#oikawa tooru x reader angst
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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 007 ]
“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”
c/w. modern royal au. infidelity. angst. gaslighting. toxic characters. suggestive. toxic relationships. mentions of neglect and abuse. hurt and comfort. it’s cringy when suna calls us ‘my love.’ half heartedly edited.
notes. this chapter is dedicated to all my fellow oikawa fuckers, enjoy <33 i’m really in love with how deep his character can be like lowkey he has more personality (as of now) than rintaro lol
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[ SEVEN ] i know you don’t really see my worth. you think you’re the last guy on earth, well, i’ve got news for you. i know i’m not that strong, but it won’t take long
“Would you stop pacing?” Prince Tooru reprimanded. His wife, the ever-so-sweet Maiko, jumped a little at the sting of his voice. She was no longer an alien to his harshness, nor was it anything new for her the way he sent daggers her direction. “It’s an eyesore.”
“My apologies, Your Highness. I just... I’m extremely worried for the Princess.”
The Prince kept flicking through the television. However, behind his uncaring facade, he shared the same sentiments as her. Everyone would be lying if they said the entire manor hadn’t been deadly quiet the entire night, save for the hushed whispers between your servants appalled by Rintaro’s display. Tooru was actually impressed they hadn’t called your parents by now. Your servants watched you grow up and had been loyal to your family for years, yet not a single one of them stopped the Crown Prince from dragging their precious Princess like she was nothing but prey. Then again, Tooru mused, maids from a noble family would never go against the crown.
“You heard what Kiyoomi said. The Princess wants space, and Suna will not let us step a foot outside either. We have no choice but to await her return.”
“Would she even return?”
Hearing the scuffle of her feet rubbing against the carpet one more time, Tooru dragged a palm down his face. “Look. I cannot answer your questions, so can we please just go to sleep?” Sleep, of course, meaning that Prince Tooru enjoyed the luxury of your guest room’s king-sized bed while his wife remained on the couch. Hell, he was kind enough to share the same room as her.
Unbothered by the Prince’s nonchalance, Maiko gazed at her feet and fiddled with her fingers.
“Your Highness, I-I know this sounds far-fetched of me, but would you grant me a small favour? I promise I would repay you generously—”
“If you offer to leave me the fuck alone for a month, I might consider it.”
Maiko’s head snapped up. Her husband held no trace of remorse on his face as he pulled the blankets under his chin, handsome as usual—as all the Princes were—even with his eyes peacefully closed. Such a sight made him look unbelievably gentle with the way soft, brown strands of hair brushed over his forehead. And Maiko, poor Maiko who never learned, had no choice but to swallow her pride and give in to the Prince’s request. Whether it was because she had been in love him with him for the longest time and this was the first, possibly last, chance he would ever hear out, Maiko prioritized your well-being over anything else.
“I...Of course, Your Highness. If it is what you wish.”
Tooru raised a brow in disbelief, eyes narrowed at his wife’s sagging shoulders. Just like that? Ah, but he wasn’t complaining. “Fine. What do you want?”
“Please find the Princess. O-Or at least check up on her, talk to her or something. Anything would be of great help as long as she knew she does not have to face this alone. The Princess is having a hard time and it breaks my heart to imagine she is all by herself—”
“Why don’t you go yourself if you care so badly?”
“Because...” Maiko frowned, “If the Crown Prince catches me, I am done for. He might be far more merciful to you considering you are his brother.”
“That is hilarious,” Tooru couldn’t hold back a guffaw. “You think Rintaro would be less bothered if his brother sought out his damsel in distress of a wife? Oh, how gold. Has it not crossed your mind that Rintaro is oddly possessive over his wife? He thinks either Kiyoomi and I will snag her up.”
“But you will not, so—”
“What if I did, hm?” he challenged. Instantly, Maiko held her breath, awaiting the threat—or rather the possibility—that Tooru didn’t jester. He had always made it clear how he didn’t want her. Expressing at any opportunity he could take about his desire to have had the privilege to choose who he could have been married to, and Maiko knew exactly what he was doing. The Prince, just like now, was simply reminding her the consequences of her actions. But she must have been a true masochist as she remained mum in her spot the longer he continued, sitting up now and tilting his head with a smirk. “The Princess is gorgeous. I could easily choose her over you any day, so let me ask—would you still want me to find her and lend her a shoulder to cry on?”
Be strong, Maiko—was what she must be thinking. And honestly? Tooru thought it was complete, utter bullshit. She could plant her feet on the ground as solidly as she could, but he refused to have his bones buried next to hers.
Maiko had already taken his life.
He should choose his own death now, and if that meant slowly driving a dagger deep into her heart and carving out his to place into the mercy of your hands—because god forbid, you would be death of everyone someday—then Tooru would have no regrets. To have his fate intertwined with yours, whether the outcome may be bitter or would shatter him to pieces, would be honourable. A heaven in comparison to the hell bowing his head at him right now.
“We are family now, Your Highness. She needs us.”
“I take that as a yes?” Tooru mocked. He didn’t wait for her response as he was swiping his car keys off the counter the next second, his jacket shrugged on and halfway out the door before he sang, “As you wish, my dear.”
There are some things Tooru would never admit out loud. One, how he grew up closest to Kiyoomi and Keiji out of their shared love for literature, and that those two brothers of his held one of his most embarrassing secrets on how Tooru loved romantic novels. Jane Austen? He personally booked a theatre all for himself just to watch the film adaptations of her works. Margaret Mitchell? Tooru had handmade notebooks buried deep within his study filled with his favourite lines from her in perfect cursive; the younger version of him fantasizing about what it felt like to yearn for somebody your being felt incomplete without them. Two, how grateful he was deep down that Maiko had asked him to find you, because truth be told, only Rintaro got in his way. He would have ran after you hours ago the moment his bastard brother returned to the manor without his wife in tow. But appearances must be kept, trouble must be avoided if it provided more conflict than entertainment, and looking at it now, Tooru didn’t quite regret his previous actions.
The pitch-black sky felt more comforting than haunting as he pulled out of the driveway and headed to town. Maiko informed him you were at your family’s bed and breakfast, quite possibly asleep, but fuck it, right? Tooru convinced himself he wasn’t doing this for his wife. Never for Maiko, but not quite for you, either. Other than having a miserably pretty face that wasn’t as adored as it should be, and a heart bigger than Maiko was capable of, Tooru came to a conclusion he was doing it for himself.
Yes, he was simply a bored prince. Dragged into the edge of the country with no phones to use since Maiko would just snoop around, and Rintaro didn’t help with the situation by driving everybody apart. Even Kiyoomi seemed more of a bore than usual. So yes, Tooru was fetching you for his own gain, because surely listening to a broken hearted woman weep about her woes sounded far more entertaining than pretending to be asleep back at the manor.
No. He did not care about you at all.
He does not care one bit as he found you minutes later, sulking like a little child on the swings under an old sycamore tree whose leaves danced amongst the wind. He would admit, however, that you were undeniably beautiful. You always had been.
With a fresh face that granted him the luxury of seeing how crestfallen, forlorn eyes could remain dull under the moonlight’s gleam, Tooru tightened his grip on the scotch bottle. He wondered how sadness could look so beguiling on someone—whatnot with the lines of your frown and the absence of light you usually emanated. You sat there unaware of his presence looming overhead of you before you kicked and up high you flew. Skirt flowing at the same time you finally turned your head to look up at the sky, eyes glistening with tears and kissable lips quivering with slow, shuddered breaths he knew held back a sob. Tooru couldn’t help but find it befitting how you would one day hold power over everyone, because you were capable of breaking hearts. You could ruin kingdoms and tear everything apart. Yet, Tooru also knew how gentle you could be. He had shared enough family dinners with you to grow envious—no matter if he was aware they were all a sham—with the way you and Rintaro would share knowing smiles with each other like you both spoke a secret language exclusive only for those who had experienced falling in love.
Was this why Rintaro was so adamant in keeping you?
Had his brother even looked at you this way?
You made princes like him who grew up skilled in the arts of swordsmanship and combat weak in the knees. All you had to do was keep kicking your feet and fly higher up in the air and Tooru wouldn’t have argued if somebody told him he saw a fairy that night. A fairy who shed tears for a man unworthy of it. A fairy who mourned for a love that was never hers and whose cries were as muted as the dumbfounded Prince tracing the shape of your lips with his eyes and wonders, what would his name sound like if you whispered it to his ears? Would it feel biblical if Tooru could also share a secret language with you and murmur it into the crevices of your palm in a promising kiss, or would your words curse him into a thoughtless follower who walked into his own demise? You would be his Queen, after all. You would be the one he would fight for his life with, and whose wishes would become his command—his only good reason for living.
“Fuck,” Tooru muttered under his breath as he leant against his car. He could already feel his heart pounding. And for what? The spine-chilling realization of—or more like could no longer deny—that he found his brother’s wife mesmerizing? “Fuck you, Rintaro. I don’t wanna be like you. I’m not stealing anybody’s wife.”
Tooru chanted those words in his head like a mantra.
He needed more than a bottle of alcohol to get him through the night without accidentally blurting anything stupid, which he was certain was the last thing you needed. Tonight, you needed a friend. You needed someone with genuine intentions after being cruelly dragged into a make believe story of Prince meets Beauty, only to wake up with an unfortunate twist of Beauty and the Beast where happy endings didn’t exist when Rintaro was the Beast through and through.
Tonight, you would not be Prince and Princess.
Tooru would come as himself, and with a clear of his throat, plastered on his infamous smirk. “The night is too good to spend alone, Your Highness. I am quite certain no lovely woman would envision their honeymoon to turn out this way.”
You halted your body from swinging up.
Eyes widening at the sight of the Fifth Prince in nothing but sleepwear and a coat, your mouth falls open. You must have remembered you were now a Princess and had to act properly in front of a royal blood that you sat up straight. The action had Tooru sucking in a sharp breath before making himself comfortable on the swing beside you, opting to stare out in the vast fields because his chest was fluttering at the look on your face. How relieved you seemed upon seeing him. Like he was your hero even if he was far from having heroic attributes, and Tooru bit the insides of his cheeks.
He loathed how that passing moment made him feel important and brought a tint to his cheeks.
“Your Highness,” you began, “Wh-What brings you here?”
“To comfort a certain lonely Princess,” he winked, and you respond with a surprised squeak. “What? Can’t believe that the most handsome Prince is now your knight in shining armour? Don’t flatter yourself, though. This will not be a daily occurrence and—”
“Thank you.” Ducking your head, you stare at your lap, and Tooru patiently waited for you to continue speaking. He could see your eyes water as you swallow audibly, “I...I did not think anyone would bother to come find me, much less you, my Prince. Out of everybody, I thought you might have cared the least, but forgive me for I was mistaken.”
“Well,” he shrugged, “Not everyone is as heartless as Rintaro. Not your fault too that you thought of me that way.”
The both of you share a knowing smile—his telling you that you would be alright, and you reciprocating a thankful one. A comfortable silence settled after that. None of you found the need to talk about anything when Tooru wasn’t the best at comforting, and you were more than satisfied for the company. It shocked him, though, how he unexpectedly ended up playing in the swings with his brother’s wife at three in the morning, surrounded by nothing but grass and the faint sounds of crickets chirping. The wind would occasionally hum, and so did you.
The intimate beginning of a core memory felt like a scene straight out of a novel, but Tooru knew better. As much as he cherished this moment of sharing a silence with somebody in a world filled with people demanding for answers and explanations, Tooru understood this moment would not last. He had to remind himself he wasn’t your Prince. You weren’t his Princess. You were both just royals stripped of their titles until they were reduced to nothing but humans at their rawest form—a Princess with a disloyal husband, a broken heart and pride, and him as a Prince who didn’t quite knew where he belonged. At least, Tooru knew his place, and maybe that was why it felt a bit wrong to be the one next to you this moment. You were newly married and should be having this emotional intimacy with your husband. Not his brother. It was a constant fight of push and pull in his brain of wanting to be greedy and have more for this, whatever the fuck this was, whatever the fuck it meant now that you were smiling to yourself without saying anything, but Tooru chose to be the bigger person and stop kicking his feet.
“Say,” he scrunched his nose, “The town is dead, and you look like you have a lot to get off your chest. What do you say about a drive up the hill? You can scream as much as you want there.”
“Scream? Why would I scream?”
“Curse out Rintaro. I do that a lot when he gets on my nerves.”
When you laughed at his words, Tooru had to stop himself from getting too ahead of himself. Surely, it didn’t mean anything at all that he just made a pretty Princess laugh, even if your laugh was so airy and sounded so nice he would have taken full credit of doing a job well done for being a temporary friend.
“That does not sound too bad. In fact, I know a spot.”
The spot being a ten minute walk up the hill, far enough to be hidden from the prying gaze despite everybody being asleep but close enough that Tooru could retrace the steps back to the town in fear you would get lost again. Not that he had to worry. You were already steps ahead of him, shoes looped into your fingers as your toes dug into the bare earth—the very spitting image of a woman he couldn’t have most with sparkling hair pins keeping the strands kissed by the wind at bay.
Right. He needed to look away.
You were not his to appreciate.
“How did you find me, Prince Tooru?” you asked when you’d both settled next to each other, knees slightly brushing with every relaxed move.
Prying his eyes away from your fingers spreading to let the blades of grass peek through the spaces, Tooru raised a shoulder. Stop, he chastised himself. Do not muse about how strong the soil must be that night to carry the unspoken sorrows that weighed heavier than earth itself. Do not put yourself into the shoes birthed with a responsibility you were not man enough to step in on.
“Let’s just say that my wife and I never really went to the shop centres. That was nothing but a lame excuse we had to tell her parents. Instead, I roamed around this lovely town of yours and wished earlier that this might as well be my spot—but of course, this has always been yours, isn’t it?” he attempted to lighten the mood, “You have a lovely view from here.”
While his view from his bedroom, up north in the Inarizaki Tower, granted him the vision of a god who saw all from the citizens rising early in the morning to mill about for work to children laughing as they chased each other outside their parents’ humble, little shops, nothing could have compared to the serenity of Greenville. Miles and miles of land rich with flowers and fruitful trees laid home to rows of grapevines; its scent so addicting the Prince might as well have gotten drunk from a single whiff. The land stretched overhead until the peak of the mountains along the edge allowed room for the sun to stretch its arms out in a few hours’ time. Crickets chirped. The wind sang a lullaby that put the people to sleep, and he had you next to him. Close enough he might have plucked out the flower tempting him nearby with its dulcet beauty and humorously recite you poetry like he was your lover if that would make you smile.
Unfortunately, you didn’t share the same sentiments as him. “I doubt anything could be lovely from now on.”
“Don’t let my brother get to you.”
“That is easy for you to say,” you exhaled, “You and your brothers all the same. We, as wives, never meant anything significant to your hearts. You throw us to the side away like we are lesser than dust. I doubt you could even understand my pain when you are clearly incapable of being a good husband with the inability to feel love.”
Biting back his tongue to ask “don’t you want to prove me wrong about that?”, Tooru blew a low whistle. “You don’t pull your punches, do you? That is harsh.”
“Well, I see no need to coddle you, my Prince. You are a grown man who needs to realize his own disgusting flaws.”
At any other day, Tooru would’ve taken the unnecessary projection of your own heartbreak out to him with disdain, but today was different. For his own entertainment, he would be a little kinder. A little more patient. So he let it slide, and masked his confused heart with the one thing he had perfected—the all-too-confident smile that made men and women weak in the knees. The smile that brought him to where he is now, married and unhappy.
“Oh, there is no need, Princess. I am more than well aware of what makes me terrible,” he admitted, “What my brother did was wrong. There is no excuse for his behaviour, but you must understand—this is all very common to us now. Rintaro was able to deceive you like that because he had seen it with his own eyes; how marriages needed to be successful politically but never romantically, and once he has a goal in mind, nothing is stopping him from achieving that,” it was more of a warning than a reminder, and Tooru snuck a glance to confirm if you understood where he was going. “Do not take it personally, Princess. Rintaro would have been a liar either way whether it was you or not that he first laid his eyes on.”
“Is that supposed to comfort me?”
“I am shit at comforting others—” a laugh was pulled from him before the Prince steals the bottle from your hands and takes a swig. “—but I do sincerely hope you stop crying now.”
His words had the opposite effect. Not even past the neck of the bottle, you choked before him in a fit of sniffles and sobs. Eyes puffy and red, lips wobbly and fingers angrily wiping away at the tears you desperately tried to conceal from his stupefied gaze. “What do you care whether I cry or not?”
Out of instinct, Tooru’s arm reached out to stop you from pinching your cheeks.
Slapped by logic, on the other hand, his arm retreated by itself because he was only here to comfort, not to reassure. And bound by the foolishness that was called the never-learning vulnerable heart, Tooru found himself in the middle of heaven and hell as he sighs. “Believe it or not, Princess, but I do care,” was his confession, though before you could ponder too much about it, the Prince was already hogging the scotch. “Implausible, is it not? But I do not blame you for it. I know I seem unable to care about others when I hate my own wife, even if she has been nothing but an angel to me.”
“So you know Princess Maiko adores you. Why do you not treat her with the same kindness, then?”
Princess Maiko again. It always had to circle back to her.
“She annoys me. She clings to me like an obsessed leech and demands affection when she knows I have no interest in reciprocating it,” he scoffed, “It is for her own good, though. There is no point to fool herself we can be happy together when I never wanted to be married. It is better to break her heart from the beginning than be sweet to her and get her hopes up.” The Prince held no room for argument. Palms leaning back on the grass, he extends his leg and crosses them as he glares at the sky like the darkness caused all this trouble. “No idea what anybody told you, but Princess Maiko and I were not married under the Queen’s choice. It was Maiko’s.”
“Princess Maiko...proposed to you?”
“Something like that. Maiko is a year younger than me, and naturally, since our families had close connections to each other, I grew up treating her like my little sister. She was always clumsy and stupid that I feared she’d get into trouble if not properly watched over. Little did I know that my concern for her would grow into being lovesick, and next thing I know, she is begging with the Queen to marry me. One thing led to another, the Queen saw potential in our union, and now here we are.”
“You make it sound like you had no choice in this, yet you still let her walk down that aisle. Are you sure you are not just using the Queen as an excuse?”
“If I did not marry Maiko, the Queen would have kicked me out the palace.”
“That is legal?”
Tooru wore a face that said beats me. “When there are too many Princes in a patriarchal monarchy, there will be hierarchy among our worth. The First Prince is already worthy to remain in the family as the eldest heir, and then Rintaro is the only child of the King and Queen. Prince Shinsuke will never have to worry about not being Prince when his mother plays a large role in the Kingdom as one of their best lawyers. The twins, too, come from a wealthy mother whose chain of businesses greatly benefits the palace. The youngest, Prince Tobio, is naturally adored by everybody else. He is given everything without having to ask for it. But the rest of us? We have to fight for our place in the dinner table. My clan is not exactly on good terms with the royal family, either.”
