible thinking about every single life that he's not in with you. It makes you ache, makes you start saying stupid things like, "No, listen, Katsuki like it's an infinite multiverse, babe. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it but it's true so I think it's justifying me crying a bit 'cause in some life, you and I- hmprh!"

And suddenly, you're being pulled upright and Bakugou's covering your mouth with his hand, something that always takes you by surprise because it's so calloused but still so warm and it's such a contrast to his exterior, and he looks at you dead in the eyes and says quietly (steadily), "It's not true. It doesn't exist and it won't fuckin' ever."

Unbeknownst to you, in the midst of your rant that couldn't have lasted more than five seconds, Bakugou's traitorous mind assaults him with snapshots of what his life could've been without you in it. The moment you mentioned it, he saw it. He saw a life where there wasn't you by his side. 

A meaningless existence where someone didn't drool on his shoulder on the couch, where someone didn't insist on holding hands even when it was hot out, where someone didn't take the time to pry him open and let him be loved as much as he loved them.

He saw it— living with your absence. How dull and colourless it would've been without you there for him to hold or to kiss in the mornings and afternoons and at nighttime. He let the foolish image of a life devoid of your traces play out in his mind, and it lasted no longer than a millisecond but he hated it. Living with no one to cook eggs for in the morning, waking up in a bed that wasn't warmed by you and going to sleep without letting you sink into him. It was moronic, incredulous, and it baffled him to even think about it.

He thinks of the time you forced him to look away from what he was cooking, just to dance in your small kitchenette to whatever song was playing in the background. There was no room to really sway you and his elbows kept knocking into the cupboards and he couldn't stop the grin from taking over his face. 

You had laughed and it sounded like everything he ever wanted.

He burnt the food, you ate it anyway. He thinks of a life where the food had been cooked perfectly, and he would've had to eat it alone and it would've tasted bland and flavourless anyway. Nothing would've mattered, not one achievement or goal he reached, none of it would ever matter in any lifetime across any universe if you weren't right there beside him.

Bakugou releases you, letting you fall back onto the couch with a huff. He pokes and squeezes your legs, biting the inside of his cheek to try to cleanse his mind of the foul images he was forced to think of. Your eyes track every movement he makes, softening at the sight of him being so genuinely upset about this. He wears his heart on his sleeve, he plasters it to his big forehead and when you're around, he forces it into your hands and you're not about to break it now. 

A breathless giggle slips from your mouth, and you manoeuvre your body so your head lays atop his lap now. He's pouting, and he doesn't hesitate before running his fingers through your hair, combing through any tangles. It's his love language, you know that.

You try to say something, anything to salve over the sour expression on his face. But he must have had the wrong idea because before you start to run your mouth, Bakugou covers your mouth again, against your muffled protestations. He glares at you from above and leans down to talk.

"I'm serious, shut the fuck up, because it's not fuckin’ true. I don't give a fuck if the multiverse is infinite, there'll never be a universe that exists in which I wouldn't fuckin’ love you. Because if every choice I make leads to another verse then there's nothing I wouldn't fuckin’ do to make sure that in every single life I have, I'd end up with you."

Oh.

You feel silly now that he said that. The fact that you even considered such an outrageous idea was stupid. You forget who you're dealing with. You forget that there are two of you, and the universe is no match against the force that is Bakugou Katsuki. What he wants, he gets. And it's no secret that he really only ever wanted you.

"You said it yourself, it's infinite. So it's not implausible that there'd be multiple versions of myself tracking down every life where there wasn't an us. I'd still love you, always, even if I didn't know you yet, so I'll just have to get myself to find you in every single life. Everywhere, anywhere— I'll find you, I promise."

Oh. 

"So, if God forbid, there was such a cruel universe that you and I never met, then I'd jump verses for us and make us meet. Simple as that. You need me to use bigger words to get it through your thick skull, huh? Me and you, we're- we're boundless, cosmic, never-ending. It was always meant to be, the two of us. So stop fuckin' crying already, the only thing that's actually infinite here, is you and I, alright?"

Your eyes glass over, and then it shatters but you're tearing up for completely different reasons now. Not unexpectedly, Bakugou's right. He always is, and that's not unusual. Not when he says things like that, not when he shuts down every doubt you ever had in your head with a few simple words.

Reaching up to slip a hand behind his hair, you cradle his head in your palm. Bakugou relaxes, lets his cheek press into your palm and watches the affection dance in the colour of your eyes. You press a kiss into his palm, the one covering your mouth still, and watch the tip of his ears blush. He removes his hand then, letting it rest on your stomach.

He's right, of course he is. You let the worthless thoughts of the possibility of him and you ever ceasing to exist pour out of your mind. The ever-consuming fondness, the warmth associated with Katsuki and the love you have for him— it all takes up more than enough space in your head and in your heart. It leaves no room for any uncertainty.

But you're just as hot-headed and stubborn as he is, and you refuse to let him have the last word. And so you let your teeth sink into your lip, biting back a wild grin, you pull him down quickly by his hair. Kissing Katsuki never gets old, you think. It's always the same warm pair of lips against yours; a familiar dance.

So you lose yourself in the moment— you let Katsuki kiss you all soft and slow and lasting. He licks into your mouth and it shouldn't be as sweet as it is but it feels like it anyway. Laughter bubbles out of you, unbidden but not unwanted, and he grins against your mouth. 

The whole situation was ridiculous, how a simple question had spiralled into Bakugou confessing his quite literal undying love for you. It was both so in and out of character of him that you had to giggle. He wasn't fazed by your interruption, he smiled all the same against your mouth, kissing you despite your open mouth and laughter. 

And later, when the sun recedes and the moonlight pours into your window, it'll be quiet in the room Bakugou sleeps in with you. The only noise coming from the creaky ceiling fan. His arm finds its place, as always, around your middle— holding you like a heartbeat (constant, everpresent).

In the solitude under your covers, you find yourself admiring a privilege you never really realised you had. Bakugou's fast asleep next to you, his blonde unruly hair fans out against his pillow not like a halo. He's not that graceful, but his usually scrunched-up face was now relaxed. His expression is void of anything tense, practically defenceless laying next to you.

You weren't lying when you said he wore his heart on his sleeve. He's harsh and intimidating to the public eye, but when it comes to you, all his walls go down. It's unnecessary to be so guarded with you, not when he trusts you with his life, though he won't say it (he doesn't need to).

It's inexplicable, the way you feel your chest clench looking at him. It's a privilege; to get to be loved by him and to love him in return. It's something you take for granted, and you won't say it out loud lest you upset him again, but you think of a different life in which you're not allowed to do this. A life where Katsuki wouldn't tenderly kiss you on a beaten-up couch, where he wouldn't tangle his legs in between yours and fall asleep next to you. It's pointless to think about. He said it himself, it'll never happen anyway.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you lean over him and press a soft, lingering kiss to his hair. Bakugou smiles, and you lean in closer to whisper very softly, so you won't wake him, "I promise, I'll find you as well. Anywhere, everywhere, in all my lives, okay?"

Katsuki has a sixth sense, a you-sense, and he's sound asleep but somehow he understood what you've just said. He tightens his arm around your waist unconsciously, and you feel relentlessly and irrevocably in love with him, even though it's been so long, the feeling never wavers or wanes. It stays buzzing in your veins, a constant ebbing flow.

You fall asleep quietly.

[urtheloml]

cosmically in love with you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The stranger gasps indignantly.

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

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

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

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

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

They, in fact, do not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah. I hope you're first."

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

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

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, even then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

hello alien man HIIIII!!!!!!!

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

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

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

coming over rn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're the only one I wanted to tell.

Oh.

Oh.

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

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever.

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

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

"Shit. Thanks, Iwa-chan."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're jealous."

"Fuck off."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck your commitment issues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[urtheloml]

bind your love (to me)

pairing: ishigami senku x asagiri gen w/c: 700+ synopsis: senku thinks gen is stupid. then again, he's quite the idiot in love when it comes to gen anyway. a/n: short sengen drabble i wrote in like,,, 20 minutes bc for the life of me, i cannot stop thinking about these two. also, no capitalisation. also also, school is kicking my ass but i have an oikawa fic in the making lol <3

he built me this telescope. with his own two hands. ishigami senku thought fondly as his eyes glazed over the same stars for the fifth time that night.

it was strange. he was barely focusing on charting the stars. his mind was still whirring at speeds incomprehensible, but his head was somewhere else. or. filled with someone else. as it always was.

asagiri gen. the world's shallowest man as he liked to refer to himself. senku thought he was full of shit for keeping that facade up, as if gen hasn't gone through hell and back for the sake of his village.

speaking of gen, the two-tone haired man currently had his head in senku's lap. despite senku's half-assed protest, he'd never kick him off. senku glanced down at the sheet of paper near his feet, scribbled with lines and numbers of the new aged nightlights but he couldn't really focus on that.

"senku-chan, lend me your pocket knife please," gen hummed, breaking senku out of his trance.

without even thinking about it, senku gently pressed the handle of the knife into gen's palm. he doesn't have to ask him why, he never does, that's the amount of trust he has in him.

gen loves that. gen loves that senku doesn't question him when he doesn't need to. gen loves that senku lets him lay in his lap, even if he is exceptionally awkward with physical contact. gen loves senku, that't it.

gen quickly gets to work. carving out something short and sweet into the floorboard of their observatory. their observatory. a place, just for the two of them. a sanctuary that he built with his own two hands just because he wanted senku to feel like he was home again. just because.

senku never glances down. not even once as gen carves and shaves out the wood on the ground. he knows gen will tell him once he's done. instead he looks back at the sky. sometimes it makes him sad to think that the direction of the northern star has changed after 3000 years but then again, there's nothing he can do about it but move on. so he does. charting new stars and calculating things gen could never think of doing himself.

senku rubs his eyes, phosphenes. he sees them, little zigzags and squiggles as his eyes shut tight. and when he opens them up, gen seems to have finished his work of art.

as gen puts the 'finishing touches' over whatever he's carving out, senku looks back to the sky. he figures him and gen are quite similar to the things he's observing. stars. more specifically, binary stars. he remembers reading about them. a long time ago when books were still around. binary stars is a system of two stars that are gravitationally bound to and in orbit around each other. he thinks, in this life, in his past life and in any other life that'll come, surely he and gen are bound to one another. and if not, then it must be a mistake for him to be alive.

"senku-chan, you can look now!"

huffing to himself, senku looks down to where gen has carved out, "SENKU + GEN" and shaped a heart over the words. warmth blooms in his chest, and he'd never admit it but he's so glad for the semi-darkness around them because the gen would make fun of how his cheeks turn a little rosy.

"mentalist that's the cringiest thing you've ever done," senku deadpans.

for a moment, gen's heart drops and he's about to scratch the carving out when senku snatches the knife from his hold to write over his words. gen pouts at him because he won't let him see it.

"there, i fixed it."

and really, gen should've known senku would try to one up him even when they're having a moment. scrunching his nose, he tells senku that your addition made it even more gross, before tangling his hands into his stupid hair and pulling him in close.

binary stars. in this life and every one after that. ishigami senku and asagiri gen will always find their way back to each other.

senku traces over the carving as gen falls asleep on top of him, the sheet of paper long since crumpled.

SENKU + GEN 4EVA

[urtheloml]

heartbreak boy

pairing: miya atsumu x reader w/c: 8k synopsis: miya atsumu— your personal heartbreak boy. being in love with your best friend is tiring but maybe a school concert will help. a/n: happy new year! i hope everyone has a great 2022. this fic means a lot to me because Atsumu is just so <33 also, this is a songfic (ish??) based of Heartbreak Girl by 5SOS. BUT DON'T WORRY IT'S FLUFFY N THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING!

Miya Atsumu is a beast—at least, on court he is. He’s intense and analytical, he’s focused and dedicated to playing his best. He’s committed to being the best that he can. Miya Atsumu never slacks off when it comes to volleyball, he’s powerful and a try-hard, he’s simply one of the finest players out there.

Off court though, he’s none of those things.

Okay, more like, he’s very much lesser of those qualities. It’s not like he’s failing his classes or anything like that. It’s just that, well, he’s an idiot. That’s the bottom line. He’s an oblivious, whiny, borderline obnoxious little brat, honestly.

You’ve been his best friend since the first day of high school, hell, maybe even before that. You went to the same middle school and even then, the two of you were somewhat friends. In your first year of high school, you and the twins were grouped together for some class project and from there it was history.

Thinking about it now, you can’t seem to recall a moment in the past three years where Miya Atsumu wasn’t there. On the way to class? He was there, running past you and tousling your hair, and you’d scream hey! and he'd scream back. Walking out the gates? He was there, and he’d walk you home despite your protests. During lunch? On the weekends and even holidays? He was there, there, there! If he wasn’t physically next to you, he’d be blowing up your phone.

When he starts becoming such a constant in your life, it was hard to pretend that you weren’t so wholly and irrevocably head over heels for him. How could you not be? He was one of your best friends, though you’d never tell him that, his ego is big enough thank you very much.

You’ve seen him at his worst, when he was sobbing into your couch after losing a volleyball match or whenever he fought with Osamu and he’d tearfully tell you what happened on your doorstep even though it was close to midnight. Because Miya Atsumu may fight a lot with his twin but at the end of the day, he feels it the most whenever they don’t get along.

But, you’ve seen him at his best too. When he’d score the winning point in a game and he’d beam at you. When he does particularly well on a class test, he turns to you expecting a high-five. When he and Osamu manage a new move, he would run up to you, smiling like a puppy, saying did you see that? Did you see that! (you’re always watching, he should know that.)

It goes both ways too.

He's seen you at your worst. When you cried snottily over films and failed tests, he'd let you bury your face into his thigh and he'd watch the dumbest shows with you, because he knows you like them and for you he'd do anything. He's seen you at your best as well— when you wore an outfit that made you feel good and when you were laughing so hard you almost threw up.

You've traded so many little snippets of your lives without even knowing it.

So of course, it was inevitable for you to start falling for him.

Three years is a long time to be in love with someone, it just makes it hurt that much more when your feelings clearly aren't reciprocated. Osamu, however, tells you not to worry. Suna tells you the same thing and on the rare occasions you bump into your ex-senior, Kita, he seems to tell you the same thing as well— that Atsumu will come around sooner or later. Part of this makes you feel a million times better, but the fact that apparently everyone but the object of your affections seems to know about your feelings hurts like a punch to your gut.

