#normally i'm not one to do angst but i woke up and chose violence today ehehe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thebahwrites · 1 year

Note

Hey!!! If you’re still doing prompts then please do Icemav + talking about death please :)

Icemav + Death talks To read listening: I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab for Cutie CW: Heavy angst, injury, blood mention, car crashes death talks I don't usually add these to these warmup prompts but today I woke up and chose violence so I'm putting this under a read more, no one dies but you get the idea.

Love of mine Someday you will die But I'll be close behind I'll follow you into the dark

"What do you think there is? At the end."

"Mav, stop talking, for once." Or don't. Tom couldn't think quite clearly, which was a first for him — so much for being ice cold when it got down to this. It did occur to him that maybe this was why relationships of people in the same squad weren't allowed because right now thinking became some form of extreme exercise, the convoluted kind ; like trying to find space in a crowded shelf for another knicknack. His hands are shaking, why are his hands shaking? Had the ice finally made all the way into his bones?

"You'd miss the sound of my voice, admit it, Kazansky." Maverick jabs again but there's just the slight hint of strain underlining the words that make Iceman even colder, ironic as it was. It was so damn cold but Tom isn't sure his hands are shaking because of the snow falling around them. It hurts.

"Yeah I would." He's forced to admit to at leas try and focus on something here.

"There's nothing else for you to do, Tom, give it up." Pete hums, talking all too casually for someone whose head and neck were bleeding so heavily that Tom felt like getting sick. The kind of sick he'd feel when a missile rushed right by his cockpit but didn't hit, swerving by the skin of his teeth. He still wouldn't let up, hands wrapped around the man in his arms, cradling that, thankfully so warm, body like it was his mother's fine china. Maverick had always been smaller than him, alright, but right now he felt small. Fragile, even. And Iceman who was never afraid, the man who never hesitated, felt like a helpless child.

"Ambulance's gonna be here soon, c'mon, just keep me busy here." Mav offers and if the man hadn't just been sent through the windshield of their car Ice might have strangled him right there — how dare he be the one comforting him? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Trust that creature to be a maverick of his own.

"Even if you were dying, which you aren't just so we're very clear, this isn't a conversation I ever felt like having, you know?" Maybe it's a snippy response, snippier than it normally would have been — as if he isn't feeling like discussing death and mortality with a man bleeding out on the side of the road in his arms.

"I'm not afraid of dying." Pete's words aren't, somehow, a surprise.

"To no one's surprise, Mav." Maybe there wasn't, in fact, anything he could do other than keep the man's focus and attention on this conversation; even if it meant indulging in what was at best a terrible topic and at worst a terrifying telling of this car crash they found themselves in. Ice runs shaky fingertips over Maverick's bloodied forehead, not really doing much but it felt warm under gelid digits.

"Are you?" Of course Pete would ask that. Tom sighs through his teeth, caving to the whims of that stubborn little man, pushing into that conversation. Pete Mitchell could always get whatever he wanted from him, whatever it was, that short man recklessly held Tom Kazansky's heart in the palm of his hand.

"I am, actually." Ice admits defeat all to easily, finally peeling his gaze away from the man on his lap, eyes falling on the Christmas lights around them, red and white and yellow, the spotty other colorful hues here and there. "Wanting to live is what keeps me fighting to not lose, I think that's where we differ, Mav." It's not that Tom didn't think about it often, he just had better things to think about most of his time. But he looks down and catches curious, though bloodshot, green eyes watching his face ever so attentively.

"I don't know what's at the end, to answer your question but I don't think it matters that much either... I think it's the whole of the journey that counts." His voice feels steadier now, watching Pete's features ever so closely, they're all alone in the world for now. Surrounded by the distant lights, fading Christmas carols, quietly falling snow and the smoldering wreckage of the car; all vague witnesses to this small tragedy. Maverick's blood dripping ever so quietly, staining Iceman's jeans into a painting he wished to forget. "I think... whatever's at the end, it's the whole of my life that should make it count... maybe afraid isn't the right word, the thing is, I don't want to die, I want to stay here, with you."

Tom wonders if he's said the wrong thing when Pete falls silent, which in any other setting would've warranted a finally! from him. But it doesn't, instead, he only knows the man hasn't passed out because he can see pondering eyes.