“But did you not say you did not care about being Prince?”
“I don’t. The duties of a Prince wears me out and I hate having to put on a facade all the time, but I have no place where I belong in,” his voice grew somber, the tips of his ears tinting red at the realization he was actually being vulnerable to someone who wasn’t his brother. Hell, he didn’t even trust his brothers anymore the night titles mattered more than familial bond, yet here he was. “My mother... her family does not accept me because she was a married woman who had me after having an affair with the King, and the King never looked at me once when I was born. He merely had me to establish ties with the Oikawa Clan, but when he realized my maternal grandparents barely recognized me as their own, I was useless to him. So as much as I despise being a Prince, it is the only way I can actually live. If not for my title, I would have already been sent to the streets.”
Tooru was quietly begging whatever gods looked down on him that you wouldn’t look at him with pity. The last thing he wanted was to be pitiful.
Sneaking a glance after a split second decision dissolved his worries, because you were far from seeing him as less. No, you glanced at him more out of curiosity. Like if he allowed you to give it more thought, you could magically have a solution. “Then...if you are not that important to them despite being an heir to one of three founding clans, why could Prince Kiyoomi not be important, as well? He is the Second Prince. Is that why he married Princess Iris—to ensure his title of a Prince?”
“Nobody knows why Iris and Kiyoomi got married, and neither will anyone of them talk about it. None of us were even invited to their wedding. We just woke up the next day and found out our brother had gotten married with minimal preparations, but it was all over the news. The Kingdom ate their marriage and claimed it to be a firmer peace treaty over Inarizaki and Itachiyama.”
You hid a sniffle.
“...How long has Prince Suna and Princess Iris been together?”
Tooru believed it was best you knew less. But the look on your face begged, pleaded to have that certain itch scratched that Tooru had to give in. “They met when they were in high school,” he supplied, albeit hesitantly, “Iris was a scholar of the royal family as her mother was a loyal follower of the Queen despite being born in Itachiyama, and Iris was an intelligent girl. They hit it off ever since, but drifted apart due to obvious reasons. Then they met again right after the wedding, and have been inseparable ever since.”
God. He really shouldn’t have said it. He had barely finished speaking before you pulled your knees up to your chest, head buried between your legs and sobs stifled in the eerie silence. “Oh my god. I look like a fool, don’t I? They’ve known each other forever.”
“None of this was your fault, Princess. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“It was my fault, though. I-I knew all this time,” you were full on sobbing by now. “I found out the night we announced our engagement. Ever since that day, I knew whatever we had was never real, but I proceeded with the wedding anyway because I hoped he would still look at me the same way. D-Do you have any idea how much it hurts to learn that you were never loved in the first place?”
Your voice cracked with every sharp breath. Fingers lifting to dig into your scalp deep enough the skin turned raw, and Tooru was immediately peeling your hands away from yourself. “Princess, breathe. Do not hurt yourself—”
“It kills me, Your Highness. I have never felt this pathetic before.”
“Princess...”
“I can’t stop looking in the mirror and find a warped reflection of myself staring back,” you wail and flick his arm away, like the thought of being touched by someone else repulsive. “Every day, I see nothing but my flaws and insecurities and think, is this why he doesn’t love me? Am I not pretty enough? Am I not good enough? Will I never compare to Iris? I feel so horribly ugly and disgusted of my own skin.”
“Don’t think that. You’re beautiful.”
“His Highness said otherwise—”
“My brother is fucking stupid for taking you for granted. If you were mine, I would have never made you feel like you were not good enough.”
Your head slowly turns to face him, the previous sobs now dwindling into little sniffles, but Tooru was already looking away. Downing his wine before you could say anything else. Drinking fast enough his brain felt muddled and there was an ache forming at the back of his head, but anything. Anything to escape the prying eyes wet with tears as the confession settled into the air.
He either fucked it up, or started a new chapter along the way.
The sound of you crying harder again brought him no answer.
“I w-wish...he thought the same way.”
What did it all mean? This moment... when you looked at him now, clinging to whatever hope was left in your love struck heart. When you looked at him now, smile flattened upon the mutual understanding that maybe this was what it meant. Not quite friendship, not quite partnership, not quite acquaintances—but the gentle promise that when the castle and its burdens grew too suffocating, you would have the Fifth Prince to run to out of the thousand others living under the grand halls of royalty. And if you had even the slightest inkling that perhaps Tooru might be growing too warm in a cold night, he was comforted enough by the fact you and him were as impossible as him and his wife.
Whatever attraction he held for you simply had to die. Whatever happened tonight stays within this spot closest to the stars in a quiet town called Greenville.
“Let him go,” was all Tooru could offer before his hand covered yours—that silly smile returning on his face again as if to say the pain would pass. “He’s stupid, anyway.”
“Right.” Finally, fucking finally, you smile brighter than he ever could. “He is stupid.”
“What the fuck were you doing with my wife?”
No good thing ever lasted. It was a fact Tooru learned the hard way, and had to relearn once more when he brought you back ‘home.’ After an hour and a half more of sharing jokes that slowly, the both of you were forming your own secret language Rintaro would not be a part of, you decided to loosen up a bit and steal the rest of his drink. Well, he brought it for you, but he didn’t quite expect you to rummage around his own hidden stash in the car of flasks, only to be giggling and practically dead weight in his arms later on.
It was good until it lasted.
It was good until he showed up. Tooru hadn’t stopped scowling since your husband bundled you in his jacket and held you like you were a fragile woman in need of care. Sure, you could be, but if Rintaro knew it all along, why hadn’t he been more careful since the beginning? Tooru hated inconsistency. Hated lying out of everything—all of the traits his younger brother was an expert of.
It was absolutely revolting how he immediately took on the role of a concerned husband and carried you to bed when you passed out in his arms—like he hadn’t been the reason you felt the need to drink yourself to such a state.
“Only what you should have done.”
Rintaro grabbed him by the collar, their eyes levelled but neither giving in. “Don’t mess with me, Tooru. You think I don’t know what you’re doing, huh? Making my wife warm up to you so you can mess up everything I worked hard for?”
“I didn’t do shit. You ruined everything by yourself and you know it.”
“You still had no business going after her like that.”
“Are you fuckin’ serious?” gritting his teeth, Tooru shoved Rin back hard enough his back hit the doorframe. Although the impact didn’t cause too much of a sound, he still glanced your way to see if you had awoken before lowering his voice. “Your wife cried for hours. She could barely breathe well from how overwhelmed she is, and what were you doing? Oh, that’s right. Fucking your mistress while your wife wondered over and over again just what made her so unworthy of love in your eyes. It’s actually pathetic that such an amazing woman would shed these much tears over a man who can’t even tell her the truth about his malicious nature!”
Rintaro snickered, and it took all of Tooru’s patience to not punch his brother.
“Since when have you cared about the Princess?”
“Maybe we all do, Rintaro! Maybe every single one of us is tired that you and your mother are the exact same—you do nothing but manipulate people for your own gain and then wonder why your lives are so miserable! Your wife loves you, Rin. She would forgive you at the blink of an eye but it does not give you the right to abuse her kindness.”
“That is hypocritical coming from you. You talk as if you do not neglect your wife and leave her crying, too.”
“Maiko, Maiko, it’s always about stupid, fucking Maiko!” he fumed, “Don’t fucking pit me with you, asshole. You courted Princess Y/N for two years and had no intention of coming clean about your sins. Everybody knows I never wanted this marriage. It was Maiko who bound me with these shackles because she was obsessed with me!”
Rintaro was at a loss of words.
He, too, knew that in some way, Tooru had been better. Tooru had always been consistent over his disapproval of the marriage, and had no choice but to accept it in order to survive the harsh environment of the palace. But did Rintaro care?
Obviously not.
“Go back home. I don’t need you here.”
Tooru scoffed. “If it brings you any comfort—” with his back turned to his brother, he glared at him one last time on the way out. “I didn’t come here of my own volition. It was Maiko who requested me to go. Nobody’s out here stealing who isn’t theirs.” An excuse, a valid reason, a half truth—call it what you wanted. Tooru wasn’t sure himself either which one of it he truly meant when he could still smell your perfume all over him on the drive back to the manor.
At one point in your life, you became a Princess before you married a Prince.
It happened that one fateful night. Where elites, nobles, royals, and all the important figures in the world gathered in a grandiose castle in celebration of a Prince’s eighteenth birthday. Naturally, as the daughter of two of the trusted followers of the throne, you had been invited. You could still picture it all clearly—the weeks ahead of preparation despite being a guest who would most likely befriend the shadows and be accompanied by the walls until the party ended. Still, your mother insisted you be dressed to the nines. Calling out for the best dressmakers to travel to Inarizaki with the sole purpose of transforming you into—as what your mother called —“a butterfly who attracted attention, but would be out of reach.”
You were close to telling your mother she would return home from the party disappointed. Unless she could accept you were more of a moth who clung to the unknown corners.
Not that you thought lowly of yourself, but you preferred the term... realistic. Yes, realistic was what you were. You simply accepted the fact you weren’t the prettiest, the most sociable, nor the most interesting woman to ever be attending these balls. Perhaps only slightly above average all thanks to the respectable status and money you were born with, but otherwise not as dreamy as your mother painted you out to be.
See, you weren’t the best dancer. Your mother had given up halfway into dancing classes once she realized you were a lost cause. Little did the both of you know, that from that night onwards, the young woman who had two left feet would someday master the art of dancing all to impress a certain Prince who wouldn’t stop looking at her that night.
His name was Suna Rintaro—the Crown Prince by birth.
And you had caught his eye.
In fact, you must have captured his entire attention and bewitched his whole being that he was unable to take his eyes off of you and pushed through the crowd, all to ask for a dance.
You said yes. He said you made him the happiest man that night.
“Truly?” he echoed, as if a gorgeous Prince like him ever experienced his dance invitations rejected before. “You would dance with me?”
“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness. I...I am not great at dancing though,” you began to stutter, palms growing damp behind the lace gloves. “Perhaps you ought to find somebody better? I am uncertain I am the best choice to dance with tonight—”
“You are the best choice,” the Prince grinned, and your heart skipped a beat in awe at how someone could be effortlessly charming. You barely even noticed he was already leading you to the dance floor until you felt a hundred pair of eyes on you. All these people who bore more importance and held heavier money in their pockets witnessed how the Prince slid his warm hand above your waist then, his smile just as soothing as the little finger rubs to ease your nerves. “You are—” he leant closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “The only one who I want to share this dance with.”
You awoke with a jolt, heart pounding a mile a minute as the memory replayed in your head. Like a film caught on tape, you could still hear the violins singing at the top of their lungs, the cello hitting deep notes that vibrated within your bones. You could still feel the warmth of the Prince’s touch as he danced the night away with you. How gentle he had been to walk you out the gardens just to shyly murmur how he found you beautiful.
Beautiful.
Until suddenly you were not—or more like, you had never been beautiful to him.
“My love,” a voice—one that used to be comforting but now only brought pain—broke you out of your reverie. “I prepared breakfast for you. We should go downstairs and eat.”
Your husband, Rintaro, sat at the edge of your bed with a pinched frown. As if he was worried. He had no right to be, yet somehow, there was still that voice at the back of your head rejoicing in delight. Because he came. He came to find you. You woke up with him, and sure, it didn’t erase yesterday’s events, but could it mean something? You so badly wanted to reach out to him when his hand snaked across the mattress to find yours. Offering you a small squeeze. Looking so concerned you would have believed it all over again.
How was it possible someone could be both your happiness and torment?
No! your inner voice screamed at you. Don’t let him get close.
Blinking back the tears you hadn’t noticed arrived, you kicked the blankets off of you and trudged to the bathroom when you felt bile rise from your throat. Right. Such great timing. You were pushing the toilet lid up the next second, knees scraping against the floor as you emptied your stomach. Your head pounded as you did so, and you winced, remembering just now how Prince Tooru had visited and you drank yourself to your limit.
Which, obviously, was a decision you regretted making.
“My love!” Rintaro was behind you in an instant. He rubbed your back, held your hair up as you retched a few more times, and whispered sweet nothings that did nothing but to intensify that sick feeling in your stomach. “How much did you drink? I was so worried for you, honey—”
You slapped his hand away.
“Don’t call me that.”
If Rintaro looked defeated, he hid it extremely well. “Please. I only worry for you,” he helped you up on your feet. Fortunately for him, you were too wobbly on your own legs to complain. You quietly let him sit you on the closed toilet and sat down before you, his knees brushing against your bare feet and his handsome face deceitfully worn. “Listen...we can talk about it later, alright? You need to eat first before you get even more sick.”
“You are concerned over my well-being?”
“I am—”
“It did not feel like that yesterday.”
“Please. Let’s stop fighting.” How rare for the Crown Prince to beg, much say please more than once in a row. Wasn’t he too prideful for that?
As much as you basked in how this man was now on his knees for you, you didn’t trust yourself to not give in to whatever he asked of you. True as it was that it hurt, love didn’t disappear in a night. It wasn’t that easy to un-love someone you planned your whole life with. Of course, going back to that same hellish place he put you in would truly paint you the ignoramus, but you currently didn’t have the power to say no to him just yet. It was two years of being wired to please him at all costs. And it would take more than that to unlearn all the habits you’d formed just to align with who he wanted you to be.
But things would change now. It would no longer be the same, and you could only hope the next chapters of your life would bring about a better change.
Today marked the beginning of you detaching from your husband.
Pushing past him, you walked out with clenched fists. You would not cry in front of him now. You would not let him feel the satisfaction of how perfectly he’d executed his plan of wrapping himself around your finger until the end crashed you both. You would not let him see that you still loved him, still craved him, still fucking wished he would be genuine in comforting you and not because he had to keep you as his pliant wife.
No matter how hard it was, you needed to turn your back on him from now.
“Wait,” he grabbed you by the wrist, and you nearly collapsed on the spot from how much you yearned for his touch. “Where did you get this?”
He was pertaining to the scratches on your palm. The ones you got when he rudely pushed you off. “It’s nothing,” was all you supplied, however, because he didn’t need to know. Rintaro would feel guilty and just feed you honey-like words to thaw the ice in your heart. Soon, you would be putty in his arms again if you weren’t careful enough. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Of course I worry.” He said it like this should be obvious to you by now, and you scoffed.
“Why? Because I’m not the perfect Princess you want me to be anymore now that I have wounds?”
Rintaro’s lips puckered out. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“You hurt me yesterday. Funny how fast your feelings change in the span of a night, no?” you grabbed your wrist before crossing your arms against your chest. “Is this how you always were? Kind one moment, ruthless the next? You put on so many faces and tell too many lies that I have no idea who I am talking to right now. So tell me—are you my husband who promised to take care of me and cherish me until death do us part, or are you the greedy Prince who manipulated me into marrying him?”
Rintaro does not respond. Instead, he manoeuvred around the cramped space of your bathroom and reaches for the first-aid kit on the top shelf. Your husband slowly unrolls the bandages before he takes your hand in his, touch butterfly like that you wondered if he was the same man who had been aggressive yesterday. Still, you waited with baited breath, unable to stop yourself from staring at him. And blessed he was with those hazel eyes who’d seen every ugly part of you yet stayed with you anyway—whether it was out of need or he actually cared sometimes to not mind—and that soft tuft of hair you loved running your hands to. Those lips who recited empty vows and kissed you like he meant it. That voice that made your legs quiver countless nights and now, these hands wrapping the bandages around your blistered palm with patience and grace you knew you had fallen in love with.
Tears sprung once again. Chest squeezing uncomfortably as you realized you still were, and still would, be hopelessly in love with Suna Rintaro. Heart shattering all over again when you began to accept your heart would be a chamber that hung him like an oil painting that never aged through the years. How your love would remain frozen in time along with his smiles, and you loved him so much you sometimes forget he did not love you at all.
He had someone else in his heart when yours cried out no one else’s name but his.
“Why her?” you croak out weakly, nursing your bandaged palm to your chest as you leant against the wall. Feeling your knees weaken little by little. “What does she have that I do not? Why did you love her...but not me?”
“I do not want to talk about it.”
“Why her, Rintaro?”
It was the first time you called him by his first name. The shock is apparent on his face, but Rintaro opted to shake his head before wrapping an arm around your waist. “We should eat first. Then, I will you tell everything.”
Breakfast, while not entirely comfortable, wasn’t as terrible as you expected it to be. It was difficult to stay mad at him when you were greeted by the staff who wouldn’t stop gushing about how your husband stayed up the entire night to cook for you. The said man only blushed in response, seemingly embarrassed and continuously apologizing for the mess he made in the kitchen.
Now, if Rintaro was on a mission to mess with your heart even more, it definitely worked.
All your anger dissipated as you ate the rice soup. The breakfast wasn’t anything flashy, but it contained everything you needed after a hungover. Bananas, some sliced apples, a light soup and some ginger tea to help ease your nausea. Such simple food, yet seeing as how Rintaro grew up with a silver spoon and never had to cook anything in his life before, your husband took multiple attempts to perfect the soup into a plausible taste. Not that you would ever tell him since compliments seemed far and beyond in this already failing marriage. But... you supposed, you could give him some credit. You appreciated the effort, and thanked the staff generously before you both decided to just walk back home and talk.
Greeting people as you go, your husband kept trying to hold your hand. For appearance’s sake, or because he simply wanted to have you close, you didn’t ask anymore. You shoved your hands deep into your pockets and led him into a field of dandelions—one of your favourite places as a child. The bright yellows mixing in with the lush green, along with the fresh breeze, and it would have been picture perfect.
You always wanted to visit here with Rintaro. Tell him some childhood stories. It was something you had been dreaming of around the third month of your relationship, but now that you were here standing next to your husband, you didn’t quite feel the same elation.
“This place is beautiful,” he cut the silence and faces you with a soft smile. “Imagine one day, our kids would run here with us—”
“Why are you doing this to me, Your Highness? Do you take pleasure in my suffering?”
“Princess, I—” he sighed, “Let me explain.”
“Go ahead. Tell me everything from the start and I might be kind enough to understand where you come from.”
And tell you, he did. He told you everything. From how they met, to how he had always felt this ‘pull’ with her and smiled to himself dreamily because gravity pulled him to her; they had this magnetic force that they couldn’t stay away from each other. He told you about the dreams he shared with her. The plans they made. He listed down every little thing he loved about her and remained unaware that you stood there furiously blinking back tears, because you were the wife, and you had never felt so unloved at the face of someone who proclaimed his undying affection for a woman who was not his. He reminisced about how it all went downhill when Iris married Kiyoomi, how they were so lonely that they just found home in each other. He couldn’t help it, he said, I just knew I needed to do everything to make her mine.
We were meant for each other.
