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oathbips · 8 months

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It's You! Soulmate AU

summary: you got an invitation letter from the Japan Football Union to join the Blue Lock program and ran into someone special

word count: 5.2k

content: gn!reader x isagi yoichi, fluff, a lot of blushing from both parties, anri being your wing woman

author's note: this took FOREVER. 5.2k words is crazy. I'm not posting another one-shot after this one for a while due to school but please do leave suggestions on what my next one-shot should be. this feels horrible as i was reading it over but oh well, i already wrote 5.2k words worth of it so imma post it!

“I’m home!”

“Oh, welcome home Y/n! How was school?” your mother asked as she carried some boxes toward the dining table.

“It was okay. The soccer team seems to be getting the hang of everything now.”

“Ehhh. Oh! Speaking of soccer, a letter for you came in today. It’s from the Japan Football Union.” She placed the boxes down before reaching toward the middle of the table and picking up an envelope.

“Huh? Japan Football Union? Why?” Confused, you quickly take off your shoes and speed walk towards the mail. Opening it, it reads,

L/N Y/N, YOU’VE BEEN SELECTED FOR A SPECIAL TRAINING PROGRAM

“Ehh?! Me? What for? I don’t even play soccer.” You said, puzzled. Surely this was a mistake?

“Well, you are part of a soccer team dear.” Your mom replied as she starts to unpack her boxes.

“Only as a manager. Well… I do help out with checking their physicals and making sure they’re in top form but I’m not actually playing!”

“Maybe that’s the reason why you’re invited.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You asked, still confused.

Giving you an expression as if saying you are hopeless, your mom lets out a small laugh afterward. “Dear, you work in a clinic with your father and me. You basically grew up there. Always observing what we do and observing the patients themselves. You developed a keen eye for people’s physicality. Maybe they’re inviting you to help observe and keep the players in the program in top form.”

“…Oh. You think so? That does make sense.” You stated as you finally start to understand.

“Mhm. Well, are you going to go? I think you should. Actually, I don’t think you have a choice anyways.” She giggled before continuing, “I think this will be a perfect opportunity for you to learn more about the field and it’ll give you first-hand experience in dealing with athletes’ physicals. They’re the toughest patients to work on because they must keep up their health more than anyone.”

“But I don’t think I’m confident enough yet. I’m not at that level yet. What if my judgments are wrong?” You asked doubtfully.

“Trust your skills, honey. Besides, I don’t think they’ll have a child working there all by themself sweetheart. Another doctor will be there I’m sure. Learn from them and if you ever need any assistance, you can always call me and Dad.” Your mother reassured you. She unpacks the final box before walking towards you and bringing you into a hug.

“You’ll be fine. And who knows, you might even run into that soulmate of yours that’s been bothering you so much lately.”

“Mom!” Embarrassed for being called out on one of your worries lately, you try to push the matters away.

She’s not wrong. It has been bothering you lately. Everybody's soulmate's name always pops up on one of their body parts letter by letter the closer they get in proximity. All your friends have reached 3-4 letters into their soulmate’s name while you’re still stuck at your first letter, I. The first letter appears for everybody once they reach 14 and from there, it all depends on how close your soulmate is to you. The first letter for yours first appeared on your wrist on your 14th birthday. Having no letters appearing after the first just shows how far your soulmate is. Maybe they’re across the country? You thought that was the case many times before but your friends insisted it’s because you rarely go out unless it’s for school, soccer, and the clinic and it’s not like you don’t want to. It’s just that school, soccer, and the job at the clinic literally make up your whole schedule and time.

It seems silly to be getting so bothered over such trivial matters. It seems cliché but to you, it’s just a matter of curiosity. Your parents were bound soulmates and they found out when they worked together years ago then fell in love and got married. You don’t mind if you didn’t get that same fate for yourself but come on, who wouldn’t be curious about who their soulmate is? At least give another letter or two so one doesn't die from curiosity.

After a few more moments of recollecting your thoughts, you start to realize with a sense of hope that maybe your mom is onto something. The program will be huge with lots of people. Surely, a second letter has to pop up.

“That face is surely turning hopeful all of a sudden.” Your mother laughed once more then ruffled your hair. “You’re such an amusing kid. Okay, let’s get ready for dinner. Dad’s about to get home soon.”

The day of the meetup came and you made your way to the location the letter directed you to meet at with your suitcases on hand. Walking towards a building you believe is the correct address, the stone written sign in front proves you correct, The Japan Football Union.

“Ah, hello! You must be L/n Y/n!” A lady with shoulder length and light brown-reddish hair called out as soon as you stepped in front of the building. “My name is Anri Teieri. I’m a hire here at the Japan Football Union and an associate for the Blue Lock program.”

“Hello, nice to meet you!” You greeted the young woman with a bow. “The letter told me to meet here?”

“Yes, that is correct. Let me first explain the program to you. This is a program we have created by gathering 300 selected strikers and putting them through this program where only one can make it out to be the true striker that changes Japan’s soccer. I’m the one who selected you for the program. I believe this program can really use your skills for assistance.”

Taken aback by what she had just explained, you stood there for a few seconds trying to comprehend what she just told you. Only one can make it out? Then what happens to the rest? This sounds crazy. It’s like a gamble and everybody in this program is putting their career on the line.

Another moment or so passed as you let the idea sink into you before speaking up, not wanting to keep the woman in front of you waiting any longer, “… I see. But may I ask, how did you find…?” You tried to find the best way to ask the question. Though there’s no need since Anri caught on to what you were trying to ask.

“We looked through many soccer matches to select who should be in the program. In one of the matches I watched, I saw you assisting your team and co-directing along with your coach according to the players’ physicals which in turn, improved their plays afterward. I wanted to recruit you to help with Blue Lock.”

“Oh, I understand now. But I am still only a high schooler. There must also be an adult with solid education and certification for this program, right? I can’t be 100% sure on everything alone.” You expressed your concerns.

“Yes, of course. We have certified doctors here. I just think you have a special skill that could improve the players even more. The doctors are also there to guide you along the way.” Anri reassured you.

“Okay, that’s good. Then, I’ll do my best.” You bowed again and she gave a smile.

“Good! Follow me then. The letter did specify that you’ll now be living in the Blue Lock facility. We’ll have a car ready for you once the entrance “ceremonial” is over for the players.”

You began to follow her as she took you inside, passing a few rooms along the way. Walking by one, you got a glimpse of a room filled with what you believed were the selected players for the program.

“Woah.” You couldn’t help but feel so amazed at the sight you’re seeing. There were so many all gathered in one room. Anri then took you further away from the sight and into a room that looked like a waiting room.

“Just wait here for now. It won’t be long before the car is ready for you. I’ll be right back to help you depart.” Anri said and then left the room, leaving just you alone in there.

“Woah.” You repeated in your head again. This just feels so unreal and crazy to you. “I get to be a part of all this?” The events start to hit you again as you start getting nervous all of a sudden. “It’s okay. This is an opportunity for me. To hone my skills like Mom said. I’ll be okay.” You mumbled to yourself in an attempt to relax. You then settled on fiddling with your sleeves around your wrist as a distraction. It was then and there that something had caught your attention. Doing a double take on your wrist, you hurriedly pulled down your sleeve, revealing your wrist and there it was. You couldn’t believe your eyes. The second letter to your soulmate’s name had appeared. It was a S.

After Anri had helped you pack your stuff into the car, you were all set for the trip to the facility. She told you a while back that the players and staff are to take separate transportation. The staff was to arrive first and help set everything up a few days before the players arrives. So here you are, currently standing right in front of the Blue Lock building. It was a lot bigger than you had anticipated. You can’t even imagine the amount of money that they actually put into this whole thing.

“We’ll unload everybody’s stuff and then I’ll show you into your room,” Anri stated before heading off to help the other staff members unload their suitcases first. You got off and began to unload yours, however, you might have underestimated how heavy all your things really are as you struggled a bit to drag the suitcase out. Pulling with all your might and then stopping to take a break. You were about to resume the pulling until a hand reached out from beside you and grabbed your suitcase, pulling it out and lifting it up like it was nothing. He set the suitcase down for you.

“Here.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” You turned around to give thanks and bow. In front of you is a very slender man, dressed in all black. He wore glasses with black frames and had a bowl haircut. The tall man looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep in days and was a little unhinged.

“Woah, that haircut.” You thought before realizing how rude that was and shook your head to get rid of that thought. He continued to help unload your remaining things before setting off toward Anri. It was a little shocking seeing how easily he unloaded those stuff with such a slim build.

After everything was finally unloaded, Anri showed you to your room. The room was surprisingly a lot bigger than you thought. It was cleaned and neat down to the floor. It also had a personal bathroom and a whole TV. “Wow.” Was all you could think of once you laid eyes in that room.

Lunch was set out for everyone after they were settled. It didn’t take you long before you realized that you were the only student there, making you extremely awkward and out of place.

“You must be L/n Y/n. Your parents told me you’ll be here.” A man called out, breaking your little bubble.

“Hello, nice to meet you. You know my parents?” You stood up to greet the man.

“Yes, we used to work together. Told me to look after you and help guide you during this period at the program.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I’ll do my best.”

The two of you then chatted a bit about trivial matters until Anri approaches you and gives you a piece of paper. It’s the schedule for the day the players arrive.

“They’ll be arriving the day after tomorrow. You’ll help me that morning to settle them down once they arrive.”

“Yes ma’am!”

The day Blue Lock officially starts has now arrived. The players are scheduled to come in about an hour. You’re standing in position just like Anri had instructed you to. Once they arrive, you are to collect all their belongings and organize them accordingly. “Take all their belongings from bags to wallets, to their phones too.” Was what she said. You couldn’t help but think why couldn’t they just tell the players to leave behind their belongings instead but that was the least of your concern. What really has been on your mind ever since last night was the new letter that had popped up on your wrist two days ago. It happened when you entered the Japan Football Union building so that must mean your soulmate is one of the players. That also means the next letter will show up today once the players arrive. Waiting anxiously now the more you start to think about it, your body also starts to suddenly feel restless too so you begin pacing around your area for some time until the sound of buses pulling up could finally be heard.

“Everyone, if you could please get in a line and one by one come up to me when I call out your name and hand me your belongings that includes your phones. Once you hand them in, you’ll be able to enter the building and then be handed your uniform. The uniform will have a number and letter. Please head to the room corresponding to the letter on your uniform. Thank you!” You explained to the crowd in front of you.

Immediately complaints were made. Complaints ranging from why do they have to give up their phones to what kind of place takes people’s belongings, etc. Still, they all obliged and one by one gave you their stuff. As you collected each player’s belongings, you also kept an eye on your wrist and the roster you were given. Looking at your wrist, making sure when a new letter will show up, and looking through the roster trying to find an IS at the beginning of each name. To your satisfaction, a new letter did show up as you were calling up the next player. A loud screeching squeal came out of your throat out of excitement which in turn, startled the boy currently in front of you as he gave you a weird look.

“So sorry!” You apologized quickly after giving one more glance towards the letter then collected his things.

The new letter was an A. You grabbed the roster and looked through the list for an ISA but you were left with disappointment when none appeared. “Is he on the roster Anri has then?” You thought to yourself. It had to be the case if he wasn’t on yours, and the marks on your wrist are showing that he is close by. You decided that you’ll just ask for her list later.

After finally finishing the last player on your list, you slumped down on the nearest chair to catch yourself a break. It was only a partial amount of the 300, and you already felt exhausted. “How in the world will Ego even handle the whole 300?” You said aloud to yourself. Then, interrupting your thoughts shortly after was Anri approaching you, offering if you wanted to come watch the first selection with her and Ego, the coach leading this Blue Lock program and the one that helped you with your luggage when you first arrived.

“Huh? Already? They just got here.” You replied, surprised.

“The sooner the better. No time for leisurely here at Blue Lock, Y/n.”

“Uh- yes, ma’am.” You got up and started following her as she led the way to what you believe will be the observation room. Along the way, you asked her if you could see the list of names she had.

“Sure. Here it is. What do you need it for by the way?”

“Oh. Uh…” You debated on the thought of telling her the truth until you decided it’s probably best to just tell her so you don’t end up looking like some peeping Tom, stalking the players later. With a sigh, you roll up your sleeve, revealing the soulmate mark you have.

“Oh! So is that what it is?” She cracks a smile and laughs. This made you feel embarrassed as you cover your sleeve back down and try to hide your face behind your hands.

“I know it’s silly! But the letters started appearing after that day at the Japan Football Union meetup.” You told her, face still buried in your hands.

“Haha! It’s fine! Nothing to be embarrassed about. I have mine too, on the right side of my shoulder. Though, I actually never cared for it.”

“You never get curious about who it is?”

“At times, but I think I’m just too busy dealing with soccer matters most of the time to really care.” She then continued, “Hmm let me see, yours says ISA huh?” The short hair woman contemplated about it for a second before beaming once the realization hit her.

“Ah! Isagi Yoichi! His name starts with ISA.”

You looked through her roster and sure enough, the name Isagi Yoichi is there. Could that really be him?

“We’re going to observe the players with Ego. You’ll get the chance to see him. Once he shows up, I’ll point him out to you.”

The observation room was dark as ever once you arrived, with millions of screens on display. There in the middle of the biggest screen in the room, sat Ego Jinpachi.

“Are they starting yet?” Anri asked.

“Not yet. Give it another 5 minutes. They're still changing.”

“Okay, have you met y/n yet? This is them. Y/n, I’m sure you know who he is already.”

“Yes, he helped me with my luggage the other day. Thank you again for that.” You bow to him but he gives no response in return as he starts getting busy setting up for the first test.

“Don’t worry about him. He can be a bit-” Anri tried reassuring before Ego quickly interrupted.

“Oi stupid, I can hear you.”

Anri’s expression twisted to that of annoyance like her forehead vein was about to pop out, and you had to hold in a snort at how funny this scene in front of you was.

“Then be nice! They’ll be a critical role in this program!” The woman yelled even though it was going through one ear and out the other for Ego because he gave no replies to that either. You can hear her grumble even more at that nonexistent response.

“We’re beginning,” Ego stated and pressed a button which caused the entire room to be lit with cameras displaying the players in different rooms. He pulls up Team Z’s camera first and begins, “Are you done changing, you lumps of talent?”

And so the first entrance test begins. After greeting the players of Team Z and explaining to them about the first test, they all start playing a game of tag with soccer. You’re watching from the side alongside Anri as the test is about to start. A ball from the ceiling drops down and lands right in front of a boy with dark blue-blackish hair that has a V-shape fringe.

Anri immediately went to tap you on the shoulder. “That’s him. Isagi Yoichi.” She whispered.

Your eyes widened and your body stood still for a second. Is that actually him? “I went from having no new markings show up for years to actually seeing what he looks like with my own two eyes.” You thought to yourself. Your soulmate is quite literally in the same facility as you right now. You suddenly felt your face heating up while you were deep in your thoughts, and Anri looked over to check on you before letting out a giggle at the sight she was seeing.

“Your face’s freezing up! Are you blushing?”

“What? No-!” You tried to deny it really quickly.

This causes Ego to turn his attention towards you two when he heard the commotion and you immediately turned your whole body away from both of them at the speed of light.

“Please focus on the game! I’m not blushing!”

Anri was full-on belly laughing at this point until a glare from Ego made her stop. Digging an imaginary hole in your mind right now, you just want to jump it in and call it a day. You’re aware of how hot your face is feeling right now and why that was. It’s because he’s cute. Isagi Yoichi is so cute and it’s making you feel so flustered.

A few moments passed and you were still facing away from the other two in the room. You were trying to recollect yourself as best as you could so you can focus on the task at hand, observing the players. You were still in the midst of it until Anri basically slap your back causing you to whiplash around to see what was happening. She pointed towards the screen and you turned your gaze there to see that Isagi was now “it”.

“He took a pretty hard hit from Kunigami just now, the boy with orange hair.” She explained.

“Ouch.” You wince at the scene you're seeing. Isagi is crouching down from the pain and panting as he gets back up. He starts dribbling the ball and kicks it towards a group of people but they all were able to dodge it. So, he turns to the bald player that’s ranked under him and chases after him with the ball. He was beginning to struggle since the time was closing in. At that moment, you see one of the other players jump onto the boy Anri mentioned earlier, Kunigami. He’s laughing as he’s holding Kunigami and calls out to Isagi. Annoyed, Kunigami took hold of the boy and threw him, prompting him to land on the bald boy earlier. He was able to quickly recover and run away while the bald boy was still frozen up in a sitting position. You see him beginning to beg now in front of Isagi. This was getting intense and you were starting to sweat just from watching. You didn’t want Isagi to be eliminated here. You continue watching, silently telling him in your mind to shoot the ball. He sets the ball in position and is getting ready to kick when he suddenly stops. Your inner thoughts started yelling at him, confused about why he stopped but your thoughts were cut short when he started dashing the other way with the ball.

“What is he trying to do?” You thought.

That’s when the boy from earlier who held Kunigami went up to Isagi and declared, “I like you! You get it!” He took the ball from Isagi making him the tagger now. With only 11 seconds left, he dashes through a group of people and aims the ball toward the silver-haired boy.

“Kira-kun?!” Isagi called out.

He successfully dodges it and the time is now down to 7 seconds. The tagger jumped over him towards the ball and now it’s down to 5 seconds. At that very moment, the ball was kicked across the room, straight to Isagi again.

“Isagi, no!” You screamed in your mind. Your fists were clenching, and your teeth were biting at your lower bottom lip, hard. However, your anxiousness comes to a halt as you watch the expression on Isagi’s face. It was only an instant but he looked… mad. Not angry mad, but crazy mad. 2 seconds left, and he kicks the ball straight at the silver-haired boy, Kira, knocking him down. The timer goes off right there. He looks shocked at what he just did himself. That’s when Ego enters again, ending the first test.

You made your way back to your room, and as soon as you entered, you dropped on all fours on the floor. “That was so nerve-racking.” You cried out. Is this really what you have to go through every single day now? “And I’m not even the one playing, I can’t even imagine how the players feel.” But during those last seconds, Isagi was really different. It was like he was a whole new person. He’s… really cool. You ponder on those last 10 seconds again as you get up to change. Today was a long day, a rest was definitely needed. You started taking off your blouse first and went to throw it in the laundry bin. That’s when you noticed it again. The fourth letter to your soulmate’s name, G. “I must’ve been so focused earlier that I didn’t even notice it. ISAG, huh? Yea, that’s definitely Isagi Yoichi.”

The next day arrived, and you were making your way to the training room. Today’s schedule is just training for the players. For you, it’s to assist and give tips for their conditions. You finally were able to meet the players more personally. Starting from the top team, Team B, and downwards. Anri has been with you the whole day introducing all the teams to you and walking you through it all. Right now, you are currently making your way toward the Team Z training room.

“Eager?” She asked and you felt your face turning hot again.

“Stop! I’m just doing my job!”

“Haha! Don’t freeze up once you see him now.”

“I’m not…”

“Oh, here we are.”

She opens the door and all heads inside immediately turn towards your direction. They all stop their training and gather around the two of you. You made brief eye contact with Isagi before quickly looking away. You felt your face heating up and hoped it was not noticeable. He is so much cuter in person, and here he was, standing right before you.

“Everyone, this is L/n Y/n. They’ll be assisting you all on your physicals and health so if you have any concerns, do come and ask. They’ll be observing your training today.”

You were looking everywhere and at everyone except Isagi but in the corner of your eyes, you can still see how his eyes widened at you. You know that he knows now and he knows that you know. The both of you are now awkwardly standing there, one still shocked and one can’t bring to make eye contact for their life.

“Okay! We don’t want to hold you back from training any longer, off you go. Don’t mind us! Again, if you have any questions, please do approach Y/n.” Anri declared and sent them off to return to their tasks.

Everyone resumes their training. You and Anri watch from the sideline.

“This is your chance, you know.” She said.

“I know. But I’m kind of nervous..” You replied.

You glance at Isagi and see that he too was stealing glances at you. You took this chance to check your wrist again and his full name was now written out, Isagi Yoichi. It really is him and he’s standing right in front of you. You’re still nervous but you can’t let this opportunity pass by. Someone has to make the first move so you made up your mind and finally march your way towards him. He sees this and his expression turns to that of shock before quickly changing it to a small smile as he walks up to you too.

“Hi, I was already introduced but still, I’m L/n Y/n. I take that you know who I am as much as I know who you are.” You said and pull up the sleeve that was hiding his name then extended out your hand for him to shake.

He looks down at your hand and took notice of his name marking on your wrist. His face turns red at the sight of it but he still manages to return your offering handshake. His hand was surprisingly soft. It was warm and felt oddly comforting. This feeling made you giddy and you couldn’t help but break out a smile so big out of happiness. His eyes widen at this sight and the tips of his ears start going red too until he breaks out a big smile himself.

“I’m Isagi Yoichi. Sorry, my hand feels really sweaty. I was training… It’s nice to finally meet you.” He said then roll up his uniform sleeve and there reveals your name on the same spot you had his name on. He gave a bashful smile and then rolls it back down.

“I didn’t expect I’ll meet you here of all places.” He said.

“Same, your name never dared to show up so I thought you were across the country or something! I was dying from curiosity.”

“Haha, I gave up after a whole year of no lead but then it suddenly started appearing after I came back from the Japan Football Union the other day.”

“Yea, me too… I’m glad we’re finally able to meet.” You said.

“Same here.” He smiled at that.

“Oh… you were really cool the other day with your last kick.” You blush as you tell him that which made him blush hearing it.

“T-thank you! I don’t know what that was. I’m still trying to figure everything out.”

“Hmm. I see a lot of potential in you, Isagi. I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Really?”

“Of course, but your potential is something you have to work on and figure out. I know you will… Yea! That’s that! I don’t want to keep you from training any longer, please do resume. I’m here if you ever need anything.”

At this, He stares at you. Then his face turns motivated and determined. Giving you a firm nod of acknowledgment, he turns his back and resumes his training. You return to your spot on the sideline and it was then that you realized everyone in the room was staring at the two of you this whole time. Anri gave you a teasing proud smile.

“Please stop staring and resume your training!” You shouted, embarrassed.

From then on, you two continued your tasks at Blue Lock as usual. Small conversations were exchanged every time you passed each other. Those small convos soon turned into deeper conversations when meeting up after his matches. You became close with the others around him, Bachira, Kunigami, Chigiri, Nagi, etc. When they found out about you and Isagi being soulmates, they teased you both till no end and Isagi without fail, turned red every time. You helped him out when he needed it and improved his playstyles whenever he hit a slump. He supported you as you continued your studies at Blue Lock. You shared stories about each other. You first-handedly witnessed his growth in his personal skills and on the field. The way he completely becomes a different person at the heat of a game was wild to you but that didn’t change the fact that he looked cooler than ever during those moments. By the time the U-20 came about, the two of you were closer than ever.

“The U-20 match is about to start.” He stated and got up, making his way out into the field.

“Isagi.” You called out.

He turns around at the call of his name, “Y/n?”

“Good luck!” You cheered.

A smile appears on his face and he raises up his fist at you, “I’ll win this!”

#i actually really hate this after reading it help #blue lock headcanons #blue lock scenarios #blue lock #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock isagi #bllk isagi #isagi x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi fluff #isagi yoichi x y/n #oneshot #blue lock oneshots #isagi yoichi oneshot #isagi yoichi headcanons #fluff

159 notes · View notes

diabolicalacid · 2 years

Text

— ENDLESS NUMBERED DAYS

pairing : wakatoshi ushijima x gn!reader

wc : 22.3k

genre : angst to fluff

summary : wakatoshi loves you. this, he realises only when somebody else threatens to take your heart away from his own.

music : beth / rest by bon iver

©️diabolicalacid 2022.

wakatoshi let’s the volleyball flee from the grip of his fingers when he hears coach suzaku blow the whistle. suzaku walks closer to the bleachers, swaying his hand in the air to summon all the team members. just like that, practice comes to an end. the adlers catapult the volleyballs in their hand, and they land on the floor, scattering all over the place. everyone huddles around coach suzaku to receive an ending note.

“good job today, boys.” suzaku compliments his athletes, yelling at the top of his lungs to make sure all the players gathered around him hear him loud and clear. this earns him all smiles and the members start mumbling amongst themselves, extending compliments to each other.

while his teammates surround the coach, wakatoshi is farther off from the scene. he puts the volleyballs scattered around the gym into the basket, aiding the janitor in their job, while also listening in on what suzaku has to say to the team.

“take a day off tomorrow, boys.” banjō suzaku puts forth the suggestion he discussed with his assistant coach, and although he says it for their own benefit, he only collects a dozen of gloomy faces pouting at him. he sighs, debating, “you know i’m only saying this for your own good.”

a few feet away from the scene, wakatoshi hums in agreement with the coach, tossing the final volleyball into the basket before jogging towards the bleachers to unite with his teammates circling around the coach.

“you should listen to this old man once in a while.” suzaku chuckles, sprouting laughter from his team. he tosses his whistle to ikari, who stands in the sidelines, nodding at his superior’s words. romero interrupts the glee, stating, “but we always listen to you, coach.” he chuckles sheepishly, shrugging at suzaku, and wakatoshi drones in assent to his teammate’s statement as he looks back on his very particular regime.

he never disobeys the coach. whatever banjō suzaku insists on, wakatoshi does it better than what’s expected from him, and he believes that’s a part of the reason why he’s one of the best wing spikers in japan. there are days when suzaku asks him not to show up to the practice, and although he does want to come and wear himself out, wakatoshi denies himself the liberty to do so, knowing that between the two of them, suzaku has a better idea about what’s best for him. so when he proposes another day off, wakatoshi doesn’t mind spending it in the comfort of the four walls of his bare high rise apartment.

“and yet, despite my demand, i’ll still walk in on hoshiumi and kageyama practicing serves tomorrow morning.” suzaku taunts, eyeing the blueberry haired setter and the gray haired spiker who scratch the back of their necks, guilty of their crimes, steering clear of eye contact with the coach.

“we appreciate the day off, coach.” romero says, throwing his arms around kageyama and hoshiumi, pulling them closer to himself as he thrusts their backs, making them bow down to the coach in a promise, “you won’t be here tomorrow, will you?” he raises his brow at them, and they nod, conferring to his orders, “we won’t.” they say in unison, although everyone around knows they’ll still drive to the gym early in the morning to do some practice. suzaku only sighs, aware of the fact that he’s going to have to argue with them to send them home the very next morning.