"I think I lied." Maverick finally speaks, voice a little shaky, hands coming up to find Iceman's wrist, a thumb sliding into his pulse point. "I think I am afraid of death... just not mine."

If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks Then I'll follow you into the dark

#icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x maverick #ficlet #writing warmups #top gun fic #whump #//no idea what's of this

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Note

Howdy! I woke up and chose violence!

catastrophic blues, eddie munson, with the dialogue prompts of "holy shit, that's a lot of blood..." and "stay with me... please." :)

Sorry in advance everyone, because I truly hope you catch onto which specific scene I'm hoping you write lmao. Do your worst.

checkmate, nonnie. you said do my worst, and this? this... is my worst. because i refuse to write eddie actually dying haha.

fair warning - if you have not read my fic 'the shire is burning' or the first chapter of 'so mordor it is', this won't make much sense to you/probably won't affect you like it did me. the oc here is willow from that series.

and now, a fair warning to those of you who have read - this is not canon. this is not even in the realm of canon. this is not an excerpt from that fic and this will not be a scene in that fic. i repeat - this is not canon. but an awful part of me has always wanted to write this scene with willow inserted so.... idk. i'm stupid. i'm also saying sorry because... well, bleh. at least i got it out of my system, yeah? also, i may or not be running on spite from that anon, hence me dragging eddie and willow onto this hellsite. so if that anon is reading - this is my big middle finger to you of sorts. (i already thought of this before the celebration, and i also considered this scenario when i first got the request before the slew of hateful anons. but.. yeah)

WARNINGS: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH (OC, NOT EDDIE), descriptions of blood and extreme violence, severe angst and absolutely no comfort. seriously. this is heavy, 3k words heavy. if it's not for you, it's not for you. that's okay.

which is why if you'd rather not read this scenario, i have written a shorter and less intense reply to this request that you can find here.

alright. sorry. rant over and warnings over. please take the warnings serious.

1k celebration - come party with me! (requests are not normally this sad unless angst is requested, i swear. we actually were having fun over here.)

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

There had been a plan. There had been clear instructions. The three of them were to distract the bats, capture their attention long enough for the others to follow through with their missions, and then get the Hell out of there.

They weren’t supposed to play heroes. Not today.

There is no shame in running.

So why wasn’t he running?

Dustin had already pulled himself up through the gate, toppling to safety on the other side, back in their world. He’s waiting expectantly for the two of them with wide eyes and shaking breaths from adrenaline.

She’s already halfway up the rope when it hits her. The wave of deja vu, the wave of familiarity.

She’s been here before.

Eddie still stands beneath her, hands anxiously pressed into her thighs as she dangles against the make-shift rope, encouraging her to hurry. Her arms are burning, muscles shaking with strain. If she doesn’t make quick of lurching through, her body is sure to give out and lose strength.

“Why did you stop? C’mon!” Eddie gives another shove to her thighs. His hands are sure to leave bruises at this point.

She’s been here before.

Her dreams. Her nightmares. Her visions. She’s been here before, hanging onto the sheets and looking down at her beautiful boy beneath her. She’s been here before, throwing herself back through a gate to the background symphony of screeching creatures trying to tear their way into a trailer that is a distorted mirror image of one she’s grown to call a second home over the last several months. Nearly a year now.

“Red!” Eddie snaps as a bang sounds somewhere in the trailer, “Go.”

His voice is strained, tight and desperate and terrified. That’s all they’ve felt this week: fear. Unbridled fear that has chilled her to her bones without relent.

None of that fear has penetrated through her chest quite as painfully as the one that strikes her now. She’s been here before, and this is not how it is supposed to go.

She finally drops from the rope, losing her grip and falling backwards. He’s quick to press his palms into her shoulder blades to keep her upright as she gets lucky, landing on her feet, chest heaving as her muscles now scream with relief.

“Willow Victoria Jenkins, get up that fucking rope or I’m dragging you up there myself-”

“You go first,” she begs, cutting him off effectively, “Go before me. Now.”

She’s been here before.

“What?” his eyebrows furrow, chest heaving as he keeps glancing over his shoulder, over to the poorly boarded up door, “No, I- what? No, I’ll go after you-”

“Eddie, climb that rope before me or, with God as my witness, I won’t so much as touch that thing again-” at her words, he’s shaking his head furiously, thrusting the sheets back into her hands, but she only lifts them up and steps away to emphasize her point, “No. Go, now.”