And you? Who were you meant for? Perhaps, you were destined for this sick, twisted fate where you felt like the outsider, the third party, the side character, in a story that was supposed to be yours? He looked so in love. And you knew, because you mirrored everything he felt about her. You knew because you looked the same way as he does now when you were in love, and it’s not you—it’s never going to be you. It was never supposed to be you. All you could do was smile bitterly when your husband uttered her name like she had cast a spell on him. Pretending with whatever strength you had left in you to be fine.
“You love her that much you were willing to sacrifice me for it?”
“...I—”
“Did you ever think about how this would make me feel? How-How I welcomed you into my home and told you about my deepest fears and-and none of that had been real? Was there a single moment where you stopped to think maybe you were hurting someone else all because you wanted to be with the woman you want?”
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“But that is the thing, Your Highness, you already did. You cannot undo what has been done.”
“I know that,” Rintaro stepped forward, only to be greeted by you keeping the distance bigger. The crestfallen look on his face nearly made you feel bad. “I do not expect forgiveness from you, Your Highness. Absolutely not. But if we could compromise on something—”
“What would we compromise on?” you laughed without a trace of humour, “I love you. I married you because I love you, I care about you, and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You married me out of greed. You still wish to proceed with your plans which shows you truly do not care about me, so tell me, what is there to compromise about? I want my husband more than anything else, but that is the one thing you cannot give me.”
Rintaro shook his head. “No, no. I am still yours, Princess. Iris is not my wife, you are. You are the one who I will wake up to every morning, the one I will spend the rest of my life with. We can still do the things you wish for. Iris, she... she is not a selfish woman. She has always been kind enough to let me be with you for the greater good—”
You raised a palm in front of his face.
“Please stop talking.”
Was he defeated? No. Rintaro needed more than this blatant rejection of yours. If he had been that weak or gave up any easily, then he wouldn’t get where he was right now. But at this moment, you could have sworn he meant it when his shoulders fell and called out your name.
“Had we met earlier, I would have loved you first.”
“That just hurts me more.”
“I was, and am genuinely happy with you, my wife,” he reassured, but it didn’t stop making you cry. It didn’t ease the pain as Rintaro slowly encaged you in his embrace. Your tears staining his shirt and fists crumpling the material as you felt yourself die little by little. “Shh, Princess. Not a part of me regrets reciting my vows to you on that day in front of the entire kingdom. Believe it or not, but I adore you. I love listening to your stories and hearing you laugh, and-and you are kind. You are strong. You are an extremely beautiful and loving woman that I am the luckiest man in the world to have been your husband.”
“But you do not love me,” you cried harder, “You will never look at me the way you look at her.” When the Prince remained silent, so did you. He didn’t deny it this time—how you would never receive the same treatment as Iris. That fact alone had you pulling back to stare at your husband’s eyes.
“Does she make you happier than I do, Your Highness?”
Ignorance was bliss, indeed. If only you could turn back time and undo this moment where you stopped curiosity from getting the best of you, perhaps you would not be twice as heartbroken when Rintaro nodded. No hesitation in his features. Just pure love, and an ounce of regret and guilt from the way you slowly crumbled before him.
“Yes, she does. The Princess is my entire universe. I would be utterly devastated and lost without her.”
It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of your body. It became a challenge to speak, to feel the tips of your fingers as you stepped back one time, two time, three times until the distance was just as big as the hole he punctured through your heart. Now, you had enough. You had reached your limit, learned your lesson, been humbled to your place—and Rintaro had no intention of taking his words back.
He meant it.
He would lose himself if Iris disappeared from his life.
With that, you had no choice but to force a smile. “I understand,” you declared, wiping your pathetic tears because it hadn’t been an hour since you promised you would be stronger now. But luck was never on your side, and you still kept tripping and wounding yourself. “I...I would like to return to the castle, Your Highness. There is no need to extend this trip any longer than it should be.”
“We don’t need to return right away, Princess. There are still plenty of things we can do—”
“Please refrain from sharing any activities with me from now on unless it is bound by duty. No eyes are looking, so you have no responsibilities with me right now,” you sent him a pointed gaze. “I wish to return to the city, and that is final. Do not question my decisions as I will not interfere with yours.”
Rintaro’s lips flattened into a thin line. You couldn’t bear yourself to look at him anymore, so you walked away from him, salty tears cascading down your cheeks, and the wedding ring heavier than the weight in your heart.
From today onwards, you might not recognize yourself anymore.
None of the Princes and their wives questioned the sudden return to Inarizaki Palace.
When they saw you and Rintaro walk in with gloom faces, everyone shuffled to their feet and quickly packed their things. No words or explanations needed. This honeymoon had already ended on a sour note, and now it was time to return to the reality of royal obligations and duties. Duties such as keeping a fake smile plastered at all times when the supportive citizens of Inarizaki waved and cheered at the couples’ arrival. Atrocious obligations such as letting your husband place a possessive hand at the small of your back when the rest of his brothers welcomed you into the lobby, the youngest Prince bouncing at his feet at the sight of you.
“Back so soon, sister? Did you guys enjoy?”
You shared a quick, affectionate glance with Rintaro. “We did. I had the time of my life, but I thought it unnecessary to dilly-dally around in my hometown when royal duties await us all.”
“As expected of my sister. You are always so adept,” praised the marvelled Prince Tobio who had taken himself to looping himself to your arm. It left Rintaro awkwardly following behind as you were guided to your shared chambers, but you weren’t complaining. The youngest Prince was lively and brightened up your bitter days. “Say, would you mind taking me to Greenville someday when we are both free? I heard you had the loveliest manor there.”
“It would be my honour, Your Highness.”
“Please,” he beamed, and instantly, you were given a reason to endure this hell even longer. “Call me brother, we are family now. But ah, it is night time! I should let the both of you rest. Take good care of her, brother!”
Rintaro offered a nod. The both of you waited as Prince Tobio left the room in high spirits when the uncomfortable silence stretched, leaving you to scurry changing into your sleepwear in opt of avoiding your husband’s gaze. Once done, you let your hands roam over the cream pillars surrounding the edges of your king sized bed with a robin egg blue and gold palette. A golden chandelier with diamonds hung from the ceiling above the bed, the bed post textured with coral shaped indents. The same shade of blue hung from the windows. A large television right across the bed with a cream coloured cabinet lined with gold outlines—a perfect room for a man who would be sleeping by himself. Who, by the way, was already comfortably settled into the left side of the bed with his arm propped behind his head.
“Where are you headed?”
“Outside?”
“In your nightgown? Absolutely not.”
“In the drawing room, my Prince. I am not stepping out of our quarters dressed like this.”
“But it is time for bed.”
“Indeed, and I do not wish to share one with you when you and your mistress must have rolled around in it already. Good night, Your Highness,” you sent him a preppy smile, bowing deep before shutting the doors shut. A baffled Rintaro about to leave his bed the last thing you saw.
Hearing the doors close behind you, you practically crashed into the couch. You were beyond exhausted and your head still pounded from your endless crying—it was now time for a good night’s sleep. Not that it would be good, no matter how soft the cushion may be, because the palatial room did nothing but echo the loneliness residing in your heart.
Unbeknownst to you, Rintaro wouldn’t stop tossing and turning in his bed. The clock ticking got to his nerves until he was cracking open every book, tossing the television to random channels, and even swiping his fingers across the countertops to check for dust. He couldn’t sleep—not when his wife wasn’t beside him. This wasn’t how he pictured his marriage out to be; sleeping alone, with his wife intent on keeping her distance. Still, Rintaro thought, shouldn’t he be happy? You were not getting in his way. You were not particularly malicious to Iris on the way back home, or anytime after that, despite his confession that he knew wounded you. You simply ignored her existence, and now it was his turn.
Did you intend on pretending he wasn’t there too? Because Rintaro wasn’t having any of it. He would rather you hit him, scream at him, even call him a monster if it meant you looked at his way.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rintaro walked to the doors and prepared himself to carry you back to bed when he heard it—the sounds of muffled cries and nearly inaudible whimpers.
He didn’t know why his mouth tasted sour and bitter at the same time.
Rintaro had no idea why he stepped away from the doors like what stood behind it scared him, and slowly returned to the bed. The door acted as a barrier between the two hearts who unknowingly kept themselves up and awake until the sun rose the next morning—Rintaro with a heavy chest of guilt, and your heart gradually losing the spark it once held for him.
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#suna rintaro x reader#suna x reader#suna rintaro x reader angst#suna x reader romance#suna x you#suna rintarō x reader#rintarō x reader#oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#tooru oikawa x reader#oikawa x you#oikawa x reader fluff#rintaro x reader#rintaro x reader angst#rintaro suna x reader#tooru oikawa x you#oikawa tooru x reader angst#series: dusk till dawn#suna rintarō x reader angst#suna rintarō x reader series
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cw: ghosts, themes of death, melancholy.
You see him in flashes.
An ear, nestled in brown curls, any other features passing by too fast to catch mote details. Behind you, in the bathroom mirror, walking down the hall, mouth twisted into a grimace as he looks down at his hands. A loud cackle as you talk to an empty house—first only to yourself, then, cautiously, indirectly to him.
Finally, when the moon is full and even your curtains don’t shut off the stream of light into your bedroom entirely, you get tired of it. You get tired of staring at your ceiling, on your back in the dark, until a headache throbs in your temples and the sun rises on you, a lonely insomniac in a house too big for one.
There’s the sound of a light footstep outside your door, and it creaks barely open. No one’s outside.
“Hi,” you say, a half-question, feeling silly talking to the air. “Can you stop with the sneaking around? I don’t have the patience, right now.”
A brown eye, under that same swooping hair. A hand, pushing the door open.
A full picture. Your ghost is a young man, in the full glow of health, skin pale and lips curved into a perpetual smile that makes him look very smug indeed. He’s dressed in modern clothing, if a little out of date, and you can see the outline of what could be a phone but is probably a ZEN (complete with earbuds!) in his pocket.
“I didn’t know you could see me,” he says, cautiously. You throw a hand up in the air, it’s whatever, and enjoy the way it bounces limply upon returning to the surface of your bed. He perches next to your bedside, a grey-and-blue inverted image. The ghost keeping vigil over the living.
“Just a little bit, before. I wasn’t sure talking to you would work.”
“You can see ghosts?”
“No,” you shrug, turning on your side to look at him. “Not usually. Just you.”
He looks pleased by this, and you have to stifle a laugh. You have a vain spirit, then, wandering the halls of your parents’ home.
Your grandmother always told you you had a strong intuition, a sensitivity to the world that would set you apart. This isn’t your first encounter with spirits (how could it be, growing up with her), and you can feel that this one is not malicious, not hungry. He’s simply... here, for no discernible purpose other than to coexist with you for now. Separate stories living together.
“I’m—” you give him a nickname, an old one that makes nostalgia flow through you so strongly you stop breathing for a moment. It’s true, he feels safe, but you can never know. “Who are you?”
“Tooru,” he says, and the corners of his pretty mouth turn down. “It’s always a little hard for me to remember the rest of it. Oikawa, I think.”
“That suits you,” you nod. Your eyelids feel heavy, closing until the boy in front of you is a smear of colors, a stained-glass picture. “Sorry, I—” you yawn, and force your vision to focus on him. It’s not just you, though; he seems blurrier at the edges now. You can see your night table through him. You wonder how much energy he has to expend to be corporeal. How much sleep do the dead get? “I didn’t really sleep.”
“I know,” he says, and his voice is like rain falling on the windowpane, steady and soothing. “I’ll be here. Okay?”
“Okay,” you close your eyes, and you know that behind them, Tooru with swooping brown hair and a family name a few steps ahead of him is fading back into invisibility. You reach a hand out, blindly, palm up.
He takes it; you draw it towards you and kiss the cold fingers. Then you sleep, deeper and sweeter then you have since you came home.
This haunting is a love story.
#what if u were dead and i was alive and we were in different genres of story but we fell in love anyway#um. i woke up at 4 am and felt possessed (haha) to write this not sure whate up with that#may write a few more bits and bobs bc there is more to this story i just cant do it all in one go rn and idk if anyone would read that anywa#y so it all works out. ok bye love u all see u later#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq!! x reader#shorts!#oikawa x reader angst#oikawa tōru x reader#oikawa x reader fluff#oikawa tooru x reader angst#oikawa angst#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa x reader#oikawa toru x reader#death tw#ghost tw#?? idk but just in case
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Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)
*GIFs not mine*
A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!
Word count: 1968
Tooru Oikawa:
“I’m totally and completely over you.”
That’s how the message starts.
Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance.
And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes.
All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet.
You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting.
But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle.
“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.”
You suck in a breath.
“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”
His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.
“I want you back.”
He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead.
“I need you back.”
More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing.
You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek.
Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was.
“I didn’t know…”
A shaky breath. You hold yours in return.
“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”
He swallows thickly.
“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.
“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”
He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache.
Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time.
“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”
“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow.
Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.
He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?
“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull.
Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears.
But it’s him and he was yours and you were his.
Were.
You were his.
You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb.
Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it.
“I need to see you.”
He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face.
“I need to go see you, I—I have to.”
He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.
You should probably think he’s wrong.
You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do.
Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.
“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”
Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys.
Then the sound of a door slamming.
His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.
A car engine revving.
“I need to see you.”
And the voicemail ends.
_________________________
Satori Tendou:
The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief.
“Is that what we’re doing now?”
He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond.
“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”
A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it.
“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”
He sighs.
“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker.
“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”
Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg.
And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something.
When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months.
You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day.
Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went.
He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done.
“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke.
You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon.
No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking.
“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”
He breathes a ghost of a laugh.
“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”
You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time.
“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue.
“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”
You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself.
“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled.
“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”
Tendou soughs.
“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”
#haikyuu x reader#oikawa x reader#tendou x reader#tendou satori x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyu x reader#satori x reader#oikawa tooru#tendou satori#satori tendou#tooru oikawa#haikyuu x reader angst#haikyuu headcanons
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haikyuu boys when protective of you
most likely gets into a fight, does throw the first punch, and dramatically whines afterwards, forcing you to be his personal nurse ATSUMU, TANAKA, nishinoya, terushima, IWAIZUMI, hoshiumi
so insulting and almost degrading to whoever is threatening you that the offender ends up leaving out of embarrassment TSUKISHIMA, shirabu, KUROO, kenma, sugawara, daishou, akira, SUNA, kageyama, ushijima, futakuchi, hanamaki
YOU'RE the one who is protecting them SAKUSA, hachi, bokuto, YAMAGUCHI, GOSHIKI, asahi, tendo, AONE, oikawa (somehow), koganegawa, LEV
does his best to diffuse the situation, but ultimately leaves angry and mentally hexes them KIYOKO, akaashi, KITA, DAICHI, hinata, yaku, hirugami
spends the night in jail KENTARO, semi, yamamoto, mattsun, OSAMU
#haikyuu angst#haikyuu breeding#haikyuu smut#haikyuu texts#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu yandere#haikyuu pregnant#haikyuu headcanons#haikyu x reader#haikyū!!#haikyuu fluff#oikawa tooru#iwaizumi hajime#kageyama tobio#hinata shouyou#tsukishima kei#daichi sawamura#sugawara koushi#asahi azumane#yamaguchi tadashi#bokuto kōtarō#akaashi keiji#tanaka ryuunosuke#nishinoya yuu#kiyoko shimizu#kyoutani kentarou#kuroo tetsurō#kenma kuzome#sakusa kiyoomi
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Oikawa SMAU Rec
nonsense by @idlerin
synopsis: university student, chaotic friend group, and up and coming actor/model oikawa tooru as your secret ex, what could go wrong?
the perfect combination of angst, cuteness, and humor that left me a puddle for oikawa tooru (i highly recommend the playlist too, pls pls).
syrup by @eggyrocks
synopsis: oikawa, to put it bluntly, is love sick. unfortunately, there is a bit of an obstacle in the way of his happy ever after with you...
lots of crack and chaos. humor that has me going. [ongoing...]
pose for me by @authentictiramis
synopsis: vlogging au where two groups decide to collab, simping ensues.
short and sweet, full of fluff and some humor. cute!
#smaus that have a hold on me#haikyuu smau#haikyuu#hq#haikyuu x reader#hp x reader#hq smau#haikyuu oikawa tooru#oikawa tooru#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa tooru smau#smau#oikawa tooru x you#oikawa tooru x yn#college au#exes to lovers#social media au#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu angst#haikyuu x you#haikyuu texts#haikyu x reader#oikawa x reader#fic rec#recommendations#ghost rec#oikawa toru x reader#chefs kiss
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𖦹°｡⋆ haikyuu boys as my breakup playlist
⟡ featuring: suna, oikawa, tsukishima, atsumu
⟡ cw: angst, idk still bad at these
⟡ an: i found my old breakup playlist from three years ago and took inspiration from that so these songs are old lol. writing this was silly because im in a loving relationship but it was like i felt all the pain of a breakup again </3
⟡ part two, part three
⟡ suna rintarou: you broke me first - tate mcrae
suna would be the one to break things off with you. when you first started dating he genuinely thought he loved you but as time went on and he became more distant, you started to feel like he was losing feelings for you so you asked him about it. in his words, "i think you were just the first girl to give me attention after my last relationship" and "im not ready for a relationship". a week later, he starts talking about all the girls that have come to him after the breakup and started talking about his hookups to you. this bothered you and hurt you deeply so you decided to cut things off with him completely and he was not a fan of this. so he tried everything to try to get you to talk to him again saying that he misses you and that he wants to get back together. you couldn't care less though, he's already broken your heart too many times for you not to notice his pattern of wanting your attention just to make you jealous or upset. in the end, it actually did end up hurting him and made him realize what he lost. he knew he fucked up but there's no going back anymore.
⟡ oikawa tooru: over breakfast - ellise
it's been a few months since oikawa left for argentina. it's been hard for the both of to be apart for so long and in completely different timezones. you could feel the connection fading but neither of you wanted to admit it because you both loved each other so much. but the longer you guys try to keep the relationship afloat, the more frequent you end up arguing over text or facetime. but you both decided that it could be something to figure out when oikawa visits for the holidays. well, the holidays come around and you finally have time to see each other and talk in person. from the moment oikawa entered your apartment, you both knew it was over. you could tell so many things have changed over the course of the last few months but instead of facing it, you just decide to spend one more night together just to have one final time to say that you tried. it was bittersweet and it hurt a lot but you didn't want the night to end. maybe you could fix this over night? in the morning everything will be better and you can set aside your differences! unfortunately, that morning, nothing had changed and you and oikawa finally came to terms with the fact that maybe you two just maybe weren't meant to be.