“neither will you be here, romero and hirugami.” suzaku warns, goggling them, knowing all too well that following kageyama and hoshiumi, the next most notorious are these two who have a slightly better, but still a foul track record of disobeying him.

“i’ll spend the day with my son.” romero shrugs, proposing a fair enough counter argument to support his absence from the scene the next day, looking at hirugami from the corner of his eye, expressing his doubts, “but i’m not so sure about hirugami.” at his statement, fukuro nudges him, glowering, while everyone just giggles, excluding wakatoshi, who stands at the back, waiting for your email to arrive, checking his cellphone every now and then between the conversation he isn’t really a part of.

“alright, now, that’s enough.” coach heckles their laughter, wagging his hand in the air as he calls for his daughter to bring out the water bottles, commanding, “take a break, have your water and freshen up before you leave.” everybody nods, again, except wakatoshi, who stares at the blank notification column, drawing his phone into his pocket as he walks off to reach for his belongings.

the practice for adlers ends at exactly fifty six minutes past eight with the moon already risen up to its position in the night sky. after a day full of three versus three games, wakatoshi rests with his quotidian stoic expression, knees leaning against the edge of the wooden bench. he places his cellphone on the wooden platform and opens his duffel bag to pick out the necessities. he wipes his face with a towel, drawing out deep breaths as result of the exhaustion, still waiting on your text as peeks at his phone every two seconds or so.

suzaku’s daughter, the manager of the team, rushes in through the door of the gym with bottles in her hand, and begins distributing them, one player at a time. wakatoshi reaches out for his own bottle, bowing down to her in gratitude. she smiles before she moves on to offer a bottle to kageyama.

wakatoshi’s cellphone placed on the bench clanks against the old wood, voicing a somber humdrum, vibrating, because he had switched it to silent earlier to respect practice hours. the laconic tone that comes off is a witness to the arrival of a mail. his face brims with happiness, a soft smile etching onto his lips when he reads your e-mail address lit up on his screen, proceeding to hunch down to grab the cellphone.

wakatoshi, like most around him know, is a rather dry texter, a man of few words, someone who prefers to keep his affairs to himself. everyone who texts him knows not to expect much of a reply, or anything at all. he never really bothers looking at the notifications his phone receives, or answering the catalogue of unread messages on his device. they always end up unread, decaying at the bottom of his screen.

but every time he receives something from your end, wakatoshi smiles. slightly wider, slightly more fervently than he does on other occasions. every time your name shows up on his phone screen, he can’t help but rush to respond quickly, disagreeing to make you wait, and because you know his schedule, you never text or call during practice hours, making it even more convenient for him.

right now, you aren’t here in tokyo. you’re miles away on the other side of the world in an unfamiliar but fancied western land, while he’s in japan, participating in the only thing he really looks forward to other than you, volleyball.

the day before you left for your vacation, you showed up at his apartment with dinner, through the course of which you told him you would be writing mails to him, offering him an insight on your adventures in the states. wakatoshi, a simple man who loves volleyball, but also loves you just as much, promised you that he would read your mails and reply to those in due time. he couldn’t resist your puppy eyes and the excitement glistening within them.

he lifts his cellphone off the wooden bench to take a look at the latest addition to the list of mails he has received from you over the course of your trip. he’s pretty sure it’s inscribed with words of adoration for the foreign land. the streets of new york are pretty, he knows now because he read about it from you. the wax figures in madame tussauds look realistic and they’re even taller than him, making you look like a dwarf next to them. he knows now because he read it in the fourth mail he received. the times square is always bustling with a crowd of expectant people and while you were there, you almost got lost in the wave of citizens. he knows now because he read it in the second mail he received.

all of this. all the emails, the texts, the calls he receives from you, they never make him frown like texts and calls from most people do. wakatoshi isn’t big on the conversation part. he prefers to be by himself, hardly ever participating in conversations, but when it comes to you, it’s different. he wants to talk, laugh, cry, and he doesn’t mind it. not one bit. because it’s you. it’s you and you’re his best friend. you’re the one he grew up with. it’s always been him and you against the world. his buff body and rough exterior has a soft spot for you to rest and rejoice in.

while he’s in tokyo and you’re in the states, he always looks forward to learn more about your adventures in the foreign land. he cannot see you from here, but he knows your eyes shine the brightest as you write to him, looking back on your day, accounting everything you did. he thinks he knows you enough to know your expression must’ve lit up with immense joy as you walked on the streets amidst the chaotic hustle and bustle of the haughty crowd, ceasing your saunter at a new spot every two minutes to snap another picture to add to your skilfully kept and aesthetic instagram feed.

sometimes when he reads your emails, he wonders if you love the food there as much as you love the ramyeon his okaasan makes. he knows that you’re happy, laughing, but he wonders if it’s as much as you do with him when you stay over at his place. he wonders if you want him to be there as well. you never mentioned it in your emails before, but he wonders if there’s a part of you that wants him there to share the joy with you. but you’re with your significant other, so probably not.

all those pictures and attachments you send him end up preserved in his photo gallery under an album booked just for you. he hasn’t told you yet, but so far, he has managed to hold onto every single picture of you that you’ve sent him since you were sixteen. he’s running out of storage, struggling to accommodate more, but you’ll never know that. you’ll never know he loves you that much because neither does he really. he thinks this is how all best friends love each other.

usually you’re a ceaseless chatter box with no switch to tune you off. you’re annoying. always talking. but he loves to listen to you talk, no matter what time of the day it is, no matter how worn out he is from practice. there’s a certain kind of solace in the sound of your voice that wakatoshi has never felt before. when he looks at you happy, at your highest, his heart smiles at the sight and the face that’s almost always bleak, changes into a happier, more content version of itself.

wakatoshi feels a particular way when he’s around you but he can never put it into words. he can never quite elucidate exactly what his emotions are. but he knows his desire to see you happy every single moment of your life is strong. there are so many words in the vocabulary, but he cannot group any of those to explain what goes on inside his head when he thinks of you. he knows he cares about you, but he cares about tendo too. he knows he loves you, but he loves tendo too, except tendo doesn’t make him feel the way you do. wakatoshi just thinks it’s because he has known you for longer than he has known tendo.

he doesn’t want to think of this as love, so he doesn’t think of it much at all. this is just him being a good, caring best friend. there’s nothing more to it. someone like wakatoshi ushijima doesn’t have the time to fall in love. he thinks love is for those who have a lot of time on their hands and he isn’t one of those people.

wakatoshi isn’t exactly the quintessential type of a person when it comes to the expression of how he feels in the true sense. sure, he knows when he’s happy, he tends to smile. when he’s sad, he prefers to be with you or to be by himself. mostly with you though. but he doesn’t know what it’s like to express his feelings beyond that. with that bleak expression sitting on his face all the time, there isn’t much someone can conclude when they look at him.

to express himself without bounds, he’ll have to come to terms with the web of human emotions inside his head and his heart. for someone like wakatoshi, some things are better left ignored, so he never really puts in effort to think about his feelings. he prefers to start his day with a morning run and end it with a cup of hot water. there isn’t time to wonder about what actually lies beyond the usual happy and sad. he just lets it go every time the thought irks him. as long as you’re around him, he knows he’ll be happy and that has been enough for him so far.

for as long as he can recall, his life has revolved around and been all about volleyball. he was just six when his father started inculcating the essence of the sport inside of him and before he knew it, wakatoshi had fallen in love with it. then he grew up, got scouted by the adlers and ended up in a team full of hot headed men determined to do their best on the court. beyond this, wakatoshi only knew about the other things in life because he spent time with you and tendo.

you told him about your favourite manga once and he ended up walking three miles to buy it for himself. when he flipped through the pages, he didn’t really understand what you loved about the story so much, but he thought it was mostly because the main character was a good looking dude in his early twenties. what fascinated wakatoshi instead of the story were the advertisements by the sponsors.

you talked to him about your love for photography over a cup of tea and a plate of tiramisu one winter morning. you took him to the park to try out your new camera. three days later, wakatoshi had his own and started snapping moments around him. that’s how he ended picking up on a hobby. something to do other than just spiking volleyballs on a court. if it wasn’t for you, he probably wouldn’t have touched a camera in his life.

between volleyball, advertisements in the manga, photography and brand endorsements, he never really took out the time to think about his feelings. so other than the fact that your presence makes him happy and your absence makes him sad, he’s a mystery even for himself.

his deliberate ignorance regarding his emotions never rattled him quite like before this. in fact, he was alright being known as a man of few words and emotions. wakatoshi, before this, was content knowing bare minimum about what he felt about the people around him. for his brain, the only classifications grouping the people around him are— friends, family, good people, bad people, tolerable people. beyond this, he never thinks a lot. he cares about his friends and family, respects the good people around him, and convinces himself it’s better not to pay mind to the bad crowd.

but as he reads through your recent email, word after word, line after line, paragraph after paragraph, he wonders if he was a fool to not comprehend how he felt about the people around him, or at least what he felt about you. he thinks he should’ve pondered over what comes beyond happy and sad. he knows he loves you but now he doubts if it’s anything like what he loves tendo, or if it’s more than that.

wakatoshi thinks he loves you, but it’s nothing like he loves tendo. he thinks his love for you is rooted deeper than his love for tendo is, and he should’ve realised this earlier when he had enough time because now, he simply doesn’t and you’re in love with someone else.

his heart sinks to the bottom of his abdomen when he reads the final paragraphs. his stomach churns due to an uneasy feeling created by the pesky mix of digestive juices and hormones. his body feels warped in a sundry of troublesome emotions. he doesn’t know what these emotions are, and he doesn’t know if there are textbook definitions that fit to explain those. even if there are, for someone like him, for someone who never looked beyond happy and sad, looking for those definitions sounds impossible as ever.

the only feeling he can decently comprehend is that of bitterness. the kind of sensation his buds feel after eating kale or drinking a cup of strong coffee, but this time around, the feeling doesn’t stay merely confined to the epithelium of his tongue, and it doesn’t leave welts of its taste at the back of his throat, rather, it engulfs his body as a whole. all one hundred ninety two centimeters of wakatoshi ushijima.

ideally, he thinks, he’s supposed to be happy that his childhood best friend is getting married to the love of their life, someone they’ve spent the last two years dating and falling in love with. so he wonders if something is terribly wrong with him when the smile dissipates off his face as he reads your revelation. something inside of him must be twisted because all he really feels is pure, unsullied dread at the thought of watching you marry someone who isn’t him.

(one new mail, august 13)

to : [email protected]

from : [email protected]

toshi, hello from my side of the world. it’s not the thirteenth for me as i write this to you and neither is it for you. i know there’s still three hours to twelve, but happy birthday!

i cannot believe you’re turning twenty eight, toshi. i remember it like it was yesterday when you were a whole foot shorter, a little more chubbier and ten times more adorable. you’re still just as adorable but i don’t think i’ll ever get over the seven year old toshi who was four centimeters shorter than me and loved to play volleyball even then.

and of course i remember your kitten plushy that you had separation anxiety for. i remember we lost it once and you wouldn’t stop crying until okaasan found it behind my bed. what was its name again? bisco, was it? i don’t recall that well, but i hope you still have the plushy somewhere. perhaps in the box we kept all our old things in. i think that box is somewhere in your closet, so maybe you should look for bisco. i’ll be upset if i don’t get to see a twenty six year old wakatoshi with bisco the cat.

time goes by fast, toshi. this much i know because only yesterday we were seventeen, graduating highschool and today we’re in our mid twenties doing our own thing. even when you choose to spend your time cautiously, there’s never enough of it to live all the moments in their full glory. but i was lucky enough to spend the best moments of my life with you and tendo by my side.

when i look back on the years we grew together, there are many moments i want to relive. but more so, there are so many moments i want to experience for the first time all over again. but i know it’s just a fickle dream. we’re grown ups now. you have your priorities and so do i.

you know me. you know i have no friends other than tendo and you. but that never bothered me. i never felt the need to make new friends because you were enough and so was tendo. the two of you made me feel whole and so i never had to worry about being the odd one with no friends. i think, toshi, without you my life would’ve been hell.

let me be a sap just for today. forgive me for ruining the mood but my best friend in the whole wide world is turning twenty six and i get to be a little nostalgic about our best and worst moments together. so don’t judge me tonight. then again, you never do.

toshi, i know i say this a lot. like a lot. and even tendo finds it annoying. but i love you. i love you so much. and i don’t regret the fights we’ve had, the laughs we’ve had and the cries we’ve had because they’ve all contributed to who i’m today. and i’m grateful. i know i say i would pick belgian chocolate over you in a heartbeat, but today, i want to confess that that’s a big fat lie, and i love you enough to give up on the chocolate if you asked me to. it’s been us against the world for more than twenty years now and i want you to promise me twenty more years of that, and twenty more. and make it a pinky promise because we never break those.

let me get sappy today. no writing about what i visited and no pictures from the tour. this is just me writing to you on your twenty eighth birthday because i love you. of course i’ll attach a picture of the cake i bought in honour of your birthday. we came across a cute bakery on our way to the hotel and haruko suggested i should get a cake since it’s your birthday. haruko often asks about you, and i tell them you’re doing well. today, they’re sending you regards too.

do you remember how we met? i do, i still do. i’m not one to remember much from my childhood, but this particular memory never really dazed off. just so you know, i still haven’t forgiven you for that day. our first impression of each other was foul but isn’t it funny how far we’ve come since then. twenty years is a long time to know someone and i’m glad it was you i’ve known for so long rather than anyone else. i know i say the same thing every year when the number of candles on your cake graduates by one, but thank you for letting me say this all over again.

i’m sorry i can’t be there right now even though i want to. this will be the first time i’m not there on your birthday and i can’t help but feel like i’ll be missing out on so much. but more importantly, you won’t have any fun by yourself which makes me even sadder. but when i come back next week, we’re celebrating. i’ll force you to do it. we can invite the adlers too. but i’d prefer to be alone with you.

but here’s the thing, toshi, i think when i return, i’ll return with a ring on my finger. i think haruko took this trip with me to pop the question. i was looking for my sunscreen in their bag when i saw a box of ring. i know this is supposed to be your birthday greeting but i’m over the moon right now. okaasan will be so happy when she hears about this. she’s been nagging me about marriage for quite some time now. toshi, i’m finally getting married! we’ll celebrate that too when i come back. so wait for me.

i love you so much and i miss you even more. i’ll try calling you tomorrow so look out for that. have a great birthday, toshi. don’t overwork yourself just for a day and treat yourself even though i’ll do it much better when i come back.

much love, your yn.

he should be happy for you. ideally, wakatoshi should be over the moon that his childhood best friend might tie the knot once they return from their vacation, but the truth is, the smile on his face is only crumpling by the second at the thought of that. the very thought of your name along with haruko’s name, engaged and married in the same sentence induces a nauseating reflex at the base of his throat, making him choke, leaving him at a loss of words.

there’s a sudden urge to throw up, scream out loud for the world to hear until his lungs give up, to run to someplace only he knows the location of, to fall apart on the wooden floorboards of the gym, because really, there isn’t much wakatoshi can do following your revelation. if there’s anything that puts him to ease right now, it’s the fact that haruko still hasn’t asked for your hand in marriage, and although he knows it’s bound to happen by the end of the week, the thought that the day is still away puts him at certain ease.

the urge to lash out exists, but he cannot get himself to do much because he isn’t coded or programmed to understand his emotions well enough to express himself. and so, despite the mixture of desperate emotions that swirls within his belly, jumps to the base of his throat, forces a way out of his mouth, wakatoshi is quick enough to push it back and put on his usual bleak expression as he stares at his phone.

if this were a poor set by kageyama or a lazy spike by hoshiumi, he would have some criticism and technique to offer, supplementing to their correction. but he isn’t in the middle of a volleyball practice, rather, he’s stuck in the quagmire of human emotions, which just so happens to be an uncharted territory for him. he has no map to navigate his way out of this, nor does he have someone he can talk to.

wakatoshi is alone, all by himself in the middle of a hopeless, unfamiliar maze. coming to think of it, he does have tendo, who’s reliable enough when it comes to things like this, but perhaps the issue isn’t the absence of someone who would understand, it’s that wakatoshi himself doesn’t know how to talk about the things that bother him. he isn’t much of talker to begin with and this situation isn’t very ordinary either.

he wonders where he needs to go from here. perhaps he should start by calling you up to congratulate you on your possible engagement, but if he does that, he knows he won’t be able to take it and he might end up saying things that are better off unsaid. the easier way out is to pretend he didn’t get to read your email because he was busy filming a sponsorship, but that’ll most likely hurt your feelings, so that leaves him with no option but to reply.

he begins to draft a mail back to you but stops in the tracks when he thinks about it a moment longer. for the first time in your relationship, wakatoshi decides to be selfish, discarding the draft, and pushes his phone into his pocket. this solution where he hurts you doesn’t sit right with him, but there isn’t much he can do to help the situation, considering it hurt him just as much. he doesn’t plan on never replying to you. maybe he just needs a day or two before he can get to it.

romero notices the wrinkles taking a visible form on wakatoshi’s forehead when he looks into the gym from his position next to the door, only to spot his teammate still in place, still not ready to head home. while everyone else is already at the door or out of it, wakatoshi is engrossed in the dimly lit screen of his cellphone. his face speaks of no expression, and romero wonders the kind of distress he’s in that has left him detached from the world.

he knows talking to wakatoshi will make no difference whatsoever. he’ll just ask his teammate to brush off the worry and there isn’t a way romero will be able to coerce any explanation out of wakatoshi, so he decides to leave his teammate alone with his thoughts as he walks out of the gym.

romero would’ve preferred telling his teammate that he had someone he could lean on, but he knows wakatoshi wouldn’t. he isn’t the kind of person who prefers for people to share his burden when he can do it quite well all by himself.

plus wakatoshi is someone who maintains a formal relationship with his teammates. he never takes a part in informal conversations that the team members have. unless it’s talking about a game or coming up with strategies, he shows no interest, often observing from the sidelines with nothing to offer. arbitrary conversations don’t mean anything to him. he simply ignores, takes part in a completely different activity or leaves the rest of the team to indulge in their stochastic conversations.

“ushijima san, don’t you want to go home?” kageyama asks, standing at the door, sipping on a carton of strawberry flavored milk. next to him, hoshiumi looks at his teammate with expectant eyes, impatient to head home. kageyama’s voice tugs wakatoshi’s attention off his screen and he looks up to spot the setter and short spiker eyeing him.

“i’ll be right there.” he informs, waving at the two. there isn’t much flavour to his speech. there’s only the neutrality that defines his essence. kageyama nods at the confirmation, turning back to sip on his milk while scrolling through his social media. hoshiumi on the other hand, has something else to say.

“don’t take much longer, ushijima san, i’m hungry.” hoshiumi warns, rubbing his belly in an attempt to act out his starving nature in the true sense. kageyama looks at the spiker from the corner of his eyes, annoyed, but decides not to say much and goes back to his conversation with hinata.

“i won’t take much longer. go ahead, i’ll be right there.” wakatoshi reassures, pushing his teammates to get a head start. hoshiumi throws his arms around kageyama, forcing him to hunch down, pulling him out of the gym. kageyama’s neck almost snaps in two and he glowers at his teammate, giving him the side eye as they walk away.

wakatoshi proceeds to place his belongings into the duffel bag in front of him. he takes a hold of his phone again, stares at your email for a brief while before switching it off, unwilling to pen down a reply addressed to you. usually he writes back within an hour or two, but today, he wants to let it go. he thinks he wants to learn to let you go. he tosses his bag around his shoulders and sprints out of the gym, paving way to catch up with his teammates.

the ride home isn’t silent. kageyama and hoshiumi don’t know when to shut up. their conversation always keeps him company. wakatoshi, however, is silent himself. his teammates indulge in a conversation, and while he doesn’t wish to be a part of it, he offers some input from time to time. he keeps listening to their endless tittle tattle and anecdotes that are casually thrown in intermittently, but provide a false sense of comfort to his aching soul. he just wants to reach home, lie down and wipe your twenty five year old existence from his memory, even if it’s just for the night.

he isn’t upset with you. that’s not it. rather, his anger is aimed at himself, and as a self defense mechanism, his mind wants him to hate you instead, but truly, he doesn’t think he has a bone in his body that could hate you. it’s easier to put the blame on you than to hate himself, but he cannot really bring himself to hate you, so he hates himself.

you’ll return next week and his apartment is the first place you’ll visit when you come back. so he finds it quite difficult when he thinks of the fact that he’s going to have to feign being okay when he comes to face you. you’re most likely to return with a ring bracing your finger and wakatoshi doesn’t know how he’s supposed to face you knowing you’re no longer his to claim. you were never really his to begin with. he never gave you the chance to love him, but that doesn’t mean knowing that makes this hurt less.

right now, while he’s staring out of window, listening in on a conversation about sneakers versus crocs, wakatoshi hates all the moments he could’ve had with you but decided to bail out on. it’s not that he didn’t get to spend time with you, but the thing is, all the time he spent with you seems futile if it was never enough to make him realise the true nature of his feelings for you.

he knows he hurt you by declining your offers over and over again, and there isn’t any excuse he wants to offer to defend himself. just because you never said it, doesn’t mean you were okay with it, and all these years, wakatoshi never thought about his negligence much, but now, now that it’s a little too late, he can’t help but regret all the times he said no to you.

you’re in your freshman year of college when your roommate marin comes up with a full proof plan to join a sorority. for the first few days you don’t think it’s a good idea by any means, and you’re irresolute to take up the offer. by the end of your first month at college, marin somehow convinces you to tag along for the recruitment process. both marin and you get in without much effort, piquing the interest of the leader and her side chicks at the first meeting itself.

you aren’t the one to socialise. for as long as you can recall, wakatoshi and satori are the only close friends you’ve had. sure, marin is a friend too but you don’t think your relationship goes beyond sharing a room and sharing a major. plus you’re well aware she would rather mingle with people at an event than keep you company in a quiet corner.

so when you get invited to an imposing event organised by your sorority, you decide to leave your spare invitation on wakatoshi’s desk, hoping he’ll show up and you won’t have to attend the party sulking alone in a corner, pining to move out. wakatoshi returns from practice and finds the invitation perched on his desk. he does read and give it a thought but as the lassitude from volleyball practice catches up to him, he ultimately tosses the invitation into the bin with the thought that you’ll understand his actions.

you wait for wakatoshi outside the venue. he’s never not punctual, that much you know after you’ve watched him to do everything on time since he was seven. so you ring up his digits to enquire about his whereabouts. a part of you already knows he isn’t on his way to the venue in the first place, but a part of you agrees to offer him the benefit of doubt.

“toshi, aren’t you coming?” you inquire, delving for some information about his whereabouts, twirling your fingers with the metal strap of your sling as you sway in a tone of anxiety.

“not really, i’m not in the mood right now.” he informs you, shrugging, sounding so tired that you almost feel guilty for tossing him an invite in the first place.

“that’s okay, toshi. take care.” you sigh, reassuring him, smiling, although he can’t really see it through the phone. you understand wakatoshi is tired from volleyball practice, so you don’t feel like you need to hold a grudge against him for this.

“i’m sorry about this, yn.” he apologises and it’s one of the many you’ve heard over the years whenever he wants to cancel a plan. “you have fun though.” he chuckles, hoping to encourage you to have a good time at a party where you don’t really know anyone. you know it’s going to be a long night and no fun, but you still nod your head at his words, humming, breathing out, “bye, toshi.” you say before you cut off the call to move inside.

you walk into the venue, grab a drink from the table and beeline your way to a cozy corner you find next to the giant stairs. you spend the rest of the night sipping on the same glass of mock tail from time to time, espying the people around, rethinking your decision of tagging along with marin to the recruitment ceremony.

rain pours in buckets, the cloudburst is certainly heavy. thunder roars along, and you don’t find it in yourself to head to bed alone. marin isn’t around tonight. she’s out with her boyfriend. except when she left, the skies were clear and you didn’t predict the possibility of rainfall. although the weather isn’t really reliable these days, who would’ve thought it would rain cats and dogs following over twenty hours of clear skies.

you feel alone tonight. the sound of thunder makes your muscles twitch in fear, the loneliness clouding over your head in the dim lights of your dorm. you vie for a company on a night like this when you can’t afford to look for peace within yourself, so you call up the only person you can really rely on in times like these. wakatoshi. it takes him a while to answer the phone. actually, you have to call him up twice before he finally answers the third time around.

“toshi, hey.” your voice quivers, fading beneath the sound of the lightning strike that flashes across the black night sky. wakatoshi doesn’t notice this while his attention is fixed on kageyama who waits at a distance, looking at him with desperate eyes to make another set to the spiker.

“hey, yn.” he greets you, signalling his fellow player to wait for a moment before they can proceed with practice. “do you need anything?” he questions, hoping it’s nothing serious and something you can resolve on your own. it’s not that he doesn’t want to help you out, but the adrenaline rush right now is phenomenal and he doesn’t want to let go the opportunity to practice while it’s still on.

“can you come over?” you ask him, sighing at the sight of the downpour outside, moving in closer to the window to observe the night sky, waiting for wakatoshi to tell you that he’ll be there in ten.

“right now?” he questions, unsure of giving you a positive reply. “i don’t think that’s really possible.” he denies your request, although it’s with a heavy heart and he feels the guilt gnawing at his edges, it’s still selfish. but he thinks you’ll be fine. “i’m busy.” he informs, and though he doesn’t say it, though there’s no mention of the sport, you know he’s at the gym playing volleyball. you can hear hoshiumi and kageyama chatting in the backdrop, plus you know there’s only one thing that keeps wakatoshi busy, and it’s volleyball.

“it’s okay, i understand.” you sigh, smiling at yourself in pity as you move closer to your bed, hoping the loneliness won’t make it difficult for you to sleep tonight. you cut the call and get into your bed only to spend the rest of the night in fear of the thunder and with the loneliness heckling the peace of your mind.

the next morning, taking a bite from your plate stacked with four pancakes, you question wakatoshi about the night before, “so, what were you busy with?” you know he was busy with volleyball, but you still want to hear him admit it himself. he looks up from his own plate, clearing his throat before answering, or rather confessing, “i was with kageyama.”

“playing volleyball, i suppose.” you say, sternly, pretending to make a guess despite knowing already, sighing, your expression changing into a sour one, but you don’t let him notice as you look up with a neutral face.