If she goes up the rope before him, he won’t follow her. She can’t let him do that.

There is no shame in running.

He was an idiot. An idiot who couldn’t take his own advice. She should have known better — she did know better.

“Red, I’m not going without you-“

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Then why not go before me? Please, I’m begging you,” another bang, and they both jump. It’s then that he looks into her eyes, and he sees it. That fear digging its claws into her. That memory of a nightmare she can’t let come true. The realization settles heavily across his face, “You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that-”

“You don’t trust that I’ll follow you up the rope.”

She doesn’t know what he wants her to say. It’s not a matter of trust; it’s a matter of knowing he won’t follow her.

The tears that burn her eyes must be enough to convince him that she has her reasons, that it goes beyond something petty like that, because he lays his armor down instantly. His shoulders sink, the corners of his mouth turn downward, and his eyes close in defeat as he sighs, “Fine.”

He’s faster than her when he has his hold on the rope, tugging himself up with significantly less effort. He doesn’t look back at her to make sure she’s already reaching to follow him – he trusts her.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but she should know better.

She has every intention to follow him, the same faith placed in him that she’s had since day one, back in trivial times of pretend and make believe. When she had faith he was the right fake boyfriend. When she had faith he’d make a good friend by the end of it all. When she had faith that her path was always supposed to cross with

Her hands have barely curled around the worn sheets, not quite as soft as the ones she’s slept in time after time due to the caking debris from this world, when she gets it.

Watching him in her nightmare let go of the rope had infuriated her. It had torn her clean in two, watching as he’d severed their connection and sent them down different paths. She didn’t know how he did it so easily – how he left her so easily.

She knows now.

The fear has subsided as she watches him land onto the mattress on the other side and watches Dustin rush to grab him eagerly. He’s safe. He’s okay.

But the bats are still vicious against the trailer. She can hear them breach his bedroom down the hall.

They don’t have a way to close the gate. Not yet.

She gets it. If she follows them, if she doesn’t continue to serve as a distraction, they’ll follow them into the real world. All her efforts and all her love, all her care and all her months spent getting to know the two boys on the other side will be in vain.

There are some stories in which the endings never change. You can shift the circumstances, you can swap pawns, but they will always end the same. Just because she had spared Eddie from the doomed fate of her dream doesn’t mean she’s spared them all. Someone still has to play the role of the distraction.

Her heart is beating in her ears, and she’s glad for it so she can’t hear Dustin or Eddie’s screams as she grabs one of their discarded weapons and slices at their rope.

Severs the ties. Severs herself from Eddie. Severs herself from all that she cares for, in order to save it.

The blame that had twisted in her gut at him before dissipates. There’s no longer a question of if she’d do the same for him if the roles were reversed; they stand in opposing positions now, and she is doing as he had.

She won’t look up at them once she does it. Unlike Eddie in her dream, she won’t face the reality of her decision.

The sheets seemingly fall in slow motion into a crumpled pile. An edge of them falls over her sneakers.

She’s never been here before, but she knows what she has to do.

“Red!”

She’s never heard his voice like that before, and she can’t face him. She can’t face the look she knows he wears, the broken expression and the twist of pain, the sheer panic as the last eight months flashes before his eyes. She can’t let the knife of it drive into her chest, because if she does, she won’t go through with it. If she doesn’t go through with it, they all die.

“Willow, what are you doing?” Dustin’s broken voice comes through next, and it hurts as much as Eddie’s shaken tone.

Dustin has Eddie. If she plays her cards right, he’ll have Eddie, and Steve, and Robin. He’ll have Max. He’ll be alright.

She only responds once she’s grabbed the shield of nails that Eddie had tossed aside, echoing words that have haunted her since she first watched them fall from Eddie’s lips in the nightmare.

“Buying more time.”

It’s only then that she risks looking up to the boys, taking one final glance at the two of them.

Dustin Henderson, a young boy who had continued to exceed her expectations at every turn, who she would die to protect from any more harm.

Eddie Munson, the boy she loves. The boy she would die in the place of.

She hardly catches sight of his face before he’s a flurry on the other side, rushing to find a way to get to her, to get her back the same way she had rushed to do in the vision. But in that brief second, she locks his details to memory one last time. The soft pink of his lips, the soft curve of his nose, the freckle below his right eye. Details she isn’t sure she can catch sight of in full focus with the distance between them and the fleeting moment, but ones she’s seen enough times to play them like a movie behind her eyelids. Her boy. The one she’s leaving her heart with as she turns and lets the story continue to play out.

