#of weeks. consequently I don't remember what colour anything was/what things looked like in the book rip
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juno! j.b p1
word count: 1.02k
it started with a chair.
the fact that i’m staring at two lines on a stick covered in my pee is because of a chair.
shit.
what am i meant to do now?
“what am i going to do?” i ask my friend through the phone.
“maybe it's just a food baby, what'd you have for lunch yesterday?" she replies, the phone rested on her shoulder as she painted her nails a pastel pink.
"i wish it was a food baby but i've taken three tests and it's showing nothing but two lines" i said sighing.
"wait- how did you produce so much pee?"
"i just drank loads of apple juice - anyway that's beside the point, i'm pregnant"
holy shit.
that feels unbelievable to say, i am pregnant.
"y/n" the voice takes me out of my little daydream.
"yeah" i reply
"who's the father?"
those three words suck me down memory lane.
it was just meant to be two nerdy virgins getting it on and now look at the consequences, of course we couldn't blame society for not telling us to "wrap it before you tap it" because we were forced through the painfully awkward sex ed lessons. we could only blame ourselves for believing the 'pull out method' was a reliable method of contraception. what an idiot.
but i couldn't deny it wasn't one of the best things i had experienced in my life, and that the way he made me feel when i reached the edge was almost mind-blowing, in fact i kept questioning whether or not he was a virgin. he was just that good, it would've been amazing if he didn't have such fast swimmers.
"it's jude's"
jude bellingham or jude victor william bellingham if you're like that. he was one of those guys that you wouldn't notice in a crowd full of men but if you were one of the lucky ones that did then you would be so happy. he was one of those guys that can read you even if you are so careful about not showing any emotion, he will know. i used to joke and say how it was superpower and he would just smile at me with those pearly whites. the same pearly whites that were hidden by his perfectly plump lips, that pulled me in and started the domino effect that led up all the way to now.
my friends laugh reminds me i'm not alone.
"what made you and bellingham bone? i didn't know he was you type"
she wasn't wrong. on any normal day you wouldn't feel such emotions for jude but that day was different, in fact i wanted nothing more than to kiss him until we were left breathless and he made my knees week.
"i don't know just something that happened" i reply a red blush appearing on my face
"you love him!"
"i don't think that's the most important thing to come out of this conversation."
"sorry, but what was he like?"
"he was amazing"
it was true, he was the best thing i've ever experienced.
"what are you going to do?"
"i don't know but i need your help."
jude was a footballer, a good one at that, but his routine was one from hell. he would wake up early, the kind of early that even in the summer mornings, the sun still hasn't rose. that kind of early. when he told me about his mornings, i felt like crying. he puts on his stupid high shorts and puts on his bright orange sweatbands; one around his head and a sweatband on both his arms and legs.
if i remember correctly, he then heats up one of those quick and easy waffles and then begins his laps around the neighbourhood. and that's why i'm sat here, on that same chair that ruined my life.
"hey jude"
"oh hey y/n oh that's a nice rug that tiger looks proud"
" i know right, i took it from mrs martins doorstep" he nods awkwardly in response to my words. i continue to speak "your shorts are looking especially shiny today, what's up with that?"
"oh thanks. my mum used some colour bleach thing, i don't know what it's called." he shrugs after he speaks, one arm rested on the back of his neck.
"so.. do you want to know something?" lord, give me strength.
"i mean sure, i guess"
"i'm pregnant"
i observe his face as he takes in the news. i don't know how he feels, his face is not letting anything show, his eyes void of emotion and maybe even soul. the only things he's doing is fidgeting with his hands, sometimes cracking his knuckles.
just as he opens his mouth to reply, jude's fellow runners appeared, their junks peeking through the shorts, that seem to get shorter and shorter everyday. those shorts make me picture them naked, whether i like it or not. he turns back to me and says,
"i- i'm meant to be running now"
"i know"
the air is tense, it's choking me. we both don't know where to look or what to say. luckily, he breaks it soon after.
"so.. what do you think we should do?"
hmmm. he's not as douchey as some say he is.
"i think, i might just nip it in the bud before it.. you know turns into what some people say is a baby. do you know that pregnancies can cause infants to roam the earth?"
he chuckles and i realise i haven't heard a sound as sweet as that damn chuckle.
"hm. i've heard that too, apparently we were one of them when we were younger"
i smile. my first real smile in a while. it's a peaceful smile.
"so you're okay with everything?"
"course, it's you that's the one going through it, so you do you."
i don't whether or not to speak again but i do.
"i'm sorry for having sex with you."
"i'm not"
"i'll see you at school"
i ride off on the bicycle i had kept rested on the armchair, leaving jude to his own thoughts.
#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham fluff#jude bellingham angst#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham#juno movie
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Fan art for The Priory of the Orange Tree, which I finally read (and loved) early this year.
#the priory of the orange tree#tpotot#sabran berethnet#ead duryan#eadaz uq nara#tane miduchi#Samantha Shannon#fanart#digital art#holy fuck dudes this took me forever. I did the lines manyyyy months ago when I finished reading and only coloured it over the last couple#of weeks. consequently I don't remember what colour anything was/what things looked like in the book rip#colours have been changed for the schemeTM#anyway I reeeeaallly enjoyed the book. fully immersed in the world and all the characters were glorious. all very distinct POVs and arcs#and a really interesting take on magic and dragons and all that jazz#also lesbians. And Tane was my favourite even though reading her POV gave me SO much anxiety oh Lord#I remember shutting the books and saying outloud like 'oh shit oh no oh shit' could not deal with it#my art#also. I had to put the psychedelic eyes in there somewhere bc that's my artistic staple apparently.#maybe I can go back and finish some other old wips too -_-
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The Astrological Houses Challenge part 1/12
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* The First House of Twelve *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
A challenge to inspire sims 4 gameplay, blended with astrology!
THE FIRST HOUSE
“The first House is the House of self. This includes self-awareness, the physical body, personality, appearance, self-identity, self-image, early environment, and beginnings. It's how we initiate, how we’re impulsive. Any planets in this house will greatly influence your personality and how others perceive you.”
Since the first house is a comfortable place for Aries energy, and Aries is ruled by Mars, let’s pretend this sim is also influenced that way. That adds some aggression, drive, athleticism, passion, independence and courage.
Traits: Hot headed, Athletic, Self-Absorbed (basegame- self-assured)
Aspiration: Serial Romantic. (But this sim may have a change of heart/aspiration and change to Bodybuilder Aspiration)
Career: Secret Agent: (You may decide the branch, but it has consequences)
This sim has a life story, challenge goals and more optional aspects included in the image below!
What Will Their Life Be Like?
You’re making a sim who’s life revolves around themselves, for the good and the bad.
You always came in first, so it’s hard to slow you down even now that you’re a Young Adult. You had to be independent as long as you can remember, but no friends or family means more time to focus on yourself, right? Since you have so few lasting connections, when you finally marry a Good sim, you are completely inconsiderate to their feelings. You look into your backyard whenever you need a pick-me-up, as the planted roses of your favourite colour tell a secret story only you can understand. Will this Sim ever have a change of heart? Will they learn to love anything more than themselves?
Goals:
Start in a starter home
Marry a sim with the Good trait, but remain unfaithful to them.
Keep a garden in your yard, and grow a rose each time you woohoo a new Sim
Rekindle your relationship after being caught cheating by your spouse
Get in 3+ physical fights as a young adult
Go jogging or to the gym at least once per week
Purchase the Brave Reward Trait for 8,000
Earn the Adrenaline Seeker Lifestyle (basegame-replicate the thrilling activities, exploration, aruging, public woohoo, VR, etc.)
Earn The Spice Hound Trait (basegame-eat spicy or adventurous foods)
When you reach the appropriate career level, decide between Diamond Agent of Villain. If you pick Diamond Agent, you must switch to Bodybuilder Aspiration and abandon your Serial Romantic progress. If you pick Villain, your spouse leaves you for good and you don't remarry.