“yea, that.” he admits, sipping the orange juice and you stare at him with the same neutral look, waiting for him to look you in the eyes. when he finally does, you admit to something too. “i wasn’t able to sleep last night.” you tell him, chuckling sarcastically, gyrating your neck to the side to avoid his gaze, prompting that you’re disappointed in him. “i was alone.” you tell him, nodding, recalling just how difficult it was for you without him or marin there, when he knew just how afraid you are of the rain and thunder but still prioritised volleyball over you.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know.” he drops his fork into the plate, extending his hand to find yours on the table. he takes it in his, but you draw away from his touch, expressing your disfavour regarding his actions. wakatoshi takes his hand back and proceeds to pick up the fork to eat again.

you clear your plate from the table, walking away from him to put the left over pancakes in the refrigerator. he sighs, regret blemishing his existence as you leave your place to head out to work without giving him any instructions regarding the things around the house or waving him a goodbye.

“so the next game is on the upcoming friday?” you ask kageyama once again in order to confirm if you heard it right the first time around when he told you about it. you were curious when wakatoshi was playing next and when you asked him two days ago, he skipped over the question eloquently, ignoring your concern.

“yes, the next game is on friday, yn.” he sighs, looking up from the documents he’s busy reading through and signing, as he purses his lips, offering you a reconfirmation regarding the date of the game. you smile at him with gratitude, going back to type his updates stats in the official records.

that night, sitting next to wakatoshi on his couch, you pop a question about what you learnt from kageyama, “why didn’t you tell me you had a game on friday?”

“huh?” he looks up from the manga he’s reading, or rather the advertisements, and the gesture on his face is enough for you to understand he didn’t manage to catch the question you asked him.

“the game. why didn’t you tell me about it?” you repeat, this time, raising your brows at him, demanding an answer. he puts the manga on the coffee table, turning to face you as he tells you, “oh about that. i forgot.”

“you forgot?” you sigh in disbelief, falling short of words to come up with. he just forgot to tell you about an upcoming game. that doesn’t bother you as much, but you really like showing up to his games to support him. so to say that you’re a little hurt would be right, but still, you ask him, “can i come to the game?”

“i don’t think you should.” he shrugs, turning down your request to attend his game, instantly changing the expression on your face. the smile on your face as you asked him about it fades off to turn upside down. you look down into your phone, continuing to scroll through your social media. “it’ll wear you off.” he reasons with you, considering that attending a game after work will only tire you off, making it difficult for you to start the next day on a peaceful note.

“then i won’t.” you nod, frown on your face, attention taken off wakatoshi, but he doesn’t even notice. he picks the manga off the coffee table and continues reading it, while you don’t make any effort to continue the conversation.

you never understand what’s with him when he asks you not to attend his games. you don’t know if it’s because he’s embarrassed about it, but then again he loves volleyball so that’s not it. satori always tells you wakatoshi thinks his skills still aren’t not good enough for you to be losing energy over.

you don’t get it, really, you think he’s a great player. you’ve been to his games before. you’ve seen him on the court. not that you understand much about the sport to draw apt judgement, but everyone says he’s the ace so you don’t see why he would think he isn’t doing a good enough job for you to watch.

whatever it is, one of these days, you want to attend one of his games without showing up unannounced. you wonder when wakatoshi will finally invite you to one of his games. you sure hope its for one of the games before he reaches the age of retirement in his early thirties.

on a chilly winter morning, obaasan tells you crafting a thousand paper cranes brings one good luck. you aren’t the kind who believes in such superstitions. if this were a conversation on any other occasion, you would pretend to agree with her and ultimately end up disbelieving whatever she had to say. but with wakatoshi’s first game as a part of a professional volleyball team coming up, you can’t help but give her words a benefit of doubt.

“so, obaasan, exactly how do you make a paper crane?” you ask her, clammy palms stroking the silk fabric of your new clothes as you sit across her, legs folded, attention undivided, on the tatami mats arranged around the coffee table.

“it’s simple.” she tells you, reassuringly, drawing the cup of green tea away from her lips, placing it on the coaster before she tears a piece of newspaper big enough to turn into a crane.

obaasan teaches you how to craft a paper crane over the next two hours. ideally, it shouldn’t take so long, but creativity isn’t your strongest virtue, and it takes a few tries before you get the folds of the paper crane right. you don’t know if a thousand paper cranes will bring him any luck, but you hope wakatoshi will still win the first game he’s going to be a part of.

you walk to the shop close to your house, nervous figure trying to quell its anxiety, hands dripping with sweat, daubing the strap of your sling bag, worried about a game you aren’t even a part of, to buy origami paper to make wakatoshi a thousand paper cranes over the course of the night.

the first few cranes you craft end up looking a little out of place, wobbly, out of character. but with every new crane that takes shape, it looks better than the last. you craft the final paper crane at six minutes past five in the morning, when obaasan comes in with a cup of tea for you, smiling when she looks at the cranes scattered around your bedroom waiting to be escorted to their final destination. she doesn’t know what the reason is, but looking at the cranes still makes her heart swell, wondering what’s so special about the occasion you’ve built them up for.

the day before his first match, you go over to wakatoshi’s place at nine in the morning, a little while after he leaves for practice, asking his okaasan if she would so kindly allow you to place your creations in his bedroom. she lets you in and you arrange the cranes around his bedroom. she watches you do so from the door, not questioning your actions but she still ponders how her son will receive it. a bunch of paper crafts scattered around his bedroom, swaying to the beat of the soft winds, wakatoshi is more likely to be bemused than thankful about it.

that night, after he returns from practice, wakatoshi finds himself in a difficult situation, more or less perplexed, surrounded by a bunch of paper cranes in his bedroom, unaware of their origins. you didn’t really tell him what you were planning to do, so he’s pretty much clueless about it. he probably thinks okaasan did it. he walks out of the bedroom, pacing to her room, questioning her, “what’s with the paper cranes?”

“oh those?” she looks up from the shopping magazine she’s flipping through, adjusting her glasses as she tells him, “yn bought those over.”

“oh, i see.” wakatoshi walks back into his room, still unsure of the paper cranes or the reasons for their origin. he doesn’t know that the paper cranes are supposed to bring him luck, so he collects them one at a time, placing them into a big enough polythene bag, and the bag finds a way next to the trash sitting outside the back door.

“so, where are my paper cranes?” you ask him, walking into his room the next morning to meet him before he goes off for the big game, descrying the sight in front of you that’s devoid of the little things you stayed up making.

“those?” he shuffles through his duffel bag, making last minute additions, then looks up to face you to offer you an explanation, “i threw them off.”

his words bite the edges of your heart as they fall into the space separating you. you spent all your night crafting those cranes only for him to throw them off without considering the sentiment behind your efforts. but despite the sour feeling gurgling at the back of your throat, you smile at him, although irately, saying, “they were a good luck charm, wakatoshi.”

“you know i don’t believe in that stuff, yn.” he sighs, feeling a little bad about disregarding your efforts. you want to tell him you’re hurt. you want to tell him you stayed up all night making those just for him to have a great game. but you restrict yourself, proceeding to help him pack his stuff before he gets late to reach the gym for a final practice before the game.

there are many things he regrets now, but most of all, he thinks the larger chunk of his regret stems from his ignorance towards his emotions and his ignorance towards his feelings for you. so more than anything else, he regrets not loving you, and not just like he loves tendo, but a lot more than that.

wakatoshi enters his bedroom. he puts his duffel bag on the king sized bed that almost always smells of lavender, smells of you, because you spend most of your free time in his bedroom, snuggled up in his soft cushions. when the smell of your lavender perfume lurks around his nose, he wishes his thoughts and memories had a button that could turn them off, at least for a while, because thinking about you isn’t doing him a favour right now.

you’ve been away for more than a month now, but his bed, his room, his apartment still reeks of your flowery scent. it’s just another crushing reminder of how often you hang out with him and spend all your time being his number one supporter, not only uplifting him as an athlete, but also pushing him to be a better person.

his apartment is something he signed the formal documents and the cheque for, but in true sense, it’s more a shared apartment between the two of you. whether he’s around or not doesn’t matter. your presence around his place isn’t affected by his absence. you’re there whenever your schedule allows you to be, experimenting new recipes in his kitchen or napping underneath the soft covers of his bed after a long day at work. whatever it is, wakatoshi has nothing against it. he has a soft spot for you, after all.

he flumps on to the left side of his bed, slumping into the soft cushion resting against the headboard. he lets a sigh escape his lips, uneasiness burgeoning with every passing moment, heart sinking deeper following every successive breath. wakatoshi wonders if you were here next to him, would he dare to kiss you. he wonders if he would have it in him to confess. and he knows you’re in love with shimada haruko, and they’re a good person. they give you enough love, enough happiness, he knows that, and he also knows it would be wrong to make move on you now, but he still wonders if it has a chance to work out somehow.

it’s second nature for him to occupy the left side of the bed because you always occupy the right whenever you come over. over the years he has known you, he has grown habitual to sleeping on the left, because you spend most of your nights sleeping on the right next to him. now that he looks back on it, he wonders if there’s any reason why he never realised he loved you when you were right next to him every moment of his life.

he scoots to the right side of the bed, feeling the soft fabric of the coverings against his calloused hands that years of playing volleyball have gifted him. your scent lingers in the folds of his sheet and he can smell it clearly without much effort, the scent of the expensive perfume he gifted you on your birthday. the scent is so strong, it’s almost as if wakatoshi hasn’t put the sheets for a wash in a while, or perhaps the amount of detergent he uses isn’t gracious enough. his sheets stench of nostalgia and they remind him of you.

tonight, he wants to forget your existence. just for a brief while, even if it accounts only for a second or two, he doesn’t want to regret not loving you while he still had the time to. it’s only been an hour or two since he started walking down this maze of feelings and realization, but the weight of a broken heart has already become difficult for him to bear. he thinks spiking volleyballs all day long is easier than carrying the weight of a broken heart. so, just momentarily, he wants the only love of his life to be volleyball all over again. because in this moment he knows he can never not love you after today. the platonic ties that bound the two of you together so far have been dismantled to atomic snippets.

usually, when your smell diffuses around his monochrome, dull apartment, wakatoshi likes it because it gives his place a more vibrant vibe but he doesn’t like it anymore. he wants his apartment to smell exactly what it looks like. simple, plain and boring. the only things that stand out and catch one’s eye are the things tendou and you purchased for his apartment on your countless trips to the mall.

every touch against the soft fabric on your side of the bed reminds him of what your skin felt like brushing past his, and that never really soaked him in a peculiar feeling of sorts. wakatoshi met you when he was six and he has known you ever since. your touch isn’t a foreign feeling. if anything, it’s a lot like home. but tonight, he feels like he’s always been a stranger to it.

everything around his apartment bears a memory associated with you. every article sitting around the place has a telltale regarding how it ended up in the place he calls his home. wakatoshi is a simple man with no knowledge of design and tendou and you thought he shouldn’t partake in designing his own apartment. it was you who obtained and bought most of the things that are now a part of his home. from the utensils to the blankets to the bedding to the sanitary products, everything was your contribution while wakatoshi only carried the heavy boxes in and out of the door. tendou wasn’t much help while he was still in france, but he did send some things wakatoshi could use to decorate his place.

a vague smile whittles wakatoshi’s agitated expression when he looks back on the days that were filled with sunshine, happiness and love. nostalgia is certainly a wonderful feeling when it brings up the good memories, and he had never experienced it before this moment. his first experience could’ve been under better circumstances, but despite the odd situation around him, looking back on the memories he packed with you still feels good to his heart. like a cup of warm tea on a rainy evening.

wakatoshi isn’t elated at the thought of having to give you up to someone else who’s as good as a stranger to him. he has met haruko before and he knows they’re a good person, at least they seem like on the outside, but that’s as far as their interaction goes. from what he knows, haruko is involved in real estate and often busy, so they never really showed up to dinners wakatoshi and you invited them on. but he knows they’re not a bad person by any means because whenever you talk about them, you always do it with a wide grin leaning across your lips and that’s indication enough for him to trust haruko.

but even as his heart aches at the thought of losing you, he can’t help but smile a little as he looks back on your time together. he knows you’ll still be here. you’ll still be right next to him, but you won’t be his to keep. then again, only he’s to blame. so he stays there, looking back on the memories for a brief while until he remembers he needs to reply to your mail. he knows he said he wouldn’t do it, but leaving you hanging wouldn’t be right either. after all, you aren’t the one to blame for his heartbreak, only he is.

wakatoshi stares at the screen in front of him for six minutes, until he finally holds the power button to light the screen up. on the lockscreen is an old picture of him and you that tendou took in secret. he observes it for a moment or two. you look the same, more or less, other than the fact that you’re a little thinner now, a little more tired, thanks to your job and kuroo’s exemplary talent as an efficient boss. wakatoshi views himself, realising he looks a little older now. his face looks more mature, body a little more toned from his regime.

the picture is from when you were nineteen, taken on the day he got scouted by the adlers and you went out to celebrate the achievement. you’re standing under the cherry blossoms, giggling at something while a smile is pinned on his face as his arm takes you by the waist. when wakatoshi remembers the conversation you were having, there isn’t much to recall except the bad joke you cracked and laughed at yourself, still warranting a smile from his end, but it still warms his heart. and he wonders if he was in love even when he was nineteen and more dedicated to volleyball, and if you were in love too, but just like him, you never really got the chance to say it.

he still can’t put a pin on the feeling that roves around his veins when he thinks about you. maybe it really is love and maybe he has always known love. it’s always been around him in the little things you’ve done for him or in the things he has done for you. it’s always been around in the time you’ve spent together, whether in silence or while indulging in something productive. love has always been around wakatoshi but he was never vigilant in the slightest to notice it’s tight lipped presence.

he thinks he has been in love with you for the longest time now but his ignorance is what held him off ever realising that the love existed inside his heart. it’s okay, really, because some people just aren’t built to converse with their hearts and wakatoshi spent his teens preaching the thought that love wasn’t for people with bigger dreams. people like him who strived for more than just a person to spend their lives with. but tonight, he wants to understand his heart and he wants to ask it if it’s really love that he feels or if it’s just something irrelevant that showed up on a whim. deep deep down he knows the answer to it, but if there’s even the slightest chance that it’s not love, he wants it to be true.

for once, he needs to recognise what love is and he needs to train himself to accept its existence if that’s what it really, truly is. he needs to train himself to hold on to it while letting you go on the opposite end of the stick. wakatoshi just needs to make peace with his feelings so that he can face you when you return, so that he can anchor his thoughts deep into his stomach, prohibiting them from ever stepping out. he just needs to accept the love and let you go, but really it isn’t that easy, so he drops his phone to side, deciding one last time that he doesn’t want to write back, not tonight. maybe tomorrow, under the new beams of the same, old sun, he might.

he peeks out of the glass window, descrying the raindrops that descend down in the dead silence of the night. he was so caught up in his own thoughts, the arrival of rain never made it to the field of his perception until just now. in his monochrome bedroom, sitting on the sheets that stink of the memories of you, wakatoshi finds the answer he’s been looking for. this isn’t just something he started feeling on a whim.

love has always been there with him and around him. this love held him close when the world let him down. at eighteen when his mother urged him to quit volleyball, this love encouraged him to fight back for his passion. this love cried along with him when he wanted to fall apart. after losing to karasuno at seventeen, only this love saw him crying while the rest of his team thought he was unfazed by the defeat. this love also built him up, one piece at a time, making sure the pieces put in place don’t crash to the ground even at the stroke of the strongest winds.

he knows now that what he feels for you is love and it’s not something that stemmed up recently. it has always been around, lurking in the corners, waiting for its presence to be noticed. he’s in love with you but you’re in love with somebody new. so he needs to let you go. but love is arresting. it’s captivating, bizarre, comely, unsettling, terrifying, spine tingling, intoxicating, all at once. so he doesn’t know how to let you go. the addiction brought along with the intoxication by love is being made known to him, and if this is what true love in its most raw form feels like, he wishes he had known it a tad bit earlier.

but despite the newfound love and the hesitance to let you go, he’s still somewhat ready to let you go without ever confessing, because if you’re going to be happy spending a lifetime with haruko, he doesn’t mind giving up on you.

wakatoshi paces up to the spare closet in his bedroom, casting its door wide open. he enters inside, squatting down to scrimmage through the mess on the floor, looking for the brown cardboard box packed with articles from your past neither of you had the heart to get rid of. keeping the box was your idea. there were pictures he never knew were taken that you persevered, toys that meant more than what they looked like, letters exchanged on several occasions, pieces of clothing only his hands would fit into now. more or less, it was a waste of space but he’s glad you chose to keep those things safe and trusted him with it.

he finds the said box hiding in a corner, covered by his shiratorizawa jersey and although he cleans the spare closet every now and then, he still finds dust bunnies resting on the box when he takes off the jersey. he doesn’t recall the last time he opened the box but he’s pretty sure it’s been more than an year now. he has been busy with volleyball, but more importantly, when there’s you who can remind him of everything with your chatter, he never felt the need to revisit old memories through some articles preserved in a box.

wakatoshi scoops the box into his hands, folding his legs to place it in his lap. he scurries the dust off the surface, flinching when a dust bunny finds its way in the peripheral of his nostrils. he opens the box and the first thing he comes across is bisco the cat, who he was certain wasn’t there in the box last time around. he lifts the cat, chuckling as he remembers it’s mention in your recent mail, putting it to the side, noting to hand it to you later on for whatever reason you need it for.

underneath bisco is a shrivelled photograph of a seven year old wakatoshi next to a six year old yn. arms crossed, cheeks puffed, necks turned to the opposite sides, taken after a fight over what game to play. his hand reaches out to lift the picture you tried so hard to preserve but somehow time still ended up finding a way to wither it’s beauty away, but wakatoshi knows the essence lives on. you’re both smeared in dust and he recalls the fight wasn’t over a game, rather it was because he stumbled upon you, quite literally, making the two of you fall to the ground, ruining your clothes in the process.

wakatoshi chuckles at the picture and at the memory it casts a light upon as he balances himself on his way up to his feet. he walks out of the closet to take a seat on his bed, sinking back into to heap of pillows lining the duvet with the box still in his possession, a soft gaze admiring the photograph in hand, and a wide grin still locked into his face.

the sun is halfway down, merging with the coastline, flickering orange red in the evening sky. your otosan sits on the wooden bench, reading a business magazine he picked up from the shelves of a convenience store on your way to the park. meanwhile, a few feet away from him, you stand in a queue, waiting for your turn on the swing.

you balance on your tip toes, leaning to your side, neck bending outwards to look out for the number of kids lined up before you. you count four kids standing in front of you, tapping your feet in impatience. you’re no good with calculations, but the number of kids waiting for their turn in front of you makes it obvious that it’s going to be a while before you get to play on the swing.

wakatoshi enters the park, one hand locked with his otosan’s, while the other holds a volleyball. however, despite the urge to play volleyball, the swing set is the first attraction that catches his attention, and he sprints in its way, letting his hand off otosan’s grip. unaware that you’re a part of the queue, he takes a spot in front of you, cutting it, but you don’t notice it instantly.

you’re distracted by a blue butterfly fluttering around you, giggles brimming in the space surrounding you every time your fingers graze its delicate wings and it changes the trajectory of its flight. the butterfly fleets far off. you notice a fifth figure occupying the space in front of you, while you remember counting only four. instead of the little girl who stood right in front of you two minutes ago, there stands a boy around your age, a bit shorter than you. olive hair, broad stature, volleyball in hand. you realise he broke the queue while you were distracted playing with the butterfly, adding another ten minutes before you can take the swing. there’s a possibility you won’t be able to take a turn at all because it’s getting late, and it won’t be long before otosan drags you back home.

“you’re in the way.” you state, tapping his shoulder, cheeks puffed, eyes narrowed, and fists clenched to your sides.

the boy in front of you pays you no mind. he isn’t aware your words are meant for him to listen to, and to him, the light tap on his shoulder is just a leaf falling from the tree over your heads. he stands idly, waiting for his turn on the swing, further aggravating your frustration, compelling you to resort to violence.

you don’t actually hit him, instead, you tap his shoulder, heavily this time around and thrice, stomping your feet, agitated, raising your voice, “hey, you’re in the way!”

before he can turn around, you yell again, “you’re in the way.” this time, you push against his shoulder, demanding his attention, reducing him to his knees in the process.

he lands on his knees, making a loud sound as he hits the ground. it doesn’t seem to bother you that you have potentially wounded someone and your otosan might not find it very kind of you. what matters to you is that he’s in your way and he ought to move behind so that you can take your turn on the swing. you stare at him, eyes still narrowed, arms crossed and a frown besmirching your face.

“ouch, you hurt me.” he complains, looking at you, then at his knee that is lightly scraped from the impact. the palm of his right hand appears scratched as well. he blows air onto his knees and his palm, attempting to pacify the burning sensation. when you look at the sight in front you, you certainly feel guilty about it, and it makes you want to throw in an apology, but you stand your ground, repeating, “you cut the line.”

“you’re in the way.” you state, confusing him furthermore. he doesn’t really understand why you pushed him in the first place, and now something about him being in your way makes not sense to him whatsoever.

“what was that for?” he asks upfront, supporting himself up on his feet. he dusts his clothes to free them from the pelts of the soil, then takes two steps closer to you, almost making your lose your balance at how intimidating the kid in front of you looks.

“you cut the line, and papa says it’s a bad thing to do.” you tell him, scoffing at him, explaining him the mistake he made and why he deserved to be thrown to the ground at your hands. the boy in front of you scoffs right back, viewing your take on the situation as mere stupidity, and before he can say anything more, his otosan rushes in to stop your fight when his attention is arrested by the two of you fighting in the middle of the ground.

his otosan bows down to you, apologising on his behalf, while the kid only glares at you throughout the course of his otosan’s words. they walk away from you, and you’re glad you get to use the swing at least once before you need to head home. you tell your otosan about your encounter with the boy, and he asks you to apologise whenever you come across him the next time. you come across the same kid in the sandbox the very next week. instead of starting a fight, you apologise for your actions from the previous week as per your otosan’s request.

before you know it, wakatoshi ushijima becomes your best friend, and you become attached by the hip. the memory of your first interaction becomes something you laugh over from time to time, a legendary tale you preach to everyone who asks you how you happened to meet wakatoshi in the first place.

wakatoshi chuckles as he looks back on the silly memory of the first time his paths crossed your own. it’s funny, he thinks, because at seven, you don’t know what the people you meet will mean to you a few years down the line. so when he was a kid himself, he would try to hold onto most people he met, but everyone walked away because he was incompetent when it came to making them stay. you, however, stuck to him for a long long time. for him, it was very kind of you to have a friendship with him without expecting much in return. although he tried to give back as much as he took from you, he knows he failed on multiple occasions.

his fingers run along the photograph sitting in his hold, snapped about nineteen years ago. it’s beguiling to him how the two of you managed to stay friends this long despite the circumstances ending up knotty sometimes. the mutual understanding, however, made it easier to get through the tough times. lucky is the only word he can use to describe himself. although he has always put in his best efforts, hitting the jackpot when it comes to his career seems mere luck to him at times. having you in his life seems luck to him too, and more than once he has thought that he doesn’t deserve to have you. he really lucked out meeting you on a warm summer evening at his favourite park in the city.

he scatters the various photographs, articles and toys on his bed sheet, each one having their own story to tell. from bisco the cat, to the photograph that was taken on a random day in middle school, to the sweater left in the box— each one has a brief telltale associated with it, and if he were to recall all of those, he would have to spend a lifetime doing so. but somehow, it won’t take him so long either, because he remembers each story down to the littlest of its details and that to him, is truly special, and so are you.

you stand next to wakatoshi, receiving the warmth his body radiates. the two of you wait for the arrival of your chaotic best friend in front of his favourite restaurant in miyagi. christmas eve every year only means having a dinner with wakatoshi and satori. your good old trio meets up every year when satori flies back from france, handing over the ownership of his chocolate shop to his trusted employees, only to spend some time with his best friends.

you don’t know if either of them looks forward to spend the night with you, but your doubts are swept off when you sit through the night, chatting with satori, and wakatoshi, despite his strife to do it, still contributes a few words here and there. they spend the night with you, keeping you company on your favourite holiday, and while you and satori forget about it under the influence of some alcohol, wakatoshi makes sure you click a picture before the night ends. the picture ends up on your lock screen, only to be renewed the following year.

wakatoshi continues reading the book he received from you on his birthday this year. pride and prejudice. it wasn’t much of a gift really, but you learned that your best friend picked up a habit of reading books from time to time from his team captain, and when you browsed through his list, you ended up finding the name of the book he wanted to try out first. coming to think of it, while you were scavenging through the shelves looking for the book, you couldn’t shake off the similarities you saw between himself and darcy.

darcy is socially awkward, terrible at being lovey dovey, quite the arrogant man. pretty much everything wakatoshi is, other than arrogant of course. your wakatoshi is sweet. he’s kind and compassionate. almost easy to fall in love with once you tear off the exterior to look at the real person beneath it. you know this because you were in love too. at sixteen, wakatoshi was everything you wanted. but your feelings faded off once you realised there’s little to no chance he will ever look at you the same way.

your gaze sides to fix itself on wakatoshi. the wrinkles on his forehead deepening with every passing second are an obvious indicative that he’s in too deep, reading the book with utmost dedication, unfazed by the vibrant atmosphere encompassing your bodies. people are out with their families, the streets are full of individuals dressed in white and red, children walk around with candies in their hands, and matching decorations hang by the trees lining the roadside. while all of it garners your attention, it somehow manages to dodge that of wakatoshi.

you think of disrupting wakatoshi’s obedience, but choose not to when you notice that satori is late and your plan of action should be to contact him instead of disturbing wakatoshi’s leisurely reading. you open your sling bag to take out the cellphone to check in with satori who was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago. you text him and he tells you he’ll be there in twenty, which only prompts a frown to etch into your face.

white icicles begin trudging down, one falling on your head, and your attention drifts to the sky to take notice of the snowfall. you suppose this is what the beauty of the season is in tokyo. although you like nothing about snow sitting on top of your head, it still looks beautiful when matched with the enthusiasm of christmas.

wakatoshi takes off his scarf and quickly wraps it around your neck. it takes you by surprise and you turn around to face him, cheeks blotted red, something inside you urging you to ask him something you’ve held in for so long. you know wakatoshi thinks of love as something only fools indulge him. for him, if there’s anything in this world that deserves time and efforts, it’s volleyball. people communicate with their own species to form connections, he does so with volleyball to experience a new kind of hormonal rush that takes him by surprise each time around. you cannot be so sure because you’ve never heard it coming out of his mouth, but you know what he thinks. more or less. his actions speak enough.

but over the years that you’ve known him, you’ve wondered what his view on love is really like. if it’s exactly what you think it is, or if there’s something more he feels about it. something he hides even from you. so you begin your questionnaire, entering the territory of his thoughts with a soft approach, “toshi, isn’t it beautiful out tonight?” it’s a conversation starter, not what you intend to ask. in fact, miles away from your intended query.