The thing that hurts the worst is-

"Yer never gonna believe this! It happened again an' I swear this time I was careful too."

Miya Atsumu unceremoniously barges into your living room and with no regard to the fact that you were in the middle of a Harry Potter movie marathon, he plops himself down right next to you on your couch. Sighing, you pause the movie and turn to your teary-faced best friend. He's already made himself comfortable too, he's stolen your blanket to cover his body. His piss-haired head finding solace on your lap.

Unconsciously, or maybe naturally, your hands start carding through his faux-blond locks, wanting to soothe him. Atsumu sniffles and the fabric under his eyes dampens a bit, but you don't say anything. Really, you'd think he would've learnt his lesson by now, but alas, here he is again, in your home and on your couch and you already know what he's about to say.

"It's not ma fault, m'telling ya. She said she couldn't handle ma 'busy' schedule then she told me she wasn't even that into me in the first place an' then she dumped me right there, in the middle of the movie! Can ya believe that! Even 'Samu wouldn't treat me that rudely, ya feel me?"

Nodding, you placate him by agreeing and with a numbness surrounding your heart, you recite your lines perfectly— it's always the same thing anyway, it's always I'm sorry 'Tsummie, you didn't deserve that. Don't worry, you'll find someone who'll treat you real good soon, 'kay? Next time, choose them really really really carefully!

Content with your words, he nods into your thigh and resumes the movie. The two of you are silent after that, and with your hand still patting his head, you begin to think back to all the times he's done this to you in the past three years.

The first time it happened, you were a first year and he had shown up on your doorstep near midnight. After all this time, you never asked him why you were the first person he went to after he got dumped in a Burger King. All you knew was that he looked so pathetic pitiful, standing there in front of your door that you had to let him in.

The two of you had only really hit it off a few months ago which is why you found it absurd that he came to you of all people. He made a laughable attempt to appear unbothered, you ushered him in and let him face plant into your couch and then he started talking and talking and talking. Mind you, it was midnight and he just kept rambling on and on and maybe that was when you started to fall for him.

Sure, he may have been talking about some other girl who had crushed his heart but the fact remains that he showed up at your doorstep to find some comfort in you. And that mattered more than anything else. He went on to tell you about how his date told him he talked too much (gasp) and how he wasn't attentive enough to her. And you listened, despite the fact that you were tired. Maybe that's what it meant to be in love.

"'Tsum, she sounds like she only wanted you as arm candy." You remembered telling him. "Why'd you even agree to go out with her?"

"Because she asked me." He had answered innocently, simple and to the point and that was the first time your heart was hurt for someone else's behalf.

From the way you've seen Atsumu treat his 'fans', you'd think the lot of them would be much too intimidated to ask him out. And you'd be right. Most of his admirers don't actually do much more than show up to his games but there's always a handful of them each year who dare go up to the setter himself and ask for a date.

That is Miya Atsumu's Achilles' heel— that he blindly accepts whoever's willing to take him. Atsumu isn't stupid, he told you one night that he's more than aware of how he treats his fans (they have ta know not to bug me when I serve). He told you that was why he went out with that girl.

Fast forward three years and he's still exactly the same. Every girl who plucks up the courage to throw themselves at him, he'll take them in with open arms just for them to break his heart every single time. And each time, he'll end up in your house, next to you and in your arms and he still won't get it.

Maybe it does only happen a handful of times every few months, but it's happened enough times for you to get fucking sick of it. It's happened so often that you had to turn to his own brother after he leaves you alone just to let it all out. Osamu knows you're in love with his stupid brother and he feels bad that you're dealing with Atsumu's antics so he lets you rant to him after Atsumu rants to you. It's like a cycle at this point.

You've heard the same excuses countless times at this point. If Atsumu wasn't being used for clout, he was dumped because he was too preoccupied with volleyball and if it wasn't that then the girls simply got tired of him and moved on. You feel for him, you really do— you've even cried with him at times— but if he does this one more time, you might just snap. A girl can only take so much before she cracks and you've taken one too many hits to your heart.

Atsumu nudges your stomach, snapping you out of your thoughts. 'M okay now, so 'm just gonna go, he tells you quietly as if he didn't just break your heart for the third time that year. You feel yourself nodding but your mind is miles away. The second he leaves, your thumb presses on Osamu's contact in your phone.

"'Samu! Why'd you let him come here?!"

"I'd rather he bug you than me, that's why."

Burying your face in your blanket (it smells of Atsumu, you breathe it in) you begin to talk.

Atsumu reaches home and his heart feels like it's being weighed down by stones. Entering his room, he sees his brother on the phone. Who ya talkin' ta, he asks. Osamu side-eyes at him, tells him it's just a friend and looks away. Atsumu shrugs, indifferent, but when Osamu hangs up later and he steals a glance at his phone, an uneasy feeling settles in his stomach when he reads the contact name.

"Why didn't ya tell me it was her ya were talkin ta?"

"Didn't think it would have made a difference."

Atsumu furrows his brows at that. An ugly feeling, something green and gross leaves itself rotting within himself and he doesn't know why. Why should it bother him that you and his brother are talking, the two of you are friends and friends talk to each other, he reasons. He goes to sleep that night without wishing Osamu goodnight.

You, on the other hand, barely got any sleep at all. Osamu's words spin around your mind. What do I do about this, you had asked the grey-haired twin. 'M gonna be honest with ya, alright. The only way ta get over him, is ta tell him, an' ya have ta be straight up with that dumbass, just tell him ta his ugly face that yer into him, he had told you, obviously forgetting that they shared the same face.

Maybe you will tell him the truth soon.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Two weeks later, Atsumu remains hung up over his horrible breakup. He mopes around his house, around your house and even in school all because of it. He's all whiny and needy, more than usual at least, and rumour has it (read: Suna) he's not been focusing on the court either.

It's a normal Wednesday night when you hear your doorbell ring. The Miya twins grace you with their presence, Osamu stands before you, face screwed up in frustration while fisting the back of Atumu's shirt. Atsumu's pouting, annoyed that he was dragged here, and his gaze never leaves the floor.

"Take him. Take him an' deal with him right now before I kill him." Is all he says before stomping away from you.

Huffing, you pull Atsumu inside and let him fall onto your couch. He refuses to meet your eyes, let alone talk. It's surprising, because all week you've been trying to get him to shut up.

"'Tsummie." No response.

"Atsumu," you say firmly, but your voice colours with warmth (as it always does when you say his name).

Atsumu finally looks up and his shoulders sag with relief when he sees you looking at him. No contempt or irritation to be seen in your face, only soft adoration. He doesn't know that of course.

"'Tsummie. What's going on, bub?"

Atsumu deflates, he fiddles with your blanket before mumbling, "Nothin'. 'M just upset, is all. It's like, I haven’t found the right girl since we were sixteen an' it's like— it seems that 'm always the problem. An' it's like everyone's tryna tell me ta open ma eyes but I don't know what 'm supposed ta see. I don't know what 'm doing wrong"

Atsumu runs a hand down his face, looking at you depressedly. "Do ya think it's me? Maybe 'm just not cut out for this relationship thing."

Over the years, an accumulation of all your feelings for Atsumu has formed a string so long inside of your heart that it's started to coil. To make room, of course. And each time you're hurt by him, it uncoils and uncoils and right now, it's barely even a thread.

He lifts his face up and sighs woefully, "Agh, why can't I just find someone like- someone like ya, ya know?"

The thread snaps.

"'Tsum- Atsumu. Why... why do you have to find someone like me?"

He furrows his brows and looks at you as if it should be obvious. "Well yer ma best friend."

"No, that's not what I meant. Why find someone like me, why not- why not just me?"

Atsumu lips curl up a bit. "Whaddya mean?"

"Well, instead of looking for someone like me, why not just date... me?"

Atsumu sits up then, looking at you as if you've grown a second head and the silence is deafening. It's so quiet, you think he could probably hear the thundering of your heart. Maybe that's why you were hesitant to confess in the first place. Falling in love with someone is so scary, because you're giving them every opportunity to take your heart in their hands and it's not up to you if it gets broken or cradled. And right now, Miya Atsumu is crushing your heart into a million pieces as the silence drags on. You're about to say something when you hear it.

A tinkle.

Bubbles of giggles burst out of Atsumu and he clutches his stomach as it turns into hysterical laughter. Coldness seeps into your body as you watch him lose it, your face blank.

He's laughing. You just confessed and he thinks it's a joke, great. This is your karma for something you've done in a past life, you're sure of it. Atsumu finally stops laughing after a minute or two and he slaps a heavy hand on your back.

"Wow, ya really got me there. For a second there, I thought ya were serious."

Tears prick the side of your eyes, hot and stinging and there's a vice grip of steel wire within your throat and you will yourself not to cry in front of him. Swallowing, you hiccup, "Yeah, yeah that was real funny."

Ah, the tears seem to have a mind of their own because they fall anyway.

Atsumu backtracks, he stutters and splutters and he goes hey, what's wrong as if he didn't just laugh in your face.

Huffing wetly, you pull him off your couch by his collar, ignoring his yelps of protest. "Get out of my house please, and quit using me, 'Tsumu. It hurts and I'm tired of you using me as your personal outlet everytime you go on a bad date, okay? Go bother someone else because I'm done listening to you tonight, alright?" And with that, you've pushed him out of your door and you slam it shut, hoping it hits him on the way out.

Do you know that feeling when you're rollerblading and you're going way too fast and you already know you're about to fall? That's what this feels like. Even though you knew it'd be like this, even though you anticipated the rejection— it hurts all the same. It goes to show that it'll hurt either way, even if you did see it coming.

Once he's gone, you throw yourself onto your bed and let the tears fall freely. Your pillow feels soaked when you finally lose consciousness. You're not sure if you can face Atsumu tomorrow so you feign being sick and you hope that when you return, you'll be able to act normally.

Somewhere else, Atsumu trudges home with a conflicted heart. His chest tightens every time he recalls the sad look on your face. He thinks he messed up big time, but he just doesn't know why. And later, when he tells 'Samu about it and he gets yelled at for 'being the densest fucking idiot in the universe', it just leaves him feeling even more confused. Osamu tells him to stop hurting your feelings and he doesn't have it in him to do much more than nod.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

Unfortunately, your plan doesn't work as well as you hoped it did. Because the second you return to school, Atsumu's there, as he always is but there’s still some leftover hurt inside you. He's still your best friend, even if you are mad at him. What's worse is that he doesn't understand why you're upset so it would be a bit unfair for you to ignore him.

He's looking at you, all doe-eyed and nervous, unlike the cocky person you know he makes himself out to be and you can't help but soften a bit. He shrinks a little under your glare but you don't think there'll ever be a time where you won't forgive 'Tsummie, even if he did laugh at your attempt to confess. So you tell him to forget what happened on that fateful Wednesday night, and Atumu's a little stupid so he blissfully goes along with it.

It hurts, stings even, when he acts so normally afterwards like he didn't just make you cry for six hours straight. It hurts when he smiles at you and slings an arm around your neck and he doesn't realise that you're not pushing back into him like you'd usually do.

Anyway, when he leaves for practice later, you're all set to go back to crying in your room when Osamu pulls you aside right before you exit the school gates. The conversation that follows leaves you lightheaded but the idea that he suggests to you does sound like it would finally work. The conversation goes as follows:

"So are ya gonna do it?" Osamu raises an eyebrow at you.

"What are you talking about, 'Samu?"

"Were ya not listenin' during assembly? The principal was talkin' 'bout that concert thing for us graduating seniors." He says, as if whatever it is he's talking about should be obvious to you.

"Uh-huh, what about it?" You try not to be offended when Osamu rolls your eyes at you.

"'M sayin'," he huffs, "This is yer chance! I know yer obviously aren't over ma brother and I know yer aren't that bad with the mic. Pick a song, Suna an' I will help ya, we'll be a shit band but it'll work."

And then he left, leaving you thinking about his words. You don't know if you should trust Miya Osamu, though, because he said being direct with Atsumu would work and look where that's landed you. But then again, it is your last year in high school, maybe you should go out with a bang. Thinking about it, with him on the drums and Suna on guitar, maybe you just could pull it off.

Later that night, you shoot Osamu a quick text: Let's do it. I know just the song.

You receive the thumbs up emoji in return and you go to sleep that night, feeling slightly more hopeful than ever. Closing your eyes, you try to picture Atsumu's face in your head when you perform. Would he smile and finally get it? Would he run onto the stage and pull you into his arms like you've always wanted him to since forever? Or maybe, he won't like it at all. Whatever it is, you can't wait to find out.

The concert's in three weeks so your makeshift band, Chuupet Three (courtesy of Suna Rintarou), sets aside a good amount of time everyday to rehearse. By rehearse you mean, playing Mario Kart for two hours and half assing the actual practicing for the rest of the hour. Despite your pathetic attempts to make the rehearsals productive, you have to agree with Osamu when he says that the three of you do sound relatively good.

There's just one problem: keeping this band a secret from Atsumu.

Which is difficult considering that one of the members lives with him. Which begins the tiresome effort to make sure he definitely doesn't find out about you and the band. Because you already know he's going to a: flip out and try to join it or b: flip out and throw a tantrum and both options sound terrible, so it's imperative for the you to keep the band a secret.

You're all running out of excuses though, because how many more chuupets does Suna need to buy and what secret errands are Osamu running for his mother and why do you have to help your neighbour right now?

And of course, the universe decides to fuck you over, like it does to everyone else. And lo and behold, Miya Atsumu strolls into the room, halfway through your song. Osamu loses his grip on his drumsticks, Suna stops strumming and your voice cracks on the last note. Pin drop silence.

"'Sumu- we can explain," Osamu starts but Atsumu’s not even looking at him. No, he's looking at you and you swear you've never seen his eyes that full of betrayal, even when he was dumped in the middle of a movie.

"'Tsummie- please, hear me out," you try reaching out to him but he steps away from you as though your touch burns him, and then your heart breaks all over again.

Atsumu's been hurt a lot in his life. Whenever his mother wouldn't believe him every time Osamu did something bad when they were children, whenever his teammates in middle school would talk about him behind his back, whenever he got dumped for the stupidest things but this. This hurts way worse, he feels.

