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seijorhi · 2 years

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Beg, Borrow & Steal

Mattsun & Oikawa Soulmate Commission for a lovely nonnie <33 Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Matsukawa Issei x female reader w.c 6.7k tw: noncon, smut, nsfw, forced infidelity, general yandere themes

The first time it happens, it’s a miracle. The world flips and colour – the glistening ocean lapping at your heels, the bright blue sky, the green of your best friend’s two piece – bursts across your vision, stealing your breath away.

Twenty yards down the shore, similarly moonstruck, your soulmate gapes back at you – at least until the next wave comes, knocking into him and sweeping him right off his feet.

The second time ‘round, it feels more like a hurricane.

In the space of a heartbeat, the life you’ve lovingly built brick by brick is ripped apart, right down to its very foundations.

—

“They’re gonna love you, will you please stop worrying?” he laughs, and you can’t help the warmth that floods your cheeks.

“I know it’s stupid. I know, but–”

Smiling – perfect, beautiful – Tooru pulls you into his arms. Takes a moment to admire your face. “Iwa already thinks you’re too good for me, Makki and Mattsun’ll like you just fine.”

He’s joking about the first part.

You’d been introduced to Tooru’s best and oldest friend only a few months after meeting, and had been pleasantly surprised at how well you’d gotten along with his ex-teammate. There’s no reason for your stomach to be fluttering the way that it is. You’re Tooru’s soulmate, you love him with everything you have. Whether or not they like you as a person, surely they’ll be able to appreciate that much.

You don’t need them to love you or anything so dramatic, you just don’t want them to hate you.

Initially, the plan was for the three of them – Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa – to meet you both at the airport, after over a full day’s worth of travelling, though, you managed to beg a nap and a long, hot shower from your boyfriend first.

Instead, the plan is now to meet them downtown for drinks, followed by dinner at some semi-famous hole in the wall ramen joint that Iwa and Makki, both having found a home in the bustling city, apparently swear by. Low key, casual, easy.

“Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?” Slowly, his gaze dips, surveying the little red number you’ve chosen for the night. A grin that’s not entirely innocent teases at his lips. “I love that dress on you.”

Oh, you’re well aware.

Tooru was the one to buy it for you. Truthfully, you’ve always thought that the drab hue washes you out, yet whenever you wear it you’re rewarded with that slack jawed, smouldering expression that never fails to make your knees just a little weak.

It’s one hell of a confidence booster.

“Huh, I had no idea,” you cheekily reply, stretching up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips with a grin of your own.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs a half hearted “Tease,” when you part, but laces his fingers back through yours all the same. Squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You know, it used to be an old tradition of ours. Ramen, I mean,” he elaborates at your confused expression. “I don’t even remember who started it, but whenever we lost a game, we’d go out for ramen and eat and eat and eat until we were ready to burst.”

He chuckles fondly at the memory, and it seems an odd thing to you.

Then again, Tooru’s always had somewhat of an interesting relationship with defeat, that he’d continue to enjoy a food inextricably linked to that probably shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“What about when you won?”

“Milk bread.” He says it with such solemnity that it takes you a second to realise he’s joking. You giggle, and Tooru’s thumb sweeps along the back of your palm, a pleased twinkle dancing in ash eyes.

Lapsing into conversation over old volleyball habits and traditions, the two of you arrive at the bar in no time at all. Iwa’s settled into a booth up the back, another man, one you recognise from pictures of Tooru’s high school days, making his way over to the table with a bottle of sake and glasses in hand.

“Ahh, the famous soulmate,” he grins, setting them down as the two of you make your way over. “This idiot doesn’t shut up about you. I’m Hanamaki– Makki, though, since we’re friends.” He winks and you can’t help but laugh in response, ignoring the indignant cry from Tooru.

“It’s great to finally meet you guys.”

“Mattsun’s just–”

Over Makki’s shoulder, you spy him. Tall, dark haired and handsome, there’s no mistaking it. He’s busy shoving his keys and wallet into the pocket of his jeans when he looks over. Catches your eye.

And just like that day on the beach in Argentina, colour explodes.

New and vibrant, so bright that it blinds, steals the breath right from your lungs. Hues you never knew existed – reds and pinks and yellows. Browns. Mixing in a vivid symphony that burns across your vision like a meteor.

Your dress and the TV screen playing behind the bar, the colour of Matsukawa’s shirt.

This time there’s no pleasant, warm tingling feeling, there’s no giddy delight. You already have a soulmate, this has already happened once, it’s not supposed to happen again–

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Can’t hear the shocked ‘holy fuck’ that falls from his lips over the roaring in your ears.

You feel it, though. The body that stiffens beside yours. The sharp intake of breath that cuts like a guillotine.

It seems a cruel twist of fate that the first time you see your soulmate’s face in colour – true colour, eyes not the grey tint you’ve come to adore but lovely and deep and swimming in pain – he’s looking back at you as if you’ve ripped his still beating heart out of his chest and squeezed the life right out of it.

He blinks, and there’s nothing.

“Tooru–”

Shaking off Iwa’s hand, ignoring the broken syllables of his name as they fall from your lips, he walks out.

You don’t think, lurching to chase after him.

Mattsun–

No. You can’t worry about him right now.

Ducking and weaving your way through the crowded bar, you don’t realise that Matsukawa’s followed you until you burst out into the cool, autumn air and his voice cuts through the night.

“Hey just– just wait a sec, would you?”

His grip is iron as it closes around your wrist, softening – but not loosening – when you finally stop for him. His mouth opens. Close. Wide eyes searching yours.

On the other side of the street, Tooru’s already climbing into a cab.

“I– I can’t, I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

And he doesn’t fight it when you pull yourself free.

—

The lights are off when you get back to the hotel room. Tooru’s out on the balcony, staring blankly out over the twinkling city lights. He doesn’t so much as blink when you slide the door open to come out to join him. Doesn’t move as you press yourself against his back, arms encircling his waist.

“I didn’t know,” you mumble, “I didn’t realise it wasn’t… everything. You have to know that.”

He tenses beneath you, and you lay your cheek against his shoulder, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I don’t care about any of it. I love you. You’re my soulmate.”

He’s silent for a long time.

“… But it’s not enough, right? I’m not enough. Otherwise–” he breaks off with a humourless laugh and it guts you. “Otherwise you wouldn’t need another soulmate.”

Pulling him closer, you don’t fight the tears that spill from your lashes, dampening the back of his shirt. “I don’t want him, I don’t want anyone but you.”

—

You wake to the sound of voices, the door to the bedroom closed over. Tooru’s side of the bed is still warm, the sheets rumpled. Pausing only long enough to quickly throw on a robe, you open the door to carefully peer out.

The scene that you’re greeted with isn’t the one you’re expecting, although all things considered perhaps it should’ve been. Tooru, still in his pyjamas, arms folded across his chest and scowling, Matsukawa standing opposite, glaring right back, looking every bit as exhausted as you feel.

“She’s my soulmate, too. You can’t bury your head in the sand and pretend it didn’t happen, Oikawa. It’s a shitty fucking situation but it did!” He exhales heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. When he continues, his voice is quieter. A touch calmer. “Look, I’m not trying to steal her away from you, I’m asking for some time.”

You can see Tooru mulling over the request, the unhappy set of his jaw. Deep down, you recognise that what Matsukawa’s asking for isn’t unreasonable, and if the situations were reversed, you’d be pleading for the same.

So would Tooru – whether he’d admit it or not.

But things aren’t that simple. They can’t be, not when you’ve already given everything to Tooru, built a life with him, planned your future with him.

You never counted on another soulmate. You’re only ever supposed to have one.

(What kind of person does that make you, to not be satisfied with that?)

Rather than let Tooru speak for you – or maybe because you can’t bear the thought of what he might say in your stead – you decide to use that moment to make yourself known. Both heads snap towards you the second the door creaks open, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

Neither speaks, though, as you walk to Tooru’s side, slip under the arm he offers.

And god, the weight of your relief at that simple gesture nearly brings you to your knees.

Meeting Matsukawa’s steady gaze, you swallow uncomfortably. “You’re right,” you tell him softly, hating yourself even as you speak the words that damn you both. “This isn’t a situation any of us want to be in. I’m sorry, really I am, but…”

“But you’re with him,” he finishes for you.

Not angry or bitter, no, the inflection of his voice gives little insight into his true feelings on the matter. His expression, on the other hand – you recognise that look, it’s one you’ve seen countless times shining in Tooru’s eyes; a steadfast resolution.

A refusal to back down.

“Okay, fine. You guys are together, I don’t care. I’m not here trying to get in the way of that.” His eyes flicker to Tooru’s, “You’re only in Tokyo for a few more days, right? Give me today, or– fuck, just give me a few hours. ”

If he were anyone else, you think, there’s no way Tooru would’ve let him through the door. Then again, if he were anyone else, this situation wouldn’t be what it is.

He matters to Tooru, and so you can’t just shove him aside and pretend he doesn’t exist. Because you can’t shove him aside, you’ll inevitably end up hurting him – over and over and over again. You won’t ever be able to give him what he wants.

To be what he wants.

That’s all you’re supposed to get; one soulmate. One happily ever after.

You sigh, “… I don’t–”

“All I’m asking for is a few hours before you disappear back to Argentina – as friends, that’s it.” He grins; a strained attempt to lighten the tension in the room. “You owe it to yourself, don’t you think?”

“As… friends,” you echo, a small crinkle appearing between your brows.

He nods. “Friends. If you’re sticking with this asshole, we’re gonna be in each other’s lives one way or another, right? Why make it awkward?”

At your side, Tooru remains unnaturally stiff. Silent. Frowning as he stares (would you go so far as to call it a glare?) not at you, but at Matsukawa.

Friend or not, you realise that he wants you to say no to him.

This isn’t his decision to make, though, and so with a deep breath, you nod, forcing yourself to smile.

“Okay, fine. As friends.”

—

“I love you,” you remind Tooru, raising yourself up on your toes to kiss him.

His arms encircle your waist as they often do, a familiar smile teasing at his lips, “I know.”

It’s a shame then, that it doesn’t reach those lovely brown eyes of his.

—

“So you never so much as suspected–?”

“No,” you reply. “It probably should’ve clicked, I guess; all the colours I thought were so dull and boring. Things that back then looked the same shade that shouldn't've, but I thought that was normal. I thought everyone saw the world like that.” You shrug haplessly, “And I was happy, so why would I think I was missing something?”

Perhaps it’s not the kindest thing to admit that out loud to Matsukawa. He had been the one to ask, though.

The two of you are settled on the couch in Hanamaki’s living room – his temporary residence while he’s staying in Tokyo – Tooru off being distracted by Makki and Iwa.

To Matsukawa’s credit, he’s trying. No amount of awkwardly skirting the conversation can distract from the giant elephant in the room, though, and it’s hard on you both.

Because it isn’t difficult being with him.

He’s funny, yes and undeniably handsome – maybe not in the way Tooru is, with his pretty features and big, brown eyes, but attractive all the same. The moment you relaxed and stopped worrying about what to say and how you were supposed to act around your not-soulmate soulmate, everything fell into place. It became easy to talk with him. To laugh and giggle at the stupid jokes.

Like breathing.

“Missing something, huh?” he grins, waggling his eyebrows, and you roll your eyes with a huff.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Yet the grin remains. “Sure, ‘course I do.” Then, changing tracks before you can retort, he asks, “You hungry?”

You can pretend that you haven’t noticed the sky outside’s no longer pink and golden, sunset long since having come and gone. A few hours, that’s it, you’d promised Tooru, I’ll be back before dinner.

Your fingers curl into the hem of your skirt, twisting.

“Actually, I should probably–”

Before you can rise, Matsukawa’s hand falls on your thigh, stopping you. “C’mon, stay. We’ll get takeout – there’s a pretty good dumpling place just down the road.” And, as if he knows full well exactly where your hesitation lies, he adds, “You’re already here, what’s the harm in another hour or two?”

You sigh, “Matsukawa–”

“He gets you for the rest of your lives, you can’t give me one dinner?” he interrupts.

His tone doesn’t betray any bitterness, still, the words hit you like a slap in the face, cold and biting.

He’s not lying.

In a few days' time, you’ll board the flight home to Argentina with Tooru, and you know in your heart of hearts that it’s unlikely he’ll ever bring you back, not now.

… And yet a part of you wants to be here. The part that glows when you’re around him, the part of you that beats and lives and breathes solely for Matsukawa Issei.

You can’t live a life split between two soulmates.

“Don’t pretend you don’t wanna stay,” he continues, watching your expression closely. “And stop with the Matsukawa bullshit.”

You arch a brow. Really, that’s what he’s concerned with right now? “You’d rather I call you Mattsun?”

Matsukawa chuckles, shaking his head.

His hand still resting on your thigh, you hadn’t realised how close he was. Is. You can count every eyelash if the desire struck, your breath mingling with his in the few inches that separate you from him.

You should push him away, you think distantly, but you don’t.

“Nah,” his voice is deep; a soft, commanding rumble that sends heat flushing to your face, your heart trilling like a hummingbird’s. ”I want you to call me Issei.”

Mouth suddenly dry, you manage to stutter out a breathy “O-okay,” much to his amusement.

It softens, though, shifts into an expression more contemplative as the seconds tick by and neither of you move.

“… Stay,” he repeats. Gentler this time.

He’s not just talking about dinner.

“The dumplings are that good, huh?”

Rather than take the weak rejection for what it is, Issei merely shrugs, settling back into the couch – finally putting some much needed space between you, “Company’s better.”

And he’s telling the truth – at least insofar as dinner’s concerned.

An hour later finds you knocking his chopsticks out of the way to steal the last perfect, delicious pork gyoza for yourself, “Snooze ya lose,” you laugh between bites.

“Greedy.”

You grin wider. “For dumplings? Absolutely.”

Tooru would’ve pouted, jokingly accusing you of loving food more than you loved him.

Issei, on the other hand, snorts.

“Yeah, well I can work with greedy,” and then there’s a warm, calloused palm cupping your cheek and he’s kissing you.

For a split second – a heartbeat – you lose yourself in it. The way his mouth moves against yours, the roughness of fingertips grazing your skin, his tongue in your mouth – the taste of him.

Issei kisses you like salvation itself lies between your lips, and for a split second (no more than a heartbeat) you kiss him back.

And then realisation sets in – ice dousing your system, shocking you back to reality. You break away with a gasp, physically shoving him back.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hiss.

There’s a flicker of something dangerously close to hurt in his eyes, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. “I would’ve thought that was pretty obvious,” he drawls back.

“I told you I’m with Tooru! This,” you gesture between the two of you, “can’t happen. I told you that!”

The muscle in his jaw clenches. “So what? ‘Cause he’s the one to find you first, he gets to keep you all to himself, and fuck everybody else?”

“You’re making it sound like this is something we chose!” you snap. “I committed to Tooru, we have a life together. I live on another continent for god’s sake! I thought you understood that…”

That’s what you’d both agreed; friends, nothing more. You couldn’t ever be anything more.

The silence between you is heavy. Uncomfortable. Eventually, Mattsun sighs, running a hand through his messy hair.

“That’s how it is, then; he gets you for the rest of your lives and I get left with nothing?”

The comment doesn’t sit well with you – you’re not some prize that either one of them gets to keep. Yet recognising that he's more than justified in being upset over the situation and, more importantly, that calling him out on it serves neither of you, you shove your indignation aside.

“Depends on whether you think having a friendship is nothing.”

He doesn’t have an answer for that, jaw working as he glares a hole into the wall over your shoulder.

Sensing that there’s no salvaging the night, you stand, making the few short steps to the table where you dumped your purse on your way in – far from blind to the eyes that follow your every move.

“I think I should go.”

If anything, Matsukawa looks even less happy with that, but he rises to his feet and nods stiffly all the same. “Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I can find my own way back.”

—

Your boyfriend smells of sake when he returns, winding his arms around you to pull you close, pressing kisses to your cheek. If Tooru notices the salty dampness beneath his lips, he doesn’t pass comment. “Missed you. Thought you were comin’ home for dinner,” he murmurs, his tone carrying a bitter edge the alcohol can’t mask.

“I’m sorry,” the words come robotically.

Hoarse.

And then, without warning, you shatter. Sobbing, heaving for each and every breath as your legs give way beneath you. Only Tooru’s arms, strong and lithe, tightening around your middle keep you from falling.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cry.

Sorry for staying out later than you’d promised.

Sorry for kissing Matsukawa.

Sorry for hurting him.

Sorry for causing this whole stupid mess in the first place.

The two of you sink to the floor, Tooru clutching you tight. Frantic touches, hasty words spoken between kisses, he tries – and fails – to bring you back from the brink. Back to him.

It’s white noise, all of it.

Something inside of you is breaking, fracturing into tiny pieces you‘re not sure you’ll ever be able to put back together and mend, and it hurts.

Oh god, it hurts.

—

The two of you fly home the following afternoon.

Tooru makes up some excuse about Coach calling him back last minute for pre-season preparations. He tells you to pack your suitcase with a peck to your cheek – and you do.

What other choice is there?

Matsukawa’s there to see you both off – along with Makki and Iwa – though he barely speaks more than a few words to his old friend. Instead, he stares until you disappear beyond the gate, arms folded across his broad chest, expression inscrutable.

And it feels as if you’re leaving behind some vital piece of yourself.

Jet engines roar and Tokyo becomes nothing more than glittering lights out your window. In the seat beside you, Tooru smiles, lacing your fingers with his.

“I love you,” he reminds you.

—

Months pass.

You… adjust.

It’s not easy – on either of you – but you make it work. Tooru was your entire world before, he’s your entire world now; that’s all there needs to be to it.

And if you notice how he hovers, how lately you seem to spend less time out with your friends and more alone with him, how the sex is different, and sometimes you wake up to find him staring, only for him to smile and sweetly kiss you good morning, you push those thoughts aside.

You’re both trying, and that’s what matters.

Then, late one afternoon, a knock sounds at your door. Assuming that it’s Tooru and he’s left his keys at home (again), you leap to throw it open and welcome him home – not bothering to pause and check the peephole.

Only it isn’t Tooru.

Matsukawa stands on the other side, a backpack hanging off one shoulder, shadowy circles beneath tired eyes. Eyes that snap to the hand you have resting on the doorframe and narrow.

More specifically, to the ring that catches the golden rays of the afternoon sun; glittering and pretty and expensive looking.

Your heart thuds unevenly.

Twisting your arm to shove it behind your back – and out of his sight – you swallow, “Tooru isn’t here,” you tell him.

As if that’s why he’s at your door, having travelled halfway around the world after months of complete radio silence between you; to visit his friend.