“hmm.” he hums in agreement, eyes still scrutinising the book in hand. a snowflake finds it’s path to land on his cheek, making him flinch when he senses the cold mulling on his skin. you stretch out your hand to wipe the cold liquid off his cheek, luring his attention off pride and prejudice, and he finally comes to face you.

“finally, after all this time, my toshi finally looks at me, not at elizabeth.” you taunt him, chuckling as you take the book off his hands to tap it against his skull, teasing him about his newfound passion. “i’m certainly prettier, aren’t i?” you wiggle your brows, leaving him a little uneasy with your question that is only meant to poke fun at him, but he takes it seriously, confessing, “well, in my opinion, if we compare the two of you,—“ he’s stopped in his tracks by you.

“i only asked for fun, toshi. you don’t actually have to analyse our characters for real.” you sigh, dabbing his forehead, laughing at his cluelessness and he smiles sheepishly at you, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck in visible embarrassment.

“so toshi, i was wondering—“ you take in a deep breath, having found an opening to finally cast your intended question. his attention is on you now and the book is in your hand, making it less likely for him to get distracted by its presence. you continue, staggering through your words, only confusing him along the way, but he doesn’t think much of it, “can i ask you something?” instead of the question, you end up asking for his permission instead.

“sure, why not.” he shrugs, throwing an arm around you to pull you closer as he looks down to match your gaze, “you know you can ask me anything, right?” his gesture leaves you by surprise but you cozy up to him, thinking there’s no harm while it’s so cold outside.

“yea, i know.” you nod, mustering the courage to spill out your question, breathing out one last time before you finally do it, “what do you think about love, toshi?” you don’t know where your nervousness comes from. it’s just a simple question, yet you stumble around your words as you ask it. a part of you is terrified about his reply, knowing it will only disregard the feeling. but there isn’t any reason for it to disappoint you. if wakatoshi thinks love is stupid, it shouldn’t bother you. so you wonder why anxiety jumps around your stomach instead.

“huh?” wakatoshi hears your question as you stutter through it. while you’re nervous asking it, the question shakes the ground beneath his feet as well. the thing is, coming from you, the question doesn’t even sound awkward to begin with, and honestly he knows he can answer it if he needs to, but when he’s never spent any time thinking about what love means to him, he doesn’t know how to answer it.

luckily for him, before he has to reply to you, satori’s unexpected arrival relieves his tension, and unluckily for you, his arrival only means you have to suppress your curiosity for the time being, burying it deep within yourself until another opening shows up for you to ask wakatoshi about it. you know it will be a while before you get to open up the conversation with your best friend again, but you’re willing to hold your horses until then.

“let’s go in, you guys.” you suggest, taking satori and wakatoshi by their hands to enter the restaurant. wakatoshi nods and quickly follows your lead, having already forgotten about your conversation from earlier. satori releases his hand from your hold to invade the space between wakatoshi and you, coercing you to give up on wakatoshi’s hand as tendo makes space for himself between the two of you. he throws his arms around the two you, dragging you to your reserved seats in a playful manner.

the cold wind brushes past his cheeks, making him shiver. wakatoshi tugs his overcoat closer to his body to retain some warmth. he waits for you at the exit of the international airport, peeking at his embellished wristwatch every now and then to look up the time. your flight was supposed to make a landing around half past eight. it’s been an hour and a half since and you should be out by now, but he detects no sign of you around, guessing you got caught up with something.

he doesn’t want to be here receiving you after you’ve been away for more than a month. the truth is, he would much rather be at his place right now, catching on some sleep, where he doesn’t have to face you. he doesn’t know what to say to you when he sees you walk out with a ring on your finger. although he had slightly more than a week to think about it, he chose to not give it much thought, because one, he had volleyball practice, and two, he couldn’t stop thinking about his feelings for you.

wakatoshi doesn’t know what he’ll choose to say to you after he sees you for the first time in months. perhaps a hello would be most appropriate, followed by a ‘how have you been’, but the relationship between the two of you isn’t so formal for him to begin a conversation like that. the thing is, he wouldn’t have pitched in to receive you at the airport if it wasn’t for your call regarding haruko’s decision to extend their stay in the states. when you called him up two days ago to inform about your situation, he impulsively offered you a ride home and backing out of it now, moments before you walk out of the airport won’t suit his morals.

you walk out, pushing your trolley onward, drifting your vision back and forth between the crowd waiting for their loved ones, and you finally spot wakatoshi standing a little farther from the mess. he’s already looking your way, a soft smile bracing his face as he waits for you to return to him. you smile right back at him, a poor imitation of the emotion, but it’s still convincing. you put your hand up in the air to wave a hello at him as you pave your way to close the distance between the two of you.

you look at wakatoshi for the first time in two months. not that you haven’t been seeing his face on video calls, but in person, it’s a different thing altogether. you notice nothing about him has changed. he’s the same old wakatoshi you know, but you also know something is different this time around. looking at him doesn’t feel the way it usually does. usually, wakatoshi is your best friend. today, looking at him blurs the labels. when he looks at you for the first time in months, the first thing that demands his attention is the ring finger of your left hand. his eyes notice the lack of a ring. heart sighs in something alike relief. vocal cords strum in curiosity to question the absence of it.

there isn’t a ring around your finger. not even a makeshift band to confirm your engagement, and wakatoshi ponders if haruko chose not to pop the question for whatever reason there was. curiosity floods his veins, vouching for a chance to spill beyond the vessels, but he holds back, deciding not to ask you regarding it. when the time is right, you’ll open and he’ll come to know.

“hey there, stranger.” you purse your lips, sighing as you inch a little closer to him, seeing him in person for the first time in two months. you put your arms around his back to pull him into a hug, and he steps forward too, the smile curving on his lips widens as he takes a brief look you, noticing the change, before falling into your embrace.

your hair is slightly longer now, a little unruly, and he knows you’ll get it in shape within the next few days. you’ve grown thinner, which confirms that you didn’t like the food there as much as you like the food his okaasan prepares for you. you look more tired than you usually do after coming home from work, which he thinks is obvious since you’ve been touring for days, and that requires a lot more movement than your stationary office job does.

“hey there.” he whispers into your ear. you feel his arms slithering around your waist. wakatoshi rubs his temple against your shoulder, holding you close to himself. he certainly missed you, there isn’t a doubt about that, and you feel at peace, wrapped in his arms, so close to him. the scent of a foreign perfume lingers around you, something he concludes you picked up from the stores in the states.

“let’s go home now.” you say to him, pulling yourself away from his hold as you walk behind the trolley holding your luggage, lowering its handle with a force to get it to move, preparing to make your way towards his car. wakatoshi nods, knocking some visible creases off his coat as he prepares himself to help you to his car.

the truth is, wakatoshi expected a more vibrant conversation. he expected you to chirp about everything you did and didn’t do over the last two months. he expected you to look a little more excited to see him after so long, but all he can see is someone who doesn’t want to be around him for longer that they already have, someone who just wants to withdraw into their own company, and he wonders what changed in the time you weren’t here next to him, or what went wrong in the states.

he silently nudges your away from the trolley, taking it under his own control and you let him, removing your purse from the upper compartment to hold it in your own possession. he begins walking towards his car and you follow, lightly clutching onto his overcoat, taking watchful steps to follow his trail, coated in the certain warmth he always gives off.

he opens the door to his car, letting you inside to take your spot in the passenger seat. he notices you enter his car quietly, minding each step that you take, shunning the noise your usual movements would make under any other circumstances. wakatoshi now knows for sure that something went wrong while you were in the states. you aren’t anywhere close to how he knows your personality, and it’s growing more obvious every passing minute. he should’ve guessed it earlier when you failed to write to him last week, or when you failed to contact him for almost a week and a half.

he was ignorant, mostly thinking about his feelings for you, letting himself feel jealous that you were busy spending quality time with haruko since it’s your love language. now, he doesn’t know much about love languages or the concept behind their origins or extensions, but he knows exactly what yours is because you told him once, randomly dropping it between some conversation, and he tends to remember everything about you verbatim.

it’s quite hilarious to him, mostly just stupid that he never thought of his exceeding admiration and attention towards you as anything more than a normal friendship. sure, for wakatoshi, love was something only fools with a lot of time on their hands indulged in, but even then, even with that belief, he wonders if he was so stupid that he couldn’t see the signs that lingered right around him. but that doesn’t matter now. what matters is that you aren’t okay.

“so, you got engaged, huh?” wakatoshi asks you, much in hesitance to pop the question in the first place, unaware of the words that flee the space between his lips. this isn’t what he intended to ask you, but the curiosity swirling through his blood caught up before he could conjure the words to enquire about your well being. you hear him loud and clear but you don’t really know how to explain it to him, so you ignore his doubt.

you turn around in your seat, closing your eyes, pretending to be in deep slumber although it’s only been two minutes since you entered the car, denying to answer his question. you’re aware you were the one who gave him a heads up about the engagement in the first place, so it’s quite obvious he’s curious about it now that you’re back in town, except, haruko didn’t pop the question at all, and what happened between the two of you instead was a break up. so while you appreciate wakatoshi’s obvious excitement on the matter, you also don’t know how to tell him the truth.

no, you aren’t scared of the outcome. if anything, if there’s one person who won’t judge you, it’s him, and knowing the gentle giant that he is, he’ll only show his support to you, helping you through the hard time. but things aren’t quite as simple as they seem when your supposed fiancé broke up with you, winding their words in certain allegations regarding the relationship between wakatoshi and you during your final conversation. so you have no clue whatsoever about how the upcoming conversation between your best friend and yourself is supposed to begin or end.

“i guess you’re already asleep, yn.” he sighs, looking at your curled up figure from the corner of his eye. he turns the key in the ignition as his second hand approaches close to your own. he takes a hold of your hand, rubbing his fingers against it, swishing circles against your knuckles as you feel the engine revving. before he starts steps on the accelerator, he ruffles your hair, saying, “take some rest now that you’re back in tokyo.”

heat creeps up to pool at your cheeks and all these years, the touch that felt so familiar and friendly, suddenly feels foreign and suffocating. you almost choke on your anxiety as his rough hands stroke yours smothered in baby lotion. you hold no grudge against him by any means, but wakatoshi’s hand so close to yours feels like a crime in this moment. not because haruko was under the impression that you’ve always had a thing for your best friend, but because maybe they were right. maybe you’ve always had a thing for him, but you wonder if he’s been just as invested too.

“sleep well.” from the corner of your eye, you can see the small smile that approaches his lips as he pats your head before taking off his hand to hold the steering wheel to start driving.

“mhm.” you hum, shifting in your seat, completely closing your eyelids this time around, when wakatoshi stops the car in its tracks, warranting a few honks from the other cars waiting in line to exit the airport, to grab his jacket from the backseat to put it on you.

he places it over your chest. it smells of expensive perfume and the protein powder he takes twice a day, but more than all that, it smells an awful lot like home. it smells so much like his apartment and as someone who spends most of their time lingering around his space, his jacket certainly reminds you of your safe place. when he puts it on your sleeping figure, there’s an apetite to push it aside but your gut lets it’s dissipate on its own. this isn’t the first time he’s offering you his jacket, but after haruko’s words hit you like a storm the week before, his jacket no longer feels as welcoming as it used to.

but coming to think of it, wakatoshi and everything about him, you think, has always been someplace you never wanted to leave once you took a spot in. you wonder why you never realised it before haruko spoke to you about it. you wonder what made you think everything you did with him was only restricted to go as far as a platonic sentiment. perhaps, haruko was right in the end. you’ve always had a thing or two for ushijima wakatoshi and haruko’s words were just a push for you to discover those feelings.

you were in love at sixteen, but you thought the moment you decided to fall out of love with wakatoshi, you really did. you branched out, started dating people, ended up meeting haruko at twenty five, fell in love with them (or so you thought), wanted to spend a lifetime with them, but perhaps the love you had for wakatoshi was never unseen to those around you. if there was anyone who was blind to it’s patent presence, it has always been wakatoshi and you.

you walk into your bedroom. wakatoshi follows in your steps, treading behind with a part of your luggage occupying his hands. the air around the two of you has been filled with an eerie awkwardness since you returned, and the silence you’ve caulked in between isn’t helping either, but he still does what he has to, and you let him, while no words are exchanged and eye contact is restricted to brief moments.

he places your luggage in a corner and approaches the bedroom door, thinking the only right thing to do next would be to leave you in your own space. you don’t really look like you want to talk to him at all. his presence only seems to stem your bother more and more everytime his eyes arrest your own but you turn away. that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still curious about the whole thing. heck, he wants to know what’s keeping you on the edge ever since you returned and he wants to help you get through it, but he’s also a respectful fellow, so he decides to offer you some time on your own to think things through.

when the time is right, he knows, you’ll tell him everything like you always do. assured of the fact, he begins walking out of your bedroom, only leaving behind half a smile and a vague goodbye in the space between the two of you, when he feels some weight lightly dragging his tee downwards. wakatoshi turns his neck around to see you tugging onto his shirt with your eyes scrutinising your feet, circumventing his soft gaze searching for your own.

when you notice he’s looking in your direction, you let his tee slip off from the hold of your fingers. you step back, finally looking up to capture his gaze, tears starting to border your eyelids. “stay with me.” you whisper, and at any other time of day he wouldn’t have been able to hear your low voice, but in the dead silence you’ve whipped up between the two of you, he hears it loud and clear. in response, he takes two steps closer to you, entering inside your room from its periphery, where you stopped him earlier.

you have no idea about the stimulus that irks your tear glands to secret their fluid, and frankly speaking, as he looks at your eyes in the dim lighting, neither does he, curiosity still nibbling at his edges.

all you know is that you don’t want to be alone with your thoughts tonight. all he knows is that he doesn’t want to leave you by yourself tonight, while you’re insisting him to stay by your side. the very next moment, he pulls you into a hug, nuzzling against your neck. you stand there with a loss of response, letting him take control while you only let your arms brace his back. the dim light so long didn’t allow him to see your tears properly, still doubting if you were actually crying, but your whimpering audio alerts him, confirming suspicion, and he embraces your figure even tighter. “it’s okay, yn, i’m here.” he reassures you, pulling out to find the view of your eyes to wipe the teardrops streaming down.

he’s here in front of you, and more than a blessing, his presence around you tonight feels like a curse. it’s not that you don’t want him yo around you, but the wound from your break up is still fresh and when wakatoshi is the very reason for it, his presence around you feels a little uncomfortable. but despite that, you don’t want him to leave either. you wonder what haruko would think if you confessed to wakatoshi and got together right away. so you smother that thought for the night, only walking in closer to him to seek a shelter.

wakatoshi spends the night in your bed, occupying the right side of the bed while you take on the left. there isn’t much contact through the night. you both lie on the cushion, backs touching each other, neither of you finding the atmosphere comfortable enough to fall asleep. you don’t know when it occurs, but sometime through the middle of night, your eyes close and you drift off.

wakatoshi stays next to you until the sun rises to the top of the sky and the birds begin chirping. he leaves your side, getting off the bed at sixteen minutes past five to drive back home to start another day. he makes you some breakfast. eggs, toast and a strawberry smoothie. he leaves you a note as well, asking you to contact him once you start your day. there’s a lot he wants to talk to you about, and he writes at the end of the note, “i can’t wait to talk you again.”

you wake up, thanks to a car honking loudly on the street across your window, at twenty four minutes past ten. you notice wakatoshi’s absence, but once you look for the time, it makes sense that he left long before you woke up. you walk into your kitchen once you brush your teeth and wash your tired face. you find his note on the island, drawing out a smile from your end, and you take your breakfast out of the refrigerator to heat it up.

despite his kindest request to you, wakatoshi doesn’t hear from you for eight days. somewhere through the span of the week kageyama notices him slacking off his best game. although it’s nothing apparent, an observant player like him can easily point out the little changes he notices in his wing spikers. so on the eighth night since wakatoshi last saw you, kageyama sends you a text.

you walk into the gymnasium, hands occupied with a basket full of food for wakatoshi’s teammates. you take a spot next to the door, waiting for someone to take notice of your arrival, preferably wakatoshi himself, but that’s highly unlikely. it’s not that you haven’t met his teammates before for it to be fiddly for you, but he’s the person you know the best, so interacting with him first makes it easier for you to mingle with the rest.

the first one to notice your presence near the door is coach suzaku, and somehow, he’s always the first one to do so. you suppose the players are just too engrossed in practice for them to ever take notice of your quiet steps entering the gymnasium, plus your presence isn’t that loud either, so it’s highly unlikely one of the players will look your way before the coach does. suzaku offers you a soft smile, gesturing with his hands for you to come closer. you take light steps to close the distance between him and you, to stand right next to him, wary that you don’t interrupt the practice before the coach calls for a break.

“boys, time for a break.” he announces, blowing his whistle, snatching the attention of everyone on court. his players look his way, skeptical of how break time arrived fifteen minutes earlier than when it usually does on a friday afternoon. next to him, they spot you, smiling at them with food in your hand, and their faces shunned with doubt quickly turn into all smiles as the prepare to rush towards you.

wakatoshi is the last one to halt his practice and look in your direction, and seeing you at the gymnasium after eight long days of having no conversation with you slightly irritates him. first, you choose to cut all contact, and despite him respecting your choice to do so, you don’t attempt reconnecting at all. then, you show up at practice with food for his teammates instead of meeting him in private. he knows you’re here to talk to him, not his teammates, so he wonders why you didn’t bother to call him over at your place instead of putting in the effort to cook for his teammates. needless to say, wakatoshi is hurt at your actions, but he still drops the ball to the floor and walks your way along with his teammates.

“yn, you’re back!” hoshiumi yells, excited to see you for the first time in two months. he dashes your way, nudging suzaku to empty your hands, and pulls you into a tight hug, confessing, “i missed you so much.” he smiles, slightly towering you, and you return it as well before you step back from his hold.

“ushijima san wouldn’t tell us if you were back. he kept dodging the question.” he complains, frowning at his senior. the thing is, wakatoshi didn’t tell anyone that you returned after you cut contact, and although he did it to respect your privacy, it seems his teammates are taking it the wrong way now that they know you’re back in town.

you notice the concern appearing on your best friend’s face, and before he can step in to defend himself, you do it for him, clarifying, “i asked him not to.”

“i was tired, you know, and toshi only did it because i asked him to.” you tell them all, and it appears that they understand your reasons. wakatoshi smiles at you, his eyes speaking of gratitude and you want to smile back at him, but something inside of you doesn’t let you do so, so you only look at him with a bleak expression on your face. at which, the smile on his face dissipates into the thin air between the two of you that reeks of tension now.

the awkward moment between the two of you is interjected by romero, who walks up to take your hand in his as he thanks you for the food, “oh my, yn.” he sighs, expression changing into something utterly melodramatic, “i missed your cooking so much.” everyone around him laughs at his exaggeration on the matter, but really, he did miss your cooking. that’s not a lie.

romero and his family in particular are really fond of your cooking, so watching him enact just how desperate he was to have something made by you again, allows you to burst into a musical giggle, jailing all of wakatoshi’s attention. all week long, he spent his days thinking of you, thinking of what he did wrong, thinking of what could be bothering you, and now that you’re here in front of him, he cannot talk to you because his teammates keep asking for your attention one after the other. that lights up a distressed expression on his face. suzaku notices and when he follows wakatoshi’s gaze, it only lands on you surrounded by his teammates, and it’s as if he’s asking to be noticed. suzaku sighs, summoning everyone to head out for lunch.

“alright, boys, let’s quickly have some food.” suzaku insists, peeking his watch to realise they need to get back to practice with a game right around the corner. “don’t eat too much.” he warns, walking towards the exit to go to the canteen. “i’m warning you.” suzaku walks out and everyone on the team except for wakatoshi follows him. you trail behind as well, but you’re stopped in your tracks by wakatoshi, who takes you by the hand.

you turn around to look at him with an exasperated expression splashed across his face and you sigh, knowing that you’re about to face the music. what you’ve spent the last eight days avoiding is what stands before you and there’s no running off this time around. “what is it, toshi?” you question, withdrawing your hand from his hold, stepping away from him to take a seat on the bleachers. you voice fades away, urging him to follow your vocals.

wakatoshi follows you to your seat before he practically yells at you, “what do mean by that, yn?” towards the end, he lowers his volume when he notices his loud voice left you startled and a little scared. from your seat, you stare at him in surprise, having known him as this silent, closed off boy. so watching his outburst, even though it’s just momentary, tends to strike fear inside of you.

“you can’t just ask that after ignoring me for eight days straight, yn.” he reasons with you, and a part of you agrees that you’re the one to blame. but you also think you deserved to have some time to yourself in order to think things through. wakatoshi had no idea and still has none about what happened between haruko and you in the states. ignoring him won’t make it go away, plus you know you have to face your feelings for him some day or the other, and it’s only hurting him while you choose to ignore their existence.

“i—“ you look for a beginning to put your explanation into words, but only meet a dead end when the words you’re looking for clog at your pharynx instead of ever coming out. wakatoshi notices you’re struggling, so he makes it easier for you, taking a seat next to you.

his hand finds yours, and he asks you, rubbing your hand to soothe your anxiety, “where have you been?” instead of getting right to the point, he wants to ease it for you, but despite his efforts, your courage only withers away, and you withdraw your hand. he notices the uneasiness between the two of you that he never thought could ever take shape.

“meet me for dinner, toshi.” you tell him, pursing your lips, looking at him with the most vague smile sinking into your lips. you want to tell him everything right in this moment. right now. but you’re holding back. you don’t know if a gymnasium is some place to confess your feelings. at the same time, you don’t find it in yourself to come clean to him at forty two minutes past twelve on a friday afternoon in late august, so you decide to call him over and tell him what you really feel in private without anyone else around.

the plan wasn’t to extend the confession, but you definitely didn’t think this through before showing up to his practice. you didn’t think you would end up calling him for dinner tonight instead of getting things done in the afternoon itself, but well, at least you took a step ahead instead of staying stagnant at the same point where you’ve been lurking for the past few days.

“okay, alright.” he nods at your request, relieved that if not right now, he’ll at least find out the truth later on. he understands that you might not feel like talking about certain things at his practice, so he agrees to meet you later on, happy that he will get an explanation for your actions recently. he hasn’t tried contacting haruko, solely to respect your boundaries, but he’s guilty enough to admit that his fingers have scrolled past their contact information more than ten times over the last eight days.

“so, why did you show up to practice today?” he enquires, although there’s nothing unusual about it, but seeing you appear at his practice after eight days of no contact was more or less a surprise to him. he didn’t expect break time to be fifteen minutes earlier, more so, he didn’t expect you to be here. before this, whenever you’ve come over for whatever reason, he has always known about it beforehand, but today, your arrival was strange even for him.

“kageyama told me you’ve been and i quote, slacking off a lot recently, so i should come and cheer you up at practice.” you shrug, telling him a part of the reason why you showed up, confessing half the truth. it’s not like it wasn’t to offer him an explanation, but now that you’ve chickened out, might as well make your appearance an ode to his teammate’s kind request to you.

he feels embarrassed about it. he knows kageyama is a competent sportsman, but for him to take notice of the smallest changes in wakatoshi’s gameplay says a lot about him. his cheeks turn red and wakatoshi turns his head to the side, embarrassed about the same. you notice this and you’re quick to put your hand over his to offer some reassurance.

“you don’t have to be embarrassed, toshi.” you reassure him, patting his knuckles before withdrawing your hand and standing to your feet. “i’m your best friend, i’ve seen you at your worse.” you tell him in order to pacify his concern, walking away from him towards the exit.

“see me tonight.” you remind him of your plans, waving his way before you walk out of the gymnasium. wakatoshi leaves his seat, making his way to the canteen to catch up with his teammates, wondering what the upcoming conversation tonight holds for him.

wakatoshi walks into your apartment, opening the door using the spare keys you gave him just in case you misplace your own. the lights are turned off and the darkness that envelopes him when he walks into your living room is indication enough that you’re probably passed out in your bed. in your defence, it’s half past ten already and you’re one to sleep early. it’s not like he expected you to be at his service, but there’s no way he’s getting any explanation tonight.

still, he moves closer to the switchboard to turn the lights on, placing the champagne bottle busying his hands onto your coffee table. he surmises you cooked something tonight before you headed to bed, so he walks into your kitchen to grab some food for himself, only to find more darkness and clean countertops with no leftover food, let alone some freshly cooked food.

wakatoshi sighs at the sight in front of him. his first thought is to cook some food for himself before he heads in to sleep next to you, but as soon as he stretches his shoulder to take hold of some spices from an cabinet packed over his head, the exhaustion from practice shines through when a muscle twitches, and he discards the idea. wakatoshi generally sticks to having home cooked food to maintain a diet, but tonight he decides the only viable option left is to order take out, so he rings up the closest noodle place to order a serving of miso ramen and yakisoba.

he leaves the kitchen with a flute glass in his hand to take a seat on your coach. he turns on the television to find one of the replays of his old match playing on the national television. he takes interest in looking back on one of his games as an amateur as he pours himself a glass of champagne. he sips on the expensive drink, sinking back into the couch, criticizing his own skills on the court from when he was twenty one. a novice at professional volleyball.

the sound of something playing on your television so late into the night forces you to wake up. you walk into the living room to find wakatoshi resting on your couch, quaffing champagne while he watches an old game. you hate to admit, but you forgot you called him over. you recall coming home from his practice and heading straight to bed, promising yourself that you’ll wake up in the evening to cook food for the two of you. you sigh at your own stupidity, walking closer to him to take a seat right next to him.

he doesn’t realise you’ve woken up until he feels some weight shift in the space next to him. you lean onto his shoulder and wakatoshi cranes his neck to the side to see you resting your head on him. “hey there.” he whispers, breathing out as he squirms to place the flute glass on the table without disturbing your comfort. you help him by getting off his shoulder to grab the glass yourself to put it away.

