Xiao: And To Exist Is To Suffer. W-

xiao: and to exist is to suffer. W-

travler: iam gonna stop u right there, thats exact opposite of existing

xiao: i-

travler: now now, come with me its time to get u a therapy

Five loving ways

five ways kuroo shows he likes you (one of them are from you)

featuring kuroo tetsurō from haikyuu nekoma volleyball team<3

fem!reader

warnings; mentions of drinking at the end, a bit cursing and dad jokes (that shouldn’t be a warning but we go with it lmao)

word count: 1,8k+

I just gotta write something for this nerd and I also felt like writing a five loving ways for him so here we go!<3

Also one thing, I apologize if what I wrote regarding metals and stuff is wrong, feel free to correct me!

NOT EDITED!

—

You just took a shower, wrapped your towel around your body after wrapping your hair in a towel too, when you had exited the bathroom which was downstairs.

“Mom, why does it appear like black dotted things on my legs every time I shave?” You call out to your mom, thinking she was there, loudly.

She didn’t give you an answer so you looked into the kitchen and did not see your mom but your brother Kenma and a guy with spiky black hair, getting the dinner table ready.

“Oh-“ you say out in surprise and speechless.

“I’m sure it’s because you didn’t exfoliate your legs good enough.” A gentle voice spoke up. The guy with a black spiky hair was the one who spoke up, who you assume is Kenma’s friend.

“Oh really? That must be it, thank you!” You say in a grateful way but still felt embarrassed about you yelling when you thought your mom was there, when it actually was your brother and his friend.

“No problem, I’m glad to help!” He says, in a way an old man would say. You looked at him in amusement before sprinting up the stairs in embarrassment at your small ‘commotion’.

Why is he talking like an old wise man? You thought to yourself while closing the door to your bedroom.

From that day, it resulted into a newfound friendship and hopefully something more in the future.

1.

You were having a bad day at school and Kuroo and Kenma clearly saw it, it was shown on your whole body language and the way you greeted them.

They didn’t wanna say anything until you felt like talking about it.

As the three of you walked home after exiting the train, you passed by a playground and Kuroo got an idea.

“Guys, I’m gonna show you a experiment.” Kenma hums in response, clearly invested in his game. So he sits on a bench as Kuroo drags you thé sandbox and pulls out a water bottle.

“Okay so, we get this sand here.” Kuroo speaks up while picking up a bit of sand in his hand, as you nod in an uninteresting way but still paying attention to what Kuroo is saying and doing.

“And we pour water on it.” He says while pouring water on the sand in his hand. “What do you see?” He asks you. You shrug.

“It’s completely dried.” He says with a poker face then grins at you when you let out a giggle in disbelief at his poor attempt on the playful experiment.

“I’m glad to see you feeling a little bit better.” He says with a gentle smile on his face. You felt your heart flutter at what he said and the way he said it.

“Thank you for making me feel better.” You mutter in a shy way. “No problem.” Kuroo ruffles your hair.

Kenma watched the interaction between you two with a knowing look before going back to his game.

2.

Kuroo was over at your and Kenma’s house, helping Kenma doing his chemistry work. He and Kuroo were currently sitting on Kenma’s study table meanwhile you were on your brother's bed, just laying down while being on your phone.

“Gosh, my head hurts!” Kuroo sighs in frustration, lightly ruffling his hair and massaging his head. “Want some painkillers?” You ask while looking up from your phone. Kuroo shakes his head.

“I can message your head if you want?” You tell him as Kuroo’s eyes widens then turns into a playful look as his lips form into a grin.

“Please do that!” Kuroo says while slumping down on the bed, sits in front of your crossed legs.

As you massage his head and he sighs in content and feeling the pain going away, Kenma speaks up after looking away from his chemistry book.

“How do you know if a metal is a alcali metal?” He asks.

“They’re highly reactive when it’s in contact with other types of chemicals.” Kuroo speaks up. “Oh okay.” Kenma mutters while writing it down. But before he did that, Kuroo saw the look he gave him which went unnoticed by you.

“You must be a alcali metal because you seem to highly reactive to my touch.” You joke as Kuroo lets out his loud obnoxious laughter and even Kenma seemed to let out a chuckle.

“That one was good.” Kuroo says, still laughing.

3.

Kuroo ran down the hallway, looking for you and saw you in the classroom working on questions about chemistry.

He felt eyes on him, people wondering why a third year is in the class where second years are in.

You were solving a chemistry problem when you saw a black hair tie appear on your desk. You looked up and saw Kuroo.

“I remember you saying you lost your hair tie this morning and I had a spare one in my bag which I forgot about and I also remember you texting that no one in your class had some to spare, here is one.” He breathed out as you looked in amusement and in a grateful way too.

“Tetsu, breath.” You chuckle out as you look at him with a wide smile on your lips, feeling happy to see him.

“Yes yes I am, don’t worry, sugar plum.” He grins at your reaction you had when he said the nickname.

“Thank you for the hair tie” you tell him, “and you’re embarrassing me calling me that, call me another nickname instead.” You whisper as you saw some girls and boys snickering, meaning they heard the nickname he used on you.

“Okay, I apologize.” He says gently and you let out a breath in relief.

Kuroo walks out of the classroom and he poked his head into the classroom.

“Good luck on your lab, my sweet darling!” He yells out with a grin on his face as you hide yourself in your hair in embarrassment, as your classmates laugh at his nickname towards you.

“Kuroo Tetsurō, no yelling in the hallway!” A teacher scolds him.

4.

You were in between an ongoing debate between Yamamoto and a bald haired guy from Karasuno, named Ryūnosuke Tanaka, which you had seen in a folder about the teams that are gonna be in the training camp. You listened in on the debate with an amused face.

“No, our manager is cuter!” Yamamoto yells out, Tanaka scoffs.

“Have you ever seen ours?” Tanaka yells back.

“Yes I have but I still stand by that our manager is cuter,” Yamamoto retorts back while pulling you by his side, “see, look at her!” Yamamoto says. “A clear and concrete evidence!” Tanaka looked at him in disbelief before he looked like he got shivers.

“Kiyoko-chan is still cuter, you city boy.” Tanaka says while pointing at his manager who were were carrying stuff, his ‘city’ coming out as ‘shitty’ instead. I think that guy just felt it in him that his manager was nearby. You thought to yourself, looking surprised at the karasuno wing spiker .

“Ah youth!” Thé familiar voice yelled out dramatically.

“None if you are making sense.” Kuroo says while pulling you away from Yamamoto’s hold on you.

“Exactly, none of you are just blabbering on now.” Daichi, Karasuno’s captain comes by behind Tanaka and pulls Tanaka away from Yamamoto and silently bows to you to apologize.

“One manager doesn’t even care about this commotion and this one is clearly uncomfortable.” Kuroo says, while patting your head while mentioning you.

“No, not really, this was amusing to hear.” You grin at the two boys who fought over their own manager. Both teams captain made them apologize to you for fighting in front of you.

“Alright everyone, gather up!” Both the captains orders.

While Yamamoto walked away to gather with the team, you walked by Kuroo.

“Thank you for saving me though, I wouldn’t be able to stop their little debate.” You smile up at Kuroo.

“No problem, cutie!” Kuroo grins at you.

“Oh shut up!” You roll your eyes playfully at him which he laughs at him, feeling a bit warmth and flutter in your stomach at what he said.

5.

You were at the mini party the third years did together. Kuroo had invited you and Kenma but Kenma didn’t want to go, as he doesn’t like big gatherings, feeling like he has to socialize even more than he usually does.

You were sitting on a couch, just sipping on water, not daring to drink and not wanting to either. You saw a girl who was lowkey throwing herself on Kuroo, her hands on his bicep and shoulder. Not liking the sight when seeing how Kuroo doesn’t do anything about it, you walked out of the place, which didn’t go unnoticed by Kuroo.

He followed you out and it was raining so he took off his jacket he wore and pulled it over his head.

“Hey, where are you going?” He calls out to you. You sigh and turn around to face him, your hair wet and your view blurry because of the rain and probably a few tears.

Kuroo saw the tears among the raindrops and held his jacket with one hand while the other wiped the tears away from your eyes, which he failed with as it was still raining.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks gently, his soft gaze locked with yours.

“I-I don’t like the way the girl touched you.” You mutter in a low voice, silently wishing that he heard so you didn’t have to repeat yourself.

“What do you mean by that?” Kuroo asks, genuinely confused which makes you kinda irritated.

“I like you, you idiot, and I don’t like seeing another girl feeling you up like that!” Your eyes are piercing and Kuroo’s surprised.

“I-I didn’t know.” He says in a shocked voice. “I didn’t react to it because it didn’t affect me.” Kuroo tells you as he gently holds your face with the hand he wiped your tears off with.

“Of course you didn’t.” You sighed out. “I didn’t react that way because you’re the only chemical, me who is a alcali metal, would react to.” Kuroo says, trying to light up the situation with the joke you had pulled a few months back.

“Tetsu, this is no time to joke.” You mutter but you couldn’t help but smile at what he said.

“I apologize.” Kuroo softly says to you, your nickname for him making him smile, he gently holds te side of your face with one hand and subconsciously you nuzzle your head into the warmth of his hand that held the your face.

Kuroo pulls down the jacket he had over his head.

“I like you too, by the way.” He says, with a serious face, while putting his jacket on your shoulders.

“Really?” You ask looking up at the taller male, wanting a confirmation and hoping he didn’t pull a joke once again.

“Yes, really.” He grins at you and leaves a kiss on your forehead as a confirmation.

“Want another kiss?” He asks, seeing your reaction to the forehead kiss. You nod while smiling.

He kisses you softly on the lips, holding your face with both his hands gently and pulls you in closer. You pull away, resting your forehead on his while wrapping your arms around his waist.

“It’s about time!” Both of you heard someone yell and you turned to have the way the yelling was heard from. It was your brother, holding an umbrella while being under one.

“Let’s go home, it’s late!” Kenma says while handing the other umbrella to you, his soft voice still being able to be heard over the rain.

“Yes, sir!” Both you and Kuroo say at the same time making Kenma shake his head in embarrassment because of you two.

—

It’s been a while since I posted, I’ve been busy with school and other personal stuff but I hope you enjoyed reading this, have a nice day/night! Stay safe!<3

spellbound:

summary: fate sure had a way with screwing with you, especially when it put oikawa tooru into your life as your rival and the #1 thorn in your side. it was another thing altogether when the two of you are paired together for a potions project, and manage to get detention for two months...together. for being one of the most accomplished students at hogwarts, it's a mystery how you can't succeed at dodging oikawa

pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

word count: 14.8k (ahhhh sorry!!!!)

genres + themes: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, a bit of funny stuff, hogwarts au!

warnings: some swearing, innuendos, kuroo being a conniving little shit™, iwaizumi being amazing, and makki being a lovely bastard™

It seemed like everywhere you looked, there was some little clue that hinted at destiny’s writings, a prequel, maybe, to the fate that awaited you at every turn. Of course, said clues only showed up if you paid enough attention, but the first contradiction to this was when you boarded the Hogwarts Express.

It had been a pleasant morning by all means, boarding the train with your best friend (who could almost be considered your brother) Kuroo Tetsurou, as well as waving goodbye to your parents and the muggle life that they had lived. Being eleven years old and finally getting to live the stories that their mothers had always talked about had shot excitement up into their spines, a tingle that never subsided until they sat down in the train compartment. Sun shone through the open panels of the glass, and in some distant part of you, you wondered if you’d ever miss home.

“It was about damn time!” Kuroo had yelled as the train began to move. “We’re finally off to Hogwarts! You and me, living the dream and–”

“Shut up Tetsu.” You had offered in response, hoping that the grin on your face was smug and not excited. You began to lift up your bag, checking for all the school books that were required when two people came bounding down the aisle.

“Hey,” the gray haired boy had greeted, shooting a gentle smile their way. “My name’s Sugawara Koushi, and this is my friend Sawamura Daichi.” At that moment, the boy with dark hair offered a friendly nod. “If you have any extra space in your compartment, would you mind if we sat with you?”

“Of course not.” Kuroo had responded, patting the seats across from him. “The more the merrier.”

“Thank you.” Sawamura had thanked them, before he and Sugawara sat down. “It’s a relief that you managed to find an actually peaceful compartment. Near the back of the train, it’s absolute chaos.”

“Hmm?” You hummed. “Why’s that?”

“Girls.” Sugawara and Sawamura had groaned simultaneously. Taking a pause, Sugawara glanced up at you, before his eyebrows shot upwards. “Shoot, how rude of me. What’s your name?” He had added frantically.

You chuckled good naturedly, as you slid a hand over Kuroo’s shoulder. “No worries Sugawara. I’m Y/L/N Y/N, and this idiot here is Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Y/N, you’re insulting me too early!” Kuroo teased with his usual smirk. Turning sideways, he began digging through his pockets for the wizarding change he kept somewhere. “Any idea what house you’re going to end up in Sawamura?”

“Daichi is fine.” He added. “I’m hoping for Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff wouldn’t be too bad.”

“Those are good houses.” You added thoughtfully. “I personally want to see where I’ll end up. A little mystery is fun every now and then, right?”

What a mistake it had been to say that.

“Hmmm, I think mystery is overrated when there’s a clearer path ahead.” A voice sounded out from behind you. Turning around, you were met with a boy taller than you by a decent amount, with chocolate brown hair and warm brown eyes. Cute. “Besides, you should have studied enough about the houses if you hadn’t been exposed to them your entire life.”

“And why’s that the case?” You shot back. “It’s not like you’ll always be right about your guesses.”

“Oh, but I am.” The boy drawled. “It’s hilarious how you’re not even able to bring yourself to take a guess.”

You felt yourself stiffen from the tension of it all. Who even was this prick? “Well, I’m not exactly sure how this concerns you…whoever you are, for wanting to do whatever I’d like to.”

The boy’s eyes slipped into a practiced grin, his eyes intent on boring into your own. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.” He had said. “Let’s see if we’ll see more of each other, ‘kay?” He sauntered away, leaving a wink in your direction as he left.

“Who the hell even is that guy?” You grumbled, feeling the anger in your veins simmer down to a low boil. “I said something completely normal and he went and turned it into...whatever that was!”

“Oh, Oikawa is the son of the Head of the Department of International Cooperation. He’s usually been nice the times we’ve talked though.” Sugawara explained.

“I’m not sure what I'd call that.” Kuroo added. “But whatever it is, don’t take it too seriously Y/N, okay?”

“Mhm.” You said, though your mind was working in overdrive. For someone who believed in finding clues to fate everywhere, this seemed less like a clue and more like an entire reality forced upon you. If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was this.

You did not want to be in the same house as Oikawa Tooru.

“Gryffindor!” The hat had shouted into the Great Hall, the applause deafening as Kuroo joined the houses that their mothers had been in. As he walked, he left an assuring smile in your direction, and a part of you was nervous. What if they were separated?

“Y/L/N, Y/N.” Professor McGonagall eventually called. Taking deep breaths, you settled yourself onto the stool, and let the Sorting Hat cover your eyes.

“Slytherin!” The Hat bellowed, as you gleefully stepped off the stool, and walked towards the Slytherin table who offered the greatest applause that they could. You felt quite homey already, and settled into the seat as you watched the other sortings go by.

“Oikawa, Tooru.” McGonagall had said, as the boy from the train stepped onto the stool, grin blinding. You anxiously tapped your toe and crossed your fingers. Not here, not here, not here, not-

“Slytherin!” The hat had cried out, and another wave of applause overwhelmed the hall as Oikawa took broad, confident steps towards the table, slipping into one of the seats as the girls around him sighed.

Fate was a monster.

And it seemed like you were it’s victim.

Now in your sixth year, you had adjusted to the eccentricity and wonder that the world had to offer, finding exciting new things at every turn. It was the typical cliche of how the students from the muggle world were far more immersed in the magic culture than the kids that had grown up in it.

However, with the normalcy of magic, you also had gotten used to the blinding annoyance that Oikawa Tooru subjected you to day and night. He was a thorn in your side, and at times, you wondered how he was attractive to anyone, since his personality was absolute garbage.

“I don’t know how you put up with him Iwaizumi.” You sighed as you flipped through the pages of the book you were using to complete Binns’ essay on the Goblin Revolution. “He just gets more and more insufferable every time you see him.”

“I don’t know how I do it either.” He responded. The Gryffindor stalked over to one of the bookshelves, pulling out yet another book for himself to use. “But the library is peaceful without him.” The two of you chuckled lightly as you gestured for him to sit down across you, dipping your quill into the ink just by it.

He was right. Today, more so than usual, the library was a calmer space, with the occasional student scribbling away onto their parchment or collecting a book from the massive archive of shelves. It was cloudy outside, but the shadows casted inside the library felt more comforting than eerie. Pausing to read one of your sentences, you dropped your quill and stretched your arms.

“If only he wasn’t intelligent. Then I’d be able to happily learn in pea–”

“You think I’m intelligent Y/N?” You whipped around to see Oikawa sitting at the table right behind you, shit-eating grin on his face. At your silence, his grin widened further. “Ahhh, it’s okay. I know you’re so in love with me that–”

“Shittykawa, why the hell aren’t you at Quidditch practice?” Iwaizumi groaned. “Seriously, for somebody as motivated as you, you don’t have your priorities straight.”

“But Iwa!” He pouted. “It was canceled, and I was out of things to do.”

“So you decide that it’s a good idea to terrorize unsuspecting people?” You deadpanned. “Creative.”

At this, his grin fell off his face a bit, but the calculating stare was still there. “Hmmm, well, it seems like you need help. After all, getting an E on a Binns’ last essay is nothing short of pitiful. Need a little help dear?”

At this remark, you flushed, glaring at him. “That was because of something that was beyond my control. Now if you don’t mind, Iwaizumi and I have much better things to do then interact with the likes of you.”

“But Y/N.” He cooed, voice dangerously low. “You do think I’m intelligent after all. Why not just admit that I could beat you in any way possible.”

“Hey there,” Kuroo greeted, walking in at just the right moment. The piercing glare of Oikawa’s eyes mellowed down into something a lot more normal. Kuroo turned, looking at the scene in front of him before he pulled up a chair to the table that you sat at. “Oikawa, you are the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. As much as I want to pummel you at the championships, you should probably attend practice.”

“You Gryffindors never pay attention to the updated practice schedule.” Oikawa sighed. “Well thanks for your concern Kuroo, but I don’t have practice today, and needed to get a headstart on reviewing the ingredients for Amortentia.”

“Fucking Amortentia.” You groaned. “It’s going to be fun to brew, but god forbid you end up with someone who doesn’t know how much peppermint you need to add in.”

“On the contrary, Amortentia is by far one of the most fascinating potions.” Oikawa countered. “The fact that you can literally make anyone obsessed with you with just a sip is something amazing.”

“It’s overrated.” You responded. “Obsessive love isn’t real love, and quite honestly, it can be dangerous if the two are confused.”