She has an advantage Eddie didn’t. She knows where the holes in the road will be as she hops onto the abandoned bike and pedals so hard that her entire body is lit aflame. The scream of the bats are on her back, but she still misses the hole that had sent him flying in her dream. She makes it several paces farther, and for a moment, she thinks that she’ll make it far enough that the ending might change.

She’s a fool. She supposed she picked that up from Eddie.

There’s a vine, a part of the hivemind, she swears she will miss on her current path. But then, it’s as if it reaches out and grips the front wheel of the bike, latching on with intent as it sends her flying and toppling into dirt and gravel. Her knees are now scraped, and if she survives this, she knows that bruises will be blooming across her torso.

She can’t stop now. She has to get up, has to try and run as she balances the shield and spear. If she stops now, she won’t change the ending.

None of it matters. It never did.

The bats still catch up with her. The spear and the shield are still useless against their advances. And screams, human screams, still echo through the Upside Down as a body is pulled into a cloud of dust.

This time the body is not Eddie’s. It’s Willow’s.

She can’t think through the pain as they tear through her clothes, her skin, seemingly her bones. All she can do is scream herself hoarse and fling herself about.

When it’s over, when the bats begin to drop one by one in the tell-tale sign that her friends have won, she can’t move. She’s motionless on the ground and each breath is ragged, wet with blood and gasping shallowness.

She hears Eddie before she sees him.

“Willow,” he sobs out, collapsing to his knees at her side as his hands begin to flit over her wounds, “No, no, no.”

It was always going to end like this, wasn’t it?

“Please, please, fuck-” he gasps out as his hands turn crimson with her blood.

A distorted mirror image to her dream.

She can see the freckle now that he’s closer. She focuses on it, unable to feel the warmth from his palms through the chill.

His hands still work in a useless effort. She can hardly decipher the pressure he applies to a particularly deep wound as she watches tears begin to fall. Shining tears, forming as constellations in his eyelashes before they become falling stars across his cheeks.

“I- No-” he stutters, unable to form a sentence, “You said you were going to follow me. You… You said-”

She catches sight of his hands. As red with her blood as hers had been with his in her nightmare.

If it were any other circumstances, if she didn’t know the ending, she would have tried to comfort him. But her head is swimming and she’s lost all feeling in her torso now.

All she can muster out is, “Holy shit,” a shattering gasp fills her pause, “That’s… that’s a lot of blood.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile. There is no joking in a time like this. He just continues meaningless efforts through his cries.

She hadn’t even heard Dustin following him. When the boy is on her opposite side, speechless, trembling, she barely notices the movement.

“Willow…” Dustin whispers, hands reaching to join Eddie’s before he thinks better and retracts them, “I…”

“Henderson,” Eddie is a crazed man as he suddenly rips the bandana off from his head, thrusting it to the younger boy, “Wrap her leg in this now.”

And Dustin doesn’t have to be told twice, not when Eddie is the way he is now. Her blood is now on the boy’s hands as well.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispers, feeling blood trickle out the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t even feel when Dustin tightens the make-shift tourniquet on her.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. But she had no choice.

“Don’t be sorry, stay alive,” Eddie snaps at her, not looking at her. It kills her. Ironically, more than the wounds.

A sharp pain shoots through her as he tries to apply pressure to one of her chest wounds. He’s beginning to mutter to himself, breaking hysterical now.

“I can fix this,” he repeats to himself on loop. Dustin only stares, “I can fix this. I can fix this. I can fix-”

“Eddie, please look at me,” she pleads with him. A dying wish he can’t deny her.

Big, brown eyes look into hers. A million unspoken words and fading moments. And all she can think is she’s glad it’s her and not him.

So she tells him as much, “I’m sorry. I-If it wasn’t… If it wasn’t me… It w-would have been you. And I- I couldn’t, I couldn’t…”

I couldn’t watch you die. Not again. Not for real, this time.

He immediately knows. He deflates, but he knows. She knew what was going to happen when she cut the rope. She knew how it ended.

His anger is kept beneath the surface, because they both know if this is the last moments between them, he doesn’t want to spend them angry with her. Angry for her doing for him as he would for her.