(As if you aren’t distinctly aware that he and Tooru barely speak any more.)

Matsukawa ignores it entirely.

“You said yes.”

A statement, not a question.

You know what he’s referring to, of course. While you’d kept fairly quiet regarding your engagement, at least insofar as your social media was concerned, Tooru had practically screamed it from the mountain tops.

Post after post, pictures of the two of you looking loved up and blissfully happy, of the ring. Bringing it up in interviews and post match press spots. You would’ve been more surprised to learn Matsukawa hadn’t heard about it.

Not that that does anything to assuage the guilt currently eating its way through your insides.

“I did.”

His throat bobs, eyes narrowing.

Your mouth opens, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re supposed to say to him. Do you try to justify it? Apologise? He can’t be that surprised, you told him that you were with Tooru, committed to him – surely he knew that this was coming.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. Matsukawa drops his bag, licks his lips–

“Yeah, well, you’re fucking mine, too.”

– and shoves his way inside. One large hand curls around your neck, the other pulling you flush against his front. Kissing you like his life depends on it.

He’s big enough – strong enough – to lift you up, his arm slipping beneath your ass to anchor you, marching the two of you further inside. And unlike last time, he doesn’t give you the chance to protest or break away. The fists that beat against his chest ignored, every muffled cry lost to his lips and tongue.

It’s desperate and angry, bordering on painful, and when he drops you on your bed – the one you share with Tooru – he’s panting.

He watches you with a razor sharp intensity, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, seemingly waiting for you to make the next move. To run. Slap him. Grab him by the collar and kiss him back, twice as hard.

Like he’s giving you the chance to make this choice with him – a knife to your throat, the two of you dancing on the precipice.

And for the first time since you met him and that precious, devastating bond snapped into place, you feel a distinct twist of fear. Oily and insidious, it creeps like vines across your chest, cruel thorns ripping into flesh, tearing at your vital organs as it constricts. Strangles.

The Matsukawa staring back at you; you don’t recognise him.

But surely… surely he wouldn’t go so far as to hurt you, right? He might be upset – angry, even – but if you can talk him down from… whatever this is, everything’ll be fine. He’ll stop if you ask him to, won’t he?

Because Mattsun can’t… he wouldn’t–

You don’t dare finish the thought.

Sucking down a gulp of air, you curl your fingers into the soft sheets beneath you – if only so he won’t see how badly they’re trembling. He’s upset, but he won’t hurt you.

He won’t hurt you.

Repeating it like a silent mantra, you breathe again, and in the calmest voice you can muster, call his name.

“Issei.”

He groans appreciatively, eyes briefly rolling shut as he presses closer. With his body wedged between your thighs, it’s impossible not to notice the growing bulge beneath his jeans. Your stomach flips; is he seriously getting a hard-on from this?

Towering over you, he takes your face in his hands – each palm nearly swallowing your cheeks – and tilts it upwards. “Yeah?”

Your skin prickles, goosebumps rising.

“Issei, you’re scaring me,” you whisper, desperately searching his face for any semblance of understanding. Regret. Remorse. Shame.

Anything.

You come away empty.

“I don’t want this.”

And you wonder whether he can feel your racing pulse beneath his fingertips, the shiver that wracks your body when he strokes the delicate skin.

“We don’t always get what we want.”

You rear back like you’ve been slapped, but he’s already pushing your shoulders down to the mattress, climbing on up after you. “But ‘m gonna show you you fucking need me.”

“Matsu–”

“Issei,” he growls, and attacks your lips once more.

You’re squirming, legs kicking out ineffectually, and the pink cotton of your sundress gives all too easily under his rough, greedy touch.

Your bra follows suit, torn down the middle and cast aside, Matsukawa’s mouth tearing away from your lips to suck and lave at your breasts. His tongue swirls around the soft mounds, licking and mouthing til you gasp and keen and your nipples stiffen into pretty peaks for his teeth to nip none too gently at.

“Issei, please!”

There’s marks there already, bruises and hickeys in mottled shades of red, burgundy and yellow. Possessive, adoring marks left by Tooru’s mouth – marks that he’s now trying his utmost to overwrite.

And while his face is buried in your chest, his hands wander down the span of your waist, holding you down yes, but squeezing and groping, exploring the bared flesh beneath the tattered remains of your dress.

Matsukawa’s impatient. His movements rushed, an urgency edging every touch. Is he worried about Tooru coming home, you wonder, or simply fed up with waiting for what he believes himself entitled to?

Your stomach turns at the thought.

That he’s spent days thinking about this, planning it. Did your refusal ever factor in? Or in this make believe world of his, were you always willing to throw your relationship with Tooru away and cheat without a second thought?

When those rough, calloused fingertips rub along the seat of your panties and he groans against your tits, deep and satisfied, tears spring to your eyes. You don’t bother to try keeping them at bay – if your pleas weren’t enough to sway him to stop, you can’t imagine the sight of you crying will move him any differently.

Yet he does notice them, dark eyes dilating at the sight, his mouth – preoccupied still with your breasts – curling into a smirk despite himself.

He’s enjoying this, you realise sickly.

Spurred on by the tears spilling from your lashes, thick fingers push aside the seat of your panties, swiping at your folds. They come away glistening, and you want nothing more than for the ground beneath you to open up and swallow you whole.

Finally parting from your chest, he sucks the digits into mouth, simmering eyes burning a hole into you, savouring the sweet taste of your cunt. And as if your humiliation – your heartbreak – is not enough already, he takes them from his lips and drags them down your stomach, leaving a lewd trail of saliva and slick in his path. Your hysteria builds when they reach your underwear once more, but Matsukawa hushes you.

“Trust me,” he murmurs lowly, his voice more a growl than anything else, “you want me to do this. Gonna hurt you otherwise.”

Yet he doesn’t look nearly as put out by the prospect as he should be.

“Please, please Issei, I don’t–”

He kisses you again, muffling your protests with his tongue as his fingers, pointer and middle, force their way into your sex.

And oh god, oh god, it’s not that the thickness isn’t anything you haven’t taken before, only that you’re not prepared, and it stings as your cunt stretches around the sudden intrusion.

It’s graceless, the way that he curls the digits, fucking them into you.

Graceless, but effective. With every squelching prod, the walls of your pussy relax a little more, a whisper of pleasure taking the place of pain. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to pretend that it’s Tooru touching you, kissing you. Fighting him off when he’s so much bigger and stronger than you might be an exercise in futility, but maybe you can get through this if you imagine it’s him. If you pretend that this is an act of love and not a violation of your body and trust.

It’s Tooru who’s doing this.

Tooru who loves you, who wouldn’t so much as dream of hurting you.

It’s Tooru.

… It’s all wrong, though. Your body knows it. Tooru isn’t rough, but coaxing. He likes to use his mouth as well, talented tongue teasing at your clit while his fingers seek out your g-spot to bring you to a shaking, shuddering orgasm. Usually, the first of many.

He talks, too, whispering absolute filth into your ear, laughing when you whine and beg – he loves it when you beg for him.

Tooru likes to take his sweet time.

Matsukawa, on the other hand, waits only long enough for your body to stop outwardly resisting him before he breaks from you with a heavy exhale. “Fuck.”

You keep your eyes shut as he sheds his clothes – first his jacket and then the shirt beneath. The clinking of his belt buckle brings a fresh wave of sickening fear, and he rolls off of you only long enough to kick his jeans off and into some corner of your bedroom along with the rest of his clothes.

His nose nudges at your neck as he climbs back over you, broad hands pushing your thighs apart to settle in between.

And still you don’t look.

Can’t bear to.

“I forgive you,” he mutters, hot breath tickling uncomfortably at your skin.

He says it like an oath, absolution for the wrongs that pale in comparison to the act he’s about to commit, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip, drawing blood. “I love you, even when you’re being stubborn and fucking difficult.” You hear him shifting above you, a quiet, shuddering grunt as the blunt head of his cock slides along the outside of your wet pussy. “But I’m not gonna let you keep running away.” The tip brushes against your clit, and your hips jerk in response, drawing a sharp hiss from the dark haired man. “You’re mine, too,” he growls. “…Look at me.”

Childishly, you ignore the request. Why should you humour him when he’s about to violate you in your own bed.

“Look at me,” he repeats, his voice deepening.

When it becomes clear that you have no intention of complying, he makes an exasperated noise, like you’re the one acting out.

“I love you.” With neither gentleness nor care, the mushroom shaped head of his cock spears into your wet cunt – and your eyes fly open regardless, a strangled scream ripping its way free from your lungs.

No amount of prep would make this any easier to take. His cock is thick, throbbing as it splits you in two. It’s only the hand he has braced on your hip that keeps you from scrambling back, forcing you to take it as Matsukawa feeds it in, inch by inch.

And it’s only the tip.

Tooru’s by no means small, and yet Matsukawa puts his dick to shame. The sheer girth of it has your eyes watering, heart rate picking up. Even his balls, hanging beneath the thick, veined monstrosity that is his cock, lie heavy and full. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to take all of him, not unless he plans on rearranging your insides!

He has the nerve to grin and chuckle, “Told you you’d need the prep.”

There’s no disassociating this time. No fantasy you can conjure up to pretend this is anything other than what it is. His cock rocks inside of you, twitching and eager, and through the breath-taking haze of pain and discomfort, a thread of pleasant heat coils inside of you.

Traitorous.

Wanting.

Once upon a time, you imagined how this might go.

If things were different, and you’d met him before Tooru. You’d lain back on this very bed, your fingers dipping between your thighs as you’d shamelessly imagined how he’d take you the first time. How he’d start off gentle, not wanting to scare you with his size, taking it slow to ease you onto his cock, praising you ‘til you were a flushing, panting mess beneath him.

And then, when he was sure you were adjusted and ready to take more, when you were almost mad with want, he’d hold you down, grin that wicked, irresistible grin of his, and fuck you like there’d be no tomorrow.

Maybe this is retribution, you think, another pained noise slipping out as you stretch impossibly around him. For wanting. For being greedy.

Why wasn’t Tooru enough?

Already, you’re stuffed too full. There’s no room left but he keeps going. All you can think about is the pain between your legs, the heat of him, radiating with each pulse of his dick, your cervix crying out as his cock bullies its way forward despite the barrier.

Finally, he bottoms out, his head falling back with a deep, throaty curse.

You can’t think. Can’t move.

Can barely breathe.

Pain, pain, pain–

and pleasure, curled up in one.

And Matsukawa opens his eyes to find yours. There’s no words, only a maddening lust that bleeds over his features. In one fell swoop, he’s looming over you again, a muscular arm sweeping under your back to lift you from the bed, crushing you to his front. He draws his hips back, ignoring the way you wince and whimper at the sting, and with that same awful grin, slams them forward once more, stuffing himself balls deep to the sound of your choked cries.

He fucks you on his cock like a ragdoll.

Uncaring about the tears that spill down your cheeks (or perhaps urged on by them), Matsukawa presses hot, open mouthed kisses to your neck, your jaw, moaning your name in between vicious, pistoning thrusts. With one hand braced against the mattress, his pace is relentless.

A bead of sweat runs from his temple down to his chin, dripping onto your skin before rolling to the sheets beneath you. Your own hair is matted to your damp forehead, your body running hot, burning under the heat of him. He’s everywhere. It’s all you can do to grasp at the broad planes of his back, fingernails sinking in, scratching him while he takes his pleasure with little care for your own.

“Is-sei” you gasp – a plea.

One he ignores.

Another guttural groan, and he shifts – flipping you over, lifting your hips, “C’mon, up on your knees for me, ah, good girl.”

Your top half falls back to the mattress, Matsukawa squeezing your waist. He gives you only a moment, no more than a second, to brace yourself before he resumes that brutal pace. And when his cock slides into your aching pussy, instead of a wail, this time you moan, wanton and whorish, a zing of pleasure surging from your core.

A slap rings through the room, the flesh of your ass stinging even as his palm rubs soothingly at the abused flesh.

“That good, huh, baby?” he laughs. “Knew you’d come around.”

The punch of his cock robs you of any indignation. Every noise dragged from your lips sings with reluctant pleasure, a chorus to accompany the lewd slaps of flesh, Matsukawa’s grunts, both of your panting breaths.

And the tears spill quicker, wetting the pillow you’ve dragged beneath your face. Clutching at it like a lifeline.

You hate him.

Hate him, even as your hips rise and roll back into his, a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Matsukawa lowers his chest to your back, sinks his teeth into your shoulder. Another mark, another claim, your spine arches and Issei’s grip tightens. No longer does he pull out completely, choosing instead short, rabbiting thrusts that burn and ache and have the warm, velvety walls of your pussy fluttering and clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he curses again, picking up the pace. “Fuck.”

Like wildfire, it consumes you. His lips dragging along your back, the heat of his body sliding against yours. Most of all, that awful, addictive feeling of fullness, his cock pumping your guts. The rippling shockwaves that have your toes curling, your body crying out for more, more, more.

You hate it, you hate him and you hate yourself more than either of those things, but none of that matters when Issei roars your name, fingers sinking into the fat of your hips as hot, viscous cum spurts from his cock into the warmth of your pussy.

And you unravel completely.

—

The cherry red tip of his cigarette glows in the dying light of the afternoon as he takes a long, slow drag.

Issei holds you to him, a muscular arm draped over your shoulder, keeping you nestled into his side. In all honesty, though, you haven’t made much of an effort to slip away.

Where would you go? You can’t leave. You can’t pretend that it didn’t happen – not when your body is littered with undeniable proof that it did.

You can’t outrun him.

Or Tooru, once he finds out.

His cum hasn’t yet dried from your thighs, your cheeks shining with tears that spill silently, and Issei hums contentedly, exhaling a breath of smoke. Idle fingers trace lazily at your arm, he takes another drag.

Distantly, you recognise the sound of your front door opening, your name being called and the soft tread of footsteps approaching.

Your eyes squeeze shut, but Issei has no such compulsion as your soulmate stops dead in his tracks at the open doorway.

Exhales again, smoke billowing from curling lips.

“Captain.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere mastukawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere matsukawa issei x reader #tw: noncon

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sinkix · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu!! │Boys reaction to you calling them ‘Daddy’│ Ft. Daichi, Iwaizumi, Kuroo & Kageyama

Okay SO, I took inspo from @animewh0re ‘s ‘Kuroo Tetsurou x Accidental Daddy HC’ post so big shout out to her ly bb - be sure to give them a follow <3

For this post I picked some of the characters I felt would be more likely to have a daddy kink so their reactions would be the most interesting/comical whether the reader was doing it was intentionally or not. There were some others I had in mind that I may make into a second part. I got a little carried away writing these as you will see lmao, oopsie.

! All characters are 18+ - Contains NSFW content !

My Ko-fi - Because a caffeinated Kix is a productive one.

Without further ado, enjoy ! ~

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･

Daichi:

I feel like Daichi low-key already knew he had a daddy kink

Like somewhere deep in that dudes soul he just had a fuckin hunch.

However he never brought it up to you because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, being the kind and considerate dude he is.

One night you were both just relaxing and watching a movie, he was tracing his finger along your thigh because let’s face it he is 100% a thigh man.

At some point you began getting restless, so you shifted yourself to face him, propping yourself up against his knee as you leaned down to kiss him, cupping your hands around his cheeks. He grunts in approval, cheekily sliding his hands down to squeeze your ass, using the moment of surprise to slide his tongue in and deepen the kiss. He’s pretty crafty when he wants to be.

After a few minutes you could feel yourself growing impatient, raising the hem of your baggy shirt and grinding your clothed slit against the ridges of his thigh.

Daichi’s weakness #8 activated, thigh riding.

He drags his palms against your hips, taking control of your vigorous movements and forcing more pressure against your cunt and causing you to whimper. Lowering your head next to his, soft moans grace against the shell of his ear in wisps that send shivers down his spine.

You can sense Daichi’s own dwindling patience as the momentum becomes desperate with the way he’s now hastily grinding your hips down onto him, groaning at the sensation of your juices dripping through the thin fabric and cooling against the skin of his thigh.

All of a sudden a long and breathy “Mhmmm~ daddy” escapes your lips, and this dude is so taken aback.

Snapping your head up to face him, his eyes are glazed over with an intensity enough to make your core tremble, your cheeks flushing at the realisation of what you just blurted out starts to sink in.

“Fuck, I want to hear you say that again baby.”

Without warning he flips you over and on to the couch, hovering over you as his hips buck against the wetness covering your clothed core, eliciting more moans as he sucks on the tender skin of your neck.

“A-ah daddy...”

“more.”

His tone was desperate and commanding, only further igniting the pleasure growing between the two of you.

Trailing his hands down to the edge of your underwear and slipping them inside, his fingers find their way to your clit and rub the area in soft, circular motions, sucking harder against the skin of your neck and streeling his tongue along the bruised aftermaths.

“Daddy..”

“Again.”

You didn’t pay any mind to the rest of the movie, and you both had a lot of fun with this new found kink the two of you shared.

Iwaizumi:

Since Iwa radiates big dom energy and you cannot convince me otherwise, I feel like he is also one that just has a hunch that this is something he’s into.

You already have a hella Dom x Sub relationship sexually so this experimentation was probably long awaited. A slip up no less, and an embarrassing one.

It was a late Friday evening after school, the sun was already long gone yet you were still helping Iwa and Oikawa practise by tossing for them as many times as they requested. How they weren’t already beyond the point of burn out you didn’t know.

Glancing at the wall clock which read ‘8:23pm’, Iwa huffed and rubbed the back of his head. “All right, it’s time to call it a night.” “But Iwa-chaaaann--” Oikawa interjected. “No. Plus, I’m sure (Y/N) is exhausted by now hm?” He whips round to face you and you nod in agreement, eyes hooding from fatigue at the long days events. “Fineee.” Oikawa grumbles, pouting his lips playfully and sending you a wink, rolling your eyes and sticking your tongue out at him in response.

A few minutes later, most of the balls and club equipment are packed away. You’re tossing the last few balls into the basket when Iwa saunters up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist which sends the ball tumbling across the floor.

“Ah, daddy don’t-”

silence.

Pure. utter. silence.

The words had escaped from your mouth before you could stop them.

The sound of the ball rolling echoes throughout the room and you can feel Iwa’s entire body tense up while in his hold, hands digging into your hips as he lets out a low grunt. You sheepishly look in Oikawa’s direction, who’s shooting you both a glance as if to say ‘so this what y’all get up to?’ Attempting to stifle his snickers and the sudden light his face has been brightened with.