“Y/N, maybe you’re just not as well read, but–”

“How come you only call me by my first name?” You interrogated. “For someone with high class parents, you’d think you’d never put anyone on the level to call them by their first name.”

That hit a nerve.

Oikawa’s face morphed into something unrecognizable. Hurt?

“My parents have never taught me anything like that.” He said seriously. “And it seems like yours never taught you common decency.” With that, he gathered his books and left the library, an awkward silence in his wake.

“That….” Kuroo began hesitantly. “That was….”

You felt the pit of your stomach drop with the realization of what you had said. You had overstepped your boundaries.

“He’ll get over it.” Iwaizumi’s eyes held a softness as he looked at you. “Don’t get too hung up over it.”

“I….overstepped.” You had managed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Kuroo stared down at the floor, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. “Y/N, if you want to apologize, I don’t think that would be a bad idea.”

“I’ll write a note.” You said simply as you grabbed a piece of parchment and scribbled your apology. Grabbing your belongings, you waved goodbye to your friends as you headed to the Owlery. You could never manage to reign your pride in enough to apologize in person, but at least for your conscience, this was enough.

The owl soared away gracefully, and you watched it go off into the distance as you left the room. You still had quite a bit to accomplish, and the meeting with Oikawa had reminded you of the advanced Potions lesson that Snape had mentioned he would be teaching tomorrow.

Potions had always been the most complex subject, with the various ingredients creating concoctions with varying effects. Since the minute you had stepped in Hogwarts, you knew that you would enjoy it immensely. However, the coil in your gut seemed to imply one thing.

Whatever Snape was going to assign tomorrow would have some sort of catch.

You had no idea what it could be.

Oikawa had received your note. At the Slytherin table, he had run a thumb over the hastily written words, but surprisingly never commented on it. Something about his quietness rubbed you the wrong way, and you should have known how it would set the tone for the rest of the day.

Potions class was doubled with the Gryffindors, and you sat next to Kuroo in the hopes that you’d be paired together for whatever it was that Snape was going to assign.

“Your assignment today has been approved by the Ministry of Magic so that way they’ll have more experienced potioneers in the future to mass produce and hopefully improve upon this fairly recent potion.” Snape began.

Right away, everyone who wasn’t paying attention before shot up, interested.

“Now, with the base ingredient of aconite, can anybody tell me what you’re tasked to brew?”

Immediately, you shot your hand up into the air, along with Oikawa, who had previously been drawing on the side of Iwaizumi’s parchment.

Snape quirked his lips upwards, amused at the typical display of rivalry between them. “Mr. Oikawa, Miss. Y/L/N, hands down so the Gryffindors can answer.”

Slowly the two of you dropped your hands from the air, light giggling coming from the girls of the class, mumbling something along the lines of “Oikawa is so dreamy and smart.”

Snape surveyed the room until he landed on someone with spiky white and black hair next to Daichi in the back row.

“That’s Bokuto Koutarou.” Kuroo whispered into your ear. “This will either be extremely good or extremely chaotic.”

“Mr. Bokuto? Any idea of the potion?” Snape asked.

Bokuto had shot up quickly, and nodded. “Uhhhhhh…...Wolfsbane.”

Snape looked a bit shocked himself. “How did you deduce this?”

“Oh,” Bokuto had started excitedly, “Aconite is also referred to as wolfsbane and….I know someone who needs to take the potion.”

“Enlightening.” Snape added blandly. “I have chosen your partner for this project of yours. As you all have probably read, the process of making Wolfsbane potion is not easy and it requires months of diligent brewing. This will count towards your exams at the end of the year, so I suggest you take this seriously.”

Iwaizumi’s hand was gently raised in the air, attracting the attention of Snape almost immediately.

“Mr. Iwaizumi?”

“Professor,” Iwaizumi started, “In the scenario that you have disagreements with your partner, what happens then?”

“The pairings were chosen by the Ministry and myself so that way they could have a better output of successful potions. I’m afraid disagreements will not be tolerated.” Snape responded bluntly. Waving his wand, he tapped on the board at the front of the class. “Above is your pairing and table number. Please join your partner and wait for further instruction.”

Slowing your breath, you cross your fingers to look up and the board and oh. Oh no.

Oikawa.

Out of all the people in the room.

You turned to look at him wide eyed, only to be met with the same expression. Oh no.

Kuroo snickered beside you as he headed towards Iwaizumi, giving him a good natured pat on the back. Lucky bastard.

“Miss. Y/L/N and Mr. Oikawa, please take a seat at Table 14.” Snape called out. “You’ll have plenty more time to stare at each other.

Still shocked and appalled, the two of you walked to Table 14, still in disbelief.

“Please tell me I’m asleep.” Oikawa pleaded. “This is just a nightmare right?”

“I hope so too.” You shivered, sitting on the stool.

Oikawa’s eyes widened even further. “Did you just agree with me?” He whispered. “This is definitely not real.”

“I’ll only agree with you when hell freezes over.” You hissed. “Sit down before Snape kills us!” Oikawa quickly obeyed, sitting down in his shell-shocked state.

“Oh lord, save me. I’ve been paired with a gremlin.” Oikawa smirked. “Well won’t this be interesting?”

“Save me, I’ve been paired with a human leech.”

“Is that the worst you can come up with?” Oikawa teased. “Well, that can be expected from a–”

“Oikawa, care to share your thoughts with the class?” Snape interjected. “Such interesting conversations should not be kept a secret. Especially when in the midst of an important project.”

“Sorry sir.” He apologized sheepishly.

Snape ignored the murmurs. “The ingredients for the potion are rare and expensive, so when I instruct you to go to the cabinet, you will take your time and take only your allotted amount. Wolfsbane specifically takes about two and a half moon cycles to cook, and needs to be spun counterclockwise on the days that is a new moon. The final result should be a blue and smoky substance when placed in a goblet. You will spend the rest of the class gathering and preparing the base of the potion, and will be required to meet up outside of class to work on it’s maintenance.”

With that, Oikawa had soundlessly gotten up, being the first to retrieve the appropriate amount of all the ingredients and returning with full arms, and a concentrated expression.

“Oikawa. I’ll take care of pulverizing and sifting the Black Quicksilver. I think it’d be good for you to work with the aconite, and create the base so we can add the rest.” You said.

Oikawa nodded, as the two of you began the preparations. Staring back at the Black Quicksilver, you began shooting an assortment of spells to pulverize it, then found yourself digging through the cabinets to find a sifter.

Oikawa looked at you puzzled. “Aren’t you a witch? Why do it manually?”

You simply kept sifting, until it was a fine dust. Finer than even magic could achieve. “Because it’s better for me this way.”

Oikawa looked at the dust and nodded as he continued to extract the aconite and pour it’s contents into the cauldron. “Even a dimwit like you seems to be able to show competence in some small instances.” He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “intelligent.”

“You think I’m intelligent?” You immediately added a smirk. Ah, vengeance was always so sweet. “Wow, would you look at that. Looks like you didn’t mean the dimwit part.”

“Don’t let it get to your head Y/N.” He smoothly countered, as he continued to stir the contents of the cauldron counterclockwise. “Go make yourself useful and add the moonwort.”

You grabbed the moonwort, picking the leaves off the stems and gently adding them into the base that Oikawa stirred. Surprisingly, the two of you held down the fort well enough. “Does this work?”

Oikawa, ever so focused, began stirring clockwise, the base simmering to a tealish color as he left it to boil. “Good enough I suppose.”

“Is nothing ever good enough for you?” You had asked offhandedly. This wasn’t the first time you had noticed this. As much as you despised Oikawa for all his pomp and show, he was a very meticulous worker and always stressed about the littlest details. The smallest slip up could easily send him hurtling into the waters of overworking. You’ve heard the stories of Iwaizumi fishing Oikawa out of the library one too many times.

He looked back at you, slightly cautious. “Well I suppose if I were to lower my standards to fit the likes of you, then it may be.” You sigh loudly. That was nothing close to what you expected.

Professor Snape ceased everyone’s progress, and they filed out the door, not bothering to look back upon the Potions classroom. It had certainly gone much better than you had anticipated. Walking up the stairs, you decided that you’d spend your free time outside at the Great Lake. Hearing murmurs a bit ahead of you, you quickly climbed the extra flight of stairs only to see Iwaizumi restraining Oikawa.

“Iwa!” He yelled. “Give it back.”

“No,” Iwaizumi tucked whatever it is that he had been withholding from Oikawa into his pocket. “I’m not going to let you do this to yourself Oikawa.”

“But I can’t do what I normally do without it.” The look in Oikawa’s eyes was almost pleading, and you could see Iwaizumi’s sadness etched onto his face.

“Then maybe, you need to take a rest from it.” Iwaizumi suggested. Oikawa tensed, a hard set in his jaw, and suddenly, his wand was whipped out of his pocket and into the air.

“Then it looks like we’re doing this the hard way.” He said gleefully. “Rictusempra.” Iwaizumi dodged the spell immediately, grabbing the wand from his pocket and creating a shield for himself as Oikawa fired jinx after jinx at him.

“Tarantallegra.” You whispered as you aimed at Oikawa. Noticing the beam of light, he side stepped it, glaring at you with a venom you’d never seen from him.

“Y/N. Don’t be nosy and get out of here. This has nothing to do with you.” He deadpanned, his stare, reaching a dangerous level of intensity. Iwaizumi stood on guard but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you standing, arm extended and pointing the wand towards his best friend (however that came to be was beyond you).

“Actually, you attacked him, and seeing how Iwaizumi is my friend, I’m not exactly going to let you walk away scot-free.”

“Y/N, you should probably get out of here.” Iwaizumi added. “Getting in trouble now would only ruin everyone’s chances of participating in the Interhouse Tournament or doing anything useful.”

“No!” Oikawa and you retorted simultaneously. The two of you used every charm, jinx, curse, and countercurse you could until the hallway was filled with nothing more than the shocked eyes of the other students and Iwaizumi trying to calm the two of you down as you shot more and more spells at each other.

This felt good. To be able to put all the frustration that had boiled up through years and years of torment had an almost therapeutic effect. Besides, with every flick of his wand, Oikawa was actively combatting everything you threw at him while effectively attacking you. It was by no means a one sided duel. Students began to crowd the halls as you continued, not letting up in the slightest.

Dodging Oikawa’s stunning spell, you put up yet another shield. “Running out of ideas?” You taunted, sending a disarming spell his way.

Oikawa defended against that almost too easily and shot back a reply of his own. “You’re dueling someone you can’t win against Buttercup.” He shot a body-bind curse at you, which you diffused with a spell of your own.

“Try me then.” You shot yet another spell, until Professor McGonagall thudded through the hall with so much purpose that the students around you felt like they would combust.

“What in the world!” She scolded. “Two sixth years having a duel in the middle of the hallway, disrupting classes, and being a bad example for the younger kids. I didn’t believe it when I heard it. And Iwaizumi!” Iwaizumi blinked fiercely before making eye contact with her. “How come you didn’t do anything to stop this?”

“He did Professor,” You immediately interjected. “It’s just that Oikawa here had no concept of respect and began attacking him. I merely swooped in as a means of self-defense.”

“Is this true?” McGonagall asked Oikawa, glare unwavering.

Some sort of switch flipped in Oikawa, and suddenly he was the all too charming model student that the rest of the school saw him as. “Professor, I acted out of turn when Iwaizumi, my best friend, took something that belonged to me and kept it from me even when I requested it be returned. As for Y/L/N, she cut in without context of the gravity of the situation.”

McGonagall exhaled tensely, looking between the three of them. “Iwaizumi, why did you take whatever it was that you did from Oikawa?”

Iwaizumi’s confidence returned full strength. “I did it for his well-being professor. I personally do not regret my actions one bit.”

“I do hope that you will make better choices in the future Iwaizumi,” She lectured. “As for Y/L/N, and Oikawa, I think I shall leave Professor Snape to deal with you since he is your Head of House. Please, follow me.”

A sense of dread pooled in your stomach of the thought of being subjected to Snape’s punishments. The fact that you could be banned from the magical world or even doing magic by expulsion from Hogwarts made the anxiety that thrummed inside you grow into a larger feeling of all encompassing fear. To think that you could lose everything just because you had witnessed Oikawa’s outburst was almost too much to bear. Turning to Oikawa, you could see his face set in stony impassiveness, knowing full well it was merely a facade. His wide eyes and twitching brow was a testament to this.

“Severus.” McGonagall had announced into their Head of House’s office. “I believe you must have heard of the earlier events.”

Snape emerged from the corner, clutching a quill in hand. “Hmm. Oh yes, I believe I have. It was the talk of my Potions class.”

Oikawa and you cringed at the statement. Snape glanced back at them. “Well, do come in Miss. Y/L/N and Mr. Oikawa. Thank you for escorting them here Minerva.” With that, the two of them walked in while McGonagall walked out, back to wherever she had meant to go before they were caught.

Snape’s office wasn’t exactly comforting when the air of dread and anxiety seemed to taint the air around them. Every breath you took sent the pit in your stomach even lower. Oikawa fiddled with his fingers as he stared down at the floor. Snape finally sat down at his desk, gaze unwavering as he stared at the two of them. “So,” He started, “Please inform me as to why two of the house’s most accomplished students were found by the Head of Gryffindor and dueling in the middle of the corridor.”

Oikawa rose his head to face Snape, a regretful look plastered on it. “Sir, I...my best friend took something that I needed and refused to give it back to me. He was doing it for more personal reasons, but the consensus was that he did not return it to me when I asked. I was desperate and resorted to a tickling charm to quickly distract him long enough to take back what was my possession, but Y/L/N interjected and she shot a spell at me in defense of my friend. The duel had escalated from there, sir.”

Snape contemplated this information, before moving his eyes to you. “Miss. Y/L/N, why exactly did you feel the urge to interject in this situation?”

You felt your hands clam up as you gulped back your nervousness. “Professor,” You said at nearly a whisper. “Iwaizumi is a good friend of mine. When I saw the exchange, I fully planned on walking past and ignoring it when I saw Oikawa shoot the tickling charm at him. From there, it had been instinct and just my urge to keep my friend out of harm.”

Snape nodded once, an indication that he had grasped the full extent of the situation, before his eyes settled between the two of you again. “Why was it that you two decided to duel in the middle of the hallway, even though the goal of protecting Mr. Iwaizumi had been fulfilled?”

“Well, it felt nice to duel her, sir.” Oikawa had said almost sheepishly. “Although at the time, I was more worried about my possession, so her interjecting merely stopped me from regaining it.”

“Likewise Professor.” You added. “I had been angry at Oikawa for hurting a friend for whatever it was that was taken from him, and felt like jinxing him was the only way to keep him from doing anything further.”

“The two of you do realize that dueling is forbidden and can result in expulsion, yes?” Snape pursed his lips as they both dropped their heads in anxiety. “However, I believe the petty rivalry between you two caused you to make an inaccurate judgement. I believe two months of detention is punishment enough.”

“Thank you sir!” They both thanked him, feeling the relief flood their veins.

“When will each of us start?” Oikawa had asked, a little life restored into his previously shocked eyes.

“You both will be doing manual tasks around the school starting Saturday at eight p.m. I will see to it that Mr. Oikawa’s quidditch practices are not disrupted by this. It won’t do us any good if the Gryffindors win the match against us purely because of petty rivalries and foolishness.” Snape had concluded. “That is all.”

Oikawa and you raised from your seats and exited the office in pure gratitude. You were safe. Looking towards Oikawa, you found him staring at you a bit longer than usual. “Is there something on my face?”

Oikawa backtracked for a moment, his stare changing into something a lot more alarming. “Oh hell no.” He murmured.

“Wait….” You had answered. The two of you froze.

Detention. TOGETHER?

“We….have to…….detention.” He sputtered, the color rising to his cheeks. “Fuck Y/N, you almost got us expelled and now we have to be stuck together for two months straight!?”

“You’re the one who shot the spell at Iwaizumi to begin with!” You argued. “Don’t blame this whole thing on me!”

“Fine fine, but aren’t you bothered at all by THIS?” He paced around outside the office, before deciding to stride towards the Common Room. “Gosh, it’ll be a miracle if I’m still alive by the end of this year.”

You began to jog after him, wanting nothing more than the comfort of your dormitory, “Don’t act all high and mighty Oikawa. I’m just as bothered about this as you are.”

“Why did you have to be so nosy?”

“Why did you have to shoot a spell at my friend?”

“He was my friend first you know!”

“And yet you always terrorize him.”

“I don’t want your time with Iwa to poison him and I–”

“Oikawa. Y/L/N.” Snape had said, following them into the Common Room. “I knew this was going to happen. Please, keep your bickering to a minimum. There are others around you who are not as fond of it as you are.” With that, he exited the room, his robe billowing out like a bat’s wings.

“Later Y/N.” Oikawa said simply as he began to climb the stairs to the boys' dormitories. You watched his retreating figure as you mounted the stairs towards your own dormitory. Oikawa was an enigma of sorts, and he was complex in all the ways he pretended not to be.

You knew that solving that mystery wasn’t something you wanted to do.

Then again, isn’t there a saying to keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer?

“Y/L/N!” Your roommate yelled. “You got a letter from Kuroo asking if you wanted to meet up at the Quidditch pitch for some flying.”

“Tell him to fuck off and bother someone else.” You groaned, shoving your head deeper into your pillow. After the shock of the events yesterday and the prospect of detention TODAY with Oikawa looming over your head like some sort of storm cloud, you found it easy to fall asleep and stay in bed. Plus, Kuroo knew full well that you were not the fondest of flying due to practical reasons, and most likely heard what happened from Iwaizumi.

“Well, it also says that he will personally request Oikawa to wake you up if you’re not there by nine-fifteen….which is in another fifteen minutes.”

Rolling out of bed, you quickly go through the motions of getting dressed, and sprinting to the Great Hall to grab breakfast. You had opted for some pumpkin juice and a strawberry tart as you navigated through the castle and eventually reached the pitch. Kuroo stood there happily, his hair a little more messy than usual, and a smirk on his face when he checked the watch.

“Impressive. A minute early.” He said, eyes glinting mischievously. “You must really be excited to spend some time with me.”

“Not a chance Tetsu,” You responded, grabbing him and heading towards the middle of the field, the grass tickling your ankles as you walked. “You threatened to use Oikawa on me, and considering the circumstances, I refuse to see him any more than I have to.”

“Oh yeah,” Kuroo chuckled. “What actually happened? Gryffindor and the rest of the houses are filled with so many rumors and Iwaizumi has refused to divulge anything to anyone.”

“What!” You found yourself saying before you could control yourself. “Iwaizumi didn’t say anything at all?”

“No, he didn’t. So you’re going to have to tell me what the hell happened because as your best-friend, I am entitled to know this shit.”

“Well…..Oikawa and I may or may not have had a duel in the middle of the corridor that’s maybe two minutes from Flitwick’s Charm’s class.” You mumurmed quickly. “And McGonagall caught us and sent us to Snape.”