Because maybe he expected this from his brother, even suna, but never you. Because you were the first person who stuck up for him when he fought with his twin, because you're the one who kissed his head when you thought he was asleep, and you had said you're not annoying, 'Tsummie, not even a little bit, my starboy and you were supposed to be his best friend. So how come it's become like this?

Chasing after him, you call out his name hoping he'll stop. And thank God he does. He's not looking at you, he's looking at the ground as if something on the earth would save him from the burning sensation of humiliation in his stomach.

You're about to say something when he whispers out, "Ya know, if ya didn't want me ta be a part of yer band, ya could've just told me. Or if ya thought I was insufferable too, ya could've told me. Ya could've just told me that I wasn't," his voice cracks, "that I wasn't good enough." And then he finally meets your gaze, but this time you wish he hadn't, because you already know how lethal his tear streaked face is, and it kills you a thousand times over knowing you're the cause of it.

A part of you, a small tiny insignificant part of you, feels just a little bit smug because maybe now he'll understand how it feels to get your heart broken by the one person you trusted the most. But that part of you couldn't overpower the rest of your soul that aches to gather him into your arms and piece him back together again. A privilege, however, that isn't yours.

Atsumu takes your silence as an answer and walks away. You don't chase after him.

Heartache isn't a feeling Atsumu's unfamiliar with. He's known it for years. He knows how losing a match point, how failing a quiz he studied real hard for and how getting tossed aside when someone deems him unimportant— he knows all these things can make his chest tighten and make his breathing go ragged.

But this? His closest friend, his brother, and most of all you're excluding him from your activities, it hurts so much more. He thinks it's because he never thought this would happen again. He thought the days of loneliness where he was isolated and left out and people pretended to like him— he thought he left that all in middle school. He thought he finally found a group of people who liked him for him. No secrets, nothing. Well, turns out he was wrong after all.

"Oi, that's ma bed yer on." Osamu says as he strolls into their room.

Atsumu doesn't bother replying. He buries his face in Osamu's pillow and rubs his snot all over it before climbing down to lay in his own bed.

"Alright, guess I deserved that." Osamu says, mildly disgusted. He sighs before sitting down next to his dumb twin. As much as they fight over petty things, it hurts Osamu just as much whenever they're actually mad at each other, especially if it's his fault. Osamu sighs obnoxiously before leaning back all the way, laying his body over his brother's back despite Atsumu's noise of protests.

Atsumu squirms and struggles under Osamu, his bad mood already wearing off a little bit. He stills completely when Osamu reaches out a hand to tug at his hair softly before telling him, "I know yer mad, 'Sumu. 'M sorry for lying ta ya, really. But I promise we didn't exclude ya 'cause of whatever yer thinking. It's all part of a plan, or more like a surprise if 'm being honest."

Atsumu still doesn't say anything, but he nods and hums and he feels much calmer. Seemingly pacified with his words, Osamu gives his brother a noogie before climbing up to his own bed. G'night, he hears atsumu grumble from below him. Smiling, he answers back.

Pacing your room back and forth, you hope Atsumu will forgive you the next day. You even prepared his favourite food to win him over— fatty tuna onigiri. Luckily, it does manage to tide him over a bit. He sits with you during recess and munches contentedly on the rice balls. You're happy that he's apparently not upset with you anymore, but the feeling dissipates a second later when he leaves right after he finishes eating.

You don't see him in the corridors and he won't look at you in class or even when you sit in during his practices. He's acting as if your presence isn't there at all and that's so- petty- yeah alright, that sounds like him. It still sucks though, because he can't just rudely insert himself into every aspect of your life and then just leave all of a sudden, that's gonna give you some serious Atsumu withdrawal symptoms.

It's the night before the concert that you finally decide to text him. Because tomorrow is your last shot and he has to listen. So you text him and hopes he'll at least agree to listen during your performance.

tsummie, why r u avoiding me :( didn't think you'd still be mad

Not mad. Osamu told me your performance was a 'surprise' so I thought staying away would help you

oh. okay but i miss you annoying me :) make sure you watch me tmrw alright!!! and i mean properly listen please >:((

don't be silly, you know i'm always watching you.

And it's things like this that sparks a little glimmer of hope within you, that he might just feel the same if he knew what you've been trying to say all this time. Smiling at his last text, you go to sleep hoping tomorrow's the day everything will change— for the better.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

The concert's in full swing. The crowd's going wild at every performance, even if the group did kinda suck and did it for jokes, the students loved it. Maybe it's the nostalgia and the fact that it's their last year in high school, it's the energy building up and releasing. The fact helps you calm down, knowing that even if you do mess up, they probably won't care.

Maybe it's not even the crowd you're worrying about. There's only one single person you care about liking your song. Which is why you hope to God that he listens, you hope to God he's watching, like he says he's always done. Your turn's almost up and you glance at Osamu who looks unbothered but you know he's a bit nervous because he keeps tugging at a loose string on his shirt. There's only one person in your group who's actually uncaring about this whole thing. Probably because he bet Osamu $20 that the plan's not gonna work., much to your dismay.

It's time. Shaking your hands and pumping yourself up, you call the two boys over. In a group huddle, the three of you say the stupid band name before entering the stage. For the last time, you're about to lay your heart out on the line, you're about to take a leap of faith and either you're going to fall or he's gonna catch you and you wish more than anything that it'll be the latter.

Looking down at the audience, you spot him in the midst of the crowd almost immediately. His stupid blond hair calls out to you each time, and your eyes always search for him in everywhere you go anyway. He's staring at you, lips curled up into a wide smile and he's already going wooo even though you haven't even started.

Target acquired, your eyes lock onto his, and with your gazes secure, you say into the microphone, "This song is dedicated to Miya Atsumu— my heartbreak boy."

Immediately afterwards, Osamu's guitar picks up and Suna starts the beat and it's going to work, you know it will. With a shaky voice you start singing the first verse and please, let him be listening.

You call me up It's like a broken record Saying that your heart hurts That you'll never get over him getting over you And you end up crying And I end up lying 'Cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do

And when then phone call finally ends You say "Thanks for being a friend" And I'm going in circles again and again

As you go into the chorus, you hope he realises that it's the perfect song. It's as if it was tailor made for you and him, just like how he's tailor made for you. You know he is. Even if he does cry over stupid girls who'll never treat him half as right as you could, as you've always done. He's the one for you because only your sugar coated lies made him feel better all those nights. Even though it was the furthest thing from what you wish you could've said.

I bite my tongue But I wanna scream out You could be with me now But I end up telling you what you wanna hear But you're not ready And it's so frustrating He treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair

And when the phone call finally ends You say "I'll call you tomorrow at 10" And I'm stuck in the friendzone again and again

Since you've started singing, you've looked anywhere but at Atsumu's face. You know if you look too soon, his reaction could totally throw you off so you'll save that bit for last. The second verse hits you the hardest because it's so true isn't it? In your mind, there’s a replay of every single time you had to pinch yourself from telling him that he should give you a chance. He gave everyone else a chance, so why not you? Why not you, who's been there since the beginning, who always puts lemon in his water bottles because you know he likes it that way.

I know someday it's gonna happen And you'll finally forget the day you met him Sometimes I'm so close to confession I gotta get it through your head That you belong with me instead

Your voice cracks on that last line. This is you last chance to drill your feelings into Miya Atsumu's stupidly thick skull and if this fails, well, you'll never let anyone say you didn't try. And when it's time for the final chorus, you swallow down your spit and every other inhibition within yourself and force your eyes to stare straight at him, just in case he needs a little more reassurance.

I dedicate this song to you The one who never sees the truth That I can take away you hurt Heartbreak girl Hold you tight straight through the daylight I'm right here, when you gonna realise That I'm your cure Heartbreak girl

At this point, you're basically almost half screaming because that's what it takes to convey this message. And as you belt out the last line, your eyes start tearing up and your voice wobbles but you do not look away from him and neither does he and you think, yes, maybe this is the moment. He's looking at you like he finally gets it, at least that's what you hope that face means.

Miya Atsumu is a beast. He's calculative and intense and overbearing, sometimes even scary. That's on the court though. Off-court, however, he's proven himself to be quite the idiot. But right now, in this moment, with you plastering your heart like a neon sign on your forehead, he finally understands. He's not crying, not yet. His eyes are wet and he knows you can tell. He gives you a watery smile and cheers for you like crazy as you pack your set up. Your feelings and everything else you've been meaning to say, it’s been received. And so, he bolts.

You take one last look at the crowd, you glance down and just as quickly as your heart soared— it drops just as fast. Miya Atsumu is no longer in the audience and neither is he scrambling to meet you backstage. Osamu and Suna exchange sympathetic looks. Behind the curtains, Osamu shakes his head and slips Suna the $20. Behind the curtains, you leave your heart on the stage.

If being that direct still didn't work, maybe it was time to give up on your starboy.

⚝ ⚝ ⚝

It's as if the world saw this coming because the second you start to walk home, rain starts falling. The sound of thunder resonates with your gloomy feelings and when lightning strikes overhead, you hope it hits you. It's a good thing as well, since now no one can tell if you're crying

But you do cry all the way home. Your feet feels like lead, weighing you down as you trudge into the shower. You cry in the shower too and when you accidentally knock your soap bottle to the ground, you think it's a metaphor for how the night went. Crying makes you lightheaded and you can't seem to think straight, which is why you cry even harder when you realise that you've somehow ironically ended up wearing one of 'Tsumu's old t-shirt. It's ratty and so worn out but faintly, like it shoudn't even be there, his scent lingers. The fabric falls to your thighs, it's so big and warm and if you inhale deep enough, it'll feel like he's there.

There’s a knock on your door. You tell your mom you're not hungry (crying made you lose your appetite) but the knocking continues anyway. With a heavy sigh, you drag yourself to the door to tell your mom that-

Oh.

There, in all his six foot glory is a very wet Miya Atsumu, your very own heartbreak boy, holding what seems to be a medium-sized wooden box in his hands.

Before he even gets the chance to open his big mouth, you shut the door in his face. Or, at least you try to. But he's an athlete and his reflexes are much faster. He shoves his foot in between the door and barges in, uninvited as always.

"Listen, angel, please," and that makes you stop for a moment because he hasn't called you that since you were sixteen. You don't why he stopped calling you it. (What if i called ya Angel, huh? It'll be like that One Direction song yer always listenin' ta.)

"Alright, angel, ya have every right ta tell me ta shut up an' leave an' never talk to ya again but- just. Just hear me out, five minutes, that's all."

And he looks so worried. You've never seen him look this worried honestly. Even after he loses a game, he appears disappointed but never worried because he knows that there’ll be future chances to redeem himself when it comes to volleyball but this? A chance with you, finally? There’s no guarantee you’ll forgive him, there’s no certainty that you’ll give him a chance and that’s terrifying.

Looking away, you sit down on the bed with a huff. He stands in front of you, face hopeful when you say go on. And then he starts rambling, just like he did that night he first came to you. He reaches inside the box and pulls out receipts from grocery stores and movie tickets and... candy wrappers? He pulls out origami cranes that look familiar and you're starting to think he's just trying to trash your room when it hits you— straight through the heart, it hits you— he's pulling out every single little trinket that he got each time he went out with you over the years.

"It never occured ta me- it never hit me until I heard ya sing but I fuckin' realised- I realised how in love I am with ya. An'-an' I know yer probably not- ya probably think 'm lying but I swear, God, I swear 'm not," and then he says your name like it makes him ache, "I never really thought about this because it was something so- so habitual for me but- every single time we went out I kept the receipts. Even when it was just a late night run ta the diner or just- just goin' ta the grocery store, I never threw away the receipts, ever. I never threw away our movie tickets or anything ya made for me an' it just hit me then. I never wanted ta throw away these things because they remind me of ya an' everytime I felt sad, I just picked ‘em up an' I felt okay again an' I never wondered why that was until it hit me- I kept these things because they make me remember ya an’ I'm an idiot ta only have realised it now but God, I love ya. It’s only ever been ya."

"It's like, whenever I felt sad, all I had ta do was- like- I take a look at this receipt," he holds up a torn faded blue receipt, one from a late night snack run a couple months ago, "An' I remember how genuinely happy I was feeling at the time. Do ya remember, we bought too many gummies an' we left a pack or two on the street? (You remember.) It makes me feel better every fuckin' time. An'- an' I do that with all these things until I finally realised— every single happy moment of my life, was with you."

"It's not just that either. You were there all the time. When I lost a match or when I won. When I did good on a test, you always high fived me an' if I did bad, you consoled me. You were there when I fought with 'Samu an' when I got- when I got dumped. You were always there, an' 'm sorry I took so long but 'm finally starting ta appreciate how much that means ta me."

Your eyes are watery again. He's staring at you so intensely and he's crying a little too, because his face is wet and it's not just from the rain. His voice is impossibly small and shaky and you can barely hear him as he trembles and whispers, "'M sorry- 'm so sorry. I can't believe I've been so stupid. 'M sorry I wasted yer time an' I've been so unintentionally cruel ta ya so- so if ya don't wanna be with me anymore, that's fine. But I finally get it. I got yer message, 'm sorry it took almost three years but- but I got it an' I love ya, I do, I really really love-"

Oh, Atsumu talks too much. Though, you don't mind listening to the countless apologies spilling out of him. It's a nice change for once. But your heart has a saviour complex solely dedicated towards him, and hearing how absolutely distraught he sounds is making your chest clench painfully.

Standing up, you reach up just to pull him down by his stupid piss hair and you don't care that he's soaked to the bone, you don't care that water is getting all over your floor and you don't care that he's getting you wet too. The only thing that matters in that second, is you and him and how you bring him down to your level so you can finally, finally, press your lips to his.

Kissing him quiet, you laugh a little into him. Because you not wanting to be with him? Impossible. There's never going to be a timeline that exists in which you wouldn't want to be with him.

The wooden box falls to the floor with a clatter. You'll pick it up later.

For now, your hands slide up his back to tangle themselves in his hair and he, in return, wraps his arms around your middle. Pulling you in impossibly closer, closer, closer. Until not even a single atom could come between the two of you. It's perfect, albeit a little messy with the way the water makes the kiss a tad wetter than you'd like. Atsumu tilts his head, just a fraction, and your mouth slots perfectly with his. It's everything you've dreamed about since you were sixteen. Definitely worth the wait.