Little did he know this was the first time you had actually called him that, and it was raging a lustful fire through his body. The body now roughly thrusted up against you.

You had a feeling Iwa would never hear the end of this.

Walking a fine line between pressing against your body and full on grinding, he utters his next few words as abruptly as possible.

“You can head on out Oikawa, me and (Y/N) will finish up cleaning.”

This only furthers his amusement, the cogs in his head turning as he gives a quick nod, strolling toward the gym doors painstakingly slow as if savouring every last ounce of tension brewing in the air. “Ooookay, have fun, daddy-chan.” The howls of his laughter can be heard even after the doors swing shut, you two stay rigid until his voice fades off in the distance.

“Follow me, now.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs you by the wrist and drags you into the storage room, slamming you against the locker, he stares down at you hungrily as his lips crash against yours, hands ravaging every curve of your body. Pulling away, a string of saliva connects as his lips brush against the crook of your neck. “I want you to say that again, little slut.” Snaking into the waistband of your shorts and dragging a digit against your slit, the words flow out effortlessly. “D-daddy please...”

“Fuck, I’m going to have so much fun with you, kitten.”

And fun with you he did.

Kuroo:

Y’all are always clowning and pulling some buffoonery on each other so this time you figured you’d kick it up a notch.

Kenma and Kuroo were talking while the rest of the team were doing warm-down stretches after practise.

Cue operation ‘Make Kuroo squirm’. Commencing stage 1.

Lingering behind Kuroo, you rest your chin on his shoulder and fold your arms around his waist, pulling him in for one of your behind-hugs that he adores.

oh how naive he was.

Swaying lovingly from side to side, you take the opportunity when Kenma looks away. With the most innocent of tones you could muster, you tilt your head upward, dragging your teeth gently against the lobe of his ear, and strike.

“Daaaaddy?”

When I tell you homeboys body freezes up, I mean that shit is like an iceberg that could cause Titanic 2.0

Kuroo whips his head round to face you, wide-eyed and eyebrow cocked as if to say ‘damn you really just went there?’

You smile sweetly, fluttering your lashes and feigning an innocence which you know drives him up the wall, a ‘try me bitch’ expression darting in your eyes.

He smirks at this, huffing under his breath so quietly it’s barely audible.

“You’re so in for it later, kitten.”

You knew this, but it was more than worth seeing him suffer for the time being.

Kenma’s attention is now directed back to Kuroo after watching Lev get tangled in the volley net like a fly done dirty by the Darwin theory.

Commence stage 2.

They continue their conversation, all the while your hand is roaming stealthily under his shirt, trailing along every line, curve and crevice of his abs and pectoral region.

Kuroo is whipped for the sensation of you feeling him up, he won’t ever admit to it but he caves under your touch.

You feel his posture stiffen as your hands hover above the region of his crotch.

Gotcha.

“What’s wrong, daddy?” Your voice is only loud enough for Kuroo to hear, and judging by the way Kenma looks at him next you can imagine his face is nothing short of priceless.

Pudding head senses something awry with Kuroo because my guy looks well and truly stumped.

“Uh, excuse us a sec.”

Kuroo without warning flings your body over his shoulder and strolls toward the gyms entrance. You playfully whack his back with your fists and flail your legs, barking at him to let go. The whole team turns their attention to you and laughs.

“Get some (Y/N)! Lev hollers, and the last thing you see is Yaku slapping him up-side the head before the doors close.

Placing you back on your feet, he doesn’t give you a second to adjust before kabe-donning you against the building wall, the rain only further adding to the steamy atmosphere you had created.

Grabbing your wrist and guiding it to his shorts, your fingertips brush against the tent straining against the crimson fabric.

“See how hard you’ve made me princess? I can’t go ahead with the team meeting like this. Be a good slut for daddy and get on your knees, I’ll gladly make a mess of that pretty little face.”

You comply, shivering as the damp grass caresses the skin of your knees.

“You like calling me daddy, huh? That turn my little whore on?” Kuroo grunts, thrusting himself repeatedly into the back of your throat until his balls touch your chin. Tears well in your field of vision and start streaming down your cheeks which he wipes away tenderly. “Well, I’ll make sure you call me that more often.”

10 minutes and a very sore throat later, you both finish up and Kuroo looks more than satisfied, running his fingers through your disheveled hair and marvelling at the mess he made of your makeup.

“Clean yourself up in the restroom princess, I’ll see you back inside and we’ll continue this later. I’m far from done.”

With a sly smirk and a peck on the cheek, he walks back into the gym.

Needless to say he’s definitely going to make you call him daddy from now on, and you got many suggestive stares when you made your embarrassing debut back into the gym.

Kageyama:

Okay so the thought has probably never crossed Kags mind since his head is filled with like 98% volleyball.

The other 2% being the undying love he has for you. But hey, 2% is still 2%, I’ll take it.

Your sex life was although very satisfying, pretty vanilla. The only time it got really intense was if Kags had a bad day or was bubbling with jealousy, in which case a surprising and un-tamable dom side of him emerges.

This often made you ponder what would happen if you addressed him under a title with said connotations. The curiosity of how he would react was slowly ebbing away at you.

So one day, being the scheming little shit you are, decided to test the waters.

The day had started off pretty well, it was a Saturday and you were taking a walk around town.

Kags wanted to grab some snacks so you headed to the store, agreeing to wait outside.

A few minutes go by and he still hasn’t come out, however the roaming eyes of a guy opposite left you feeling incredibly uneasy.

You shifted in place awkwardly, until he decides to approach you.

Up close he was sleazy, with a menacing glint in his eyes that made you recoil.

Resting his elbow on the wall beside you, he leans in way too close for comfort.

“Hi baby, you’re not with anyone are you? Mind giving me your number?”

His voice was low and threatening, as if daring you to decline his order than was snidely masked as an offer.

Mustering up all the courage you had, you raised your chin and stared up at him defiantly. “No, I have a boyfriend.”

He chuckles at this, leaning in closer and challenging you further.

“Well, I don’t see him.”

“I’m right here.”

There Kags was, standing outside the entryway to the store, bearing the most livid expression you had ever seen. You’re pretty sure there were flames surrounding his aura.

The guy backs up, letting out a causal whistle before wordlessly turning in the other direction, leaving the two of you alone again at last.

“Tobio wha-”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fi-”

“We’re going home.”

The walk was silent and you could sense the tension in the surrounding atmosphere.

After opening the door and tossing the bags to the side, Kags pins you against the front door and pulls you in for a fervid make out, intertwining your tongues and fighting for the dominance which he easily obtains.

He runs his hands ravenously over every inch of your upper body, making his way down south until he reaches your underwear, using one hand to grind his digits along your folds while the other fondles your breasts.

Suddenly, you have a lightning bolt moment and decide to put your thoughts to the test.

“Mhmm-..Daddy..”

What you just did flipped a switch on inside Kags he never knew existed.

He pauses for a moment, staring at you with wide eyes and heated cheeks, he actually looks choked up.

“w..what did you just say...?”

“...Daddy?”

At this point he straight up loses it.

Picking you up bridal style, he carries you to the bedroom and bends you over his knee, hastily unbuckling his belt and folding it into a make-shift whip.

“Count each time I spank you, and fucking thank me when you do it.”

Stunned, you nod feebly, still processing this side of him you have never seen before.

whack.

“A-h! One. thank you...”

“Thank you what?”

“Thank you, daddy.”

Kags traces the red mark decorating your ass lovingly with his finger before raising the belt again for a second blow. “You belong to me and only me, I’ll mark up your pretty body beautifully.”

You had belt marks on your rear for over a week and couldn’t walk right the following day lololol.

#haikyuu!!#hq #haikyu #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #haikyuu x reader #daichi sawamura #haikyuu smut #kuroo tetsurou #karasuno #nekoma #aoba johsai #haikyuu imagines #kageyama tobio #iwaizumi hajime

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uwuwriting · 3 years

Text

How they propose w/ Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kuroo

Request: Oikawa, kuro and iwa proposing to their long term girlfriend??? -anonymous

Hi it’s me back again. *if anyone knows from which song this is I’m gonna give them a cookie no cap*. I’m back with another one and this one is just the cutest thing ever. Oikawas’ is a little dumb and goofy but I believe he would do something like that. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warning: fluff and some dorkiness.

Oikawa Toru

-Okay so he is obsessed with tik tok....and his proposal kinda made it on tik tok.

-Its a nice cutesy proposal I swear he’s just overly proud of himself.

-You had just moved in with him in Argentina.

-Somehow you managed to get a job in your field in the town next to his place so when you told him that well you were moving to Argentina he didn’t hesitate to ask you to move in with him.

-He misses you way too much, the distance makes it hard for him to feel your comfort.

-He would never dream of breaking up with you; he would make it work even if it killed him.

-So it’s been a month and a half of living together and he is in heaven.

-He knew that he wanted to marry you for some time now.

-Since that moment at the airport the day he was leaving.

-Iwaizumi was there along side Matsu and Hanamaki.

-The three dumbasses were bawling their eyes out while you were semi chocking him.

- “Call me when you land okay? I wanna know how jet lagged you feel.”

-The sad smile on your face was enough to make him spill them tears, a sad smile of his own taking its seat on his face.

- “You’ll make fun of me again.”

- “It’s part of my duties as your girlfriend you beautiful dumbass.”

-And right there with you hands on either of his cheeks and tears in your eyes he knew that he would wife you up.

-Now he has been planning this for some time.

-He went all the way to California to find Iwa so they could pick a ring together.

-Both of them needed a ring but anyways.

-After obtaining the ring....he hid it for a few weeks.

-He would wake up everyday ten minutes earlier than usual and just ask you to marry him while you were still asleep.

-Once he was satisfied with the amount of times he has said it he gets up and is out the door.

-He took you to meet his team.

-he wanted to do it then but he chickened out.

-So what does he do?

-He sulks on tik tok.

-Until he comes across a video of a girl stepping into the shower with her boyfriend and pretends that she wants to ask him something important.

-Of course that was a very dumb way to ask you something so big but he got an adrenaline jump and five minutes of dumb courage.

-He sets up his phone right outside the shower curtain and just walks in with you.

- “Hi?!”

- “Hi”

-*giggles* “Can I help you mister?”

-And here is where things take a turn because doubts start to make their way into his head and his palms are getting sweaty-

- “Toru love are you alright?”

- “Marry me.”

-The video went viral, the squad clowned him until your first child was born and your kids laugh with the story till this day.

Iwaizumi Hajime

-Unlike his best friend he took this wayyyy to chill.

-It popped up in his head one night before one of your visits.

-His roommate had asked him why he stayed in a long distance relationship.

- “Is she really so worth it man? You could have a chick in your bed every night and not wait for her visits every three months.”

- “You cannot imagine how worth it she is.”

- “You sound like you wanna marry her dude.”

-And from that point on he couldn’t get it out of his head.

-Sure he had imagined your future before.

-The house you’ll have and where he would like to go on your honeymoon, what your kids might look like and what kind of mom you would be.

-But all of it was pure speculation.

-He just wanted to see how it would feel to be so domestic.

-So here he is almost a whole year after that night, choosing a ring along side Oikawa.

-This dumbass had taken the decision to get married too quickly and had called Iwa very VERY panicky and in need of some comfort.

-They both picked their respective rings and hid the velvety boxes deep in their pockets, the two best friends saying their goodbyes and heading off to their missions.

-Now Iwa wanted this to be as lass forced and too thought out as possible.

-He believes that these things are best done in privacy and only netween the two partners.

-So he doesn’t plan anything out.

-He waits for the moment when it feels right.

-And that’s why it took him over a year to actually ask you.

-Of course it wasn’t such an improptu move like Oikawas’, he was a little less tik tok-y???

-You had ordered tak out and were eating in your shared apartment.

-After graduation you got transferred to the USA and were placed near Iwa so now just like Oikawa you lived together.

-It has been a nice calm year of just domesticated fluff.

-You were telling him about your day, how one of your co-workers ate your boss’s pretchel and they flipped.

-Or how you saw a dog dressed as a hotdog right next to a hotdog stand.

-And that’s when he just drops the bomb.

-He has been keeping the small velevt box in his pocket ever since he bought it.

-Wordlessly standing up he makes his way to your side of the table and drops to one knee.

- “I’m pretty sure you know already that I believe you are my soulmate. My other half and I couldn’t begin to imagine my life without you in it. Not even a month without you. That being said, it would make me the happiest man in the world if you would give me the honor of calling you Ms. Iwaizumi. For the rest of our lives; until we are old and wrinkly with our family running around us. Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

-You were crying at this point, nodding your head since the moment he called you his other half.

-Of course you said yes and some bomb sex followed.

-Oikawa and his now wife, were so happy to hear that Iwa finally gathered the courage to ask you.

Kuroo Tetsuro

-Baby!!!!

-He may be nasty but he is my og husband.

-Actually my second og husband.

-The first one is Akaashi.

-He bought the ring the same day he decided to ask you.

-He had been in a meeting and he was bored out of his mind so he texted you.

-You two started off by making fun of each other and ended up playing one of those dumb facebook games.

-He was letting out small giggles here and there which mind you were barely audible but the guy next to him heard them alrtight.

- “Talking with the missus eh?”

-Kuroo couldn’t control himself when he answered.

- “Yeah.”

-His coworker let out a chuckle at the sight of Kuroo’s face of surprise at his own words.

- “It was about time you wifed her. You two are so in love it almost makes me jealous.”

- “Jealous that you don’t have a beating heart Kai?”

-He got slapped....moving on.

-So with that he called you once the meeting was over and informed you of his plans for tonight.

- “Get dressed baby I’m taking you out for dinner tonight.”

- “What’s the occassion mister?”

- “It’s something special. Be ready by 9 I’ll pick you up from our apartment. Oh and could you please wear that gorgeous red dress of yours?”

- “The satin one? The one I can’t wear a bra with?”

- “You without a bra is just a bonus baby.”

- “You are a horny idiot Tetsu.”

-Now he was out on a mission.

-The mission of the ring.

-So he needed to call on the fellowship.

-Thirty minutes later Kenma, Yaku and Daichi were waiting for him at the local Starbucks.

-Alas the fellowship of the ring.

-These four idiots could barely agree on a single thing.

-Gave the shopkeepers a headache.

-But finally FINALLY they decided on one.

-Patting their friend on the back they were off, hoping that you would say yes.

-Apart from Kenma who prayed to the rain gods that you finally open your eyes and see what you are dating.

-While at the restaurant he was quieter than usual.

-He would let you talk and talk and talk about everything and anything with giving you only small nods or hums.

-He was so caught up in his head that he couldn’t see th worry in your eyes.

- “Tetsu, is everything okay? “

-And there was his oportunity.

- “Actually something is kinda bothering me and you are the only one who can help.”

-He slowly got up and made his way to your side.

- “You remember a few months back when you joked about us getting married? Or that other time when you said that I would make a great dad? Well I guess tonight will determine all of that.”

-He kneeled down and opened the small box rubbing your knee with his other hand.

- “Y/N L/N will you help me make those dreams reality?”

-Kenma disapproves.

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kurokoros · 3 years

Text

spider lily | part one

Rated: M (violence, language, etc)

Words: 7K

Pairing: kuroo x fem!reader/oc?

Summary: No one can outrun the past. Kuroo already knew that before he started bounty hunting. [cowboy bebop!au]

AN: Written for the @the-smut-pile’s western!au collab. This is barely a western, but the word “cowboy” is used so it counts. This fic is going to be multiple parts. The romance doesn’t come in for a while, just a heads up. I’m sure there’s more I meant to say here, but my brain is mush. I wrote most of this in the last three days and need a nap lmao

The dealer is watching him.

Eyes burn into his back as the bartender sets another glass of whiskey in front of Kuroo. In the mirror above the bar, Kuroo watches as one of the players, a middle-aged man with a cigar, requests another card. The dealer flips the card, revealing a Jack, and the man curses. A bust.

The dealer ignores the seething player, a look of boredom on his face. He’s thin, his hair parted to the right. Early twenties at best, but his eyes are tired and apathetic as they start to wander around the room.

It’s subtle. The dealer’s gaze doesn’t linger on Kuroo for long—it almost doesn’t linger at all, a stutter in that smooth glance around the room. If he wasn’t waiting for it, he might have missed it. But Kuroo has been painfully obvious tonight, making a show out of staring in that mirror every time a new card is drawn before making his move. It was bound to catch someone’s attention eventually. He just thought it would be sooner.

Kuroo spins the blackjack chip in front of him. White and turquoise blur together as the piece of ceramic whirls around on its edge. Gold glints under the dim lights above him.

A waitress passes the blackjack table behind him. The dealer glances at her. His mouth moves. His chin dips towards the bar where Kuroo is sitting.

“Kuroo.” Static crackles in his ear. His fingers twitch, seizing around the still spinning poker chip. It comes to an abrupt halt. Topples onto its side. With a sigh, he rests his elbow on the counter, props his chin up on his palm, and brings his drink to his mouth. “Anything?”

The whiskey burns in the back of his throat. “Not yet,” he says under his breath, glancing at the bartender to make sure he’s distracted. His fingers brush against the studs in his ear, following the steel bar attached to one of them until he reaches the attached earbud.

A disgruntled sound buzzes through the miniature speaker in his ear. “Then what are we wasting our time here for?” Tsukishima demands. The words aren’t minced, irritation mixed with his typical haughty tone.

“Getting bored out there, Kei?” Kuroo asks the younger man, keeping his tone light and amused. He specifically uses his first name, goading him. “I told you to come inside earlier. You still can. Unless you’d prefer to sit in the ship and sulk.” He takes another drink. “Besides, haven’t I told you to be patient?”

Tsukishima is silent on the other end.

The lapse in conversation stretches out. Kuroo’s gaze trails away from the card table behind him as he seeks out the rest of his crew in the reflection of the mirror over the bar. They’re still waiting where he left them, on opposite sides of the gambling floor. Akaashi is tucked close to the back wall, nursing his own drink and casually watching a game of poker, making no move to play himself like Kuroo has in the hour they’ve been here already. On the other end of the room, Bokuto is eyeing one of the card tables, starting to wander away from the slot machines and naturally gravitate towards the center of the room where a larger game of poker is being played. The prize pool has been steadily growing, attracting more attention as the night wears on.

They just have to wait a little longer for their target to show.

Eventually, Tsukishima huffs. “How do you even know Ikeda will be here tonight? He’s running. There’s no point in going to a high-traffic casino.”