Kuroo’s amusement was poorly hidden, his face contorted into a weird shape trying to suppress his laughter. “Iwaizumi let this happen?”

“Uhhh not exactly. He took something from Oikawa, and like the petulant child he is, he began jinxing Iwaizumi to get it back. I just didn’t feel right seeing the situation and letting Oikawa have the upper hand.”

“So what did he take?” Kuroo slipped his hands into his pockets as he walked a few steps behind you.

“I have no idea.”

“What’s the punishment?” Kuroo let out a breathy gasp. “Snape is usually pretty lenient with his house.”

You groaned loudly. You did not need a reminder of the horrid weeks you were about to be subjected to. “Two months of detention.”

“That’s not that bad,” Kuroo assured you. “It could have been way worse.”

“With Oikawa.” You choked out. “Together.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened incredulously before he doubled down cackling his hyena laugh. You found yourself wanting to kick him, or anything really, since the idea of spending four hours with Oikawa every night besides whatever they needed to do for their goddamned potions project…..well it made you want to commit arson.

“Shut up!” You growled. “What did you actually call me outside for Tetsurou?”

He slowed his laughter at the mention of his full first name and smirked. “Look behind you.” Pivoting around, you saw Oikawa, and the rest of the Slytherin quidditch team on the far end of the field, mounting their brooms and doing drills as Oikawa directed them, being a part of the action himself. Oikawa looked a lot more like the reputation he upheld when he was on the pitch….and it seemed his numerous fangirls thought so too. The entire stands were filled with girls of all ages from their house, crowded together and cheering for him when he caught the snitch in his hand, a childish and genuine smile on his face every time he did.

That wasn’t exactly the case when he saw you and Kuroo on the other side of the pitch. Oikawa slowed his speedy acceleration around the bleachers and almost fell off his broom from the shock of it all. When his fangirls discovered the direction he was looking, they sent a dreamy sigh in the direction of Kuroo (who had built up some odd reputation as a heartthrob) and a pointed glare in your direction (since no other female should be taking Oikawa’s attention, apparently). He dismounted his broom and began jogging to the end of the pitch.

“So this is what you meant.” You said, rolling your eyes. “You just wanted an excuse to watch Slytherin practice.”

“Can’t blame me for trying.” Kuroo smiled. “Besides, I think I got all the entertainment I needed today. He almost fell off his broom looking at you.”

“Looking at us, you conniving little shit.” You teased. Oikawa had reached you just as the conversation had closed, not even out of breath. Just how much stamina did he have?

“What,” He sighed out dramatically, “What the hell are you doing here Kuroo?” You quirked an eyebrow in surprise. This was a first.

“Spending time with my best friend,” Kuroo responded almost immediately. “It just so happened that our little dalliance coincided with your quidditch practice.”

Oikawa actually smiled at this, a teasing look on his face. “Seriously? I swear, you Gryffindors need to have the practice schedules spell-o-taped to every nook of that common room of yours.” He then turned to you, his gaze immediately switching to some other type of look. At this point, Oikawa had thrown so many types of looks at you that you didn’t even care which was what anymore.

“I think he invited you here, right?” He had asked simply. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise yet again. No insult? No witty comment? No cocky demeanor?

“He threatened me.” You laughed, glaring at Kuroo. “But I can get him off the field so that way he won’t be violating tournament rules.”

Oikawa smirked in his smug way, and you were already internally groaning because you knew what he was going to say. “Awww, you came all the way out here to see me?”

Kuroo snickered as you neutralized your face into a disinterested one. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

“It doesn’t matter how I phrase it.” Oikawa defended. “Because you still came and you never come to these. Do you have a thing for me? Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” Oikawa winked.

“Disgusting. Has anyone ever told you that you’re an insufferably cocky bastard?” You tried.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pretentious little argumentative slob?” Oikawa fired right back.

“No, you’re kidding me.” A voice hollered from over the field. Turning to face the practice, you found a pinkish haired boy (Hanamaki, that lovely bastard) using a spell to amplify his vocal chords. “Captain, as much as you love that girl, you need to get that Gryffindor off the field.”

Oikawa had an angry flush coating his cheeks as he flipped the boy off.

“So, it seems like you actually love me.” You grinned triumphantly. “If you have a thing for me, it’s alright.”

Oikawa scoffed. “As if.” He began sprinting back to the other end, yelling something along the lines of “MAKKI, I WILL END YOU!,” at the top of his lungs.

You decided to laugh it off and dragged Kuroo through the other end of the pitch before walking around it, and back towards the castle. The weather was actually good today, with soft clouds and a sweet breeze through the normally stiff air. It was a shame that you’d have to attend detention later that night, or you would have gone to the Astronomy Tower to catch a glimpse of the stars.

“Hanamaki Takahiro deserves a prize.” You said, your shoulder brushing Kuroo’s arm. “He reigned Oikawa within three seconds of teasing. I need to learn the art.”

“You are petty.” Kuroo chuckled.

“He got us detention.” You deadpanned. “He deserves all that misery.”

“But didn’t you also choose to duel him?”

“That’s a minor detail.” You waved off.

By the time that eight p.m. had rolled around, you had completed most of the assignments that were due and ate a decent amount of dinner before heading to Snape’s office, Oikawa staying a fair distance behind you. Snape had nodded at their punctuality before telling them that their assignment was filing and organizing the books in the Potions room, sorting out which ones were new and which were old by hand. Oikawa had nodded, but he seemed to be questioning a number of things in his head.

“The two of you have my trust, hence the lack of supervision. However, I will be verifying every morning, that you did not use your wands for any spells that could aid you in the tasks I am assigning. Be responsible.” Snape opened the Potions classroom door and ushered them in before he closed it behind them. The room was fairly cozy, illuminated by the lanterns and candles that Snape had lit prior.

“You’re good at manual work.” Oikawa remarked plainly as he surveyed the room, eyes calculating. It could have been mistaken as a compliment if not for the situation they were in.

“Everyone is if they have a basic comprehension of what it is like to live without magic.” You responded absentmindedly. “You’re probably good at it too.” That statement was true to some extent. Kuroo and you had always done each other’s chores, or anything to do with your hands really. It had always been a way to connect with what you were doing, and the sense of accomplishment from lifting something heavier than you’d normally be able to manage was better than doing the same with a simple spell.

Oikawa on the other hand had been exposed to spells his whole life. However, you’d see how he’d pick up the quaffles he used at practice, cut his parchment, and even move piles of books around by hand. He was nowhere close to magic dependent, and yet he pretended as if the lack of it was some weird phenomenon. You knew he put up a façade due to the years of observing him, and trying to find a crack in that armor that he made around himself.

Maybe this was one of those things as well.

Oikawa let out an exhale that sounded suspiciously like a yawn, but you didn’t think much of it while you made your way under the cabinets. There were nearly five hundred different copies of each type of book and at least four different types of textbooks. Oikawa followed you to that position, crouching down to see what you saw.

“No wonder Snape tasked us with this.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “He’s milking me for the four hours I’m putting in.” You grimaced in response.

“We are both putting in the hours you self-absorbed narcissistic–-”

Oikawa dramatically flailed his hands before placing them at his side, placing a pointed glare in your direction. “If Iwa had just given me my fucking...thing, then I wouldn’t have had to put up with you even more then I already had to.”

This peaked your curiosity. “What did he take from you?”

Oikawa blanched. “That is none of your concern Y/N.” He began rapidly taking sets of books off the shelves and arranging them on the table by hand. He had set them up into four piles, one for each set of textbooks. He looked back at you while you struggled to carry a large load of books and laughed. “Look at you. That’s not even a lot of books and your arms are shaking. How pathetic!”

Grunting, you stacked the books on the table opposite Oikawa and rapidly sorted through the books before wordlessly adding them to the piles Oikawa had established. “You were saying?”

Oikawa didn’t give you the reaction you were looking for. Instead, he merely went over to the cabinet and lifted an even larger stack of books than you had a few minutes prior with barely any strain. Putting them down at the table you had been at, just minutes earlier, he also sorted through them fairly quickly before placing them into piles. He then looked back up at you, his brown eyes filled with taunting intention. “I didn’t say anything.”

“How you manage to come off as even mildly likeable is some weird mystery.” You said. “Your fangirls must be deluded.”

“I guess that means you are too.” He hummed a tune under his breath as he grabbed another large pile of books and placed them before you. “You showed up to see our practice, and got Kuroo off the field since you didn’t want him to see the amazing skills that I’ll use against them.” He leaned a little closer to you, invading your personal space just enough to give you shivers. “Sounds like fangirl behavior to me, Y/N.”

You backed away from him, sorting through that giant pile and placing them in their allotted spots. “You’ve got it all wrong Oikawa. I can’t have you poisoning Kuroo by being around him all the time. Besides, I’d never cheer for you.” You took the chance to meet his eyes in what you hoped looked like a challenge. “Never in a million years.”

Oikawa’s observant face morphed into something a lot more daring. “Oh? You’re on.”

It had been twelve days since Oikawa and you had begun your shared detentions at eight every night, and you decided that it was single-handedly, the shittiest thing you had to suffer through. While the weekend was manageable, the weekdays brought loads of schoolwork that you simply did not have time to finish during the day. You sat up late every night, even forsaking sleep, to complete those assignments to the best of your ability before you collapsed. In the midst of that stress, it seemed you had forgotten to study for the History of Magic Test.

The marked-up piece of parchment stared back at you, a simple “dreadful” written in the corner. How a ghost corrected your test so harshly wasn’t even your concern at this point, because the score on your paper was nothing short of a disgrace. Tucking the paper within the materials of other classes, you left as soon as you were dismissed, almost sprinting, because if there was one thing you needed to avoid right now, it was Oikawa.

You rushed in front of the Fat Lady, and gasped for breath as you said “ad meliora.” She opened up for you, and you immediately sat in one of the chairs in the Common Room when Iwaizumi bounded down the stairs of the boys dormitory.

He caught you almost immediately. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Ahhh,” You began sheepishly, “I needed to hide away from Oikawa.”

“Why?” Iwaizumi sat down on the chair opposite to you, green eyes piercing your own.

“Bad test grade.”

“So the detentions have become deadly.” Iwaizumi chuckled lowly. “You’re not the only one you know. Oikawa’s been worse than usual too. I can bet he got the same score as you, or maybe even lower.”

“I don’t feel like risking it Hajime.” You groaned. A few seconds of silence followed that. You looked up at Iwaizumi, who seemed to be happily thinking something through. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Nope,” Iwaizumi smiled. “You called me by my first name.”

“Oh shit,” You flushed, feeling the embarrassment set in. “Sorry!”

“Oh hell no.” He laughed. “It’s been long enough. We’ve known each other since first year Y/N. Hell, even I call you by your first name. It’s fine!”

“If you say so Hajime.” You shrugged. “Hmm, actually, that does work. We’ll stick to first names now.”

“That’s the spirit!” Iwaizumi grinned. “So, about those detentions...I kind of got you into them in the first place, so could I offer some advice?”

“Anything. I’m too sleep-deprived.” You admitted.

“After detention the two of you should work on homework and study together. You’re both incredibly smart and already have the bantering thing that you can use to swap ideas. It’d most likely also cut down the time it takes for you to finish. Why not try it?”

“More Oikawa?” You spoke lowly. “He’d hold this over my head for centuries.”

“I think the two of you have too much pride to admit that you need each other’s help.” Iwaizumi leaned deeper into the loveseat. “Just think about it, okay?”

“Fine.” Leaning deeper into the chair, you found yourself on the verge of sleep. “Hmmm, it would be nice to nap here. I bet you Gryffindors do it all the time.”

“I’ll let you test that out after you solve your homework situation.”

“You’re so mean Hajime.” You blinked, gathering your class materials. You didn’t have time to nap, and settled on going to the library to finish Arithmancy homework.

During detention, the two of you had to clean the awards of the school by hand and thankfully, Snape had convinced Filch to spend his time elsewhere, telling them once again that they needed to be responsible.

Oikawa looked worse for wear with his normally styled hair lying messy against his head and dark bags surrounding his eyes. He went an entire hour of detention not even acknowledging you, and you couldn’t even be happy about it because you realized Iwaizumi was right. You just didn’t want to be at his mercy.

“Y/N.” He had said. You turned to face him, ceasing the cleaning you were doing before. “This whole detention thing...well it’s not being kind to my grades. I can only assume that you’re in the same boat as I am.” He bit his lip in thought. “I got a dreadful on the History of Magic test today.”

You felt relief overcome you. So Iwaizumi had been right. Oikawa was suffering just as much as you were. “So did I.” You rasped. “I think we should stop fighting since we need to–”

“Yup, we do.” He finished your sentence for you, thinking exactly what you were thinking before you had even managed to say it. “And I know the perfect place to start.”

After you had both made every plaque in that room shine with your reflections, Oikawa had gestured for you to follow him up the stairs and down a few unknown corridors until you reached the outside of an ordinary looking room.

“Isn’t this just a classroom?” You asked him curiously.

“You’ll see.” He opened the door and gestured for you to come inside when suddenly, you were met with a room filled with an archive of shelves, a coffee table, and holy shit! A COFFEE MAKER.

“Coffee maker.” Was all you managed to get out in your shock. Oikawa regarded you with a confused pout on his face.

“What’s coffee?”

You stared back at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shook his head. “No Y/N, I literally have no clue what that is.”

You felt a smile tug at the corner of your lips, and you let yourself head over to the lovely machine, going through the motions you had desperately missed doing. “It’s a muggle drink that helps to give you a boost of energy and improves your brain function for a while.” You extracted the coffee from the pot and poured it into the two mugs that had magically appeared, adding the extras until both of you had identical cups. “Here you go.”

Oikawa cupped the mug and nodded once before sipping it. His brown eyes shot with excitement when he took another sip. “Y/N...this stuff is amazing.” He whispered in awe. He took another sip and suddenly, Oikawa was smiling a genuine smile ear to ear as he looked at the beverage and back at you. “How have I never heard of this before?”

“Well you were born in a family of all wizards.” You reasoned. “My Dad is a muggle and my Mom is a witch, so I grew up the muggle way until I got that letter. I do miss things like this sometimes.” You cringed. Sharing that much personal information with Oikawa was bound to be disastrous, since he always teased it or used it against you, but this time he listened to you completely. His brown eyes were warm and seemed tired at most.

You realized that maybe Oikawa Tooru wasn’t as bad as you had originally believed.

“My family is all Ravenclaw.” He had said, dragging you to the coffee table. Sitting down, he placed his mug on the top and admired the beverage again before making eye contact with you. “When I was sorted into Slytherin, I had immediately broken years of tradition. I have to compensate for that.”

“Is that always why you’re working in the library at times you should be resting?” You asked him.

He seemed surprised that you knew this. “You noticed?”

“Iwaizumi has told me a few stories. You’re a dumbass if you think that you need to compensate. You already seem like you’re doing enough.”

“And you’d be an ignorant twit if you didn’t realize that you’re working towards something and not giving yourself the credit.” He fired back.

Realizing what they had said to each other, they began laughing. They had never fathomed a day where they’d be able to look each other in the eye and not spit out insults, but to joke around and share core parts of their personalities was another thing altogether.

“Are we only getting along because we’re sleep deprived or because we’re ambitious little shits who need to get work done?” You had asked rhetorically.

Oikawa smirked, but it wasn’t smug. “I’ll have you know that if anyone is a little shit, it’s you, since you can’t even believe that I have the ability to be nice.”

“Don’t blame me! You were an asshole on the train.”

Oikawa had the audacity to look thoroughly shocked. “Well...I was a little ego drunk.”

You almost spit out the coffee you had just sipped at the word choice. “Ego drunk?”

“Well yeah,” He finished the last of his coffee with a contented sigh. “I had never had the attention of so many girls before.”

You rolled your eyes. “Typical. You can really be a cocky bastard sometimes.”

“Like how you can be an insufferable know-it-all.” You took the time to analyze him calmly. He seemed relaxed, although you could tell that his mind was racing with unsaid thoughts. “But it’s never been a bad thing.” He decided to add at the end.

You let yourself chuckle. “I think I’ll clear the air here. I’m sorry for what I said in the li–”

“You were forgiven the moment you sent that note.” He said, absolutely serious. “I was pissed since I’m used to other people saying that sort of stuff, but not you. That note was probably the nicest thing somebody had done to apologize, even though that was a crappy thing to say.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected him to forgive you so easily.

“I’m sorry for anything I’ve said that’s hurt you.” He brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “I got caught up in the–”

“I forgive you.” You allowed yourself to say. “I mean it.”

The two of them sat in silence, contemplating the words they had shared between them.

“Truce?” Oikawa had asked, holding up his hand. “You don’t have to.”

“I will.” Gripping his hand with your own, you shook it gently, ignoring the feel of his calloused palms on yours. “Truce.”

*******

The night after Oikawa and you had called a truce, you had slipped into a routine of sorts. Attend classes, swap notes in between free periods, take care of their Wolfsbane potion, do their own activities, do detention, do homework, repeat.

By introducing each other’s viewpoints into your daily academics, you not only managed to retain even more information, but found yourself getting higher scores again. Oikawa had been overjoyed at the results himself, saying that he had never been quite this successful at Transfiguration since fourth year. However, they had decided to keep the arrangement a secret.

They were Slytherins. Who were they if they didn’t mess with at least one Gryffindor?

“So,” Kuroo had begun saying as you sat at the foot of the tree by the Great Lake, giant squid flailing about. “I’m not hearing much about Oikawa lately. Hell, you don’t even argue in Potions anymore. Did something happen?”

Damn it. He was perceptive.

“The bastard is still a massive pain in the ass.” You had decided on saying. “It’s just that we keep our bickering outside of classrooms now.”

Kuroo rose an eyebrow suggestively. “Hmm. Okay. Make sure the bickering is safe and consensual.”

Oh that bastard–

“Yoo-hoo!” Oikawa called out in his typical fashion. He looked better than normal today for some reason. Maybe he had slept better. He took long strides and plopped down beside you, ignoring Kuroo’s clearly shocked face. “How have you been Y/N?”

“I’ve been better.” You responded, fighting the urge to point wildly in Kuroo’s direction. “Did you add the myrrh to the Wolfsbane? I already stirred it counterclockwise yesterday, and it began transforming into a somewhat blue-ish looking color.”

“Yeah, I saw that when I was adding the myrrh. Good job.”

“Wait wait wait, HOLD UP!” Kuroo had burst, not able to contain himself. “Did you two just have a CIVIL conversation?”

“Uhh, yes?” Oikawa shrugged. “Why is it so surprising?” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him wink with his left eye. Ahh. He wanted to spill the secret.

“Because you guys are rivals! You’ve never gone more than two minutes without arguing, and now you’re telling me that you’re being civil?!” Kuroo ranted. “HOW?”

“Oikawa is my study buddy.” You smiled as you poked his shoulder. It had been an innocent comment, but like the pervert he was, Kuroo’s face deviated into the smug smirk you knew so well.