Kissing Atsumu feels like salvation, being with him, in his arms— pieces back every single part of your heart that he's broken in the past. And when he hugs you close to him, and whispers I love ya, I love ya, I love ya into your hair, he's doing damage control and patching up any leftover cracks. It makes you feel whole.

Kissing you, Atsumu thinks, feels like completion. It’s like finishing a puzzle. It's finding that perfect piece that's been missing all his life and it finally gets slotted into its place. It makes him feel like every time he's been hurt in the past and every time he hurt you has been leading up to this crescendo of emotions he feels every time you exhale into him because he's been given the privilege to love you and to have your unconditional love in return. And knowing that, washes away any feelings of insecurity he used to have about himself. It makes him feel safe.

When you pull away from him, not enough for him to whine but just enough for you to look at him, he's looking at you all starry eyed. His eyes twinkle with unshed tears when he speaks, "'M sorry for not noticing it sooner, angel. 'M a real dummy. Did ya know? Whenever I went on all those awful dates, I always knew I was missin' somethin'"

Thinking about it now, he always compared those girls to you and it never felt right because they weren't you. They were never going to be. If he had to put together the traits and ideals of a perfect woman, she wouldn't even come close to you. It was never going to feel right until he got you, and he can't believe how stupid he's been to not have seen that.

Atsumu sits criss-cross in the middle of your floor, pulling you down with him. His thumb grazes your cheek and he says in hushed words, because it was a secret you were never supposed to know, "'M thinkin' about it now an' I must've put ya through hell. An' 'm sorry for that. But I think I know why none of ma dates ever worked out. It was because none of them were ya, angel. I'd be on those dates an' in ma mind I'd pick apart ma date piece by piece, I was tearin' them down and comparin' them ta ya. An' they always lacked somethin', ya know? It was like 'oh she's not as funny as ya' or 'she doesn't laugh at my jokes an' call me piss-hair' an' it was every single little thing that just added up to them being incomparable to ya. Because it's true, angel, there ain't never gonna be anyone— nobody compares to ya."

Miya Atsumu may be an idiot, but God does he know all the right things to say to make you feel alright again. He looks down at you and says you look cute in his shirt and you might just start crying again because you’ve waited so long.

You force him to take a shower and while he's in it, you put both his and your clothes in the dryer. When the two of you are finally in clean, warm clothes again, Atsumu wipes your floor and makes you eat with him. (Ya have ta eat with me, 'm your boyfriend. It's a rule.)

And later, when he's in your bed, with you laying on top of his chest, he'll gently bring your head down to kiss your temple. It feels like everything's right in the world. The two of you are tangled up in a warm blanket, and you're admiring the way his chest rises and recedes each time he breathes.

When you look up again, your eyes widen in concern when he starts getting all teary again. Gosh, you've had enough crying for today. But your palms cup his face gently anyway, squeezing the fat of his cheeks, your thumbs tenderly swiping away the tears that keep falling. What's going on, baby, you ask him and he dramatically wails even louder.

He says he likes it when you call him that. So you pepper his face with kisses, because you can now, until he's all red and giggly. Sinking into him, your heart flutters when his arms tighten around you even more. Looking at him fondly you mumble, "Miya Atsumu, you really are an idiot. I can't believe it took you so long. I've been in love with you for years, don't you know?"

Atsumu pouts at you and you poke his lips as he murmurs, "Me too! Me too, I swear. It took me some time but I realise it now, I know I love ya so much."

He pulls you in this time, kissing away any remaining feelings of hurt and pain until you're breathless but still going in for more. You're about to smooch him again when he pulls away and frowns at you. You frown back, twirling strands of his hair around your pinky.

"What's the problem now, baby?"

"We've wasted so much time. Too much time. An' it's all ma fault," he mumbles upsetly into your mouth.

Oh. He's such a baby. But you particularly like it when he's like this around you. He's your starboy, your closeted softie of a boyfriend, he's yours, after all. Kissing his nose, and then his forehead and finally his lips, you know just the magic words to make him smile again. And upon hearing what you said, he brightens up immediately and kisses you once, twice and then three times. I love ya, I love ya, I love ya.

"Don't be upset. We've got the rest of our lives, haven't we 'Tsummie?"

[urtheloml]

misfit

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader w/c: 2.3k synopsis: it's been three months since bakugou katsuki kissed you in that dark classroom. consequently, he panics over what to do for the anniversary. a/n: this is a sequel to Little White Lie, but it could be read as a standalone too <3

Bakugou Katsuki rarely does stupid things. Not never, but rarely. This is one of those rare moments, just for you.

“'Tsuki? Is that you?”

Rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes, you awoke to the sound of your bedroom curtains rustling. A suspiciously Bakugou-shaped figure seemed to be making his way through your tiny bedroom window.

“Of course it's me, dumbass. You really shouldn't sleep with your window open, by the way. What if I were a robber, huh?” He says accusingly, and you have to blink twice because he's literally the one invading your room right now-

A disheveled-looking Bakugou finally squeezes himself through the window after a few hilariously tense moments of him struggling. Switching on the small night lamp, light floods your room and you notice there's something off about the way he looks.

Blame it on the bad lighting but his face looks awfully red and... blotchy? It looks like he caught a cold and he's been sneezing the whole day. That seems to be the case because his voice sounds particularly choked up. Sitting up against your pillows, you pat the space next to you. Bakugou shakes his head robotically and stares at you silently and maybe this whole scenario is a dream, you think.

“'Tsuki, it's two in the morning. We have school tomorrow. What's going on?” You're still trying to blink yourself awake and Bakugou thinks if he doesn't say something soon, he'll spontaneously combust at how cute you are when you're so obviously sleepy.

Your boyfriend's acting strange, skittish even, and his eyes bounce around your room, looking anywhere but you. Your boyfriend (wow you love saying that) refuses to meet your eyes and you're getting really freaked out. He takes a deep breath before stepping a foot closer towards your bed. Now that he's closer, you take a real good look at his face and yes, he's probably having a cold, you think. His face looks unnaturally flushed.

Running his hand through his hair, he sniffles, “Yesterday was our 3 month anniversary. And- and you cooked that super spicy curry you know I love, and then- and then you even ate it with me! Even though you're a baby and can't handle that kind of shit at all. And I knew it was an important date but I didn't know what to get you. Then I thought about it some more and I realised it was pretty shitty of me not to give you something in return, you know?”

You do know. Because a part of you felt slightly disappointed when you looked at him expectantly but all you got in return was a blank stare. You had spent the entire night and even got up early to prepare that dish. It wasn't easy either, finding the right spices and adding enough chili to make it just spicy enough for it to really have that kick he loves.

When the two of you ate it together, you practically cried at how hot it was. It was worth it- the tears and the way your tongue felt like it was bleeding. It was worth the stomachache you got because Bakugou had looked at you so adoringly, so fondly as he ate that you didn't really care about the consequences. You'd eat spicy food everyday if you had to, if it meant he always looked at you like that (he always does anyway).

Then afterwards, you looked at him all doe-eyed and antsy, expecting chocolate or even a single flower, anything, but all he did was thank you for the food and that was that. Disappointment weighed heavily like rocks in your stomach but you figured he'd make it up to you another day.

“It was kinda shitty, blasty. Really hurt my feelings, you know,” you lament, nodding your head dramatically and laying it on thick.

Bakugou's mouth twitches, he purses his lips and to anyone else, they'd assume he was annoyed. You know better, you always do, and you know he's biting back a smile. He runs his hand through his hair again, messing it up even further before continuing, “Right, so- so it was shitty of me to- to not give something back and I couldn't fuckin' sleep 'cause I kept thinking about it, y'know? And then I remembered what you told me last week and I knew what I had to dO-,” he sneezes, and then he goes on, “so, I got these for you, because I like you, or whatever.”

As he spoke, he fiddled with his hands, clenching and then unclenching them. And all you could think about was how the dynamic between the two of you had suddenly shifted over the course of these three months. It had shifted, yes, but in so many ways, it stayed completely the same. It's comfortable because of its consistency, but it's also pleasantly unnerving when you think about what has changed.

You and him still bicker like children, every snappy remark of his is met with an equally witty response of yours. He still shoves his better grades in your face and teases you when he does better. He still flicks your forehead whenever he thinks you're being especially stupid and sometimes, it feels like you're back in kindergarten whenever he pulls on your hair, just because he can. Those things- you are familiar with. You've even come to expect them.

Nevertheless, in too many ways, things between him and you have evolved. See, now after every sharp remark, he soothes over the sting with a quick peck to your cheek. Now, he tells you he's joking when he calls you dumb and video calls you for hours on end later on to help you revise because he knows when you're struggling. And now- now, he peppers your head with soft kisses immediately after each flick and he pats your head and pets your hair after tugging on it, because he's still a boy, you see. He's still rowdy with you but as time goes on, he's learning how to be soft with you too.

Sometimes, late at night, you still can't seem to wrap your head around it. Because for as long as you've known him, you'd never think he'd be this tender with someone. And sometimes, you think maybe he didn't quite expect it as well. Because with every loving action he punctuates, his eyebrows raise just a bit. As if he's surprised at himself, as if he's just as startled as you are when he gets so unexpectedly affectionate. But, the more he does them, you think it's becoming less and less unexpected. You welcome the change with open arms.

Bakugou snaps you back to earth with a cough. He shifts from foot to foot and when you tilt your head at him, he discourteously pulls out a crumpled bouquet of flowers. Standing up, you walk up towards him and notice that he's picked out your favourites. You say 'picked out' because it literally looks like he went around looking for them, it looks like he plucked them out from the bare earth but most of all, it looks like he went out of his way to do this just for you at two a.m. on a school night and your heart soars.

Despite the flower's messy appearance, the bouquet looks very pretty. He tied the stems together with twine (even though they looked a bit crushed from how hard he's been grasping at them) and he wrapped them up in some pretty paper, your favourite colour as well. And when you look up from the bouquet to look at him, you feel like you've just gotten the wind knocked out of you. You're absolutely winded at how much love you hold for this stupidly cute boy.

Bakugou, on the other hand, feels like he might die if you don't say something soon. He's looking at you, gauging your reaction and even though your eyes are full of appreciation, he needs to hear you say it. When your small hands wrap around the base of the bouquet, he unconsciously wraps his around yours without a second thought.

With a giddy sensation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, you step even closer to him. With your faces a few inches apart, you whisper imploringly, “'Tsuki. Katsuki, I love them, thank you. But- but 'Tsuki, you're allergic to flowers, you hate them.”

Bakugou's thinks you're being stupid again. Because, “Mhm, I do. I- I do hate flowers, yeah, but I- I love you.”

Oh. It's the first time he's said that out loud, but he's been feeling it for much longer. So this is what all those love songs were talking about, you realise. Bakugou's looking at you, waiting for your response. You wish you could say that you know him like the back of your own palm, but you can't. At least, not yet. You can tell though, because you know him well enough, that despite the closeness between the two of you, despite his steady breathing— you know he's unbelievably nervous.

You gently move away from him, placing the flowers on your nightstand. Turning back to the blond, your hands rise to frame his face, softly cradling his cheeks in your palms. Ruby eyes widen, just a tad, before he lets himself relax in your hold. Sliding your thumbs behind his ears, you smile disbelievingly at what you expose. The apples of his cheeks are lightly splotched with rare hues of pink and red and he's blushing and you think he's the sweetest boy you know, in spite of what anyone else thinks.

He rests his arms loosely around your neck, but he fidgets restlessly with his fingers as you stare at him. Tilting your head, you whisper, like it's a secret and not something so blatantly obvious, “You're awfully nervous right now, 'Tsuki. It's very out of character, you know? Oh, don't scoff at me- I'm kidding, blasty. You don't have to look so scared, baby, don't you already know? 'Tsuki, of course I love you, too.”

You wish you had the courage to say more, to tell him that he's the easiest person to love, that he means the world to you, that you'd eat every single hot pepper for him. Instead, you settle for pulling him down, breathing in his sigh of relief once he really takes in what you've said.

Kissing Bakugou isn't anything new. You've kissed him in dark classrooms, you've kissed him in the gym and even in bathrooms. But kissing him here, in the confines of your bedroom, with the soft moonlight lighting up his face in all the right angles— you think he looks ethereal. The kiss itself, a dance between the two of you, feels just as magical and it's a good night to be so youthfully in love.

Bakugou isn't familiar with his hands or the way they hold you so closely and so warmly to himself. He isn't familiar with what he's doing half the time, all he knows is that you seem to enjoy it so he pulls it out of himself too. He thinks all these things- every gentle, mushy thing that he does to you and for you- they don't fit his image. They don't go with the picture he paints himself out to be. You're a glaringly obvious misfit to how everyone perceives him. With you, he lets his guard down, with you he's vulnerable and he's soft and maybe that side of him is only shown to you but that's okay, that's what you like anyway.

When he pulls away from you, he doesn't let himself go very far. Leaning his own forehead against yours, he breathes out a soft happy three months, princess, and you're glad he's holding onto you because suddenly you're weak in the knees. You thank him, for the flowers, for the wishes, for everything else.

Bakugou sneezes again and you roll your eyes at him. Telling him to sit down, you tiptoe around your house to fetch him some water and a cold cloth. When you come back, you see him looking around your room. He's looking at all your pictures and posters and your jar of origami stars and maybe since it's the first time he's been in here, he's finally noticed the framed photograph you have of him and yourself that sits on your nightstand, right next to your bed, right next to where you sleep every single night.

Leaning against your doorframe, your eyes soften as you see him pick the frame up. Clearing your throat, he jumps and swiftly turns around to glare at you. I- I was- I was just looking he babbles but you pay him no mind. You lay your extra bedding on the floor, demanding that he rests.

He protests loudly- no, he whines, saying that he's fine, that he doesn't wanna get up early to sneak back out but one stern glare from you silences him immediately. Begrudgingly, he lies down and you sit next to him, pressing your weight against the side of your bed. He lets you press the cold cloth to his forehead, pretending he hates the way you're basically pampering him but you know better, you always do.