“You knew,” if it weren’t for the tears still streaking his face, the words would have come out flatly, “You fucking knew. You… you idiot… You…”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats herself. Her tongue peeks out to swipe across her lips, and all she tastes is copper, “I love you.”

She has to say it now. She has to make it be know to make up for all the times she bit her tongue, all the times she waited. Thinking they had more time, thinking she’d have a lifetime to remind him of it.

They don’t have any more time. The hourglass is nearly empty.

Those three words break him, and she can make out his shoulders shaking as her vision starts to blur.

“I love you,” he returns, the haunting voice of a desperate man, “I fucking love you. Stay with me, please.”

She wants to. God, she wants to. His arms wrap around her and he tugs her into his lap, beginning to simply cradle her, his efforts finally surrendered.

Dustin finally speaks up, “W-We can still get her to a hospital. We can take her back to the gate. We can get her to the hospital, and they’ll help her. They’ll save her. It’ll be fine. It- It has to be fine.”

It won’t be fine. She knows it, but she finds herself too weak to tell Dustin that.

Even if she had the strength she wouldn’t be able to.

“Re-” Eddie starts, abruptly cutting himself off as if he realizes that right now, while she’s still with him, the last thing he wants to waste precious breaths on is a nickname. She wants to insist he call hers it, though, as it helps spread warmth through her bones as it always had. She loves when he calls her that. She always did, even when she would fight him on it.

“Willow,” he finally corrects himself. She wishes she could feel his thumb swiping at her cheek, slow and surely gentle, soft as it always had been when it came to her, “Please, baby, stay with me.”

More words might have been exchanged between Dustin and Eddie, but Willow can’t hear them anymore.

She stares at his face, at the freckle. At the cheeks and lips she had kissed countless times. At the eyes she had seen entire undiscovered universes countless times.

It was worth it, she decided. It all was worth it to have known and to have loved Eddie Munson.

He had once told her that to die at her hand, to die from and to die for her, would be a heavenly way to go. For her to be the death of him was a way he’d be proud to go.

He was right, she thinks, fading, fading, fading. What a heavenly way to die.

Eddie Munson’s face is the last one that Willow Jenkins sees.

#1k celebration #thank u ily #eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #shire #mordor #i need to stop being bitter about the anon lol #willow and eddie will always be my beloved i could never actually do this in the fic

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lovelytarou · 3 years

Text

“𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫”

character(s) — bokuto koutarou

genre — fluff, angst

word count — 2.2k

summary — bokuto has always been the center of your world. as you grew closer every day, you had decided that you'll confess to him one day or...he would confess to you. oh, how you were wrong.

note — today i woke up and chose violence >:) and also happy late birthday to my baby, my beloved, my starboy, bokuto koutarou! and with that, i chose to instead write angst for my fave. hope you all enjoy! hehe >:))

Bokuto Koutarou was used to the spotlights – the cheering fans, the people coming up to him for a photo and an autograph, the satisfaction that comes with winning matches in volleyball.

It felt great. Euphoric, even. He felt invincible during these moments, like he could do anything.

That's one of the reasons why you like him. No, love him. Your friend once joked that your admiration had transcended the level of an innocent crush and turned into a full blown obsession with the spiky haired boy.

That and his friendliness – his lips seeming to be in a permanent smile every time you see him. Always surrounded by a bunch of his friends, rotating around him like he's the sun. You feel for them, really. You should know, your entire world revolves around him.

It could have been boredom, it could have been the lack of students he knew, or it could have been because he's interested in you, but he approached you one day in class and tapped you on your shoulder.

“Hey, what class was this again?”

You were shocked to say the least. Partly from Bokuto not knowing what class he was in and for the most part because, well, he talked to you. This is, like, your luckiest day ever.

Stammering for a bit, you made sure to blink twice just so you know you weren't dreaming and that the man you've been pining for how many years now is talking to you.

“Um...History?” You softly mumbled.

Bokuto sat back in his seat, nodding with a huge 'O' forming on his lips.

“Thanks a lot!” He gave you one of his famous beams and you swear that your heart might have stopped beating at that moment.

“No problem!” You were about to face the front when he tapped you again.

“Sorry, but I don't think we've met. What did you say your name was again?”

“Y/N.”