However, Oikawa’s fangirls that had been walking by said something first.

“Hey, Yuki. Y/L/N and Oikawa are study buddies now.” A girl whispered to her friend.

“Oh? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. They’ve always had this super crazy chemistry. I guess the banter’s just as good in bed.”

Oikawa and you simultaneously choked while Kuroo laughed, sending a wink at the two girls.

“We ONLY study!” You buried your head in your arms, begging the burning embarrassment on your face to subside.

“Are you sure about that?” Oikawa had said lowly, but still loud enough for Kuroo to hear. “We have done some other things.”

“Fuck you.” You mumbled, head still in your arms.

“How about we do that a little later?”

You groaned yet again as Oikawa and Kuroo erupted into a laughing fit so loud, you were worried they were going to suffocate. Raising your head from your arms, you had a view of both of their faces, breathless from laughter. “Cut it out you pigs.”

“No….way!” Oikawa gasped. “You’re too fun to rile up.” You giggled at his antics.

“Oikawa. We should get going if we want to finish the fifteen-inch parchment essay on the fidelius charm.” Grabbing your books, you headed towards the castle, turning back to see Oikawa telling Kuroo something and jogging to catch up with you.

After detention, they had sat at the coffee table in the Room of Requirement (as Oikawa had called it) and sipped their iced lattes as they played hangman on a sheet of paper.

“Oikawa!” You playfully scolded. “What obscure phrase in your mind is so embarrassing that you won’t let me find it out the normal way?”

“It’s no fun if you don’t guess the entire phrase at once.” Oikawa pouted. “Muggle games need to be amped for intensity.”

“You’ve been using those types of words all day.” You murmured. Wait. “Is it ‘I will make you cheer for me at the Quidditch Cup tomorrow and you will wear my scarf?’”

“Spot on!” Oikawa grinned as he drew a large smiley face on the paper. “I still remember how you said that you wouldn’t cheer for me in a million years. I guess I can make you now.”

“Scarf?”

“I’ll hand it to you before the match.” He looked serious, and you were touched by the gesture.

“I was only joking about that.”

“I wanted to give it to you anyway.” He mumbled, shoving his flushed cheeks behind his palm. Regaining his composure, he re-emerged. “We’re playing against Ravenclaw in the first round, and I have to show my parents that being on Slytherin doesn’t make me any less of a player. We were known for fouling a lot back then, but nobody on our team now would dare.” He took a deep breath, looking into your eyes with some sparkle of hope. “What I’m trying to get at is that I’d feel a lot better seeing you in my scarf.”

You found your face heating up at the statement. “I’ll wear your scarf, but no guarantees about the cheering thing.”

“You being there is enough for me.” He smiled. “Besides, your teasing is probably going to wind up being more motivational than the cheesy stuff the fangirls come up with.”

You hesitantly reached to brush a lock of his hair out of his eyes, watching him marginally freeze because of the contact. “I don’t know how that didn’t tickle your eyelid.” You shrugged, “And did something happen? You’re being flirty. You know it–”

“Doesn’t work on you, believe me, third-year you drilled it into my head.” He sighed. “I’m just in a good mood.”

“You better keep that mood until tomorrow.” You teased. “The Grand King must please his royal subjects.”

“Cut that out!” He laughed.

“Well, it looks late. You think we should just conjure some beds and camp out?” You suggested. It was the safest option considering the looming tendencies of Filch and also seemed like the best option so he could get the right amount of rest before the game. Oikawa nodded as he rolled into the plush bed that the room had created.

“Don’t roll into my bed at night, Buttercup.”

You sighed “I would never.”

“Yeah…never.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Go to sleep Oikawa.”

Sleep had never been so rewarding.

The next morning, you woke up refreshed and were able to quickly get through your morning routine. However, when you came back, you were met with the sight of Oikawa manning the coffee machine. Once he caught sight of you, he smiled gently.

“Morning Y/N.” He greeted, handing you a cup of whatever type of coffee he had decided on. Taking a sip, you were shocked to find the same exact coffee you had prepared the night they had made their truce. It was….amazing.

“Holy shit, this is so good.” You praised. “Good morning to you too.” Oikawa was dressed and freshened up, seeming thoroughly awake. “What time is it?”

Oikawa looked for a clock in the room until he found one. “Ahh...it’s 7:25. We should head to the Great Hall.”

Finishing their last sip of coffee, they set the mugs down on the coffee table and began their walk to the Great Hall, marveling at the general silence of the usually bustling castle. A look outside showed absolutely horrid weather with the rain coming down faster by the second. Oikawa looked pleased with this.

“This weather seems awful.” You remarked casually as you sat at the Slytherin table. “Why do you look so excited?”

“Because I had the team do drills like this.” He reasoned. “We’re more than used to playing in watery conditions. I’m only worried about visibility at this point.”

“Alright.” You grinned. “Do what you do best Oikawa.” He grinned back.

The Quidditch Pitch was no longer as rainy as it had been during breakfast, but it still thundered occasionally as the fog enveloped the area. Oikawa had been right to worry about visibility. You could barely see the bleachers at the other side of the pitch, and the rain didn’t make anything easier. The Slytherin team had emerged from one side of the field, looking decently professional with Oikawa at the front. You could vaguely see him clutching something to him as he walked, as the girls around you screamed when he looked in your general direction.

“Y/N!” He hollered, gesturing for you to come down to where he was. You smirked as you ran down to meet him, the girls around you being disappointed that they weren’t the ones acknowledged. He was taller than you by a good amount, and while you never let that bother you before, standing in front of him now made you feel a bit small. However, you could finally see what he was holding. The scarf.

“Hi again.” You smiled.

“Hey,” He exhaled. “I told you I would.” He took the green and silver striped scarf and gently slung it around your neck. It was warm, comforting, and even smelled like a mix of pine and lavender. You were never going to tell him anything about that.

You made eye contact with a genuine smile on your face. “Thanks.”

His eyes flashed mischievously in response. Uh oh. “So, where’s my goodluck kiss?” He asked. “I did technically give you my good luck charm, so I’ll need something lucky in return.”

You kissed your fingertips lightly before placing them on his cheek. “Do well out there idiot.” He could only watch as you laughed and found a seat on the bleachers as the teams were called to the center of the field to play. However, what caught your eye was Oikawa’s disgruntled expression as he fought with the Ravenclaw captain, who had olive-brown hair and broad shoulders.

“Who’s that?” The girl behind you had asked into the crowd. “And why is Oikawa so mad? He’s better than the entire Ravenclaw team.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You looked beside you to see a tall blond haired boy with glasses, staring intently at the field. “That would be Ushijima Wakatoshi. He’s a skilled chaser and has somehow always managed to keep Oikawa from catching the snitch in previous matches, despite the fact that he can’t even do anything directly to him. Raveclaw also has Kageyama Tobio, an academic idiot but a tactical genius when it comes to the game.”

“Oh! Kageyama is Ravenclaw’s seeker, right?” The girl said.

“That’s correct.” The blond haired boy had said. “It’s so unfortunate that he’s on Ravenclaw. It demolishes the entire reputation of the house for being clever, even if he is a magnificent seeker.”

“What do you have against him?” You had questioned. “And how come I’ve never heard of this? Oikawa’s conflicts are always front and center.”

“Ah,” The boy turned towards you, eyes golden and analyzing. “You’re Y/L/N Y/N, aren’t you? Do you really think your rival would give you the names of his other rivals? You could team up with them.”

“I prefer to fly solo.” You said cooly. “Who even are you?”

“Tsukishima Kei. Fourth year.” He introduced himself calmly. “Kageyama is in my classes. I despise him. Always so reckless. He should have been Gryffindor.”

“You seem to have a very set idea of what Ravenclaw should be like.” You insisted. “Otherwise you really wouldn’t care so much.”

“I know people on the Ravenclaw team.” Tsukishima shot back. “And they have difficulty controlling the King of the Court.”

They called Kageyama “the King of the Court”? Suddenly, Oikawa’s aggression towards Ravenclaw made sense. It wasn’t JUST his parents. It was the fact that Kageyama, a full two years younger, was a splendid seeker and on the house that Oikawa’s parents expected him to be in. It was Ushijima Wakatoshi’s chasing skills that put all of Oikawa’s persistence to shame. It was all these Ravenclaws pitted against the one Slytherin who wanted to succeed more than anything.

That was a gut-wrenching revelation.

The game started with a whistle, and suddenly everyone was in the air, in position, and ready to play. Hanamaki and Matsukawa frantically passed the quaffle to each other with Hanamaki shooting it through the hoop of the Ravenclaw side, effectively beating their Keeper. Ten points to Slytherin!

Their house cheered but quieted down when Ushijima weaved expertly through the players, narrowly avoiding a bludger from one of their beaters, and scored, earning points for Ravenclaw. Looking up, you could see the desperation on Oikawa’s face.

He flew upwards, trying to gain a large view of the field when suddenly, he dived, attracting the attention of Kageyama, who began to tail him. It was a race of speed and skill as Oikawa suddenly pulled up from the dive, narrowly missing Kageyama (who managed to save himself in time). A feint!!!

Slytherin yelled in praise as Ravenclaw cheered for Kageyama’s save. The Gryffindors were on the edge of their seats, and groaned when a beater nearly knocked Matsukawa off his broom. The Hufflepuffs on the other hand were cheering loudly as Ushijima sent yet another quaffle through their hoops.

Kageyama gritted his teeth as he tried to find Oikawa within the mix of players, finding him not even a minute later by the Gryffindors. The two of them frantically zoomed around the pitch, the sheer intensity of it sending shivers down your spine. The rain poured even harder, and one of the other chasers, a Ravenclaw named Akaashi Keiji had the quaffle slip from his hands before it was saved by Matsukawa.

You caught sight of a fleck of gold near the Hufflepuffs and it seemed like the Gryffindors did too before they all started yelling. “THE SNITCH!”

Oikawa had dashed towards the Hufflepuff bleachers so quickly as Kageyama followed behind. The two of them were neck and neck, changing their direction as the snitch constantly eluded them. You could vaguely hear Iwaizumi yelling “SHITTYKAWA, GO FASTER!” and found yourself gripping his scarf even harder.

He was almost there, his arm reaching, fingers grasping around the snitch, when suddenly, a bludger from Ravenclaw beater Aone Takanobu slammed straight into Oikawa’s broom, sending him free-falling.

Madam Hooch promptly screamed “Arresto momentum!” into the thundering skies, and Oikawa was saved from the fall, breathing still panicked, eyes widened. However, that wasn’t the only thing he seemed to panic about. Turning your glance, you saw Kageyama’s hand gripped firmly around the snitch, the Ravenclaws erupting in a bellowing cheer.

They had lost.

You immediately sprinted off the bleachers towards Oikawa, who was surrounded by teachers, as well by Kuroo and Iwaizumi while he was being examined for injuries. He looked so broken, that you felt your eyes burn at the sight of him.

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi said, voice unwavering. “You were extraordinary out there. That situation was out of your control.”

“I should have been a second faster.” He growled, the storm in his eyes more intense than the one they were currently in. “I was almost there. I should have gripped it harder. DAMN IT!”

“Oikawa, that wasn’t your fault! Kageyama needed your guidance to catch that damn thing in the first place!” Kuroo argued.

“But he still caught it!” Oikawa groaned. “We could have won. I screwed it up for everyone.”

“Captain,” Hanamaki yelled, running towards him. “That was an amazing game we played out there. That bludger was uncalled for.”

“No Makki.” He said, his voice strained. “You guys played an amazing game out there. You gave Ushiwaka a run for his money.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I just couldn’t beat them.”

The thunder was almost deafening as the teachers agreed that Oikawa was uninjured, and they walked away, leaving just them.

“Oikawa,” You said in almost a whisper. You crouched to meet him on the floor, his face set in stony impassiveness. “You were astonishing out there. I mean it,”

He looked at you, clearly trying to disguise the torment he was feeling on the inside. “I still wasn’t enough, Y/N.” He rapidly blinked his eyes. “I...wasn’t....enough.”

“Oikawa, that bludger wasn’t your fault. You were–”

“I should have practiced more.” He rasped. “I should have prepared for that situation. I should have spent more time at practice and less time doing anything else!”

“And overworked yourself?” You heard yourself ask incredulously. “How would that have helped anyone?”

“It would have at least meant our team had the chance to go play in the next round!” He groaned. “God, I should have spent less time with you in the Room of Requirement. Maybe then I would have been able to catch that damn snitch.”

“What does this have to do with me?” You asked, voice cold.

“You were a distraction.”

“So you’re saying that if you could, you’d undo that truce just so you could practice more?” You felt a sharp pain in your chest at the thought.

Oikawa glared at you. “In a heartbeat.”

You felt your heart clench terribly at the statement. Every second of laughter, every late-night discussion, every game of hangman played over different types of coffee...was a distraction? All the time they spent together was merely a hindrance?

“Fine.” You said, removing his scarf. “We don’t even have to be rivals. We can be nothing. I won’t be bothering you anymore.” You got up, walking away promptly, begging the burning sensation in your eyes to subside. He had never meant anything.

“Y/N wait!” He had called out, maybe realizing what he had said. You ignored him, sprinting off the pitch. You didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

It seemed that fate was cruel to its subjects. It always seemed that way.

The next few days went on monotonously. You rose at the appropriate time for your classes, did all your homework in the library alone, and did your job at detention. Ignoring Oikawa was difficult.

He was an ever-present source of something in your life, whether it was misery or laughter, and the sudden absence of it was almost melancholy. You had realized that maybe the reason it hurt so much more was that you had begun to see a different side to the boy. The side that was funny and teasing, considerate and charming. You began to see what it was like when he was fond of someone.

You used to think he was fond of you.

Before you had even realized it, the Wolfsbane potion had been brewed to its completion, and much to the surprise of Snape and the rest of the class, it was perfect. You resisted the urge to grin at Oikawa, or yell “We did it!” because that’s what friends would do, and the two of them were nothing.

Detention had also been served and Snape commended their diligence before you walked out of his office, ignoring the pained look in Oikawa’s eyes as you sped past him, not even acknowledging his existence. You didn’t consider yourself to be particularly emotional, but you didn’t enjoy being used. That was where you drew the line.

You couldn’t sleep that night. You had been attempting to toss and turn for the better of two hours and found yourself wide awake and plagued with thoughts you didn’t want to have. You had realized over the past few days that you had certainly felt something for the brunette, otherwise, he wouldn't have been on your mind as often. Slipping on a pair of shoes, you wandered aimlessly through the castle before somehow landing in front of a familiar door.

“Get my mind off that prick.” You whispered, before opening the door.

The last thing you would have expected was to see said prick, asleep across the coffee table with a thick pile of paper around him. They were scattered all around the room, some listing quidditch strategies against….Gryffindor?

Right. Hufflepuff had lost to Ravenclaw in the first round, which was why Slytherin had to play Ravenclaw in the match a few days earlier. Gryffindor must have beaten Ravenclaw in the third round, and Slytherin must have beaten Hufflepuff to get back in the game. That meant the final round tomorrow was against Gryffindor.

Those weren’t the only types of parchment. Every now and then, there was a giant “I’m Sorry” written in the loopy cursive you knew so well. You had no idea who he was apologizing too.

Suddenly, the steady breathing that had been filling the room before stopped. You frantically turned towards the boy, shaking him gently.

“Oikawa.” You said, shaking him a little harder. “Oikawa. Get up.” When he didn’t respond, you began to check his pulse. The faint thrumming against your thumb only managed to panic you further. “Damn it!” You pulled out your wand, but realized you knew no spell to revive him quickly, considering he hadn’t been hit with any spell prior. You shook him one last time, tears running down your face. “Tooru!”

He flickered his eyes open, his eyes hazy and bloodshot. He had been awake, working or crying. Upon seeing you, his eyes softened into a look so fond that it unsettled you. He sat upwards, rubbing his eyes before he said anything. “Y/N.” He whispered, as if he didn’t believe it. “Is that actually you? Or am I dreaming again?”

He had been dreaming of you?

You walked over and made eye contact with him for the first time in days. “You’re not dreaming. I’ll get goi–”

“No!” He yelled, gripping your wrist. “Please stay. Please.” The look in his eyes was so desperate that you sat down across him, moving some of the parchment out of the way so his face wasn’t obscured. He sat up straight, before adjusting his hair slightly.

“I think you collapsed.” You breathed out, still shaken from his limp form a few minutes earlier. “I was so afraid.”

He hesitantly gripped your hand. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” The look in his eyes was earnest. “I’m sorry for telling you that I would have wrecked that truce in a heartbeat. God, that wasn’t true at all!” He let out a shaky exhale before he let his eyes flicker all over your face as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he looked away. “I missed you more than you could have ever imagined. I let my insecurities and torment push you away. I’m so sorry, I’m sor–”

“It’s okay Tooru.” You sighed, relief and comfort encompassing you. You had never meant to forgive him this easily, but the genuineness of his apology struck something within you. His face morphed into a face of disbelieving,

“You forgive me?” His eyes glittered with hopefulness. “You..”

“Yeah. I guess I do.” You smiled.

Oikawa’s face immediately burst into an expression of pure happiness and he squeezed your hand harder. He was glowing and a part of you realized just how much you missed seeing him. “I think I have a bit of explaining to do.” He almost giggled. “I’m so sorry. I’m just reli–”

You chuckled lightly. “Me too.”

He didn’t let go of your hand as he pushed a jar of ink away. “Two months ago, you found Iwa and I fighting in the corridor.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not–”

“Nope,” He grinned. “You deserve to know. Iwa took away my last vial of Wideye Potion. I used to use it almost three times a week to stay awake and practice, or study. It was the only way I could work without falling asleep or collapsing. Him taking my last vial took away any chances of me doing those things naturally. That’s why I resorted to magic.”

All of a sudden, everything clicked into place. “That’s why you were always yawning during detention and needed Hajime to pull you out of the library.”

Oikawa nodded. “Yeah, he always had to keep me in check. That was until you came along.”

“Oh,” Was all you managed to get out before Oikawa began rubbing circles onto your hand.

He looked around the room before his eyes landed on the clock. “It’s already 3:00 a.m. You don’t have to, but could you stay here and just sleep with me? I haven’t been able to sleep for the past week.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We just resolved our conflict and you already want to sleep with me? I didn’t think you’d be someone of that sort, Oikawa.”

He blushed almost instantly. “Ugh, that’s not what I meant.” He placed his hands on his cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. “Tooru.”

“What?” You asked.

He looked back up at you, more composed now. “Call me Tooru.”

“But that’s your firs–”

“I’ve been calling you your first name forever,” He laughed. “Besides, my first name sounds much better when you say it.”

It was your turn to blush, the heat filling your cheeks. “You flirty menace.” You chuckled as you lied down on the mattress the room had provided. He only smiled from his own bed as the two of you fell asleep.

Maybe fate’s cruelties led to something a lot sweeter.