His sniffles quiet down soon enough and he looks at you blearily when you start carding your hand gently through his hair. Sleepily, and he won't admit to doing so in the morning, he leans into your touch and grumbles when he thinks you're stopping.

Looking at the pretty flowers once more, burning the image of how they look drenched in starlight to your memory, you lean down so your lips just barely graze his temple. Very softly, so very quietly you murmur into his hair, “Thank you for the flowers, 'Tsuki, they're my favourite— and you, you're my favourite too.”

That night, Bakugou Katsuki sleeps with a smile.

[urtheloml]

little white lie

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader w/c: 4.8k synopsis: somehow, you find yourself locked in your classroom with bakugou katsuki— shenanigans ensue. a/n: sequel is up !!!!! here!

You take six steps backwards, ignoring the warnings from the other occupant of the room, and take off in a run. Your shoulder slams into the door, but it still doesn't budge and all you're left with is a soreness that wasn't there before. You rub your side, deliberately tuning out the way he cackles at your stupidity.

"You could at least try to fucking help me out here," you seethe, but then your lips curl up into a malicious smirk and you gasp, "No, don't tell me... you're enjoying this aren't you? Being locked in the classroom with a girl, how scandalous!"

Your words finally get a reaction out of him and you hum, pleased, when he sputters out indignantly. Bakugou marches up towards you, his footsteps loud and dramatic until he stops right in front of you. You crane your head up to look at him disinterestedly when he huffs, "I don't like it in here any more than you do, princess. Don't go putting words in my mouth."

Rolling your eyes, you move away from him. You start scouring the room for anything to unlock the door with. Really, you should've seen this coming.

Half an hour had passed after the last bell rang when you forgot you left your homework file under your desk. You walked the short distance from your house to your school to go and get it. Lo and behold, Bakugou Katsuki was fast asleep at his desk. A rare sight, really. Taking the place of his usual scowl was a peaceful look of slumber, his eyebrows unfurrowed and his mouth for once, slightly turned upwards.

You almost cooed at your sleeping classmate but the urge to mess with him was much more compelling. So that's exactly what you did. The tip of the whiteboard marker was just about to sink onto the rough skin of his cheek when a hand, quick and calloused, had shot up and caught your wrist.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bakugou asked, his voice raspier than usual from sleep and no, the sound of it did not do something to you.

Yelping, you let the marker fall to the ground and quickly snatched your hand back. You rubbed at your wrist, glaring at him for how tightly he held on to it. He frowned at you because surely he didn't grasp you that hard, quit being a drama queen, he tells you. From there it was a flurry of petty remarks and banter thrown back and forth between the two of you. The both of you were so engrossed in your gross little disguise of flirting that you failed to notice the audible click of the classroom being locked shut.

See, your school was a bit of a fancy one, the one with doors that needed keycards to unlock it. The doors would lock itself automatically at 6pm and alas, it was 6:15 when you finally got up and left. You didn't bother bringing your keycard with you. Actually, you didn't bother bringing anything with you because, after all,  you didn't think you'd stay longer than ten minutes in there. So, imagine your surprise when you tried opening the door but it just. Wouldn't. Budge.

At this point, you had panicked. You didn't do well with enclosed spaces, which by the way, this place was not. There were huge windows literally right there so maybe it was the prospect of just being stuck with Bakugou that freaked you out a bit. Your breaths started coming out harsher and faster, your head leant against the stupid locked doors and honestly you were just being overdramatic. Bakugou, on the other hand, who saw this had actually become really concerned. He's an asshole sure, but he isn't cruel.

The boy thought you were having a real panic attack and sure he isn't that good with the whole social thing but give him some credit, he's not a total idiot. He approaches you quietly and tells you to nod if you're okay with him touching your arm. You're- you're honestly more than okay with that so you jerkily nod your head and let him lead you to the open windows.

"Dumbass, stop panicking. Just take deep breaths, alright, we'll be fine," he reassures you rigidly, rolling his eyes exasperatedly- because of course you're going to be fine, you're with him after all.

After a few moments, you had calmed down enough to thank him softly and then that's when you promptly tried to shoulder down the door. Which leads you to your current predicament- you're stuck in a classroom with Bakugou Katsuki. You’re not sure if you should thank the universe, or curse it.

"'Tsuki, why don't you have your keycard? And why don't you have your phone, either!"

"Didn't bring them today." He answers curtly and then he continues,

"What about you, huh? You're a teenage girl, aren't you supposed to have your phone on you all the fuckin' time?"

You scoff at his question, telling him about how you didn't think you'd be in here for that long. His eyes light up, all of a sudden, and immediately you shut him down saying no, we can't get out using the window, this is the fifth floor. And then he's quiet again, out of ideas.

"I mean, we could... we could like scream?"

Bakugou rejects that idea immediately, which surprises you because he's always so loud. The two of you sigh tiredly, slumping over your desks and laying there to pass the time. After awhile, you pull out your homework file, might as well finish your assignments if you're going to be stuck here.

You're six questions into your math worksheet when you feel his presence come up behind you. He's looming over you and you're desperately trying to ignore him but it's physically impossible not to notice him staring at your work over your shoulder. Bakugou takes a deep breath and you brace yourself for the humiliation that's about to come because let's face it, you're not the best at math, really, you're more of a language person and-

"You didn't expand the first line correctly. The first two questions haven't been simplified either," he corrects you gruffly, pointing at the said mistakes.

You're gaping at him like a fish out of water and he looks at you annoyedly, rolling his eyes before taking a seat across from you. He sits backwards in the chair before turning the sheet towards him and without even asking, he snatches a pencil off your desk and starts circling and writing down the steps for you.

To say you were in complete disbelief would be a lie. See, you hang around Bakugou enough to know that while he may be a competitive asshole who's brash and too blunt and sometimes a bit too aggressive, you also know that he's low-key a total sweetheart. You've been friends with him since your first year of high school and maybe you weren't as close with him as his 'squad' but you're close enough to know that he actually cares about the people he calls his friends.

You know he goes out of his way to buy that energy drink that Kaminari likes every day before class, you've caught him buying snacks for Mina when she and Kirishima are studying late at night and you've seen him do so much more for them too. You see all these little things that no one else bothers to look for, because everyone else labels him only by what they see on the surface and that's just- he's so much more than that.

Yeah, okay, big surprise! You have a teensy, tiny (huge) crush on Bakugou Katsuki but who could blame you? He's attractive, you can't lie to yourself, he's stupidly good-looking and he's smart and he works hard for his grades which just makes him even more irresistible. But having a crush on him isn't the only reason you hang out with him and his friends, you genuinely find them interesting and you love having them as friends, though you wish you and Katsuki were a bit more than that-

"Hey, are you even getting this? Dumbass, if you need me to go through it again then you gotta tell me. Don't just zone out like that, God."

His words snap you out of your daze and you sheepishly apologise before going back to your work. With your chin in your palm, a stupid smile graces your lips as you read over his little notes and you're pleasantly surprised that you manage to understand and solve the next few questions.

However, the last question poses to be quite difficult for you. You try doing what he taught you but you just can't seem to get it right. So, you nudge him with your pen, asking him explain this to me, pleaseee until he huffs as if he wasn't going to the second you opened your mouth. He goes through it carefully, making sure you understand each step and it's frustrating that you just don't.

"I'm sorry I'm so slow. This is really hard for me but like- I'm really trying here." You tell him, looking down at the jumble of letters and numbers mixed up on your paper.

"Calm down alright? It's okay, we have time and you're not gonna leave here until you get this right, you hear me?"

You have half a mind to remind him that the both of you are stuck here. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek and thank him for being so patient with you, smiling when he dismisses your words with a wave. After what feels like hours, you finally finish your work. With a celebratory jump that startles your sleeping partner, you announce the news.

Bakugou looks unimpressed at your exclamation, having finished his work long ago. He claps mockingly at you and you bow your head dramatically as he does it. You stuff your worksheets back into your homework file and skip merrily to the whiteboard. Uncapping the marker, you draw ten little dashes on the board, filling up the first the blank with the letter 'M'.

"'Tsuki! Come over here, we're playing hangman. The answer is a fruit."

Bakugou drags his ass to the front seat, he squints at the board and in less than a minute he gets the answer right. Clicking your tongue, you tell him you're no fun if he gets the answer right so easily. He quips back, tells you then give me harder fucking questions to which you chuck the market at his head, saying it's his turn now. He catches it with ease and throws it back to you.

You raise your eyebrows in question and he tells you he just wants to answer. Alright, you say. From there, the questions steadily rise in difficulty, ranging from tallest person in the school to 98th element of the periodic table and of course, he gets them all correct. How infuriating. After the ninth question he successfully fills up, you give up and fall dramatically over the teacher's desk.

"Getting bored, princess?" Bakugou teases, looking at your slumped form.

He stands up then, stretching his arms above his hand. His midriff thus temporarily exposed and you steal a glance at his toned body, just for a second and not a beat longer just in case he notices. (He does.) Bakugou sighs and comes around to your side, sitting criss-cross on the floor beneath the teacher's wide desk. He pats the space next to you, urging you to sit next to him.

He decides that the two of you will play Truth or Dare. You immediately disagree with him, this game will only end in tears, you say, making a move to get up but soon hanging your head in defeat when you remember that there's nowhere to escape him. He takes a coin out of his pocket, flips it and tells you that you can go first.

The first five minutes of the game goes peacefully enough, stupid questions about each other's favourite food, favourite song and trivial things like that gets passed back and forth and you're delightfully surprised at how nice he's being. You shouldn't have gotten so comfortable because less than a minute later, Bakugou makes you regret playing with him.

"Okay, my turn. If you had to, if you had to, who would you kiss in this class?" He asks you, lips curled sadistically.

What an ass, he totally knows you're into him, you're sure of it. You're the only one, well- one of the few ones who bother talking to a hothead like him so he's definitely thought about why you even bother sticking so close to him. Yeah, oh yeah, he definitely has an inkling to your feelings about him.

Unfortunately for Bakugou, you decide to fight fire with fire. If he wants to make you look stupid then you're going to turn the tables on him. You tap your finger against your chin, deliberately looking away from him for effect. Humming to keep him on his toes, just long enough for him to go spit it out already, you say, just to spite him, "I guess, well if I had to, I would kiss... Kirishima. He's just so dreamy, isn't he?"

Expecting him to scoff or maybe even tell you to quit lying to yourself, you're shocked when a shadow passes over face, his expression souring for a brief moment. He plasters on a fake smile and you hate looking at it because of how fucking insincere it looks on his face.

The way you answered that question rubbed Bakugou the wrong way. It doesn't fucking sit right with him. Had you said anyone else's name then he probably would've snapped at you with a snarky remark, he would've cockily told you to cut the crap and stop lying to yourself. But you fucking said Kirishima of all people, his best friend. And suddenly it all makes sense now. It makes so much sense that Bakugou can't help but fucking glare at his shoes and start rambling.

"Is that right? I fuckin' knew it. For a second there, I actually thought you hung out with me for me but really, it was all for Kirishima, huh? Should've seen this shit coming. Of course, you wouldn't wanna be friends with me for real. You probably think I'm too fucking angry and impulsive and loud just like everyone else, yeah? Whatever, I don't blame you. You were just using me to get closer to Kirishima, weren't you? God, I can't believe I was stupid enough to actually think-"

Smack.

The sound of your palm colliding with his cheek reverberates around the empty classroom. Bakugou whips his head up, looking at you sharply, eyes aflame. Hands trembling, you take the same hand you hit him with and place it softly upon his cheek, forcing him to meet your eyes.

For a good minute or two, silence fills the room. It's suffocating despite how the chirping of nearby crickets syncs with the laboured breaths from the two of you. He doesn't take his eyes off yours, desperately expecting you to explain yourself. Your tongue feels heavy and foreign in your mouth, trying but failing to come up with the right words.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard," you start, slowly and with a shaky inhale, you continue, "I- I hate it when- when you talk about yourself like that. I hate it when you put yourself down like that and I hate that you- that you're so confident in everything but yourself. You- you're a show off and you're stupidly arrogant and I hate to admit it but- but you have the right to be that conceited."

Bakugou's jaw clenches at your words and before he can start, you go on, "I've seen it, your friends have seen it- we all know you work hard for your shit so stop acting like you're less than who you show people you are. Yeah, you are loud and impulsive and aggressive but the people who care about you, who genuinely give a fuck about you, we don't see that. If anything, we love that about you and we know  you're so much more. So, who cares about what some extras think of you? They don't fucking matter and they're just jealous of how cool you are. And- and if I hear you talk shit about yourself again, you're gonna catch these hands."

You're practically panting by this point, chest heaving. Bakugou hasn't said a thing yet, he's still staring at you. His eyes are a little shiny, you notice, and as he looks at you like that— you wonder, distantly, if this is what stargazing feels like. The wind howls and the two of you snap your head towards the window.

Moonlight filters in through the half open curtains and Bakugou thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. You're the only girl worth looking at, worth his time, really. You like him just the way he is, you like him because he's the way he is and you take his shit and hand it right back to him. Bakugou's whipped for you, don't you know?

Biting back a manic grin, he scowls and masks his mushy feelings with feigned rage. He stands up suddenly, rakes his hand roughly through his hair for good measure and snarls down at you, "Then why'd you say you wanted to kiss Kiri, huh?!"

His voice shakes, he doesn't know if it's 'cause of his ill-disguised anger or the fact that he's afraid of your answer. Despite his good intuition, you still have the upper hand here. His heart lies in your palm and one wrong move could kill him. Even so, he hopes you say what he thinks you will.

As Bakugou fights his inner turmoil, irritation snakes around your skin like a vice, making you want to tear it out at how fucking dense Bakugou is acting right now. God, for someone who's got such a brain in his pretty little head, he sure is dumb. Annoyance bleeds into your expression as you stare up at him. You haven't responded which just encourages him to keep repeating his stupid taunt.

Standing up abruptly, you fist his collar tightly in your hands and yank him down clumsily towards you. Your eyes have never been this wide but if being aggressive is what it takes to drill your feelings into his thick skull, you're going to play it exactly like that. With a broken cry, you lash out at him, "Are you a fucking idiot, is that it? How fucking dense can you be, 'Tsuki? I don't want to kiss Kirishima, you fucking hothead, I want to kiss you!"