Reach lvl 10 of the Secret Agent Career
Complete the chosen aspiration
Have only two children
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EXPLAINING OPTIONAL ASPECTS:
Technically every part of the challenge is optional. Especially these parts, so take whatever you like leave the rest! This is more about inspiring gameplay than being a strict challenge.
SPECIAL COLOUR: This could fun for berry sims or just colour inspiration for things like clothes, hair, home, etc.
APPEARANCE: There are stereotypical physical features for signs, I used a mix of ascendant physical qualities, ruling body parts and general characteristics to decide this.
REQUIRED GENETICS/SPOUSE: If you want your next heir to reflect their astrological sign physically, you'll have to marry someone with those qualities to keep it genetically realistic!
THE NEXT HEIR: Specifies which season they should be born in to reflect their sign
CREDITS
A lot of my info is from The Only Astrology Book You Will Ever Need
My House Descriptions are from Astro Library
The cute Astrology wheel I am using is by DearHoroscope
I was watching this youtube video by Rosebud when they mentioned a Zodiac Legacy Challenge by Cowplant-Pizza! This instantly gave me the idea to combine the houses/signs/planets into a challenge! I'm avoiding reading through there's as to not influence my own challenge but from what I've skimmed so far it looks amazing and I can't wait to try it out!
OPTIONAL MODS:
The Personality Mod By MissyHissy allows you to make this sim a Romance Sim with a custom reward trait
The Zodiac Signs Mod By Radiophobe allows you to make this Sim an Aries with a custom reward trait
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More parts coming soon!
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lay all your love on me
okay!! so this is my fic for @magpiencrow's 1.2k writing challenge.
this is based off of the song lay all your love on me, slowed, by putin
pairing: nikolai/reader
rating: general
tags: gn!reader w/ gn pronouns, fluff
summary: falling in love with nikolai lantsov told through several vignettes
or: mindless nikolai/reader fluff with a alina and ivan being little shits
warnings: right off the bat there's a nightmare about drowning in the ocean, and there's one (1) swear word at the end, but other than that, there's nothing
word count: 4.1k
read on ao3
constructive criticism, feedback, and reblogs are greatly appreciated !
I haven't written anything in a while, so i may be a bit rusty, but please enjoy :)
You were drowning, and also pretty damn sure you were going to die out here. Your lungs were on fire, screaming for air, but you couldn't emerge from the ocean for long enough to suck in a breath. Sure, your hand or head breached the surface every now and then, but a wave would come crashing down on you immediately after, destroying all your progress.
The undulating waves threw you around like a football - a very pathetic one, at that. As hard as you tried to fight the current, it still insisted on moving against you (stubborn bastard), so really you weren't going anywhere. Just pathetically bobbing around in the same pathetic place. You couldn't feel your limbs - the only thing you could feel was the agonising ache in your chest. It was as if your arms and legs had frozen over along with your will to live.
How easy it would be to just...
...let the ocean take you...
Suddenly, someone grabbed you by the wrist. You screamed, which was a mistake; immediately, salty seawater filled your mouth, making you gag and choke. Nevertheless, you valiantly tried to release yourself from whoever - whatever? - had their hold on you.
"Y/n, Y/n! Relax, darling, relax," a voice said, sounding out of breath. "It's me."
You whirled your head around. Sagging with relief, you gasped out the name of your saviour. "Nikolai."
"Yes. Yes, Y/n, my love, it's me. It's Nikolai," he soothed, running his hands over your wet hair.
"Nikolai," you breathed. "Nikola-" - a wave reared up on its hind legs, ready to come crashing down onto your friend, ready to take him away - "no, no, Nikolai, NO-!"
You startled, eyes flying open. You were shaking like a leaf. Were you cold, or was it just the adrenaline from the nightmare still making its course? You shook your head as if to rid your mind of the dream. It wasn't real. Nikolai had saved you that night. It was fine. It wasn't real.
But it could very well have been real, a traitorous voice in your mind whispered. Scowling, you cursed your pessimistic side. Even if a wave had separated you two, Nikolai would have fought tooth and nail to get to you again. You would have done the same. After all, you were childhood friends, and you knew better than anyone that Nikolai didn't let go of his loved ones so easily.
He hadn't wanted you to accompany him on his journey overseas as Sturmhond. You insisted otherwise, channeling some of Nikolai's stubbornness that had rubbed off on you. ("You're not getting rid of me that easily, idiot. So let me come, unless you want me to steal your kneecaps.").
A half-smile appeared on your face as you thought back to the memory. Slowly, you got up from your bed. Your blanket was draped over your shoulders. You slipped out of your cabin quietly, walking down the hallway until you found yourself in front of Nikolai's room. He stirred in his sleep when you entered. The door creaked slightly, but it didn't seem like his distress was because of the noise.
You sat on the edge of his bed. Nikolai, previously facing away, turned over to face you. His eyes were still screwed shut, eyebrows knitted together and an unhappy expression on his face. You frowned.
"Nikolai." you nudged him gently. "Wake up. You're okay, just wake up. It's just a dream."
He opened his eyes, blinking at you. "Y/n?"
"Hi," you said. A lock of golden hair fell over his forehead, and upon instinct, you reached to brush it away. He let you, not uttering any of his usual complaints.
"You were gone," he mumbled, undoubtedly referencing his nightmare. "I- I couldn't save you, and you were gone."
You shifted into a more comfortable position - your whole body was on the bed now, with your back against the headboard. He leaned his head against your chest, and you ran your fingers through his hair. "It wasn't real. It's okay. You saved me - I'm not going anywhere, 'Lai."
"Me either," he agreed, wrapping his arms around your middle. A beat of silence. Then, "Thank you."
You were more than content to fall asleep like this. Even if it meant waking up with an ache in your neck. Judging from the way he was curled up, practically drinking in your presence, Nikolai felt the same way.
What a feeling it was to have found solace in Nikolai Lantsov, and to know he had found solace in you, too.
· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·
Nikolai's pov
Nikolai watched from the corner of the ballroom as you laughed at one of Ivan's jokes. One would say that he was scowling, but the Prince of Ravka didn't scowl. No - he was simply observing your conversation with the Heartrender with visible distaste. He was not scowling. And he was not jealous.
You and Ivan were smiling at each other, standing by the refreshments table, mouths moving quickly, the both of you obviously interested in whatever you were talking about. You threw your head back in a laugh. You looked gorgeous. Nikolai wanted to make you laugh like that - more than he wanted to admit.
The last straw was when Ivan lay a hand on your shoulder, and then snaked his arm around you. You didn't seem perturbed by his touch - no, actually, you leaned into it. He bent down to whisper something in your ear that made you duck your head in embarrassment and lightly hit his chest.
Nikolai's glare deepened, if that were even possible. Okay, fine, maybe he was jealous. Did he even have the right to be jealous, though? It wasn't as if he was dating you, as much as he'd like to be.
And oh boy, he'd like to be.
Suddenly, Alina appeared at his side, seemingly out of thin air. He flinched. "Alina."
The girl in question had a mischievous look in her eye. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the long, flowy sleeves of her dress falling just past her wrists. The bottom half of her gown was a sparkly gold, whereas the top half was a dark blue. The two colours faded into each other at the middle, creating a gradient effect. It was a beautiful dress. You had helped Alina pick it out yourself, if he remembered correctly.
"Hello, loverboy." she poked him in the side, grinning knowingly. "How's your crush on Y/n going for you?"
"I don't have a crush on them, Alina, for Saint's sake."
"Oh, is that so? You do seem... ah, what was the word... utterly whipped for them, contrary to what you just said," she said, tilting her head to the side, feigning innocence.
"Am not," he argued. "I-," Nikolai paused, taking notice of you and Ivan walking past a couple metres away. Unfortunately, you were too engrossed in your current conversation to notice him. His eyes lingered on you. He only looked away when you disappeared back into the throng of people.
Alina let out a triumphant 'ha!'.
He directed his attention back to her and glared. "Alina, I swear-,"
"Utterly. Whipped," she mouthed.
"I will behead you," he threatened.
She laughed. "In all seriousness, I really don't think Y/n and Ivan like each other like that," Alina said.
