The Storyteller (Oikawa Tooru x reader)

1. the opening paragraph

You lived to write.

There was something about the thrilling sensation of spilling words across a blank sheet, painting a once blank piece of paper with sentences of unabashed emotion and description that made your heart pound in your chest. Writing was like breathing; no, it was more than that, to you it was a sacred art form that made you feel so much at once, in so little time.

Whether you had a pen in your hand, was seated at a computer, or maybe even a typewriter, you found such wonderful peace in spilling out your thoughts, using synonyms that others might not understand, but to you it was precious. You see, the beauty of writing was that not everybody could understand. Perhaps you could choose to reach a select audience, or it might be universal.

That was what made it so magical! It was like you had no limits, you could forever push the boundaries of reality, the confines of society.

However, there was a problem. If, so to speak, you had to write a story you didn't want to, that would be the worst feeling in the world. Like drowning in your own monstrous creation, only able to watch in horror as it did the exact opposite of what you wanted.

Unfortunately, over time, that was what you came to be doing. Yet it wasn't like that when you started.

-

"(Y/n)," your friend, Yukira Rin, spoke, from next to you, from behind her curtain of gorgeous black hair. She'd stopped eating her onigiri, and her serious tone signalled to you that she had been thinking about a certain topic for quite some time now. "Could I ask a favour of you?"

You looked up from your food, and then placed down your chopsticks (albeit rather reluctantly, you were hungry as hell), giving her your full attention. "What's up?" you questioned nonchalantly, leaning over your table so you could hear her more clearly.

"As you know, I, uh, have feelings for Oikawa-kun," she mumbled, and you had to hold back an exasperated sigh.

Were you really having this conversation again? What had happened now, had he winked at her from across the hall or some bullshit, when it was probably her own wild, romanticised imagination? God, you were so exhausted of hearing about Oikawa this, Oikawa that.

You weren't about to deny that he was good looking, yes, you'd give him that; but was that all people really liked about him? Did he have any other admirable qualities? Who knew? Probably only people he considered his friends, and that did not include his fanclub for sure. As far as you were aware, he was closest with his volleyball team, who seemingly bullied him playfully on a regular basis.

"It's not fair, (Y/n)," Rin whined, frowning to herself, as a light pink tainted her cheeks. "You're in his class. You get to see him every day, even if you never talk to him because you're pathetically shy," there was a slight unsavoury mocking tone to her voice as she said this.

You swallowed, letting out a short breath, before plastering a smile onto your face with difficulty. "Well, it's better than me flirting with him, right?"

"Don't say that!" Rin giggled, slapping your arm, the hit stinging slightly, but you'd take it over her half intended pokes at your insecurities any day. "So, as I was saying," she continued, "since you're in your class, could you... talk to him for me? Get him to like me?"

"How am I supposed to do that?" you argued. "Didn't you just say I was pathetically shy?"

"Yes, but," Rin paused, trying to string her words together, "y-you'd do it for me, right?"

You were silent, watching her fiddle with a lock of her silky hair. God, Rin was lucky, she had been blessed with looks from a young age; she received a stunning amount of confessions each year, and yet had only dated twice, and since 'falling in love' with Oikawa Tooru, she'd focused all her attention on trying to get his attention.

You, on the other hand, were morally convinced that you'd been given the genetics of a turd, never having dated anybody in your life, and had never received a confession either. Your love life was about as alive as the dinosaurs.

"Please, (Y/n)," Rin pleaded, looking at you with helpless eyes (god, she was in deep), "you're the only one I trust to do this out of all of my friends. And I'm your only friend! You'd do this for your friend, wouldn't you?" she questioned, making it sound almost rhetorical.

Your eyes dropped to your lap, where you found your fists clenched, shaking against your thighs. "Ha," you choked out a laugh, "I guess when you put it like that, I don't have a choice."

"Oh thank you!" your friend teared up, standing up and bowing to you in gratitude. "Thank you so much, (Y/n)!"

Yes, now she thanked you, after guilt tripping you. It felt so wrong, why were you bowing to this? You'd be better off without any friends anyway, it would be much less bothersome...
Yet you found yourself ducking your head, your smile so wide it hurt, disguising your conflicting, screaming mess of emotions in your head.

"It's no problem at all," you whispered through gritted teeth.

-

Your story began calm, composed, as you began to write it on a sheet of paper, the title gleaming like gold: 'The Love Story of Yukira Rin and Oikawa Tooru'.

So simple, so pure. It was a plain story, with no backbone, no motivation.

Boring.

That would soon change; for over time, the sentences would creep up on you, the paragraphs you'd written absentmindedly would tower over you, pushing you into a corner, as the emotions in your descriptions would steadily become more about you and him, and less about them.

You would be dragged, kicking and screaming, into a mess of feelings you never asked for, and your fake writing would break in front of you, revealing so much more than you would've ever thought, your broken words haunting you with a vengeance.

A/n: IM SPAM UPDATING THIS CUZ IM LITERALLY SO EXCITED FOR THIS STORY ADKZJJSJSGSJG