The Great Hall buzzed with anticipation before the final round of the Interhouse Tournament. Everywhere you looked, you could see the smiling faces of the players, as well as the competitive glances between Snape and McGonagall. The weather today was gorgeous with clear skies and the sun offering the perfect amount of warmth. It was the ideal condition to play, and you were excited for the turn-out.

During breakfast, you had flounced over to the Gryffindor table, waving hello to Iwaizumi and Kuroo. Iwaizumi had moved over so you could sit next to him.

“So,” Kuroo began. “Are you going to wish us good luck and hope for our victory?”

“Not a chance Tetsu.” You responded. Turning to Iwaizumi, you smiled. “Captain, I wish your team the best of luck in not falling off your brooms when your team faces mine.”

Iwaizumi’s face contorted into a playfully challenging glare. “Oh, you’re on!” You slapped him on the back as you headed back to your table, accidentally slamming into someone on the way.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You said, only to be met with the hazel eyes of Sugawara Koushi.

“It’s okay Y/N. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” He asked good-naturedly.

“It has Koushi, hasn’t it.” The two of you began walking down the length of the hall. “I heard about the match against Slytherin. I’m sorry about Hufflepuff losing.”

Sugawara was still all smiles. “I think it was a good game all in all. Oikawa is no joke as a seeker when he’s focused.”

“Tell me about it.” You said, rolling your eyes. “Last night I found him sketching-out strategies and he actually passed out. His work is already impeccable, but he always goes the extra mile.”

“Ahh, so the rumors are true,” Sugawara smirked mischievously. “Who would’ve thought.”

“What rumors?” You asked before you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around, you saw Oikawa clutching a glass of pumpkin juice. “Oh, hi Tooru.”

“Hey there, Y/N.” Instead of the usual smile or cheeky wink you usually got when he greeted you, you found his eyes in the calculating gaze you knew so well but directed at Sugawara. “Hello there Sugawara.”

Sugawara’s smirk changed into a knowing smile. “Morning to you too Oikawa. Best of luck in the tournament.”

You stepped off to the side to see Oikawa’s expression, but it was still guarded, the gears in his mind shifting as he put on a charming smile. “Thank you. We’ll do our best.” He then gently grabbed your arm and dragged you back to the Slytherin table.

“What was that?” You asked him as he sat across you, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. “You weren’t jealous, were you?”

“Nope,” He smiled, his eyes still full of the fondness you had found from last night. “You two looked awfully chummy.”

“You’re definitely jealous then.” You winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t jealous!” He pouted.

“You were!”

“Was not!”

“Y/L/N, Oikawa, get a room already!” Hanamaki yelled from the other side of the table. “This sexual tension is not appropriate for the Great Hall.

All the students laughed as Oikawa and you blushed.

The Quidditch pitch continued to be the source of much excitement as all the houses waited for the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams to emerge from the opposite sides of the field. The air was electric with excitement, and you could feel the nerves building up in your stomach.

Gryffindor began their walk onto the field, Iwaizumi and Kuroo attracting the most cheers as they strutted down the pitch. They both looked to you, and you shot them a thumbs up as they assembled near the center.

The Slytherin team appeared not even a minute after, and the air was filled with loud cheers for Oikawa as he jogged onto the field, not missing to throw a wink your way. Cheeky gremlin. Iwaizumi and Oikawa met at the center and to some of the students’ surprise began joking around, wishing each other good luck after shaking hands.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and they were in the air, a thundering cheer as they rose. Almost immediately, the quaffle was thrown back and forth between the two teams, the red and green jerseys clashing almost artfully as each fought for possession. Kuroo threw the quaffle through the Slytherin hoops, earning points for Gryffindor, the audible sighs of his fangirls heard all around the stadium.

Looking at Oikawa, you could see that the expression on his face was different...happy when he rose up on his broom to scour the stadium. In a flash, he began to dive, spotting the fleck of gold that was near the base of the pitch. The Gryffindor seeker by the name of Koganegawa Kanji blindly followed Oikawa into the dive but decided to turn when Oikawa hurtled straight near the ground, expecting a feint.

It wasn’t a feint.

Oikawa pulled out of the dive, snitch golden and fluttering against his hand with the widest, most amazing, grin on his face. Registering the victory, you stood with the rest of the houses and cheered as loudly as you could while the Gryffindors laughed at the short duration of the game.

You were running down to the pitch before you could even control yourself, and Oikawa was off his broom before anyone could even realize. The two of you raced towards each other, happy laughter coming out of the both of you.

“Y/N!” He yelled out with a wide and happy grin.

“Tooru, you did it, you beautiful bastard!” You laughed as he lifted you up and spun you around. It felt like it was just the two of you there when he put you down, looking deeply into your eyes.

“I guess we did, didn’t we.” He smiled boyishly. So engrossed in each other, they didn’t realize how the stadium had gone silent with the affection they had just witnessed. Hanamaki grinned deviously as Kuroo and Iwaizumi signaled to the other half of the stadium.

They all used their fingers to signal the countdown.

Three...two….one!

“OIKAWA!” The stadium bellowed at the top of their lungs. “JUST CONFESS AND KISS ALREADY!”

Oikawa was shaken from the sheer noise of it all, his face changing to a bright red realizing the words.

Confess? Did that mean…?

“Uhhhh Y/N.” He chuckled nervously. “You...you’ve been there for me during some of the toughest times of my life and got me through detentions and late nights. You always know what to say to me to get me to feel like an actual Grand King, and it always feels like I’ve conquered a kingdom whenever I see you smile. So...I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you. A part of me thinks I always have.”

You felt the warmth bubble within you like your face split into the widest smile you’ve ever smiled. “Tooru. I love you too!” The stadium cheered as the two of them hugged, the feelings of relief, warmth, and comfort surrounding them.

When they pulled away, he looked at the ground shyly. “I...brought the scarf...would you–”

“Of course idiot,” You sighed. “That’s not even a question.” He pulled out the scarf, slinging it around your neck just as gently as he had done the first time, except this time the stadium was silent with anticipation.

“God, I’m so happy I could kiss you.” You admitted.

“So then why don’t you?” He teased.

So you did, leaning in and pressing your lips to his almost gently. You weren’t prepared for how soft his lips were, or how nice it felt to be able to put all your feelings into an action so delicate. You also weren’t prepared for the way he kissed you back, almost hesitantly as he poured in all the tension they had felt for weeks around each other.

The cheers of the stadium were audible as you pulled away, blushing. Kuroo and Iwaizumi gave you a thumbs up as Hanamaki clapped his captain on the back.

“God, maybe we’ve spellbound each other from the start.” Oikawa smiled.

“Maybe we did.” You laughed.

*******

spell·bound

verb

held the complete attention of (someone) as though by magic; fascinated

©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited

the delicate line between friends and lovers ft. alhaitham — in which the akademiya’s scribe and the bimarstan’s head nurse develop some serious feelings for each other in between hook ups. evidently, neither of them are very good at being able to communicate these feelings, though.

contains: 14.0k word count ; female reader ; explicit content—not suitable for minors ; fwb to lovers ; mutual pining ; banter and teasing ; angst with happy ending (this one goes out to all the girls who wonder if their fav would choose them: they would!) ; reader is the (very overworked) head nurse at the bimarstan ; mentions of blood and injuries (alhaitham) ; reader has insecurities ; jealousy ; dry humping—and kaveh being a major cockblock unfortunately ; alcohol drinking—4ggravate (minus alhaitham) appearance! ; clothed sex ; unprotected vaginal sex ; no prep ; creampie

the akademiya is well connected in its networks. meaning one thing: gossip travels fast. against his will, alhaitham learns far more about people than he wants to, details upon details that travel even through his soundproof earpieces at times. 

today, for example, he learns without meaning to that the akademiya has decreased the previously approved funding for the bimarstan. this piece of information is able to irritate him enough that he almost itches to demand for the title of acting grand sage once more. sumeru, a nation of free healthcare, couldn’t possibly hope to underfund one of the pillars of the citizens and their well-being. not unless someone who’s as incapable and underdeveloped in critical thinking as the last grand sage himself (before alhaitham, of course) was in office. 

he walks to the bimarstan, footsteps heavy in the dead quiet of the night as he trudges through the door of the hospital. you’re already there to greet him, eyeing the way the arm under his cloak is tense and curled under the fabric. 

“another eremite attack?” you murmur, walking towards an empty room as you gaze at him over your shoulder to follow.

he does so wordlessly, eyeing the tired, overworked, and disarrayed nurses along the hospital as he walks past them. 

you’re no different, he studies, watching as you stifle a yawn, taking in the darkened circles under your eyes as he sits on an examination table while you bring out the necessary supplies to clean his wound. 

the akademiya—no, sumeru was blooming under his lead. that much he was aware of. you’d said it yourself, too, the first time he came. 

oh, it’s you! we’re most grateful for your changes, acting grand sage, you’d smiled at him, they’ve really helped improve things here at the bimarstan.

he wasn’t expecting that. the only reason why he’d stopped at the hospital for care instead of going home was because he’d run out of bandages, nothing more. one look at you had all but changed that, the tilt of your lips as they smile spinning his world on its axis in a completely new direction. you tend to his cuts that night, and even though he’d told himself he wouldn’t, he returns after the next expedition. 

and the next. and the next. and then it becomes routine. 

for a while, alhaitham told himself he only came to the hospital for his wounds instead of patching himself up after long expeditions in the desert because it was nice to see how the bimarstan ran. it’s important for him to be aware of necessary changes that must be made as acting grand sage—however temporary the job may be, he has every intention of doing it properly. so he studies and assesses the functionality of the hospital and makes decisions accordingly. those things can only happen if he visits frequently. 

but then he starts to notice that his feet truly only carry him here on the nights you work. though you work often and late into the night, too. being head nurse requires as much, of course, but he notices all too quickly that he’s begun to memorize your schedule. 

slowly but surely, he resigns himself to fate. he comes for you. 

“it’s just a light graze,” he mumbles after some time, revealing the small gash on his arm under his cloak. your eyebrows crinkle in concern for a moment before you set off to work, methodically and expertly cleaning away at the dried blood and disinfecting the wound. 

he doesn’t talk for a while before he finally says, “you’re short-staffed.”

it’s a question presented as an observation—he has a habit of doing that, of speaking his mind and waiting for an explanation to follow. 

you sigh, bandaging his arm as you murmur, “people are quitting. it’s been hectic in here—and the funding cut doesn’t exactly allow for a pay that seems worth the grueling hours.”

you love your job. it’s the first thing alhaitham knows about you. you take it very seriously, scolding anyone, even the acting grand sage, about proper care and healthy habits. 

did you stitch these yourself? you’d gasped when you first noticed the scars on his chest, that’s dangerous! do you know the infections you could contract from an improperly tended wound?”

it’s not as amusing now to watch the other nurses listen awkwardly as you scold him. he’s back to being the scribe, no longer tied to the title of sage. the nurses aren’t as alarmed anymore by your lack of formality—although, he’s sure by now, they’re a bit used to it too. 

“and i assume you’re not resting properly?” he gives you a knowing look, reaching forward with his free hand and brushing a callused but gentle thumb under your bruised eyebags. 

you close your eyes at the fleeting touch, humming before giving him a guilty smile. 

“i can’t let things get out of hand here.”

“you should take your own advice,” he snorts, “what was it again? something about proper rest and sleep to ensure a healthy lifestyle?”

“if you’re here to throw my words back in my face, i recall also mentioning getting into less trouble,” you huff, momentarily glaring at his arm before meeting his eyes. “what happened to being more careful?”

“like i said,” he shrugs, hissing slightly when you press on his wound to prove your point, “it’s just a graze.”

you and alhaitham are, no doubt, an unexpected match—if you can call yourselves that, even. it’s a complicated relationship you share, you and the former grand sage turned scribe. 

you patch him up late at night one day, and he so chivalrously accompanies you on your walk home after your shift. that’s all it was supposed to be…but, well, things are never as simple as sticking to the original plan. 

you invite him in for drinks, he accepts, you clumsily trip on your rug, he catches you swiftly, and somehow, in the mix, both of your lips end up meeting in the most heated kiss you’ve ever shared with someone. clothes are easy enough to shed, and stumbling to your bedroom is hardly complicated, and in a far from ideal turn of events, you sleep with the akademiya’s scribe. 

multiple times, in fact. 

by now, his visits to the bimarstan to see you are as frequent as your visits to his house to see him. the only difference is that his visits tend to be for medical reasons, and yours are…personal to say the least. it’s, of course, as these arrangements tend to go, one that’s strictly physical. 

being physically involved with a patient is scandalous enough, but romantic involvement would be nothing short of unethical. and he’s not a very romantically inclined individual anyway, so not toeing the line of something more is easy enough for the both of you. 

still, you’re quite fond of him—he’s funny when he wants to be and a gentleman underneath the blunt responses and straightforward remarks. you like to consider him as a good friend. one who knows your body a bit too well than most friends should, but a good friend nonetheless. 

you look at him unimpressed as you finish tending to his wound, scoffing and rolling your eyes as you point out, “you’d call it a graze even if your arm was dangling off the bone.”

that gets a chuckle out of him, his head tilting up as he looks at you. if you weren’t in a hospital with your work attire, this would feel oddly domestic: cleaning tenderly at his wounds as he looks at you softly. 

you and alhaitham never toe the line of something more, but you do take steps dangerously close sometimes. 

“when do you finish your shift?” he asks, voice a low rumble. 

“now,” you grin, giving him a mock glare as you add, “you have me working past the clock.”

“let me walk you home, then.” he’d do it anyway, regardless of whether or not you accept. still, you never turn him away. 

“how kind of you,” you say sarcastically—you know better than he does what he means, what he wants, and you can’t exactly say you don’t want it yourself. 

“i can be rather giving when i want,” he shrugs. 

“oh, yes,” you snort, “quite the giver.” the grin he sends you is nothing short of fond. 

the line blurs a little like it’s been drawn in the sand, grains carried away by the wind and leaving the faintest trace of the border you draw. somehow, even though you shouldn’t, you step closer to it, just at the edge. 

but it’s never enough to cross it. 

“am i?” he muses, “i’m glad you think so.”

“you know, most people would believe you talk too little. but i think you talk too much.”

his cloak falls back in place over his arm as he stands, lips curled in a rare smile—well, rare to anyone other than you, that is. he walks out, and you follow.

it almost feels like you're getting closer and closer to stumbling past the line against your will every day. 

——————————

alhaitham knows your home well. well enough that he knows to drop his cloak in the basket you keep for laundry so you can wash away the blood soaked into the fabric for him. 

is it normal to do the laundry of your fuck buddy? you’re not even sure. it’s not like you’d ask anyone, anyway. 

but it doesn’t matter—not when his lips find yours before you can think about it too much. it’s a slow kiss. he’s good with his mouth in more ways than one—good at kissing, good at pleasing, and he’s even good at talking. he’s a linguist, anyway, so it only makes sense. 

“eager,” you murmur in between kisses, nipping at his lips as he shivers. “did you miss me that badly in the desert?”

“of course,” he rasps, gently guiding you to fall back against your bed, his hand cupping the back of your head like you’re fragile as glass, “eremites don’t have as enticing of a touch as you do.”

“maybe if you ask nicely, they’ll be less rough with you,” you wiggle your brows, giggling.

he clicks his teeth, angling your jaw to trail kisses along the slant of it as his hands travel to your hips, gently rubbing the bare skin of your hips under your shirt. you hum appreciatively, closing your eyes and sighing at the soothing feeling of his warm palms seeping heat into your skin. your fingers thread into his hair, tangling into the locks for some sort of means to hold on and ground yourself. 

it’s like warm drizzles of syrup, his touch sinking into you as you absorb his sweetness. 

“and why would i need that when this is far better?”

every word alhaitham alhaitham says is punctuated with the warmth of his lips pressed into your skin. it’s almost soothing—he feels calming. it doesn’t feel heated, not the passionate kind that kindles something carnal in you. 

it feels warm, the soft and gentle kind that makes everything feel a bit lighter. a bit cozier. something more homely in this house of yours. 

“mhm,” you hum, your fingers slowly slipping from his hair as they fall to his shoulders, barely holding him in place as your eyes remain shut. it’s soothing, everything about him. enough that you don’t even realize you’re dozing off until he chuckles. 

“did i bore you into sleep?” he pecks your cheek. 

“no,” you tug your eyelids apart, giving him a sheepish grin, “sorry, you’re just warm.”

“oh yeah?” he grins, amused. he’s climbing off of you, much to your dismay, making a soft whine run past your lips as your hands chase him. 

he’s quick to replace the lack of him, though, planting himself beside you as he pulls you into his chest. 

cuddling isn’t new for the two of you. usually, it’s a post-coital activity, though—you start to think alhaitham is just as bad at drawing a clear line in the sand as you. he’s gentle as he pulls your covers over you, pressing one more kiss to your head before he sighs and relaxes. 

“i’m not tired,” you protest weakly. 

“no, you’re not,” he agrees to satisfy you, eyeing your drooping eyes knowingly. “i am, though. it’s been a long trip.”

“right,” you nod, humming. “weak.”

he rolls his eyes, though fondly—you barely make out the action through your half lidded eyes as you glance at him one last look before your eyes force themselves shut. he’s warm, smells like that spicy hint of harra fruit in his cologne, and feels painfully safe when he lets you curl into his strong arm as it wraps around you. 

normal people don’t cuddle when they’re just fucking like this—you and alhaitham are anything but normal. it’s a mutual sort of agreement, though. you allow the small domestic tendencies to slip past the line, only to let the shore wash it away from the sand. 

it never stays for long, this feeling of intimacy. real intimacy, the kind that’s far more personal than seeing each other nude and feeling each other at your rawest. the kind where you both fall asleep beside each other, tangled, safe, warm, trusted. 

but you’re just friends. you think. you can’t afford to be anything more—alhaitham isn’t the sort of man to grant you something like that. you’re sure of that. he’s kind, good natured, even. but there’s not one romantically inclined bone in his body—you’ve seen it yourself. 

he’s rejected one too many brave women with her heart on her sleeve. never cruelly, but always definitively. 

sleep doesn’t let you think about it all for too long. you resign yourself to a peaceful slumber beside him, breath slowly evening out as he rubs the small of your back. 

and, when morning comes and you awaken, you don’t think about it for too long then, either. because he’s gone. because, of course, he wouldn’t stay—not when this is physical and nothing more.

you’re not disappointed, you think. you’re aware of the nature of things. and he’s a gentleman, as always, leaving you a note on your bedside. 

i had to file some reports from my expedition. i believe i’ll be needing my cloak back. 

you chuckle, shaking your head. it’s an invitation—bring me my cloak, and we’ll finish what we started. 

it’s how things are with you and alhaitham. you do his laundry with yours, he walks you home and forces you to rest, and sometimes, you happen to partake in some debauchery in the process. there’s nothing wrong with it. 

and even if your toes dance along the edge of the line, they always drag along to draw it sharper in the sand. 