Kuroo’s eyes narrow at the snappish tone, but he decides to let it slide for now. “Source said he’s headed this way,” he reminds Tsukishima. “You don’t come this close to Titan without stopping by Blue Castle. Not with a pool like that on the line.” He glances at the table Bokuto has been eyeing. “It’s up to a couple hundred grand already. He’s desperate for cash. Places like this don’t ask questions. Don’t give a shit so long as the house keeps winning.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

He shrugs, gaze wandering away from Bokuto. “Guess we’re fucked for a while.”

Tsukishima snorts. “How reassuring.”

Movement catches Kuroo’s eye in the corner of the mirror before he can ready a retort. There’s a man with dark hair shoving his way through the crowd of people gathered on the gambling floor. No, not shoving. The crowd is parting for him, scurrying out of his way as he storms across the room. Expression set in a scowl. A scowl that’s locked on Kuroo’s back.

Right on time.

He drops his hand from his face, sitting up straighter on the stool as the man comes closer. “Seems like security is finally coming to get me,” he tells Tsukishima off-handedly, abruptly ending the conversation. “Oh, and tell Kou to stop eyeing that table. His poker face is shit.”

Tsukishima pauses, like he wants to ask Kuroo what he’s talking about, but decides it’s simply not worth the effort. A grumbled response eventually comes over the radio, but Kuroo has already stopped listening. Low static buzzes in his ear as Tsukishima switches channels on his headset.

For once, he’s glad for Tsukishima’s lack of interest, though it isn’t bound to last long.

Kuroo grins into his drink as the man drops onto the stool beside him not a moment later. “About time someone got you, Iwa.” He tilts his head to the side, lazy gaze meeting a familiar stern expression. Green eyes glare back at him, and his smile widens. “I was about to bring the house down.”

A snort. “Like hell I’d let you walk away with that much,” Iwaizumi tells him. The tension in his clenched jaw loosens, but the scowl stays, and it doesn’t make him look any less disheveled. His clothes are rumpled. Shirt buttoned haphazardly; the sleeves rolled up. Iwaizumi jerks his chin towards the chip Kuroo has gone back to idly toying with in his free hand. “What are you up to anyway? Hundred thousand?”

He leans forward to look past Kuroo and braces his elbows on the counter, gesturing to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Two,” Kuroo corrects, glancing at his acquaintance. “What can I say? I’ve always had good luck.”

That gets him a chuckle. Though, it’s more disbelieving than amused. “Bullshit.” Iwaizumi shakes his head. A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Counting cards doesn’t make you lucky.”

Kuroo shrugs, a wicked glint in his gold eyes. “Not getting caught does.”

The corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth twitches. “Yeah? How’d that work out tonight?”

“I’m still winning.”

The bartender places a drink down in front of Iwaizumi without a word, though he hesitates on the other side of the bar. A curious gaze strays towards Kuroo. The young man flinches when gold eyes snap up to meet his.

“On the rocks?” Kuroo comments as the bartender is called away by another patron. He watches the man leave, aware of the gazes lingering on him now that Iwaizumi is here. Bokuto must have mentioned the other man’s presence to Tsukishima because that familiar buzzing sound vibrates in his ear. “Didn’t think you’d be one to drink on the job. What would he say about that?”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes as he downs half the drink. The single ball of ice clinks against the edge of the glass. Kuroo watches it bob in the amber liquid. “I put up with his dumb ass twelve hours a day. He owes me this much.”

“That why you look like shit?” Kuroo asks, giving him another once-over. He smirks when he sees something he hadn’t noticed before. “That shade of red looks good on you, by the way.” He gestures to the lipstick stains half-hidden behind Iwaizumi’s collar, low on the side of his throat. “Sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing.”

“Piss off.” Iwaizumi glares at him, flustered. A flush starts to creep up his neck, but it doesn’t get under his skin the way Kuroo wants it to. They’ve known each other too long for that. “What are you doing here, Kuroo?”

He takes some satisfaction in how quickly Iwaizumi changes the subject. Pleasantries gone.

Flicking the rim of his glass, Kuroo wonders how much he should say right now, mindful of the audience listening. “Passing through,” he finally settles on, watching the ice in his own drink bob. He sends Iwaizumi a pointed look. “Hopefully, we won’t be here long.”

“We?” Iwaizumi repeats, eyes narrowing as he furrows his brow. It dawns on him a second later. “You’re here on a job. Fuck.”

The glare aimed at Kuroo doesn’t soften as he waves off Iwaizumi’s concern. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Tell him that,” Iwaizumi spits back at him. He leans back on his stool, rubbing his temple. “You’re lucky Kunimi sent the waitress to me and not Kyoutani.”

Tsukishima is silent over the headset, but Kuroo knows the younger man has been listening intently since he got back, just in case Kuroo slips up and says something he shouldn’t. But Kuroo has practice. There’s always someone listening.

Kuroo taps the blackjack chip on the bar counter, tracing the Blue Castle written across the coin in an elegant scrawl. “Blond guy in the back?” With a twist of his fingers, he sends the chip spinning again. “He’s been watching me since I walked in. Looks like he wants to kick my ass.”

“You’d deserve it.” Iwaizumi looks at Kuroo. “You gonna make this easy for me?”

The chip stops spinning and falls on its side with a quiet clatter. A turquoise crown is printed in the center.

“Why not?” Glancing in the mirror one last time, Kuroo makes eye contact with Akaashi. Static buzzes in his ear, the radio crackling again. Before Tsukishima can speak, Kuroo casually flicks the switch on his headset, silencing the static. He downs the rest of his drink and slides off the stool with a lazy stretch. “It’s been a while since I saw the Great King.”

Iwaizumi leads him to the elevator.

Neither speak as they wait for it to reach the bottom floor. Kuroo takes a subtle glance around the room. The blond that Iwaizumi mentioned—Kyoutani—is still watching him. So are Akaashi and Bokuto, who have strayed from their positions closer to the door. While Bokuto seems more confused than concerned, there’s an uneasy look on Akaashi’s face. His mouth moves as he speaks to Tsukishima over his earpiece. Kuroo doesn’t bother trying to read his lips.

The ding of the elevator draws Kuroo’s attention back to Iwaizumi, who waits for him to enter the box first.

It’s been a while since Kuroo has been in Blue Castle, but as his gaze roams the panels of heavy glass surrounding the box, he figures not much has changed. The elevator juts from the main building. Three walls made of Saturn glass that reflect the neon lights from streets below. The doors slide shut as Iwaizumi follows him inside, and Kuroo leans against the wall, head tilted back. The ceiling is made of glass too.

From here, he can just barely see the stars.

Iwaizumi fishes a set of keys from his pocket. Thumbing through them, he stops when he finds the one he’s looking for: small and silver, a crown etched onto the side. The key slots into a lock at the bottom of the button panel, and the button for the fourth floor glows blue when Iwaizumi turns it.

Kuroo glances at the other man as the elevator starts to move, hands casually slipping into the pockets of his suit jacket. “Is there going to be a gun pointed at my head when I get to the top floor?”

“No promises,” Iwaizumi says, leaning back against the wall as well. The muscles in his jaw clench as he rubs the back of his neck. The lipstick stains on his neck are smeared, not nearly as noticeable as they were before. “You know how he is.”

Leaning in closer, Kuroo squints his eyes, a sly grin on his face. “You missed a spot,” he tells Iwaizumi, who glares at him.

“Fuck off.”

Kuroo’s chuckle is cut off by the doors to the fourth floor opening in front of them. There are no guns pointed at him. No guards. No dogs. Just an empty hallway leading to a set of double doors.

He hopes his shoes scuff the ridiculous marble floors as he follows Iwaizumi out of the elevator. They’re startling white, inlaid with streaks of gold.

Iwaizumi doesn’t bother knocking on the doors. He shoves them open wide, grumbling something under his breath that Kuroo doesn’t pay much attention to, immediately focused on the wall of windows across the room and the man perched behind the large, white desk centered in front of them.

He’s sprawled lazily in his chair, slumped against his desk, and unsurprised by their sudden arrival. “You truly have no tact, Hajime,” he complains, sighing as his head of security enters the room. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes as the other man runs a hand through his brunet bangs. “Though, I suppose that can’t be helped.” His lips curl into a practiced smile when his dark eyes land on Kuroo, his expression brightening as he lifts his head from where it was cradled in his hand.

“Oikawa.”

“Kuroo.” The returned greeting is clipped. Oikawa sits up straighter behind his desk. “What a surprise.” He raises an eyebrow, silently observing his old acquaintance, his stare critical as he looks over Kuroo’s rumpled suit: jacket left unbuttoned and tie loose around his neck. “You look like shit,” he says, as Iwaizumi closes the set of doors and leans against the wall beside them.

Kuroo huffs. “Good to see you too,” he responds, sarcasm thick on his tongue as he walks further into the office, eyes wandering around the space.

It’s open. Clean. Decorated in blues and whites and golds. Expensive, but not tacky. Even Oikawa is wearing a nice blue button-up, looking more presentable than either Kuroo or Iwaizumi. The man in question slides his work aside, gesturing for Kuroo to sit in one of the sleek armchairs in front of him.

“How long has it been since we saw each other?” Oikawa asks him, clasping his hands together on his desk, head tilted to one side in thought.

“Almost two years.” Kuroo eyes the chair before sitting on it and stretching out like an overgrown housecat. “Back on Ganymede. When everything was going to shit.”

Oikawa hums low under his breath. His gaze seems to darken with the memory. The room feels colder suddenly. Heavier. Oikawa watches as Kuroo absently spins one of the rings decorating his fingers. He changes the subject. “You’re working with a team now. I suppose you always were a natural leader.”

Kuroo shrugs—grits his teeth. “I keep picking up strays. Bad habit.” He nods towards the paperwork shoved to one side of the desk, piles in various states of disarray. A small crack in the façade Oikawa likes to put on. “How’s the casino these days?”

It doesn’t catch him off guard like Kuroo hoped. Oikawa’s brows furrow, his smile slipping. “You don’t care about my business ventures.”

“You don’t care who I’m working with so long as they aren’t after you,” Kuroo counters.

The stare Oikawa levels him with is matched by Kuroo’s own, gold and brown clashing. It’s Oikawa who backs down first, though Kuroo knows better than to call it a win. “Fair enough,” he concedes. “Now, are you really going to make me ask why you’re here?”

“Bounty’s for some guy named Ikeda,” Kuroo tells him. “From what I’ve heard, he was a dealer for some kingpin on Callisto who took over within the last year, after the Widow Maker Conflict.” Kuroo’s eyes narrow. “He made off with four-hundred-thousand worth of some shit called Paradise. Nasty hallucinogenic. Some places are calling it Reaper. I don’t know much about it yet.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchange a look over Kuroo’s shoulder. “So, the kingpin wants this Ikeda taken out?”

“No.” Kuroo shakes his head. “ISSP put out the bounty because they think he’ll talk. They want to get rid of this shit before one of the Mars’ Syndicates gets ahold of it. Bounty is set at over half a million right now.”

Iwaizumi scoffs by the door, arms folded across his chest. “They think the Syndicates don’t already? Dumb fucks.”

The sneered comment is followed by stark silence.

Behind his desk, Oikawa sighs. “I see,” he mutters. What little of his smile was left falls away, his lips pressing into a thin line. “The bounty does make it harder for the dealers to put out a hit instead. Too many people will be looking for one man. Once this Paradise ends up with one of the Syndicates, it’ll practically be untouchable. It makes sense they’d put out such a high bounty for it. Why do you think he’s coming here?”

“That pool downstairs is at almost five hundred thousand, right?”

This time, Iwaizumi outright laughs. “Ikeda thinks they’ll let him pay it back? They’ll make him bite the curb. Poor bastard’s good as dead already. If the kingpin doesn’t take him out now, one of the Syndicates will after he’s already in custody.”

“We got here early thanks to a tip from a friend of mine,” Kuroo explains, looking out the window. “As of about five minutes ago, every bounty hunter in the area is headed this way. By the time they get here, my crew downstairs will have caught Ikeda and left for the Juno station. Titan is going to be crawling with bounty hunters before long,” he tacks on. “And you don’t come to Titan without—”

“Without stopping at Blue Castle,” Oikawa finishes for him, tone dry. He rolls his eyes. “I’m aware.”

Kuroo leans back further in his seat, a grin already tugging at the corner of his mouth. There are no ships in sight yet, but he knows better than to think they aren’t coming. “With no bounty left, they’ll have nothing better to do but drink and play blackjack.”

Oikawa doesn’t look convinced. “They’ll be broke,” he says simply. “All of you bounty hunters are. What good does that do me?”

“It’s not my problem if they don’t know when to quit.” His golden eyes cut away from the window, catlike gaze settling on Oikawa. “Besides, when has that ever stopped you from letting someone rack up a gambling debt before?” Kuroo asks.

“I paid off yours, didn’t I?” Oikawa throws out casually, gaining a scowl from Kuroo in response. He ignores it, glancing down at his paperwork instead, then at Iwaizumi, before returning his attention to the bounty hunter on the other side of his desk. “And why wouldn’t I go after the bounty myself if he’s worth that much?”

Kuroo’s response is immediate. “You don’t like to get your hands dirty unless you need to. This one isn’t worth your time.” He shifts his weight on the chair, grinning. “And you still owe me a favor from back then.”

This time, Oikawa frowns. His eyes narrow in irritation. “I thought we settled that back on Ganymede?”

“You owed me two.”

Iwaizumi snorts, grinning as Oikawa sends him a withering look.

Instead of arguing like Kuroo expects, Oikawa pauses as he considers what Kuroo has told him so far. It does make sense. The bounty isn’t worth it to him, not when he’s unprepared. Even so.

“Why didn’t you join the poker game downstairs?” he asks. “The pool right now is more than your cut of the bounty. You could have taken it and run. Left someone else to deal with the bounty. It would have been easy for you.”

Kuroo smirks. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Oikawa clasps his hands together, fingers linking together. “What exactly are you planning, Kuroo?” he asks, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Kuroo promises.

“Somehow, I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t have to.” He shrugs. “All I’m asking is for your boys to stay out of my way.”

A pause. Oikawa is still frowning at him. “And if they don’t?”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi cuts in again. He still hasn’t moved from the spot he took up near the doors, staying out of it but remaining close. Just in case. Kuroo and Oikawa are too similar sometimes. Slick-tongued. Both of them piss Iwaizumi off like that. “It saves us a mess to clean up ourselves. Besides, business is business.”

Oikawa purses his lips, acknowledging Iwaizumi, but keeping his gaze firmly on Kuroo.

Instead of answering, Kuroo reaches under his jacket. Iwaizumi tenses where he’s leaning up against the wall, but before he can reach for his gun, Kuroo places a stack of blackjack chips on Oikawa’s desk and slides them across. Over a dozen ten-thousand-dollar chips clatter against the wood. “The house always wins, right?”

Oikawa lets him leave, dark brown eyes trailing after Kuroo as he heads for the door.

He stops beside Iwaizumi. “There is one more thing.”

“Oh?” Oikawa muses. “And what’s that?”

The ground floor is still bustling with activity when Kuroo and Iwaizumi step out of the elevator. A quick glance around the room tells Kuroo he hasn’t missed much. The all-in poker game hasn’t started yet, but there are more people milling around now, lingering closer to the middle of the room. He doesn’t see Ikeda, not yet anyway. It won’t be long until he crawls out of whatever hole he’s hidden away in.

He just hopes that’s before more bounty hunters start showing up. Despite what he told Oikawa, Kuroo isn’t so foolish as to think he’s the only bounty hunter with friends in the ISSP. If he wasn’t already headed towards Titan, they might have been too late getting here.

Catching sight of Bokuto’s hair in the crowd below, Kuroo claps Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “Until next time,” he says, offering the other man a parting grin. “Also, I should probably warn you that Bokuto tends to break things. I’m sure Oikawa won’t mind paying for the damages himself, of course. As part of that favor.”

“Fuck off.”

Iwaizumi shakes Kuroo off, much to his delight, and he chuckles as he heads back towards the bar he’s supposed to be posted at. He doesn’t make it far before he pauses, hesitating before he reaches the floor. Iwaizumi quirks a brow at Kuroo’s behavior but watches silently as the other man stands there for a moment, only a few feet away from Iwaizumi. “Hey, Hajime?” Kuroo calls over his shoulder without turning around. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Whatever, space cowboy.” Leaving Kuroo there, he turns towards the back of the room where Kyoutani is posted. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself killed now.”

An amused huff slips past Kuroo’s mouth. “No promises,” he says under his breath.

It’s not until he makes it back onto the gambling floor that Kuroo switches his earphone back on. Predictably, white noise fills his left ear. That static sound ends when a furious voice breaks through.

“What the hell was that?” Tsukishima sneers at him, louder than usual. Kuroo wasn’t gone long. Fifteen minutes at most. But it was just long enough to piss the younger man off. “Why did you cut me—”

“Tell Kou and Keiji to get back into position and wait for my signal,” he says, calmly cutting Tsukishima off. “And then connect all of the lines. If you’re going to stay outside, make sure you have eyes on the front at all times. The final pool starts in about twenty minutes. Everyone is all-in. Ikeda will be here for it.”

Tsukishima is quiet for a long time. Kuroo knows he’s pissed the younger man off, but right now, he doesn’t care.

The radio in his ear crackles one more time. “Fine.”

It’s easy to drown out the chatter in his ear as he sits at the bar. Bokuto’s voice fades into background noise, Akaashi’s occasionally filtering through as he responds to his partner. Tsukishima hasn’t spoken since he linked the coms, still pissed at Kuroo.

He’ll have to deal with that later.

Sighing, Kuroo runs his fingers through his hair and leans back.

A whiskey glass clinks against the counter in front of him. Kuroo’s gaze jumps towards the sound. Ice bobs in the glass. Slowly, his hand falls away from his head. A frown tugs at his mouth.

The same bartender from before stands across from him. Under Kuroo’s gaze, he shifts his weight back and forth on his feet. “It’s on the house,” he says as Kuroo raises an eyebrow at the drink he didn’t order. “Enjoy.”

Kuroo stares at the glass for a moment, but he doesn’t dwell on it. If Oikawa wants to waste good liquor on him, who is he to complain about it?

Raising the glass to his mouth, he takes a drink. The taste that bursts across his tongue almost makes him choke. Kuroo struggles not to laugh, biting his lip to keep from coughing.

Apple juice.

“Bastard,” he mumbles, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head.

It must be just loud enough for the microphone to catch, because Bokuto’s idle chatter cuts off abruptly. White-noise buzzes in his ear before Bokuto calls out, “Kuro?” A glance in the mirror shows that Bokuto is already looking at him from across the room, head cocked to one side curiously.