"Well, of course not," he agreed. "Y/n very clearly has eyes for me. I can't say I blame them - who could resist all this? Everyone's all over me, as I'm sure you've noticed."
Alina stared at him pointedly.
"Ah, except for you, of course. You seem to be the only one immune to my charm and charisma. An odd one, you are."
She rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother," she groaned. "Just swear to me that you'll tell Y/n you like them soon. Within a week. Swear on... your dignity."
"My dignity?" Nikolai drawled.
"Yes, your dignity, because if you don't fess up soon, I'll have to tell Y/n about your crush on them myself," she grinned smugly, and darted off before Nikolai could retort.
He sighed. As he saw it, he had three options:
1. Blackmail Alina (because of course she wouldn't give in to simple bribery)
2. Get on his knees and beg Alina to not tell you of his massive crush (there! he admitted it; he had a massive crush on you! One that he'd been harbouring for just over a year now, too)
3. Listen to Alina, and confess on his own terms
All three were mortifying, and things he absolutely didn't want to do. However, the last was considerably easier to do, and came with the most benefits and the least consequences. You had already seen him through his most embarrassing moments (and he through yours) so even if you rejected him, the humiliation would be minimal.
And maybe he wanted to confess. And maybe there was hope that you liked him back. Nikolai wasn't stupid - he knew when people fancied him. He suspected you liked him back, but then again, that could've been wishful thinking, or maybe he was misreading the entire thing.
He didn't even understand why he was so jealous of the way Ivan and you had interacted. Before he had fallen heads over heels in love with you, his childhood best friend, people flirting with you hadn't been a problem. He'd encouraged it, even. But now, bitterness flared up inside of him every time he saw someone getting a bit too cozy with you.
In short, his feelings for you had completely destroyed his facade of smooth, suave, sexy Prince of Ravka. And it kind of terrified him how poorly he hid it.
· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·
Nikolai had been acting strange lately, and it was bothering you. You feared the worst - had he finally caught on to your crush? You thought you'd been subtle until Ivan had approached you at the most recent party. Apparently, the scowl on your face as you watched Nikolai flirt with the guests had been fierce enough to kill.
Ivan had given you (unsolicited) advice, telling you to be straightforward and direct. That was what he'd done with Fedyor, after all, and that had worked out well.
You were pacing around your room. Ivan was perched on your bed, watching you have a borderline nervous breakdown like one would watch the view.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Ivan?" you demanded. "I'm about to make a life or death decision, and you're enjoying it."
He chuckled. "I wouldn't call this a life or death decision, Y/n. If Nikolai rejects you, he rejects you, and it's his loss. If he reciprocates, good, and you'll be free to frolic in the meadows with him, all fine and dandy."
You stared at him, your expression communicating, "Did you really just say that?", very clearly.
"Okay, okay, fine, I'll be serious." Ivan relented. "Just tell him, Y/n. What's the worst that could happen?"
Just as you were about to respond - "Well, I don't know, what if he rejects me, things become eternally awkward between us, and our 10 year long friendship is ruined because I couldn't keep my mouth shut?" - someone knocked at the door. You opened it to find Nikolai waiting. His hair was perfectly styled, as always. He wore a dark turquoise suit jacket, and a simple white dress shirt underneath. The ghost of a smile appeared on your face; you had chosen the colour for him.
"Hi, Nikolai," you greeted.
"Hello," he said. "Come on a walk with me. It's a lovely day outside, and both of us have been dreadfully busy lately - we may not get another chance to spend time together, I'm afraid."
"Oh! Of course, just let me grab more suitable shoes- I'll be out in a minute- Ivan, move." You rummaged around your room in search of the sandals Nikolai had gifted you for your most recent birthday. Ivan flashed you a grin.
"Tell him!" he whispered as you ducked out the door.
You hoped you didn't seem too jittery as you took Nikolai's arm, even if your insides were filled with butterflies. He seemed deep in thought for the first few minutes of your walk. It wasn't until you were both outside that he finally spoke.
"I hope you don't mind me asking, Y/n, but what was Ivan doing in your room?" he asked.
The question caught you off guard. Why was he so concerned about you and Ivan? It wasn't as if-
Oh.
Oh.
"Nikolai, don't tell me- are you jealous?" you exclaimed.
"Just answer the question, Y/n," he grumbled, which was enough of an answer for you.
You laughed, only feeling a bit bad that you were so amused. Nikolai Lantsov, jealous. You found that incredibly funny. "Oh, I'm sorry for laughing," you apologised, even as another giggle escaped your mouth. "You don't have to worry, Ivan and I are strictly friends."
He didn't seem convinced. "But the two of you at the party a few days ago-,"
You cut him off. "Nikolai. I promise that there is nothing romantic going on with Ivan and I. And besides, I don't think I'm anywhere near his type."
"Ivan likes men, Nikolai," you supplied, sensing his confusion. "Honestly, you need to keep up with gossip - he and Fedyor have been going strong for nearly three months now."
"Oh," Nikolai said.
"Yeah, oh."
"And, uh, do you? Like men, I mean?"
You bit back another laugh. "Yes, I do. One man in particular, actually."
"Is that so? Care to clue me in on who this man is?"
"You."
· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·
Nikolai's pov
"You."
As soon as that single word came out of your mouth, Nikolai's brain short-circuited, and several alarms blared in his mind. ALERT! ALERT! THE PERSON YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH LIKES YOU BACK!
He was too stunned to speak, which was definitely a first. So, naturally, he didn't speak, but instead leaned in to kiss you. His lips brushed chastely against yours. A pause.
"I- I'm really sorry, Y/n, I should have asked beforehand-,"
"Nikolai." you took his face in your hands. "Shut up."
And then you kissed him, and if his brain had been short-circuiting before, this was a full blown system failure. Sparks flew inside of him, and he was acutely aware of you and you only. It was a wonderful feeling, one that he immediately missed when you pulled away.
"Wow," you said.
He grinned. "I'm that good of a kisser, huh?"
When usually you would come up with a witty response, you just smiled. It was a smile Nikolai was pretty sure he'd die to see again.
· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·
Falling in love with Nikolai had been a long process. Your simple crush developed into something deeper like a leaky faucet dripping - slowly, but steadily. And then the realisation that you were in love with him hit you like a tidal wave. Drowning you, consuming every inch of your being, but not necessarily in a bad way.
You came to your epiphany while laying awake in bed one night after a whole day spent with the esteemed King of Ravka. It was a wonder that you'd managed to spend a whole 10 hours or so in his company without getting fed up, Tamar had teased. He did annoy you - and had today - but you bullied him back plenty enough. It was easy being with him. Easier than you were used to.
You loved the way his eyes sparkled after correcting someone on their use of the word 'impossible'. Loved how he devoted himself to his country so selflessly. Loved how he smiled at you so genuinely and lovingly, even when you didn't have the energy to show your love in return after a bad day. Saints, you loved him so, so much, and you were so in love with him, too, and-
Holy shit. You were in love with Nikolai.
You were in love. With Nikolai.
A childish giggle bubbled up inside of you, and you sighed happily. What a feeling it was to be in love with the King of Ravka, even if he didn't know it yet.
· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·
You twirled a small flower around in your hands as you walked side by side with Nikolai, your shoulders brushing occasionally. The taller blades of grass tickled your ankles, and a gentle breeze weaved through your hair. The sun peeked out from behind a few clouds, warming your face.
Nikolai intertwined your fingers, sighing in content. He craned back his neck to meet the sunshine, eyes fluttering shut. He looked stunning, just standing there with his almost otherworldly beauty as light spilled over his fine features, highlighting every detail.
"I'm in love with you," you blurted suddenly. "I love you, and I'm also in love with you, so. Yeah. I'm in love with you, Nikolai Lantsov."
You gave yourself a mental round of applause for your eloquence and tact.
He blinked. "Oh." The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, turning into a full-fledged grin when he finally processed your words. "Oh. I'm... I'm in love with you, too, Y/n L/n."
You beamed back at him, and cupped his face in your hands. You gently ran your fingers against his cheeks, tracing a line down to the base of his chest. The fabric of his shirt was thin and soft, unlike the suffocating material his suits were made of. Lovingly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you close. Your heart fluttered. Saints, you adored Nikolai. More than you could put into words.