See, the risk he took was calculated, and he's always excelled in math. Bakugou Katsuki finally smiles at your confession. He grins devilishly at you, his lips turned up wickedly. Call him conceited but he's always had a hunch about your feelings. Okay, maybe call him foolish instead, call him hopeful because the only reason he was so sure about this was because he felt the same.

Bakugou knows all the signs of an idiot in love. He sees you sneaking glances when you think he isn't looking (he's always looking) and he knows you watch him closely when you're with him. He's familiar with all this secret subtlety because he acts exactly the same. He looks at you when you look away, he knows you're observing him because he's looking just as closely.

You, on the other hand, cannot wrap your head around what just happened. You can't believe he successfully goaded you into blurting out something so embarrassing! There really are two sides to every coin because being trapped in this classroom with him has turned out to be both a blessing and a curse.

There's nowhere to run or hide and with every passing second the mortification of your actions burns you up even more. He's still looking at you with that stupid shit-eating grin on his stupid cute face and it just intensifies whatever you're feeling. You bring your hands up to cover your face because you know what's going to happen next.

The ground beneath you sways and you fall onto your knees. Pressing your face into your palms to smother your tears, you try to back away as far as possible from him. God, this shit is so embarrassing, he's probably going to tell you to fuck off or that he isn't interested. God, maybe he'll make fun of you, though you don't think he's that mean but it's always a possibility-

Rough hands encircle your wrists and Bakugou tugs both of your hands away from your face. Ruby eyes soften when they're met with your (admittedly cute) teary face. Using his sleeve, he presses the cloth on your damp eyes and tsks at your messy face.

In sync with your harsh sniffles, Bakugou grazes his thumb slowly over your left cheek and smoothes it softly over your face until it stops at your chin. He cradles your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes meet his and a part of you thinks this whole situation is a fever dream, because you've never seen Bakugou be so gentle with anyone.

His hands that are usually clenched so tight, the skin on his knuckles turn white, now tenderly hold your face. His eyes, usually glaring and angry, gaze fondly into your own. He, as a whole, turns into someone you're not at all familiar with because suddenly, he's shed his cold exterior and right now, he's showing you just how sincere he is.

"Why're you crying, idiot? What's got you so upset, princess?" He whispers.

And- what? You're stunned. Shocked. In disbelief. How- how can he even ask you that?! He just forced you to admit something you were planning on taking to your grave and he has the audacity to ask you something so ridiculous? Ripping your face from his hand, you look at him incredulously and sneer, "What the fuck? What do you mean why am I crying? You're such an asshole, you know that? If you hate me then just tell me that and stop stringing me on, you-"

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou brings his hands up to your face, pulling you in. His palms are so wide, so callous that they engulf your head. Leaning in, he shuts you up with a brush of his lips. It's nothing too intense, it's a modest kiss, chaste. Just a gentle press of his lips against yours, lasting barely ten seconds. But even still, when he pulls away, it leaves you breathless.

You crumple his shirt in a fist, refusing to let him pull away just yet. He takes this as an incentive to lean down again and he pulls you against him once again. It takes you a second to realise that he's kissing you in the dark, on the classroom floor but when you figure it out, you let your arms hang loosely around his neck and pretend your stomach doesn't flutter when you feel him smile against your lips.

Bakugou is smiling into the kiss. Hate you? How could you even think that? I can't hate you, his hands mumble as they gently hold your body, so much smaller compared to his own, against himself. I can't hate you, his eyes muse as they seek you out in every single room without fail. I could never hate you, the warmth in his chest confesses, as the feeling blooms tenfold every time you bicker with him- each time you take his sharp words and throw it right back at him.

I think I like you, his heart shakily finally admits as it thuds beneath his ribcage each time you smile at him, each time you text him stupid things, each time you're even next to him. I do like you, he decides, he thinks he likes you much more than he should, much more than he thought he was capable of and he decides he likes you despite what everyone thinks of him, despite what he thinks of himself and he decides, ultimately, that he's going to be the best version of himself when he's with you, because that's what you deserve anyway.

The next time you separate, the both of you are breathing much heavier than before and the redness of your cheeks are mirrored on his. He buries his nose into your hair, lets a whisper of I'm sorry slip from his lips, just barely loud enough for you to catch. You wonder why he's apologising- for making you cry or for forcing the confession out of you. Either way, he's forgiven and he sounds so cute, so adorably apologetic that it's unfair that that's all it takes for your bad mood to go away.

You glance at the clock in the room, 8:03, it reads. The clock, a cute pink thing sits neatly on the teacher's desk. The teacher's- the teacher's desk! It hits you then, you can't believe you forgot that the class rep keeps a spare keycard in the teacher's desk drawer!

Tearing yourself away from Bakugou's warm body, you start rummaging through the drawer, ignoring Bakugou's noise of protest. 'Tsuki! There's a spare keycard, remember? You remind him and giggle at his groaning. He's probably upset that he forgot about it too.

You're wrong. You couldn't be more wrong. Bakugou knew about it, of course he did, but why would he remind you about it when all it would do was take you away from him. He hums when you finally find it, smiles when you flash it triumphantly at him. He gathers your things as you erase the whiteboard and the two of you finally exit the class.

The moment you step out of the class, Bakugou doesn't hesitate to take your hand in his. It comes naturally and  your hand fits so perfectly in his own. Your cheeks warm at his boldness but all you do is squeeze his hand a little tighter. Hand-in-hand, the two of you walk silently home. Bakugou insists that he walks you home and you're more than happy to agree.

When he delivers you to your doorstep, you’re about to wish him goodnight when he calls your name. His hands are clammy and he can hear smoke coming out from his ears but he has to ask you anyway. A flustered grumble escapes him when he asks you, hesitantly, hopefully, "Tomorrow. Will you go out with me, I mean, uh, tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at six? I promise I won't make you cry again."

Scrunching your nose at his words, you can't help the smile that takes over your face as you tell him of course, 'Tsuki.

Bakugou grins, boyish and charming, at your answer. Nodding to himself, he bids you goodnight and turns to walk away. Impulsively, you call out 'Tsuki! and when he turns around, you press your lips quickly to his cheek. Just a peck, just a measly 3 seconds of lip contact but it makes him heat up anyway. With an embarrassingly squeaky voice, you wish him goodnight and run into your home, leaving him there all flushed and much too pleased with himself in your doorway.

As Bakugou Katsuki walks home that night, with a smirk gracing his lips, he pulls out his keycard from his wallet. He tosses it in the air a few times before stuffing it back into his pocket, a mischievous smile plays on his lips as he cackles into the night- the sound drowned out in the moonlight and his own endless affection for you. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody.

[urtheloml]

3:27

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader w/c: 7.8k synopsis: it's late and everything is going wrong and you wish he were here. and then suddenly he is. a/n: tw suicide attempt in a dream. fic was inspired by this tiktok!!! idk i think it's a cute vent/comfort fic!!! ALSO i do not know how cars work alright and the song playing during the dance scene is Symphony by Cody Fry. this story seems really fast paced bc dreams last less than seven seconds irl <3

the window is open.

it's an unfamiliar feeling. the harsh wind and the sensation of raindrops pelting against your skin. you rarely leave your window open at night, because you know this would happen. it's the price to pay when your bed is right underneath it. but the rain isn't why your face is wet. no, that would be too predictable.

it’s close to three in the morning, the rain coming in is seeping into your bed sheets and your life is falling apart. everything is going wrong, even though you're trying your hardest. you wake up early enough most days and you do your best to be productive. but recently, it hasn't been working out for you at all. you can't seem to get out of bed and even when you do, you do the absolute bare minimum.

you shower, if you're up for it, and then you go back to sleep. you barely eat and even when you do, you don't feel the energy at all. it's draining, it's getting bad again but you don't know what to do, you can't seem to do anything right. everyday is passing in a blur and it's getting harder and harder to breathe by the minute. but that's also probably because you've been sobbing for the past hour. it's the kind of crying where every sob is accompanied by a ragged breath or a wet cough every now and then. it's the kind where your eyes get puffy and you can't seem to stop the tears, the kind that only comes out when you know you've hit rock bottom.

it's like you believe once you cried hard enough, this whole mess will fix itself. it won't, but it does make you feel better for a moment. and God, you're in so much pain. you try studying to keep your grades up but every time you try reading your texts, the words swim in their sentences and nothing sticks in your brain for long. you try working out but the self-hatred you have for your own body makes it impossible. and your parents yell at you, they're asking, are you even trying? and why are you always so lazy? and all you can do is stare at them and stammer and try to defend yourself, knowing they won't understand your inner turmoil and how it's like a tsunami of anxiety is constantly stirring inside you.

today, it's like the string holding you together finally snapped and everything inside you had tipped over. it's not even school or anything of that sort that's got you so stressed out. it's an accumulation of every inconvenience so far, both big and small, that really messed you up. everything is going wrong and nothing seems worth waking up another day for. and so what if everybody thinks you're being overdramatic, you're so fucking tired and your feelings are so fucking valid. so there you lay, crumpled up into fetal position on your bed, pillows damp and rain dripping off your windowsill onto your arms, further soaking your sheets. the sobs that rip out of your throat can't be heard, overshadowed by the thunder and the rain. it's a good thing, you don't want anyone else to hear how pathetic you sound right now.

everything around you feels makes your skin crawl. it's all too overwhelming and it feels like the walls in your room are slowly closing in and your lungs feel like they're constricting and it feels like every single bone in your body is shaking in their joints, making you curl up until you're hugging your knees to your chest, barely breathing.

you turn over so you're laying on your back now. as you stare at your ceiling, you can't help but wish you were anywhere else than in your tiny bedroom. what a mess, you think, he'd laugh at me if he saw me like this. it should be concerning that even when you're at your lowest you think of someone who isn't even real. it's bad enough that every night you dream of him because whenever you wake up, you wish you hadn't. it's not fair that the person who solaces you the most isn't real. it's terribly unjust and God, you wish somehow he were here. it hurts, thinking about him and how his very existence would comfort you right now. so you shut your eyes and try to tune those thought out and-

you blink. it's still raining but suddenly your legs are dangling off the edge of your apartment

building. you don't recall getting out of bed yet alone walking to the roof. so this must be a dream, you conclude. and you're crying again, the sounds that come out of you scrape against the walls of your throat and you're gasping for breath. the rainwater washes away your tears and you cry harder because here, you can be as loud as you want. and then thought pops into your mind a second later, not at all unexpected.

i could just jump, it's not like i'd die. it's a dream anyway, you rationalise with yourself. you'd never have the guts to do this when you're not within the sleeping realm so you might as well just do it now. it'd probably feel so good to break apart as your body slams against the asphalt. the impact would do wonders, you just know it would.

you scoot forward, inching closer and closer towards falling off, and the wetness of the ledge assists you. you smile, ruefully, and just when you're about to slip and let go, you think of him again. he'd probably be so disappointed in you for doing this, even if it is in a dream. but what would he know, he doesn't even fucking exist. and you know what, how dare he, you think spitefully. how dare he become the epitome of your salvation and have the gall to not fucking be real.

you wish you could scream until your voice runs raw, just to let it all out. then you remember you can. so you do. and it feels really fucking liberating. you're yelling, things like why do i keep fucking up and i'm sorry for messing up and i'm trying my best. and it seems like an eternity has passed when your lungs finally give out but your tears have stopped and you feel way less worn out at least. and like your mind's on playback, you think of him again.

"i wish you were fucking real. God, i wish you were here so bad. why don't you fucking exist when i fucking need you the most," you mutter to yourself, and then you remember all the times his voice would comfort you in the dark and the yearning for him aches even more, gives you all the more reason to jump because when you jerk awake at least you'd be able to switch on your phone and take a look at his stupid face.

you lay your palms behind yourself and you leave no time for any hesitation to settle in your bones. you push yourself off the ledge. and then you're falling, falling, falling

"what the FUCK do you think you're doing, you fucking dumbass," a voice, one you'd know even in your dreams, says from above you. his palm, wet but gripping your own wrist so tightly that even the rainwater doesn't slip in between the cracks.

"give me your other fucking wrist right now," he snarls, or maybe he's pleading with you, you can't tell because the disbelief that Bakugou fucking Katsuki is in front of you hasn't quite been absorbed yet. you're staring up at him, eyes blown wide and the tears start all over again. he begs you please, fuck, just give me your other fucking hand, and you can't stand hearing his voice break like that but your body still doesn't move.

he's struggling to hold you up, you can tell. even with the amount of strength he possesses in those arms of his, you know if you don't move soon, you'll slip right through his hold. your body dangles in the air and when he sees you're not responding, he reaches down and latches onto you with his other arm too.

"h-how are you- what? this- this isn't real," you stutter, barely getting the words out and it's even harder to hear them with the pouring rain falling around you.

"i don't know what kind of bullshit you're spewing and right now, i really couldn't fucking care less. but i swear to God, if you don't give me your other fucking hand right now, i'll kill you myself," he pants roughly, a clear indication that holding you up is taking a toll on him.