⟡ tsukishima kei: high definition - waterparks
when tsukishima was still part of the sendai frogs, he traveled a lot. it's not like he was off in another country like some of his old teammates and rivals, no, you lived with him. even though you two had been dating for quite some time by this point, tsukishima still had trouble expressing his love for you. he tended to push you away whenever he was stressed even though the one thing he wanted the most was your comfort and loving. he was just worried he would end up snapping at you and making you hate him. he didn't know that you'd end up upset with him regardless. you loved him so much but you don't know how long you could going on like this. i mean come on! tsukishima was always away for volleyball matches and even when he's home...it's like he's still not even there. tsukishima knew that you were starting to slip away from him so one day he sat you down and explained how he was feeling and it was finally then that you understood why he acted the way he did. you tried protesting his decision to break up with you but he kept insisting it was for the better. by the next week tsukishima had moved out leaving you alone in the once shared apartment, wishing and hoping he'd come back one day.
⟡ miya atsumu: better off - ariana grande
everyone knew that atsumu could be hot headed most of the time when it came to volleyball but what they didn't know is that it would sometimes affect your relationship with him. much like tsukishima, he would close himself off from you whenever he was mad at the world or whatever else there is that could make him upset. it was starting to get tiring for you. you felt like you had to walk on egg shells around him just so he wouldn't snap at you (wether he meant to or not- his mind would always fog up). towards the end of your relationship, you could feel yourself start to get numb in regards to your feelings towards atsumu. atsumu couldn't really tell at this point that you were losing hope for the relationship. if anything he thought everything was normal but that was only because half of the time he was too much into his own thoughts to notice any flaws between the two of you. it wasn't until he came home one day after an away game on the other side of japan and found that all of your stuff was gone along with you, that he realized nothing is what it used to be. he found a note from you that explained that you weren't happy in the relationship anymore and that you felt trapped. you also stated that you hope he figures out his issues and that you'll always be there for him if he needs but that right now you just needed space. atsumu spent that night crying and angry at himself for letting your relationship get to this point.
#𖦹°｡⋆ 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader angst#haikyuu angst#suna rintarou x reader#suna rintarou angst#suna x reader#suna angst#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa x reader#oikawa angst#oikawa tooru angst#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima angst#tsukishima kei angst#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x reader#atsumu miya angst#atsumu angst
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kiss me maybe:
summary: finding a flier for the volleyball's kissing booth was surprising for two reasons. a) kuroo had created one of the worst fliers known to mankind and b) oikawa tooru, the school's resident pretty boy was capitalizing off the rumors surrounding him. still, you couldn't deny your attraction to the setter, and he couldn't hide that you were the only one he wanted to kiss
pairing: oikawa tooru x g!n reader
word count: 12.6k (please give this a chance)
genres + themes: college!au, sort of friends to lovers(?), fluff, angst, kuroo being an occasional menace, iwaizumi being the sexiest friend you can have, kiyoko being an icon, romanticized college experience, oikawa being an idiot but yours
warnings: cursing, a tad suggestive in some parts, absolutely not proofread
a/n: hi there i am back with a long fic. anyways this thing is my lovechild and probs the most fanfic thing ive written. its really just a fluff monster (lol) and i hope you give this a chance <3 also dedicated to @chimielie because her stuff gave me the inspo to write ily lia thank you for being so talented
It was said that Oikawa Tooru’s kisses were mythical.
Some claimed that one press of lips from the kingly setter was like a hit of a drug, sudden in a way that sent you reeling.
To some, his kisses tasted like the finest candy, hand served on an ornate dish.
Most magically, it was claimed that a kiss from Oikawa Tooru could heal even the most broken of hearts. Just one thread through sun bronzed hair could make you forget about the most painful memories.
And of course, like any celebrity would, he knew about each and every rumor.
Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room.
It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography.
Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!)
“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression.
Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury.
“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”
“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.”
You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment.
Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction.
For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works.
“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place.
“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”
“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.”
“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”
“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision.
There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer.
“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.”
“Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you.
“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?”
“No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle.
He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm.
“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.”
Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”
“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke.
“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.”
You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.”
The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze.
However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.
Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be.
Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down.
Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat.
The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place.
“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.”
“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.”
“Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?”
“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door.
The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?”
“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.”
The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation.
“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?”
“A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually.
“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!”
With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name.
Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing.
A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.
Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice.
“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.”
“I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits.
Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door.
“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.
“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you.
The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills.
For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big.
“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.”
You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere.
“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”
As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad.
“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.”
“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed.
“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.”
“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.”
“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”
“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”
You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you.
You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in.
“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!”
You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too.
The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks.
When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime.
“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?”
“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?”
“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.”
For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake.
Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash.
In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on.
“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.”
“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.”
Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable.
A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside.
Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake.
This sucked ass.
You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along.
Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering, you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when.
The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake.
You could almost call it picturesque.
You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed.
The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you.
They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk.
“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte.
“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did. “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.”
“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.”
“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.”
Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again.
His presence had a way of putting you at ease.
The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.
The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you.
High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much.
You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings.
What could be more human than that?
Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent.
“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.”
What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?
“What did they do to you?”
“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations.
Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better.
You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space.
Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness.
When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours.
Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out.
A grand gym and an even grander boy.
You just avoided him after that.
“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit.
To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.
“Yeah, water under the bridge.”
“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”
“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation.
“Well-“
“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”
“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.”
His eyes lit up. “You mean it?”
You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you.
“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards.
“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.”
You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping.
“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”
Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion.
Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?”
“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”
“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.”
“We always love the extra coverage.”
“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”
“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was.
“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.”
“Not true.” He huffed.
“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.”
People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager.
Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with.
“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.”
Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.”
He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?”
Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.”
“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”
“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.”
As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.
Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.
You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too.
As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean.
Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends.
You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky.
How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset.
“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings.
And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition.
“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it.
“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.”
“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit.
“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?”
“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.”
“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open.
You weren’t sure what to say.
A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.
“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret.
“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.
Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.
For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine.
You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.
Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity.
Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru.
Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face.
“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.”
You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression.
“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.”
Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees.
You sat down, gesturing for him to join you.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.”
“It’s been here…?”
Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.”
You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?”
“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.”
“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.”
“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.”
“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.”
“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.”
“Iwaizumi says otherwise.”
“Mean. But seriously, why?”
You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless.
“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him.
Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin.
“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.”
“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over.
“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.”
You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually.
“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to.
“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.”
“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.”
With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face.
The way he looked at you now was like worship.
“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think.
“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?”
Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours.
Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips.
Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt.
You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you.
The way he held you was reverent.
When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.
“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much.
You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.
Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots.
Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up.
He didn’t kiss and tell after all.
“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.”
“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could.
“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.”
“Am I not allowed to have good days?”
“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?”
“With my sets, yes.”
“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.”
Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking.
Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight.
It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him.
Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could.
The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through.
The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride.
“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning.
“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?”
You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.”
Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life.
The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).
The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.
The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness.
The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness.
“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!”
“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.”
Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you.
Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through.
You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.”
Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?”
Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.”
”That is a great idea,” you chimed in.
“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully).
”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.”
The team went silent. “You have a what?!”
The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously.
“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.”
You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”
You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together.
“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.”
“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.”
“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.”
Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?”
You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her.
Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty.
She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur.
“When?”
“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you.
“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly.
“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.”
“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing.
“Shush.”
The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house.
She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.”
You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did.
“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.”
“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold.
“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.”
“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?”
“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.”
He was planning on not headlining the booth?
Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest.
Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like.
“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out.
“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.”
Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory.
“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.
When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing.
That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag.
“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever).
You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth.
“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.”
“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside.
“Wow. How did you know about the name?”
“I have my sources,” you winked.
Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.”
“So you do know.”
“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.”
You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you.
“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.”
“We don’t have to right now.”
“Thanks Tooru.”
“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.”
You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?”
Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.”
You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes.
“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance.
“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”
You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.”
“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“
“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.”
You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle.
“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.”
You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.”
Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty.
Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.
When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively.
He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response.
”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.”
Correction: something was horrifically wrong.
“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.
“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.”
Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to.
However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment.
“Were you guys dating?”
“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”
“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?”
You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet.
“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!”
You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.”
At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.”
“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.”
Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.”
The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant.
Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus.
You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled.
Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame.
“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been.
“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.”
“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?”
“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.”
“The team matters.”
“The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.”
“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?”
Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.”
You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.”
“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”
“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room.
“Je suis fâché.”
“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?”
“J’aime sortir avec mes amis.”
“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?”
“Je ne veux pas continuer.”
“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again.
He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now.
“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move.
He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air.
Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth.
“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?”
Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.”
“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.”
Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.”
He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?”
Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.”
The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you.
He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you.
When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours.
Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this.
“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.”
“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”
You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid.
Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall.
Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point.
Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him).
“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.”
“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.”
“But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up.
“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.”
“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react.
You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it.
“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.”
You nodded.
“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance. I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.”
“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”
“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?”
You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad.
“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?”
Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling.
“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.”
You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile.
You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?”
“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.
As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today.
Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign.
The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually.
He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths.
“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop.
“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!”
Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!”
He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands.
He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations.
The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.
To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit).
“This is pretty amazing, huh?”
Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him.
“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.”
“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?”
Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound
that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.”
Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?”
Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.”
The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?”
“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure.
“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”
“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.”
Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool.
Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week.
Maybe today would be okay after all.
You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you.
Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself.
Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.
Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa?
You weren’t sure.
The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass.
Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit.
“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.”
“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”
Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money.
He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”
You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.”
Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.”
You snickered. “Not a chance.”
Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.
“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.”
“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row.
The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later.
Soon enough, you were at the front of the line.
“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?”
“Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?”
“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.”
You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”
Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in.
For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands.
The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene.
You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today.
You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range.
This was intriguing.
“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding.
“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!”
“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?”
“Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.”
In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye.
“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!”
The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?”
You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.
“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!”
“Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.”
“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand.
“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them.
Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated.
“Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!”
In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable.
Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line.
“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?”
You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.”
You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line.
“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered.
“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?”
“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.”
The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra.
“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.”
“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand.
“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple.
“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.”
You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress.
“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.”
“He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said.
“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.”
Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him.
“Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.”
“We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins.
He really had meant everything. You needed to see him.
When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss.
You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late?
At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you.
You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them.
You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was.
Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands.
“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.”
Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.”
You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.”
Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.
This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession.
It felt better than both of those things.
When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections.
“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe.
“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.
©mysterystarz all rights reserved, please do not plagiarize, translate, or modify my fics in any way even if credited
if you got this far, thank you for reading <3!!
#nova scribbles <3#oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa x y/n#oikawa x you#oikawa tooru fluff#oikawa tooru angst#oikawa tooru x you#oikawa tooru x y/n#oikawa headcanons#oikawa fic#hq oikawa#haikyuu oikawa#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x female reader#haikyuu x f!reader#haikyuu fic#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu angst#hq fluff#hq x reader#hq x you#hq imagines#haikyuu#kuroo testuro#kuroo tetsurou
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second best (pt 2) — iwaizumi hajime
notes: at last, the heavily requested part 2 to this fic !! i really hope it met a lot of your guys’ standards — i tried my best to take as much of your requests into account ^_^ i rlly dislike m the flow of this … but hopefully u guys still enjoy LOL
tags: angst → (bittersweet?) fluff, depressive episode (reader), swearing (once), a longgg process of grief and healing and whatnot, alcoholism (only briefly), roommate! tsukishima, best friend! oikawa, tsukishima does NOT have feelings for you, not proofread and quite long
taglist (incl. everyone who asked for a pt 2 !!): @altumsomnum @gennaray @romanticandupsetting @multi-fandom-fanfic
it was tuesday.
a frigid air pierced your limbs and left you to rot away, with the windows shut tight and the door locked. there was no mistakening the dark bags hanging beneath your eyes or the flakes of skin peeling from your bottom lip, nor the soft pleas of your stomach or the iciness of your fingertips. you basked in eternal slumber and silence and darkness and whatnot, save for the ticks of a clock that was 14 minutes behind and the hum of the air conditioning.
you were not frightened in the slightest. the warning signs plastered on your flesh were no great concern, and you could not fathom the idea of having to function again. it was horribly consuming.
with a groan, you released yourself from bed, your legs trembling under the mere weight of the air. you avoided the collections of trash and clothes splayed across the floor, being careful not to disturb the peace that had formed over the past handful of weeks. the sight of the kitchen was much more refreshing.
you were locked in stasis. contrary to the comfort these walls once provided, they now served as a a form of imprisonment, designed to allow the grief and the sorrow and the anger and the guilt to coalesce and spill over. it was terribly suffocating — you wished to escape.
gently, you poured a cup of water (not that you drank more than a sip, anyways). a thought passed your mind.
you needed to leave.
sendai was a home you could not find solace in anymore. gone was the youth encapsulated in the mountaintops and the hidden pathways and the convenience stores, and no longer could you feel at ease when faced with the neighborhoods you familiarized yourself with as a child.
your new apartment was shared with an old face — one you had only seen glances of in high school, notorious for his glasses and upfront attitude. he bore no hesitance when taking you in. instead, he was grateful for your presence, as if splitting the rent with him had taken off his life’s burden off of his shoulders.
he was quick to set ground rules — laundry days were on saturdays, trash needed to be taken out on sundays, the dish washer had to be clear at the end of the day, all groceries were shared, so on and so forth. you weren’t sure if you could keep up.
it took one week for him to actually conversate.
“why did you come back here?” he questioned, with a tone that implied he knew of you for years upon years (which would be false).
you picked at the skin of your lip. “why do you ask?”
“no reason. just curious.”
in a burst of energy, you recounted the tales of your past life, one of love and youth and joy; of the old apartment, of your past hobbies, of hajime. his gaze was so distant that you weren’t sure if he was listening at all.
in return, he expressed brief apologies and turned the story to himself — he discussed his volleyball career, his teammates, how he felt somewhat disconnected from his high school friends. he did not care to mention the exhaustion riddled into the pores on your face nor the weakness of your voice. that was all you needed. a conversation, not comfort.
only an hour later did he remind you of his name — tsukishima kei — and it was only then that you realized you had moved into an apartment without taking any precautions whatsoever. he laughed when you informed him of the situation.
this was not yet a home, but it was a house. and that was sufficient.
a month had passed before tsukishima forced you to get a job. he was clearly not a fool — at some point (you couldn’t tell when), he realized you were paying off your share of the rent with your life savings, which irked him ever so slightly.
“do you plan on moving out and dying on the streets when you run out?” he complained, despite the concern laced in the fluctuations of his voice.
you began working at his former high school coach’s family store. the owner himself was welcoming — he didn’t question your circumstances nor your physical state, and merely mentioned in passing that he was “given a token of appreciation from a prized student.”
and so began the cycle. on weekday mornings, you would depart for work and tsukishima would leave for practice. occasionally, he would pack you lunch (“only because i had leftovers,” he’d say) or leave a can of coffee on the counter for you. you would work at the register until the amalgamation of students died down, and once you were left with an empty store, you would take a break and go on a walk (as requested by your boss). then, you would return in the afternoon to serve the same population of children, handing them their ice cream and their sandwiches and whatnot. when they all disappeared, the coach would let you free and dismiss you with a “good work today, let’s do it again tomorrow.”
returning home was your favorite part of the schedule. a majority of the time, tsukishima arrived later than you, leaving you to your own time until he came home with dinner and a drink.
it was a monotonous cycle, but enjoyable nonetheless.
“i��m cutting off the beer for a month,” tsukishima exclaimed one warm summer night. you left your room to see him collecting unopened bottles and discarding them in a trash bag with little regard. you could only frown.
“those are all going to waste, we haven’t even opened them,” you groaned.
there was no response from the man as he continued to clear the apartment of any alcohol, akin to a parent cleansing their child’s home. before you could protest any further, he shut the door behind him and the crashing of bottles against one another could be heard beside the building.
tsukishima re-entered the apartment with empty hands and furrowed brows. “what’s up with the shitty face?” you asked from the couch.
he clicked his tongue at your comment and bore no response, instead letting his eyes wander to the screen in front of you. the morning news was playing, as usual. and yet, it was so wrong.
the screen flashed to a familiar face, one clad with a slight grin and sweat spread over his skin. his hair had grown slightly and his complexion had darkened, evidence of his labor. but most of all, he looked happy. his eyes screamed with a passion you hadn’t seen before, and despite his haggard appearance, he seemed to be content.
you did not see tsukishima rushing to turn off the television. you did not see the screen turn black, and you did not hear the noise diminish. you did not see tsukishima’s face adjacent to yours.
“hey. let’s go outside,” he muttered before moving to pull you up and out of the house
a delicate breeze washed over you both. the sun began to kiss you goodbye, and the noon crept up in its wake, leaving both of you in the dark.
“he looked so happy,” you whispered. “i don’t know what i’m doing wrong.”
you watched tsukishima light a cigarette in your peripherals, his lighter evidently battered and marred from heavy use. he made no move to offer one to you. “you’re not doing anything wrong,” he spoke firmly, although you could tell he was struggling to formulate the right combination of words in his head. “he’s just… going along a different path.”
“it should’ve been us on the same path. i feel so stupid. he’s gone on to do such great things, and i… what am i doing?”
tsukishima didn’t push the conversation any further. you were grateful.
a week had passed before tsukishima told you he had gotten you a new job, one deeper in the city. on an early sunday morning, he presented a uniform and badge to you, your name imprinted on both. the effort made you smile.
at some point, a new cycle formed. the museum was a far cry from the run down family store, and tsukishima taught you how to welcome it with an open mind and open arms. he never did mention the exact reason for the new occupation, nor did he tell you why he was so adamant on enforcing routine in your life. nonetheless, you appreciated it.
the mundanity that your new job encapsulated was slightly more enjoyable than that of your former job. exploring the concrete rooms filled with statues and paintings and whatnot was a sufficient way to pass the time. every now and then, you’d catch your roommate detailing a specific sculpture to a curious visitor, the scene contrasting his typical behavior. not that you would ever mention it to him, though.
a new routine was not unwelcome, but it did not feel impactful anymore. you still burned blue in the night, your bones aching with reminiscence over a lost life. your hands and legs still knew tokyo; they still knew the morning commutes and the bustling cafés and the chirping crosswalks and your own home, one that had been so devastatingly haunted by grief. your heart still knew the morning calls and the evening texts and the handfuls upon handfuls of promises made on once solid territory, and yet, you knew to return to it was to betray yourself.
you missed iwaizumi hajime.
rather, you missed the life that you formulated in his presence, opposed to the shambles you had grown comfortable in now that you were back home. tsukishima had carved a clay pot for your worn soul, and yet you could not help but yearn for the comfort and stability and routine you established in a past life.
the soft padding of feet echoed outside your door. soft strings of light streamed under your door as your roommate entered the kitchen, his actions indiscernible as he maneuvered about carefully. you decided to step out to greet him.
a startled tsukishima turned around to face you. “what are you still doing up?” he interrogated, albeit not in offense. “it’s late. we have work tomorrow.”