"I love you," you whispered. "I love you so much, so intensely that it consumes me, and I'm drowning in it. But instead of it being hard to breathe, it makes breathing easier. It makes everything easier."
You interrupted your little speech by kissing him, just because it felt appropriate, and continued. "I was so lost without you, Nikolai. I didn't realise it, because as I've proved time and time again, I'm more than capable of holding my own-" you smirked as he rolled his eyes at the jab to his overprotectiveness "-but I was. I was a boat lost at sea, floating around in the waves, with no destination and no goal except surviving. Then you came along, and gave me solace. You were my salvation. You and your endearingly stupid jokes and your wild yet grounded behaviour. You're my anchor, Nikolai."
He laughed, but not in the mean way. In the happy way.
"I would pay you back with a monologue of my own," he said. "but all I can think of right now is how perfect you are, and how much I want to kiss you."
Your smile widened, if that were even possible. You met him midway, lips connecting almost desperately. The only coherent thought running through your brain was 'Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai.'
Nikolai.
· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·
"That one looks like a dragon," you said, pointing out a lumpy cloud in the sky.
Nikolai tilted his head to the left. It was rather cute - he looked like a puppy, trying to figure out what its owner was saying. His right eyebrow curved in an upward arch (you still had no idea how he managed to raise a single eyebrow at a time), and he pouted slightly. Adorable.
"I don't see it," he deadpanned.
You sighed and shook your head, dismissing the cute puppy ideology. "Nevermind," you huffed. As hard as you tried to pretend you were upset with him, a smile teased at the corners of your mouth, anyway.
"I'm sorry, darling, but I really don't!" he exclaimed, flopping back into the picnic blanket you two had laid out. Really, it wasn't even a picnic blanket. It was just a blanket. The two of you hadn't had time to find a proper one before embarking on your impromptu picnic. Nikolai, ever the improviser, had then brandished a quilt from Saints knew where. You suspected it came from Vasily's room, because who else would be pompous enough to own a red velvet blanket the size of China?
You dramatically exhaled again. "I already said nevermind. Not all of us can be blessed with a creative vision such as mine, after all."
Nikolai laughed. And Saints, the sound was downright melodic. You didn't even want to begin thinking about all the things you'd do to hear it one more time.
A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Eventually, he began stroking your palm with his callouses fingers. You bit back a smile, and linked your pinkies together. A gathering of clouds mostly covered the sun - enough to allow only a bit of warm, gold light to seep out. You wondered briefly how Nikolai looked right now, basking underneath the faint sunshine.
The answer came to you easily, even without looking at him: fucking beautiful.
However, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of staring at him. The last time he had caught you gaping at him like a lovesick fool, he had teased you endlessly. It was ridiculous. It wasn't as if he didn't stare at you. No, actually. He stared at you all the time. In fact, he was doing it right now.
You bit back a grin when you felt his eyes on you. But before you could tease him for it, he got up suddenly, offering you a hand.
"Come on," he urged. "Follow me."
"Where to?" you questioned curiously.
He smirked. Tugged on your hand. Winked. "You'll see."
"Right, that's not cryptic at all," you muttered.
Eventually, after a minute or so of walking (and plenty of you trying to weasel more information out of him) the two of you had seemed to reach your destination. A huge tree hung above you, offering its shade. You plopped down, but Nikolai remained standing.
Strangely, he was looking rather nervous. Repeatedly tugging at the collar of his beige button-up shirt, and kicking at the grass.
"Y/n, darling, don't just sit there, you're making me nervous," he whined.
You giggled, but stood up anyway. "I could say the same about you. What's on your mind, dear?"
He took a deep breath, and looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you, Y/n. I love you, and I'm in love with you. I always have, and always have been. It's just- you're wonderful. And intelligent. And charming. And I am so, so glad you are my partner - in the romantic sense, and the platonic sense. If I'm being honest, I'm quite sure I'd be tearing at the seams without you to sew me back together every time I do something particularly foolish.
And I hope you'll always be there to ground me. Because I will always be there for you. Th-there's no other way to say this, my darling, but I'd quite like to spend the rest of my life with you, so..."
He brandished a dark blue box from his back pocket (this probably wasn't the time, but you had to mention that you could never fit something that large in your pocket. Why did men's clothing always have bigger pockets?) and got down on one knee.
"Will you do me the honour of marrying me, Y/n?" he finished.
Holy fuck. Holy mother of Saints. Holy everything. Was this real? Saints. This really was real, wasn't it? Nikolai Lantsov was proposing to you.
A sob escaped from your throat, and you nodded frantically, not wanting him to think you were upset. "Yes," you said. "Saints, Nikolai, yes."
He smiled. You knew that he smiled a lot, but this smile was different. Usually, he just grinned or smirked in a devilish way - this was more of a beam. He looked so genuinely happy (genuinely happy, because of you!) that it made your heart soar, and you were pretty sure you fell in love with him all over again for the second time. You'd never get tired of it, though. Not when it came to Nikolai (Nikolai, your husband-to-be!). Never when it came to Nikolai.
You soon found yourself enveloped in a hug. He spun you around, both of you laughing (and crying). When he set you down, you could have sworn you saw his eyes welling up.
"Now, my love, those better be happy tears," he tutted.
"Of course they're happy tears, you stupid puppy dog!" you sniffed. "I love you."
He beamed into your hair. "I love you, too, Y/n."
What a feeling it was to be in love with Nikolai Lantsov, and to know that he was in love with you, too.
#uservignette#magpie's 1.2k#nikolai lantsov#grishaverse#grishaverse imagine#grishaverse fic#reader insert#nikolai lanstov x reader#nikolai lanstov imagines#reader#x y/n#x reader#event fic#fanfic#nikolai duology#fluff#grishaverse fanfiction#grishaverse fandom#vig's writing
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This Night is Sparkling, Don't You Let it Go
Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader
Word Count: 3,535
Warnings: Mentions of the Hiroshima atomic bombing
Summary: During a snow storm (at sea!), and, in an attempt to assuage the Doctor in a moment of boredom, you teach him how to fold an origami crane. Clara, meanwhile, plans a movie night.
A/N: Some important context - Reader is aware of and refers to the story of Sadako Sasaki and, because of this, reader also knows how to fold a paper crane.
It was snowing. At sea.
Your hands were curled around the railing of the ship, and you were standing on your tip toes, leaning forward and looking towards the sky in wonder. The Doctor pondered on whether you had ever actually seen snow at sea before, if you had ever consciously thought of it as a thing that happened. So many humans, he had found, had never realised it snowed at sea, which was strange to him.
Of course it snows at sea, he’d once told Albert Einstein, wearing a different face in a different life, the weather doesn’t just stop because there’s no land.
He thought about this, so he wouldn’t think of other things.
Like the way your eyes sparkled against the star light – there were so many stars here, and it had been far too long since the Doctor had seen Earth’s night sky without light pollution. Your eyes were bright, in that special way that was just so distinctly you. You held so much appreciation, so much joy, in everything the Doctor showed you, and it seemed to radiate off of you.
Hence how you were now, swaying with the ship and looking at the surrounding area with so much awe.
“This is magical,” you said softly, and the Doctor wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard it. He was sure that if he was human, he wouldn’t have.
He had to agree though, ‘magical’ certainly was the word for it.
The snow fell, painted into your hair, dusted across the bridge of your nose, and settled against your jacket. He wanted to reach out his hand and brush it off of you, swipe his thumb across your cheek and rest his palm against your jaw.
He turned away from you, swallowing harshly. These were the kind of thoughts he wasn’t supposed to be having.
You were human. Impossibly young, especially compared to him.
And yet…
The Doctor drummed his fingers against the railing, staring out at the view. From this angle, he couldn’t see anything else except the snow, dancing against the inky black sea.
He had known this would be something you would enjoy, which was part of the reason why he had decided to land on this ship. Monitoring the convoy was just an afterthought compared to the delight you now had over snow at sea.