“i’m sorry.” you say to him, shrugging, looking at him looking at you dazed like the light drinker that he is. “i forgot you were coming over.” you purse your lips, admitting you totally forgot about your plans for tonight, and ironically you were the one warning him not to forget about it before you left his company.

“it’s okay.” he shrugs at you, unfazed by your forgetfulness, pulling you back closer to him. you place your head on his shoulder again, sighing as the two of you stare at the screen in front of you for seven minutes until wakatoshi tells you, “i ordered some take out for us.”

“i figured you didn’t have food either.” he says, grabbing the remote to turn the television off. in the silence that disperses around the two of you, heavy thoughts clog your mind. wakatoshi. haruko. your feelings. everything that has had you on edge for the past week and a half starts weighing down on you and you squirm next to him, sighing as the weight of all those thoughts drags your sanity down.

this is something you always do. there’s nothing strange about wakatoshi and you ordering takeout and having dinner late into the night, but following haruko’s words to you, everything about this insignificant gesture makes you feel burdened. you know you’re going to have to come clean to him tonight, but just like this afternoon, the words you’re looking for clog at the base of your throat, and what comes out instead is, “why?” you ask, taking your head off his shoulder, shifting in your position to meet his gaze instead.

“what do you mean why?” he asks, perplexed, taken aback by your question. he notices the water pooling at your eyes, and he moves forward to wipe it off for you but you do so yourself even before he can, thinking you’re doing a great job hiding your confused emotions.

“why did you order take out?” you question again, this time elaborating on it and he looks at you with the most addled expression he can possibly put on.

“but we always do so when neither of us wants to cook.” he reminds you, attesting to the credibility of his gesture, prompting you that there’s nothing new to this. if anything, it’s a tradition despite his strict diet and you’ve done it so many times before, it no longer feels like a cheat to him.

“but it’s different now, wakatoshi.” you confess, eyes moving away from his to stare at your fingers fiddling with each other. by the end of your said sentence, your voice falters off, and his name comes out only as a soft whisper, brushing past his curiosity.

wakatoshi doesn’t understand what you’re trying to prove. he’s still just as perplexed as he was two minutes ago. your words are legible but they make no sense to him. he doesn’t know what about ordering take out tonight is so different than how it has always been. he agrees that facing you has been difficult for him since you came back, but doesn’t mean things between the two of you have altered drastically. you’re still his best friend and this is still very normal, or so he thinks.

“what are you talking about, yn?” he questions the claim you’re trying to make, leaning forward into the space in front of him, hands supported by his thighs as he turns his back to the side to look at you, while you’re still staring at your hands, avoiding his expectant gaze.

“we’re not friends, toshi.” you tell him, words faltering off radar as they come out, confusing him furthermore, but he listens in a silence that’s haunted by his own fumbling feelings instead of interjecting you. “we haven’t been for the longest time, i think.” you state and stop speaking, and after two minutes of awkward silence that’s only interrupted by the chirping of the cuckoo clock at eleven, he asks you, still searching for your gaze, “what do you mean?” at this point, wakatoshi begins to put pieces of the puzzle together but he’s humbled by his lack of experience, so he doesn’t jump to conclusions. instead, he gives you a heads up, vouching for you to resume.

“haruko told me that i never really loved them.” you begin, sighing as you force the clogged words to come out as they can, staggering through your sentences, looking for wakatoshi’s understanding, “they told me it’s always been you.” wakatoshi gulps at your words, things becoming clearer by the second. he provides reassurance when he hums, allowing you to proceed without being smothered by your nervousness.

“and the truth is, toshi, i like you, and i liked you even when we were sixteen.” you confess, voice breaking apart between words, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you continue, and wakatoshi isn’t surprised in the least, at least he doesn’t show it, but a part of him sighs in happiness when he hears you say it. you continue, “but then when it became clear that you wanted nothing to do with anything other than volleyball, i decided to date other people to take my mind off you.”

you pause, finally meeting his gaze as you wait for him to say something, but instead, he takes your trembling hands to envelope them in the warmth, blinking at you to reassure you to continue with what you’re trying to tell him. you breathe out, offering him a smile that speaks of gratitude for his understanding on the matter. you sigh, nodding to yourself before you resume speaking, “i met haruko after several failed attempts at dating and they made me happy. i finally thought i no longer needed to be stuck on you.”

“but i think haruko saw through me quite well. just because i was in love with them, or so i thought, didn’t mean i didn’t look at you the same way i did at sixteen.” you declare, pitch falling into the unknown as you approach the end, still looking into his eyes, and he does nothing about it. he only smiles at you, nodding in reassurance, and you think this is going easier than you thought it would.

“and i think what they said is right. i really really like you, toshi.” you let the words fall out, painting your cheeks crimson red and he feels the heat muddle at his own cheeks too. for a moment, the two of you look away in obvious embarrassment, but you swallow your fear, saying, “when i realised, i wanted to run away from the truth, which is why i ignored you.” you face him again.

“but the thing is, i don’t think i can do that to you or to myself.” you don’t have anything more to say, so you release your hands from his hold to lean back into the cushion of the sofa, feeling like the weight has been lifted off your shoulders, sighing in some kind of victory, having finally overcome your fear. but you think you had nothing to worry about in the first place because wakatoshi seemed to be unbothered by all of it, but he’s yet to make a statement about it, which still concerns you.

“then what about the ring?” of all the things he should say in response to it, wakatoshi decides to ask about the ring you mentioned in your email and you chuckle, thinking you’ve lost the fight, thinking there’s no part of him that likes you back, no part of him that’s happy about this. you think he’s asking about the ring because he wanted you to marry haruko to get rid of you. talk about your eleven pm brain. so you sigh, crouching forward to narrate yet another story, “the ring was a fake.”

“it was for their niece who wanted a ring similar to her mom’s engagement ring.” you tell him, shrugging, and he giggles at the story, only exciting a frown from your end. “what’s there to laugh about?” you ask him, twitching your lips into a grimace.

“nothing, it’s just that—“ before he can finish, he’s interrupted by the door bell. you jump out of your seat, assuming it’s the delivery guy bringing the take out wakatoshi ordered earlier.

“i’ll pay for it.” you state, grabbing your wallet on your way to the door, and wakatoshi nods, knowing convincing you otherwise will be a futile effort.

you return to your seat with the paper bag in your hand. wakatoshi takes it off your possession, putting it on the table next to the champagne bottle. for a good ninety seconds, neither of you speak or attempt to open the take out that’s beginning to get cold. wakatoshi looks at you from the corner of his eye from time to time, and you’re staring at the take out in front of you, waiting for it to be opened, but you’re holding yourself back. there isn’t tension hanging by the air between the two of you, instead, it feels even more calmer than it usually does. but you’re waiting for him to address the elephant in the room. before you eat, you want to know his thoughts regarding the situation. you don’t have to say it for him to realise. wakatoshi swallows his nervousness, finding your gaze. you blink at him, reassuring him just like he did for you, prompting him to take the stage.

“tendo told me i liked you when we were nineteen.” he tells you and you look at him with a surprised look on your face, startled at his words. he resumes when he finds your gaze still looking down on him with the same softness from before, “but i told him that wasn’t possible. i kept denying for the longest time, and every time tendo would tell me, i would brush it off.”

“but recently, i realised i’ve liked you all along. i’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.” he ends his note with an apology and you nod at him, telling him silently that you forgive him although he has nothing to apologize about.

for wakatoshi, world beyond volleyball was nothing but a blur. love was something only people with a lot of time on their hands indulged in. for him, the volleyball court was where he needed to outperform himself. human emotions could’ve waited. for wakatoshi, your presence was the luckiest thing to have ever happened to him, but at the same time, coming to terms with tendo’s words was something he never discovered enough courage for, so he let those words drift astray from himself.

he apologised because he knows he hurt you somewhere along the way. somewhere between trying to make time for you and neglecting you without notice, there’s enough hurt wakatoshi left for you to scrimmage through, and although you will never hold him accountable for it, he thinks it’s only right for him to step up to apologise now. better late than never.

but having known him since you were six, having seen him dedicate the entirety of his existence to volleyball, you never expected him to realise his mistakes in the first place, let alone apologise to you. coming to think of it, you never thought of those as wrongdoings to begin with, but still, when you hear an apology dripping off his lips, you’re taken aback just as much as you were when you heard him say he likes you back. but you decide not to extend the conversation further, knowing there’s nowhere to go beyond your respective confessions.

“so,” you begin, eyeing him expectantly, “what now?”

“we eat the take out.” he shrugs at you, reaching out for the paper bag to open it to empty its contents. you rush to the kitchen to grab two plates and some cutlery while he puts the two containers next to his flute glass, pouring some champagne into it. you return, offering him the steel ware to serve the dinner.

“i meant to ask what about our feelings?” you repeat your question, stressing on it this time around. he looks at you, one brow raised, “you act like you didn’t want to eat the take out the moment it arrived.” you hum at his words, lightly chuckling in agreement. sure, you were desperate to eat, but really, you meant to ask about your feelings before that.

“but i meant what i asked.” you tell him, pressing on your curiosity, sighing, as you take the plate of miso ramen he offers you.

“we’ll talk about it later.” he reassures you, taking a spoonful of noodles into his mouth, sounding distorted, “we have time for that.”

“do we?” you question the credibility of his words, “do we really have enough time?” your skepticism irks him to laugh, but with food in his mouth, he holds back.

“yn, i meant after we’re finished eating.” he sighs at you, consuming the bolus in his mouth before laughing at how clueless and dramatic you sounded to him only a minute ago. you purse your lips, embarrassed, with cheeks slightly red as you slurp the noodles dripping with soup.

“i’m so stupid.” you state, chuckling at yourself, following in wakatoshi’s footsteps to release a short laugh.

“you’re not. i think you’re just surprised, that’s all.” he reassures you, taking the flute in his hand to gulp a few sips of champagne.

“since when do you know so much about things like these?” you ask him, eyebrows raised, taken aback by his words in response to your statement.

“since i decided to give it a thought instead of just thinking about volleyball.” he confesses, shrugging at you, offering you his glass of champagne.

you accept his offering, telling him, “i think i like you better like this, toshi.” you take a few sips from his glass before returning it to him to finish off your ramen.

“i’m glad you do.“ his lips break into the widest grin they’ve known as he looks at the leftover noodles in his plate, barely accounting for another bite or two.

you let a few minutes pass in silence while you watch wakatoshi finish his yakisoba, alternating it with a few sips of champagne. the champagne bottle is half empty, which makes it even clearer that none of his words were a fluke tonight. wakatoshi ushijima really likes you. he really likes you and although it’s hard to digest, the truth is right in front of you.

he takes the last bite of his noodles, then places the plate aside to wipe his hands and lips using tissue papers. you waste no time walking up to him as soon as he puts the plate to the side, climbing onto his lap, whispering to him, as you feel your pulse throbbing against your veins, bringing your lips a centimetre further from his, “can i?” he nods, feeling the warm air escaping your lips against his own, and you let yourself kiss him. you hate to admit it, but he tastes like champagne and bell peppers, neither of the flavours you particularly fancy, but wakatoshi also tastes like love, so you let it slide, kissing him once more after you part lips for a mere second.

“wakatoshi, i don’t think i like you.” a heavy breath escapes your lips, brushing past his philtrum, you words instilling fear. “i love you.” you confess, blurry words fall around as you withdraw from a third kiss, hands still cupping his cheeks, breathing out loud, confessing the only thought swarming your mind, and instead of saying anything in reply to it, he lets his lips clash into your own for a fourth time, letting the flavours of miso powder and champagne mix again, and although it isn’t exactly the best thing he’s ever tasted, he’s fine with it, he thinks, as the littlest tinge of adrenaline begins to disperse around his blood.

“i love you too, yn.” he says it back, pulling you in closer, thrusting your waist nearer to his abdomen. your hands slide off his cheeks to seek the support of his body as he pulls your own closer to him and you toggle off balance in the process. your hands land on his shoulder and you can sense the rhythm of his heavy breaths with how close you are to him. he kisses your neck, and you squirm when you feel the ticklish sensation his lips leave behind as they trail along your skin.

“take me out, wakatoshi.” you whisper in his ear, voice interjected by heavy breaths that land on his head at the expense of the pleasure amassing within you in the moment, while he continues exploring the area beneath your ears, soft kisses pecking your skin.

“take me out, i said.” you raise your voice, instating your demand once again, taking his face into the palm of your hand to plant another kiss on his lips.

“okay.” he nods, accepting your orders as he lifts you up only to drop you on the cushion of your couch before he lets himself land on top you.

“take me out on a date tomorrow.” you repeat, heavy breaths escaping your lips when you feel wakatoshi’s lips beginning to explore your abdomen, and your body quivers at his touch, trembling to the rhythm of the kisses he leaves behind.

“i’ll take you out on a date tomorrow.” he nods at you, a gracious smile stretching his lips apart as his gaze, overflowing with love peers at you, like he’s the happiest man alive right now with you at the dispense of his arms. you smile back at him, a little restless with all the hormones rushing around your veins two fold, pulling his face closer to your own.

#haikyuu anime #haikyuu manga #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #ushijima x you #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #hq ushijima

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 11 months

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Team Japan’s Group Chat

YN gets targeted

Team Japan x GN! Manager (they/them)

Warning: swearing,bullying, fat shaming, self conscious reader, vague threats by the YN protection squad

AN: this is a request from @kitakashi!!! Currently in a Team Japan mood. Scratch that, always in a Team Japan mood 😌

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ryotan · 1 year

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Sae Itoshi x gn!reader x Rin Itoshi ; cw: suggestive ★°~

You played with the hem of your shirt nervously as cold turquoise eyes stared at you condescendingly, it was suffocating and you wanted to run away. That was the weight of the mere gaze of the genius footballer, Sae Itoshi.

~•°★°•★•°~

Your uncle, Ego Jinpachi, an excentric weirdo like no other had decided to make you the manager of Blue Lock Eleven, a team with the purpose of beating the Japan U-20 team and proving to the JFA that Project Blue Lock was a succes.

You've always been close to your uncle, due to your passion for football. Even if his football carrer ended after that accident, he still was the player you looked up to the most and the man who started your obsession for the sport. Despite that, you weren't kin on getting involved with that "Blue Lock Project" of his. Even if he's the one who thought you football and you partially shared his view about egotism, football was a team sport and you couldn't agree with the premise of the training camp.

That's why you rejected his suggestion, that and the fact that there was no need for a manager for a team who would only play one match. Ego, however, was insistent. He claimed that this match would be critical for the future of Blue Lock and that he wanted your input into making the best team possible with the 35 players who made it so far. Ultimately, you gave in.

And to be fair, you didn't regret it. Within the 3 weeks of training for the U-20 match, most of the boys grew on you. In fact, you could even say you were on friendly terms with some.

However, the one you were the most fond of was Itoshi Rin. He probably was the only one who didn't even bother remembering your name, but still you admired his work ethic and zeal for football. Besides, as embarrassed as you were to admit it, his looks were breath-taking. His tall, muscular build was attractive, but nothing out of the ordinary at a football training facility like Blue Lock. What really pulled you in were his eyes.

That ocean hue that sometimes shimmered with something dark, animalistic, almost as if a beast was let loose, made you shiver. Not because that frigid gaze scared you. If anything it was the opposite, you loved it, how cold it was.

~•°★°•★•°~

And that's why when you first met the older Itoshi at the end of the U-20 match, you were completely mesmerized by his stone-cold turquoise eyes. That's why you dumbly asked him for some of his time if he was planning on staying on Japan for a bit more. To talk about football, of course.

He was about to reject your request, when Shidou and Rin approached you.

"Hey, genius, you still didn't give me your number! But to think you would be chatting with the little mouse, maybe you two are up for a threesome~?" Shidou grinned wildly. You were appalled, but not surprised. The striker loved to tease you and had apparently taken a liking to the genius midfielder as well judging by his easy to misinterpret words on the field.

However, you were worried about Rin's reaction. He told you, just a day before the match, about how his main goal was to crush his brother. Besides, considering his state during the end of the game, their relationship was clearly worse than you thought. And yet, despite finally being able to make some progress in befriending Rin whom you like, you went and asked Sae to hang out. Just because he had the same eyes.

Rin said nothing, he only scowled.

And then, unexpectedly, he put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards him. You could guess you were as red as a tomato, but you didn't care. You only wanted to savour the moment, the chances of being this close to Rin again were slim, after all. But, sadly, you were snapped out of your blissful state by Sae's voice.

"I'll be going back to Europe tomorrow in the afternoon, so I have time to entertain you."

You blinked once, twice. Was this for real? You must be hallucinating, right? There was no way someone ordinary like you could get this much attention from the unreachable Itoshi siblings. And yet, here you were.

You looked at Sae and then back at Rin, they were both glaring at each other with pure unfiltered disgust. And then you had a moment of lucidity. The attention accorded to you was merely the product of their conflict. Rin would see it as another lost battle if you were to look at Sae the same way you look at him. And Sae simply wanted to beat his younger brother.

But it didn't matter. A pro-footballer is not someone you'd want to pursue a relationship with, a partner with such career would be far apart from you for periods of time that were way too long.

Therefore, since you'll likely never see those eyes that you loved so much anymore after today, might as well go with Sae.

~•°★°•★•°~

And yet, it wasn't the last day you had the chance to get lost in those icy eyes.

5 years had passed, Rin moved to France to play as a forward for PGX. And you decided to move in with him so Sae could visit you more often.

Your relationship with the Itoshi brothers was ... complicated. Rin was just your friend and Sae was just your friend's brother whom you saw once in a blue moon. Yet, Rin always touched you in ways that made you seem more than just friends. A gentle caress to your cheek that felt too intimate, a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, a hand resting on your thigh and then moving higher, fingers stroking places they shouldn't.

And maybe this wasn't just carnal, maybe he really liked you, maybe you should feel guilty about the way your mouth melted into Sae's whenever he stopped by your apartment, guilty about what you let him do to you in Rin's apartment when the latter hated his brother so much. But you couldn't help it.

Ever since that day, after the U-20 match, you became addicted to Sae Itoshi. You couldn't explain why though.

The "date" you had was awkward and for the first time, you felt intimidated by the characteristic icy eyes of the Itoshi brothers. Rin's stare had something brutal about it, but still you could find some resemblance of warmth in it. Sae's gaze, though, was devoid of anything warm.

You remembered how you played with the hem of your shirt, flustered, as he stared at you coldly. The horrible feeling of nausea that took over you whenever you'd make eye contact. He made you feel as though you'll never amount to anything in your life just by looking into your eyes. And yet, there was something enchanting about that awful sensation.

~•°★°•★•°~

Simply put, Sae was like a drug. You knew he wasn't good for you, but you couldn't give up on him. You barely met and everytime you did, he made you feel like shit. And yet, he also made you feel better than anyone else ever could, than Rin ever could. His skills surely weren't world-class only when it came to football.

The thin line between misery and ecstasy, that's what you've learned from the older Itoshi and what made you come back to him again and again like a fool.

#I attempted to write a fic #since it's Valentine's and stuff #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #sae itoshi #rin itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi rin #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi brothers #ryo writes 🌸

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faeirtopia · 4 months

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ʚɞ ; christmas with shohei!

pairing! boyfriend!shohei x gn!reader.

warnings! none.

it’s such a magical time with him.

every other year he likes to travel with you for christmas! to a place where it snows.

although he’s not very fond of the cold, he does it for you and wants to experience a white christmas.

it’s him being extremely sneaky with your presents and making sure to hide them well.

jokes that they are coming from santa. he’s santa.

hot chocolate with extra marshmallows on top!

and when he drinks all his he asks for a sip of yours.

decorating the tree together! he’ll put you on his shoulders so you can put the star on top.

then jokes that he’ll drop you. shut up shohei

baking cookies together! whether it’ll be homemade cookies you both work hard on or the pillsbury ones!

teaches you about japanese christmas traditions.

buys ornaments the both of you can decorate yourselves.

he makes his all about you and colors in a bunch of hearts.

christmas movie marathon!!! that involves a lot of cuddling and kissing. he’s so warm you love it.

matching sweaters, pjs, slippers, and mugs.

once he starts wrapping and placing your presents under the tree, you’re in shock. there’s so many.

“I love spoiling you. you always do so much for me. so let me return the favor, hm?”

he ends up eating way too many cookies and gets a tummy ache so you rub it for him.

in japan, christmas eve is considered a very romantic day for couples so he’ll shower you in love and sentimental gifts and warmth.

if the location you’re in is getting snow, he bundles up in the cutest way and wants to make snow angels with you.

“I use to be on that team.”

you ask him what he meant by that-

“we are making angels and I use to be with them.”

in conclusion, christmas with him is memorable.

#shohei ohtani #shobae #boyfriend shohei 🤭#christmas #mlb fandom #mlb fanfic #baseball fan #fanfic #fandom #mlb #mlb imagines #imagines #scenarios #headcanon #baseball #mlb american league #mlb au

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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For The Gold 🥇 | Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Pilot/Olympian!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), slight Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Content warnings: fluff, mentions of injuries, slight profanity. Might be emotional for you so be warned| Gn!reader (They/them) | wc: 12k+

Premise: In which the 2019 TopGun Uranium detachment return to Fightertown to watch and cheer on their colleague & friend as they compete on the greatest sporting stage the world has ever seen for their last chance at Olympic glory.

Note: so I was an athlete growing up (I did gymnastics, soccer, and figure skating) and although I no longer pursue my dream of going to the Olympics (my biggest regret in life) I still get super excited when it comes around. It’s currently World Cup season & I’m hyperfixating to say the least on sports and now have these ideas of a professional athlete!reader works for the dagger squad. Let me know if you want more because I totally have ideas for other sports— especially the ones I played because I have more personal knowledge of them, but I LOVE watching the track and field and nearly went that path when I was a kid because I loved to run and was really fast (I played wing for soccer in high school and I always had people tell me I should’ve been on the track team instead). For this imagine, imagine you were born in 1990 so it would put you at age 30-31 in 2021 and just to be clear this is following the idea that the events of TGM took place in 2019 since the movie was supposed to come out around that time or 2020.

“Let’s freaking go!!!” Javy practically shouts as he claps his hands when entering The Hard Deck to a crowd of people and his friends. Eyes were already glued to the multiple TV screens Penny had set up with the help of regular patrons. There was a table filled with food set out, coolers of ice and beers donated by customers. The bar was buzzing with excitement with many sporting team USA gear and waving American flags. It was the early hours of the morning—literally 5 am and everyone in the building had slept the duration of the previous day in order to pull an all-nighter or had just woken up. They wanted to watch the event live and not the replay later that day due to the 17 hour time difference. News crews were there as well, hoping to catch everyone’s reaction.

The squad rolled their eyes at their colleague, but smiled nonetheless. They too were filled with anticipation. “How much time until their up?” Coyote asked, taking a beer before finding a place beside Hangman. The Dagger squad had arrived early to get good spots with Coyote being the last to arrive. Now there was hardly any space in some areas with the turn out. Civilians and servicemen swarmed every corner.

“About thirty or so minutes. They should be coming into the arena soon.”

Everyone from TopGun was there, including Cyclone, Warlock, Hondo, Maverick and the current aviators going through the TopGun program. Many of the former 2019 detachment had gone off to their old or new assignments, but as soon as the announcement of the team hit the news they were popping off in the group chat and booking flights to Fightertown.

So here they all were. All 12 of the special detachment that trained together for a high-risk uranium enrichment plant mission back again in the Hard Deck like the first night three ago. Rooster, Hangman, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz, Halo, Omaha, Harvard, and Yale. They were only missing one person.

The person across the Pacific Ocean who was the reason they were together to cheer on from home, and would be going for the gold in one final run.

It was the first week of August, 2021. The Games of the XXXII Olympiad in Tokyo, Japan.

What should have been held the year prior, was postponed due to the COVID-19 Pandemic. Now after years of hard work & dedications, nearly 12 thousand athletes from 206 nations around the world were gathered for the greatest sports event in history.

17 days, 339 events in 33 sports. The gold medal on the line.

For Y/n L/n, this was the moment they’d been waiting for. At 31 years old, Y/n spent their entire childhood and adolescence dreaming of the day they would walk through the tunnel of an Olympic arena to represent the USA. From the moment they could walk the track became their life. Their parents were coaches at Vanderbilt University and were the contributing factor to them pursuing the sport. And at age six, Y/n sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium in the summer of 1996 where they witnessed with awe as Micheal Johnson won the gold for the USA in the Men’s 200m & 400m sprint and Carl Lewis defended his title of the long jump champion for four consecutive Olympics. Just days prior Y/n witnessed history for USA Gymnastics when the Magnificent 7 defeated Russia for the US’s first women’s All-Around team gold medal.

It was a memorable Games, held on home soil in the city of Atlanta and with many firsts and defenders.

It was the spark of a lifelong goal for the six year old in the stands.

Blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. From an early age Y/n loved to run. But sprinting was their passion. The 100m, 200m, & 400m became their sole focus.

Everyday, sometimes twice or three times Y/n was running drills and sprints. Their day would start with an early morning jog with their dad before the sun was even out, followed by breakfast before heading to the track. From there they would stretch, run drills, and conditioning. Then they would have an hour break for lunch before doing it all over again until dinner. The day would end with another cycle of drills and conditioning. Y/n would be out of breath, sweating, and sometimes in pain.

But they were determined. Like most athletes who dedicate their lives to the international level they became homeschooled and missed out on many things a typical child or teen would experience. Though Y/n had friends it was only a select few. There was hardly time for a social life and therefore it was hard for them to form connections. It wasn’t until they got into competitions did they begin making friends with fellow competitors.

At age 10 Y/n participated in their first meet. It was a let down, but not a total loss. Sure they didn’t win a medal but they didn’t come in last and that in itself was a win in their eyes. It just made them more determined to do better and the next season they delivered by claiming a regional title. As years went by regionals became state titles and soon Y/n was a national champion at age 16. That winning season had brands reaching out to sponsor the teen, but if they were to also take a chance at an NCAA title in college then sponsorships were gonna have to wait.