“It’s nothing,” Kuroo says, brushing him off. “Try not to break too much tonight, Kou. It’s coming out of your cut this time.”

The sudden shift in topic makes Bokuto gasp, his pride on the line. But before Bokuto can whine about being called out for occasionally being destructive, Tsukishima speaks up, his familiar bored tone smooth over the speaker in his ear.

“Kuroo,” he says nonchalantly. “Ikeda is here.”

Using the mirror, Kuroo scans the room. At the very edge of the glass, Kuroo catches a glimpse of a thin man with mousy brown hair standing near the entrance, eyes darting around the room. He’s making himself more obvious than Kuroo was. Jittery. The kind that brings problems with him where he goes. Even if he hadn’t warned Iwaizumi and Oikawa, they would have noticed him themselves immediately.

“I see him. Three o’clock.” The others call affirmatives once they have eyes on their target, and Kuroo mulls over what they should do. They need to get out of here quickly. Once more bounty hunters arrive at Blue Castle, they’ll be in trouble. “Bokuto. Akaashi.”

“Want us to cut him off?”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. Let him get close. We don’t want him running.” He doesn’t dare face Ikeda directly; he looks jumpy enough to take off if he notices. Instead, he follows him in the mirror. Just like he told Oikawa, the bounty heads straight for the counter, exchanging what little cash he has for Blue Castle chips. He’s closest to Bokuto, still lingering near the poker tables. “Kei, is there anyone following him?”

“It looked like there might have been three men tailing him on the street. They just walked in as well.”

Akaashi speaks up from where he’s carefully hidden himself in the shadow of the back wall. “They’re looking for someone,” he says, watching the trio of men’s eyes roam around the room, gazes more shrewd than if they were simply entranced by the sights. “Bounty hunters?”

Kuroo catches sight of them a moment later and grimaces. It only takes one look for him to know they have a problem. “Hitmen,” he corrects. So much for it being harder to put out a hit. Ikeda must have information that’s too valuable for him to be left alive if they’re sending this many after him. “Shit. Cut them off. Don’t lose them in the crowd.”

“You got it!”

“And you?”

Kuroo slides off his barstool. “Just leave Ikeda to me.” He pauses before grabbing his glass from the counter, taking it with him.

Bokuto and Akaashi linger further away, keeping their eyes on the hitmen trailing Ikeda, while Kuroo heads straight for the poker table. Ikeda skirts around the edge of the same table, moving to the side furthest from the doors, expecting to be followed. It would be smart. Except Kuroo is coming from behind him.

It should be easy. They’ve dealt with more difficult targets before. Craftier. Stronger. More desperate. As soon as Kuroo gets close enough, he’ll subdue Ikeda. Bokuto and Akaashi should be able to handle the hitmen by themselves if they’re working for some low-level kingpin on Callisto.

Halfway across the room, Kuroo bumps into someone on his right.

“Fuck,” he hisses. His drink sloshes in the glass, spilling over his fingers. The man who ran into him swears as well. Amber liquid stains the side of his white shirt. As his arms jerk away from the sudden cold, the sides of his jacket shift.

There’s a gun holstered at his side.

Kuroo’s eyes snap up. The other man is already looking at him. Jaw clenched. Eyes narrowed. His fingers twitch at his side. He hadn’t been on the first floor all night. They didn’t see him come in.

“Son of a bitch,” Kuroo says.

“Kuroo?” someone asks over the radio.

He sighs. “There are four of them.”

He throws what’s left of his drink in the other man’s face and lurches to the side as the fourth hitman draws his gun and shoots. The loud bang startles everyone in the room. Kuroo doesn’t see where the bullet goes as he ducks out of the way.

The gun is still trained on him when Kuroo rolls back onto his feet. There’s more distance between them now. A long blackjack table caught between the two of them. The hitman sneers at him. The gun levels with Kuroo’s chest. His finger pulls back on the trigger.

Kuroo lashes out with his leg. His foot collides with the underside of the blackjack table. It’s thrown onto its side. Two of the four legs lurch off the ground. Balanced precariously like that, the table blocks the bullets aimed at him. Wood splinters upon impact at point blank. Blue and white poker chips fly through the air.

All hell breaks loose.

There are screams in Blue Castle as the other hitmen draw their guns as well. People stumble from their seats on the gambling floor, shoving to get out of the way of gunfire that doesn’t come. Bokuto and Akaashi are faster.

Two of the men are caught off-guard and taken down.

Kuroo doesn’t watch his partners grapple for their guns. His eyes sweep around the room in search of Ikeda. He’s already taken off, racing towards the side door leading out to the alleys surrounding Blue Castle. He spits out a curse. It’ll be hard to catch him if he gets outside.

The hitman across from Kuroo seems to realize the same thing. Still blocked by the table, he trains his gun on Ikeda instead, ready to take the shot.

As the other man fires his gun, Kuroo throws the whiskey glass still clenched in his hand. The bullet smashes into the specially made Saturn Glass which explodes with the impact, delayed by only a second. Shards of glass rain down. The bullet’s trajectory shifts off course; it ends up embedded in the wall inches from Ikeda as he throws himself out the side door.

Before he can take another shot, Kuroo throws his weight against the upright table. It topples onto the hitman, knocking him onto the ground. One of the wooden legs snaps off.

Oikawa is going to be pissed.

Kuroo doesn’t have long to dwell on that. One of the other three hitmen pushes through the crowd. Before Kuroo can grab his own gun, the other man is already halfway out the door.

He makes sure to step on the table as he races after them, knocking the wind out of the man beneath it.

Kuroo throws the door open, letting it bang against the side of the building. The alley is empty. Both men are gone.

“Shit,” he sneers. “Kei, any movement on the west side of the entrance?”

“None.”

He runs to the right.

From what he remembers, this alley leads to a dead end behind the casino. An area sectioned off by the man who owned Blue Castle before Oikawa. They should be trapped there. If not, the wall should at least slow them down long enough for him to catch up.

Kuroo rounds the corner. A bang. He throws himself against the alley wall. A bullet buries itself in the bricks behind where he was standing. Kuroo yanks out his own gun, leveling it with the hitman’s head.

Before he can take the shot, the hitman pulls Ikeda between them, turning his gun on their bounty instead.

“Drop it. Now,” he demands, shoving the pistol against Ikeda’s temple. “Or he’s dead.”

Ikeda inhales sharply, tensing. Wide, terrified eyes try to meet Kuroo’s, but he doesn’t spare the bounty a look, keeping his eyes locked with the hitman’s as his finger hovers over the trigger.

Kuroo’s grip on his own gun is loose. He raises an eyebrow at the threat. “What do I care about that?” he asks. The hitman’s eyes widen. His shoulders slacken momentarily in surprise. Ikeda tenses as Kuroo continues. “He’s dead either way, right? That pool inside is worth more than this bastard is.”

The hitman hesitates, his brow furrowing in confusion. “But you’re a cowboy, aren’t you?”

Kuroo shrugs with one shoulder, gun still pointed at the hitman. “I’m not here to save anyone,” he says truthfully. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as the pistol moves just an inch away from Ikeda’s head. “Besides. You really think you’re faster than me?”

He pulls the trigger.

Blood splatters across the side of Ikeda’s face. The hitman cries out as a bullet buries itself in his shoulder. He drops the gun. Kuroo shoots him again as he stumbles forward, this time in the leg. He hits the ground with a thud and doesn’t move.

Kuroo doesn’t lower his weapon until Ikeda stumbles back against the wall and slides down onto his ass, his legs giving out.

“Thank you,” Ikeda croaks after a minute of silence. His hands tremble as he curls further into the brick wall behind him, and he watches as Kuroo nudges the hitman with the tip of his shoe.

He kicks the man’s injured shoulder when he doesn’t react the first time, satisfied when the man groans, long and low under his breath. Good. He doesn’t feel like dealing with a body today. Too much of a hassle with the paperwork.

Kuroo leans back against the opposite wall of the alley and takes out a cigarette.

Ikeda sucks in a shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he says again before Kuroo can light it.

Kuroo stills. “Don’t.” His voice is calm. Firm. “I meant it. You’re probably dead either way if you’ve pissed off the syndicates.” Ikeda flinches as Kuroo’s eyes finally snap over to meet his. “There’s not much the ISSP can do to protect you from them. You should have known that when you stole almost half a million worth of product.” He laughs at the face Ikeda makes, but there’s nothing humorous about it. “Hell, it might have been kinder to let him shoot you here, compared to what they’ll do after you’re taken in.”

He turns his back on Ikeda, lighting his cigarette. “You guys done inside?” he asks over the radio.

Akaashi answers. “We’re taking these three back to the Cat. Do you need help?”

“Nah, I should be—”

He stops abruptly.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kuroo finds a gun pointed at him again. This time it’s Ikeda holding it.

“Kuroo?”

He wets his lips. “Give me a minute,” he mumbles back.

Ikeda aims the gun at Kuroo’s head, trembling finger hesitating to squeeze down on the trigger. “I don’t wanna die,” he tells Kuroo, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Slowly, Kuroo raises one of his empty hands to his ear, silencing the radio. Ikeda’s hand won’t stop shaking. “You think running away forever is any better?”

By the time Kuroo gets back with Ikeda and the hitman he took out, the others are already lounging around in the common area of the ship. The other three hitmen are tied up on the floor, their wrists cuffed behind their backs. Tsukishima is lying on one of the couches, wearing his headphones as he plays some handheld game, Akaashi leaning against the wall beside him. Bokuto is sitting cross-legged in front of the hitmen. A grin spreads across his face when Kuroo walks into the room.

“About time you got back, man! We were ready to leave without you!”

Akaashi sighs. Ignoring Bokuto, he looks at Kuroo as he shoves the last hitman with the rest. Ikeda, he lets sit on one of the chairs in the room, though his hands are bound in front of him.

“What do you want us to do with them?” he asks, nodding towards the four.

Kuroo crouches in front of them, brows furrowed in thought. “Might as well keep them,” he decides. “I might be able to swindle my guy into giving us a bonus for these bastards. Doubt they’re worth much though.” Shrugging, he stands and stretches. “Ah, well. Guess that’s not our problem.”

Akaashi nods, and Bokuto scrambles to his feet beside him. “Want us to take them downstairs?”

“Keep them separate,” Kuroo tells them. The last thing they need is for one of them to get their hands on Ikeda before they can turn him in.

Bokuto gives him a two-finger salute before he helps Akaashi pull the men to their feet. They don’t put up much of a struggle as they’re herded out of the main area. Ikeda, too, follows them without making a fuss. His face is still streaked with blood, his eyes puffy and red.

Kuroo doesn’t look at him for long.

“You seem to know a lot of people,” Tsukishima comments after Akaashi and Bokuto are gone with the others. He’s still playing his game, but his headphones are down around his neck.

“Must be my sparkling personality.” Tsukishima scoffs under his breath, and Kuroo levels him with a look, catching Tsukishima’s gaze before he can turn away. When the younger man stays quiet, Kuroo narrows his eyes. “You got something to say, say it.”

Tsukishima doesn’t hesitate this time. “Why did you turn off your headset?”

“Now, that’s a secret,” Kuroo tells him, starting to smile. When Tsukishima sends him a blank look in return, Kuroo doesn’t bother to keep it up. “I had business with an old friend. I didn’t need some kid listening in.” It’s the wrong thing to say.

“Right.”

The snappish tone has Kuroo gritting his teeth. “Is that a problem, Kei?”

The younger man rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says, getting off the couch. “The ship is on autopilot to Juno. I’ll be in my room.”

Suddenly exhausted, Kuroo drops onto the couch opposite where Tsukishima was sitting. A soft trilling sound comes from the open hallway leading toward the bedrooms. Kuroo’s head lolls to the side. A small smile tugs at his mouth as a fluffy, black cat pads into the room. Sumi chirps as soon as he sees Kuroo. The cat trots up to him, rubbing against Kuroo’s legs and winding around his ankles. He purrs loudly.

Clicking his tongue, Kuroo pats the seat beside him.

Sumi makes a sound as he hops onto the couch, immediately crawling onto Kuroo’s lap. “What the hell are we gonna do with him, huh, Susu?” Kuroo asks, rubbing the cat’s cheek. Sumi purrs louder, leaning more of his weight into Kuroo’s palm.

Predictably, Sumi offers no answers. Kuroo sighs as he runs his fingers along the cat’s spine, fingers brushing through his long hair.

Closing his eyes again, he leans his head back, thinking about what Oikawa said before. There was a reason he couldn’t have Tsukishima listening in.

He stopped beside Iwaizumi. “There is one more thing.”

“Oh?” Oikawa mused. “And what’s that?”

Kuroo glanced over his shoulder, baring his teeth in a grin that was too wide. Too sharp. “I was never here.”

At his desk, Oikawa arched a brow, chin resting on his laced fingers. An amused smile tugged at his lips. “Of course not,” he agreed easily, brushing off the unspoken threat and pacifying Iwaizumi, whose hand had twitched towards the gun at his hip. “How could you be?” Oikawa continued. “After all, you’ve been dead for three years.”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x oc #hq fics #hq x reader #the smut pile collab

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kaitycole · 3 years

Text

a future with(out) you

Summary: Where do you fit in Oikawa’s life after he says his future is just full of volleyball?

Warnings: Angst to fluff

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Word Count: 1851

A/N: Thanks for the request, @burntpeachie. I hope you enjoy it.

It has been seven years since you started dating Oikawa. Your relationship began the second year of high school, it survived the five years post-graduation that included your four years of college and first year of working while he had spent those five years in Argentina living out his dream. Which was why something didn’t feel right after watching his latest TV interview.

“Oikawa-san, what does the future have in store for you now that you are heading back to Japan?”

He smiled his bright smile, the one that made men and women alike swoon. “More volleyball.”

Volleyball.

If you never heard about that sport again, it would be too soon. Volleyball had consumed your life since the day you met Oikawa and while you love him, while you want to support his dreams, his ambitions, you just thought that he might make more time for you. Maybe if you could somehow turn into a ball made of leather consisting of eighteen rectangle panels, you might get some attention.

The door opens and you smile just a little when you see Oikawa walk in. He had gone out with Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and Iwaizumi since he finally had some free time after having moved back home. He has settled into your apartment effortlessly which just felt right, but your stomach is still in knots after thinking about that interview all day.

“Hi.” You don’t want to be upset, you know he said what he did for a reason, but it still hurt. You have chiseled away a place in your life for him, kept it free from anything else, but it doesn’t feel like he had done the same for you, leaving you to wonder if he ever had or if the place he made for you had gotten filled with something else.

“Hey sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead, sitting next to you. “I’m still not used to this, to knowing that there’s no flight to catch in less than 53 hours and that me being here in permanent.” He rests his head on your shoulder, lazily tracing the lines on your palm with his fingers.

“Speaking of, do you want me to help unpack some of your boxes? I really don’t mind.” You run your fingers through his hair, smiling when you feel him nuzzle his face against your shoulder.

“No, don’t worry about them. It’s fine.”

You bite your lip, once against his simple words shouldn’t bother you as much as they do. Your relationship weathered the storm of long distance, surely it could withstand anything, right? But again, your stomach knots up, doubt sinking in that maybe he doesn’t plan on staying here long. That maybe with his higher level of fame, a larger number of fans, that maybe he didn’t want to fully unpack because he was planning on leaving you. Why else would he need to keep boxes left packed and sealed if he actually planned on having a life with you here?

* * A few weeks have passed since Oikawa moved back to Japan and to say his behavior has been strange would be an understatement. He seems to have gotten jumpy, constantly logging his phone screen, flipping his phone over and even walking into a different room to take certain phone calls. You hate it, you never thought he would cheat on you, but you at least hoped he would be more creative about it.

Today is particular you’re just completely fed up. He woke you up way earlier than you wanted when his phone went off and he literally flew out of bed and into the living room to take it, you kicked on of his still packed boxes and he seems to be in a whole different world. By the time you get home from work, you’re done, done with today, done with his behavior, you just can’t take it anymore.

“Hey, Y/N!”

“Oh, so you do know my name?”

Oikawa stops midway off the couch, half standing, half sitting. “Huh?”

“The last few weeks you’ve been a blur and even when you are here, you are mentally somewhere else or checking your phone.” You roll your eyes as you walk through the living room, dropping your bags on the countertop in the kitchen.

“I don’t follow.” “Do you even want to be here? To be with me?” You cross your arms, face twisted in irritation.

He stands up, walking over to you, “Of course. What kind of question is that?”

“More volleyball. That’s what you said.”

Oikawa is entirely too confused at this moment, trying to figure out when he said that and why you were repeating it.

You watch as he tries to come up with a reply, trying to formulate a response, but you just want to be far away from him. You’ve let this irritation, this anger fester and now it was demanding to come out.

“In your last interview, you said your future held ‘more volleyball.’” You use air quotes, “I guess I just thought I had a plan in there somewhere, but was wrong.”

You watch as his shoulders drop and his expression switches from confused to somewhat heartbroken. He tries to grab out to you, but you slip pass him, grabbing your purse and going back to the door.

“I need some space.”

Oikawa stands there, words jumbled up in his throat as you slam the door shut. He thinks back to the interview and still struggled with why what he said was so upsetting to you.

“What Shittykawa?”

“So rude, Iwa-chan. Is that really how you answer the phone?” Oikawa balances the phone on his shoulder as he starts going through one of the packed boxes.

“Just when you call.” He rolls his eyes when he hears Iwa chuckle. “What do you need?” “Y/N just left, pretty upset. Apparently, my last interview upset them.”

“Well duh. You basically said that your future only held volleyball, you didn’t even mention Y/N.”

Oikawa stops rummaging through the box and is shocked. He never thought of it like that, but in his defense, he was trying to protect you too. High school was rough with the groups of fans he attracted, he didn’t want to think how bad it could get to publicly mention you.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” “Cause you’re a dumbass.” Oikawa rolls his eyes, internally cheering as he finally finds what he’s been looking for. “Wait, you watched my interview? Aw Iwa-chan, you love me.”

“It was the only thing on.” “Why were you up so early?” “Bye Oikawa. Fix things with Y/N or I’ll hit you.”

* * An hour passes before you finally return to the apartment. When you left, you told yourself you’d call some friends, meet up and stay out late, but they were all busy and you ended up just walking around. You found your way into a small shop, the kind that have a little bit of everything before accepting defeat and heading home. It’s quiet when you open the door and dark, maybe Oikawa had left too. That thought hurt you because you didn’t mean it when you said you wanted space, you wanted the opposite, you wanted the Tooru that clung to you, the one who invaded your personal space more than he didn’t.