It was harmless, wasn’t it? To do things that made you happy. He wanted everyone he cared for to be happy, not just you. Why, just last week (well, comparatively, since time was a relative construct to him), he had devoted an entire itinerary to things Clara wanted to do.
It had ended with her trying to fight Sigmund Freud, physically fight him – like some sort of rabid beast, and the Doctor had elected to maybe reviewing her itineraries beforehand for now on. At least to make sure they were less violent.
He couldn’t explain the why’s or the how’s, but, with you though, it felt different.
Well, he could most certainly explain it, but to do so would mean to think about it, and he couldn’t think about it.
He tapped his foot against the metal tiling. If he only had something to do, beyond watching and waiting, and waiting and watching, he wouldn’t even have to entertain these thoughts.
No, it would have been far better if he were busy, then he wouldn’t be thinking any of these things at all.
God he was bored.
Behind him, the Doctor heard the door to bridge swung open. He leaned the left side of his body into the rail, so he could half turn around and see who had just come out.
Clara, brilliant, wonderful Clara, popped her head out through the open doorway. She eyed the two of you, giving the Doctor a questioning look. He shook his hand subtly, in a ‘don’t ask’ gesture, and in response Clara pursed her lips.
“Oi, you two,” she said, and in the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw you jump and turn around.
“Bit of warning next time, could you?” You breathed out, and you rubbed a hand against your chest, the place where you heart was.
“Well, I don’t mean to go all nanny on you,” Clara continued, ignoring you. “But you’re both going to catch a cold if you stand out there any longer.”
“Nah not me,” The Doctor said, leaning against the rail nonchalantly. If his elbow lightly brushed against your arm, it wasn’t of any consequence. “I’m a Time Lord, a little bit of snow is nothing.”
“I don’t care,” Clara said. “Inside. Both of you. Now.”
You turned to face the Doctor, quirking your lips up slightly as you shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I for one am not bold enough to argue with Clara.”
“And that’s why you’re smarter than he is,” Clara replied, nodding towards the Doctor when she called him out.
You laughed lightly, brushing some of the snow out of your hair and off of your shoulders as you walked towards the doorway. You had gone ahead of the Doctor, and were well inside the bridge by the time the Doctor reached Clara, grumbling the entire way.
Clara pulled him aside as he entered. “You need to tell Y/N,” she said tersely.
The Doctor waved a hand at her, and brushed some of the snow off of his pants. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Clara snorted, pulling the door closed. “Uh huh, yeah, sure. And those googly eyes you make are ‘nothing’ too.”
“Exactly.”
Clara rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that, right?”
The Doctor paused, eyeing Clara curiously. “Hm.”
Out of the two of them, the Doctor wouldn’t consider himself to be the impossible one here.
Clara raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“You know,” The Doctor said, streamlining around that particular thought. “f I had a penny for every time someone had told me that, I could afford a ticket to see Hamilton.”
“What’s Hamilton?”
“Before your time, Oswald,” The Doctor strode past her. “Give it a couple of years, you’ll find it hilarious.”
The Doctor and Clara reached the mess hall, where you were sitting at a table with Captain Carter, the one in charge of this whole mission. There was a collection of different small square pieces of paper scattered across the table between the two of you.
“How long until we reach the base?” The Doctor asked, sauntering in as if he owned the place. It was important to behave with confidence, after all.
Captain Carter raised a subtle eyebrow, either not believing his act (which wasn’t an act, not really. It was more of an exaggerated performance), or just wasn’t impressed by it. “Another day, at the earliest. However, with all this snow it might be two.”
The Doctor slumped into the seat beside you, and Clara went over to the kitchen. “Is there anything pressing to do then?” She asked. “Because I was thinking of doing a movie night, otherwise.”
Captain Carter pondered this for a moment. “I think a movie night would be a good idea,” they said. “Help entertain the crew.”
“Ah yes, this ship is sorely lacking entertainment,” The Doctor rubbed his fingers against his temple. “I can’t remember the last time I was this bored.��
Captain Carter scoffed, and ran their hand through their cropped hair. “Well, Doctor,” they said, standing from the table. “I’ll be sure to find something entertaining for you.” They stalked off, motioning for Clara to follow.
The Doctor almost gawked, he hadn’t meant for that to happen.
Maybe they would actually organise a movie night, though.
Clara eyed him for a moment, mouthing ‘be nice’ to him. The Doctor screwed up his face and she rolled her eyes at him, following Captain Carter out, but not before she added ‘tell Y/N’.
The Doctor huffed and turned back around. He didn’t know what Clara was talking about.
You picked up a sheet of paper, focusing on it instead of him. God, he wanted you to look at him. “You offended them,” you said, almost offhandedly.
The Doctor slumped into his seat further, and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t moping. “I didn’t mean to.”
You gave him an amused smirk, those brilliant eyes twinkling in mirth. “You’re pouting.”
“I am not.”
The smirk grew into a grin, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Are too.”
The Doctor leaned his elbow against the table, and rested his head against his closed fist. “Maybe I am, but only a little bit,” with his other hand he gestured to the paper. “What’re you doing here?”
“Thought I’d make a couple of paper cranes,” you replied, and then, hesitantly, added. “I could show you, if you’d like?”
The Doctor knew how to fold a paper crane. He knew eighteen different ways to fold one, some of which hadn’t even been invented yet. Logically, he should have told you this.
He didn’t.
“I’d love that.”
You pulled your chair closer to him, dragging it with your legs whilst you were still sitting in it. Your thigh brushed against his leg, and the Doctor found himself instinctually repositioning himself, drawing himself closer to you.
You took two identical pieces of paper, placing one in front of the Doctor and holding the other one for yourself. You laid your piece of paper flat against the wooden table, lining it up with the grain. It was quite a pretty piece of paper, as far as paper went. It was decorated in a swirling pattern, inked in silver that seemed to shine in the light. The colour of the paper, he noticed, was the same as your eyes.
That shouldn’t have been something he noticed.
No, it was fine. He was just being observant.
You began folding it, and the Doctor watched your nimble fingers easily crease the paper, like you had done this a million times. You nodded for him to do the same.
“There’s this story that goes along with paper cranes,” you told him, your voice soft. Your head was bowed towards him, almost as if you didn’t want anyone else to hear you. “It’s about a girl called Sadako Sasaki, have you heard of it?”
“I haven’t,” the Doctor lied. “Would you tell it?”
You gave him a soft smile, your eyes shining under the fluorescent lights – how many different ways could they sparkle? Would he ever be able to count them all? “I’d be glad to,” you said, and then, after a moment. “It’s quite a sad story, though.”
He knew.
“Well any story can be a sad story,” The Doctor said. “It depends on where you end them.”
You cocked you head to the side slightly, agreeing with him, then turned back to your page. “I’ll finish it in the right spot then.”
You pulled your piece of paper open, inspecting the various creases you’d folded into the paper, then began folding them into triangles. “She was 2 years old when the nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima at the end of World War II,” you began, your voice impossibly quiet, remorseful in that sort of way that was just so distinctly human. “She lived through it, and by the time she was 12, she was her schools star runner.
“Then she contracted leukemia,” you continued, and your crane looked a bit like a large bird beak. “It happened so suddenly. One day she was running around her school’s oval during a practise – or maybe it was a race, and she passed out. At the time she said that little black spots had clouded her vision, and she hadn’t known what was happening.
“Back then they called it atomic bomb disease, because it was most likely caused by the radioactive black rain that fell on Hiroshima the day of the bombing,” You stopped your movements suddenly, staring at the folded piece of paper. You blinked at it a couple of times, and the Doctor wanted to reach out and hold you.
Before he could however, you continued. “Anyway,” you said, and started folding once more. “There’s this legend that a crane can live for a thousand years, so if a person folds an origami crane for each year of a crane’s life, then they can have a wish granted. Sadako heard of this legend and decided she would do this and try to save her life.
“She did it too. Within a month she had a thousand, and she wished to be better,” you looked at the Doctor for a moment. “It didn’t come true though, so she started again. She managed to make another 300 before she passed.”