2008 was the year to remember. Y/n had attended their first World Championships and although they didn’t win gold, they took the bronze and became a likely contender to make the Olympic team in the upcoming trials. They had just graduated with their diploma and had accepted a full ride to Vanderbilt University as part of their track team. What came as a big surprise to their parents was Y/n would not just be getting their degree and competing for the college team, they would also be doing the Naval ROTC program.

Unbeknownst to their family, Y/n was drawn to the world of aviation. Their grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and would tell them stories of what it was like in the air. He even had a cool callsign, ‘Viper,’ and taught at the Navy’s prestigious school for pilots. When Y/n was a child, he would take them to the air shows and teach them all about the maneuvers they were doing and even brought them to TopGun. They were in awe as he would explain all the gadgets and weapons of the F-14.

Yes, track and the Olympics was their life, but something was calling them to the skies.

“Honey, where did this come from? You never talked about joining the Navy before,” their mother said with confusion at the dinner table when Y/n explained their upcoming schedule. “If you make the team this summer I hope you’re not planning for this to be your only games. You’re so young and could easily go again for London and the 2016 games.”

“That’s still the plan, mom,” Y/n sighed, “But you remember all those stories grandpa would tell me about his pilot days? I want to do something more in case this doesn’t work out—have a backup plan per say. What if I tear my hamstring or something happens that I have to retire?” It wasn’t something they liked to think about, but with being an athlete the next meet is never guaranteed. Injuries are common—especially torn ACLs and hamstrings. Y/n had other passions besides track and wanted something there for if the worst happened.

“Y/n, if you do two years of their program you have to decide whether to commit or not and you’ll likely be commissioned when you graduate,” their father pointed out, “That means you’ll have new priorities and if you're serious about flight school that is going to cut time off the track. London is possible given it will be your last year in college—maybe we can pull some strings and have your commission pushed back if you make the team—-but I don’t think 2016 would be. You’re talking balancing a career as a Naval officer and professional athlete. That’s a lot to take on—physically and mentally.”

He had a point and Y/n knew it. London was in four years and definitely possible even if they fail to make the Beijing team. The location of 2016 had yet to be decided, but with the timing it would put Y/n four years into a possible Navy career.

Still they were wanted to make both work.

An Olympic champion and a fighter pilot.

First they had to get through 2008 and boy was it a year to remember. It fulfilled one half of the Olympic dream for Y/n: making the team and competing on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Tears streamed down their face as they embraced their parents following the end of the trials. It was a hell of a trials with Y/n competing against some of the best track stars in the country. They were completely starstruck when Allison Felix congratulated them following the announcement, Y/n remembered watching her four years prior in Athens for her Olympic debut and thought, ‘I really hope we’re teammates in Beijing.’

Unfortunately, a gold medal was not in store for the athlete. Of the three events; 100m, 200m, & 400m, Y/n only qualified for the 200m & 400m after finishing in the top two of their heat. The night of the 200m finals was a saddening with Y/n finishing fourth, just shy of a medal, but the Games were not a total loss when days later an Olympic bronze medal was placed around their neck and the American Flag rose alongside Great Britain and Jamaica’s.

And so the next four years of training for London—with Rio De Janeiro in 2016 looming around the corner—began the second they touched back on U.S soil. On top it was the pressure of securing NCAA titles not to mention A’s & B’s in their classes, while also getting through one of the top collegiate ranked NROTC programs.

It was a lot. And Y/n became burnt out at times. They had already set their name in record books at the national level, now it was time to amp up the game on the international and college level. A bronze medal would not satisfy Y/n, gold was the goal.

It all paid off by the time 2012 arrived. With a few more national titles under their belt and a World Championship in the 400m, Y/n was the talk for a gold among commentators. At the end of their collegiate career they secured several titles in their three events and managed to come out with a 3.8 cumulative GPA. In regards to the NROTC Y/n committed to the program after their second year and was set to commission that summer. The trials were around the same time as what would have been the ceremony, but after several meetings they allowed it to be postponed until after the trials. It would be some time before Y/n would be assigned an OTS due to the path they were taking with flight school and therefore it would likely not interfere with the upcoming Olympics. “Bring home the gold for us,” the officer shook their hand at the end. It filled them with nerves, but mostly perseverance, “I plan to.”

The trials were a success once again with Y/n having the honor to call themselves a two-time Olympian. The five colored rings were tattooed on their bicep, something they did immediately after Beijing that often resulted in being recognized in public, and gold was in their mind. After qualifying for all three events and earning a place on the 4x100 relay, Y/n had four chances at the gold: 3 individual and 1 team.

It was a silver lining moment in all three individual events. After failing to qualify for the 100m finals in Beijing, Y/n pulled a show stopping finish in the last heat earning them a place in the final. It was the most heat pumping 10 seconds of their life that happened in the blink of an eye. Before they knew it they were on the podium with a silver medal and the same would follow in the 200m and 400m. At the end of the 400m ceremony they were bombarded by reporters with the same question, “Y/n, what a run tonight, congratulations again this is your third medal in these games and it seems to be a silver lining moment for you. What are your thoughts?”

Still coming off the emotion from winning their fourth Olympic medal, a privilege not many could say, Y/n smiled wide, “It’s amazing really, you know I took the bronze four years ago in this event and I’m so grateful to come out with another medal—this time being silver. I couldn’t believe Monday night when I took the silver in the 100m—just making it to the finals after not qualifying in Beijing was an accomplishment and same goes for taking second in the 200m. I want to thank my parents, who are also my coaches and have been with me on this journey since the beginning. I’m just so blessed and filled with happiness tonight—I could not have done this without them.”

“You still have a chance at the gold in Wednesday’s relay. How are you feeling about that? What can we expect by the team?”

“We have such an amazing group for the relay, I’m so honored I get to represent the United States alongside them. Every one of us have worked so hard to be here and have really put our blood, sweat, and tears. Hopefully bring home the gold—I know each of us are going to give it our best.”

Y/n’s publicist from the side was signaling for them to hurry up, “One last question before you go,” the reporter quickly said. “For the people at home who have been cheering you on these past four years, can we expect you to return for Rio? I know you could very well take the gold in the relay, but are you hoping to try for an individual in the future?” This was the question Y/n had been preparing for the entire games. Having managed to keep their NROTC program hidden from the media, it troubled Y/n to reveal they would be a Navy officer by the end of the summer. It wasn’t odd for active duty members to be athletes, there were plenty who participated in the games every four years. It would just be difficult given the career path they chose and having to get all the paperwork filed for time off around meets and international competitions.

After a moment of thinking, they finally answered, “I’m very lucky I get to say I competed in these games twice now. I’m twenty-two now and will be twenty-six by the time Rio comes around—not to mention I start flight school pretty soon,” there was immediate surprise by the reporter, but Y/n continued and was quick to finish with. “I’m gonna work hard as I always do and hopefully Rio is in the cards for me. But to give a yes or no imma just say yes, that is the plan.”

Before the reporter could question the topic of flight school, Y/n was already saying goodbye and letting their publicist pull them away. The relay was in two days and was their last chance at winning a gold for the London games. Of course, Y/n was hopeful they would make the Rio team for the sake of winning an individual gold medal. There would no doubt be glory and honor if they were to win the relay, but it had been their dream since childhood to stand on the podium with a gold around their neck for one of their events.

The relay was all they ever dreamed of. A strong group with Y/n leading the first leg before handing it off, giving their teammate a great start to pull a lead against the other nations. As they were walking back to the start, their heart was racing and not just from the adrenaline…but by their teammate being the first to cross the finish line. Then there was the sound of the announcer amongst the roaring crowd, “WORLD RECORD!!!” with the USA appearing beside the #1 spot.

Y/n was screaming before they could stop themselves, “Oh my god!!” knees hit the track as they sank to the ground. They couldn’t even hear themselves by the cheers. It was a spectacular moment with Y/n pulling themselves up to run and embrace their teammates and share the glory they just made. Not only were they Olympic champions but also World Record holders of the 4x100m relay.

“The United States has taken the gold here today in the 4x100m relay and a new world record has been set thanks to the extraordinary start by Y/n L/n.” “This relay group gave it their all today, John. It was such a close call coming around on the third leg, but the Americans pulled through for a stunning finish for Olympic gold.”

With an American flag in their hand, Y/n joined their teammates beside the record projection. They were teary eyed, but held off from crying because they knew the emotion would come full heartedly on the podium. And boy did it come. The second the national anthem was playing, the first tear fell from Y/n’s eyes. The medal was heavy around their neck, but it was a reminder that they achieved the goal they set out when they were six years old.

Olympic champion.

And they got to share it with their teammates—an immense honor they would cherish till the end of time.

Y/n could barely remember all that happened following the podium ceremony. After a celebration with their parents and best friend, who flew all the way out to London to support them, they had no more events and got to rest for the remainder of the games. Closing ceremonies were spectacular. One of Y/n’s favorite moments from the Beijing games was getting to mingle with athletes from the other nations during the closing ceremonies. This time around Y/n was speechless as they got to see a Spice Girls reunion and One Direction perform.

Life became chaotic to say the least following the return from London. After winning four medals including a gold, Y/n was asked by several talk show hosts to appear for an interview. They accepted a few and were immediately bombarded with questions about the little detail they slipped after winning the silver in the 400m. “You made it known to the world that you’ll be going to flight school, was it? What can you tell us about that?”

“Well during my time at Vanderbilt, where I competed for them in the NCAA—which can I say, It’s a completely different ball field when your parents are not only your coaches for international competitions but also college meets. The energy is different, especially because they’ve been there for almost two decades now and are the definition of school spirit. Anyways, while I was there I also took the route of doing their Navy ROTC program. My grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and pretty much became my inspiration for wanting to fly—on top of being an athlete. It was something I thought long and hard about. I wasn’t sure if I would even make the London team and of course anything can happen, but I knew I wanted to go to fight school back when I competed in 2008. I actually will be commissioning once I’m done with all this post-Olympic press.”

The ceremony was a bittersweet moment. With their friends and family around them, Y/n was pinned on with the ranks of Ensign and named an officer of the United States Navy. From there were the challenges of balancing a career as both a professional athlete and naval aviator. Often were days of bad mental health and aches after overexertion. OTS & Flight school was intense but shaped Y/n in many ways. The first day they were recognized by a classmate resulting in the callsign, “Olympian,” after everyone would say, “Hey, Olympian!” when calling out to them after two straight days.

“Could’ve been worse,” Y/n chuckled after their parents were like, ‘really?’ when they told them. “I mean it could have been something like ‘Short-track,’ or ‘Goldilocks,’ if they thought about it. If I fucked up doing something then they would’ve named me something related to it. I’ll take Olympian cause that’s what I am.”

After completing flight school and receiving their first duty station, Y/n made the decision to hire a new coach. The World Championships were coming up and they did not want to uproot their parents while they were still the head coaches at Vanderbilt. At first they protested, but eventually relented on the condition that Y/n’s coach would be their former colleague. He was the former head coach of Vanderbilt when their parents were athletes themselves before becoming assistant coaches. “He is everything you need to bring your A-game these next seasons and Rio. I’ll make the call first thing in the morning and see what he says.”

The four years between London and Rio were brutal. The training with their new coach and balancing an aviation career showed more hardships than ever. Y/n proved themselves to be a talented pilot despite the struggles and eventually was invited in 2015 to attend the Navy’s prestigious Fighter Weapons School more commonly known as Top Gun. The same place their grandfather attended and taught at.

A hard decision had to be made when the invite came. The time period interfered with the track season and Y/n would not be able to defend their two-consecutive world titles in the 400m sprint. In the end, Y/n announced they would be pulling out from the 2015 season to attend Top Gun. They weighed out the pros and cons and felt it was the best route given the Olympics were a year away. If an injury were to occur then it could result in Y/n not even having the chance to do the trials. Their coach was frustrated in the beginning, as one would be after dominating the national and international meets for two years straight. He eventually put his differences aside to put focus on what Y/n needed to improve if they were to take the gold in Rio.

It was at Top Gun that Y/n met fellow naval aviator Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. They were seated next to each other in one of the many lecture rooms at Fightertown where Nat had to do a double take after recognition sparked in her. Nat was an athlete in high school and college who, like many, would sit with her family to watch the Olympics every four years. Though she didn’t run track, a sibling of hers did so they would always tune into the events when they came on. After seeing the patch reading ‘Olympian,’ Nat had to hold back her fangirling as the memory of her cheering when the US took gold in the 4x100m relay. ‘It has to be them.’ At the end of the lecture she approached Y/n with a shy smile, “I’m so sorry if this is weird for you, but are you Y/n L/n? I’m Natasha—Phoenix.”

They struck up a friendship during their time at Top Gun. The two bonded over their NCAA careers and sports in general. Nat admired Y/n for being able to balance being an athlete and aviator, for she made the difficult decision to not pursue her sport after college. What was ironic was they didn’t feel threatened by the other when going after the top spot in their class, considering they were both obviously competitive. Both had immense respect for the other, and didn’t care at the end of the day who came out on top. They both had similar hobbies outside of flying and would spend nights watching movies, going to the bars, or playing volleyball with their fellow pilots. It was a genuine friendship with Nat supporting Y/n even after they graduated from Top Gun both ranked #1 in their class.

Nat even took time off to attend the 2016 U.S. Track & Field Olympic Trials. There she witnessed Y/n, who she now called a best friend, qualify for their third consecutive Olympics. Nat never screamed louder in her life than when Y/n took the top spot on the team for their events. “Oh my God, you did it!” She hugged the athlete when it was all done. “Holy shit congratulations, Oly! This is it—this is gonna be your year!” Nat wouldn’t be in Rio, but promised to cheer Y/n from home.

Unfortunately the journey for the individual gold medal ended before it could even start. After qualifying for the 100m and 200m finals with the expectation of being part of the relay team once again, Y/n’s dream of gold crashed during the semifinals of the 400m.

Literally crashed.

Their signature event which had an Olympic bronze and silver to their name as well as several World titles, ended in catastrophe. As Y/n came up on the last leg with the final turn, Y/n had a tight lead against their main opponent. But before they could blink the athlete to their left tripped and fell to the side directly in front of them. Moving so fast and unable to stop to avoid the person, Y/n topped over and felt a searing pain in their side as they landed awkwardly.

Gasps rang out before the stadium fell silent with just the faint sound of cheers from the winners of the race. Y/n was panting, clutching onto their side as fire filled the entire right side of their body. The athlete who tripped was in tears and apologizing profusely. There was still adrenaline from the sprint as the arena stopped spinning around Y/n. Determined to cross the finish line, Y/n pulled themself up and helped their fellow athlete up, “It’s okay, c’mon. Let’s finish this.” They were crying and Y/n had their own tears from the pain in their side and leg, but they only had a few yards to go. Cradling their right arm, Y/n was practically limping alongside their opponent while struggling to breath. Each time they took a breath they were met with pain, not to mention each step had them wince.

They didn’t want to think of the extent of the injuries. The pain alone indicated it was bad. Y/n knew right there their Rio run was done for. Their lips trembled as the reality set in.

The athlete saw Y/n’s condition and immediately brought them to their side as they approached the finish line. Cheers and claps ignited the stadium. There was no doubt they were moved by the display of sportsmanship between two athletes from differing nations. Both with the same goal of Olympic glory that would not be delivered.

Y/n was swarmed by the medical staff. The athlete who tripped them kept apologizing, filled with guilt, embarrassment and shame causing injuries to the Olympian. They felt a little pain from falling but nothing to the extent Y/n had. They had practically gone flying forward and crash landed to avoid hitting their head hard on the track. Now that the adrenaline had finally worn off, Y/n was having to do everything to hold back from collapsing. Y/n embraced the athlete with a hug despite the multiple medics yelling at them, “Don’t blame yourself, it could have happened to anyone. Okay? I’m not angry with you at all.” It was true, Y/n wasn’t angry. Were they sad? Of course, their Olympics were totally over after being diagnosed with a fractured right arm, a bruised rib, mild concussion from hitting their head on the track, and a torn ACL in their right knee.

Commentators were speechless when the incident occurred, “Coming around the corner on the final stretch it’s a tight race between USA, Jamaica, and France—Oh! Oh no! Oh my goodness, there’s been a crash here ladies and gentleman and it doesn’t look good for the American Y/n L/n. Not at all, they are not moving—oh wait no they are getting up right now and helping the athlete from Poland. But L/n looks to be in pain they’re holding onto their arm and I can see they are having trouble jogging—a slight limp to their step. Now the Polish athlete has taken L/n under their arm and they are crossing the finish line to the cheers of the arena in a display that could only be described as what the Olympics is truly about. Great sportsmanship here folks. It’s unsure what L/n is feeling right now but one thing is certain, we will not get to see Y/n go for the gold in the 400m final.”

After the race when the NBC announcers live from Rio were in the studio recapping, they gave an update to Y/n’s situation.

“Breaking news we’ve just received on American Y/n L/n. After the unfortunate incident in tonight’s 400m semifinal, the 26-year-old from Nashville, Tennessee was rushed to the hospital after it was realized the injuries they sustained were more severe than what they thought. It’s being reported Y/n is in surgery for a fracture to their right arm and torn ligament in their right knee. It’s also been noted the athlete suffered a mild concussion as well as a bruised rib. Their coach has come out with a statement on behalf of L/n letting it be known they’ll not be competing in the 100 and 200m finals nor the 4x100 and 4x400m relays they were scheduled to compete in. L/n also has said they will remain in Rio to recover until after the conclusion of these Olympic Games before returning with their teammates to the States.

“The gold medalist in the team relay from four years ago has not said if they will be aiming for a shot at the 2020 games in Tokyo, Japan. L/n was the 2008 bronze medalist in the 400m dash before claiming silver medals in the 100, 200, and 400m in London as well as sharing the gold for the 4x100m relay. They were the leading contender for an individual gold in one of the events after dominating the 2013 and 2014 World Championships. The three-time Olympian pulled out from the 2015 season due to conflicting commitments after revealing in 2012 they were commissioned into the United States Navy following their time at Vanderbilt University. These games in Rio were their first international competition since the one year hiatus. We can only hope Y/n will continue their journey to an individual gold medal in Tokyo, but from those of us in the studio and on behalf of everyone watching at home, we wish Y/n L/n a speedy recovery and safe trip back to the States.”

It was a solemn week in Rio with Y/n sitting in a hospital bed and the games playing on the tv screen. Their coach was with them, as was their dad and together they cheered the US when they took the gold in several events including defending the 4x100m relay. The doctors in Rio gave Y/n a recovery period of nearly one year—the longest healing process being the torn knee. It would be nine months until Y/n could even jog on it, but the doctors recommended waiting a full year before testing it. PT was going to be a pain in the ass, but as long as they didn’t run or do sprints then Y/n would be able to do all else after everything else healed.

Their concussion lasted a couple weeks and the bruised rib took over a month to heal, as did the fractured arm. The 2017 worlds and nationals were out of the question. Thankfully Y/n was still able to fly once the concussion was gone and their arm was fully functional.

The entire year the athlete was unsure of what to do about Tokyo. All their focus was put into flying. Running missions instead of the track and being promoted to Lieutenant in 2018. That same year they decided to try for one more shot at Olympic gold by training for Tokyo. Their coach and parents were all too pleased—even Nat after Y/n called her up to ask for advice. They had a lot to work on since Y/n waited an extra six months after fully recovering. The 2018 season was unattainable so the goal was a comeback in the 2019 season gearing up for the 2020 Olympics.

Just like when Y/n was a child, blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. More times could they remember wanting to quit when their knee started to act up after a bad start off the blocks. They had more arguments with their coach which only fueled the fire. Lastly they were on intense missions that took a toll on their mental health. Nat would check in on them every once in a while, but Y/n brushed it off. This is what they signed up for. They made their bed, now they were to lay in it.

2019 nearly brought deja vu. The World Championships were held in Qatar at the end of September leading into October when Y/n got the call from Vice Admiral Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson.

“The Pentagon has tasked me with assembling a strike team for a special detachment. I’ve seen your record and I feel you have what it takes to be a possible member of this mission. Now I know your situation and it is my understanding you’re currently in Qatar, what time are you expected to be stateside?”

Y/n’s hands were shaking, dread filling them at the thought they would likely have to decline an assignment. But these championships were more imported. “The last day is the sixth, but if I qualify for the finals of all my events then I should be done by the fifth, sir.”

“That’s perfect,” his words had them sigh in relief. “The tentative date to report to North Island is the 24th. I’ll be emailing you the information at another time.”

“Yes, sir. I will be there. Thank you for informing me, sir.”

“Oh and Lieutenant?” Cyclone stopped them before they could end the call.

“Yes, sir?”

There’s a slight pause, “Good luck out there. Bring home the gold for us.”

And bring it home they did. In an amazing comeback after what could have been a career ending injury, Y/n L/n reclaimed their title as the world champion in the 400m dash. They fell short in the 200m, but left with the silver and even secured the gold for the team 4x100m & 4x400m relays. People called it the ‘comeback of the decade,’ and Y/n fell subject to a lot of media attention in the world of sports. Their publicist did their best to handle the press once they found out about Y/n’s upcoming commitment. “I won’t let a single soul find out about this, Y/n, I promise you. The devil works hard, but I work harder.”

Once stateside track was put on hold to prepare and partake for the special Top Gun detachment. Dressed in their service khaki’s, Y/n entered The Hard Deck for the first time in three years and was immediately tackled by Phoenix. “You’re here! Holy shit when did you get back?”

“Like two weeks ago, I’ve been chilling since Qatar since there were no assignments until this.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Top Gun detachment too?” Phoenix raised a brow before frowning, “Why didn’t you tell me the other day on the phone?”

Y/n gave the woman a look, “I wasn’t sure we could even mention it to people. Plus you didn’t say anything either, Phee.” They got her there, the pilot raising a hand as if to say, “touché”. By now they have drawn the attention of several other aviators, who all appeared amused by the display of affection by Natasha and were curious to know who it was that received it. One person, Bob, had their jaw dropped when it clicked who they were. Payback appeared to be deep in thought, like they recognized Y/n but couldn’t put a name to their face.

“Trace, you gonna introduce us to your friend?” the blonde aviator, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin said with a pool cue in hand. He was totally checking Y/n out with a settle drift of the eyes up and down. They didn’t look impressed but smiled to the others nonetheless.

Natasha brought the pilot over and proudly introduced them, “Fellas, this is Y/n L/n. Better known as ‘Olympian.’ One of the best damn pilots you’ll ever see. We both shared the honor of first in the class at Top Gun in 2015.” Nat then introduced all the guys and their callsigns, Y/n shaking each of their hands—Bob still appeared starstruck when they let go of his hand.

“Olympian, huh?” Hangman chuckled at the name, “That’s quite the callsign. What are you Greek? Or obsessed with mythology?” Rooster glared at the man, but also looked curious for the reason behind the Y/n’s callsign. Even their name sounded familiar. They had yet to see the tattoo on Y/n’s bicep, which now had the names Beijing XXIX, London XXX and Rio XXXI in tiny cursive below the rings.

Before Nat or Y/n could fire back at Jake, Bob dropped his cup of peanut shells. Everyone looked at him like, ‘what the hell, man?’ But Y/n started to smile, recognizing the shock in his face as though he had been right about something.

“S-sorry. Oh my God,” he stuttered with red cheeks, “You’re Y/n L/n. L-like THE Olympic gold medalist Y/n L/n. Oh my God I’ve watched you since 2008–since Beijing!” The revelation had shocked looks from everyone now besides Nat of course.

Payback suddenly jumped from his seat, “holy shit! I knew I recognized you from somewhere but couldn’t exactly figure it out for the life of me.” The man was stationed in London at the time of the Olympic Games and attended the night the US won gold in the relays. Now here is a member that he cheered on from the stands in front of him. “Wow, I was in London seven years ago—I-I saw you compete. This is fucking unreal.” Y/n laughed, shaking Payback’s hand. He was still coming down from the shock, having just crossed his mind that all over ESPN and Sportscenter the past month sportscasters were talking about Y/n’s comeback.

“Wait a minute,” Rooster pitched in, the memory of being in a bar the summer of 2016 played in his mind. In the same memory he remembered watching the 400m semifinals on the tv scream and gasping with everyone else when the American contender for the gold had tripped over their competitor and was out the remainder of the games. Coming closer to the scene in front of him, Rooster’s eyes caught the black ink on Y/n’s bicep. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re a pilot, a naval pilot like us? And you’re a fucking olympian?”

“Three-time to be exact, but who’s counting?” Y/n teased, causing Phoenix to chuckle and hand them a beer. All the men minus Payback and Bob, who had slight knowledge of Y/n’s career, practically had their eyes bulging. Rooster honestly thought they had just been in London and Rio. “It’s nice to meet you all. And to answer your question…Bradley, right?”

“Yeah, but please call me Rooster.” Y/n tried not to giggle at the callsign.

“Rooster, but yes I am a pilot, as our lovely Phoenix has pointed out I graduated Top Gun with her three years ago.”

“Weren’t you just in Qatar two weeks ago?” Payback asked when he remembered the World Championships in Athletics had just taken place. All over sportscenter they were talking about the comeback of the decade. “I swear I just watched you on my tv the other day during replays of the world championships.”

Y/n sipped their beer before replying with a nod, “Yeah I was. I probably wouldn’t be here if the timing wasn’t perfect.”

“That’s crazy,” Fanboy commented, still in disbelief he was speaking to an actual Olympic athlete. After hearing the stories from his fellow athletes— and doing a quick google search when no one was looking—Mickey was internally fanboying like his callsign namesake. “How have you managed to do both?”

“Lot’s of sleepless nights, determination, desire to win, and tequila on the weekends.” There were laughs at that. For the rest of the night Y/n fell into conversation with everyone. A few asked for a picture, which they were happy to do, and even signed some autographs for Bob and Fanboy. They caught up with Nat, relieved London memories with Payback and went into detail about their injuries when Rooster brought it up.

“I was at the bar with some buddies and saw that happen live. Everyone couldn’t believe it and I remember seeing you limp across the finish line with the, I think it was the Polish athlete? That’s amazing you even managed to get up after a crash like that.” Y/n was on their second beer, sitting between Bob and Coyote and across from Rooster while the others listened from the sides as they continued the game of pool.

“What were you thinking at that moment?” Javy asked with curiosity. “Did you like automatically know it was over for you?”