“but i don’t want to go to work. i want to go home,” you protested. you felt childish all over again — the thirst for selfishness was one that could not escape you, even now. an overwhelming desire to be in control of your own life.
tsukishima furrowed his brows. “to tokyo?” you nodded. “okay… then let’s go to tokyo.” he paid no mind to the slanted smile that transformed your lips, instead opting to turn away and fill up his bottle. “but why?”
“i need to escape,” you sighed, as if releasing a burden that had been lingering for a moment too long. “i need change. i just- i feel so stuck. i need to live.”
he merely hummed in agreement before uttering a comment about your poor sleeping schedule and ushering you back to bed.
tokyo was a city of hopes and dreams and noise. the shift from sendai’s cicada lullabies and whispers in the wind to the incessant chatter and obnoxious roads of the city was significant — any pedestrian would notice the irritation on you and tsukishima’s faces.
the inn he picked was small, yet slightly more comfortable than your current abode. the owners were kind and your neighbors were quiet, save for the occasional drunk couple. it was a life you remembering living, but not one you yearned for any longer.
in the night, you would both visit various attractions and markets and restaurants, with tsukishima insisting on paying for your meals (“as thanks for getting a life,” he argued). for that handful of days, you bore a smile that you weren’t sure would grace your lips ever again, for there was an adolescence in the evening activities that mended the remnants of your spirit. you felt whole.
on the last day, you brought tsukishima to a ramen house nearby the inn and promised to pay for the meal. it was a tuesday, again.
for reasons you could not discover, that appeared to be one of the busiest nights for the establishment — moments after you had settled, a line began to form, and the tables were crowded with families and friend groups and dates alike.
amidst the composition of metropolitans stood a man you wished you didn’t have to see. as if it were punishment, he locked his eyes with yours, the shock in his complimenting your dread.
you watched as he excused himself from his group while ignoring the cheers and shouts about him “shooting his shot.” tsukishima observed in tandem, seemingly reading the situation from a distance despite sitting right across from you.
you noticed the bold athletic trainer embroidered onto his chest, and the fitted red shirt he wore that matched those of his team. beads of sweat compiled on his forehead — you weren’t sure if it was from the density of the room or his exhaustion or anxiety. a small part of you hoped it was the second option.
“hey,” he began. “can- can we speak outside?”
you could not help but oblige.
hajime seemed to have developed an obsession with fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you noticed the frayed strands on a spot that aligned perfectly with his hand, and you nearly laughed.
he coughed into his fist before rambling. “i’m sorry. i know you definitely don’t want to see me, and it’s not wrong of you at all to feel that way, but i just- i’ve thought about you- no, i think about you every day up until now. i know i don’t deserve you at all, and me being here is probably super upsetting, but-“
“hajime.”
the way you called his name seemed to deteriorate him and his principles. you finally felt otherwise.
“i really, really, didn’t want to see you at all. i don’t even want the thought of you to pass my mind. i’ve built a life outside of you and i’m tired of you interrupting it.” you witnessed his heart, mind, and body freeze simultaneously.
“i- i understand that, i know, i’m sorry. i’ve been- i’ve been reflecting a lot recently and i’ve known i was horribly in the wrong and i’m ashamed to have done nothing about it, and i know this sounds really, really dumb but i wish i had just stayed with you for that extra day because- because i don’t think i can go any longer without you now that i have you here, in front of me. could we- can we at least… keep in touch?” he seemed to speak without limitations, akin to a leaking clay pot. he was distressed, evidently. but you no longer saw his face and thought of guilt and love and yearning; you held no space for him.
you shook your head gently. “hajime, i don’t want you in my life anymore. you achieved your dreams, and i’m working on finding mine. that’s how it was meant to be.”
if not for the small lamp above the two of you, you would not have noticed the tears spilling onto his face. you bore no sympathy — with a goodbye and a small wave, you left him in the alley with a heavy heart and saline tears.
to witness him before you had awakened the truth riddled in your sinew and bloodstream: iwaizumi hajime was no longer a necessity. a truth that had cowered away beneath guilt and fragility and shame had uncovered itself, and for once, you breathed a full breath.
oikawa seemed so vibrant on the other side of your screen, the argentinian sun kissing his skin almost perfectly. “…i miss you lots!! i’ll visit soon, maybe, and we can catch up and maybe go get coffee and then debrief and then…” he trailed off with an aloof grin, his words spilling out from your phone and reverberating around the living room. tsukishima stood in the kitchen, the sound of his deliberate chopping and washing contesting oikawa’s voice. “but anyways, i’ll see you soon! byebye!!”
you waved goodbye and hung up, leaving only the noise of your roommate’s cooking. a loud groan left his lips in the midst of his mixing, followed by a complaint about how irritable your friend’s voice was. you could only laugh.
gentle strings of moonlight spilled into the apartment through the kitchen window, the songs of the evening falling upon both of you and your shared comfort. tomorrow was your off day, granting you both an opportunity for an actual meal. tsukishima (begrudgingly) agreed to make your favorite dish, with the request that you’d make his favorite dessert next week.
“thank you for the meal,” you whispered. tonight would consist of good food and a relaxing night, and tomorrow would entail a day of rest and a weekly reset, along with another call with oikawa. with marred hands and a porcelain heart, you had managed at last to craft a solid life — steady health, steady friends, and a steady routine.
you would no longer be second best to anything, and that was sufficient enough.
#haikyuu#haikyuu fics#haikyuu oikawa#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu!!#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu iwaizumi#iwaizumi angst#iwaizumi x reader#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu tsukishima#tsukishima smut#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima angst#iwaizumi smut#iwaizumi fluff#hq oikawa#oikawa tooru#tsukishima hcs#tsukishima haikyuu#tsukishima kei#hq tsukishima#iwaizumi x y/n#iwaizumi x you#hq iwaizumi#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi headcanons
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Making Up After A Fight
word count: 756 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.
pairing: post-time skip Oikawa x chubby!Reader
genre: angst with happy ending
warnings: none, just Oikawa being hard on himself and insecure
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Oikawa hates fighting as much as you do.
But sometimes it was inevitable. His training schedule had been crazy, the coach had scolded him for putting too much pressure on his bad knee and he was frustrated with himself for delivering, as he thought, disappointing performances on the court lately.
And unfortunately, you were the best girlfriend through all of this. Something he should be happy about, but like many times before it just made him realize that he didn't deserve you.
He couldn't give you the time he wanted. He wished more than anything that you would just tell him how disappointed you were in the relationship and in him, for not being good enough, there enough, doting enough - he hated it. He hated every second, because he knew that when he got to his phone at the end of training, a sweet and loving message would wait for him, saying that you missed him. You would have maybe sent a picture of something cute that reminded you of him during your day or suggested something to do together on his next day off. It was infuriating that you never blamed him for not being the boyfriend he should be.
So it came as no surprise that one night after practice, when he was over at your place, he snapped. He just arrived, took off his shoes and smelled the lovely home cooked meal that was simmering on the stove. You came to greet him, smiling tiredly but genuinely happy to see him and he couldn't take it anymore. He started yelling and gesturing, asking you why you even bothered with him, told you how you weren't right for him, that you made him feel like garbage, turned on his heels, grabbed his shoes and left.
You stood in the doorway of your kitchen, not knowing, not understanding what had just happened but you also knew that he had never yelled at you before. Ever. Sure you'd seen him frustrated and stressed but even then his outbursts were never directed at you. Not like this.
Tears started to fill your eyes. You grabbed your phone, wanting to call him, had already one arm in your jacket to go after him, but decided against it.
The phone in your hand buzzed but it was only a text from your friend asking about your day. You typed a nondescript reply, not wanting them to worry and promised to call tomorrow.
Now only silence filled your apartment. Silence and the taunting smell of an untouched dinner.
You paced a while up and down your living room, throwing tentative glances through your window to see if you could maybe spot him on the dark street below. But nothing.
You started several messages to Tooru but deleted them before hitting send - none of them sounded right.
Not knowing what else to do, you put the now cold dinner into the fridge, took a shower and headed to bed, unable to stop more tears rolling onto the pillow.
You heard the front door unlock at around 1 am, but didn't know if you just imagined it in your half sleep state.
A soft knock came from your bedroom door. You weren’t exactly in the mood to talk, so you stayed quiet. Another soft knock and the door opened slowly. For the longest moment Oikawa just stood in the doorway, looking at your, he assumed, sleeping form.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes and then shrugged off his jacket to sit on the bed. Slowly, carefully, he laid down behind you, moving closer to wrap his arm around your soft waist.
"Are you awake?", he murmured.
You shifted slightly to show him you were.
"I'm really sorry.", he whispered gingerly into the crook of your neck, "You did absolutely nothing wrong, I promise. It's just with the training and my screw ups at the last match and you have been so great about it all and-"
You heard his throat closing up as he nuzzled closer to you, "I really don't know how you put up with it. I'm never around, I never have time to do normal couple stuff, I mess up your sleep schedule and you never complain. I feel horrible."
You finally turn around to face him. "Well, I am mad at you now, if that makes you feel better."
He had to chuckle through his tears and bit his lip, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. "I love you, darling."
You snuggled into his chest and entwined your fingers with his. "I love you, too."
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#oikawa x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#oikawa angst#haikyuu angst#oikawa fluff#haikyuu fluff#oikawa x reader#haikyuu oikawa#oikawa tooru#hq oikawa#chubby reader
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— in love and war cw alcohol, intoxication, reader has bad friends and a loving ex
oikawa’s already frowning when he pulls up next to you, hazard lights highlighting your face in blinking orange. the apples of your cheeks seem softer in this light, bunching together and causing your eyes to curve into happy crescents as his name tumbles easily from your lips.
“why are you by yourself?” oikawa demands as he nears you, outstretched hand meeting yours.
“‘m not,” you grin at the contact, letting yourself tiptoe closer to oikawa until you’re leaning against his chest. “my friends are over there,” you point up the road where oikawa can only just make out a gaggle of people, “see?”
a hand sits on your shoulder, heavy and grounding and serious. you look awfully pleased under its warmth. “why aren’t they with you?”
you look up at oikawa with a thoughtful hum, genuinely trying to remember as your brows furrow. “didn’t want to be with them,” you exhale, shrugging. your friends have never been as kind as they should be, you know oikawa doesn’t like them. you lighten up again, “’sides, was waiting for you.”
it feels like a punch to the stomach when oikawa shakes his head at you. and suddenly aching, you let him tug you back to his car and settle you in, having precariously parked in all his concern.
the drive back is quiet, nothing more than the mindless rattling of a late night radio host and the gentle purr of the engine. oikawa can feel you staring at him, trying to gage whether or not he’s mad at you.
the passing streetlights make your head swirl, a little dizzier than out in the street where fresh air filled your lungs. but you’re not alone now, and the leather seats of oikawa’s car are worn and familiar. your fingers run across the thick stitches and you use them as markers to count the flickers of orange that dance across oikawa’s face one by one. they make him look handsome, drawing long shadows across his sharp features and warming his eyes.
by the time oikawa’s pulled in, you’ve fallen asleep, chin tucked into your chest with your last thought being the driver beside you. it could’ve been worse, oikawa muses, you could’ve been sick.
he allows himself a moment. a sliver of peace to watch the way your chest rises and falls, air punctuated only by soft exhales. you really did look pretty, routine of dressing up for a night out long since perfected. oikawa can’t forget the way you’d shone when you’d caught sight of him. he leaves the car before the thought can stick any longer.
he’s only away for a split second, rounding the bonnet to get to you. the door opens and suddenly he’s surrounding you, leaning close to pull at the seatbelt, fresh linen and vanilla.
oikawa freezes when your fingers curl around his wrist. “i miss you,” you murmur. his heart stutters painfully.
you half think you’ve imagined the mumbled confession, oikawa continuing to work at the seatbelt until you’re free and easing yourself into his arms. you stumble a little as you get out the car, it’s ok, oikawa’s got you.
“let’s go inside first,” he finally responds, voice taut.
oikawa’s flat is just as you remember, down to every last detail. the framed picture of his high school volleyball club that greets you at the door, and the blue umbrella that he never remembers to take by the shoe rack. the slightly wonky kitchen cupboard door that houses mismatched mugs collected over the years, and the blanket you’d made together on the arm of the sofa, his fabric intertwined with yours. knowing it all like the back of your hand, you walk a familiar path to his room.
“i miss you,” you repeat, firmer this time as you perch on the end of his bed, trying hard not to get overwhelmed by the comfort of his sheets. it’s so much stronger here, fresh linen, vanilla and the faintest touch of the ocean air.
oikawa shuts his eyes, “you’re drunk.”
“i’m not,” it’s true, you’d sobered up quickly on the ride back, “i had a few drinks but i’m not drunk. i mean what i said, i swear i wouldn’t lie to you.” you wouldn’t be this coherent drunk. and under the effects of alcohol, you’d never approach such a serious topic as you and tooru like this. you both know that.
“i know you wouldn’t, but you’ve still drank, you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. and i can’t listen to you say you miss me when i can’t tell you how i feel in return, knowing your head’s all hazy and your judgement’s wrong.”
your fingers wind in oikawa’s sheets. “you don’t have to believe me right now, i’ll tell you in the morning and every day after if that’s what it takes. but you can tell me,” you urge, “you can tell me anything.”
the floodgates open.
“you can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep calling me and asking me to pick you up, because you know i will, you know i care,” oikawa’s voice is low, defeated, as it expels the truth, “it’s not fair.”
the wobble in his words makes your heart hurt and you rub at your chest, hoping the pressure will ease some of the pain. it doesn’t. instead, it comes out in your response, more unfair than anything, “i only ever call you, i only ever want you. and it’s the same reason why you still care.”
a call of your name shuts you up, sternness stopping you in your tracks. oikawa’s never once said your name like this, always honeyed and warm and fond. the ache swells.
you crawl into bed, pulling the covers up tight to your neck and trying to hide the glassiness in your eyes. you wouldn’t cry, you couldn’t cry. oikawa was right, it wasn’t fair. because you had broken things off, you hadn’t been able to deal with the drowning comfort of oikawa’s love, and yet, you were the one calling him when you needed someone to rely on. each and every time. “’m sorry,” you whisper, the thickness in your voice comes through anyway.
“i know,” oikawa sighs, tucking in next to you, one hand around your waist and the other running through your hair, the position you’ve always liked, “i’m sorry too.”
when oikawa wakes in the morning, the glass he left on the bedside table is empty and a single painkiller has been punched out of the foil packet. the bed too is cold, a collection of wrinkled sheets and pooling blankets. your presence in the room is barely there, only evident by a trail of absences.
oikawa curls up, bed suddenly too big, too lonely, as he tugs the duvet up and over his head. he lies there for a long time, a lump as he reprimands himself. it was true, what he said last night - this wasn’t fair, he couldn’t keep doing this routine. and yet, he couldn’t do anything but care for you, its like he was programmed to. you can’t keep waiting forever, his brain commands and the twinge in his heart pulls his knees closer to his chest.
“oikawa?” the gentle call of his name forces him out from his mind and underneath the covers. his head pokes out from the duvet, brown hair messy and eyes bleary. you notice the downturn of his lips first at the sound of his surname on your tongue. it seems clunky, awkward.
your stomach churns and your hands grip cruelly at the cup inbetween your hands. it’s coffee, half milk with two heaps of sugar and caramel syrup. not the way you like it at all. you hold it out and oikawa’s kind not to mention the tiny tremble of your arms. “if you’ll let me, i owe you something,” you pause, “i miss you, tooru.”
tooru beams. not forever at all.
#oikawa#haikyuu#oikawa x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu angst#oikawa fluff#oikawa angst#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu hcs#oikawa scenarios#oikawa drabble#oikawa imagine#oikawa headcanons#oikawa hcs#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa tooru#oikawa toru#oikawa tohru
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oh my god, they were roommates
part 2 to and they were roommates. no cws, just silliness.
you're not talking to tooru.
he's not sure how you manage it so effectively. you eat all your meals in your room while he's home, except for when you manage to sneak from there to the door while he's in the bathroom. his only clue that you've gone out is that you leave your bedroom door open when you do, really hammering home how empty his life suddenly is.
"even when we're in the same room," he sighs, resting his cheek on his fist. "it's like trying to grab a fish out of the water. i turn around or blink and poof! gone!"
"your sleeve is dipping into your drink," says his date. "and i really think you need to discuss this with your roommate. at home. alone."
tooru waves goodbye forlornly as they stand up and walks out of the restaurant, leaving behind a half-eaten ball of rice and a broken man.
"you are like a sad, sad," akaashi says, pausing to really linger on the word sad, "wet cat. please stop bringing your dates here to mope about—to them. you are forming bad associations between our business and your terrible romantic etiquette."
akaashi keiji is a mangaka now, or an editor for one, anyway; he works at onigiri miya (tokyo location) on the side because it's the only way he routinely leaves the house; tooru brings his dating drama here to brighten up what must surely be a terribly boring life.
"what would you do without me, akaashi-kun," tooru stretches his arms high with a languid sigh that makes akaashi worry that he has comprehended none of his words. "wouldn't you be so miserable if you didn't have me to bring romance and excitement to your life?"
"i have a boyfriend of several years," akaashi says, which is rude to remind tooru of while he's in such a vulnerable state. "i have plenty of excitement with him in my life."
"inconsiderate!" tooru snorts. "please break up with him to show me solidarity."
"i will not be doing that." akaashi picks up the nameless and now-vanished date's plate and takes a bite out of the leftover food.
"understandable," tooru nods, "that's very reasonable. i just don't know what to do, or how to fix it, or what i did wrong."
"you come in here every other night to whine about what you did wrong."
"do not."
"do too," akaashi sticks out his tongue at him. there's a grain of rice stuck to his lip. "you spent several months going out on dates trying to make your friend-turned roommate jealous—during which, I'll note, you basically exclusively talked about the person you were and continue to be obsessed with—then initiated... romantic physical contact, then ran away. because you have the attachment style of a stray cat."
"ah, akaashi-kun," tooru says. "are you saying i get around?"
"i am saying you are lurking outside the window and begging for attention and then biting the hand that feeds you when you get it.”
“oh.” tooru is quiet for a moment. “can i get the check?”
“it’s on the house if you’ll just go home and talk to your roommate and never come back here with another date.” akaashi says, finishing off the onigiri.
“deal.”
your room is empty, your bedroom door ajar when he comes home. mournfully, tooru sits on the bed, reminiscing over the hours he'd spent gossiping with you here.
he'll just wait for you to get back. when he used to take you dancing—with your other friends, but you'd wind your arms around his neck and he'd run light hands over your waist, your hips, and you would look at him like no one else even existed—you always wanted to leave before midnight. it's ten-forty-nine now, according to his watch, so he's sure you'll be back before long.
you get home at two-oh-four. you had never seen the point in staying out longer when going home and chatting over a bowl of cheesy noodles with tooru was so much more appealing—you didn't want to dance with anyone else anyway. now, though, you don't want to be home, and you have something to prove. to who, you're not sure, but you find yourself staying out later and later.
even though you always return home alone. you'd thought about really upping the ante, about moving on as abruptly as possible, but you couldn't. it felt like going too far in this petty revenge game. after all, you still—
you stop short, dropping your shoes on the floor. the devil is in your bed, lying on his side, knees tucked to his chest to fit his absurdly long frame. his breaths are even and deep, his face peaceful.