You’re really surprised when you see candle lit, did you even own candles? You walk down through the living room, kitchen and partially down the hall before you hear the apartment door open, Oikawa coming back in.

“Y/N! You’re home, thank goodness.” He lets out a sigh of relief, “come here.”

Hesitantly you walk back into the living room, sitting next to Oikawa.

“I’m sorry.” He grabs your hands, “I didn’t think carefully enough when I did that interview.” “It’s fine, Tooru.” You watch his eyes light up when you use his given name.

“It’s not, because I’ve not been doing a good enough telling you things.” He takes a deep breath, “I guess I’ve always saw you in my future so I didn’t think it was important to say it. But leaving you to assuming those things aren’t fair to you.”

“Really? You see me in your future?” You bite your lip, tears pooling in your eyes.

“I can’t see one without you, at least not a good one.” He places a hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheek, gently wiping away the tear that slips down it. “I’m sorry I don’t say it enough, but I promise to get better.”

You want to enjoy the moment, to let the love you feel wash over you, but you just can’t drop his recent and borderline shady behavior. “If you want to be together, why have you been acting all weird?”

His face drops and you fear that maybe you caught him in a lie. He fiddles with something in his pocket, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I was hoping to do this another time, but oh well.” He pulls out a small red box, handing it to you.

“I love you and I clearly don’t say it enough, but a life without you isn’t something that I want. Volleyball is important to me and without your support I don’t know what I’d do, but you, Y/N, you are more important to me. If I could redo the interview, I’d say that my future has more of you in it because I don’t have to worry about leaving the country anymore or scheduling phone calls at the most bizarre hours. I guess what I’m trying to say with all of this is, will you marry me?”

“Just one question before I answer, okay?”

“Of course, ask anything.”

“Why have you been hiding your phone?” You fidget with the box in your hand, the velvet material brushes against your fingertips.

“You just love ruining all the surprises, eh?” He laughs, “I’ve been talking to my sister’s friend. She’s a realtor and has been helping me look for a bigger apartment. I know you’ve been here for a while and I wasn’t going to rent anything without talking to you first, but I thought a bigger place might be nice. A place that’s ours especially for this chapter in our life. If you say yes, of course.”

You feel like an idiot, upset with yourself for doubting your relationship, doubting your boyfriend. Tears trickle down your cheeks, Oikawa quickly wiping them away, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” He kisses your lips softly, “I was acting super strange, I’d probably feel the same way if roles were reversed.”

“Of course I’ll marry you.” You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you.

When you pull back, he takes the box, slipping the ring on your finger. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing your ring finger over and over until you start laughing. You smile brightly when his eyes meet yours before he rests his head on your chest.

“Tooru?” “Mmm?”

“I love you.” “I love you too.”

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #hq angst to fluff

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bolbianddolanhouse · 4 years

Text

BNHA self insert AU [Book 3]

New? Read here! Then here!

Chapter 4: It’s Funny, Because It’s True

*deep breath in* hold for 5 seconds...release “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“What the fuck was that for?!” Tensei yelled from his bed “It’s too early for this screaming shit!”

“But it’s Wednesday my dude” I justified as I levitated from my bed “Big things are happening today!”

“Whatever Iwa” Tensei rolled his eyes as he laid back down on his side “I’m going back to sleep because I don’t want to face my day at 5am like a maniac!”

I hummed as I took my time to get ready, taking up all of the counter space in the bathroom. Today I get to know where I land on the intel class ranking and hero class ranking! I really want to know where I’m at because my parents and Lili were up there in the top 10. So who knows where I’ll be!

To recap some lost time...it’s almost 2 months in this bitch and I’ve been worked to the bone with the training. That one classmate still hates me, Gon-kun and I are friends (I guess, if you count screaming my name in passing or when I’m in the bathroom as friendship) and Beizu is still working on the device. Speaking of that device, I’ve been thinking of some dates to peek into to better understand how my mom was as a student. To be quite honest, she doesn’t like talking about the UA days and I want to know why. Also it was kinda adorable that my dad made my mom lunch as a teen, now I wanna know how things were in the beginning for their love story.

“You seem to be very excited to be early for school” commented my dad as he drove “What’s the occasion?”

I get a little flustered “Well uhhh, there’s just a lot things to tackle today” I managed to say.

“You can tell me! Are you going to meet up with a classmate?” asked Dad as they stop at a traffic light “I’d rush to school to meet up with your mom before class.”

“Why?” I asked, furrowing my brow.

“I liked your mom and I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her. I didn’t know it was love until somebody pointed it out” he confessed “She thought I was annoying but I was just trying to get all her attention to get into her heart...if you find someone that you want to be around with always, don’t let go of them like how I did.”

That last part confused me “But you still ended up with mom?”

“Yes, she’s my one and only! But I was stupid when I was teenager” he turned into the main street that passes UA “She slipped right through my fingers and somebody else dated her that seemed like their dream boy. So I didn’t get my turn until I was 23 but I live with the regret that I didn’t tell her sooner. If I did, who knows?! We’d probably have more children or have older children at this point.”

I didn’t say anything the rest of the way to school. I was too busy thinking about the time gap between when they graduated UA to when he started dating mom. That’s like 4 years! Now I’m even more curious on why didn’t he say anything.

“I did the thing!” exclaimed Beizu as he took out the device “want to test it?”

“Sure! We have like, an hour to kill” I got excited “I want to see something.”

I lead them to the hero wing, where the 1-A classroom is. “The hero area?” questioned Beizu.

“Yup, I want to see the day my parents met” I looked around to see if anyone was around to hear “I want to know how it went and who’s story is the most accurate.”

Beizu hands me the device “Here, you can punch in the date on this keypad.”

I look at the keypad “Bei...this is a just a flip phone wired and wielded onto the cube.”

“You try making a keyboard small enough to fit on this!” huffed Beizu “It works just fine, go ahead and try to say I was wrong.”

“Fine, I’m punching it in” I rolled my eyes as I typed in the date “..And- YEET!” I hit the button and the hologram popped up so vividly. I saw young mom walking down the hall, stressfully drinking her coffee.

“Wow, with that hair style, you look just like her!” commented Beizu “She looks so adorable with her little loafers and pink backpack. And that pink coffee cup barely fits in her hand! I just wanna hug her!”

I watch her take a deep breath before opening the door “Dang, I do act like her too.” I keep watching, following her into the classroom “WOAH! Look at those young faces?! There’s Deku! Mr Bakugo and Mr Kirishima! Mr Tokoyami looks pretty much the same...eww I don’t like how Mr Mineta is looking at my mom” I looked at the rest of the class and saw my dad “He’s not reacting to her...then when did he-” my attention shifted to how my mom gave everyone cookies “So the cookies ARE important! Thats so cool!”

“I always thought they were just your mom’s favorite cookies and that’s why your dad made them” Beizu said wide eyed “Your dad is such a romantic!”

We kept watching and then came the after class part “Oop! Look he’s walking up to her!” I watched and followed them to the hallway, where my dad grabs her by the wrist “What the- STOP YOU DUMBASS!”

“What was he thinking?! That had to be so scary for your mom” gasped Beizu “I wanna beat your dad up for this!”

When my mom started crying, that shit HURTED! “Oh no! Don’t cry mom” I felt sorry for her, like she was right here in the present “What a jerk! No wonder mom thought your were annoying, you hurt her!”

“Lets follow him!” Beizu pointed at my dad walking down the hall, toward the stairs “I want to know what he did after!”

We followed him down to the old garden, and that shit looked neglected back then!

“What is he doing?” I said as I saw him take out a little notebook and pen from his inner uniform pocket “writing something?”

We watched him write a list of things but the top of the list was ‘ask Tensei how he made friends’. And the other things were ‘ask for her number’, ‘ask what’s her favorite food’, ‘don’t talk about her quirk’, ‘oatmeal cookie with chocolate chips?’. But what puzzled us was the last part he wrote ‘I want to be friends with Palma-san, she seems really nice but she looks lonely and tired. Maybe I’m too scary looking? Too rough? She’s so small compared to me, perhaps I should be more gentle.’

Beizu and I looked at each other “What in the actual fuck?” I broke the silence.

“So like, did your parents not want to admit they didn’t have a good start?” Beizu questioned “I just assumed it was love at first sight.”

“No, my dad told me he didn’t date my mom until his twenties” the image paused, then fizzled away “Now I want to know why! We know the start and at some point they had lunch together at the tree.”

“Ooh! What if your mom had a harem!” Beizu gasped as we walked to homeroom.

“Nah, she doesn’t have the heart to have a group of lovers that serve her” I scoffed “she hates it when my dad reaches something for her without asking! It was probably a long term boyfriend that got in the way.”

Now that I really think about it, I never heard my parent’s love story! Or if my parents dated other people before they eventually did. I wanna ask somebody for the answers, but who?

“...Take a look at your ranking class!” the sound of Hansai sensei’s voice broke me out of thought.

“Look! I’m in the rank below you!” Beizu pointed out to me.

I look, I’m 6th in the class ranking! Better than I thought!

“You may take all of the rest of homeroom and weaponry to work on your projects” Hansai announced “Master Oleshin had agent work to attend to of high priority.”

“Oh dang, we only have her for 2 times a week” Beizu pondered “hope everything is okay.”

“My mom had to leave very early this morning too, not surprised aunty Mimi isn’t here either” I responded as I flipped to the class packet “If we do our things right, we’ll be done 3 weeks before this is due.”

“That sounds about right” Beizu palmed the device in his hand “wanna look into a different time?”

“Yuh! Lets go to that one creepy hallway” I suggested. We briskly walked to the area, mainly because that’s near where the 3rd year intel students hang out and they’re scary. We stood there and Beizu handed me the device. Without saying anything, I punched in a date.

“What year is this?” asked Beizu as the image showed us a plain looking hallway.

“It’s still our mom’s first year, I just put a date where it would be after the sports festival but before my mom’s practice exam” I say as I watched all the students from the past, pass by like normal. Then something caught my attention “Wait, that’s my mom.” She was...smiling? She just looked happier here and excited to be somewhere? We followed her to the outside patio “Wha- who’s that?”

We watched my mom run up to this tall boy with yellow hair. And they held hands as they walked toward the front gates.

“The scandal! Hand holding with that boy?!” Beizu said to stir the pot.

“Shut up! I wanna hear what they’re saying” I shushed him as I strained to hear.

“...you don’t have to walk me to the dorms!”

“I want to! I’m your boyfriend now...”

“You’re too sweet!”

“Not as sweet as you”

The gasps Beizu and I made when we saw them kiss were unholy and something out of a novela.

“I wish I knew who that dude is!” I growled to myself “he looks familiar!”

“Yo, speaking of familiar” Beizu said as he pointed my head to the far right.

“Oh no” I said in pity, looking at my dad looking from behind a tree “Poor thing, he probably waited for her to walk together.” I watched as my dad sat on the ground and started crying like he was heartbroken. It was kind of hard to look at but at the same time, I know what happens at the end! “I don’t know why my dad didn’t take the chance?! If I found somebody like that, I’d tell them that I like them so they don’t go around like that with other boys.”

Beizu looked at me “I mean...do you have feelings for somebody?”

“What? No, er- At least, not right now” I stammered, taken off guard “Who has time for love when you get mountains of homework like me?!”

The hologram fizzled away “Come on, you can tell me! I’ll tell you who I like.”

“I’m telling you I don’t have a crush on anybody!” I fumed, trying to keep my voice down “serio, and it’s not because I find everyone around me not attractive! It’s because I’m kind of scared to have a crush now that we’re in hero school. Like, what if I’m making a big mistake and repeat what my mom did? Or what my dad did? You saw that they’ve slow burned for YEARS! I want to be sure I’m in love before I jump in. So I just decided to just start dating after high school.”

“But what if you meet them here?” meekly asked Beizu.

“Doubt, but all I can say is that I hope they’re direct” I start walking back to the building “I’m not down for that tsundere shit.”

“True that” Beizu chuckled, following after me.

When I had my hero courses, I saw that I was number 15 in the ranking....ouchies. Guess I have a hell of a lot of training to do if I’m going to be above average. Who knew that I can’t rely on my family history?

“Yo! Iida-kun!” shouted Gon, chasing me after school “I have to ask you something!”

“Okay sure?” I was confused on why it was so pressing to where he had to chase me.

“Lets train together! This weekend?” Gon practically begged “I know it’s Wednesday and we see each other everyday BUT I wanted to ask so you wouldn’t make weekend plans.”

“Oh geez...I guess!” I threw my hands up, giving up the protest before I could start “I know if I said no, you’d just pester me until I said yes. And to be quite honest, I need the extra training” I sighed “I wanna move up to the top 10 in the ranking.”

Gon’s face lit up “Oh my gosh you said yes?! I’D BE HONORED TO HELP YOU MOVE UP IN THE RANKS!” he exclaimed as he held my hands “I won’t disappoint Iida-kun!”

Now mind you, there’s people watching as they pass. And a group of girls from general ed fawned over the display.

“It- its NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!” I panicked “N-no need for this whole display! Gon-kun, please...you’re embarrassing me!”

“Oh right! Sorry” he let go of my hands “it’s just that, nobody has said yes to training with me. I’m kind of a spaz and I don’t have friends here. Everyone in my circle in middle school didn’t want to go to hero school” he said sadly “But you and that pink haired dude look like close friends, it makes me a little jealous that you have a friend in the same program as you.”

My big brother senses kicked in...damn it! I feel bad for him and I GUESS it won’t kill me to have him as my friend in this class.

“Oh me and Beizu? We go way back!” I confirmed his theory “Our mom’s are friends too! I see him as my brother and he’d think you’re a cool dude.”

“Really?!” his face looking like he was about to cry “I’d love to meet him sometime...OH and tell me tomorrow what day and time you wanna train on the weekend!” He turned the opposite way “See you tomorrow!”

I waved him off and went to the intel wing to meet with Beizu. Man did not expect hero school to be like some shit out of a manga.

-The next day, Homeroom-

“...everyone’s here, time to announce the next assignment!” Hansai sensei announced “We’re going to do incognito training!”

To spare you of the fuckery Hansei sensei just explained to us...we doin’ drag for TWO WEEKS starting Monday, just so we get the feel of going undercover out in the field. Beizu and I aren’t as excited, it’s bad enough we get confused for our moms, now we have to look MORE like our moms?! Wonder what my mom is gonna do when I tell her?

“I LOVED THAT TRAINING!” squealed my mom when I told her at home “I had a blast being a dude and I kept my male persona after graduation because it was THAT good.”

“I don’t remember you doing that” my dad spoke up “did you do it when you were at the other school?”

The face my mom made went from confusion to big confusion, to ‘are you serious?’ to stifling a laugh.

“Tenya? Are you for real?!” uttered mom “You didn’t catch on to what was going on that week?”

“No...was I supposed to?” dad asked, completely oblivious to what my mom was saying.

“Oh my- well I’m not surprised, seeing how you straight up showed up at my place and begged me to come back” Mom smirked, with a twinkle in her eye “maybe this will trigger your memory” she slid her finger over her molar implants to switch on her voice changer. She cleared her throat before speaking “YO! It’s ya boi, Takeshi T’boone, American bastard! Come here and gimme some sugar!”

I was trying not to laugh at her impersonation but then I looked at dad’s face and he looked like he shit his pants.

“YOU WERE T’BOONE?!” He hollered as he did his fast chops “Why didn’t you reveal yourself to me?! I literally talked poorly about you when we went to the cafe!”

“I thought it was obvious” she responded with the T’boone voice “did you not get it the moment you saw the other two?”

“That one girl and that scary looking male?” asked dad, things still not clicking.

“Yea...that was Jin and Mimi”

“But, the quirk-”

“Copied somebody else’s quirk before going to our class” mom giggled, still in the male voice “Guess I was just that good! You have a lot to work to put in Iwata!”

“Hehehe, it’s like having two dads” I giggled “Okay then, I think I got my story straight! Thanks...Mr T’boone.”

“That’s Mr American Bastard to you!” joked mom before watching me run off to my room “As for you! Do you feel tricked?”

“It’s like you’ve lied to me! Your best friend and love interest!”

She playfully pushed him “Oh shut up! I thought you were annoying.”

“I know, I guess it was obvious when you mentioned the other two” dad chuckled, then turned red “umm, you don’t so happen to remember-”

“The texts? The arcade? Oh hell yea” she finished his sentence “I was touched, kinda made me wanna kiss you.”

Dad turned even deeper red “I had a chance?”

“You’ve had a chance since I told you the secret” she hopped a bit to kiss him “is it not enough we’re married with children? Or that I love you so much?”

“It’s more than I could ever imagine” he kissed her more passionately “...can you change back to your normal voice now?”

“No, you married me, Takeshi T’boone! American bastard and Husband!” she flexed her arms “We’re just two dudes, in a domestic partnership! GAY RIGHTS! I love my power bottom husband!”

“Can y’all not be discostang!” yelled Hanaka “I’m right here!”

I got to work on my story and my name, trying not to be too on the nose. New name is Tati Masarati and my daddy owns Masarati Luxury Vehicles, making me an heiress! I’m at UA to scope out a husband/next up and coming hero to promote the next line of vehicles. My quirk is something to do with my voice...yea, I haven’t figured that one out but heres to winging it! My mom allowed me JUST THIS ONCE to use her luxury and designer clothes. I was so obsessed with my mom’s Gucci collection as a child that I’d throw a fit over not getting a Gucci item in my closet. So the only things Gucci I have are the iconic slides and frosted frame glasses. I got all of the pretty dresses that fit my engine arms and two other outfits. Uncle Jin let me borrow his auburn hair wigs...which at first surprised me to see so many wigs in his walk in closet BUT then I remembered that he’s also an agent. Of course he has a bunch of wigs and women’s clothing. I did some shopping with Beizu after school on Friday to find other things like make up, color contacts and (believable) boobs. I could hardly contain myself to show myself at school, got Uncle Jin to drive me in his luxury car at a certain time on Monday.

“Wow who did your make up?” asked Beizu.

“I did” I flipped my hair “Took a while to nail the eyeliner BUT check out the nails~”

“Sparkly!” fawned Beizu “Oh! Can you check if I put my wig on right, and my lashes...and my boobs.”

“I got you homie!” I started to fix his boobs and wig.

The whole class got their voice changers and the level one earpieces, which mom warned that my ears will get blackheads with them no matter what I do. It was so hard to find a voice to stick with! But I settled for that husky, dangerous woman voice...because why not? Mr Hansai notified Mr Mineta ahead of time of my drag and they confirmed that they won’t give away that it’s me. I’m literally itching to test out my persona! At around lunch, Beizu and I were just minding our business when we got the attention of a few boys. Not gonna lie chief...that felt kinda good to get their attention, rather than a bunch of girls at us.