Y/n thought for a bit before replying, “the second I hit the track I knew my chances for the 400m were done—it was the semifinals after all. When I first felt the pain I thought it was the typical instant pain that would go away after a bit. Then when I started to move it got worse and as soon as I got up I thought, ‘yeah there’s no way I’m gonna be able to do the finals or relays.’ My chest was on fire from the bruised rib and then I could barely feel my knee once the adrenaline wore off. I probably would’ve collapsed after the finish line if they weren’t holding me up.”

‘Damns’ and ‘wows,’ rang out before Bob politely asked, “Are you going to try for the Tokyo team?”

“Yup,” they exhaled with a nervous chuckle at the end. “It’s gonna be tough I feel with how these past couple seasons have been, but I’m hoping for one final Olympics. It will be my last chance at gold—Individual gold,” they corrected before anyone could comment.

“You’re gonna retire?” Fanboy tilted his head, a little saddened at the thought. Throughout the night he had been on his phone watching replays of Y/n’s meets including their Olympic and World Championship runs. He tried not to react when he watched the 2016 400m semifinals. Now the thought of them retiring felt like a loss to the sport. It was like how he felt when Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt retired.

“Maybe not fully,” Y/n gave a small smile. “I might do one last season and a Worlds, but I don’t think I’m gonna go for the Paris Games.”

Payback came over and clapped them on the back, “Well I don’t know about these clowns but you can count on me to cheer you on next year. Hell I might even come to the trials.”

“That’s what I did in ‘16,” Phoenix cut in with a smile. “It was amazing and I’ll be in the stands again. Already planning to take time off to be there.” Y/n felt the warmth and gratitude swarm in them, “Thanks, Phee.”

What should have been three weeks of special combat training turned out to be two. The pressure was on with Y/n pushing their limit harder than ever—even exceeded that of their comeback. Never had the F-18 they’d become accustomed to flying feel like a stranger. Maverick was like their coach and Y/n made it their own personal goal to prove to him they had what it took to fly the mission.

At one point Y/n nearly pulled out as a candidate. When the details of the assignment were brought into light Y/n had to think hard about what they were doing. It was not going to be an easy mission. Not by a long shot. Ending badly was a great possibility compared to actually pulling it off. Their life was on the line.

What if they died? What if they got injured to the point they would have to medically retire? Decades of training for the Olympics would end if something horrible happened. Y/n had three to their name, an honor not everyone gets to have, but there was their chance at redemption after 2016 was now on the line.

In the end 6 of the 13 candidates were chosen and although Y/n felt a little saddened they were not chosen, there was a sense of relief. They were put on reserves and boarded the carrier for a long week ahead of them. When it was time to send off their teammates, Y/n pulled them each into a hug, letting it linger on Nat and making her promise to come back. “If worse comes to worse, L/n,” Payback said, “You better win the gold in our honor.” There were mutters of agreement from the others.

“How about you focus on coming back so you can watch me win it in your honor.”

They fulfilled the promise, because now here they were in The Hard Deck about to watch Y/n attempt to keep their side of the bargain. It was 5:15 am on Friday August 6th, 2021. The second to last day of the Games of the XXXII Olympiad held in Tokyo, Japan. And it was the finals of the 400m sprint.

Just a couple months ago in June several members of the squad including Phoenix, Payback, Rooster, Hangman, & Bob met up in Eugene, Oregon to attend the trials for the U.S Olympic Track & Field Team. Following covid precautions they wore their masks and stayed together in their own little group literally competing themselves on who could cheer the loudest. It was a bittersweet moment watching their friend and former teammate secure their place in their fourth and final Olympics. Hangman and Phoenix nearly shed a tear, the former consumed with emotion as they looked on proud at their partner waving to the crowd. Their romance was a surprise, but after the two met to catch up in March of 2020, they ended up having to go thorough lockdown together.

And well…..forced proximity can do wonders when you’re attracted to someone.

Jake wished he could be in Tokyo with Y/n, but even though it had been over a year since the virus broke out and sanctions were being uplifted there were still regulations set in stone for the Olympics. The entire event was postponed a whole year, but was still referred to as the 2020 Olympics despite being 2021. Only the athletes and coaches, which were limited to only one, were allowed to travel. Leading up to the Games, Penny had issued a vaccination verification and made the mask policy optional for those who had been fully vaccinated. She even went as far as making a limit for attendees during the week of the track and field events and had people reserve a spot in advance. She even set up screens outside for people to keep space in the building.

It was still a pretty full house and it was buzzing with excitement as it had been the whole week. Many were regulars who came every night to watch the heats, semifinals, and finals of many events but mostly people were there to watch their very own Top Gun alumni Y/n L/n. Even their parents were there—flying to San Diego to be a part of the watch party. They were already filled with nerves, Y/n’s mother was very upset she couldn’t be there in Tokyo with her child. If they won the gold it would be a bittersweet moment since her parents wouldn’t be there to celebrate in person until they returned home.

It was already a successful Games for the Olympian. The week before Y/n won the bronze in the 100m dash and 4x400 mixed relay and reclaimed the silver in the 200m. The place erupted in cheers each time with the dagger squad being the loudest. It would increase whenever the camera panned to Y/n, who was in obvious joy at racking more medals to their Olympic collection.

But now the pressure was on with one final individual event.

The 400m sprint.

Their signature event with two medals and several titles to their name.

One final shot at gold.

There would still be the relays, in which the final for the 4x100m would take place an hour after the 400m final and then the 4x400m the following night, but Y/n becoming an Olympic champion for an individual event would happen in less than fifteen minutes. The program flipped between other events while in prep for the race, often showing Y/n in the tunnel as they awaited the announcement of the finalists.

At around 5:20 all eyes were glued to the screen with someone yelling, “Turn it up!’ when the sportscasters appeared to be talking about Y/n. The pilots all had the same expression, wincing when they replayed the footage of the 2016 semifinals.

“I think we can all agree we are looking forward to this race, right Steph?”

“That’s right, John. You know, all eyes have been on Y/n L/n these Games. They have already had a great run with three medals, two bronze and a silver with three more events to go. They have quite the Olympic career since their debut in 2008 at the age of eighteen. They came up forth in the 200m in Beijing and walked away with the bronze medal in the 400m,” below the commentator was Y/n’s Olympic statistics. “Then they had a spectacular run in London where we saw them on the podium in each of their events. Silver medals in the sprints and It was their start off the blocks in the 4x100m relay that I believe is what secured the Americans the gold.”

“I agree, Steph. I can still recall that race and the emotions I felt. L/n had an amazing post-Olympic run after London—totally dominating the 2013 & 2014 seasons. Let’s not forget they were one of the top athletes in the NCAA’s during their time at Vanderbilt. I definitely believe it would have continued into 2015 if they hadn’t pulled out, but they still were the leading contender for the Rio Games. It was the height of the career I feel.” The screen was now split to showcase footage of Y/n’s 2013 & 2014 Worlds. Then it showed the heats and semifinals of Rio.

“Totally, John, they dominated the trials that year. They very well could have left Rio with more medals—quite possibly a gold in 400m which is their signature event. Everytime I rewatch the semifinals I almost have to look away at the final turn.”

“I know, it was an unfortunate incident that ended Y/n’s Olympics before they could really start. We almost didn’t know if we would even see them here in Tokyo, but after a spectacular comeback at the 2019 World Championships in Qatar, I had very high hopes we would get to this moment.”

“Me too, John, the pressure is on for the 31-year-old, let’s see if they can deliver,” the commentator turns to look at the camera with Y/n’s picture beside her, “Well it’s almost time for the 400m and it looks they are about to announce the finalists so we are going to have our crew in the stadium takeover our coverage. We will see you back here in the studio after the race and be sure to stick around because the night won’t be over for the four-time Olympian. Y/n is set to be one the four of today’s 4x100m relay final and tomorrow’s 4x400m relay.”

The screen switched to reveal the stadium, specifically the entrance tunnel where a projection would show the name and nation of the finalists. Y/n had taken the top spot in their heat and the semifinal so they would get the fourth lane on the track.

“Here we go!” Someone in the Hard Deck clapped, causing a few more people to follow. The cheers heightened when the American flag appeared above the name Y/n L/n.

First the announcement was in Japanese, then the English translator spoke through the stadium “In Lane Four, representing the United States of America, Y/n L/n!” With a shy smile, Y/n appeared from the side and walked until they were directly beneath their name. Then they turned to the camera and gave a wave followed by blowing a kiss to the screen and lastly throwing a peace sign. It must have been a little awkward without a packed stadium like the previous Games. Only a small section was filled with locals and the coaches of the athletes.

“That’s my best friend!” Nat yelled over the cheers. Several others followed the pilot, “Let’s go, Y/n!” “Bring it home!” “One last time, baby, let’s go!”

The remaining finalists were announced and took their place behind the starting blocks. When the camera panned to Y/n, their eyes were closed in a silent prayer.

“Take your mark.”

Their eyes snapped open with a shaky breath, feet carrying them to the starting blocks. Y/n did a ritual stretch down, tapping the tops of their toes with their hands before bending down to place their feet in the right position. Glancing up to the sky, Y/n said in their head, “please, give me this one moment.” Tucking their chin into their chest, Y/n waiting with anticipation like everyone else in the world watching.

It was like time slowed. “Set.” Their knees lifted off the track.

*Pop* the sound of the gun and Y/n catapulted off the blocks. Their eyes never faltered as they ahead at the track and let their legs do the work. In their peripheral they saw their opponents, the space between them slowly decreasing by the second as they pulled into the final stretch. Coming around the corner there was no one in Y/n’s sight. The finish line drew closer. Y/n didn’t know if they were in the lead by a long shot or if it was only a nanosecond.

Their heart pounded in their chest, sweat dripping from their forehead. Heaved breaths left their mouth and Y/n could feel her bad knee start to burn. But they pushed and they pushed.

All Y/n knew as they crossed the finish line was the world record flashed and their eyes snapped to the board which resulted in them screaming. As the announcer yelled through the coms, “WORLD RECORD!!” Y/n fell to their knees in tears.

#1 Y/N L/N—USA 47.50 (WR, OR)

Below their name were spots 2-8. And not only did Y/n just take the gold in their last individual event, but they also broke the World and Olympic records. Records that had been set for decades.

When Y/n finally lifted their head they were met with beaming faces of their competitors. They all congratulated the athlete, some hugging and patting their back. The world record sign was still flashing and Y/n felt another wave of emotion. This time they ran to their coach, aware the cameraman was keeping up with them to get a close look for the viewers at home.

Y/n could only imagine what it was like in Fightertown.

The second the athletes were lining up, Coyote yelled, “Everybody shut up!!” Silence filled the building, everyone’s focus on their respected screen. “Set.” *Pop* The racers were off and the commentators were already speaking frantically. “Great start off the blocks for L/n, coming around on the first turn neck and neck with the athlete from the Bahamas. Jamaica and Great Britain are not too far as they take on the long stretch of the track.”

“Go! Go!” People started to scream. Bob was biting his nails, Rooster was gripping his beer bottle. Hangman and Coyote were already off of their seats, “C’mon, Y/n! You got this!” It got louder as they approached the final turn.

“L/n is starting to pull a lead as they come up the turn, but the Bahamas are right there—this was the moment L/n’s Olympic dreams were shattered in Rio—O-oh! L/n has overtaken the Bahamas—they’ve got a huge gap as they pull into the final stretch! Oh my God we could be witnessing history—L/n is .10ths of a second ahead of the World Record and increasing their lead ahead of the others by an outstanding margin!”

“Let’s go!!!” The commentators' words were barely there as it competed with the uproar of spectators in the Hard Deck. Everyone was pretty much out of their seats and jumping as they watched Y/n’s lead increase with each step to the finish line. “You’re almost there!! Go! Go! Go!”

Then it exploded.

“THEY’VE DONE IT! Y/N L/n has won the gold for America!! They smashed the Olympic record and set the World record for the 400m dash by .10 of a second at these Olympic Games in Tokyo!”

“OH MY GOD!!!” Phoenix and several others screamed. She and Halo embraced in a hug with Nat covering her mouth to hold back her emotion when the screen showed Y/n screaming out to the sky before falling to their knees. The guys were all jumping around, Rooster and Payback embraced in a side hug, pulling Jake who was pretty much in tears as he watched the display of his partner.

“After heartbreak four years ago in Rio that put them out of a chance for the gold, Y/n L/n has come out on top in Tokyo. They can finally add Olympic Champion to their name as well as Olympic and World record holder of the 400m dash. In what could be the last time we see Y/n L/n in an Olympic Games, they have achieved what they set out to do since their debut in Beijing 13 years ago. What a stunning finish to a beautiful Olympic career in the sport of track and field.”

Y/n’s parents were clenched in each other’s arms, eyes rimmed as their own tears poured. They were filled with so much happiness for their child and wished nothing more to be in the crowd and share this moment with them. At the bar top Warlock, Hondo, and Maverick were high-fiving while Cyclone clapped along with a smile. Penny rang the bell simply to join the cheers.

It was truly spectacular to witness. The slow motion replay was on the screen followed by the Y/n’s reaction when they looked up to find their name on the board. The cheers kept going and only started to quiet down when TV showed the athlete in their post race interview. “Y/n, what a night here tonight. Congratulations are in store, you have not only taken an individual gold but also the World record—and the Olympic record! It’s your fourth medal in these Games, the first gold—how are you feeling right now after this victory?”

Everyone hushed to listen, but were grinning wide and some were wiping away tears. Y/n’s face was flushed, still coming off of the high of what had just happened. “O-oh I can’t even put it into words how I’m feeling right now,” there was a slight sniff, Y/n using their finger to wipe their face but was careful not to let the material of the American flag draped around their shoulders touch their skin.

“This is a dream come true. It has been a long journey to get here and I-I am so honored to have been a part of this team for as long as I have. You know after the 100 & 200 I didn’t want to have my hopes too high because as you can see anything can happen in these Games,” Y/n chuckled, eyes glossy, “I think I may have actually blacked out on the last stretch. I just kept my focus on the finish line and was just as amazed to see I had broken the records.”

The title card on the screen now showed: Y/n L/n, Gold Medalist, 400m (WR, OR: 47.50).

“Your friends and family have all gathered in San Diego—they’re watching right now and we actually got footage of their reaction to your win tonight. We’d love to show you if you like.”

“Oh God please,” Y/n was already giggling. The assistant brought over an ipad with a video and pressed play. On the tv screens the image split to show the video beside Y/n’s face to capture their own reaction. They saw the daggers squad in front of the bar while their superiors including Maverick were seated at the bar top. They were all surrounded by servicemen and women as well as civilians. Y/n teared up when they spotted their parents near Jake. By the end of it Y/n was basically crying while laughing. “Oh my God, that is amazing. I wish they could’ve been in the stands. I know my parents are probably thinking how the one time they can’t see me compete in person is when I win.”

The reporter laughed along with them. “I know I gotta let you go cause you’re set to race the relay in less than an hour and the podium ceremony is about to start, but before you go I just want to ask if this is the last time we’ll see you after these Games conclude Sunday night.”

Y/n softly smiled to the reporter, bottom lip slightly trembling, “uhh, you know I wasn’t completely sure. Since Rio I’ve had some troubles with my knee after the torn ACL—I almost wasn’t sure about these Games until 2018. I’ve been talking to Allison Felix these past couple days, since this is gonna be her last Games. Her and I have been part of Team USA for 13 years now and she’s become not only a mentor but a friend to me and i’m going to miss seeing her at competitions. I know I plan to do the 2022 season—especially the Worlds. Paris is only three-years away,” they shrugged, like they were considering it, “I’ll be thirty-four when it comes around so it’s really gonna come down to how I’m feeling after 2022.”

“Well I hope to see you again in Paris, but if not then it was truly a pleasure watching you these years. You’ve been an inspiration to many watching back home in the States. Congratulations again on this win and we can’t wait to see you bring it in the relays. Good luck again tonight.”

“Thank you so so much. I appreciate it and much love to everyone back home—thank you for all the support, especially my mom and dad, my coach, and my friends in Fightertown who I know are probably losing their minds. I love you all and I couldn't have got this gold without each and every one of you. Thank you,” Y/n shakes their hand and blows a kiss to the camera before following the volunteer to locker rooms to change for the podium ceremony.

Just like in London, Y/n was nearly a mess on the podium when the gold medal was presented to them. Per covid regulations, the athlete had to place it around their own neck instead of how it was at previous games with someone else doing the honor. Still, it held everything to Y/n.

They were an Olympic champion.

Tears streaked their face when the national anthem played and when it concluded Y/n kissed the medal and waved to the crowd of spectators that included the media and athletes from other countries. The rest of Team USA’s track athletes were there too, cheering the loudest as some of them have been Y/n’s teammates for over a decade. After pictures with the other medalists Y/n was rushed to get ready for the relay that was to start in 20 minutes. At the Hard Deck it was an emotional scene watching the podium ceremony. Jake and Nat were embraced, looking on with glossy eyes while everyone beamed at the screen. Y/n’s parents were with them too. It was bittersweet.

20 minutes later they were in cheers once again when Team USA took the silver in the 4x100m relay. Y/n kick started it off like they did in London, but this time fell short to second place by a smudge. It still was a celebration with Y/n adding another silver medal to their personal Tokyo medal count. It was passed one in the morning in Tokyo when Y/n FaceTimed Jake after the podium ceremony. They were met with shouts of joy from everyone in proximity that it was hard to even make out the individual voices.

“You fucking did it!!”

“Congratulations, Lightning McQueen, you were amazing!”

“Holy shit, Olympic gold!”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Y/n. I wish I could hug you right now.”

The call was brief but wholesome with Y/n thanking the entire squad for their support and they loved watching their reaction to the race. Jake spoke on behalf of the others with the promise to celebrate the second Y/n returned to San Diego in three days. After goodbyes and a quick chat with their parents, Y/n ended the call to get much needed sleep for their final race the next day. The Hard Deck cleared out soon after with many calling it a day.

It was the same scene the next morning at 5:30 am to watch the final of the 4x400m relay. “It is the final day in these Olympic Games after a spectacular two weeks in Tokyo. Many firsts have been made. There are just a few events to get through tonight before closing ceremonies tomorrow evening. All eyes are now on the finals of the 4x400m relay. And boy is there a lineup tonight with the Americans looking to defend with a seventh-straight title.”

“It’s going to be an interesting finals tonight, Mark. Like you mentioned, the US have retained the title of Olympic champions in this event since the 1996 Games in Atlanta. They are unstoppable and this is the first time Y/n L/n is part of the group. They won the gold in London for the 4x100 and just last night took silver in the event. Four years ago in Rio they were set to be on both the 4x100 and 4x400, but after a tragic semi finals that ended with a torn ACL, L/n had to pull out of Games.”

On the screen the team was announced with all four athletes appearing from the side. Together they did a little dance for the cameras before going to the track. “I’m interested to see how L/n does tonight and if they can pull through. This event is truly a team effort and unlike last night, L/n is set to anchor the Americans in the final pass rather than starting. They just won the gold in the 400m last night in a stunning record breaking finish—I’m still in disbelief.”

The Hard Deck painted a familiar picture as the previous morning. The Daggers were on the edge of their seats when the race started and Penny stopped taking orders when the third pass began. The camera was split to show Y/n taking their spot on the track to await the baton. Then the screen went back to one when the American came up on the last turn. “Here comes the final pass of the bottom in the final leg of this 4x400 relay. Poland and Jamaica are not far behind, but the Americans have given Y/n L/n a lead—and there they go! Beautiful pass from teammate to teammate and Y/n L/n is off to hopefully bring the US their seventh consecutive gold.”

“C’mon, baby, let’s go!!” Jake yelled, the others echoing his cheers. At the bar patrons were clapping the surface.

“They’re gonna get it—look at the lead!”

“It’s not over yet.”

“Let’s go, Y/n, you’re almost there!” The athlete increased the distance between them and the polish on the stretch coming into the final turn. The cheers got louder and louder with many already celebrating when it was obvious the Polish were not gonna catch up. The announcers knew it too.

“Poland has overtaken Jamaica but it will not be enough for Olympic glory—Y/n L/n has increased the margin their teammates had given them and has no doubt secured them the gold! All there is left to do is cross the finish line and the Americans have done it again! L/n has finished the job and given Team USA their seventh straight gold medal in the 4x400m relay!!” The last line was in tune with Y/n crossing the finish line. A large smile plastered on their face as a cry of joy left them that the camera managed to capture. Their teammates met them in the middle with the four embracing in cheers.

The Hard Deck exploded again when Y/n crossed the finish line, matching their reaction as though they were the ones who just won the gold for their country. They couldn’t wait for Tuesday when Y/n came home and they could celebrate the big wins together. Jake was really excited especially after having a heart-to-heart with Y/n’s father. The ring was safely tucked away in his suitcase as a reminder of what he had planned for his Olympian.

The rest of the daggers, including Mav and Hondo ended up staying an extra hour after the podium ceremony to celebrate their friend. Many were still in disbelief, but filled with absolute joy. Who wouldn’t really? They had just witnessed their friend win their sixth medal in a single Olympics. Something uncommon for even athletes who qualify for multiple events.

But Y/n did it.

They left Tokyo with two bronze, two silver, and two gold. In four Olympics Y/n started from a single bronze in their debut to their first team gold in London, leaving with nothing in Rio to finally medaling in every event they raced in Tokyo. Their first individual gold after thirteen years of hard work and dedication to rise to the top since they sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium.

It was a golden end to an Olympic dream 25 years in the making.

Or so they thought…..

When the stars painted Paris on the night of August 11th, 2024, the final night of the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, Y/n L/n waved to the crowd in a bittersweet goodbye as they wore the Stars and Stripes one final time. It was hard to hear over the roar of spectators from all over the world. Not a single seat had been empty for the final race of Y/n L/n’s career. Athletes from other disciplines attended, some in tears by the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

“It is an emotional scene here tonight in the Stade de France as we say goodbye to Y/n L/n of the United States. There isn’t a dry eye in sight as spectators and athletes from around the globe watch the five-time Olympian take their final bow after winning the gold with the Americans in the 4x400m relay in their eighth consecutive title. In what could be described as the greatest Olympic run a track athlete has ever done, Y/n L/n has achieved the impossible in Paris with six gold medals in six events. Never has an Olympian taken the gold in the 100, 200, 400m, and all three team relays in a single Olympics, but Y/n L/n has made history. They are also the second Olympian and only American to win gold in the 100, 200, and 400m in a single Olympic Games.”

Y/n walked the track with a cameraman following them, hand that was not waving patting their chest where their heart laid. The hand now had a gold wedding band and Tokyo XXXII and Paris XXXIII added to the bicep tattoo. Y/n’s teammates that they just won the gold with had stood to the side, clapping with the crowd with American flags draped around their shoulder and tears cascading their cheeks.

Y/n finally made it to the section where the majority of Americans who had traveled from the States were seated in a sea of red, white, and blue. Y/e/c went straight to the front few rows and were immediately met with the sight of not only their parents beaming faces, but the ones of their closest friends. None of them were hiding their emotion. Phoenix was embraced by Rooster, the two wiping away at their faces as was Bob. Fanboy and Coyote were teary eyed while Payback just nodded with a bright grin, bringing his fingers up to whistle. Even Maverick, who was now retired from the Navy, was in attendance looking like a proud father.

And Jake? Jake was a mess.

His green eyes were pretty much bloodshot but there was love and admiration in his gaze. His own wedding band reflected under the stadium lights and he made the motion of catching the kiss Y/n blew to him before placing it on his heart. All he wanted to do was jump over the railing and hug his spouse, but unfortunately that would have to wait until after the podium ceremony.

The extinguishing of the Olympic torch at the closing ceremonies would signal the start of Y/n’s retirement from the world of athletics. It would close one chapter, but the other was still in progress. There was still time for them to be the best of the best in terms of naval aviators. They were not even halfway into their Naval career.

And they were totally up for the challenge, because nothing is impossible when going for the gold.

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soranihimawari · 10 months

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I Missed You

Pairing: Oikawa x (gn!) reader

Word Count: tbd

Rating: Oikawa Tooru Fluff [otf]

Warnings: none// reader in timeskip becomes a doctor specializing in aging/older athletes and completing necessary check-ups before a match.

Note: I tried to not tie any gender-specific nouns when describing reader.

How I think OIkawa & reader hug each other after not seeing each other in a long time.

[23:45]

That’s the time stamp you receive on an old friend’s text. There are only three words which the message is comprised of. When you read them aloud to yourself in the comfort of your own home, you seem to repeat them like a mantra.

‘I miss you’

Simple hope draws from this in a way that can’t be described as you stare at your screen until you ultimately lock your phone. You close your eyes for a a few minutes when your brain decides to show you a highlight reel of the activities you used to do with the sender. Learning the rules of volleyball, joining in their team jogging paths, coming to scheduled matches, accompanying him to the nurse’s office when he landed on his feet wrong, etc. He was destined to be famous, just not here at home in Japan, no. Somewhere half a world away called out to him first. Argentina was distant, far, the most you’d ever be separated and even then, the times prior were literally at the start of up schooling lives.

Unfortunately, the last memory behind the closed eyes you see is a bittersweet one: the reality your friend, confidant, (and crush) hits you. You never did want to wind up fighting with him, but for once you’d want him to fight to stay here. With you. As his best friends remind you, you’d be holding him back from his true potential ever since he started practicing with the collegiate teams up the road from where you live—this was where the initial rift began to be drawn between you two.

During lunch one day, you visit his classroom, sitting next to him explaining (or rather complaining) the trouble you were having with a particular class and one of the assignments needed to be completed prior to a content exam.

“Do you ever shut up about schoolwork, yn?”

You pause, a disappointed look heavy on your brow as those within earshot suddenly fall quiet.

“I’m sorry not all of us have a righteous path carved in front of us, Tooru,” the tonality in your voice was one of annoyance. “Some of us have to work even harder to achieve our dreams other than hoping to skip town and follow in their idol’s footsteps.”

Ever since that brief conversation, you and one Oikawa Tooru, are now practically strangers come graduation day. You hear whispers via the third year rumor mill of his accomplishments and his ultimate defeat against both Shiratorizawa and Karasuno. Matches you weren’t there to show your support for, even if Iwazumi Hajime, the ace and vice captain, had invited you because, “it would be nice for him (oikawa) to see a familiar face in the crowd.”

Glancing back at Iwazumi’s moss green eyes and stoic countenance, “and if I recall, it would be nicer if I wasn’t there because it might distract him further. There are plenty of scouts heading to those matches. I’m sure he’d catch one of their eyes.”