"oh, tooru," you sigh, and climb over him to tuck yourself against his warm side.
you blink your eyes open slowly, sleep still gleaming in the corners of your vision. there's a weight on your hip and something that smells really, really good surrounding you, nearly lulling you back to sleep.
"oh, please don't," says a voice you haven't heard in days. "my arm's circulation has been completely cut off. i may never serve again."
you jolt away from the soft source of warmth, which you realize belatedly is oikawa's chest.
"what happened?" you say, swiping at your face with the back of your hand.
he looks frustratingly perfect as always, brown hair rumpled, eyes soft like you aren't in the biggest spat of your friendship.
"i was waiting for you," he admits, leaning on his side and casting his eyes down, his lashes shadowing his high cheekbones. "because i wanted to apologize, to be clear. i must have fallen asleep, and then i woke up, and it was like—"
"yes," you cough. "i see. um."
"i'm sorry," he says. "hey, look at me. i'm really sorry."
"for what, oikawa?" you laugh nervously.
"for being stupid," he rolls one shoulder in a shrugging motion. "for trying to make you jealous and instead just being, like, a complete fucking clown during all of it."
"make me jealous?" you say, blinking at him.
"please don't look at me like that," he says, scrubbing over his face with the hand that's not propping up his head. "it-you make me nervous."
"we've been friends for years," you say, still apparently lost. "how can i make you nervous?"
"you always will," he laughs, but it's strained. "look—i like you. probably more, but i'm trying not to scare you—any more than i already have, i mean. i'm not sorry for kissing you, is what i mean. i should just—i should probably go."
"wait," you say firmly before he can untangle himself from your sheets. putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing yourself up to meet his lips, which are soft and dry and parted slightly with surprise.
the kiss is warm and lingers, even after you pull away. tooru stares at you with dazed eyes that make you shy, dropping your own. his voice is quiet but hopeful, contrasting his words in tone when he speaks.
"what the fuck?"
#haikyuu!! x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq!! x reader#oikawa x reader angst#oikawa angst#oikawa fluff#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa toru x reader#oikawa x reader#oikawa x reader fluff#oikawa tōru x reader
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Can you do any of the Haikyuu boys x Fem!reader, where they get into an argument (with an angst ending please🥹🥹🥹) if you can’t that’s perfectly fine <3
Haikyuu boys getting in an argument with Fem!reader, and never solve the problem.
Warnings: angst, no comfort, swearing, harsh words, cheating, heavy breakups.
Oikawa
You were such a perfect couple, at least, that's what you thought. You were so proud of him, always comforted him after losing, he cared for you, he helped you with school. It was kinda weird that he never showed you publicly, or even mentioned that he has a relationship in interviews, but those didn't matter that much to you. You were in love, right? So then, why did you find him like this?
“Oikawa how could you do this to me?” you asked him desperately trying to hear that it was just a dream. “I’m sorry, I got bored of this relationship’’ he simply replied. Your eyes widened. “Y-You got b-bored?? Oikawa Tooru, how could you? I was there to wipe your tears when you lost, and I still didn't get bored -you paused- i hoped and prayed that one day you’ll win and be happy, and I would’ve wiped those tears again because they would’ve been of joy. And you got b-bored?” you looked at him with tears running down your cheeks. “I don't need to explain myself, it’s not my fault you were dumb and got attached” and with that he simply left you there, crying all by yourself.
Atsumu
He was so full of himself tonight. His team won an official match against Karasuno, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to treat you like this.
“How about we celebrate by eating out?” you asked while he sat on your shared bed. “Nah, I'll go talk to the boys and maybe play a game or two” he said standing up from the bed. “Why don’t you celebrate with me and you celebrate with them? I was there for you in stands of all your matches”
“Y/n, they are my teammates, they are more important than you are. Plus, you are a woman, why don’t you go back in the kitchen and make me something to eat.” your face got all red and flushed, you grabbed your purse and hit him in the head with full force. “Fuck you!” you grabbed your keys and left the apartment.
You slept at your friend's house, actually, you barely slept. You waited for him to call you all night, but he never did.
Kuroo
The last few days had been very tense. You and your boyfriend Kuroo were having a lot of small arguments,about the fact that he got late home almost everyday, he wasn’t giving you enough attention, you couldn’t come to his matches, things like this. But none of the small fights ended like this one in this morning:
“All I’m saying is that you could come home earlier from practice, or at least bother to text me that you’re gonna be late, it’s like you don’t even care that I'm here waiting for you day and night!” you yell at him. “Whatever Y/n, I’m late to practice” you both knew this was a lie. But you heard him mutter under his breath “I wanted a break anyway.”
And with that, he left. He left with no goodbye, no explanation, no excuses. You felt your whole world collapsing on you. You sat with your knees to your chest, crying, hoping he will come back and tell you that he didn’t mean what he just said.
Bokuto
Today he lost another game. And he felt like it was all his fault. So why won't he blame somebody else and maybe let his anger out on that person too?
“Baby, Kou, it’s fine, it’s just a game” you get interrupted by him. “No, it’s not just a game, Y/n, it’s volleyball, everything is important about it! WELL, I MEAN HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHEN YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE A HOBBY, YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING! ALL YOU DO IS BOTHER ME AND KEEP DISTRACTING ME FROM THE ONLY THING THAT I REALLY LOVE!!” you pause your breathing. You felt so guilty, you look down, you don’t even dare maintaining eye contact with your “boyfriend”. Tears pick at your eyes, and you cross your arms.
“Yeah, sure, cry, that’s all you can do, since you know what I just said is true.” You felt those words cut so deep, your heart broke in a million pieces.
Osamu
You never really learned how to cook, but seeing your boyfriend cook everyday made you learn a few things, so you thought you could make something special for him tonight. I mean, what could go wrong? Everything.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU WASTED SO MUCH INGREDIENTS, AND YOU STILL FUCKING BURNED IT, HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE?!” he yelled at you, showing you the mess you made in his kitchen. “I'm really sorry, I just wanted to make something good for you once…”
“Well, apparently you can’t, so why don't you just leave?” You looked up at him, but his gaze scared you- there was no more love in his eyes, not even a little bit. What was wrong with you, were you that hard to love?
Iwaizumi
“I love listening to you” you confess to him. “You do?” you look at him, reassuring him “Yes baby, of course i do! Even when you talk about how much you hate Oikawa, you know, i had a friend that i hated her the exact same way but-”
“Well if you like listening to me, then why do you make it about yourself?” you froze. Did you just do that? “I-” you looked into his eyes searching for his love and reassuring but where were those? “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to, you know that, right? I’m really sorry, Haji, look at me” you tried grabbing his face but he pushed your hands away. “Just leave me alone already, with your excuses and everything. I’m getting tired of this. We’re done.”
You hated yourself. That small mistake you didn’t even know you made, cost you everything.
...
Hey!! Of course I can write this! Sorry it took a long time, someone caught a cold and couldn't do it on time. Hope you liked it!
💕💕💕
#haikyuu angst#hq boys#haikyuu headcanons#hq angst#haikyuu boys#hq headcanons#oikawa tooru#oikawa x reader#oikawa angst#oikawa headcanons#miya atsumu#atsumu x reader#atsumu angst#atsumu headcanons#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader#kuroo angst#kuroo headcanons#bokuto koutarou#bokuto x reader#bokuto angst#bokuto headcanons#miya osamu#osamu x reader#osamu angst#osamu headcanons#iwazumi hajime#iwaizumi x reader#iwaizumi angst#iwaizumi headcanons
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⍣ ೋ after the break-up
☆ kuroo, oikawa, daichi, hinata, bokuto akaashi, sakusa
KUROO TETSURO — assuming reader is the one who ended it, he's absolutely blindsided and shocked. he walks around in a daze; to anyone who didn't know him, he just looks tired or whatever. to whoever does, it's clear he's absolutely destroyed and crushed. of course, he'll try to act his best to not let it show how sad he is, but it really shows when his teammates were wondering where he was, only to find him sitting alone on a bench, looking down at his feet somberly.
"kuroo." kenma called out softly, his lips pursed into a line at the sight of his childhood sitting ways away from the rest of his team. it took a minute before kuroo was looking over his shoulder to look over at the shorter lad, his eye-bags dark, lips pursed into a straight line. "...i miss her." kuroo mumbled, looking back down at his feet, one of his hands coming up to brush through his distressed black hair.
he feels even worse when he sees you in the distance, walking home with a friend of yours. he can only think and remember when it was him walking you home, your hand intertwined with his. he chews on his lip as you get smaller and smaller as you walk more into the distance. he misses you.
OIKAWA TORŪ — he acts totally unbothered. his teammates didn't even know the two of you broke up until one of them asked about you jokingly, to which oikawa stuck out his tongue, huffing a "she dumped me," before swiping the nonexistent hair off his shoulder with sass. he thinks he's okay; he feels okay. it doesn't catch up to him until one day he's still practicing long after official practice ended.
oikawa grunted as he jumped into the air, his hand coming up to slap the ball. he can only furrow his eyebrows in annoyance when the ball hits the net, dropping over to the floor. "damn it." he curses, wiping the sweat off his forehead. i'm thirsty, he thinks, looking to the side where you would sit on the floor, watching as he practices.
but you're not there... where are you? "y/n-chan?" he calls out, his eyes looking around the empty gym. "..she's gone oikawa, remember— she broke up with you," a voice speaks from behind him. he turns around to see iwaizumi standing behind him, his eyes low with concern. oikawa feels a pang of hurt within his chest, his face morphing into one of hurt. oh, thats right, you left him.
DAICHI SAWAMURA — please, he's so heartbroken. he's so sad and hurt, when you were breaking up with him, he knew he couldn't change your mind, so he let you go, because he knew that was the best choice for the both of you. he stills watches over you, his protectiveness still present. he'll still watch you in class and in the hallways, his eyes never lingering off you for even a second.
"y/n—y/l/n-san," he says meekly, his eyes watching your face for any discomfort. "how are you doing?" he asks. he still attempts to talk to you, even if you crushed his heart completely. "i'm doing great, daichi-san, how about you? how is volleyball going?" his heart stings at your formality, he would do anything just to hear the way you call him by that cute nickname you gave him.
i'm hurt, i miss you, i miss you—i miss you a lot. can we get back together? "i'm doin' great, we are able to go to nationals, i'm so excited." he says with a forced grin, he hopes you don't notice the way his smile doesn't meet his eyes. "sure, let's go to the rooftop?" you say, slowly getting up from your seat. usually, you'd hold his arm as the two of you walked, but you don't. instead, you walk with a slightly behind him with much of a distance for his taste, but it's okay. he doesn't want to make it anymore awkward than it already is. he'd rather be your friend than loose you completely.
HINATA SHOUYO — he cried, he cried for days. even tsukishima felt bad for him. he was almost like a zombie, and he felt even shittier when he was so exhausted that his spikes were shit. he needed your presence, he needed you to be at his side, but you weren't there at all, you left him, you left him shattered and inconsolable. he nearly got sick with the way he was so sad, almost throwing up a few times because of how hard he cried.
"y/n," he calls out from behind you. you turn your head to look him, removing your hand from your locker. "oh, hey, shouyo," you say sheepishly, tone seemingly afraid and hesitant. you seem to know what he's already feeling. "how are you doing?" you ask, turning your body to face him.
"i.." he stammers, swallowing thickly as he tries to prevent his voice from cracking. "uhm—are you gonna be there for my game next saturday?" he asks, his eyes almost wide with the way he waits for your answer. his eyebrows furrow with sadness when you give him a bittersweet smile, "i.. maybe."
BOKUTO KOUTARO — his emotions are even worse than hinata's. he actually refuses to accept the break-up, and literally gets on his knees to beg you not to leave him. he'll literally wrap his arms around your waist, his head mushed into your belly as he cries into your embrace, mumbling apologies and love confessions. he almost loses a couple of games after the breakup because he was such an emotional wreck.
"see you later y/l/n-san." your friend says, waving a goodbye as you part ways with her. you say a goodbye as well before continuing your walk down the halls. your heart beats nervously, sometimes you see bokuto in this part of the school, but you're not surprised that you do. he pops up in front of you, almost as if he was awaiting for your arrival.
"y/n.." he whines, biting on his lower lip, his hair greatly deflated. you can only sigh at the sight in front of you. "hey, kou.." you say softly, you're not even going to try to switch to his surname or even his full first name either, that'll actually destory him and you know that.
"y/n, can we please just–", "kou," "–can we please just talk about this, i need you." he whimpers, hastily walking over to you, his hands grabbing at your elbows. "koutaro." you sternly say, your use of his first full name as him freezing in place, his lips pursing into a straight line as he tries not to cry. he's then pulling you in for a hug, his head resting in the crook of your neck and he sniffles against you, whining your name like a sweet baby. you can only rub your hand against his back comfortingly before you're pulling away from him for the last time.
AKAASHI KEIJI — he tried to handle it maturely, he really tried. he respects your decision, it'll be unfair to force you to stay in a relationship when you're unhappy. like a mature person, he's polite, so polite everyone almost forgets that you two dated. but not everyone, after all, you two dated for almost two years. he's still concerned for you, though, he still looks out for you, he always will.
"y/l/n-san, do you need help with that?" he asks, quickly coming over to your side when he sees you walking with a bunch of books in your hands. "y-yeah, please, akaashi-kun," you stutter, your arms relaxing when he takes more of the lion's share of the books from you. "thank you, they were really heavy." you joke, cheekily grinning at his help.
"no problem, just helping out." he says, looking straight ahead of him blankly. he seems to be dealing with it as well as he can, of course, he misses you, and he still resists the urge to text you late at night when he's upset. what about you though? you can't help the way you're gazing at him from behind, marveling at his pretty emerald eyes. akaashi notices, of course, but he doesn't take a plan of action to do anything about it, and neither do you. it was your decision after-all.
SAKUSA KIYOOMI — like oikawa, he acts totally unbothered. he'll brush off whenever someone sends their condolences on the breakup, either scolding them for their annoying pity, or not saying anything at all. deep inside, he's almost annoyed at the way he's so hurt. it's helpless, there's no point in being sad when he can't do anything about it. but he does, but it's over. he feels out of place, his daily structure and schedule is disrupted, and silently, he still awaits for you to call for your place back into his life.
"ah! kiyo.." you shout, trailing off when he walks right past you. it stings you greatly, but at the same time, you understand his actions. the two of you dated for nearly four years, since he was a still a young teenager. he avoids you like the plague now, not even sparing you a glance whenever he does come across you.
you won't ever deny it, even if it's a shock for your pride, you miss him. you miss him and his stupid check-ups, him and his annoying pesters of "did you wash your hands?" you thought that he would be okay with remaining as friends, and he did agree to that, but now, it's like you don't even exist to him. to him, you do, but he just refuses to interact with you, his pride hurt and crushed, as for the first time, he's disturbed.
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#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu!! smut#haikyu x reader#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu angst#hq kuroo#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsurō#kuroo angst#hq oikawa#oikawa yandere#oikawa tooru#oikawa toru x reader#oikawa x reader#daichi smut#daichi x sugawara#daichi fluff#haikyuu daichi#hq daichi#hinata smut#hinata shouyou#hinata x reader#hinata shoyuo#hq akaashi#akaashi fluff#haikyuu akaashi#bokuto koutarou
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good enough.
Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x reader
Word count: 2,578
✎ Soulmate AU, Angst, Hurt comfort
You had always been a meek child. And it shocked everyone you would meet.
It had a lot to do with the fact that your parents were both extremely outgoing. They were loud, adventurous types who loved trying new things. It wasn't difficult to see how they were soulmates. They were practically cut from the same cloth. But you, you often made people lose the plot. You didn't act like your parents' daughter at all.
You had always been very shy. It had taken you forever to make friends in daycare, and even longer once you entered kindergarten. Kids were too loud and too messy. So you preferred to keep to yourself. The few friends you had were because someone else would take you 'under their wing' somehow.
You got better as you grew up, though you could still technically be considered an introvert. You hated that word. Hated how limiting it was and how it put you into a box. You weren't an introvert. You had friends that you loved hanging out with and spending time with. You didn't prefer being alone. You loved companionship.
You just didn't think you were interesting enough to deserve it.
So you stayed in your little circle of dedicated friends, girls you had met as a little kid and stuck by all through elementary and middle school. But towards the end of middle school, something happened that changed your life forever.
You met your soulmate.
Well, 'met' was a strong word. You saw him, from afar. You laid eyes on him, felt that electricity shoot up inside you, the mantra of 'soulmate, soulmate, soulmate' repeating in your head. It was the same pattern of feelings you were told your whole life that you would feel. Down to every last detail. Yet your brain couldn't accept it. You couldn't believe the obvious signals your body was sending you. It just couldn't be.
Your soulmate was…… Oikawa Tooru?
The Oikawa Tooru. Kitagawa Daiichi's star setter. The best player their school had seen so far. You had seen him while he was receiving the award for best setter. When your eyes had settled on him for more than 5 seconds, signaling to your body that you were looking directly at your soulmate. You were frozen in your spot, obscured in the crowd of students seated for the ceremony. Watching as Oikawa accepted his medal and his shield. The center of attention, the smile on his face bright and warm.
You in the bleachers, clapping mechanically, no different from anyone around you. Blending into your surroundings like you had your entire life.
It took you many, many weeks to get used to the idea that Oikawa Tooru was your soulmate. Your other half. It just didn't sit well with you. You had seen soulmate couples your entire life, including your parents. People with similar tastes, more or less matching personalities, so in love and so in sync.
You and Oikawa were worlds apart.
He had a gentle charm to him, easy going smile and bright, bright brown eyes, hair so casually wind swept, the color of warm chestnut. He was tall, lean, enough to command a room the second he entered it. It almost seemed like he had a spotlight on him at all times. As you watched him from afar, cracking jokes and laughing loud, annoying his friends and greeting his fans, you realized just how different you two were.
You were, in every sense of the word, average. You weren't confident, but you could speak your mind when you wanted. You weren't ugly, but you weren't exactly a head turner. You were so….. mediocre. Especially compared to someone as rare and wonderful as Oikawa Tooru. There's no way you could match up to him.
You didn't deserve him. And more importantly, he deserved so much better than you.
You never dared mention to anyone that you knew who your soulmate was. Your friends would hound you forever and your parents would be flabbergasted that you didn't tell him yet. You didn't have it in yourself to explain to them why you didn't. It made sense in your head, but you had enough awareness to know that other people would say it's utter bullshit. You didn't want to deal with that. Someday, Oikawa would give up on finding his soulmate and settle down with someone else. Someone who could fit into his shiny, busy world. All you had to do till then was stay out of the way. This was for Oikawa's own good.