Your crane looked like a crown, the kind they wore on Lopargos in the 27th century. “She’s famous because of how her classmates honoured her. They built a statue in her honour, and Sadako’s story sort of spread all around the world.
“The paper crane,” you folded down its wings. “Became a symbol of peace, since it’s symbolic status grew in direct contrast of cruelty,” you held your crane up for the Doctor to view, and he noticed that you had even folded a tiny little head for it. “There we go, ended the story in the right spot.”
“So you did,” the Doctor smiled softly at you. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“I learned it with the Sadako’s story,” you told him, and you fiddled with the tail of the crane, as if debating whether or not you wanted to fold the tail down.
“So you’ve made a thousand then? What did you wish for?”
You didn’t answer, instead setting the crane down and reaching across the table to get another sheet of paper. It was decorated in the same silver pattern, but it’s base was a deep olive green colour. The Doctor tried not to read into that particular choice.
“Anyway,” you said. “Once you fold them enough, it becomes an easy habit, and it’s especially good when you’re bored,” you looked at him knowingly, then glanced at his paper. “Oh Doctor I’m so sorry! I hadn’t realised that I didn’t explain any of the instructions to you.”
The Doctor looked down to his paper and hummed, he hadn’t realised that he hadn’t actually touched it. Suddenly, your hands were on his, and he was acutely aware of your proximity to one another. You had moved closer to him, so close that he could hear your heartbeat – a steady, grounding rhythm. “Here,” you said. “Let me show you in a better way.”
You began giving him directions on how to fold a paper crane, guiding his hands with yours. You were well into his space, which you had to be, for practical reasons, so you could show him how to do it.
“Aren’t you a thousand years old?” You asked, whilst opening the paper to take note of the creases, your voice impossibly quiet.
The Doctor almost scoffed. “I’m well over it by now.”
You hummed. “I wonder how many people have sent you wishes, then,” you said absentmindedly, as if to yourself. It probably was to yourself, but the Doctor, for all his flaws, had exceptional hearing.
The thought drilled itself into the Doctor’s head. That would come to haunt him later.
You bumped your head against his and it pulled him out of those thoughts. The Doctor could smell the shampoo you used, it was fruity and light – he wondered if it was new. You had resumed your directions and he tried to concentrate on what you were saying, he really did, but you were just so close, and you looked back up to him with those big eyes, and he just could quite concentrate.
Your hands were warm against his, and your fingers expertly worked at the paper with his in tow. The Doctor counted the little marks on top of your hands, the lines that were creased into your skin, the little scars that decorated them from adventures you had taken together as well as your life before him. He wanted to memorise them, every line, every spot, and the way that they moved, keep it locked safe somewhere in his memory.
You huffed suddenly, or perhaps not suddenly, the Doctor hadn’t been paying attention, after all. “Wait, okay, I can’t actually see what I’m doing for the next bit,” you looked up at him. “Do you mind?”
The Doctor shook his head and you stood slowly, gently circling your body around his and leaning your head on his shoulder. The Doctor swallowed, trying to ignore the way your body felt against his own, warm, and solid, and there – right there. This felt so much different to whenever he had hugged you, or when you had held his hand, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Well, no. He knew exactly why. It was to do with the intimacy, it was new and different, and so much harder to rule off as friendly affection.
He scratched that thought out of his mind.
“There’s a bit of a trick here that I like to do…” your voice was low and soft in his ear and The Doctor shuddered slightly. He hoped that you didn’t notice, or, if you did, you just equated it to him just being… well, him.
There wasn’t any other deeper meaning to it, after all.
All to soon you had both finished folding the crane, and you pulled back slightly with a satisfied smile. “There we go, your very own paper crane.”
It sat there small and proud, albeit a bit lopsided. One wing was slightly bigger than the other, but the Doctor already knew that he adored it.
“Ah see now that right there,” the Doctor said, grinning at it. “Is a very cool crane.”
“Well of course it is,” you replied. “We made it, after all -oh.”
You pulled your hands from him and the Doctor paused – where were you going? With a frown, you were looking at your index finger. You considered something for a moment, then popped it into your mouth. The Doctor followed your movements, his mouth suddenly very, very dry.
“Papercut,” you explained, sticking your finger out. “Surely there’s a bandage somewhere.”
“I’ve got one,” a voice said, and the pair of you jumped. Clara was standing by the door to the mess hall, pulling a small bandage out of her pocket. The Doctor ran through the events that had just happened, and couldn’t work out when she had come back.
Clara stalked towards you both, and, judging by the very self-satisfyied smirk she was sending the Doctor’s way, she had been there for a while. She handed you the bandage and eyed the paper crane. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah,” you said, peeling off the wrapper and twisting the bandage over your cut. “I just taught the Doctor how to make one.”
Clara turned to the Doctor, raising an eyebrow at him. You, of course, didn’t notice this, as you were too engrossed in actually fixing your papercut.
“Oh,” she said, because she knew full well that the Doctor knew how to fold a paper crane. She had been there when The Doctor had gotten into an origami competition with Arnold Schwarzenegger, and had won by folding a paper crane faster than Arnold had. “Well, that’s nice now, isn’t it.”
“Yeah,” you smiled earnestly at them both, then inspected the bandage again. “It might actually do something about that boredom now.”
Clara narrowed her eyes at him, and the Doctor wanted to protest. When she spoke the Doctor had no doubt that it was a challenge. “Oh I’m sure it will.”
You turned back to Clara, completely oblivious to what was going on. “How’d that idea for a movie night go?”
“Oh!” Clara turned back to you, completely dropping her attitude and giving you a small smile. She lifted up a set of DVD’s. “Captain Carter has gotten some people to get some popcorn, we’ve been tasked with finding some pillows and chairs.”
You looked around the mess hall, eyeing the myriad of chairs. “Well, seems like we’re in as good a place to start as any. Shall we get to it?”
Clara placed the DVD’s on the table. “Yeah, lets.”
You squeezed the Doctor’s shoulder as you and Clara went off to begin gathering chairs. The Doctor stole a glance at the DVD’s, and he swore if he’d been alone he would have laughed out loud.
Presently though, he chose to silently mope.
The Princess Bride.
The Doctor thought of the innocent pretending at the start of the film, of the extreme effort Westley goes for his true love, and how there were probably parallels to his own life if he chose to think about it.
Of course Clara had chosen that film.
He put the DVD to the side. No, he wasn’t going to think of any of those parallels right now.
“Doctor,” you called out from the other side of the mess hall, holding a chair in the air. “Are you going to help?”
He crossed his arms and eyed the film one more time. “Yes, of course,” he said, looking up at you. “As you wish.”
Re; the update: I just wanted to thank everyone for the well wishes, I’ve read them all and they’ve all been so sweet. Things have gotten a bit worse, so the messages have meant the world to me. My inbox has eaten a few of them, but I’ll respond to as many of the messages as I can when i have the time! Thanks ❤️
#the doctor x reader#eleventh doctor imagine#11th doctor x reader#eleventh doctor x reader#11th doctor#Doctor Who#DW
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scenario: deflated (pt.2)
a/n: as promised, here is the second installment of deflated. you can read the first one here!!! it's about .... words filled with a heavy load of angst so if that's not your thing, then feel free to read some of my other posts which are a little fluffier.
warning: angst !!! angst !!! angst !!!
oikawa was five years old when he met you. it was during the winter and his parents had invited you over for christmas dinner. iwaizumi's family, who were no strangers to this event, were unfortunately away soaking up the golden rays in brazil. so he was left with you, a person who never uttered a word until asked to speak.
he definitely found you odd, from the way the clips in your hair glittered in the softly lit living room light to the awkward smiles you would try to hide when you caught him staring for an unusually long time.
it was in his childlike nature to explore things he found curious and you just so happened to fall into that category.
if he knew then what he knew now, he would've told his younger self what he was feeling because why did he feel the need to pester you with questions when you were only told to acquaint one another? why was he always caught smiling when you were simply a distance away?
he convinced himself that what he was feeling was nothing more that what friendship felt like: a completely platonic relationship where no romantic feelings could be observed — which was natural of course.
because like i said before, the two of you were only five years old. and it wasn't until the two of you started going to the same middle school that oikawa started to feel differently about you.
you became more open, bubbly, louder etc. five year old you and the current you felt like two completely different people.
fortunately, there were still fragments of your past hidden in your visage. you would still feel slightly anxious when you were with top many people and your heart throbbing teases still packed a punch to this day.
the only thing that he could confirm had changed was your appearance. there were parts of you that looked more visually emphasized than others, which made him feel guilty for even batting an eye at those features. but his feelings never changed. in fact, they only ever got stronger.
oikawa was sixteen years old when he realised that his puppy love had manifested into full blown infatuation. he was also sixteen years old when he realised that there were other people who suddenly took an interest in you — and for all the wrong reasons.
he remembers interjecting when a senior was harassing you for your phone number, to which you declined multiple times. he was observant of his surroundings and the people that fell into them: small habits that people would express when they were angry, agitated, elated or tired, eyes dilating, contracting or drooping from those said emotions and body languages that wrapped those features into a single gesture.
using those skills, he deduced that you were anxious. not only because they were someone who you didn't recognise, but they were doing everything to make you feel uncomfortable.