"this isn't real so just- let me go," you tell him firmly, and you squirm in his grasp trying to get him to drop you.

he's breathing heavily, a wounded whine makes its way out of his throat and he snaps his eyes shut. he pulls you as hard as you can and he grunts in frustration when you don't make it any easier for him. you keep repeating fucking stop just let me go- over and over again like a mantra and it should be illegal for two people to be this stupid and stubborn. you can feel his grip giving away and you're slipping and he's about to fucking snap when he interrupts you-

"BUT I'M RIGHT HERE- I'M RIGHT HERE, AREN'T I? ARE MY FUCKING HANDS NOT HOLDING ONTO YOU RIGHT NOW? BECAUSE THIS WHOLE SITUATION FEELS PRETTY FUCKING REAL TO ME," he says- screams, desperate.

his face scrunches up as if he were in unbearable pain, and the way his voice cracked halfway through makes his words deafening, the loudest you've heard them since he got here, and his words ring in your ears, they fill the space around you and you're don't dare utter a single word, too stunned to even do that. but you have enough sense to finally reach up and hand him your other arm. swiftly, he snatches it and hauls you back over the ledge and you topple over it hard enough to send you both falling over.

you land in a heap over his body and he steadies you before your head can hit the ground. the rain stops. you're both left on the wet concrete. you scramble off his body immediately and you're about to back away even further until he grabs your hand, a silent request to stop moving. so you sit, with your legs tucked underneath yourself, in front of him. the both of you sit in silence for a few seconds before you mumble out a soft thanks and Bakugou grunts and raises his gaze to meet yours. he doesn't look as mad as he sounded a few moments ago.

and now, when you really look closer you notice how he looks older in a way, his jaw less rounded. and he, as a whole, is less two-dimensional but more solid, more warm, more real. the rain may have stopped but your clothes are still wet and the way it sticks to your skin causes goosebumps to rise on your arms, making you shiver. he sees this, tells you yeah i bet you're fucking cold, dumbass, what'd you expect when you go out into the rain like that but he's already pulling off his own hoodie and draping it over your shoulders. it has the faintest scent of something akin to warm caramel and boy.

you don't have the heart to tell him that it's not supposed to be dry.

instead, you smile and he visibly softens at that. you scoot closer to him and bring your hand up to rest it on the side of his face just because right now you can. he leans into your touch and closes his eyes. you stare at him then and note down a few things like how he glows as if he houses the motherfucking sun underneath his skin and you consider it the greatest blessing to have the privilege to feel his warmth beneath your fingertips.

when he opens his eyes, you let your hand fall. you don't know how much time passes by when inevitably he asks you why'd you do it. his eyes burn into your own, waiting for your response. and you don't even know where to fucking start. so that's exactly where you start.

you tell him everything, because he's asking right? he's asking you to vent. so you throw up your problems and they come out a garbled mess of words. you tell him how nothing's working out for you, how everyday is as meaningless as the last and how you're so fucking tired all the time. and how it's stupidly difficult to feel so tired and so sad at the same time when all you really want to feel is alive again.

when you finally run out of breath, he looks at you pensively for a few tense moments. like he's trying to find a way to solve some complex math equation. and when he's finally figured out how, he nods to himself and huffs. he stands abruptly and stretches his arms over his head, exposing the pale skin above his waist for a few seconds. enough for you to notice and turn away, cheeks rosy.

he waves his hand in front of your face, urging you to take it and stand up. so you do, because you don't know how long this will last and you'll be damned if you let any chance to touch him go to waste. he pulls his hoodie tighter over your shoulders, ruffles your hair and you hate that you have to crane your neck up to look at him when he says with his lips curled up around the edges, "so you wanna feel alive, huh? alright, i can do that. let's go dumbass."

honestly the word "dumbass" is starting to sound like a fucking pet name when it comes from his mouth. you stuff your hands into the hoodie's pocket and quickly trail behind him. he leads you to a nearby carpark around the corner and stops in front of a sleek cerulean blue convertible. you wish you could say something snarky about it but you can't even lie to yourself, the car really is gorgeous and you're dying to get in.

he sees you gawking at his car and he smirks but he doesn't say anything. what a smug bastard, you think. he settles himself in the driver's seat and tells you to hop in. much to his surprise, you quite literally vault over the passenger's door and into its seat. you wish you did it gracefully but you end up upside down and your head thumps against the gear stick hard enough for you to yelp. he huffs out a laugh and shakes his head while you readjust yourself. then his quiet laughter turns into a full blown cackle and then suddenly you're laughing too with your head thrown back and your eyes squeezed shut.

"i cannot believe you managed to- HAHAHAHA- mess up that badly. you... you sure are something else."

"tell me something i don't know, blasty. we all know i'm full of surprises."

he rolls his eyes and when you look ahead, you realise you're on some highway and it never occurred to you to ask him where he's taking you. it wouldn't matter anyway, you know he wouldn't tell you and you trust him enough to not care. you're about to say something when he tells you to pass him the AUX cord. he puts on a song that sounds vaguely familiar to you, the name of it tucked somewhere in the back of your mind.

the music fills the air around you and the two of you nod your heads to the beat of it. when the chorus hits, you finally remember what it's called. it's such a throwback song and of course this is what Bakugou listens to. it's such a vibe and you can't help but sing along, even if you do it terribly. he pretends to be annoyed by it, tells you shut up, you're ruining it dumbass and even though he's scowling, you know he doesn't mean it and he's just relieved that you're feeling better.

the second chorus of the song hits, he turns towards you with a shit eating grin on his stupid face and immediately you grip your seatbelt tight out of fear. you don't know what he's going to say but you already hate it. he goes alright idiot, time to make you feel alive again and then he fucking stomps on the accelerator and he doesn't let up. he's definitely committing like three different offences but still he speeds up even more.

you're screaming. it's not a pretty sound in the slightest but you don't care. you're screeching, telling him to oh my GOD slow DOWN- but he doesn't take orders from anyone, not even you. if anything, he drives even faster if that's even possible. you clench your eyes shut and hold onto your seat until your knuckles turn white around the edges. he sighs, and relents, just a little.

"c'mon stupid, you said you wanted a thrill didn't you? well here you go," he scoffs, exasperated, as if he were talking to a petulant child.

oh. so that's what he was trying to do. you glare at him scathingly, because how could he have expected you to know that. he glares back and presses down the accelerator again, all the while he doesn't take his eyes off yours. it's as if he were challenging you and you loathe him for that. his lips quirk up one side like he knows what you're about to do, it's infuriating.

your fingers fumble roughly trying to unbuckle your seatbelt. when you manage to free yourself, you brace your hands against the dashboard and rearrange yourself so that you're kneeling on your seat now. the wind feels even harsher yet you've never felt more exhilarated. you pull off your scrunchie and let your hair fall over your shoulders. for good measure, you chuck the scrunchie at his face, which only prompts him to speed up.

your hair blows in the wind and your whole body is tingling. electricity surges through your veins and you're giggling freely every time he tries to pinch your legs. the last chorus of the songs plays and you raise yourself as high as you can on your knees without actually standing. you throw your hands up in the air and your hands cup your mouth and you're belting out the lyrics at full volume and you feel as though you've been revitalised.

"BABY, PLEASE DON'T GO! IF I WAKE UP TOMORROW, WILL YOU STILL BE HERE-," you sing out loud.

your driver taps his fingers against the wheel, he rests his head in his other hand and continues the song, "-i don't know," he croons out softly, not loud enough for you to hear.

the song ends and you sit back down. the both of you savour the momentary silence. your mood definitely feels brighter than before and when he sees this, he smiles.

now, let's be honest, okay. Bakugou may not be the best person to offer you comfort but he's honest. brutally so, and that's exactly what you need right now so it's not really surprising when his 'pep talk' comes out a little meaner than he intended.

he's looking straight ahead onto the empty highway, his eyes hard but you know he wants the best for you when he says, "look the harsh truth is that no matter how fucking strong you are, at some point you're gonna hit rock bottom and it'll feel like the world is falling apart beneath your feet and maybe for you, that time is now. but you know, the only person who can get you back on the surface is yourself. and i think that's the best part because it goes to show just how fucking hardcore you are. that even at your fucking worst you're able to rise again and push yourself to new limits. and then because the world wants to fuck us all over, this whole fucking cycle repeats itself over and over again but each time you know you're gonna be fucking okay, because you've done it before and you're sure as fuck gonna do it again."

unshed tears sting your eyes but he continues anyway and tells you, "i know hearing that sucks, but it's the truth. so what if you've fucked up now. things are going to go wrong again and you're going to fuck up again or something's going to fuck you up again. and it's going to keep happening regardless of whether you want it or not so you might as well just fucking relax, you know? logic and gut-feelings don't matter, you're going to mess up sooner or later and the only thing that'll make it worse is if you choose to keep obsessing over it. really, you should just do whatever the fuck you want and deal with what happens next."

"i mean, yeah but what if-" you start.

"what if what, dumbass? what the fuck ever, then. if shit goes to hell then you just move on from it. take your time, whatever, but use the shit you learned from your fuck ups and apply it to the stuff that comes next. listen, i can't tell you what you are or aren't fucking capable of, because i don't know what your limits are, no one does. but that's the whole point, get it? no one, except for yourself, can tell you what you can or can't do. you decide that shit for yourself, so show them. show everyone how fucking badass you are. dream big and all that then believe in those dreams and believe in yourself."

he stops the car and makes his way over to your side. you hear your side of the door open and he crouches in front of you. warm hands cup your cheeks and he squishes them together and says, "but you know, that's not to say that you can't feel sad about screwing up, okay? if you need to cry, then fucking cry. if you need a break, take one. as long as you keep moving forward, doesn't matter how slow it is, you'll be okay. okay?"

you nod against his palm and he lets go of your cheeks. he tugs you out of the car and when you look around, it seems that he's brought you to a beach. he finds a spot near enough to the shore that the water just barely grazes your shoes when you sit down. he kicks the sand next to you and throw a handful back at him. when he sits next to you, you lean against him and take his hand in yours again.

he complains, but let's you play with his fingers anyway. he nudges you, tells you to look up. above you, a new moon sky shines down on you, illuminated with millions of stars. all around you are stars, littering every nook and cranny of the vast night sky, glowing so intensely you're forced to blink—once then twice—just to make sure that they’re real. and they are real and it grounds you in a way. the swirls of nebulas and galaxies behind the stars are barely noticeable unless you squint but it makes the view even more mesmerising, like the stark contrast of gold stars on a blackboard, and your lips part in awe.

"pretty..." you gasp.

"i bet you think i'm gonna say some cheesy shit like oh but it's not as pretty as you huh?" he asks, looking way too prideful for your liking.

"no, not really. let's face it blasty, everyone knows you're not capable of being that type of dude," you mock sigh, already knowing what's to come.

"what- what the fuck-" he splutters, brows furrowing, "-who the fuck said i can't pull that shit off? fine, alright- i didn't even look at the sky, dipshit, i was too busy lookin' at you. i couldn't give less of a fuck about the sky, not when you're sitting right next to me 'cause nothing could compare anyway," he grits out, voice tight.

"well, looks like i won that bet then."

he glowers at you, mouth falling open in actual offence. but he doesn't say anything else. and even with the noise of the waves crashing over each other, it's still relatively quiet. and you loathe it because the silence just enhances how loud your thoughts are. you're panicking internally, your mind gets clogged with all your doubts and worries and the ever-present lingering anxiety that resides in the back of your head.

as much as you want to enjoy the temporary peace you're experiencing, you can't. because that's all this is; temporary. this 'world' you're currently in will fall apart the moment your consciousness kicks back in and then you'll have missing assignments to attend to and hundreds of pages to read and stacks of revision papers to go through and worst of all, Bakugou's going to slip right through your fingers and you'll never see him again and-

your thoughts get cut off when a fist thunks against the top of your head and you'd think he'd do it gently but it hurts and you pull away from him to rub the sore spot. you're about to retaliate when he pulls you back in, his arm, heavy and warm, rests on your shoulder and his fingers play with the hairs on the back of your neck. and eventually he mutters, "whatever you're thinking about, stop it. i can hear you freaking out and it's distracting me. just relax, idiot."

distract him from what? you wonder. but you appreciate his gesture anyway. and he's right, you should just relax and enjoy whatever this is. so with a burst of energy, you stand and stretch your arms high above your head. he looks at you quizzically when you kick off your shoes haphazardly and hop into the water. you grin maniacally at him and he shoots you a look that says don't you dare but you don't even give him a second to flee before you splash at him with your hands.

logically, you should be shaken when he looks at you murderously. but his face doesn't have the same effect when it's dripping and his front is drenched with seawater. it’s quite strange, that even though you just ‘met’ him, it feels like you’ve known him your whole life. your feet instinctively try to run but he's faster, of course he is, and you shriek gleefully when he charges at you and throws you over his shoulder.

"alright brat, time to fucking pay," he snarls from above you.

you kick your feet stubbornly but he doesn't let you go, hold your breath, he tells you and you suck in a huge gulp of air. not a moment later he flips you over so he's carrying you bridal style, he trudges further into the sea and when he's waist deep in it, he throws you a deranged smile before literally hurling you into the water.

it prickles your skin when your body slams past the surface but it doesn't hurt all that bad. you come up for air, feeling more alive than ever, and immediately try lunging for him but he dodges your attack with ease and even pushes you back into the water a couple more times. oh come on, are you even trying? he asks you, but it doesn't sting like it usually does when your parents ask you that. if anything, you laugh harder and push him back with double the force.

when he stumbles a bit, you don't let him catch himself and instead you dive forward so he topples into the water. when he emerges, a triumphant noise escapes you but it doesn't last long because he drags you under with him next. the two of you emerge, breathless and laughing, and you don't recall the last time you felt this wildly elated.

you don't know how much time passes by when the two of you finally stop playing in the water. but once your arms are sore enough and your nose burns when you inhale, you flop against his chest, the wet layers between the two of you made your skin tingle. tired, you whine obnoxiously until he caves and carries you back to shore. but you don't feel smug for long because he soon drops you unceremoniously onto the sand and your eyes close when you wince.

when you peel your eyes open, his clothes are dry. you don't say anything.

he's looking ahead, eyes cloudy and distant. and you can feel it and you know he knows it too. that you're running out of time. this world, where the two of you can actually speak and touch and feel, will soon crumble into nothing but a mere memory and he will not be there to put you back together again. he will not be here at all. and the tears threaten to spill over the longer you think about.

so instead, you let the air fill your lungs until your shoulders stop shaking. you look up at him, watching him for a moment. just to take him in for a bit. when your throat stops burning every time you try to speak, you make grabby hands at him until he kicks a bit of sand at you before pulling you up. you grab his phone that he left on the sand and shuffle through his shitty music until you land on something fitting for the occasion. distantly, like a faraway memory, you realise foggily that his playlist matches your own.

the song starts out soft and melodious, perfect for what you're about to ask. dance with me, you say to him. fuck off and die, he answers. expected, but you're not waking up without one fucking dance. he walks away from you and along the shore, you watch his back move further and further away from you. when you think he's gone far enough, your legs pick up the speed and you run after him. when you get close enough, you jump onto his back and wrap your arms and legs around him like an octopus.

he struggles, arms flailing clumsily, get the fuck off, he says but you know if he really wanted to shake you off, he would've. so you let him adjust your body until he's comfortable and then you start pulling at his stupid blond locks, forcing him to turn back around so you can hear the music. insufferable, he calls you. and you smile into his hair.

he marches back to his phone grumpily, footsteps loud and exaggerated. when he hands you the phone, you restart the song and hop down from his back. dance with me, you ask him again but this time your eyes look pleadingly into his. dance with me, you ask aloud. (because i'm never going to get the chance to ever again).