“Class, meet your temporary classmate” sensei introduced me “She’s just going to observe for the next 2 weeks.”

“Ciao everyone, don’t mind me” I gave my best Jessica Rabbit impersonation “I don’t do all that training stuff, I’m just scoping out for the next up and coming hero.” I turn to sensei “Do I sit there?”

“Yes, go on ahead and take a seat.”

“But that’s Iida-kun’s seat?” protested Kage-san.

“Iida won’t be here for two weeks” sensei fixed his papers “He’s at off-campus intelligence training. He’ll be back, don’t worry.”

“I got some dirt on him” I said as I sat down “heard he’s a rich boy too! In line for the family assets and he’s got two quirks! If only I could see that in action.”

Everything went well...until the end of the day.

“Excuse me! Miss!” called out Gon, chasing me down the hall.

“Yes?” I turned around, hiding my panic because I didn’t think he’d approach me.

“Umm, oh this is embarrassing, I forgot what I was going to say” he said nervously “I didn’t get your name!”

“Tati Masarati, heiress of the Masarati company” I held my hand out “and you are?”

“I’m Ryuusuke Gon!” he bowed fast “I’ve never met an heiress before, must be interesting.”

“Yup- I MEAN” I caught myself slipping character “It’s a drag, I can’t go anywhere without a chaperone! You’re so lucky to be strong enough to just go off on your own like that.” I had to quickly pull something out of my ass because I was not breaking character NOT OVER THIS!

“Then, may I escort you to the front gates?” he said extending his arm “Can’t have you going by yourself! I’ll protect you until you get picked up!”

“Thank you doll” I cooed and internally cringed.

Before turning into the main hall, Gon said “You smell pretty.”

“Oh thank you! It’s Gucci” it’s not but he won’t tell the difference. I spot Beizu and I call out to them “Babylonia! Yoohoo!”

Beizu turned around and tried not to laugh “Oh hey Tati! Who’s your slam piece there?”

“Oh him? He’s my classmate” I said with so much restraint “Isn’t he just a doll? He’s walking me to my chauffeur” my eyes were screaming at Beizu to help me “How was your day girl!”

“GIRL! My BAMBINA! It’s boring” Beizu played along “I just want to leave and go get my nails done.”

“Hi, I’m Ryuusuke Gon” nervously uttered “Ummm are you friends with her?”

“I just met her but we’re both heiresses” he for sure pulled this out of his ass because that’s not part of his story “charmed to meet you! And may I say what a specimen!” he reached out to touch his bicep “Manners AND strength?! You struck gold Tati.”

“BACK OFF HE’S MINE!” I jerked Gon away “I mean- he’s not something to oogle at!” I watched our ride drive into the pick up area from the corner of my eye “Oh look! Our ride Babylonia!” turn to Gon “Thanks for the company doll” I caressed his chin with my hand “see you tomorrow~”

He didn’t say anything as we fast walked to the car.

“What happened to you two?” asked my mom with concern.

“I HATE being a girl!” I huffed as I struggled to take off my bra “It’s a little fun tricking the boys but why do guys just do shit for the pretty ones?!”

“Welcome to my world” laughed my mom “it’s only day one, hope you last.”

“We started drama” chirped Beizu.

“Oooh spill the tea Babylonia!”

Kinda wish it stayed as a one time slip up BUT then came the next day...

“Ooh, look at you Tati!” teased one of my intel classmates “a boy with black hair and gray eyes asked me to give you this.” they hand me a note with my fake name misspelled on it “He asked if I was in your homeroom and got all flustered when I said yeah. Wish I was as passing as you!”

I get the note and start to nervous sweat “Oof this is bad Beizu” I groaned “like what am I supposed to do?!”

“Maybe read the note?” he said before reapplying his lip gloss.

I open it and read:

Mazeratea-sama,

Meet me in the old garden, near the hero wing. At lunch. I want to spend more time with you and be friends.

-Gon

“Bei I think he fell in love with me”

“GOOD! It’ll look like you have a seduction quirk” he said as he checked his face in a pocket mirror “Isn’t that the one thing you don’t have figured out?”

“You know what, you right” I gasped “You can have the brain cell today.”

“I’ll even feed you lines through the earpiece” he added “just because I know you’ll croak under the pressure.”

“You’re my savior Bei!”

I think of ways to steer the conversation as I walk to the old garden. It looks very lush and lively nowadays than it did when my parents came here. Heard it was leftover of the high school that was here before they turned it into UA.

“Over here!” called Gon, waving me down.

I walked over to him “I got your note~ did you miss me doll?”

“I wanted to spend time with you” he gestured to the stone slab bench “allow me to make you a clean seat” I watch him put a handkerchief on the bench “there, so your skirt won’t get dirty!”

I sat down and set my bag next to me “Thank you doll~ why are you being so good to me?”

“Well, I don’t know why but I’m drawn to you” he admitted “I’ve never felt like this before, almost like it’s your quirk.”

Beizu speaks into the earpiece “Say the line bitch!”

I clear my throat “Well that’s because it is!” I give him my best innocent face “my quirk is Seduction, I can make anyone do my bidding or convince them into anything with my voice. Upside, I don’t have to ever lift a finger to do anything! Downside, I don’t know my limits and many accidentally fall in love with me.”

“Oh...” he blushed hard and looked away “does that me I’m-”

“Sorry, I really am” I cringed “I didn’t mean for you to get sucked in and you fell in love with me. I just didn’t expect you to chase me after school yesterday.”

“...What’s going to happen now?” Gon asked me after a long silence.

Beizu whispered “Tell him it’ll take 4 days to wear off completely.”

“Give it four days and those feelings will fade away” I smiled when he looked at me again.

He perked up “And if they don’t?”

“Then those were your own feelings all along” I took out my food “But enough about all that mess, lets eat!”

“I brought you something” he took out a small Tupperware from his bag “I didn’t know what you liked but I figured maybe you’d like some fruit.”

He set it on my lap “Oh? You didn’t have too-”

“I wanted to, because I have feelings for you” he choked on that last part of his sentence, like he didn’t want me to hear them “but I guess if it’s an after-affect of your quirk then I guess it’s not as meaningful.”

Beizu snickered in the earpiece “Oops you made him fall in love, F in the chat! But open the thing, I wanna see!”

I carefully open the lid and it was lined neatly with chocolate dipped strawberries “Oh wow! These look professionally made!”

“My parents have a small sweets shop in Taito and I got the nicest looking berries from this morning just for you” he smiled but then looked down at the ground “You don’t have to accept it or eat them if you-”

“They’re so good!” I exclaimed out of character “erm, I MEAN- ummm” I got red “please don’t tell anyone but I really try to put up the rich girl front to match my status, I’m just a spaz. And I love dark chocolate, thank you doll~”

Beizu cut in again “Save me one! I wanna taste of this drama!”

Gon just turned red like a strawberry “You like it?! I’ll bring you more!”

“No please! I’ll pay for them from now on!”

“This is getting out of hand!” cried out Beizu in my ear.

What in the actual fuck did I get myself into? So much for getting by and being chill. Everyday is some new fuckery that I didn’t ask for.

-Chapter 4, End-

#bnha #mha #self insert au #book 3 chapter 4 #not canon #will update regularly #ask me anything #//Palma-sama Speaks #Yes...Iwata is a break the fourth wall type character and I love him!#Here he starts to peel back to reveal the past in a few important glimpses #and you know I had to bring back the incognito training back! It's important to character development on both Iwata and Beizu #So many callbacks! Basically Book 1 chapters 1-5.#Wheres the fun if I don't add the 'accidentally falls in love with your genderbent self' trope?!#The amount of bad bitch vibes they give in this drag personal is *chefs kiss* like it should be #More to come! Stay tuned to find out about Gon and Iwa!

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frenchibi · 7 years

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Day 1: College / Immortality

IwaOi Week one two three four 5 6 7

When Hajime wakes, it's with an unexpected but welcome warmth curled into his side.

He's a little dazed, trying to connect the feeling to a memory that feels too far away, to something that's safe, comforting, familiar. There's this smell, too, that makes Hajime want to sink back under the covers and inhale, breathing in the calm that it brings.

He shifts, eyes fluttering open when his leg catches on something that feels distinctly leg-shaped as well.

There's soft light breaking through the blinds, and Hajime blinks for a moment, disoriented in this unfamiliar room. But it's so warm-

And slowly, it's coming back to him.

A whole bunch of moving boxes, three of which are still stacked against the wall just at the edge of his line of vision. The bed that took way too long to put together. Falling asleep in an exhausted heap without even bothering to change their clothes.

His eyes focus on the shape he's got his arms wrapped around, warm and real and here, chest rising and falling with slow breaths.

It's more on instinct than anything else that Hajime curls in further, burying his face in soft brown curls.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

With a smile on his lips, he lets himself drift.

The second time he wakes, it's to soft pressure on his hands; fingers pressing into his palms, drawing small, absent-minded shapes and swirls.

He curls his fingers ever so slightly, and the movement stops.

Weight shifts, the bed dips, and suddenly he's blinking up into chocolate brown eyes.

"G'morning, Iwa-chan," Tooru says, with a smile that really isn't fair on someone who just woke up.

"Hey," Hajime says back, voice raspier than he might like. He wraps his arms a little more tightly around Tooru's waist, pulling him close.

"...sleep well?"

Hajime blinks, stifling a yawn. He knows his nose scrunches up, because Tooru immediately brings up his finger to poke at it.

"Like the dead," he mumbles, before pretending to bite at Tooru's hand. The setter giggles and pulls it back, and Hajime smiles. "How about you...?"

"Mmh, fine," Tooru says, nuzzling up against his chest, hair tickling Hajime's chin. "I think I like this new arrangement. Don't you?"

Hajime shifts to press his lips to Tooru's forehead, allowing himself to bask in the warmth that's growing in his chest, filling him with a giddy sort of energy.

“Yeah. It’s... nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

Tooru is silent for a second - then he pulls back almost violently with a gasp that's a little too loud to be completely genuine, bracing himself above Hajime.

"Iwa-chan!"

Hajime blinks up at him, slow and maybe a little too comfortable.

"Hm?"

"You- you can't just say something that sappy and romantic without warning?!"

He sounds honestly offended, but the wide grin on his face is a dead giveaway.

"...'s true though," he says, trying to play along by making it sound defensive - judging by Tooru's expression, though, he's not doing a very good job of it.

Stupid sappy thoughts, honestly.

It's too early to pretend to be annoyed.

"Nooooo," Tooru groans, half of the word getting muffled when he buries his face in the crook of Hajime's neck, dropping his weight back on top of him. "You're too cute!"

Hajime scoffs, bringing his arms up around him even as he tries not to laugh. "I'm cute?"

"I hate you," Tooru grumbles, and Hajime pulls him closer, lifting his legs to wrap around him as well.

"Sure you do."

"I mean it!" Tooru says, but even he's losing control of his fake-indignation in favor of chuckling.

"...hm, yeah, very convincing."

Hajime flips them over so they're lying side by side again, mattress creaking under their weight. His eyes sweep the room - it's still so bare, they should probably repaint the walls before putting up Tooru's stars - and find their way back to him. (Always, always back to him).

He must have the grossest, sappiest smile on his face because when Tooru cracks open an eye to look at him, he actually blushes. Adorable dumbass.

"Iwa-chan," he says again, but it's softer this time - and when he leans in for a kiss, Hajime is right there to meet him.

#iwaoiweek2017 #iwaoi #my writing #drabble #I was gonna write full fics but then life happened lmao sorry guys #but I have a lot of feelings and I'm 99% fluff so HAVE THIS #hq #day 1: college #(I guess)

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findingschmomo · 7 years

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[MatsuHana] The Coolest Cake

Title: The Coolest Cake Pairings: MatsuHana, Iwaoi Rating: T [just swearing] Genre: FLUFF, LEGIT JUST FLUFF

Links: AO3

“How the fuck are we supposed to make a cake good enough for Miyagi’s Top Bakers of the Spring Season?"

Or, what happens when Hanamaki and Matsukawa have to design a cake for Iwaizumi and Oikawa's wedding.

Note: This is a prequel to my other bakery au fics. You can find the whole series here. It can be read by itself though.

It happens without warning, but Matsukawa and Hanamaki share a glance as if to say, we should have known.

It was Iwaizumi’s idea. To close the bakery for a five day weekend and have a summer trip down to Enoshima. A celebration of the growing business, of their growing friendship, of their recent spot in the paper. Fun in the sun, an excuse off work, a fun hangout with friends. Who could say no to this?

“Oh my God he’s crying.” Hanamaki whispers, inching closer to Matsukawa’s side as the scene unfolds in front of them.

So, last Thursday, they closed up shop and flipped a sign on Seijoh Sweets, announcing to the public they would be back Tuesday morning to sweeten their lives once more. And all four had piled into a bullet-train down to the southern spot, excited by the impromptu vacation.

We should have known.

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi says, voice soft and rough, eyes glistening as he looks up at the taller man, so much taller now that he’s on his knees.

Matsukawa’s eyes are open wider than Hanamaki’s ever seen them, and he’s known the man a good five years now.

Oikawa has his hands on his face, but the muffled, “Yes?” still passes through the gaps in his trembling fingers.

Hanamaki’s toes squeeze into the sand he’s standing in, and part of him wonders how much Iwaizumi’s bare knee must be hurting in all that grit. If it does hurt, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I have spent my entire life, except for my first month, with you by my side, and -“

“And the time you left me for three weeks and didn’t tell me,” Oikawa interrupts, interjects, because the man can’t keep silent for even the smallest amount of time.

“Oh my God.” Hanamaki breathes out again, and Matsukawa looks at him with a stifled laugh on his lips.

“I went to camp! I was seven!” Iwaizumi snaps instinctively, an age old argument resurfacing as his voice raises. Oikawa giggles in response, hands falling from his face as he relaxes, shoulders less tense. He bites his lip now, eyes wet and bright and shining. The light of the setting sun catches him and he is glowing. And Iwaizumi is the only thing he sees, and Oikawa is the only thing Iwaizumi sees, and it seems as if they’ve lost each other in the space between their meeting eyes.

Hanamaki has half a mind to cough, for them to get on with it, but he’s too caught up in it too. Feels his fingers dig into his palms in anticipation as his hands rise up to his chest. His arm brushes along Matsukawa’s as he does so, and he feels a shiver. He’s not sure if it’s his friends’ or his own.

After an eternity, Iwaizumi speaks again, voice soft, “Tooru,” he starts, hand reaching up to take Oikawa’s own, “I have spent almost my entire life with you, and I never want to stop. I love you, have loved you since my dog peed on you when you finally moved in next door to me.”

Oikawa lets out a laugh, but it’s choked, and he’s reddening a little, and his grip on Iwaizumi’s hand is as tight as can be.

Iwaizumi reaches into his pocket with his free hand, revealing a slim but dazzling ring, adorned with white diamonds and one small light blue one in the center. Oikawa makes another sound, in the back of his throat, eyes leaking down his face.

“Tooru, will you marry me?” Iwaizumi asks, quiet, smooth, but with a hint of uncertainty. And Hanamaki wonders how he could have any doubts at all about his partner’s response.

Oikawa is nodding before the question is completely out of Iwaizumi’s mouth, hand pulling the man on the ground up into a fierce hug. His long fingers cup Iwaizumi’s face and pull him into a crushing kiss, hands slipping to circle around his neck. Iwaizumi’s shoulders are trembling, shaking, and when he pulls away he’s laughing.

“Hold on, dumbass,” Iwaizumi laughs, “I haven’t put the ring on!”

Oikawa keeps kissing his cheeks instead, one after another as he peppers the shorter man’s face. Iwaizumi keeps laughing, light and high, like he’s entered another plane of absolute giddyness, “Do-Don’t! Stop! You’re, you’re gonna make me drop it!” He pleads.

Oikawa gives him a final kiss on the lips before taking a step back and offering his hand in an almost dramatic fashion. Iwaizumi takes it, sliding the ring up his fourth finger before squeezing the hand in his own. Oikawa lifts his face again, to kiss him, deeper and more sensual, and Iwaizumi practically melts into him.

There’s some cheers from other beach goers, and Iwaizumi seems to flame up from the attention. It makes Hanamaki laugh, which is a good way to release his emotions out from the whole scene.

“Congrats!” he shouts, “And thanks boss, for getting us separate hotel rooms!” He calls with a snicker. Iwaizumi shoots him the middle finger. Hanamaki can’t stop grinning.

Matsukawa nudges him, showing his snapchat open on on his phone. It’s replaying a ten second clip of Iwaizumi’s proposal on loop. Superimposed is the caption, Yo do you think they’re dating??? and Hanamaki loses it, laugh bursting from his chest as he clutches Matsukawa’s bicep to keep him standing.

“What are you laughing at!” Oikawa calls, hands wrapped around Iwaizumi still.

“Send it, send it before they stop you!” Hanamaki manages to say between giggles.

Oikawa’s eyes squint, “What are you sending?”

“Congratulations!” Matsukawa responds instead, holding his arms out and moving closer to hug the pair. “You’re going to get married! You’ve grown up so fast!”

Hanamaki joins the hug as well, creating a perfect Oikawa-Iwaizumi sandwich, “Remember, use protection, we don’t want any happy accidents before the wedding.”

At this point, the happy couple start squirming in the shared grip, unamused. Matsukawa and Hanamaki respond by tightening down their prison, “Unless, is someone already pregnant?”

“Shotgun wedding.” Matsukawa lets out with a gasp.

“Let us go!” Oikawa whines, “We’re both guys!”

“The thought of Oikawa pregnant is literally nauseating.” Iwaizumi adds with a grimace.

“Hey!” Oikawa snaps, “I can pull off any look and you know it.”

The fact that Iwaizumi doesn’t respond, grosses Hanamaki off enough to loosen his grip. He takes a step back and makes a gagging noise and motion toward Matsukawa. In the interim, the couple are able to release themselves.

“Congratulations,” Matsukawa repeats, and it’s a touch more serious, with his smile soft and his eyes shining and Hanamaki can’t help the matching smile on his own face at the sight.

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi says, and now he’s smiling too, wide and uncontrollable. And if Iwaizumi’s mouth is a smile, Oikawa’s is a dazzling full face grin.

“Take our picture! I need to post this on my insta. My sister is going to freak out.” Oikawa suddenly orders, fumbling with his phone.