His smile got even bigger at that and he chuckled, offering you his large hand. With wide eyes and an even rapidly beating heart, you clasped it carefully on your own before shaking it gently. His hand felt calloused, you supposed it was because of playing volleyball for years. They felt warm, and you wished you could've held it longer when he pulled back, feeling your heart sink a little.

“That's a beautiful name, I like it! I'm Bokuto!”

He introduced himself as if half of the campus didn't know him by now, but you played along telling him that it's nice to meet him.

Since then, you two were almost always inseparable. He would invite you to join him and his friends at lunch, even offering to study together or just simply hang out. You didn't mind it one bit. You figured it's a good way to get closer to Bokuto and get a glimpse at what his world looks like outside the spotlight.

Being with Bokuto is like riding a rollercoaster. Without the seatbelts. It's as wild and as crazy as you expected it to be and Bokuto himself is a whirlwind you can only manage to keep up with.

He's always busy talking to one person or a group of them, always with his clique and never alone. You guessed it was part of his charm. But it doesn't matter how many people he's with – when you're with him, it feels like you two are the only person in the room.

He sometimes shows you that he's not always the golden boy most people make him to be. He's just as imperfect and like any other normal guy out there.

You both clicked immediately with your same interests and even on some that you have no interest in, just so you could spend more time with Bokuto and get to know him.

Every class with him, you hoped you would get paired or even be groupmates. You realized it wasn't that hard to work with Bokuto, and instead it was fun. He kept you both motivated working with each other, even recommending you songs that were oddly composed of love songs. Nevertheless, you were thankful for those moments. They felt special to you, and you hold them very dear to your heart.

You just realized one day that, ‘oh shit, I'm in love with him.’

If he notices, he doesn't say anything about it. You became even closer to Bokuto, even talking til the late hours about anything and nothing at all.

Those hours felt religious to you – his groggy voice rumbling through the speakers as you stared at his sleepy face. Eyes crinkling when he smiles, his white hair soft and down as he laid on top of his bed.

“You'd come to our next match, right?” He asked, yawning afterwards.

Chuckling at how cute he is, you nodded.

“Of course, Bo. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” If only he knew that you've been to his games since day one. You never missed any games. Whether they win or lose, you're there.

“That's what I love about you, Y/N! You're always so supportive of me!” As he laughed boisterously, you ignored the fast thumping of your heart at his outburst. Surely, he doesn't mean that? He was just excited, right? Yet, a part of you wishes what he said was true.

“Haha yeah, that's what friends are for, right?”

Needless to say, you didn't get any sleep that night.

It only got stronger from there. You almost can't go a day without seeing Bokuto's beautiful face. It wouldn't be a great day without your starboy.

“Y/N!”

The familiar voice of Bokuto made you jump as he ran towards you in the hallway. He had a huge grin on his face, and you couldn't help but mirror it. His smiles are just contagious.

His arms are spread wide and he scooped you off your feet, spinning you around and setting you down but not legging go of you yet.

“Y/N! Y/N! We won! Did you see it?! It was awesome! My spike was like BAAAM! And the opponent was like WHAAAT?!” You laughed at his over dramatic retelling of the game. Although, that's not how it really went, you let him have his fun.

Your face heated up at the close proximity between you two. Staring up at him as he rambles off, his face is glistening with sweat but strangely enough, it didn't bother you. He's literally glowing with the aftermath of their victory and how can you not bask in it?

“Yeah, you were really great out there, Bo.” You hoped he didn't notice how lovesick you are for him.

His rambles stopped and stared down at you with big amber eyes. He blinked and for a while, you thought that you might have said something wrong, but then, he broke out into laughter and he hugged you tight once again.

“Let's go have dinner right now! My treat!”

“Wait, what about your teammates?” You slowly pushed off of him.

“Don't worry about them. We can call this a...date!” It's hard to refuse when he's got that look on his face. And really, how could you? This is the guy you're in love with and he just outright asked you out on a date. You're on cloud nine right now.

So you two walked off, his hand in yours into what you'd call the best night of your life.

Days have passed and your feelings for Bokuto have grown stronger and more overwhelming as you tried to not so subtly hide it from him. Your friends even thought you were dating already when you told them your plan.

Strangely, Akaashi, who's Bokuto's best friend has pulled you aside that same day with worry etched on his face. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and he couldn't meet your gaze.