You knew fate was testing you when you unintentionally ended up at the same high school as Oikawa. You had nearly done a double take when you saw him in the halls, talking to that spiky haired boy he was friends with, basking in the admiring looks of multiple girls that walked past him and waved at him. It made you sigh. It's like every time you saw him, you were reminded how much better he was than you. And all it did was strengthen your resolve to stay miles away from him.
You managed to successfully avoid Oikawa for many months, which wasn't hard considering your straightforward routine. You didn't like leaving class for no reason. You had lunch at your desk. You weren't part of any clubs so you would go straight home afterwards. Also owing to the fact that Oikawa appeared to be the busiest person in the world, it made your life much easier.
You should've known it wouldn't last long. It seemed the entire universe was conspiring to get you closer to Oikawa. And the universe had sent Matsukawa Issei to do the job.
Matsukawa was in the same class as you. He sat next to you in the back row and dosed off during most of the lessons. You thought he was incredibly amusing. Especially when he would sneak food into his mouth during classes and try to chew it without the teacher noticing that his mouth was moving. When you would try to hide your grin, he would wink at you and offer you food too, and both of you would munch on it while you waited for lessons to be over. He was very laid back and easy going, yet had a lot of confidence. In an ideal world where you weren't so anxious, you liked to think you would be a lot like him.
You never would've dreamed that someone so naturally lazy would actually be part of a sports club. Especially not volleyball. The thought never crossed your mind. Had you known, you wouldn't have touched him with a ten foot pole. But you made it a point to stay as far away from Oikawa and volleyball as possible, so you didn't know. Big mistake.
The midday sun was beating on your head as you stood waiting at the school gate. You tried leaning against the wall but the brick was burning up, making you yelp and jump away. You scowled at your phone, staring at Matsukawa's name before hitting Call. He picked up after only two beeps.
"Y/N-?"
"Where the hell are you, Issei? I'm getting cooked in this heat!" You whined, feeling your scowl deepen. You watched students bustle out of the gate, eager to get home and away from the sun. There was a short pause on the other end of the line before Matsukawa spoke again.
"Oh shit."
You groaned out loud at the words, knowing exactly what he meant.
"Issei, I need those notes! We have a quiz tomorrow and you promised me you would give them back after school."
You could hear Matsukawa panting on the other end, making your eyebrows furrow. Was he running?
"Listen, Y/N. I left my bag at the gym. The team is out on a run right now and I think we will be back in maybe ten minutes? Why don't you go wait at the gym and I'll give it to you when I come-"
"Wait," you cut him off. "What gym? What are you talking about?"
More huffing. "Oh yeah, you don't know. I'm in the volleyball club. Go wait for me at the gym."
You stilled, blinking once, before the implication of his words sank in and panic gripped your chest. "No, no, wait! I can't go there. I'll wait for you at the gate and you can just come give it to me-"
"Coach won't let me leave the gym during practice time. What's the big deal? It'll take two minutes-"
"No Issei!" You cut him off, feeling cornered. "Keep the notebook. I'll get it from you tomorrow."
"But what about the qui-"
You hung up.
Your heart was beating a mile a minute, thoughts racing. That was so close. So close. You had unintentionally become friends with Oikawa's teammate. And you had no clue. Panic gripped you as you realized what this meant. At any given time, Oikawa could've seen you. He could've walked into your classroom to talk to Issei about something and laid eyes on you. Then he would've known.
The walk home was shaky and disorienting. You felt frustrated with yourself at this game you were playing. Trying to stay away from the boy this universe was begging you to be with. Someone your heart also desperately wanted, but your insecure, anxious brain was constantly yelling at you to stay away from.
He's too good. His future is too bright. You'll ruin him.
You were so tired.
The quiz ended up being pretty easy, considering the fact that you didn't study for it at all and spent most of your evening crying, then watching some shitty comedy on Netflix that didn't make you laugh at all, going through your snack drawer like an madwoman and finally falling asleep, where brown eyes plagued you in your dreams for the rest of the night. You thanked the gods that you had nothing good to do in your life and hence spent most of your time studying. It meant you did pretty well on your test despite doing nothing to prepare for it.
If there was one thing about you that was way above average, it was your brain.
Issei was looking at you weirdly throughout the day, and he finally spoke up at lunch, something you had been dreading.
"You wanna tell me what the hell that was yesterday?" He crossed his arms, staring at you so hard you were afraid he could take a peek into your soul.
"What the hell was what." You deadpanned, avoiding his gaze.
"Don't be daft. You nearly had a panic attack when I told you to come meet me at the volleyball gym."
You cringed at the word 'volleyball', sighing deeply. "I just didn't want to make the extra trip, it was really hot outside-"
You stopped talking when Matsukawa abruptly sat up, eyes narrowed at you. "You're bullshitting me. Tell me the truth."
You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I am telling you the-"
"I'll drag the entire volleyball team here if I have to." He drawled, a challenge in his voice. "You freaked me out yesterday. And it has something to do with my club. So tell me, or I'll find out somehow."
You felt your heart race. Dammit. You couldn't think of anything else. You couldn't think of a lie to placate him. And as you stared into his dark eyes, you knew you had lost.
Matsukawa Issei became the first person to know who your soulmate was.
He had dragged you out of the class after lunch break. There had been too much to unpack in that short amount of time. You hid behind the school overlooking the grounds, telling Matsukawa everything, like word vomit that you couldn't stop. You realized as you talked just how desperate you were to tell someone about all this. You had kept it in for so long that just saying it all out loud seemed to lighten your load.
A thick blanket of silence fell on you two when you finished, nearly out of breath. You watched Matsukawa intently as he stared out at the grounds, one leg pulled up to his torso and resting his arm on his knee. He sighed heavily, running a hand across his face.
"For someone who gets the best grades in our class, you have got to be the dumbest person I have ever met."
You blinked at his words, shocked. "Huh?"
He scowled deeply at you, shocking you even more. He looked almost angry.
"You think you know better than the universe? You think you're smarter than fate?" He raised his voice, looking pissed. "How can you think the gods were wrong when they paired you with Oikawa? And to make this huge decision, without even considering how Oikawa might feel-"
"How dare you." Your voice trembled, feeling tears prick at your lash line. "All I did was consider how Oikawa might feel. I put my own feelings aside-"
"What the hell makes you think this is what Oikawa wants?" Matsukawa raised his voice even more, nearly swelling up in frustration. "You don't know him. You don't know if he wants you. You can't make this decision for him!"
You reeled at his words, blinking your tears away furiously. What the hell was Issei implying? That Oikawa could actually make any alternative choice? It couldn't be. Why would he want you?
Issei's face was softening, watching the emotions flit over your face.
"Y/N," he continued. "You're my friend. I'd like to think I know you. And from what I've seen, I guarantee you that there is not one thing about you that Oikawa won't like."
"But I-" You drew in a trembling breath. "We're so different."
Issei snorted and shrugged. "Trust me, he needs that. Or his head would get too big for his own body to carry."
You two stayed silent for a bit, letting Issei's words wash over you like a cold shower after a hot day. Your heart was screaming at you to believe him, but your mind wouldn't let up. You heard him sigh and stand up, stretching his arms above his head. How long had you been out here anyway? It felt like hours. Was school over? What time was it?
"Alright, let's go." You snapped out of your thoughts at his words, blinking owlishly up at him.
"Go where?"
He didn't answer, waving your question off like he was swatting a fly before he grabbed your arm and pulled you up to your feet, not giving you a moment to breathe as he led you away.
"Issei-"
"Shut up. I've heard enough outta you." He didn't look back at you. You felt a sting of indignation, falling into silence and letting him drag you. You felt so burnt out.
You only tuned back into the present when you heard the squeaks and thuds on hardwood floors, tensing up when Issei climbed the three small stairs leading to the open volleyball gym doors. He tugged your arm when he realized you had stopped, turning to look at you. He gave you a soft look, almost pleading.
"He deserves this. Please."
You felt your shoulders slump in acceptance, mind stilling and slowing in its tirade of thoughts. With one last deep breath, you stepped inside.
Let me know what you think!
#haikyuu#oikawa tooru#oikawa tooru x reader#Oikawa x reader#oikawa toru x reader#oikawa tooru fanfiction#haikyuu fanfiction#oikawa tooru angst#oikawa soulmate au#soulmate au#oikawa x y/n#haikyuu oikawa#oikawa tōru#oikawa headcanons#oikawa fluff#Oikawa one shot
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[4:38 PM] Oikawa Toru [1]
I know someone asked for my old Oikawa work - I need to find them first lol and for sure edit them. But here's my first Oikawa story on my new account, enjoy!
Warning: None (yet); slight angst about Oikawa's situation and what he did in the past to Y/n;
Second part
.
Oikawa Toru was exhausted. He has been exhausted for the past six months.
The baby nestled against his chest made it all worthwhile.
His son, Oikawa Toran Mateo.
The relocation from Argentina to Japan posed challenges for both father and son; now, it was simply a matter of settling in.
Mateo was having difficulty at night, and Toru couldn’t understand what was wrong. Then, when bedtime arrived, Mateo would cry incessantly, eventually wearing himself out until he fell asleep, utterly exhausted.
Until a miracle happened on day three of their new life in Japan.
Toru didn’t make a single sound as he continued to rock Mateo against his chest, the baby was silent, but his eyes were slowly drooping close.
This was all due to their only neighbor next door, who either blasted deafening piano music to muffle his son’s cries or happened to have a piano positioned against the shared wall, providing them with a live concert.
Initially, he suspected it might be a recording. Still, whenever the piano ceased playing, Mateo would stir and start whimpering, prompting the piano to resume and soothing the baby to sleep.
That’s when Toru realized his neighbor was attentively listening.
He felt guilty that his son’s relentless crying would unknowingly disturb the neighbor next door. However, it never occurred to him that the sound could travel through walls.
Meanwhile, Toru found peace in listening; it was when he discerned the neighbor was playing their rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
Several minutes later, Mateo peacefully drifted into a deep slumber against his father’s chest, and Toru let out a profound sigh, gently swaying back and forth. In that moment, he made a firm resolution to express his gratitude to the neighbor whenever the opportunity came.
The tune continued and put Mateo to sleep and lulled Toru to sleep.
Just going to close my eyes briefly, he thought as he gently laid down on the bed and shifted his son in his arm.
.
Three weeks later, Toru hasn’t gotten the opportunity to head next door to meet his neighbor.
Ever since that night, his neighbor would spend hours playing the piano every evening when Toru attempted to take Mateo to bed. But, remarkably, Mateo adored it. The melodic tunes would instantly soothe him, gradually lulling him into a peaceful slumber.
Whatever it was, it proved to be the sole remedy for his son.
However, one particular night, the absence of the piano’s melody left Mateo restless and irritable. In a desperate attempt to recreate the soothing effect, Toru resorted to playing classic piano pieces he hastily found on YouTube, but they failed to satisfy Mateo’s needs.
Growing frustrated and feeling helpless, Toru was on the brink of allowing his son to cry himself to sleep when a gentle miracle, the soft piano notes began resonating through the walls. Instantly, Mateo’s cries subsided, and Toru lay awake, basking in the comforting melody.
Toru is convinced his neighbor is a gift from God.
.
His mother would stop by every day to help with his son while Toru organized transferring his items from Argentina to Japan.
“Can you stay with Teo while I pick up dinner, mom?”
She hummed, shooing him away.
Toru is grateful to his mother for her unwavering love for his son, despite her initial disappointment upon learning about this accidental pregnancy with his ex-girlfriend from Argentina.
Although his relationship with his ex-girlfriend was long gone and relegated to the past, every day served as a reminder that it was just him and his son, which was more than enough.
The elevator chimes rang out, and within moments, the door slid open, unveiling a petite woman who leaned against the wall, her eyes closed. Immersed in her own world, she appeared lost in the music flowing through the electronic devices plugged into her ears.
She took a step forward without opening her eyes, and it wasn’t the second step when they opened, and she stopped, startled by another person waiting outside the elevator.
Toru found himself somewhat amused, assuming the woman hadn’t noticed his presence until the very last moment. However, as he took a closer look, his eyebrow raised in curiosity, and suddenly, his eyes widened in recognition, realizing who she was.
“Y/n?” He smiled brightly, “are you – are you my neighbor?”
There were only two units on the 25th floor; if he occupied one, she must be the other occupant.
Now…
It all made sense.
A few nights ago, he talked to Mateo as they enjoyed their nightly routine of waiting for their nice neighbor.
“Any second now,” Toru coos at Mateo, who is excited and waiting.
As the keys of the piano resonated with the melody, Toru yearned for a way to create a window connecting to their units, allowing the enchanting piano sounds to flow more clearly between them.
And so they can greet their neighbor.
Nonetheless, it was still clear enough.
Mateo flapped his chubby arms excitedly and began blowing bubbles. Toru smiles at his son lovingly until his ears finally listen to the piece played tonight, which differs from the other nights.
The smile on his face faded, and his attention sharpened as he focused his ears intently. The familiarity of the piece struck a cord within him. He had heard it before and knew it well.
Y/n…
That was it!
That was Y/n’s piece she always played for him when he would study at her house!
He never got the chance to ask her for the name.
How long has it been since he last seen her?
Over ten years?
The sweet girl who stutter all her life.
The sweet girl was often self-conscience about speaking, going silent to avoid being teased. Finally, however, she discovered her voice in a different form, expressing herself eloquently through the keys of her piano.
The sweet girl who was expected to become a future pianist.
The sweet girl would play the piano for him so he could focus and study.
The sweet girl who had a crush on him during Aoba Josei’s days.
The sweet girl whom he took advantage of to get his grades up so he could graduate on time.
The sweet girl he took a bet on to see if he could make her fall for him.
His last memory of her was saying he was sorry for being caught.
And she only smiled and walked away.
“To… Toru?” She stuttered; eyes still filled with shock.
Toru gives her a soft smile, “hey, yeah, it’s me…”
The door began to close when they both reached out to stop it from closing. Y/n quickly hops out of the elevator.
“You’re… you live there?” she pointed to his door, “you… you have a ba – baby?”
“I… yes, I live there, and I do… it’s just my son, and I thought…” he wasn’t sure why he had to explain himself, but he did anyway. “Are you… living by yourself there?”
She nodded, taking off her earbuds. “I – I should get… going… it is ni – nice to see yo – you again.”
Toru stopped her, grabbing her elbow but quickly releasing his grip when he realized his action. “Sorry, I… I’m happy to run into you again. I’m really thankful for you…” he searched her eyes, “my son, Mateo, and I are thankful to you every night for playing for us – “
“I don’t play for you.” She said clearly, and Toru flinched at her tone. She spoke so clearly that he was shocked.
“Ah,” he rubbed the back of his head, “we are still grateful… it helps my son sleep….” He smiled, “I should get going; it is nice running into you.”
Y/n nodded again, giving him a small smile before disappearing into her unit.
.
.
Ever since uncovering the identity of his neighbor, Toru couldn’t shake off the lingering ache in his heart.
Following their most recent encounter, Toru had expected his neighbor to refrain from playing the piano. However, to his surprise, she continued playing beautiful melodies.
He was an asshole years ago and was genuinely sorry for hurting her.
He wanted to atone for what he did to her and make it right.
He wanted to see her again.
And he did.
She was waiting for the elevator first when Toru and Mateo returned home from a walk. She didn’t notice them until Mateo began to fuss in the stroller, and she looked over, and her eyes met Toru’s before they shifted to Mateo.
“Hey.” Toru greeted, picking Mateo up from his stroller, which immediately calmed down when he was in his father’s arms. “This is Mateo.”
He could see her expression soften as she hesitated but stepped forward to look at the baby closer. “Hi… Mateo.”
It only took one interaction and one look for the baby to be smitten. Mateo squirmed and smiled brightly, burying his face into his father’s chest as if he was shy all of a sudden. He lifted his head as soon as Y/n stepped back and just blinked.
“How old is he?” She asked quietly.
Toru shifts his grip on his son, “he’s six months turning seven months next week.”
Y/n nodded, keeping her eyes on the baby. “He – he is very cute, looks just like you.”
“Thanks, Y/n.”
The door to the elevator opened, and she gestured for Toru to go in first.
The elevator ride was silent, with Mateo constantly staring in Y/n direction while suckling his pacifier.
“Thank you.” Toru uttered out of the blue, “for playing every night…”
Y/n doesn’t respond but smiles at Mateo, reaching to wiggle her fingers at the baby.
Mateo grabs her fingers in a tight death grip and then leans toward her as if he wants her to hold him. Unfortunately, Y/n had no choice as he leaned over suddenly, and she plucked him from his father’s arm.
“Uh, I guess he likes – “
The elevator abruptly stopped, causing Y/n and Mateo to stumble, but Toru caught them both. His arms wrapped securely around him as he regained their balance. The lights turned off briefly before the dim emergency lights turned on.
Mateo spat out his pacifier and began to whimper.
“Oh! It’s okay; it’s okay.” Y/n cooed, gently rocking the baby. She looked at Toru, who was looking at his phone and dialing for help.
A voice over the intercom immediately announced, “we deeply apologize – the construction next door has caused a power outage within the vicinity. We are working diligently to restore power and immediately send assistance your way.”
Toru and Y/n locked eyes, their silence speaking volumes as they exchanged a shared sigh.
Toru knelt and began to fumble with the basket attached to the stroller.
“What are you looking for?” Y/n asked.
He stopped to look up at her, “just checking to see how much formula Mateo has left; not sure how long we’ll be stuck in the elevator.”
Speaking of the baby, Y/n looked down and discovered the baby was fast asleep against her chest. She wraps his blanket around him before shifting him into her arms.
“You’re really… good with kids…” Toru remembers when Y/n would play with his nephew Takeru when she would come over to help him study. Takeru found liking in Y/n and would ask about her whereabouts whenever he saw his uncle. “Do… you want me to take him? I can put him back in the stroller?”
Y/n shook her head, “not if we don’t know how secure this elevator is; it’s best to hold him for now.” She carefully shifted, passing the slumbering baby back into his father’s waiting arms. Almost instantly, as if sensing the change, Mateo started to wiggle and emit soft whimpers.
As Toru struggled to console his son, the situation seemed to escalate. Finally, Y/n extended a gentle hand, reaching over to tenderly retrieve the baby while soothingly cooing and whispering sweet words. Mateo’s distress dissipated almost instantly, and he surrendered again to sleep. His tiny, chubby hand tightly clenched onto Y/n’s shirt, finding solace in her presence.
Toru believed he knew his son, having been there for him since birth. Yet, it became evident that Y/n, a stranger to his son, possessed a unique ability to provide peace and comfort that surpassed Toru’s efforts.