"well i know now. that won't be a problem will it?"
oikawa was seventeen when he confessed to you. it was after they won their last match, celebratory shrills of excitement filling the court. you were stood at the front, wrapped in the teal coloured banner that had the characters "rule the court" inscribed on the cloth. despite hearing so many people scream for his name, all he could hear was you, congratulating him for his winnings.
maybe it was something to do with the atmosphere but you looked even prettier than usual, regardless of how fatigued and drained you were.
he remembers you taking a hold of his hand and grazing over his calluses that had formed on his palms. your hands were so small and dainty, yet still had a sense of softeness to them. it was so hard to not look at you with this expression of admiration, eyes darting between your eyes and lips.
and maybe it was in the heat of the movement that his hands moved to cup your cheek before leaning in slowly, making sure to catch your expression before he went for it. you didn't seem shocked at all. instead you were smiling, nodding slowly to respond to his request.
then he kissed you, passion and admiration melting into the the action. your lips were as soft as your hands, faintly tasting the cherry flavoured chapstick that he caught you applying before their first set started. it was crazy how he was always watching you, always observing for any small changes to your mood. the only thing he couldn't truly deduce was whether you felt the same way.
"you could've waited until we left the court tooru," you whispered in a hushed tone, just millimeters away from his lips.
"but then it wouldn't have felt the same," he replied, smiling. "i hope you know that i've felt this way for a while now."
"i definitely did not."
oikawa was twenty one years old when he realised that he'd ruined his relationship and friendship with you. he was twenty-one when he realised that you weren't coming back into his life like you always did. the pair of you would naturally gravitate towards each other like water molecules in a bottle and he'd inevitably broken that bond by his negligence.
he was naïve to assume that you'd still stick around if he wasn't always there. he was selfish to constantly forget about these important dates. had he prioritised his time efficiently and made time for you within his busy schedule, then he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.
the games he played didn't feel as rewarding when you weren't there to cheer him on. his evenings weren't as domesticated without you sat on his couch, arms open for him to lie in your embrace and mumble rambles of information that didn't have an atom of coherence. meals didn't taste the same when you weren't the one making or complimenting them. nothing felt the same without you.
and his reliance on you hadn't hit him until he was sat in his global literature AM class that all those pent up feelings let loose.
if nobody had looked up from their pc screens to look at him, then nobody would have noticed his tears, hot and heavy, dripping down the sides of his face with his hand clamped shut over his mouth. why were you crying? why does it hurt so much?
no doubt that you probably felt the same way on your birthday. just thinking about how lonely you must've been was making him feel worse for being forgetful and not taking the time to tell you how much he cared about you. not only as a girlfriend but as one of his best friends.
a week had passed since you had broken up with him and oikawa was falling into uhealthy habits. for one, he never left the house and resorted to eating a repeated cycle of ramen for his breakfast, lunch and dinner.
his voice was sore from the number of voicemails he'd filled your inbox with, just waiting to be listened to. there were probably a few apologies slipped in there somewhere but most of his messages were incoherent and slurred, a consequence of deciding to send so many during the night where his voice was prone to cracking when he tried to tell you he was sorry and missed you. then he'd cut the phone and harshly rub the tears away that formed.
when college closed down for christmas break, he'd already packed most of his clothes to go back to his parents house to spend the holidays with his family.
his older sister called last night telling him that they were having a family gathering as per usual with the usual amount of turkey and the usual amount of eggnog. obviously if he declined, he'd end up worrying even more people who cared about him so here he was, zipping up his suitcase filled with enough clothes to last for a few weeks.
iwaizumi, who had made it imperitive to tell him, said that he was going on holiday with his family, as were matsukawa and hanamaki. so it looked like he wouldn't hear much from them for a while.
he wondered whether you were going away for christmas break.
in the hours leading up to his departure, he was laid on his bed, thrusting a volleyball into the abyss of his ceiling with gloved hands. he was feeling better but the emptiness was still there. questions plagued his mind again. he hated it. was this it for him? for the two of you?
thankfully, three knocks were heard from his door; sluggishly, he pulled himself out of his slump and went to unlock the door, only to be grabbed by his collar by iwaizumi..... who was supposed to be on a train to his hometown?
"will you walk quicker? we don't have that much time left shittykawa!" he didn't say anything more until you were released, staring at the illuminations of the ferris wheel, built in the middle of tadashi park.
"come on, iwa-chan. i don't have time for your jokes," he said, taping his watch with a gloved finger. "i have a train to catch."
"well so do i." another shove forward. "and i too don't have the time. but if i have to see you walk around with an expression that closely resembles a kicked puppy, then i'm going to impale you."
"i don't look like a —!"
"listen!" he forcefully turns his head to face the figure stood facing away from them. it couldn't be.
then he looks at iwaizumi, hope significant on his muted features. "why is she here?"
"who knows? but she's here. so it's up to you whether you want the outcome to be something good or bad. all you need to do is to not mess things up again. can you promise me that?"
"......"
"well?"
".... i guess so. but iwa-chan, i've never seen this side to you. who's managed to make you so soft all of a sudden?"
"just go talk to her you idiot." he says before letting go of him, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and walking away.
don't mess this up huh? he couldn't exactly make any promises. he was prone to making mistakes. just being around you made it even harder to act somewhat composed.
he was only a few metres away when you turned around, eyes scanning over his figure. you could tell that he'd fallen into his old habits and it worried you. it's been worrying you ever since you saw him shaking during class. damn your friends.
"i'm guessing iwaizumi and the others did this on purpose?" you suggested, purposely not looking him in the eyes. your hands were too fixated on the stray strings inside your pockets rather than your childhood friend who needed closure.
"i suppose. but i don't really know why to be fair." he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "i don't think your friends would be happy to see me with you."
"lucky for you they're not here. they've all gone back home" he's seen you smile before and this one should've been no different than the others. but blame his observational skills. there was something troubling you.
"what about you?" he asked.
"my brother became ill all of a sudden so they've been in the hospital..... i'm leaving tommorow morning to go and spend the rest of the holidays with them."
something wasn't right.
"why didn't you leave tonight?"
"it takes time to pack y'know!" you mused. he didn't know whether to laugh or agree. so he did the latter. and a discrete blush worked its way onto your features, slimly hidden by the scarf wrapped thickly around your neck to the bottom of your chin.
"and... i wanted to see you again."
his ears perked up.
"my phone was broken for a few weeks but i–i listened to your voicemails... it was nice hearing your voice again," you admitted half-heartedly. if your friends had heard you say that, you'd be pestered with so many scoldings.
"but i'm sorry if i was causing you so much pain. i originally wanted to come here and tell you that maybe we could start again but i was thinking it over and thought that resuming from where we stopped wouldn't do either of us any good."
"what do you mean?"