“Y/N, I have something to tell you…” He hesitated, heaving a sigh. “Maybe you should think deeply about what you're planning to do.”

“Why?” You see no problems in this, but Akaashi's reaction made you think that maybe he's right.

“Bokuto's not worth it. I know I'm his best friend and I shouldn't say these things about him but...you'll only hurt yourself if you do this. Trust me.”

Your brows furrowed in anger, “No, you listen to me, Akaashi! Bokuto wouldn't hurt me and I know he likes me, okay?”

You didn't give him any chance to speak as you walked off to where you thought Bokuto would be.

It might be weird to see Bokuto in a library but there he was, nose in a book – which you caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a romance novel. Next to him were piles of the same genre.

“I didn't take you for the romantic type.” You teased as you sat beside him.

His head turned to your side twice before he realized it was really you beside him.

“Oh! It's you...aren't we all?” He replied coolly which you rolled your eyes at.

You took one of the books from his pile and eyed the cover. Soon enough, your curiosity won over.

“Why are you reading romance novels, Bo? It's not for someone specific, is it?” You joked, flipping through the pages and after about a beat, you turned to Bokuto to ask why he had gotten silent all of a sudden.

Bokuto put down the book he was reading a while ago and instead his hands are now wringing the hem of his shirt with a look that looks like fear on his face.

“What's wrong, Bo?”

“Let's say that I have this friend who likes someone and he wants to show them that they like them because he thinks they like him back. What do you think he should do?” When he blurts out his worries in one breath he glanced your way expectantly.

Your heart did somersaults inside your chest. Maybe you have a chance after all.

“Oh! Uh...if it were me, I'd say be honest. Be straight to the point and tell them how he really feels. It's better that way than beating around the bush, anyways.”

Bokuto nodded, exhaling. “Right. Be straight to the point. Be honest.”

And then, he turned to you with one of his winning smiles that you had grown to love.

“Thanks, Y/N! You're the best!” As he engulfed you into a hug, you can't stop feeling excited and hopeful that maybe, just maybe he returned your feelings.

You were at the edge of your seat and at the edge of your sanity that week. Waiting for something – anything – to happen. You haven't seen Bokuto in a few days, but you figured he might just be busy with practice, but even then he lets you tag along with him. You thought nothing of it and continued walking towards your next class when a familiar voice called you.

You almost didn't notice Bokuto standing near the lockers. You swore your heart stopped at the sight of him in front of you. He looked handsome. But if you're being honest, when is he not?

He walked towards you with a beautiful bouquet in hand. He was fidgety and nervous, but he still wore his wonderful smile.

Time seemed to have stopped and there were just the two of you again. Your eyes stayed locked on his and for a moment, you didn't blink. Fearing that you'll miss this important moment you've been waiting for.

“Y/N...I need to ask you something.” He said in a low voice, eyes looking sincere and searching yours.

“Yeah?”

Here it is, you thought. The big question. He'd drop on his knees, present the bouquet to you and ask you to be his. You'd wrap your arms around him, cry and tell him that you're all his.

But none of that happened.

“I got these for someone. Do you think the bouquet is perfect? I don't want to mess up my confession…” He fussed over his hair and tried to arrange the flowers even though they looked perfect. He looked perfect.

But he wasn't yours.

Your heart clenched painfully. You felt like you're running out of air to breathe. It's painful enough to look at Bokuto, but you couldn't keep your gaze away.

“O-of course, Bo! They're beautiful. I-I'm sure whoever that's meant for will l-love it.” You mentally cursed yourself for stumbling over your words in front of him.

He gave you a wobbly smile but this time, it hurt to look at him so happy like that for someone else. He gasped and his eyes widened, staring at something behind you.

“Oh, there they are! Wish me luck!” He stepped aside and walked behind you. Maybe you shouldn't have turned. Maybe you should have just gone inside your class as you should a few minutes ago.

But you cursed your curiosity and you cursed your stupid little heart as he took it with him. And there you watched as Bokuto beamed happily as he presented the bouquet to someone else. Someone that isn't you. Asking them to be his.

At that moment, only one thought remained in your mind. You wished you had listened to Akaashi.

#✏️ – signed by franz #🖤. bokuto koutarou #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader angst #bokuto x reader angst #bokuto angst #hq #hq x reader #hq angst #is it obvious i listened to traitor by olivia rodrigo as i wrote this? dgsjsk

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