——————————

coming to alhaitham’s house seems like second nature these days. he comes to you at night, and you come to him in the afternoon of your day off—luck would have it that yours happens to coincide with his. you knock three times and he opens as soon as your knuckles pull away from the cool surface of his door. it’s like he expects you, maybe even waits for you. 

you step in and let the door close behind you, grinning when he steps closer and cages you against the tight corner that is his front entrance. 

“i brought over your cloak,” you hold up the cloth, gesturing for him to move so you can put it on him. he looks at you incredulously, like you’re out of your mind. 

“why would i put it on now?” he asks in confusion. 

you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow, “you always wear one?”

“and why would i dress when we’ll only be undressing in a short moment?” he quirks his own brow like it’s obvious—which, to be fair, alhaitham is not exactly wrong. but it doesn’t make you any less flustered when he says it. 

“you’re shameless,” you huff, looking away in embarrassment. he chuckles lowly, leaning down and trailing his nose along your collarbone, breathing in your perfume. 

“i think i’m more practical, is all,” he murmurs into your skin. you sigh, goosebumps traveling across your body at the fan of his breath against you. 

“if only people knew how unstiff the akademiya’s scribe can truly be,” you grin, finger tracing the sliver of skin showing from his chest window. “did you know i overheard a few patients discuss how bad you are at conversing?”

“i don’t get paid to partake in small talk,” he says, voice a low vibration as he shivers at your touch. “i have things to finish when i’m on the clock apart from socializing.”

“what, you’re that concerned when you have your lovely pay raise? i’m sure you could afford a few minutes,” you tease, making him roll his eyes. 

alhaitham certainly won’t admit it, but he finds a good amount of amusement from your quips—the small grin on his usually downturned lips tells you as much. 

“if you want me to spend my earnings on you, there are better ways to ask,” he shoots light-heartedly. 

“you’d accuse me of such shallow schemes?” you pout. “do you think me to be after your mora?”

his answer is instantaneous, coming in the form of a delicate kiss pressed to your lips as his hands grab your hips. your arms have a habit of their own, always wrapping around his neck before you can even comprehend the action, and just like always, you both end up a tangled pile of limbs that can’t even make it past the doorway, let alone the rest of the house. 

you like it this way, perhaps even love it. something about him being unable to wait the time it takes to walk to his room fills you up with a sense of glee. 

“being the scribe is a much simpler job than sage,” he mumbles between kisses, “there happens to be much more time for other things.”

“things like taking the head nurse against the door of your home?” 

“perhaps,” he smiles with a chuckle. 

who would’ve thought alhaitham could smile so painfully charming? just a few weeks ago, you had never seen him smile before at all, willing to bet that he’d never smiled a day after stepping into adulthood with that seriousness he holds so dearly. 

“i don’t have much time,” you hum in between kisses, fingers fiddling with the short hair at the nape of his neck. 

“we’ll make do, i’m sure,” he says through a breathy groan, already semi-hard as your thigh slots between his legs, rubbing against the forming tent in his pants. 

your head tilts up as his head buries into your neck, lips branding searing kisses into your skin. you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his, to be stamped with his affections one kiss at a time until no one else could hope to have you. your eyes flutter shut, sighing as he sucks attentively to your sweet spot. 

“don’t leave marks,” you scold, “i can’t show up to the bimarstan looking so scandalous.”

you’ve felt his lips against your skin enough times that you can tell them by heart. you don’t have to look to know they’re pouting against your neck—you can feel it against your skin. you giggle, cupping the back of his head as your fingers delicately thread through his hair. 

“i’m meant to hold back then?” he grumbles. it’s almost petulant, but he still softens the nipping against your skin, careful to leave no evidence of his existence against you, however disgruntled he might be. 

“don’t be so whiny,” you laugh. archons must have it out for you, though, because as soon as you say that, his hardened cock brushes against your crotch, making you whine at the friction. it’s something, but it’s hardly anything at all—the separation from the fabric makes everything not nearly enough. 

he seems to know it, too, because he pulls away, eyeing you with a certain gleam in his eyes that looks like a cross between smug and amused. 

“i’ll try,” he says smugly. you glare, but you’re cut off by the brush of his cock against that sensitive spot between your thighs once more, his hips grinding against you as you fall slack against the door. you can feel him rub against your clit, sending shockwaves along your spine as your back arches and you breathlessly moan his name. 

at first, he only does it to tease you, but after the first few rolls of his hips, it’s evident he can’t bring himself to stop. it’s not enough, not for either of you. the ache settling between your legs can’t be quelled with a few simple rolls of his hips with fabric separating you both from each other. but alhaitham’s sense of control seems to wash away with the tidal waves of pleasure, each thrust of his hips brushing his cock against your heat and leaving him panting into your shoulder. 

“m-more,” you plead, grabbing at his cape and fisting the material as you hold onto him tightly, “i need more—please.”

alhaitham, for all his composure and self-preservation, is simple to take apart when his throbbing cock is pressed against your cunt, rubbing against the length and building the pressure he so desperately needs. 

he doesn’t even seem to hear you, hot breath fanning against the crook of your neck as he buries his head and groans, hips sloppy and rough as they rut into you. you can feel the outline of his cock clearly even through his pants and yours, hot and undoubtedly hard. the bulge in his pants brushes against your clit through yours—and even if it’s nowhere close to feeling him inside of you, you can feel yourself just about to break. 

“sorry,” he gasps, “sorry—c-can’t stop. i-i’m c-close. so close.”

the last part comes out like a plead. it’s like he’s begging you to free him of this torment, like he needs you to make him fall over the edge because he can’t bring himself there. you think that might be the case, so you wrap your fingers around his hair and tug. 

he moans—maybe if you were feeling teasing, you’d call it a whine and watch his cheeks flush as he scowls. but there’s no chance for that. not when you’re both so close, so achingly close that you can just make out the twitch of his cock in his pants. 

and then the doorknob twists. 

a series of muffled curses can be heard through the other side of the door, and you both pause—rigid, tense, stiffly alert as your eyes widen. his head perks up from its place in your neck, staring at the doorknob in equal parts rage and equal parts confusion, like he blames it for cutting you both short of a much-needed, much-wanted orgasm. 

“oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” you hear a voice groan exasperatedly through the door, “again?”

you’re completely lost. who could be trying to enter alhaitham’s house at this hour? 

the only hope you have for answers is, of course, alhaitham—one look at the recognition and irritation on his face, and you can piece together that it’s certainly no stranger. alhaitham, if his cold glare could freeze anything where it stands, could potentially risk turning sumeru into the next snezhnaya. his eyes are hardened, and his jaw is clenched as he breathes out a heavy sigh through his nose. 

“and you’re kidding me,” he mutters bitterly. “now?” 

“hey! i know you’re home! open this door and stop pretending like you can’t hear me,” the voice demands, tapping on the door with more conviction than the last time. 

you furrow your eyebrows and look at him expectantly; an explanation demanded through the crinkles of your forehead as you look at him in confusion. he pulls away, jaw still tight as he adjusts himself in his pants, trying his best to hide the still painful erection he sports. 

“my roommate,” he says quietly. deadly. 

you almost feel bad for the poor soul that must be waiting on the other side of the door, unaware of the pure wrath he must be about to face judging by the look on alhaitham’s face. 

you hear the voice again, “ugh! you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? you—”

“calm down,” alhaitham calls, unimpressed and unamused as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. he seems to hold it for a moment like he’s fighting the tension in his body, before he slumps and lets out another sigh. this time, it’s much more defeated as he gives you an apologetic look when his eyes open. 

you both adjust your appearances, erasing any trace of debauchery before you step aside and let him approach the door. 

the swing of the door opening is a rather aggressive one, and alhaitham stands taller and straighter than you’ve ever seen him, like he’s trying to tower over the figure that enters the house. 

you recognize him immediately. 

“oh!” you gasp in awe, “you’re that architect! the one who designed the palace of alcazarzaray!”

both men look equally as haunted by your statement. alhaitham’s eye all but twitches as he takes in the breathless admiration in your voice—you’re no doubt praising kaveh’s work. as for the latter…well, he looks like he might just about launch himself into the blade of an eremite willingly the first chance he gets. 

“wh-who are you?” kaveh demands, “and what are you doing here?”

“she’s obviously a guest of mine,” alhaitham shoots coolly, tone as condescending as ever. “have you lost all manners? that’s no way to greet a guest.”

“what did you say to me? i want to hear nothing of the sort from you—god knows your temper isn’t one to speak on my manners.” 

kaveh turns to you, taking one better look at you, squinting as he thinks for a moment before realization flashes across his features. he seems to recognize you—though most people in sumeru do know you quite well. the nurses at the bimarstan are limited, these days. 

“ah! you’re the head nurse from the bimarstan! you looked at my wrist,” he recalls. 

you smile, nodding as you gesture at his hand and ask kindly, “is it better now? i do hope it’s not as sore anymore. did you apply heat as i suggested? and i hope you’re taking ample rest in between sketches—architects are very prone to sore wrists as is, you know.”

alhaitham rolls his eyes at your lecture, grumbling, “as if he would follow anyone’s advice. he’s far too stubborn.”

“i’ll have you know that i followed her advice quite closely,” kaveh says pointedly. he turns to you, voice much softer as he smiles and adds, “and my wrist is much better, thank you.”

“of course,” you nod. and then you pause, staring between the two unsurely as you falter and ask, “but…i wasn’t aware you two were friends. alhaitham tells me you’re his roommate—he’s never mentioned you before today, though.”

they both glare at each other through the corners of their eyes. something tells you maybe friends was a bit of an exaggerated term. alhaitham makes no moves to speak, crossing his arms and staring expectantly at kaveh—the blonde scoffs, shaking his head with a scowl. 

“friends…is a generous word. we’re roommates,” he nods in confirmation, “i’ve…ran into some trouble for the time being, so i’m staying here for a bit. won’t be much long, however. i need a space less…suffocating.”

“and how well is that plan faring for you?” alhaitham’s words seem to poke at kaveh, riling the blonde up further as you watch the scene before you awkwardly. 

“you—” but before kaveh can finish whatever retaliation was on the cusp of his tongue, he pauses. it’s like all at once, the situation hits him before he’s staring between the two of you, instead. “hang on a moment. how do the both of you know each other? i didn’t know alhaitham was acquainted enough with the head nurse for her to pay a visit.”

“well,” you start, trailing off as you cough lightly, tensing as the question throws you off guard. “umm…alhaitham visits the bimarstan sometimes after his trips to the desert. so…”

so what? how would that explain your visit to his home? it’s not as though you become friendly with all your patients and drop them a visit—in fact, alhaitham is the only one you’ve ever done that for. and of course, it’s not just a visit that you’re doing here. but kaveh doesn’t need to know that. 

that would be quite the scandal—getting so intimate with a regular patient. and apart from that, you and alhaitham aren’t exactly in an ideal situation. what would you tell kaveh? that you come over just to hook up? it’s not exactly a rare occurrence to have a beneficial relationship with someone like this, but still…admitting it like that is a bit too shameless for your liking. 

and then there’s a much more complicated, much less easy-to-tackle problem, too. you’re not even sure if you can confidently say you don’t have feelings for the scribe. that’s not something you were counting on, ever. saying you only partake in intimate activities with no strings attached might just hit you too hard in the gut, even if it’s not exactly a lie. but admitting the words out loud isn’t something you’re prepared to do. 

almost like he senses your turmoil, alhaitham steps in, bless his soul. he almost looks a bit conflicted, studying you carefully. you don’t have time to dwell on it, though, before he speaks. 

“so she came to check on a wound she patched up,” he finishes for you, quick and easy and confident enough in his words that it makes up for your nerves. he quicks a fleeting glance at you before raising an eyebrow to kaveh. “i left in a hurry and didn’t really let her properly tend to it last time. not that it’s your business, of course. i’m perfectly within my rights to bring guests over to my house.”

“be careful,” kaveh glowers, “anymore attitude, and you’ll risk showing your guests your true colors if you’re not cautious. you wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on the same person who tends to your wounds, do you? that would be fatal.”

“you two are quite the duo,” you chuckle, shaking your head, “it seems alhaitham has finally met his match verbally. you truly don’t let him have the last say.”

alhaitham almost looks offended, looking at you in disbelief. “i am not outmatched by his—”

“if it’s not too much trouble,” kaveh laughs nervously, cutting alhaitham off with a sharp look, “could you keep this…uh arrangement of ours a secret? i don’t really want this getting around and such.”

“my lips are sealed,” you promise. kaveh perks up, relief sagging into his shoulders at that before he nods, giving you a friendly smile as he waves at you. 

“i’ll be off to finish a project, then. nice seeing you.”

as soon as he walks away and you’re certain the door to his room shuts, you let out a soft breath of relief. 

“that was close,” you whisper, “he could’ve figured it out.”

“right,” alhaitham says vaguely. he doesn’t say much else, arms still crossed as he stands there and looks at you—something about the way alhaitham stares at you is too uncomfortable for your liking. 

not because he looks at you weirdly or even inappropriately, but because it almost feels like he can pick apart every thought in your head just by his gaze alone. 

you shuffle on your feet before you give him a tight smile. 

“i should go—the patients are never-ending these days,” you chuckle nervously. 

“make sure you don’t overwork yourself,” he nods. 

you linger for a moment. you’re not sure why. it’s not as though you can expect him to give you a goodbye kiss—that would be preposterous. and far too wishful. 

so instead, you give him a small wave before turning towards the door—but he stops you before you can reach for the door handle, pulling you flush against him, your back to his chest. 

“will you come back tonight?” he whispers, voice low and husky as he presses his still-hard crotch against you. you shiver as he nips at your skin to get his point across. 

“what about kaveh?” you ask softly, biting your lip, unsure. the little voice in your head screams, who cares about kaveh?

“he’ll be dead asleep,” he snorts, “last night was the third all-nighter he pulled. there’s no chance he’ll make it past seven pm today.”

“you’re insatiable,” you tease, shaking your head as you snort. “do you know that?”

“i’ve never had a decline on your end,” he shoots back. 

“i have a shift later tonight,” you say apologetically, sighing as you think about the extra hours you’ll have to put in soon, “there aren’t enough people tonight without me.”

“you should really speak to someone about this funding cut,” he frowns, slumping against you, “it’s getting out of hand.” 

“no one listens.” your voice is so defeated, so uncharacteristically tired. you’re sure he notices it in a heartbeat—you notice it yourself. “but i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“sure,” is all he says. 

hesitantly, you pull away. his hands leave your hips reluctantly, too, like they’re most comfortable when they have you to house them. but neither of you say anything, simply nodding at each other as you look at him over your shoulder and exit through the door. 

the footsteps down his steps and away from his home are the heaviest ones you’ve taken all week. 

you decide you hate the sand. and that stupid line you both seem to have drawn.

——————————

it takes two failed attempts at fucking alhaitham to realize you’re not strictly only after the physical pleasure he brings. 

the first time, you weren’t even disappointed you didn’t get that far. it was only a disappointment that he was gone when you woke, and you realize it’s because the absence of him is why you’re even let down in the first place. the second time, you’re unhappy because you have to keep the nature of your relationship a secret—that’s a more complex problem. 

it’s secret because it has to be, because of how lewd it is by nature and how partially unprofessional it is. but you decide you also hate it to be a secret. no one knows that you see alhaitham bare and at his most vulnerable, and you can’t handle that anymore. especially when you watch a nurse flirt so poorly with him right before your eyes. 

“oh, it’s you, acting grand sage,” she giggles, “what can i do for you today?”

“i’ve actually returned to my previous position as scribe,” he corrects, entirely unaffected. 

“oh, is that so?” she gasps—you know it’s all for show. everyone is aware of his stepping down. “well, i, for one, think it’s a shame. you were so capable as a leader.”

alhaitham doesn’t like leading. for all he claims it’s because it’s too much trouble and far more work than he appreciates, you know that it’s also because the easiest way to never be swayed by power is to stay far away from it. he keeps himself grounded this way. he uses his smarts for only what’s necessary and only enough to quell his thirst for knowledge and never anything more. his principles are admirable.

and should the next grand sage also abuse such power like the last, he’ll step up from his humble position as scribe and fix the problem again—because that’s what he knows to do best. use his genius to solve issues as they arise, not control the situation entirely. 

of course, she wouldn’t know that. she doesn’t know anything about him. 

you fight back the roll of your eyes with the last shreds of self-preservation you have left. 

“the position wasn’t really for me,” he says plainly. “any idea where the head nurse might be? i have some business to discuss with her.”

it shouldn’t satisfy you as much as it does when she deflates at at his dismissal. but does—enough that you saunter up with a grin on your lips as you greet the two. 

“why hello. what business does the scribe have with little old me?” you hum. the nurse becomes background noise when your eyes meet his teal ones, staring at the small fleck of amber in his pupils while his piercing gaze rakes over your face as if to study you. 

you feel oddly seen under his stare—he’s seen you stripped and bare, at your most vulnerable under him. but somehow, you’ve never thought about it much in the moment like now. right now, he sees you with a clear mind, without the clouding haze of lust to fog his mind. right now, he can see you for every flaw and every imperfection, so up close. he can notice the way your fingers fiddle with themselves to calm your nerves. he can catch every nervous shuffle on your heels as you fight the urge to lean into him from the proximity. 

finally, you break out of your trance when the nurse clears her throat and mumbles, “i’ll uh..i’ll be off, then.”

he blinks at the same time as you, shaking his head slightly to bring himself back to the present as he clears his throat.

“can we speak somewhere more private?” he asks quietly. you don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad. but you nod nonetheless, leading him to an empty room as he follows. 

it’s a long, painstakingly dreadful walk. your mind is filled with too many possible scenarios that it’s a miracle your brain is even functioning properly. it should short circuit. what if he wants to end your arrangement? what if he’s aware of your slowly shifting feelings (if you can even call them that)? what if he’s found someone he’s interested in? what if his roommate has pieced together something, and now he needs to come up with a cover? 

the possibilities are endless, and they plague your mind so heavily that your lip is chewed raw by the time you enter the room and shut it behind him as he follows you in. 

“you wanted to talk?” you ask hesitantly. 

he doesn’t say anything—the only thing he does is press a folded piece of paper in your hands as you stare at him, confused. 

“open it,” he insists.

so you do. and reading over it makes you pause as you glance up at him in disbelief. the bimarstan funding—more than doubled. 

“what?” you breathe, in absolute awe, “how…how is this possible?”

“i’ve pulled a few strings,” he says plainly, shrugging. as always, he brushes off his actions as though he hasn’t just changed your entire job for the better. “it’s a nice perk of being an ex-sage.”

“you’ve used corruption just to help me?” your words are a playful jab—but there’s still an underlying question that you really do mean to ask. why go to such lengths for me? 