"i want us to stay friends for the time being. this break wasn't perfect but it wasn't horrific either. i was thinking about it for a while and i really miss just being friends," you inhale sharply. "i'm sorry if this isn't something you want to hear."
why were you apologising? you hadn't done anything wrong. it was his fault entirely. he had neglected you when you wanted his presence. you had ignored all the signs and yet expected things to continue as if nothing happened. it was his fault that you were in the position, apologising instead of leaving to go and accompany your brother in hospital. it should be him apologising.
but when he wanted to, nothing came out. it was like his voice had given out on him and he was left to stare inaudibly at you, doing the same.
"you don't need to say anything tooru. i already know you're sorry. your voicemails made that adamantly clear. but would that be okay with you? starting again as friends?"
"friends......" he had felt the same way. not all friendships would make amazing relationships. the friendship that he had with you was something he cherished. he enjoyed being open with you. it never truly felt like you were dating to begin with. but were you really ready to abandon all those times the pair of you spent being more than friends?
the kisses he stole from you every time he saw you, the spontaneous hugs you gave him whenever he was at the brink of a breakdown, the late night phone calls where you'd compete with each other and see who would fall asleep first (it was always you). he wasn't ready to abandon all of that yet. he definitely wasn't.
as wrong as it felt, he still wanted you to be his. he still loved you, so much that it hurt. it might kill him if he ever saw you in someone else's arms. seeing you happy with someone else would always hurt him because he'd feel like he'd never been able to make you as happy as they've made you.
his thoughts were erratic as could be, spontaneously hitting the crevises of his skull up until he felt himself being pulled down and towards your face. your fingers drew circles into the soft flesh of his skin as your thumb massaged the skin just opposite his ears.
"i'll always love you, just remember that when you're with someone else that'll make you happy."
and then you kissed him, your arms slowly snaking themselves around his neck. if it was to be your last one, you wanted it to be memorable. you'd miss it all, even if continuing those things would make things odd. you just wanted him to be happy as he did for you.
howbeit, you both needed different things and different people. you weren't enough for each other.
and that was the cold hard truth.
so when you parted ways that evening, neither of you had left without tears rolling down your cheeks. because despite it being detour, it still felt like a goodbye. it still felt like there was a piece of you stuck in his heart that he couldn't get rid off.
he would continue to love you regardless of being your friend or enemy. if it meant that he could stay by your side for the rest of his life, then he'd happily fall in love with you all over again and repeat the cycle.
and he didn't have to ask to know that you felt the same.
aoba johsai masterlist
main masterlist
#myworks#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu!!#oikawa fluff#haikyuu oikawa#oikawa torū#oikawa x you#oikawa x reader#oikawa imagine#oikawa toru x reader#oikawa angst
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Fear Glow
Star Tear AU! Todoroki x reader
Word count: 1.2k
Genre: Angst
✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*.・✫
You always thought those unrequited love diseases were just to scare those with high expectations, keeping them grounded from making strange fantasies about love in their heads. You learned the hard way that they are real, not just works of fiction. You were glad it wasn't hanahaki, and yet, it still hurts just as much as you knew the truth of your one sided love. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop loving him, even if you knew the outcome.
It was past midnight, and you were still awake. How could you sleep knowing you had fallen for someone who didn't love you back? At first, you had given yourself small pep talks, saying that he did have feelings for you, as he acted more freely around you than the rest of class 1A. That was when it started. You had seen Todoroki and Ochaco talking and you thought nothing of it, that was until you saw how he spoke to him. He seemed free, and was happy. It was just as if he was talking to you. You felt your heart shatter a bit, and there was a lump in your throat, signaling tears on their way. Quickly hurrying to your dorm room, you lock the door just in time before the first few tears fall.
That was 2 hours ago, and yet here you still are, on your bed holding back more tears. After the first few fell, you tried your damn hardest to hold the rest back, but you don't know how much longer you can. You kept repeating in your head that you could've seen it wrong, that they're just friends, that you weren't special and anyone could make him that happy, not just you. And yet, you couldn't help but feel sad. You had gotten your hopes up, and now were facing the consequences. The more you thought about it, the worse you felt, until you couldn't hold back your tears anymore. One by one they fell, silent sobs leaving your throat. You tried again to stop them, closing your eyes to rub against them. Opening them, you came upon a strange sight. Your tears were glowing, reminding you of the stars just outside your window. You stood from your bed, your tears falling to the floor, making a sort of glass breaking noise once hitting the ground.
You were terrified. Your tears had slowed down a bit in the midst of your panic to grab your computer to try and figure out why your tears were glowing. Clicking on a reliable source, you started reading.
"The star tear illness is similar to the hanahaki disease. The illness born from subjects of unrequited love in which the patient starts to cry coloured tears similar to stars; hence the name. Along with the coloured tears, often there is a crystalline sound or similar noises when a tear shatters on a solid plan. The disease affects the victims eyes, making them turn color blind and, in rare cases, make the victim lose sight. The illness would disappear if the victim got their feelings required romantically and not in the matter of friendship. Although the damage already done won't disappear."
……shit.
You had been crying everyday since then. You would continue to see Todoroki with someone else looking as happy as he could be, and you couldn't help but feel crushed by it. He had noticed that you had become distant recently, but you would brush it off, pining it on you being tired, and he believed it. Every time. And so, you would cry daily, your tears being a bright blue color and shattering like glass once hitting the ground. It had been about 2 weeks when you finally started feeling the effects of the illness, or more like seeing the effects. Your vision was becoming dull, as if the colors were slowly being drained away. It was becoming blurry, meshed together. Todoroki noticed how differently you were acting, and decided to confront you about it.
"Y/N. Is everything alright, you seem constantly on edge." You couldn't tell him, he'd try everything to stop the illness, not knowing he's the reason why you have it in the first place. "Don't worry about me Todoroki, I'm just tired from studying." Sheepishly looking away, you try to walk away from him, however, he catches your wrist before you can leave. "Are you sure? You can talk to me about anything…" You felt tears coming up, so you made up some lame excuse to leave and ran, Todoroki watching you run off with a worried expression on his face.
It had become your mission to avoid Todoroki as much as you could, you felt horrible for doing it, but every glance at him made you feel like bawling. It didn't help that your vision had been getting worse by the day. You had begun to bump into small things, and telling the difference between colors was becoming more and more difficult. You didn't know how much longer you could see until you couldn't anymore. Todoroki had a small suspicion that you were avoiding him, so he did everything he could to give you space, but he couldn't help but be worried whenever he saw you bump into something or when you couldn't distinguish between colors. You had never been like that before, so why were you having vision problems? He couldn't take it anymore, he had to talk to you.
It was night, and you were finally having a crying free night. You were playing Genshin Impact (play it, shit is fun asf) when you heard a soft knock at your door. Confused, you make your way to open it, and regret that decision once you see who was on the other side. "Hey, may I talk to you?" Todoroki was in his, what you assumed, pajamas. You knew this was it, you couldn't run away from him anymore. "Um…sure." Moving to the side, you gesture him in, and he stands in the middle of your room. "What did you want to talk about?"
He faces you, eyes holding an emotion you couldn't quite place. "What's wrong? Why are you avoiding me? Is everything alright?" Ah, of course, those questions. You turn away from him, trying to hide your sadness. "I'm sorry Todoroki, I've just been busy and tired, I didn't mean to avoid you. I'm alright though, don't worry." Giving a forced smile, you hope he drops it. However, he's more stubborn than you remember.
"You're lying, I can see it." He stands directly in front of you and puts his hand under your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Your resolve is slowly breaking, and you want to just spill everything to him...but you don't. "Todoroki, I'm fine...just tired and stressed, I promise." He doesn't believe you, but he complies, not wanting to force you to do something you don't want. "I'm here for you Y/N, okay? I'm your friend, it's okay to talk to me." You didn't trust your voice, so you nodded. The second he left and closed the door, you fell to your knees. The tears had come back at full force, and it felt as though you were crying out glass. But you couldn't stop them. Deciding to try to sleep tonight, you open your eyes. Or, you thought you did.
'Why is it dark?' You couldn't tell if your eyes we're open or not. Reaching up to touch them, they are indeed open, which could only mean that it was too late.
The illness had finished its job.
✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*.・✫
a/n: this is so bad, it's all over the place HBSKDKD
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