It wasn’t jealousy he felt but warmth.
.
.
.
E/n: nothing edited (as always). This might be another roller coaster...
>>>@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu oikawa#haikyuu oikawa toru#haikyuu oikawa tooru#oikawa fluff#oikawa x reader#oikawa smut#oikawa tooru#oikawa x y/n#oikawa x you#oikawa imagine#oikawa torū#oikawa angst#oikawa toru x you#oikawa toru x reader#oikawa toru smut#oikawa fic#haikyuu smut#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu!!#fanfic#oikawa fanfiction
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彡 A MASSIVE PILE OF GUILT
☆. contains: tooru oikawa x gn!reader; this is called angst i think (with comfort), reader plays volleyball and oikawa comforts them after they lost a match, reader talks badly about themselves:( i'm sorry, they swear they're just really really good friends but they're also just fucking stupid wc: 4k
in the blink of an eye the loud screams and cheers transform into a disgusting mix of muffled noises in your ears. the lights are too bright and you feel like you're stuck to the ground; stuck under hundreds pairs of eyes. you can't move, you can't breathe. your arm stings, a painfully clear reminder of your fuckup.
you should've had it, you saw it coming, you had a plan and yet - here you are, watching the colorfol ball hit the wall of the big arena with a quiet thud!. your eye twitches, locked onto the missed oppurtunity in a form a sphere sit metres away from you and your teammates.
because of you.
like a statue; turned into stone, you stand in your awkward position, unable to comprehend that it's over. that it's really over. it feels like everybody is looking at you, cursing you in their own heads. is this what drowning feels like? even if you could open your mouth to try and save yourself with a big breath of air, the stifling stench of losing would surely just make you choke harder.
a palm slaps onto your shoulder and you don't have to look at the person to know who it is – a dejected captain trying to pick up their loved teammates. you can't look at them; how could you? they're trying to cheer you up while you're the sole reason you lost in the first place. they give you a squeeze, a silent plea for you to snap out of it and you comply, not wanting to humiliate them any more.
you did well!
an arm around your shoulder, you're being dragged away from the court and you taste blood – the result of biting into the soft skin of your inner cheek in order to surpress a cry. the lights are too bright and you just want out.
after the handshakes and the formalities are done, your coach gives you all a pep talk. not that it helps but what else is there to say right now. you eat in almost complete silence; the only sounds in your ears being the chewing and the crying.
you've yet to do that. your lip wobbles and your eyes are red but so far, no tears. but you know you will – it'll be the only thing you'll be doing after you've locked yourself away into your room.
good game!
you feel sick. the food in your mouth is starting to taste like vomit and the water isn't helping either. still, you refuse to stop. refuse to raise your eyes from your table to ask whether you can leave. you will sit there as long as the others do and you won't complain. you will eat the food just like the others do and you won't complain. you don't get to do that.
the hugs feel just as suffocating as the eyes. you've never felt this bad in your whole entire life. you feel bad for thinking that the hugs feel suffocating – they're literally trying to comfort you and you're blatantly refusing it. stupid. stupid. stupid.
everyone has their own things they do after a loss. some like to be alone, some like to go for a run, some like to beat the fuck out of a punch bag and some like to do watch a comedy film with their teammates. it's silly; none of them laugh during it anyway. but it helps. you know it does because you've done it with them – not this time though. and they don't pressure you; they're not stupid, they understand how it feels. you need a moment and they will give it to you.
your captain does sit you down for a second before letting you go though, calmly telling you how it wasn't your fault and how you'll get it next time. and it sucks. it sucks that you don't hear it... it sucks that nothing will make this feeling go away. you know it and your captain knows it.
their warm hand resting on your back does soothe the shivers that have been tormenting you ever since you lost the ball. and for the first time since that moment, you crane your neck, raising your heavy head to meet their eyes and now you do feel like crying. the sadness is there, but so is the same warmth, the same adoration one has for their loved ones. nobody is upset with you, nobody blames you. their hand rises from your back and goes up to ruffle your hair as you let your head fall against their chest. "you're okay."
they hold you close as your tears soak their shirt. you hear a loud sigh and you know they're holding back theirs. the shivers are back and you hiccup out a broken i'm sorry, which makes the captain pull away immediately and grab your shoulders.
"don't. it wasn't your fault. it wasn't. you can cry as much as you want but that? you're not allowed to do that." there's a certain determination in their glassy eyes and you have no other choice but to weakly nod your head before letting it fall again.
"by the way, i saw you not eat properly, so i'm keeping an extra eye on you tomorrow morning, okay?" they poke your cheek and you're thankful. "i'm gonna watch the movie with the others but i'm keeping my phone close by, so if you want company at any time, just let me know."
you raise your head back up, desperate to show your appreciation for them and nod again, cracking the world's smallest and saddest smile and they ruffle your hair again before standing up. "you're okay."
they close the door behind them and you take a minute to compose yourself. you can't seem to stop your hands from shaking though and it makes you angry. your now empty room is too quiet and your own reflection in the window is taunting you with an ugly expression. is that really how you look like right now?
you don't wanna know and you don't want to keep looking at it either. so you grab your hoodie and your wallet and make your way to the lobby of the hotel. maybe the reflection in the vending machine won't be so mean.
and it isn't. it's not mean at all. it's the exact opposite actually. from the fact that it's staring at you with rather soft eyes to the fact that it's not your own reflection.
"good game, right?" you scare yourself with your own voice – already so harsh and raspy. it comes out mean and you wince. you tear your eyes from his, focusing on the sweet drink that's locked behind the glass instead.
oikawa is never this quiet and it makes you want to hit him. make a joke. just do it. just do it already. but he doesn't. his steps are quiet as he goes to lean on the vending machine. he's nothing if not observant; he sees your shaky hands pressing the buttons with so much effort; how the lips that are usually pulled into a beautiful grin he loves so much are now wobbling, ready to spill all of your sorrows. your clenched jaw as you try to avoid his gaze for whatever reason.
please, look at me.
the vending machine dings as the mechanics push your drink to you. his eyes are unforgiving and you know he means well. you know he's not gonna make fun of you, he's not gonna tease you – not now. but you still feel ashamed, whether he says the joke or not; the joke has already been made and it's right here, standing in front of a stupid pink vending machine.
your head shakes on it's own, casting shame on yourself on it's own. the drink falls with a loud thud! but before you can kneel down to get it, a hand on your wrist stops you.
his hand is so warm and it's unusual, considering he tends to be cold almost always. he doesn't push you and let's you take a deep breath before you raise your eyes to his.
if his heart wasn't shattered before, it sure is now. your eyes are red and glassy, but mostly tired, so tired. there's no glint in them, dull and sad. his hand slips from your wrist to your palm, intertwining his fingers with yours. "you did well."
your head falls back as you choke out a broken laugh. "oh, fuck off. i don't wanna fucking hear that. it makes me sick." staring at the ceiling, you shake your head again as if to rid of the words from your mind.
oikawa feels useless. he's been in your situation and yet, he can't think of anything good to say. he remembers how much he hated whenever people said that to him after their loss to karosuno. he tries to swallow the lump in his throat; everything he comes up with just makes him feel even more sick. he wants to cry because he doesn't know how to comfort you. how to make it all better.
"do you want me to stay with you?"
that's the best he can come up with. maybe just his presence will be enough when his words clearly aren't. but when you shake your head again, his heart sinks.
"that's alright. let's uh– ... tomorrow, yeah?" bringing your eyes down from the ceiling, you try to give him a reassuring smile that says i'm fine but it obviously doesn't work. you see the hurt in his eyes and you just feel bad. you feel bad for everything. you're upsetting people even off the court. you just can't help it can you?
"i'm good. i just need to be alone right now." you try again, squeezing his hand. his mouth opens but another voice cuts him off.
"oikawa!"
from around the corners emerges an angry looking iwaizumi. "here you fucking are. coach said it's bed time—"
when his eyes travel from his troublesome best friend over to yours, he swallows his words in an instant. you see the remorse wash over his face and you kind of want to laugh. it's all too funny in a fucked up way. "sorry for interrupting. hey, that was a really goo—"
good game!
he stops himself. fuck. what do you say in this situation?
"good game, i know. maybe next time it'll be a great one, hm?" the bitterness just oozes out of you without your consent, making iwaizumi wince. you feel bad.
pulling your hand from oikawa's, you kneel down to finally grab your nearly forgotten drink. "it's okay, really. i know what you mean."
another weak smile. a pathetic one. "see you at breakfast, yeah?"
oikawa shoving iwaizumi is the last thing you see as you're making your way back to your room. your hands still haven't stopped shaking and opening the door is so fucking hard. the key card slips from between your fingers—
breathe... in...
and out...
you kneel down and pick it up in slow motion as you're tunnel visioning on just getting inside the room. you hear the click! and you burst in, slamming the door shut. the ugly reflection is back and it's laughing at you and you can't do it anymore. your knees buckle from under you, hitting the soft carpeted floor as you weep. hunched over, you just look like a big pile of guilt.
clutching at your heart through your shirt, you cry and you cry, taking in raggedy breaths just to let out pathetic little sounds. everything hurts – your knees, your arms, your head, your eyes, your fingers, your legs, your inner cheek. you pretty much crawl to the bathroom, grabbing a handful of tissues before plopping right back down onto the floor. your nose hurts, too.
for almost an hour – you don't move from your spot, rooted and rotting into the carpet. it's pathetic. you think about how the others are watching the movie, shedding tears quietly but together, nonetheless. sick of your own actions, you push yourself up and change your clothes. you even manage to drink some water and wash your face in this half-alive state of being. a+ for effort, huh?
you bury yourself under the blanket, wishing the bed would swallow you whole instead. the tears have returned and you feel the pillow getting wetter and wetter by the second. you don't have it in you to grab another tissue though, letting the feeling of the soaked material remind you of your fuckup.
a floor and a few rooms away, oikawa can't stop pacing around. "but they said they didn't want me to go with them...."
"have you ever considered that people lie, idiot?" a tired iwaizumi replies from underneath his blanket on the bed. "especially in a situation like this. it's not like you were any better, you know."
oikawa just glares at him, although it's very hard for iwaizumi to take him seriously when he's wearing his matching plaid pj set. "but what if they get upset that i didn't listen to them?"
"but don't you wanna go and comfort them?" iwaizumi questions harshly. "don't you wanna be there for them? is your fear of overstepping more important than their well-being right now?"
oikawa thinks of your tired, sad eyes and his fingers twitch. "no."
"obviously, dick. go on, then. you have to be back for breakfast though or i'll punch you." iwaizumi states before turning away from his friend and disappearing completely under the blanket.
"you're so mean, iwa... can you not threathen to punch me every two seconds? i'm trying to be so good." oikawa mutters with a pout, grabbing his phone and his hoodie, ready to be your knight in shining armor. knight in plaid pyjamas more like.
"just go already." his friend grumbles and oikawa gifts him a small bye-bye as he's already halfway out the door. the next thing he knows, he's sprinting through the hallways, thanking himself in his head for making you tell him your room number the second he saw you this morning. he doesn't even take the elevator, instead taking triple steps up the stairs. he's also thanking himself for becoming an athlete.
knock! knock! knock!
dismissing that as just a noise from the room next door, you continue your sniffling but when the knocks repeat in a faster manner, you figure one of your teammates had forgotten their key card. so, ever so slowly you push yourself from the comfort of your bed and head over to the door while trying to wipe the tears from your eyes as to look at least a little bit more composed. you're even ready to crack a joke about them losing the card, desperate to disctract the person behind the door from yourself.
but it's not any of your teammates, nor is it your manager of your coach.
it's your oikawa instead – eyes wide open and slightly panting. "you said you don't want me here but i– fuck, how many steps can be between one floor..." he clutches his hand over his chest, the stupid comment slipping out all on its own.
for a millisecond, for a fraction of time, the corners of your lips turn upward but they fall just as fast back down, leaving you both just standing there, staring at each other.
your eyes look way worse now; way more red, way more tired, way more sad, way more dull than a mere hour ago. he should've come here sooner and he imagines iwaizumi slapping the back of his head for his mistake.
"you said you wanna be alone but i don't care."
his blunt statement catches you a little off-guard, your eyebrows furrowing but oikawa just takes it as a green light. if you didn't want him there, surely you'd tell him that right away but you've been standing here with him for a almost half a minute and nothing.
he takes a step, closing the distance between the two of you. he pushes his glasses up on his nose and fiddles with his own fingers and it's weird again. he's nervous. but this isn't about him – it's about you. whatever he's feeling right now is nothing compared to what you're feeling and he just wants to be here for you.
for a second time today, he watches your bottom lip wobble and your chest rise as you take short sharp breaths. and for a second time today, a pair of eyes feel actually comforting. he's not trying to burn you, he's not trying to take back time and alter your actions. he's merely observing instead of dissecting. he's ready to catch you when you fall.
and you do. it's hard not to when he's standing in front of you and looking at you so fondly. your head falls against his strong chest, hands tucked between your bodies as his firmly wrap around you. he takes another step inside and closes the door behind him with his foot.
he listens to you cry into him, he feels your tears on his shirt and through it, on his skin. your hands grasp onto the material, bunching it up in your fists and he just holds you tighter against him.
"you're gonna win next time, i promise" he murmurs.
but when you just sob out a but i wanted to win this time, his heart aches so bad he thinks he's going to die.
oikawa curses at himself for walking right into that one and this time he swears he feels iwaizumi slap the back of his head for real. but he has no time to pity his poor choice of words when he feels your hands clutching at him just where his heart is.
he whispers a quiet i know and you sniffle again. he starts drawing soothing circles onto your back with his palm and he feels so warm. releasing his shirt from your hold, you snake your hands around his body instead, burrowing your face even more into his chest and you faintly hear him coo. it's the first time ever that he's done it in a genuine way and it's the first time you haven't felt the need to punch him for it.
his hand rests on the back of your head, keeping you in your place as he gently sways the both of you from side to side. "i got you."
after some time, he feels you going slack against him and decides to guide you to the bed. he climbs in with you and safely tucks you into the crook of his neck and lets you cry some more as he whispers it's okay against your temple. he just hopes that he's actually helping, that his words actually have an effect. god, he hopes he's making it at least a bit better for you.
he is. he's doing more than he could ever imagine. the thick goo of guilt and shame seems to be draining out of you when you feel his lips brush against your skin. he just might be washing the it off of you with his quiet praise. his words don't sound condescending nor do they sound fake. he means it when he says that you really did do well.
the tears have dried by now and oikawa can feel your eyelashes fluttering against his neck. the long tiring day is finally catching up to you as your breathing slows. he rests his head on top of yours and presses your body indifinitely closer to his. the tips of his fingers dance across your skin, drawing little circles and hearts as he soaks in the sight of you relaxing against him under the moonlight.
"did..."
your meek voice makes him crane his neck back so he can look at you better, ready to hear out whatever complaint you have, ready to comply to whatever request you have.
"did iwaizumi send you?"
...
"WHAT?" it comes out way louder and in a way higher pitch than he'd intended it to. he immediately clears his throat but his eyebrows are still furrowed. "i wanted to come here, why would you say that..."
he still can't see your face clearly from this angle but the way your body moves, is telling him that this isn't you crying anymore. this is you laughing.
"are you– are you fucking laughing at me right now?" he questions, trying to pry you from his neck to confirm his suspicion. and he's fucking right. when you finally unlatch yourself from his body and roll onto your back, you have the tiniest, smallest smile on your lips and oikawa's mouth falls slack. "i wanted to come! i– i'm a good friend!"
it shouldn't be this funny. it really shouldn't because he is a good friend, isn't he? he's here now, holding you, comforting you; he came to you and you're now making fun of him. but you can't help it, the thought of iwaizumi "lecturing" him is silly in this moment. not that you doubt that he came here only because of that, of course. but knowing him, you just think he probably needed a push to actually do it.
oikawa holds himself up above you, observing the small freckles that adorn your face. your eyes are still red and still tired but... the small little glint is back. the same one that's always there when you make fun of him. or when you laugh.
"i literally ran here and this is how you treat me?"
"you're telling me it took you an hour to run up the stairs? i thought you were a volleyball player, shouldn't your stamina be better–" you poke at his chest (right where his heart is) and he lets out a very loud and a very dramatic gasp. "or did your boyfriend have to convince you to come over and console me?"
oikawa's lips tilt into a smirk, happy to hear you barking at him at last. "first of all, don't ever call him my boyfriend ever again–" he situates himself next to you, so his both hands are free. you should've seen this coming, too. "and second of all, you really oughta treat me better."
before you can taunt him with a good old "or what?", his hands are tickling your sides, fingers dancing along your skin as laughter bubbles up from your throat. you try to fight him off, hands clutching onto his in order to stop his torment but to no avail.
"i am... trying... to be.... a good... friend... and this is... what i get... huh..." he rasps as he continues soaking in the sound of your laughter.
"you're.... always... in it for something... that's not... a... real friend... tooru..." you breathe back with a grin and he stops. he doesn't take his hands off of you though, just resting them on your waist.
"you're spending way too much time with iwaizumi, you're both just so mean to me." he's pouting. oikawa is sitting back on his legs and he's actually pouting.
"am i gonna have to console you now?"
"yes." he deadpans.
...
you push yourself up onto your elbow and lean up to boop his nose. "you're stupid."
"no, you're stupid." he grins back.
he has his ways of getting you out of a slump, he always has. him sitting here on your tiny little bed, pouting and laughing is only merely of them. you couldn't wish for a better friend. his hands feel so warm on you and you're so grateful. sitting up, you slap your hands on his shoulders (which of course, makes him wince in a very over the top way). "thanks for coming, tooru."
he rolls his eyes. "pffft."
...
pfft?
"excuse me?" you glare at him and he decides that you and iwaizumi can never hang out ever again.
"i– i meant– yeah, of course. anything for you." he stutters out as you keep glaring at him. he then leans in closer, so much so that your noses are almost touching. "i'm really proud of you, you know."
heat crawls up from your neck and you feel the tips of your ears warm up, overwhelmed by the sudden genuine praise. but you can't let him have the upper hand. not now, not ever. he'll never let you live it down.
"your breath stinks, you know."
his eyes close with another incredibly dramatic sigh as he rests his forehead against yours but while doing so, he takes notice of your hot skin and the way you giggle, and translates it into your language –
thank you.
#everybody say hi oikawa welcome to loserville oikawa#it was gloomy outside so i ofc had to cook up some sad shit smh#first time for oikawa so yk as usual i am very nervous#is he too soft here#idk#it is what it is#wtf mickey can write#oikawa#oikawa tooru#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa tooru fanfic#oikawa tooru imagines#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#hq oikawa#haikyuu oikawa#haikyuu fanfic#tooru oikawa#tooru oikawa x reader#hq x gn!reader#oikawa x reader#oikawa x you#oikawa fluff#oikawa drabble#oikawa angst
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