“And if those scouts ask him to move to another country, are you really going to be ok with not saying your goodbyes when we graduate, yn?”

You aggravatedly sigh at him, muttering an annoyed, “Yes, Iwazumi-kun, even then.”

Many months later, post Oikawa's jog in the winter while watching the Karasuno v Inarizaki match, it is now springtime. You’re holding a bouquet of flowers from your parents who pose with you for pictures around the inner school gates of Aoba Josai’s campus. Your fellow classmates and club members surround you for more photos as well. This was going to be one of the final memories you have for your high school career. You were accepted into a university specializing in biomedical engineering with a strong focus on exercise science.

This was your dream, not necessarily the same path as Iwazumi’s to become an athletic trainer, no, however you had wanted to be a doctor whose focus would help restore and maintain older athlete’s bodies even post retirement. Helping those who had maybe one or two career setbacks was something which had captivated you the more you began to focus on the life sciences of your high school careers and with the help of those teachers, they had written for you a brilliant recommendations to boost your acceptance after passing the various university exams.

[13:43]

In your office nearly a decade later from high school graduation, sits your newest patient. He comes from Argentina, like your nurses tell you, but the rumor that he had come on a friend's recommendation is what actually piques your interest. Well, to be fair, two of your friends' personal recommendation are what causes you to raise your eyebrow. The nurse on duty that day takes his vitals as normal, asks him the routine questions before giving him the proper spiel of, "sit tight and the doctor will see you in a few minutes."

Oikawa Tooru has come home for several reasons. The only one on the top of his list is coming home for an exhibition match game he was invited to by the former captain of Nekoma and now representative of the JVA. However, when word reaches Iwazumi's camp in the national team's gym, he smirks, sending a text halfway across the world. Your name is thrown into the mix of doctors who are willing to examine older, closer to retirement age, athletes. Considering this was not how he had wanted to spend his second day back in his home country, Oikawa Tooru asks to book this appointment to get an all clear before playing the V-League exhibition match Kuroo talked him into attending.

You are reading over the file of the new patient outside of the room in the hallway. You scan over the various ticks he had made on the questionnaire along with your nurse who says that his young son looks up to Oikawa-san as a professional volleyball player.

"Repeat that one more time, Sato-san," you clear your throat when Sato-san repeats what he had said earlier.

"My son is as huge fan of Oikawa-san," he points to the name at the top of the document in your hand.

Right there, next to Sato-san, the nurse's pointer finger, is the kanji of the name of a person you thought about since your high school, university, and medical school graduation days. You clear your throat, thanking Sato for his time measuring the vitals of the next patient in the room you're about to enter.

"No prob doc," is all Sato says when he walks back to the nurse station leaving you to enter the examination room where an old flame sits.

You take a deep breath prior to knocking and entering. You open the door and you see OIkawa bent over on the examination bed, reading something on his phone. His hair is cropped shorter, his shoulders are a bit broader, his skin a bit tanner, and for lack of better words, his muscles quite filled out the rest of him. He's still humming a tune you're unfamiliar with until your shoes enters his field of vision.

"Hello Tooru," your voice causes him to freeze and immediately causes his eyes to avert away from his phone. "It's been a while."

Oikawa's coffee-colored eyes study your face and the recognition hits him like a truck. Although he is dressed in a sky blue buttoned blouse and dark jeans compared to your teal scrubs and white lab coat, he stands up, arms extended to crush you in a hug. His patient file falls to the floor when you hug him back.

You hear him for the first time since that argument long ago, voice wobbly and all, "I missed you."

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #an hq: timeskip story #soft sora hours: ft oikawa tooru #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora scribbles 2023

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 7 months

Text

Jackass in Japan!

Y/N is flown out to Japan with the Jackass cast to help keep them in line while filming Jackass: The Movie. Unfortunately, nothing goes as they plan.

Johnny Knoxville X Gn!Reader

(Fluff)

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, crude language, alcohol, implied drug use, implied sexual content, improper use of sex toys, cross dressing, fights, vomiting, urine, nudity

4.7K Words

An: Aaa more manager Y/N!! I know I wrote it a lot but I LOVE the dynamic they have with the guys (especially Johnny!!) A few of my friends actually took a trip to Japan not too long ago, so this was partially inspired by that! Also apologies from deviating from my usual update schedule! This fic is just SO GIANT at least by my standards!! Anyways thank you for all the requests and please keep sending them in!! I love reading them and I love writing them even more! XD

As a country of etiquette, social subtleties, and rich culture, Japan probably wouldn’t be your first destination to fly the guys out to film in. Maybe a chain restaurant play place would be better- no sharp objects and everything made of plastic and easily sanitizable. You begged Jeff to cut you some slack just this one time, but after a totally sincere and completely not bullshitted speech on his behalf about how ‘integral’ you are to the team, you agreed to come along to babysit- make sure none of them run off to far.

Three hours deep into the flight to Japan and Steve hadn’t stopped bouncing his knee since takeoff. Somewhere between annoyed and concerned, you decided to find out what the hell was the matter and peered through the gap in the seat in front of you.

“Hey. Hey, hey dude! Dude, we should get- like, some of those tiny liquor bottles, right? Like, the kind they got on planes?” Steve waved his hands wildly as he rambled to Chris, staring at him with dinner plate wide eyes. In contrast, Pontius didn’t even look at him, drifting between sleep and consciousness, “Oh? Oh, yeah. Sure.” You knew Jeff warned you about this, but the results of Chris’ tendency to mix sleeping pills with red wine could be managed by bringing him an extra pair of pants. What you couldn’t seem to reign in, though, was the hummingbird buzzing next to him.

Snapping you out of your little bird watching trance, Steve whipped his head around to you, staring back through the gap about an inch from your face with a grin a mile wide, “Y/N! Y/N! Hey! Think y’could grab me some’a those?” He jabbed a finger at Ryan’s tray table, sticky and littered with at least twenty multicolored little bottles of liquor- some full, some empty, and some half drank as Ryan leaned his forehead against the seat in front of him in a drunken stupor. Steve’s restless fingers thrummed against the leather headrest he rested them on, unable to sit still.

You debated for a moment whether you could swipe one while he was busy working on the one in his hand, but before you could do anything your attention was torn by the retching noises you heard next to you. Johnny was folded into the seat next to you, his long legs awkwardly zig zagged under the seat in front of you as he clutched onto his paper airsickness bag for dear life. Of course, Steve found it hilarious because, for once, it wasn’t him throwing up, “Haha! Knoxville’s yackin!” Johnny leaned over, nearly on top of you as he tried to stabilize himself. God, he was heavy. Glaring at Steve with hazy loathing, he clutched the vomit filled bag up with wordless intent- the kind of intent you really didn’t want to be seated in the front row for.

The threat worked and you watched Steve shrink back in his seat as Johnny fell back against the barely padded leather, his complexion more akin to a boiled egg than anything human. You felt a little bad for the guy, even though just a second before he was smothering you in his chest. Oh, and great timing- here comes the stewardess, with her pretty high heels and her cart full of sodas and tiny liquors and little bags of peanuts. Steve hailed her like a cab and, after finishing his stuttery, incomprehensible rant that she just smiled and nodded at, she stopped next to Ryan, tapping him on the shoulder with a perfectly manicured nail. “Excuse me, sir? Can I help you with those?” He blinked his eyes open slowly, glancing around him, only just seeming to notice the sea of plastic in front of him. “Oh…Yeah.” And in one fell sweep of his arm, he brushed the pile of bottles into the trash can attached to the cart she was pushing, a handful of bottles clattering to the ground. Bending down to grab one, he held a yellow plastic bottle up, blinking behind his sunglasses, “Can I get some more of these too?” She nodded. Glancing over to Johnny, you saw his complexion get a little greener. You added to Ryan’s request, “And can we get some more of those bags, please?”

Somewhere in the 20 hour flight, you ended up falling asleep on Johnny’s muscular shoulder, which would have been kind of a sweet moment if it wasn’t for him stirring you every now and then with his gagging. While you were fading back asleep in between one bout of vomiting and another, you felt Bam squeeze past your knees as he got up to use the bathroom. Thinking nothing of it, your eyes remained closed until you heard rolling plastic and you felt the smack of his head hitting your knees. “Motherfucker!” He rubbed the back of his head, looking up at Ryan with dazed rage in his eyes, “Pick up your goddamn bottles!” Ryan couldn’t seem to care less as Bam scrounged on the ground, grabbing one of the mini bottles and hucking it at his head, missing by about six inches.

You rubbed Johnny’s back as everyone waited for him to finish hurling the rest of his guts into a trash can. Stumbling back to you, he wiped his mouth, “Okay, okay- that’s it.” The gate was pretty crowded and you really had to keep an eye on everyone. Sighing in exasperation, you wondered how you were going to corral these idiots all the way to the train station, much less the hotel. “Okay, everybody!” You clapped your hands, getting their attention before making a fist at your side, mimicking holding something, “Grab onto the invisible rope!” It was a trick preschool teachers used when kids didn’t want to hold each other's hands when they went somewhere. Sure, on one hand, you were dealing with fully grown men, but on the other hand they were very tired, somewhat intoxicated men, so equal odds.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid.” Bam grumbled, “Invisible rope my ass…” He turned back around snidely to Ryan who followed behind him, “Who do they think they are? Jeff?” Raising his eyebrows and still half plastered, Ryan glanced at Bam’s clutched hand, “And I see you’re still holding the invisible rope…?”

As you sat down on the train, you finally had a moment to relax. It was around sunset now, and the windows of the train car glowed golden as the automatic doors slid shut, the entire car completely silent. Jeff had the guys under control, you told yourself, he keeps them on a short leash. You deserve a nap. Reclining against the plastic seat, your eyes fluttered shut for just a moment- just a second, a flap of a butterfly’s wings.

And when your ears perked up to the sound of snickering you realized just how wrong you were in assuming Jeff would cover your ass. A small crowd formed around Pontius who had passed out, the giant piss stain on his pants front and center for any of the horrified witnesses as the guys artfully graffitied every inch of his now shirtless body. Among these, a comically large penis pointed to his mouth and “I ♡ YAKUZA” was scrawled across his back in sharpie. People whispered and looked on at the scene in dismay while you panicked and did your best with damage control.

By the time you got to your stop, Chris looked like a public bathroom stall, and frankly smelled like one too. The only thing you could do was hand him his discarded shirt he threw off when you got on as everyone was rushing to get up and leave, but he shook his head, very clearly still high and looking around like he’d never seen your face before. He slurred his words, “C’mon, Y/N. Who wouldn't want to see this hyper-masculine, Adonis-like physique?” Instead of heeding your insistence, Pontius took this as an opportunity to flex his admittedly impressive muscles at you. You tried your best to reason with him, putting on your happiest, most super nicest voice ever in desperation, “Oh, of course! But listen, it’s really cold out right now, and you can’t be catching a cold before filming tomorrow, right?”

He seemed to take a moment to process what you were saying before nodding a little. By then, it was just you and him on the train and people were starting to board. You didn’t have a lot of time, but the plan was working, “That’s right! So can you put this on?” It was like trying to reason with a five year old. But sure enough, after a few slow blinks, he wriggled it over his head without an argument. The things you do for a living.

When the group got to the hotel, Jeff got the room keys from the front desk while you grabbed some food from a vending machine, enough to tide you over until the next morning. By that point, everyone was exhausted, sitting in the lobby chairs half asleep, or in Steve and Ryan’s case, fully asleep. It was kinda cute, seeing them all passed out, stretched out on couches or resting heads on each other's shoulders, like the calm little center of their usual chaos.

By the time he came back, nobody questioned the fact that Jeff got only three keys until you were all crowded together in the elevator. Bam was the first to pick up on it, “Hey. Where’s my key?” Jeff leaned against the dimpled metal siding nonchalantly, “Knoxville’s got your key.” Sighing, Bam waved his hand in front of Johnny’s sleep line covered face to wake him up from where he was dozing off standing up, “Dude. Hand it over.”

“What? I only got one key- this is mine.” Drowsily, Johnny pulled the single brass key out of his pocket to prove it, the plastic room number tag dangling from one end. Blinking a couple times, Bam still had enough energy to get pissed, “We- we have one fuckin room?” He continued his fatigued interrogation as they walked down the hall, “Well it’s a suite, right? Right?”

It was not a suite. It wasn’t in the same zip code as a suite. Crowded in the door, the only sounds in the hallway were the slamming of two doors- your’s and Jeff’s. “Huh. Only two beds…” Johnny broke the silence, “That means…this one’s mine!” Making a mad dash, he flung himself at the nearest bed, stumbling over his own feet. Hot on his heels, Bam shoved Ryan out of the way but tripped, rolling to the carpet as he was clamored over by the rest of the guys, sputtering curse words. Far after everyone laid their claim, Steve wandered in, still half asleep. They had forgotten him downstairs. “Oh, hey buddy!” Johnny grinned, “You're gettin’ the couch tonight.” This earned him a sigh of exasperation, “Really? The fuckin couch? Come on dude! Why don’t you get fuckin’ Y/N- they got a room all to themself!” Swinging his long legs off the bed, Johnny chuckled, “Gladly.”

Halfway unpacking, your head turned at the knock at your door. You were caught a little by surprise by the towering man leaning against your door frame as you opened it, staring down at you with that charming glint in his dark eyes. “Knoxville?” His voice was sweet as he looked over you with the ghost of a smile on his face, “You sharin’ with anyone tonight, sweetheart?” You looked back at your one open suitcase and the two beds in the room, then back at him, “No…?” Johnny quirked an eyebrow at you as he leaned down a little closer, his grin growing to show just a sliver more of his teeth, “Would you like some company?”

With a sweet smile and a flutter of your eyelashes, you shut the door in his face. That was for throwing up on you on the plane.

Later that evening, Chris strutted back into the room a few hours after they sent him to go grab food, holding bunches of plastic shopping bags in his hands with pride like a hunter with his first kill of the season. The noise alerted Johnny, getting up from in front of the television, his stomach growling, “God, what took’y so long, Pontius?” Without taking another look, he reached a hand into one of the bags, rummaging through it for something to eat, “Isn’t there a seven eleven across the-”

Bam and Steve peeked into the kitchen at just the perfect time to see Johnny yank the thick, purple object out of the bag as Chris watched, absolutely delighted. Staring at the thick, oblong shape and feeling its weight in his hand, Johnny didn’t know what to do. Almost as an instinct, he threw it. It bounced once on the wooden table before falling perfectly upright, wiggling a little. The sight of a purple dildo swaying gently in the breeze made the room howl with laughter, everyone collapsing against furniture. Once the laughter subsided, they attacked the contents of the bags like wild dogs.

“Holy shit!” With wide eyes, Steve parked himself on the couch and perused one of the many porno mags, completely mystified, “And I thought the chicks in Poland were hot…” Peering over his shoulder, Bam squinted disbelievingly at the four page gatefold that unfurled, “No way- they gotta be fake.” Not taking his eyes off of the glossy pages, Steve shook his head, “Nuh-uh. C’mon, look at that, she’s clearly-“

Slap! The noise reverberated through the room as Steve was suddenly whacked upside the head with a floppy, purple blur. Chris didn’t even have the chance to shout ‘Lombardi!’ before he was on the ground. The ensuing fight and wrestling match was loud enough to tear Johnny’s attention away from the Tenga egg he was trying to blow up like a balloon, but not enough to wake up Ryan who had been sleeping like a baby through this entire ordeal. This wouldn’t be the case for long.

As soon as he wriggled out of his grasp, Pontius went after Johnny. Unlike Steve, however, he had a head start and a chase ensued. Ducking behind chairs, under tables, and in and out of doors, they went around and around. Steve chased Chris who chased Johnny, the room echoing with yelling and whooping and thumping from running into furniture. It was like Scooby Doo. This, in turn, woke up Ryan. In the middle of the commotion, he snatched the dildo from Chris’ hands, ran to the door, and hurdled it down the hallway like a fifty mile an hour fastball, sending it soaring before he slammed the door and trudged back to bed.

You heard something hit the plywood of your door with a thump while you sat in bed, watching tv in a language you didn't understand and pretending you knew what was going on. Part of you was weary to investigate, but your curiosity was overwhelming and you went to check it out anyway. There it was, laying on your doorstep like an abandoned baby on a church stoop. Glance left, glance right- nobody in the hallway. No witnesses. It’s not like anyone would see it if you took it, right? You shrugged. Oh hell, why not?

“Dude- you can’t just leave it out there!” Bam argued with a still half asleep Ryan who had since laid back in bed, “Well, why can't you go get it?” He sighed, conceding and running out of the door. From the hallway a few seconds later, Bam excitedly yelled back, “Guys! The fuckin thing- it’s gone!” Everyone flooded outside to aid in the search, but no dice. Johnny got up from where he was crouched next to a potted plant, “Where the hell’d you throw it, Dunn?”

“I don’t know! The thing probably landed outside the manager’s room!” Glances were shot. Silence.

Morning filtered softly through the windows overlooking Shibuya, illuminating the absolute pigsty the room had become in just one night. Really, it was impressive they could trash a hotel room that fast- they should be in the Guiness book of world records. Blinking his eyes open lazily, Johnny did a double take when he felt a second body pressed against his. It was Steve, wearing a dreamy smile while resting his head against his chest. On his other side was Pontius, not laying on him like a lovesick girlfriend, sure, but instead sporting quite the sheet tent while snoring on the other side of the bed. After getting shoved off, Steve tumbled to the scratchy, unvacuumed carpet, only stirring just slightly, rubbing his head as Johnny threw a flat pillow at him.

After a few minutes of trying to get back to sleep, Johnny reluctantly rolled out of bed to the sound of your insistent knocking at the door. Looking scruffy and disheveled, clad only in the pair of white boxers he slept in that sat just low enough on his hips that you could see a little bit of the hair leading below his waistband as he leaned against the doorframe, looking down with half lidded eyes, his gaze fixed on either you or his manhood. His voice was thick and low, still groggy from the night before, “Mornin’.” A smirk crept onto his face, “Knew you’d come’t your senses.” As much as usually annoyed you with his flirting this time was different. Maybe it was that look behind his eyes that suggested what he wanted or the warmth radiating off of his muscular body, but you had to keep yourself from stumbling over your words as you almost forgot about what you came there to tell him, “Huh? What- no. No! You guys are late! Let’s go!” Leaning to one side, you peered under his arm, looking at the hurricane that hit their room, “Oh my god, how did y-“

“Aaaaah!!” There was a shriek from the far bed that undeniably came from Bam as the covers flew up in a flurry of white sheet. He sounded like April. Frantically scrambling to his feet, he stood wide eyed, with his back pressed against the glass window…ass naked. The entirety of Shibuya was getting mooned by him. Not even worried about exposing himself, he flew into a panicked explanation, jabbing a finger in Ryan’s direction as he barely stirred, still in bed, “Y/N! Y/N- Ryan’s knee was in my ass!”

“All of you! Get up!” You didn’t try to dispute the claim, much less question it as the boys slowly dragged their feet, groggily getting dressed as they stumbled out the door. Herding them like sheep, you followed behind to make sure none of them wandered off or got attacked by wolves, lingering next to Johnny for a little too long as he eyed you. “Have a good night, Y/N?” He couldn’t have known, “Yeah, s’pretty alright.” The grin playing on his lips told you otherwise, “Really? Was it?” There was this knowing insistence in his voice as he got this maniacal little glint in his eyes, continuing, “If last night was a color, would you say it would be…purple?”

Oh, he knew alright.

The shoot went pretty well- you got to spend a day lounging on a beach while Chris and Steve swam with some whale sharks, so you couldn’t complain. They jerked off some sea cucumbers, filled their shorts with live shrimp, and you got a front row seat to the show. Thousands of people were gonna be paying twenty bucks to see this in theaters, and you get this for free. Lucky you!

The problem came, however, later that evening, when Steve gave you a call. You picked up your buzzing flip phone and glanced out at the dark cityscape through your window, knowing whatever he said wouldn’t be good before he even opened his mouth, “What?” From the noises on the other end of the line, it seemed like he was in the midst of an argument of sorts as he spoke over the line, “Hey, bro man dude!” He spoke with the kind of feigned enthusiasm that you only get when someone’s about to tell you something bad, “Do you, like- know how to do makeup?”

Reluctantly, you agreed to help him after he explained the whole situation to you, but you didn’t grapple with what you would actually be getting into until you showed up on the scene. You found them in the dark alley next to some nightclub, crowded around…someone who was making a lot of commotion. As you got a little closer, you saw it was- oh god, it was Bam, completely disillusioned to whatever scheme he was a part of. Chris was trying feebly to apply what looked like lipstick to his lips but he wasn’t getting very far. Noticing you, he stepped back a little, revealing the canvas you would be working with. Leaning against the wall feebly in red plastic heels and a shiny purple spandex dress, Bam looked like the definition of a hot mess. God, they even shaved his legs.

“Shut up! Just get over here!” He could practically read your mind and was clearly impatient, but it was hard to take Bam seriously in that shiny blond wig they put him in. Johnny handed you the shopping bag of makeup they bought as you sighed, twisting open a tube or mascara. You got to work as Johnny awkwardly explained how they were turned away at the door and, thinking the club didn’t want them to turn the place into a sausage fest, they thought the bouncer wanted them to get some chicks. “Unfortunately, the only one of us who speaks the damn language is Steve here- what’d you say to those gals back there?” Johnny elbowed him and you could hear the proud grin in his voice as he said with gusto while, at the same time, also stumbling over his words, “Watashi wa chiisana whinna-o motte imasu!”

“You guys fuckin’ owe me…” Unsteadily swaying on his stilettos, Bam was still shorter than Ryan who had his arm around his shoulders as they walked back around to the club, music thumping so loudly from within that the windows shook. Ryan went to raise his voice to speak to the bouncer, but before he could, he wordlessly lifted the velvet rope and everyone's faces lit up! You were honestly surprised that the plan worked, but, yet again, you knew it could only work so well. Just as Bam got one shiny red foot inside- click! He looked back at you with those scared, wide eyed looks kids get when they get dropped off at preschool for the first time as the bouncer ushered him inside, deserting the rest of you.

“Great fuckin luck…” Steve said what you were all thinking, “What’re we gonna do now?” Scrounging around in your pocket, you grabbed a crumpled up a map as you stopped under a streetlamp to clumsily unfold it and point to a circled location- it was a fancy restaurant that just so happened to have a bar inside.

It was the kind of high class establishment that you walked into and immediately felt out of place in, with lots of hand carved wood and yellowy paper lighting fixtures, where everyone talked in whispers and you weren’t allowed to let your glass make a noise when it hit the table. The five of you took apprehensive seats at the bar, sticking out like a handful of sore thumbs. Not sure what to do, you started up small talk, but you couldn't get more than a few words out to Chris before your attention was stolen away to what was happening at the far end of the bar.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the blur of Steve getting yanked up by the back of his shirt like a kitten at the hands of the burly bartender behind the counter as he angrily shouted at him in Japanese. He dangled for a moment, wearing that deer in the headlights look, before he was unceremoniously tossed out onto the sidewalk outside. Chris, always considerate, was the first to flee, then came Ryan as he finished up his drink.

You held a hand out to Steve, gripping his cut up palm in yours and potentially contracting who knows how many diseases as you helped him to his feet while he ranted, “Dude! I don’t know what the big fuckin deal was- all I asked for was some sucky!” He couldn’t be serious, but the look on his face told you otherwise. Sure, his Japanese earlier was broken, but shit, it wasn't that broken. “Steve- Steve.” It was a challenge to keep a straight face as you tried your very best to clarify, “It’s sake, not sucky.” A look of wide eyed clarity crossed his face before he chuckled, smiling at his own stupidity.

Your desperation that night had led you to this little hole in the wall ramen shop tucked away practically underground. In stark contrast to your previous whereabouts, the ceiling was so low that you needed to duck through the door and the walls were so skinny you needed to shuffle past the counter seats with your back to the wall. But it was quiet and the food was cheap, so you all sat in an exhausted little row in front of the guy who made the food as you slurped your noodles, steam wafting onto your faces.

Swallowing a mouthful, Chris was the first to speak up, glancing out the steamy window at the nightclub across the street, “Hey, s’anyone know where Bam is?” Your chopsticks stilled in your bowl as realization hit you like a freight train. “Oh my god…” You could hear Ryan and Johnny start cracking up as you rubbed the space between your eyes, your head nearly falling into your noodles, “We forgot Bam…” Your one job and you fucked it up. Johnny patted your back like how one would pet a big dog, grinning, “Ah, don’t worry, Y/N! We'll get’im on the way back.”

That was an hour ago, and if you thought he looked rough when you ditched him, you didn’t know how to describe Bam as he hobbled out of the doors on only one heeled foot, his lipstick hopelessly smeared across his cheek as he angrily stuffed his already askew wig into a trash can. It really was kind of funny with how pissed he looked. “Hey, dude! How’d it go in there?” Ryan put his hand up for a high five but just received an exhausted head shake in return, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I…am so drunk.” Putting an arm around him, Ryan nodded, “Okay, buddy.”

By the time you got back to the hotel, everyone was more than ready to pass out on their feet. Everyone, of course, sans whoever was knocking on your door at three in the morning. Looking through the peephole, your suspicions were confirmed as you opened the door, “Knoxville?” The hallway was silent as your eyes trailed up his body, landing on a rare apologetic expression he was wearing. A sorry smile played on his lips as he spoke quietly, “Hey, Y/N. Just wanna say sorry for me’n the guys screwing the night up. Maybe, I dunno- I could come in for a coffee? Nightcap?”

Something in you compelled you not to shut the door, “Sure. I think I’ve gotta few bottles in the mini bar. Come in.” Following you into your comparatively spotless room, Johnny bent down and fished around in the fridge without even asking you. Standing behind him, your eyes fixated on the gold lettering spelling ‘Knoxville’ on his black leather belt as the back of his shirt slid up, exposing about an inch of skin on his lower back, an oddly sensual act you felt simultaneously turned on by and a little guilty for watching. He grabbed four random mini liquor bottles, one in between each finger, and plopped down on top of your sheets. “Grab a few for yourself.” Typical. There were only two left so you grabbed them, taking a seat next to him, both pairs of legs outstretched on the scratchy bedspread as you drank and reminisced about the day you just had by the yellow light of your bedside table lamp.

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