“it’s hardly corruption,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. the dust of red over the tips of his ears is the only thing that gives away the slightly flustered part of him, “i had a few favors owed to me, and the conditions here play an important role to everyone in sumeru. it was a simple correction to their terrible decision-making skills.”

“oh, haitham,” you chuckle. this time, the nickname really does make him flush more obviously, his eyes darting away to look off to the side as he clears his throat again. 

“well, that’s all,” he says stiffly, “i have to go home and…and make dinner. kaveh is of no help.”

“sure,” you beam, looking at him knowingly. you pause for a moment, contemplating before you cave and add, “and thank you. really.”

“it’s really nothing to look into,” he says awkwardly, “hopefully, now you can work fewer hours.” 

“the other nurses will also really appreciate it,” you say softly, “i’ll be sure to let them know—they’ll really have the hots for you this time,” you snort, making an indirect reference to earlier. he shivers, like the thought leaves him unnerved. 

“that one nurse of yours hasn’t left me alone since i stepped up as grand sage for that short while,” he grumbles, making you snort at the troubled look on his face. it shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does to see him so disgusted by the affections of someone else, but you’re only human. “doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.”

“oh c’mon, she’s sweet,” you tease. now that you know he’s uninterested, it’s fun to mess with him and get under his skin, giggling as you reach over and poke at his arm. 

“perhaps,” he shrugs, “but not very good at keeping her emotions in check. i’ve known her since my student days—i don’t think i could last one day with her lack of…composure.”

“what, you’re too above emotions?” you ask amused, “i would disagree. you’re a rather grumpy man, you know.”

“am i?” he fights back a grin, “i hardly noticed.”

“without your morning coffee, yes,” you quip. 

he laughs, shaking his head as he stares at you with something that looks oddly close to fondness in his eyes before he murmurs, “i do really need to make dinner. kaveh will truly whine my ear off if i don’t tonight.”

“have fun,” you pinch his cheek. he rolls his eyes, and with that, he nods to you and leaves, swiftly walking away and leaving you to yourself in the empty room with the slip of paper in your hands, a lovesick smile still on your face. 

you don’t even know where the line starts or where it ends anymore. all you know is that you’ve undoubtedly crossed it all on your own—and it might be the end of you, truly.

——————————

it takes one nice gesture from alhaitham to make you realize you’ve fallen hopelessly hard for him. before, every small action of intimacy was always just the two of you being friends, amicable and good-natured in between sex. 

now, you’re not sure you could spend a single minute next to him without wondering what it would feel like to do those things as a couple. 

sometimes, after sex, alhaitham likes to read. because it’s hard for him to sleep, and he doesn’t want to disturb you from your much-needed rest after a long day at the hospital. you don’t realize how reliant you’ve become on the sound of his pages flipping until you lay in bed alone, tossing and turning under your sheets as you try your hardest to sleep.

you can’t. not when all you think about is him. him, him, him. he’s all your mind drifts to nowadays. 

but you know alhaitham—better than a lot of people, in fact, seeing as you get to see parts of him that are otherwise… off-limits. being in a relationship is the last thing he wants, especially with you. otherwise, he’d have told you by now. you’re scared of a lot of things, scared to speak your mind, and tend to overthink too much for your own good. 

but alhaitham? he’s blunt and to the point. if he’d wanted something more with you, if the line had blurred and blurred for him until it risked being nonexistent like it did for you, he’d have said something. but he hasn’t—and neither can you. 

because you know as soon as you do, it’ll be over. the kind gestures, the gentle touches, the heated kisses, the nightly visits, all of it. gone with the wind as it blows the line in the sand away for good—not because he wants to cross it, but because it simply doesn’t need to exist anymore if he never speaks to you again. 

 alhaitham is not a romantically inclined guy. he’s good-looking enough that not just a handful of girls have tried their hand at confessing to him, and he’s always turned them down instantly. you’ve seen it, heard about it, know it to be true. and apart from that, are you both even that compatible?

sure, you get along great as is, but a relationship is much deeper than that. you’ve always appreciated how honest he was, how straightforward he put things. but relationships come with a lot more vulnerability and emotions than you’ve ever shown him. his bluntness will be too easy to mistake for casual cruelty when you’re in over your head. he’s quiet; he doesn’t appreciate too much interaction—would he even enjoy going on dates? what if you insisted on an evening out, and all he wanted to do was stay in and read? would he want to do all that stuff? everything you want seems like it would be something of a chore for him, something that makes him see you as a chore. 

he even said it himself the other day, calling that nurse too emotional for his liking. sure, it was an off-handed comment, but you’re one emotional day away from potentially being too much for him too. you couldn’t handle that. not when you like him so, so much. not when you want him so bad, you couldn’t handle him not wanting you just as badly. 

would he even want you that badly? logic tells you no—and logic is at the forefront of his mind at all times. your emotionally charged outlook on life would be a bleeding mess of color in his neutral, logically categorized approach. 

you’d be dooming yourself to loving a man who would hardly know what to do with your affections. 

so you do the only sound solution to this predicament of yours—you end things before he can do it himself. it’s inevitable, of course. whether it’s in a few weeks or months, eventually, alhaitham will grow bored of your casual fling. and he’ll end things, completely fine and normal while you fall apart at the seams. the best thing you can do for yourself is let things end on your own terms, and early on, too, before the feelings fester into something all too serious. 

it’s not as though you love him yet—things are still early on enough to make sense of them. 

or is it? some part of your mind asks viciously, are you sure you don’t love him? 

you push away the thought as quickly as it pops into your head. rolling your shoulders back, you straighten your posture, taking a deep breath before you knock on his door. 

he opens it instantly, smiling that small, ghost of a smile of his. you falter immediately. 

“hey,” he hums, swinging his door wider, “come in.”

“no, that’s okay,” you say stiffly, not meeting his eyes, “i…can’t today.”

“oh.” you hate that you can hear the frown in his voice and practically see the confused crinkle of his eyebrows. “did you want to talk about something, then?”

yes, you want to say. there’s a lot i want to talk about. 

there’s a lot you should talk about—and if you were keen on discussing this like an adult, you would lay it all out on the table. 

instead, you blurt out, “i think we should stop.”

he eyes you carefully, raising a questioning brow as he asks, “stop what?”

“this,” you point between the two of you, “whatever…whatever this is we’re doing.”

and just as you expected, his face is blank, so neutral and so hard to read you want to scream at him. yell at him for making you want him so bad when you can’t even tell if he’s even a fraction as crazy as you. does he want you? he certainly treats you well sometimes, but maybe that’s just because you get his dick wet and stitch up a few wounds here and there for him. does he actually even toss and turn and stay up thinking about you the way you think about him? 

the answer is probably no. you don’t even want to find out if you’re right or not. but he’s never made you believe he has, so you don’t entirely think you’re wrong in your assumptions. 

“and what are we doing?” he must be playing dumb, you think. 

“hooking up,” you hiss, “having sex. fucking. whatever you want to call it, alhaitham. we have to end it. now.”

“and what brought this on?” he crosses his arms. 

you want to ask him why he’s being so cruel, so intent on keeping you when you clearly can’t stay, when there are so many women who would throw themselves at him for a chance to get in bed with him if a physical partner is what he’s so hellbent on keeping. but you can’t be that for him any longer, not when your emotions are tired of being a jumbled mess that slowly but surely eat away at your decaying soul. 

“we…we’re just…it’s not—we just have to, okay? i don’t appreciate you treating me like i’m easy.”

“wha—when have i ever treated you as such?” he looks at you bewildered, getting defensive. 

“that’s not what i meant,” you pinch your nose, groaning as you try to process the words you want to say in your spinning head. everything is too much—the way he’s close, the way your body feels aflame from just standing near him, the way your eyes are involuntarily misting over. “this…this is just an easy arrangement, that’s all. for both of us. but i don’t want to be someone’s quick and easy hook-up for the sake of convenience. i need…i need something more from someone, so we should stop while we can so i can find myself that.”

there’s a minimal twitch of his jaw as he clenches and unclenches it, nodding slowly.

“you want something more, is that it?”

“w-well, yes—but that’s not what i entirely meant, so don’t read into it—”

“so how would ending this get you that, then?” he challenges. you hate that he makes you feel stupid, that he looks at you like you’re not thinking when that’s all you’ve been doing these last few…archons know how long. he’s plagued your mind for so much time you can’t even pinpoint for how long. 

“i want something more, but not from you,” you spit, slamming your hands to slap against your thighs in frustration, “that’s obviously why i’m ending it! must you always make everything difficult?”

he doesn’t speak, silently stunned a bit at your outburst. so you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down before you collect your thoughts better. 

“i just…i’m sorry, okay? i didn’t mean to yell at you like this is your fault. i…i can’t say i can get into bed with you anymore without wanting us to actually mean something to each other, and i know that’s not what you want—”

“who said that’s not what i want?” he interrupts, looking at you with the first hints of emotions all day. there’s a small etch of frustration building in the twitch of his brows as he continues, “you’ve just decided for me how i feel, and that’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“you’ve never said anything about how you feel,” you shoot back.

“well, neither have you, but that doesn’t mean—”

“i may not have said it, but you’re telling me you never noticed? i do your laundry for you, for crying out loud, alhaitham! and you’ve never so much as dropped a hint!”

“i see,” he nods slowly, going back to the blank slate that is his face. still so infuriatingly neutral and unbothered by it all that you can’t help but lose it a little. 

how can he be so unbothered? how can he be so calm and collected when you feel like you might need to check yourself into the bimarstan yourself from the stress of it all? you’ve spent weeks, months in each other’s beds. familiarized yourselves with every part of each other’s bodies. he knows about that birthmark no one else sees, and you trace that mole on his left pec every night before you sleep. you’ve slowly but surely been dying to cross the threshold of just friends (with a few perks, of course), and here he is, nodding along as you tell him you want him, want more of him.

and he’s got nothing to say. because, for some reason, after months of feeling you, spending nights and days tucked away against you, he doesn’t seem to feel the same, so he doesn’t have much to offer you. how can he be so unbothered by your presence after months with you? is it really that easy not to be affected by you? 

some part of you lets go of the hold on your control as you snap, “and this is why we can’t have anything more.”

“why’s that?” he tilts his head, voice an uncharacteristic edge to it, “enlighten me.”

“because…because…because you’re you!”

finally, a flash of hurt crosses his face, making itself home in his eyes and forehead as it crinkles at your words. he studies you, quiet. unnervingly quiet that you almost wonder if you’re just deaf.

“are you trying to say there’s something wrong with me?” he presses, looking so lost that you almost feel guilty. 

not as much as you feel like you’re about to cry, though.

“yes,” you say without thinking—and the way hurt settles into his eyes more makes you scramble to reword things so you don’t sound like a total jerk, “i mean no! i mean…i mean you’re just you, and you and i won’t mix.”

“we won’t mix,” he repeats, blinking. “interesting—”

you can’t stop yourself from going on the tangent now that you’ve begun, spilling your every thought one by one as you cut him off, “you’re so quiet, and it’s unnerving, you know? you never speak a single thought on your mind, you’d rather just read than talk about your day. and everything you say is so painfully to the point—would it kill you to soften the blow sometimes? people don’t always need the cold, hard truth, okay? sometimes, saying what someone wants to hear can make all the difference. and…and…i don’t know, okay? i need someone who can work with my emotions without applying logic to everything, and that’s not you so…so we have to end things because it’s not fair to either of us. i want it to actually mean something with someone when i’m with them, and you don’t want someone to taint everything with their fragile feelings, so we need to go our separate ways. okay?”

you’re practically panting when you’re done speaking, and alhaitham is just standing, thinking, processing everything you’ve said in that painfully complex head of his. 

finally, he breaks the silence and says, “i didn’t know so many things about me bothered you.”

“they didn’t,” you sigh, “not until recently. i guess…i guess it just hit me how difficult it would be to get along in a proper relationship.”

“you know that because what? you think it?”

“i know it because i’m actually looking at things realistically,” you say exasperatedly, “just because we had sex for a few months doesn’t automatically mean we’re a compatible pair.”

“we haven’t really gotten to know much outside of sex to decide that,” he shakes his head, “i’m not understanding how you can so easily dismiss these feelings by deciding it won’t work—”

“look, alhaitham,” you cut him off, voice so uncharacteristically small, he pauses to look at you in shock, “i’ve been slowly losing it for weeks, okay? the last thing i need is for you to make things difficult for me. you’re a good guy, and i really, really wish things were different, but i just need more than what you can give me without completely changing yourself. neither of us should have to compromise anything about ourselves for things to work.”

“you don’t know if i’d be willing to give you what you need or not,” he says quietly, “maybe i wouldn’t be changing a thing.”

“then what about that girl?” you scoff, “the one you said was too emotional for you to handle? you think i’m just being crazy? you said it yourself, so what else should i believe?”

“her? she’s different—”

“why? because she’s not me? because she doesn’t let you in her bed? you’ll find my emotions just as burdensome as hers one day, and then what? we fall back on sex to keep the spark alive?”

something about him is defeated. shoulders slumped, eyes dim, and arms uncrossing to lay limply at his sides. he takes a deep breath before nodding, looking at you so intensely you almost feel frozen in place. 

“okay,” he whispers, “if this is what you want. that’s fine.”

his door closes, and your first tear slips. 

——————————

nine days. that’s how long it’s been without alhaitham. your mind tells you this is for the best, but your heart is practically on its knees, begging you to reconsider. 

a part of you wonders if you were being unfair like he said, judging him before you could properly give him a chance. the other part of you thinks it’s important not to let attachment cloud your better judgment. alhaitham is a good man; there’s no doubt about it. 

but is he a man good for you? that part is a difficult question to answer. protecting your heart seems like the safest option. still, you can’t help but miss him horrifically often. it doesn’t hit you how badly you’ve fallen for him until you don’t see him anymore. no more late nights at your place, no more afternoons at his, and no more routine bimarstan visits. 

your life has at least gotten a bit easier, though—more funding means more people to hire, and more people to hire means fewer grueling hours for you. though, when you really think about it, you owe this small win to the exact man who’s been plaguing your thoughts. 

you intend to drink your woes away, but it seems even in the tavern, you can’t escape him—well, not exactly him, but his roommate. but kaveh still reminds you of alhaitham, so the cleared head you hoped for is out of the question for the night.

the thing about kaveh, though, is that he’s loud. painfully so, and especially when he’s drunk. you could hear him from the other end of teyvat, you think—it’s hard to ignore him even if you want to. 

“he’s been insufferable lately,” kaveh huffs, “worse than usual. that awful temper of his needs to really get a check because i’m not sure how much more i can take.”

you didn’t know kaveh was friends with the general mahamatra—seeing cyno loosened up with a deck of tcg cards was not on your list of expectations for the night, but you can’t help but listen in when he adds, “his last few reports to me from his investigations were not up to his…usual work ethic, either. i’m not sure what’s up with him.”

“maybe he’s overworked,” tighnari suggests—you know him as a fellow amurta scholar, recognizing him from your student days. you hadn’t realized alhaitham was friends with such an interesting assortment of people—well, you don’t know if kaveh fits as a friend, but the other two seem like safe bets. 

“i don’t think so,” kaveh grumbles, “he’s hardly been sleeping. it’s not like he takes work home with him, you think he’d be the type? but he’s been drinking all the coffee—i actually work into the night. shouldn’t he at least leave some for me?”

“i wonder what’s up with him,” cyno hums thoughtfully, “he must really be brewing in his emotions.”

you snort at the poor pun, watching as the other two around him wince and groan. 

finally, kaveh sighs, rubbing his temple as he mumbles, “i don’t know. i’ve never seen him like this. i think it’s serious.”

that makes guilt pool in your gut, making you feel so full that even one sip of your drink feels like too much. you’ve lost all desire to drink your sorrows away—you couldn’t have possibly dampened someone like alhaitham so deeply, could you? he’s always been unaffected by things more than others, and you’d never imagined him to care that deeply about your relationship. if you could call it that, even. 

“what do you suppose has brought this on then?” tighnari’s ears twitch in worry, “he’s…not exactly the most emotionally available.”

well, at least you’re not alone in your beliefs. 

“i don’t know,” kaveh says quietly—and even if they claim not to be friends, you don’t think they hate each other a fraction as much as they let on because his voice seems to be twinged with clear worry himself as he adds, “his eyes have been red in the mornings. it can’t be something small.”

that’s all you can stomach to hear before you slam your glass down and swiftly make a beeline for the tavern’s exit. some part of you, weak and bound to alhaitham, is unable to listen any longer about his misery. the misery you caused. the misery you brought yourselves both because insecurities ebbed and flowed into the deepest crevices of your mind and rotted away at the reasonable parts. 

of course, you’re different. of course, there’s a chance things will go sour. of course, it won’t be easy. but isn’t that the case for every relationship? love was never meant to be a simple feat—otherwise, it would never be half as scary to take the fall. 

but you’ve been careful, too careful. so careful that you forgot to let yourself try and be happy, and so careful that you’ve stomped on someone’s feelings enough that his friends exchange their worries over drinks instead of having a good time with him. 

so you decide that enough is enough. if alhaitham isn’t meant to be yours, then celestia themselves will have to take him from you—because you’re not risking losing him a second time. 

not again.

——————————

contrary to popular belief, alhaitham has never been difficult to track down if you simply know where to look. he might be good at making himself scarce, but there’s only a handful of places he could be. the light of his home shining through the window tells you that your first guess is not very off.

you knock, silently staring at the tips of your shoes as he slowly opens the door.

“hey,” you murmur as soon as the door swings open. you haven’t even looked up yet, but you’re certain he has the same neutral expression on his face. but kaveh is right about one thing—his eyes are definitely a little red.

“hey,” he says quietly. 

it’s awkward for a moment. you don’t know what to say, and he doesn’t have any intentions to fill the silence. some time ago, that worried you. his quietness came across as an inability to keep up healthy communication. but now, you miss it—the quiet flip of his pages as he sat beside you, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. the way he let out a soft little breath when you lay on his chest, rubbing his palm slowly in circles against the small of your back. the soft, peaceful silence of his presence. 

you never appreciated it enough, the comfort of knowing you’re valued without having to say anything at all. 

“listen, i—”

“you don’t have to—”

you both stop, pausing when you speak at the same time. 

“go ahead,” you say instantly. 

he clears his throat, shaking his head as he swallows. “no,” he mumbles, ever the gentleman, “no, that’s okay. you go first.”

you think your nerves might just explode one by one if you have to wait any longer, so you don’t bother putting up much more of a fight, nodding before fiddling with your fingers as you take a deep breath. 

the words spill faster than you can process what you’re saying. a long, jumbled string of thoughts that rattle off your tongue like a dam finally breaking at the leaking crack. 