Bakugou sighs like he usually does when he's about to give in to something. he grumbles and he's scowling again but he nods anyway. so you smile gently at him and wrap your arms around his neck and when he begrudgingly places his hands on your waist, you grin. you don't actually know how to dance and you tell him this while giggling. useless, he says but for some reason you know he means it affectionately. he takes the lead, guiding you all the way, words firm but softly uttered. he tells you how to move your feet and when to spin. he teaches you how the steps are counted and absent-mindedly you wonder if you'll remember this when you wake up.

he sways and spins you faster as the tempo of the song increases gradually. when you step on his feet, he clicks his tongue in annoyance and tries to intentionally step on yours. and suddenly the dancing turns into an unexpected game of footsie and you're both laughing. but when the song's melody slows down, he huffs and resumes the dancing.

the music starts speeding up and he's impressed that you've managed to match his steps without messing up so far. and when the music reaches its crescendo, he lifts you by the waist and spins you fucking mid-air like you've seen in all the movies, because of course he'd pull something like this off. you've always known that he'd give his 110% in everything, so why wouldn't that include dancing. when he brings you back down, he dips you low enough that your hair just barely grazes the water, making you squeal.

he continues rocking you gently until the song finally ends. the last position leaves you both breathless and he's looking at you so intensely, it hurts. so you look away, eyes burning tearfully but he's not having that. he cups your face in his palm and forces you to look at him. your bottom lip juts out stubbornly and he smiles at you. it's barely a smile but he does it adoringly, as if he were trying to tell you that it's okay, let it out and you can't fucking help it. the tears spill.

surprisingly, he huffs out a short laugh. you glare at him because what the fuck dude, not cool. but he just rolls his eyes and sits down abruptly. he tugs on your hand and pulls you down so you fall into his lap with each of your legs on either sides of his waist. he looks at you, eyes soft and brings a hot palm to your face. his thumb and index finger slips behind your ear and his other hand covers his own, his thumb on that hand swipes the tears away. sometime later, you stop crying and you wrap your arms around his neck loosely and he leans back on his hands.

"i'm not gonna lie, i thought your crybaby ass would've broken down sooner." he says, smirking lazily.

you don't even have the energy to thump his chest like you want, instead you laugh wetly and shake your head. you let your head fall onto his shoulder and try to press yourself impossibly closer to him. because just for a few minutes, you want to make sure to properly feel his warmth bleed into you. you want to soak in the feeling of him because for now you can. you feel his arms come around you and squeeze and you feel like sobbing all over again. instead you tighten your arms and heave strained breaths.

when you feel him squirming restlessly, you finally get off and sit by his side instead. you pull your knees up to your chest and watch him amusedly when he stretches out his legs and groans in relief. he looks over at you and turns so he's sitting criss-cross in front of you.

"listen, wanna hear something mega cool?" he asks, leaving you bewildered because how did he just use the word mega and make it sound cool-

"yeah, what is it?"

"i have a secret quirk, but i can only use it once, alright? i can- i can read palms," he tells you softly, and he's smirking like he's smug of something so ridiculous or as softly and he could muster, like it's a secret and not something he just decided.

so you play along, you ask him okay so what's in it for me, what's my future then since he's acting so cocky.

he smiles at you wickedly, like the Cheshire cat, full of mischief yet somehow still  charming and he leans forward. he goes all up in your face, and whispers, "us," and he's so close that his lips just barely brush against yours when he speaks.

and it's only once he pulls back and he's cackling that you realise how absolutely fucking terrible that line was and you just- you cannot believe this is the boy you're so enraptured by. and when he calms down, he takes your hand in his again. and then he closes his eyes and goes, "hmm, your future is full of good things and bad. and in between it's blurry but you're definitely going to be okay, that's for sure."

and you believe him. it hits you then, like a tidal wave, the fact that you actually have faith in things turning out okay. for the first time in God knows how long, hope fills you up like air and you realise that should this dream have never happened, you would've lost everything you were fighting for. so in your heart, you thank whoever allowed you to have this experience. even if it never happens again, you'll forever be grateful for it.

you look down at your adorned hands and you swear you see his wavering a little, going temporarily translucent. your stomach twists sickeningly at the sight and it forces you to clench his fingers a little harder. he winces imperceptibly and you wish you didn't notice it but when he tightens his hand around yours, you're soothed instantly. it's like he's telling you in his own way that he's just as scared of disappearing as you.

he lifts your palm up to rest his forehead against it and whispers, voice rough as though he too had been holding back tears, "you have to- you gotta promise me alright. that when things get rough you won't fucking off yourself like you tried to. i'm not- i'm not asking you to do it for my sake 'cause that'd be fucking stupid. i'm asking you to promise me because i know better things are coming for you and i'm not about to let you throw that chance away, got it? i care about you too much to let that happen, so please. promise me."

you don't know why it takes you so long to answer him. maybe it's because you didn't know if you’ll mean it or not. but for him, and more importantly for yourself, you tell yourself not to give into the temptation of breaking his deal. good things are going to come your way, along with the bad parts, but you know inevitably that things will turn out alright and you're going to try harder to keep pushing through. yet it still felt like shards of glass were scraping the insides of your throat when you eventually croaked out, "okay. yeah, i promise."

all at once, his whole body flickers; as though he were a projection of some sort that was slowly losing its connection. you jerk away from him like you've been electrocuted. and suddenly the beach dissolves into nothing and both of you are transported back in your tiny bedroom. it's raining again, softer this time, like the weather was trying to be considerate to you in this delicate moment. you look around confusedly and then at him but he doesn't even acknowledge the change, as if he knew this was all bound to happen.

you sneak a glance at the clock on your nightstand, 3:21 it reads. you've been in this world with him for about twenty minutes then. it's weird, it feels like it’s been more than that. it feels like he saved you from falling two hours ago, not two minutes. you take a seat on your bed, beckon him to sit next to you and into the crevice of his shoulder you spit, the syllables coming out one by one, "you are a filthy fucking liar."

he doesn't say anything; all he does is wrap his stupid fucking arm around your shaking body. but you're fucking mad at him so you shrug it off roughly and with as much force as your trembling arms can muster, you push hard against his chest until your back's against your headboard. with your knees pulled up to your aching chest, you sigh, "why'd you do this to me? why did you have to make me believe, even for a fucking second, that this shit was real. you can't- you can't fucking make me think i'm gonna wake up and you'd still be here, when you're not."

he looks away, guilty. good, you think, then immediately take it back because this isn't how you want to spend your final moments with him. it never crossed your mind, even once, how absurd this whole situation is. a fucking fictional character had somehow spawned into your dimension, had somehow become cruel enough to exist with you and now he's leaving. it's absurd, it's fucking excruciating.

he closes in on you until he's sitting in front of you and then he takes your palm and presses his lips right on its centre. sorry, he means by it. he pulls you in, trails kisses up your arm to your shoulder, sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry. you snatch your am back and press your palms roughly into your eyes, willing yourself not to cry. but it's hard not to, especially because his eyes are slightly damp too.

"don't forget. you promised me. okay? so when i'm gone, you can't fucking-just don't even try to pull that shit to see if i'll catch you again 'cause i fucking won't. i- you promised," he says softly, catching both your wrists in his arms until you nod.

you can feel sleep getting the best of you, your eyes falling shut ever so slightly. and the image of him flickers when your eyes become increasingly droopy. and that sends lightning down your spine, forcing you to sit upright again and take his hand in your own. just to make sure he's still there. just to make sure-and then it felt like an arrow shot through your chest at the sudden realisation that you will never get to experience this love with him ever again. your eyes are fucking burning. they're already tearing up from both the strain of staying awake this long and- but you refuse to fucking sleep.

if staying awake, in wherever you were, meant you could be with him for even a fraction of a second longer, you'd never close your eyes for the rest of your goddamn life. so you cup his face gently in your shaking palms and rest your head against his, you burn the image of him into your head, long enough until every freckle, every eyelash, and every tear track sears themselves into your mind. if sleep allows you to bring one thing with you, it will be this.

you fit your palm beneath his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes. and you're impressed that you manage to steady your voice when you say, "look at me and say you'll be here when i wake up."

when he grits his teeth and refuses to talk, you cup his face in both your palms and you say desperately, "fine, don't say anything. just please stay. you're my home and i- i'll do anything if you stay."

"don't make me- you know i can't do that."

you let go of his face and nod once, jaw clenched and heart aching. you ask him how much longer you have and he shrugs his shoulders. maybe you have half an hour left, maybe lesser than that. it hurts to think about how he could suddenly dissolve into nothingness any second now. but it's a fear you have to live with for now, so you press yourself as close as possible to him and let the way he smells like safety and comfort and cinnamony caramel seep into the fabric of his hoodie that you refuse to take off. even though you know you know you're not going to wake up in it.

he wraps you up impossibly tighter and in the silence, the both of you bask comfortably. the two of you talk about nothing and everything at the same time. things like what your favourite colours are and if maybe the stars brought you to him. i don't know shit about that but surely some star binds me to you, he says and you pinch yourself hard to engrave his words into every nook and cranny of your brain. he tells you how he'll miss the feeling of you stepping on his toes and you complain that he's rendered you incapable of not spontaneously bursting into tears the next time someone calls you a dumbass, making him snort.

the longer he holds you, the sleepier you get and even when he fades completely for mere milliseconds, you don't open your eyes. when he notices this, he shakes you harshly until you blink up at him sleepily. even when he's so distressed you think he still looks absolutely ethereal.

"wait- wait hold on," he says and sucks in a deep breath, as if you're the one that's about to slip away into thin air.

he's flickering again or maybe it's just your eyes fluttering and it pains you to look at him but you do it anyway because this is the last time. it's even more agonising to do so because you want so badly to do something or anything but you physically cannot bring yourself to move. he's looking at you hopelessly, his eyes pleading like he wants to scream and beg you to stay but he knows it can't, knows he powerless to whatever entity that's taking you from him. he looks away swiftly, curses and with a quiet intensity, he burns his gaze into yours.

"before you go, just- one last thing." he takes your hands and squeezes once before letting go. "how are you feeling?"

but aren't you the one leaving

"like right now?"

"yeah, right now at this very moment."

(with you-) your eyes droop and you blink sleepily-once then twice- and you smile at his vanishing figure. "Golden."

⚝

glassy eyes rip themselves open. your mouth falls open and you heave as though you've just ran a marathon. 3:27, your clock mocks you. you pull your blanket over your head and you curl up into your familiar sheets that smells of your shampoo and lavender laundry detergent and cinnamony caramel-

wait. no that's impossible-

with speed you didn't know you possessed, you yank the blanket off with quivering hands. blurrily, you push yourself up onto your forearms. the moonlight seeps in through your open windows and when you glance down, it's not your hoodie you've got on.

it's his.

[obvsssss]

Further Proof Oikawa is a badass and not a whiny bitch like SOME PEOPLE say.

well guys here’s another essay by yours truly. My weekly oikawa defense post. Honestly how much deeper can I dig myself into this oikawa defense hole. Where do I come up with it. Who knows. 

So in Chapter 97 of the manga, we see this panel below. Now at the time we don’t necessarily know what kindaichi and kunimi are referring to. You can maybe assume, at the time, it was about Kyotani joining the team. They can be referring to many things though, because Oikawa is in fact excessive. 

And then when we get to chapter 372 we see the completed panel:

This occurs BEFORE THE KARASUNO MATCH. Oikawa already had a path. He already knew what he was going to do. Granted he still definitely wanted to make it to nationals but regardless of the win or not he had a plan, a goal. 

There was no doubt in his mind that he couldn’t accomplish his goals with enough work. REGARDLESS OF THE OUTCOME OF THE TOURNAMENT. 

When he spoke to Ushijima after the game he already knows what he’s going to do. He’s not talking out of his ass when he says that his volleyball career is far from over. He’s not bullshitting when he says “This insignificant pride of mine… you better remember it” Because at this point he already KNOWS he’s going to Argentina to train. And I am assuming with José Blanco, since we see the speech from Blanco earlier during the match. 

Which is already pretty badass. Like he’s already commited to flying across the world to pursue his dreams. And as someone who has left home and lived across the country to get shit done, this does in fact take some nerve. TO leave your family and friends and go somewhere, where you know absolutely no one. It’s even worse when you go to a DIFFERENT COUNTRY.

When you first see this scene you don’t know all the plans oikawa already has in place. HERE he definitely can be interpreted as being stubborn and prideful. Someone who didn’t learn from his mistakes. And at this point Ushijima probably thinks that Oikawa is going to keep “walking the side roads and fucking up” but Oikawa is already on the path of proving them wrong. He’s already trying. Before the match, before this conversation Oikawa already had a route and the confidence to keep moving forward. 

Which makes this scene with Iwaizumi even more insane. He knew Oikawa was already flying across the world at this point. AND HE WANTED TO TAKE OIKAWA TO NATIONALS BEFORE THEN. As an Ace he’s was hoping to get them there at least once because after this Iwaizumi was going to college and Oikawa was leaving the country. HE ALREADY KNEW THAT THIS WAS THEIR LAST GAME TOGETHER. Because they don’t attend college together. 

Anyways I’m sobbing now. 

 And it makes this scene even more special. Because Iwaizumi isn’t talking out of his ass either. He knows Oikawa is leaving. And he’s basically telling him wherever you end up to - “Keep kicking ass. Keep being amazing and I’ll see you when we meet again. “

Remember guys no matter which path you take in life you’ll get there eventually with enough hard work. And as you can see I am still in love with Oikawa. 

💙💙Also look at how cute and proud everyone looks.💙 

Kageyama is like fuck me he’s here. How is it possible I’m still dealing with his ass. 

Ushijima with his cute smile like ah yes Tooru you proved me wrong. How could I have ever of doubted you.*sweats nervously*

Iwaizumi looking so happy like “You complete fucking idiot, I knew you could do it. But my carefully trained team is still going to kick your ass”

END

Anyways what should my next oikawa defense post be about.