“i was wrong. for all the things i said, i mean. there’s nothing wrong with you, you know? you’re really kind, and you remember the little things, and you always keep your promises, and those are really nice things. and i don’t hate when you’re quiet, by the way. i used to think it bothered me, but i miss it, you know? just having you sit next to me and read and stuff. i guess…i guess i just never bothered trying to think about how to love you the way you needed because i was so busy worrying if you could love me the way i needed and…and i just fucked a lot of things up. i got in my head and made a lot of assumptions that weren’t fair and just…i got cold feet. and i’m sorry. and i love you—really, really love you. all of you. you don’t have to believe me or even say anything at all. i just needed you to know all that because you deserve to.”

he’s silent. you can’t tell whether from being stunned or from disinterest. both are fair, regardless—you think alhaitham could slam the door shut in your face, and you’d deserve it. but he doesn’t. because just as always, he’s your same, kind, gentle alhaitham underneath all of the blunt stoicism. 

“i lied,” you whisper, “i do want you to say something. anything.”

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he stares at his feet, still looking as hurt as the day you left him. “you…you just assumed i wouldn’t be able to love you, is what i’m gathering.”

“i just thought…” you swallow thickly, tongue like sandpaper against your dry mouth, “i just thought we were too different.”

“i thought we got along well,” he shrugs, trying to pretend there isn’t as much hurt on his features as there is, “maybe i misread things.”

“no,” you shake your head desperately, “no, i overthought them, that’s all.”

“why did you leave me?” he asks hoarsely, “why couldn’t we have talked about things?”

you want to say because you were a coward, maybe even a hypocrite. you insisted he’d be too constipated emotionally to communicate properly with you, but all you’ve done was decide things for him and avoid the hard, heart-to-heart talk.

really, it’s because you were never brave enough to try and love alhaitham the way he would have loved you. the way he loves you. you were blind to see it—weren’t even willing to believe that he ever would. not until after you let him go and realized what you had. he’d walked you home, made sure you got proper rest, pulled strings, and used up favors just to make things better for you. and you missed all the signs, all because it was so easy to walk away, to label his blunt nature as causal cruelty, to confuse his quietness as disinterest, to assume his logic was the absence of emotion. you never gave him a chance because you were never brave enough to take the fall. 

but alhaitham was always ready to catch you, arms aching to wrap around your form and hold you. not because he wanted you to love him, but because all he’s ever wanted was to love you. 

you think that’s the difference between the two of you. you’ve always wanted to be loved, and he’s always wanted to love. you’ve always wanted to take and he’s always wanted to give. you’ve always wanted him to be enough, and he’s always wanted you to know you’re enough and more. 

it’s too much to tell him though, so you settle on cupping his cheeks and whispering, “because you scare me. the way you make me feel.”

“how do i make you feel?”

not too long ago, you’d think he was asking just to confirm what he already knows. now, you know he’s asking because he needs to hear the words for his own sake. just to be sure. just to ease the uncertainty in his own head. 

“you make me feel a lot of things, haitham,” you murmur, “you make me feel happy. appreciated. very pretty. capable. important. sometimes a little dumb,” you giggle as he frowns, squeezing his cheeks as you add, “but only because you’re so smart. i could list a few other things you make me feel, but…they’re not as proper.”

“i thought…just…d-did i do something?” he asks, voice hesitant. there’s a painful, awful squeeze in your heart at his words. but your heart is the last of your worries right now—it’s the least you can do, putting your feelings aside for his own, seeing as you’ve stomped all over his.

so, in an effort to show him that everything is okay, you smile—you’re sure it’s a pathetic, wobbly little thing, but you don’t have time to care. not when he’s right here, under your fingertips, and one possible moment away from slipping away. 

a watery chuckle escapes you as you whisper, “no. you didn’t do anything—it was me. but i’m not running away anymore…if you still want me, that is.” 

“you’re all i want,” he says instantly. “the only thing.”

“i know,” you breathe, “and you are all i want too.”

you kiss him. because he deserves to feel you choose him, to feel you close the gap and show him you’re here. your lips press gently against his, molding into them like two pieces of a puzzle—except you don’t think neither of you fit anywhere else but each other. incomplete without each other and unable to fit anywhere else. your thumb traces the soft, warm skin of his cheek, soothingly caressing it as if to let him know i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere. 

he stumbles back, and you follow him in, pressing against the door of his home just like those days ago before an unwelcomed interruption. this time, though, you think kaveh could freeze outside all you care—you’re not letting anything interrupt this moment. 

“i’ve been losing my mind for weeks too,” he mumbles in between gasps for air as you kiss, “just so you know. it wasn’t you alone.”

“that’s good to know,” you hum, grinning against his mouth. 

“and i thought i was giving signs,” he adds, “that’s why i went through the trouble to fix your schedule. so i could spend more time with you—i…i apologize if i wasn’t obvious with my intentions.”

“don’t be,” you say softly, “i’m the one who missed them. you did everything right.”

“did i?” he asks, unsure. 

you press your lips firmly against his when you hear the crack in his voice, as if sheer touch alone will express the way you feel. maybe it does, though—because he melts against you, letting out a soft moan as your hands travel to his broad chest, feeling the muscled and toned body he hardly hides under that skin-tight shirt. 

“i get scared easily,” you whisper, “will you be patient with me?”

“i’m not good at expressing my emotions,” he whispers back, “will you be patient with me too?”

“we can be patient together,” you hum, pecking his lips a few times as he chuckles softly. 

“good plan,” he nods, “sounds like it should work.”

“oh, thank you,” you wink playfully, pulling away to wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his as you look at him cheekily, “i’m a bit of a genius.”

“that you are,” he nods, smiling in amusement. and he means it. you’re every bit smart and capable as he makes you feel—inadequacy was never something alhaitham made you feel; it was always something you brought onto yourself. you’re used to shifting the blame, you realize. it’s so easy to blame everything and everyone but yourself for the intrusive thoughts in your head. 

but they melt away tonight, one feathered kiss at a time, pressed to your jaw delicately by warm, familiar lips you’d know blind. 

“your friends are worried about you, you know. kaveh—”

“please do not mention kaveh’s name right now,” he groans, “i’ll hear all about your alarming story of my friends at the tavern, but right now, i only want to hear you say one name.”

“yours?” you wiggle your brows. 

“glad to know we’re on the same page,” he confirms, humming as your hands trail under his shirt, feeling the ridges of his built muscles. 

“i don’t want anymore casual sex,” you murmur, pouting, “it’s driving me mad.”

“okay,” he nods, shivering as your palms glide over his nipples as you pull his shirt up, exposing his chiseled abdomen for you to admire, “will girlfriend suffice?”

“girlfriend would be great,” you nod, beaming. 

“just so you’re aware, i am very concerned with the emotions of my girlfriend, however heavy they might be. i do still think, however, that nurse was on a…unique realm of her own, though,” he adds the last part with a pointed look.

“don’t mention other women when you just asked me to be your girlfriend,” you huff, “don’t forget who stitches you up. don’t get on my bad side.”

“my apologies,” he laughs. 

and then you’re back to kissing him, fervently and so desperately, you think this might be your last day on earth, making the most of it before you’ve breathed your last breath. alhaitham groans into your mouth, lets your hands wander all over him as you feel the tautness of his physique. 

it’s not the first time you’ve felt him, but it is the first time you can take all the time you want, memorizing him because he’s yours to keep locked away in your memory. 

“i love you,” you pant against his mouth, wet, hot kisses interrupting your sweet confession. 

“i,” he kisses your cheek, “love,” a kiss to your other cheek, “you,” a kiss to your nose, “too.”

this time, he leans down and kisses you right over your pulse point, right where your racing heart rate is beating erratically. you gasp when he bites and sucks at the flesh, making you whimper as your knees buckle. 

“how much?” you ask, pleading to know.

“enough to lose sleep,” he murmurs, “because my dreams were plagued with you. i couldn’t escape you in waking hours or in slumber. that’s how much you torment me. take over my body and mind. is that what you needed to hear?”

he’s a linguist—sometimes you forget that. perhaps he’s not so bad at saying what you need to hear, after all.

“maybe,” you hum, kissing his cheek, nibbling affectionately at the soft flesh, “you like me that much? how cute.”

“i’ll like you a lot more if you stop teasing,” he grunts, pressing his hot, searing erection against your thigh as your thumbs toy away at his nipples. you gasp when you feel him prod at you, feeling the heat even through the fabric that separates you. 

neither of you are patient enough to do this properly right now—but you have plenty of time for that. plenty of time to take it slow, explore each other, and map your bodies in ways you never dared to before. scared to cross that stupid, useless imaginary line you drew for no reason at all. you decide from here on out there are no more lines—just endless sand, your footprints next to his as you trek the path of lovers. 

you rub at his hardened cock through his pants, making him grunt before he grabs your hands and pins them over your head. 

“i said love you,” he says intensely, eyeing you with a carnal hunger you’ve never seen in him before, “but i didn’t say i’d be patient tonight.”

with that, his free hand tugs down both of your pants—his just enough to free his aching cock, and yours enough to expose your leaking cunt as he teases your clit with the blunt tip of his length. you whimper, bucking your hips into him, feeling the beads of precum spread along your heat as he shudders. 

“put it in,” you whine, clutching his shirt with tight fists. 

“you’re…not ready yet,” he insists, teeth grit as he gives his all to hold himself back from taking you just like you plead. 

but you’re stubborn—and alhaitham? he’s too weak to you to fight you when you are, doomed to give into any and every whim of yours.

“don’t care,” you shake your head, “don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. i just want you—please, please, please haitham.”

that’s all it takes for him to crack—slowly, so, so carefully, he nudges past your wet folds, inching his throbbing cock into you as you gasp at the stretch. this isn’t the first time he’s split you open—but it’s never something you get used to. the burning stretch still feels as new as the first time. he groans, low and breathless, as your walls clamp down on him as he slowly but surely intrudes into your cunt. 

“so tight,” he murmurs, voice filled with wonder—like this is the first time he’s ever felt you so raw. maybe it is. he’s never felt you as his, as yours. “does that feel good? do you feel me? what you do to me? and you thought i didn’t feel the same? like i didn’t purposely let blades slice my skin just for an excuse to come find you? feel your touch, watch you worry? just for a moment of your attention? surely, you can’t be so blind.”

his words make your head spin, making you throw it back as a soft escapes you when the last bit of his length slips in, filling you full and to the brim as he nudges at the most sensitive spots inside of you. he’s so deep; you think your lungs are filled with him, like every breath you take is filled with him, him, him. 

“yes,” you say through a shaky voice, “yes—so good, you feel so good. i want you, haitham. all of you.”

“you have all of me,” he kisses the words into your neck, “that’s not enough? you want more?”

“yes,” you plead, “more!”

he chuckles, smooth and low and so pretty, you feel an ache in your clit from the sound alone. “well, alright then. more it is—i could never dream of denying such a sweet wish.”

finally, he rolls his hips, all but pulling out completely before pressing back into you, dragging along every ridge of you, nudging his thick tip against the spongey, sensitive at the back of your walls. you’re slack against his door, held up by him and him alone as your body betrays you, unable to keep balance as he fucks into you the way he does. 

it’s been nine days without you. the way his hips snap so desperately into you, you’d think he’s a man thirsty, gone a year without rain in the deepest, more treacherous ruins in the desert. all you can do is cling to him, repeat the same mantra of haitham, haitham, haitham—more, please haitham.

he knows your body well. so, so well, he knows exactly how to toy with your clit, thumb finding the sensitive nub, enough pressure to make you whine with a jolt, but not enough to let you fall over the edge just yet—not until he allows it.

“i love you,” he punctuates with a roll of his hips, “repeat that. so i know you believe it. so i know you believe me.”

“p-please,” you gasp, tugging at his hair, “i…i need to c-cum—”

“say it,” he demands. 

“you love me—oh,” you cut yourself off with a sharp breath, his thumb abusing your clit in faster circles. 

“again,” he says firmly.

“you love me,” you whimper, “you…you love me. only me.”

“good,” he nods, groaning as you squeeze around him at the praise, “and don’t forget it. not for a second.”

“l-love you too,” you stutter, voice cracking as he rolls his hips unforgivingly, the friction making your mind fog with pure lust. “love you so, so much.”

that makes him inhale sharply, breath catching in his throat. his head falls to your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin as he moans lowly, hips sloppy and ungraceful in their pace but never failing in precision to angle right into your sweet spot. his thumb rolls circles into your clit, fast and desperate to send you over the edge so he can follow. 

and you do—you fall off the edge so fast, so hard, your nails dig blunt, raw crescent moons into his skin as you arch your back off the door and cry his name. luckily for alhaitham, his house is built conveniently enough that he has no close neighbors. no one to hear such filthy sounds right against the door for them to witness just by passing by. no one should be at this hour—but even if they were, you hardly could bring yourself to care. 

“c-cumming,” you wail, “cumming, haitham.”

“so beautiful,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, voice strained as he chases his own orgasm, “can’t…can’t believe you’re mine. mine.”

it’s like the realization that you’re his is what pushes him past the edge, his cock twitching with hot, thick ropes of cum into your abused cunt and painting the walls white as soon as he repeats the word mine. 

mine, mine, mine—he doesn’t stop repeating it even as he fucks himself into you and works himself through his high. you can feel the wet, messy trail of his cum and your slick leaking down your thighs, so filthy, so lewd, so devastatingly raw. 

“yours,” you confirm tiredly, kissing his head as he pants into your neck, muffled moans pressed against your skin as you soothe him while he falls apart against you. “all yours. not going anywhere, i promise. i promise.”

finally, he slumps against you, panting as he tries to catch his breath, sweaty and tired but never unsatisfied. 

“if you leave me again,” he quietly admits, “i think i’ll go mad.”

“then i won’t,” you say gently, stroking his sweaty locks. 

“i love you,” he reminds you once more, “do you believe me?”

“i do,” you nod, smiling like he’s handed you the sun, “and i love you too. do you believe me?”

“i do,” he hums, wrapping himself around you tighter. 

there’s a jiggle of the doorknob behind you, followed by an incoherent, slurred string of curses. alhaitham deflates against you, looking up at you tiredly. you throw your head back and laugh, gleeful, and so, so in love. 

“i’m tired of him,” he grumbles.

“let him off easy this once,” you brush back his hair, “it’s thanks to him that i came to see you tonight.”

“then i suppose just this once, i won’t leave him out to freeze,” he relents. 

you realize for a moment, alhaitham had never drawn the line in the first place. perhaps it was always just you, making rules in your head when all he ever did was want you from the start. he waited so patiently for you, so you cup his cheeks and pull him closer, giving him one more firm kiss as a reward for all you put him through. he pulls away, dazed as he stares at you with unfocused eyes. 

“i’ll give you another like that if you run me a warm bath,” you say cheekily. 

“do i get to join this bath,” he raises a brow, eyeing you in amusement as his hands rub soothingly into your hips. 

you pretend to think for a moment, mockingly tapping your chin in deep thought before you murmur, “okay, fine. but no funny business.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it—”

“hello?” kaveh’s slurred call interrupts, followed by rough knocking. 

“he can freeze,” alhaitham says bitterly.

“don’t you dare!” you gasp, fighting back a laugh as he looks at you miserably.

well…….what was supposed to be maybe 4-5k words at best has…..gotten quite out of hand LOL. 14k words later i present to you my official love letter to alhaitham. anyway i suppose this fic stems from sometimes wondering if i would be compatible with the characters i enjoy. but the question is not whether or not you’re compatible, but whether or not you’re willing to put in the work to make compatibility. and alhaitham would certainly do that. anyway!!! i hope you enjoyed. i’m not sure if many peiple will read this, but if you do, reblogs and comments are really appreciated! giving you all a hug and reminding you that your favs would 100% want you <3

just friends

word count: 5,393

pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Fem!Reader

warnings: literally all fluff. maybe some swearing lol 

a/n: this literally was supposed to be a short fluffy drabble and turned into a full on fic haha. I wrote a lot of this while I was half asleep so please excuse any spelling mistakes haha. I hope you guys like it! 💕 gif below isn’t mind, creds to the original creator!

haikyuu masterlist

Your window was only open slightly, meant for allowing the cool air to flow in, while also aiding for a certain somebody’s quick escape if it came down to that.

The Fukurōdani Academy Group Summer Camp started tomorrow. Well. Today, if you count the fact that it was already 2AM.

It had originally been 11PM. 3 hours ago, Akaashi Keiji had crawled up the side of your house and tapped his knuckles ever so softly on your window. It had freaked you out for a second until he texted you “Lemme in”, to which you then moved to the window to greet him with a confused look.

“Akaashi, if my parents hear you-” you started, glancing over your shoulder and hoping they hadn’t somehow managed to get to your bedroom door without you noticing.

“Then stay quiet and help me in,” he shrugged, slowly plopping into your room and smiling down at you. “How’s your evening?”

You just stared at him, “Akaashi, it’s late!” You hissed as he crawled into your bed and got comfortable like he was meant to be there. “What’re you doing awake anyways? Don’t you have to be up early for your training camp?”

Akaashi just gave a hum and a nod, patting the other side of the bed he wasn’t currently occupying and giving you a smile. You rolled your eyes and tucked yourself in next to him. It didn’t matter that the two of you were slightly squished, if anything your bed actually felt comfier this way.

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seeing the thread

↬ wc: 7.9k

↬ pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

↬ genre: angst, fluff, soulmate au

↬ summary: in a world where everyone can see their red threads when their soulmate’s near, it seems your soulmate can’t see the thread that runs from your pinky finger to his. at the age of 6, you don’t understand what it means for you.

– send an ask to be on my gen taglist or fill out my form in navi!!

the very first time you see your red thread is in a playground, at the age of six.

you’re a bubbly little girl, bright smiles and playful laughter. (h/c) hair always wound up in a short little high ponytail; very little deters you.

the playground you’re always keen on visiting is a small public park – a little red sandbox to the side, a set of blue plastic swings in the middle and a tiny pink merry-go-round, complete with little yellow ducklings and white rabbits, is off to one side.

next to it is a seesaw, light brown in color, but painted on with childish scribbles and doodles, depicting fantasies of dragons, knights and princesses, mermaids and fairies, ones that can only exist in a child’s mind.

none of these are your favorite however; no, your favorite, like so many other children, is the colorful plastic sides on the right side of the playground.

there are twisting and winding lime green colored slides, ones that make your tummy twist and turn, but ultimately end with you shrieking in laughter and wiggling your toes as you slide down.

then there’s closed tube slides, a dark purple – your favorite spot to hide is in their comfortable tunnels, wedged in between the slide’s walls. (you always end up stopping the traffic of children, for which you are on the receiving end of all their complaints.)

but your very favorite out of all these slides is the tall, majestic, deep orange slide in the center of them all. you’ve always been warned not to go on that slide, for it is far too fast and too tall for someone of your age and stature.

never one for rules, whenever your mother has her head turned away, you run up the steps leading to the slide, fast as you can; and go sliding down with a loud squeal, little arms waving haphazardly.

your mother jolts every time she hears, but shakes her head fondly; reprimanding you never does any good – you simply never learn.

it’s on a day like this – in the very same little park you always visit, that you catch your first glimpse of the red silken thread from legends of old.

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