Matsukawa takes the phone, pulling out the camera app as Oikawa and Iwaizumi pose, “Wait, Iwa-chan, get on your tiptoes so you don’t look so short. Ow! Don’t hit me! That’s spousal abuse now you understand? Stop! Iwa-chan you’re blocking the ring! Come on!” He turns toward Matsukawa with a stern look, “Make sure we look handsome. This picture has to be perfect.”

“Yeah, already got it.” Matsukawa responds, flipping the phone back to reveal a selfie of him and Hanamaki, making kissey faces at each other with the caption: We’re engaged! #LoveIsBeautiful #RelationshipGoals.

“What the hell Matsu-chan! Did you post this? I’m deleting it!” Oikawa grouches, tapping away at his phone quickly.

“He was just taking the most handsome picture possible like you asked.” Hanamaki supplies, giving Matsukawa a subtle and supportive fist bump on the side. Oikawa rolls his eyes, shoving his phone into Hanamaki’s hands.

Oikawa fusses over Iwaizumi’s posture another moment, but Iwaizumi lets him, and it’s kinda disgusting how loving his gaze is, how placid he is. The light is leaving fast, but finally Oikawa smiles at the camera and Iwaizumi absolutely grins into it when Oikawa doesn’t look at him.

“It’s perfect!” Oikawa shouts, wrapping the man in a hug once more, “Iwa-chan! You’re smiling! Look at that! When you smile you can’t see all your forehead wrinkles.”

“Yeah yeah, just hurry up and post it.” Iwaizumi sighs, “Let’s go grab dinner.”

They’re on the bullet train back to Miyagi. Iwaizumi has fallen asleep on Oikawa’ shoulder. Snapchats have been taken of his open mouth and drooling face. But in the newfound quiet, Oikawa turns to his companions, a serious expression clouding over his face, “Hey, we...We want you to be our best men.”

“Holy shit.” Matsukawa breathes out on reflex.

“And,” Oikawa continues, “we would love it if you could make us a cake.”

“Holy shit.” Hanamaki hisses in response.

“Will you?” Oikawa asks, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa turn to each other mirroring helpless eyes because there’s no way we can say no to this.

“Yeah.” Hanamaki swallows.

“Of course.” Matsukawa agrees with wider eyes than normal.

Oikawa beams at them, and his phone rings, “Yes? Ne-san! How many times do we need to talk this weekend? I can come visit home next week. Yes, ok, I know-”

The conversation dies in Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s ears because they’re too busy looking at each other, “How the fuck are we supposed to make a cake good enough for Miyagi’s Top Bakers of the Spring Season?” Hanamaki whispers.

“We’ve been setup to fail.” Matsukawa replies solemnly.

“I can’t believe we’re getting fired.” Hanamaki sighs, fingers ruffling through his short hair.

Matsukawa lets his hand pat down the stuck up hairs, in an almost delicate fashion. Hanamaki blinks, looking over at him. Matsukawa removes his hand awkwardly, but says nothing about it. Instead he speaks up, “I guess we have to give it our all.”

Hanamaki sinks into his seat, “Sounds like effort,” he bemoans.

Matsukawa snorts, “Unfortunately,”he agrees with a smile.

Hanamaki feels his stomach flip, probably from the train. He lets his hand wander up to touch his own hair again, soft and curious.

He swallows.

Matsukawa dumps his overnight bag in the entryway of Hanamaki’s apartment. He crouches down, unlacing his shoes and leaving them beside Hanamaki’s smaller pair. He steps out into the hall, catching Hanamaki’s wave from his place in the living room.

“Alright. It’s game time.”

It’s been a month since the proposal. A month of watching the sickening sweet spectacle of two idiots deeper in love than before (and they honestly had thought that wasn’t possible). A month of catching them kissing in the office, a month of Iwaizumi saying nice things about Oikawa, a month of Oikawa gushing uncontrollably.

A month of pure nightmarish anxiety as Hanamaki and Matsukawa try to think how the hell they’re gonna make the perfect cake for their best friends.

A month until some calming words, We want a spring wedding. Maybe sometime in April or May.

And Hanamaki and Matsukawa look at each other with the shared glance, Oh thank God, we have time.

“I stole this catalogue from the office.” Hanamaki mentions, motioning to the thick volume resting on his low table. He’s sitting crosslegged on a cushion, and Matsukawa decides to join him by his side, pressing tight against him to get us much cushion as possile.

Hanamaki is having none of it, “Get you’re own cushion.”

“I’d crush you if I sat on you,” Matsukawa replies easily, “Thanks for the invitation though.”

Hanamaki laughs, “That sounds more like a threat,” He reaches behind him to grope for a throw pillow, hitting Matsukawa lightly on the arm as he hands it over.

“Devastating hit,” Matsukawa comments, deadpanned.

“That was only 40% strength. Be warned,” Hanamaki says.

Matsukawa lets out a chuckle as he slips the cushion beneath him, “K, let’s crack this bad boy open.”

They spend hours flipping through the book, from one tiered cakes to seven tiered cakes, from all white to monochrome to rainbow, spitting out dumb idea after dumb idea.

Eventually, after eating about twenty leftover cookies from work they find themselves sprawled along the floor, book completely abandoned.

“What if: Beach themed. Cover it in sea shells. Since they proposed on the beach.” Matsukawa says, spreading his arms out wide as he talks.

“Too predictable. Oikawa has to have something unique or he’ll die.”

“What if we just print out a picture of Oikawa’s face on fondant and call it a day?”

“I’m sure Iwaizumi would love to dig a knife into that.”

Matsukawa lets out a sharp laugh, “Oikawa would kill us.”

“That’s how most of these scenarios seem to end.” Hanamaki sighs, “Ok, picture this: Giant Rainbow Cake.”

“No.”

“And just the words ‘Welcome to our Gay Wedding’ plastered on every tier.”

Matsukawa snickers again, trying to quiet himself down with his hand. Hanamaki turns his body so he can watch him, finding the way the other man trembles in the moonlight fascinating. He’s too tired to analyze why he thinks this.

“I don’t think either of them would appreciate that.” Matsukawa comments.

“Ok, so now they both hate the idea. Isn’t that progress?” Hanamaki offers.

Matsukawa can’t help but grin, “Yeah, I guess you can say that.” He turns his body to the side as well so he faces him, “Lets just put a dick on it.”

Hanamaki blinks before he crumples into shocked laughter, “Fuck, of course!”

“They’ll never expect it!”

“It’s definitely unique enough!”

“It would blow up on instagram!”

“That’s a check in every category, isn’t it?” Hanamaki sighs, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, “Who’s dick though?”

“Well, I guess it has to be both of theirs. Right?” Matsukawa shrugs, and then his eyes get a little wider, and his hands start moving as he talks once more, “We could even have one wear the ring. Like, a cock ring, but it’s their wedding ring. That’d be adorable.”

“Interesting word choice,” Hanamaki grins, but his eyes sparkle as he watches Matsukawa talk, and he can’t help breathing out, “I have never seen you more passionate.”

Matsukawa turns to him with a series face, “Penis fills me with passion.”

Hanamaki absolutely loses it, curling up on the floor to a guffaw of laughter and Matsukawa can’t help but join him in it. Because it’s absurd. This whole conversation is absurd.

“Now I’m imagining their dicks wearing a suit and wedding dress.” Hanamaki cries. He’s somehow found himself, using Matsukawa’s stomach as a pillow as he clutches his own. His abs are aching.

“Fuck, that’s perfect.” Matsukawa agrees, “Oh man, I hope Oikawa wears a dress to the wedding.”

“Are you kidding me? I hope Iwaizumi wears a dress.”

Matsukawa’s hand wipes at his face, “Shit you’re right, that’s like, ten times better.”

“I think they should promote us to general wedding planner. We’ve got the talent for it.”

“Definitely. I mean, we’re crushing it.”

They fall into silence as they catch their breath from the laughing fit, staring up at the dark ceiling of Hanamaki’s home. Hanamaki feels Matsukawa fall and rise as he breathes, and the rhythm is oddly soothing. He feels his eyes start to droop close, as if he’s being rocked to sleep.

Matsukawa seems to sense this and sits up, watching as Hanamaki’s head is forced to roll onto his lap. Hanamaki glares at him through sleepy eyes.

“We should sleep.” Matsukawa says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, probably.” Hanamaki sighs, sitting up.

Matsukawa gives him a lazy smile, and Hanamaki looks away. He feels too loose at the moment, too free, and there’s a redness creeping up his neck he’d rather not have his friend see. Matsukawa gets up to fall back down on the couch.

Hanamaki takes the hint, standing up and throwing his blanket onto his guest. Matsukawa lets out a grunt, “You’re so hospitable.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes, and then takes a cushion from the floor, delicately running his fingers through Matsukawa’s long hair. It started as a joke, but he hadn’t expected how soft the locks would be under his fingers. How delicious the feeling. He feels his heart quicken.

Matsukawa is staring at him.

Hanamaki refocuses on what he had planned to do, lifting Matsukawa’s head to slip the cushion underneath, “Is that more to your liking?”

Matsukawa hesitates, for a second, and it’s so un-Matsukawa like that Hanamaki can’t help but notice. But then Matsukawa looks away, toward his own feet and replies, “What, no good night kiss? Worst hotel service ever.”

“I don’t know what kind of shady hotels you’ve been sleeping at,” Hnamaki snorts, “But that definitely costs extra.”

Matsukawa laughs, and Hanamaki turns to step into his bedroom in the other room, calling out a friendly good night.

When he slips into bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling he starts thinking about the dick cake again. How would they even make Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s dicks? They’d need some sort of reference. They’d have to get their dick pics somehow. How would that conversation go?

Maybe the could just use their own dicks on the wedding cake.

Hanamaki decides this train of thought needs to be derailed, right now, before he starts trying to figure out what Matsukawa’s dick would even look like (probably big right? the guy’s tall as fuck) and yeah. It’s bed time.

He finds it hard to fall asleep.

He thinks about good night kisses.

Matsukawa yawns into his hand as he sits around the table in the back office of the bakery. It’s early in the morning, and normally he would be spending the time making bread with Iwaizumi, but instead he’s been called into an impromptu meeting.

He glances over at Hanamaki, unraveling his long pink scarf from his neck. His nose is red. It’s cute.

Matsukawa looks back over at Oikawa, standing over the table, “Iwa-chan and I have been talking.”

“Always a bad sign.” Hanamaki say.

Iwaizumi sends him a look, its the this is serious, take it seriously look he reserves for business talks. Hanamaki quiets down. Matsukawa wants to pat his shoulder to acknowledge his good joke. Validate it. But he remains still.

Oikawa continues, “We’ve decided we’re going to hire two new employees.”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki blink, glancing at each other as if to say shit are we fired?

“No one’s getting fired.” Oikawa supplies, knowingly, because the guy can read any expression off of anyone. “We just need more help.”

“Ever since that article about us got published a few months ago, our orders have been blowing up, and this spring is only going to get crazier, especially with everything else going on,” Iwaizumi explains further, “It just makes sense to prepare now.”

“Plus, with the extra hands we can focus on other things too. Like growing our internet presence like you’re always saying Makki-chan.”

Hanamaki nods, mind already working through all sorts web strategies to grow the busines.

“We’ve already written up a job posting, we just want you both to look it over before we send it out.”

“The Great King, the Top Baker in all of Miyagi, wants our humble opinion?” Hanamaki gasps.

“We’re honored.” Matsukawa agrees, bowing his head deeply.

“On second thought, both of you are fired.” Oikawa decides, before he slides the job position papers down for them to read.

In the next few weeks, Seijoh Sweets is flooded with applications, and most of Oikawa’s days are spent interviewing candidates. Hanamaki usually tags along with him. Iwaizumi is strictly forbidden on the grounds of him being way too nice.

“Thought I’d never hear those words from you.” Iwaizumi points out.

“You’re only nice to other people. Never me. It’s very cruel Iwa-chan.”

“I’m the co-owner of the bakery, I have a right to be in these interviews.”

“Iwa-chan it took you four days to notice when I completely re-arranged the living room last month. You take everyone at face value. You’re useless in there.”

“You’re too judgmental. You hate everyone on sight. That’s unfair.”

“I do not!”

Oikawa is too judgmental. He finds something to hate in every single candidate that steps into his office. Even Hanamaki finds it abnormally harsh. He’s glad he’s already in Oikawa’s circle of trust because it’s a brutal entry process to go through.

They’re currently interviewing another possible candidate, third one of the day. He’s plain looking, with boyish brown hair. He’s stone faced and still. All the other candidates have been fidgety and nervous, but this young man keeps staring straight ahead.

It’s the only thing that makes him stick out. He’s very boring otherwise. Hanamaki has already forgotten his name.

“Why do you want to join Seijoh Sweets?” Oikawa asks.

“I want to learn and improve as much as I can. I remember when this store was a hardware shop. I have seen this place grow into the establishment it is today under your care and its truly inspiring.”

It’s a boring answer, Hanamaki thinks.

“Your portfolio is quite beautiful. What’s your favorite thing to make?” Oikawa continues.

“Oh, uh,” And the boy’s plastic face seems to crack, and he looks down to the side with an embarrassed smile, “I really like making sugar cookies.”

How...unimpressive, Hanamaki thinks.

“And why is that?” Oikawa asks, and he’s leaning in, eyes sharp and attentive.

“They’re so simple, but they’re a really fun blank canvas. I can spend hours decorating each one differently with different intricate designs. Sometimes I just get lost in them.” The boy replies, and it’s almost shy, but soon he straightens up and his face becomes neutral once more.

Oikawa stands up with a smile, extending his hand out to the candidate, “Yahaba Shigeru, I would love to offer you a position here at Seijoh Sweets.”

Hanamaki and Yahaba both gape at him.

Yahaba recovers quicker, shaking the hand firmly, “Thank you very much, Oikawa-san. I promise I won’t let you down!”

After the boy leaves through the office doors, Hanamaki can’t help but ask, “Why?”

“He’s a hard worker, Makki-chan, and he has passion. I see potential in him.” Oikawa replies easily, flipping through the resumes to dig out the next candidate’s.

“You could say that about any of the others.” Hanamaki counters.

“Could you really? It shined through his eyes, Makki-chan. He’s going to do great things. I know it.”

Iwaizumi slides them each a cup of tea from the pot he’s made, and he offers Hanamaki the answer he’s searching for, “It’s because he makes sugar cookies and Shittykawa has to be the best at everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Matsukawa asks, sitting down beside Hanamaki.

“Iwa-chan’s favorite thing in the world is sugar cookies because he’s boring and has no sweet tooth.” Oikawa explains, “And he fell in love with me after I baked him the greatest batch of sugar cookies in middle school.”

“They were burnt. But he drew bugs on them with icing so I couldn’t really resist.” Iwaizumi lets out a gruff sigh.

“So you hired him to challenge him to a bake off?” Hanamaki blinks.

“And because he has great potential.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes at Matsukawa, who smiles behind his cup of tea.

By late December, Watari Shinji has been hired and the new team is complete. Matsukawa ends up taking over the training process, and Hanamaki finds himself working on setting up a professional website. It means they’re both fairly busy, and kept in separate parts of the bakery the entire day.

It’s weird, not having Matsukawa around him constantly to make sarcastic comments to. It’s weird finding a funny meme during some downtime and not being able to flash it at him. It’s weird not hearing his laugh echo in his ears all day.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, as he comes into the office, “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Fifty dollars.” Hanamaki says automatically, and he half expects an added jab from his partner in crime. But Matsukawa still isn’t there. Hasn’t been there for a while now.

“Take off work next Friday with Matsun.” Oikawa says.

“...Wait, you want me to just take a vacation?” Hanamaki repeats slowly, “Yeah, I’ll do you the solid.”

“No, not a vacation.” Oikawa sighs, “Don’t tell Iwa-chan, but I’m planning to propose to him then, and I need your guys’ help setting up the apartment to surprise him.”

Hanamaki blinks, “Oikawa.” He says seriously, taking the man’s hand delicately in his own. Oikawa squints at him distrustfully, “I hate to break this to you but,” Hanamaki continues with a heavy sigh. He lifts the man’s hand up, revealing his engagement ring, “You’ve already been proposed to.”

Oikawa swats his hand back, “I know. But I haven’t proposed to Iwa-chan yet.”

“Isn’t this a bit overkill?”

“He won’t expect it. And I want to see him cry.”

“I’m really feeling the love.”

“Iwa-chan can’t resist my romantic charm. I have so many great ideas. I just need help decorating the place while we’re at work. Will you do it?”

Hanamaki thinks a moment. An excuse to take off work and spend the entire day with Matsukawa, dicking around in Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s apartment. Sounds like a blast.

“Yeah, fine, I’m in.”

Oikawa clasps his hands around Hanamaki’s own, a grin dancing across his face, “Have I ever told you you’re one of my top four employees?” Hanamaki snorts, but Oikawa just grins wider, “I’ll leave everything in a box under my side of the bed. I’ll hand you a spare key the night before. Don’t tell Iwa-chan anything.”

“Aye, aye boss.” Hanamaki nods, “Now can I be released? I need to let Matsun in on the mission.”

Oikawa releases him, giving a little salute, “God speed.”

Hanamaki finds Matsukawa at the front of the bakery, fiddling with the cash register. A sheepish looking Watari stands by the counter, twisting his little cap in his hands.

“Matsun. Got a minute?” Hanamaki calls, resting a hand on the counter across from him.

Matsun frowns, a rare sight, and doesn’t look up, “One sec.” He mumbles.

“I’m sorry!” Watari babbles, “I don’t know what happened-“

Matsukawa waves him off, leaning down to peer closer into the cash register.

“What’s going on?” Hanamaki asks, stretching across the counter to take a look. His legs stretch out behind him for balance. He looks a little silly, but part of him hopes Matsukawa will look at his ridiculous pose and slip on a smile.

Matsukawa doesn’t turn his head, pulling on the bottom drawer of the cash register, which appears to be stuck.

“The cash register won’t open,” Yahaba supplies from his station by the window. Hanamaki looks back over at him. He’s got his window rag in hand. Hanamaki hadn’t even noticed him.

“Have you tried hitting enter.” Hanamaki offers.

“A thousand times.” Matsukawa huffs, squinting his eyes further.

Hanamaki hops onto the counter, swiveling his legs around to get to Matsukawa’s side. He jumps back down and nudges him away with his hip. He tinkers with the machine, poking at it in seven places at once in a flurry of fingers and jabs. Finally, he slams his fist at the head of it, watching it vomit the bottom drawer up immediately.

“How!?” Matsukawa cries, hands going up to muss with his own hair. His cap falls off in the process but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve got magic fingers.” Hanamaki grins, fingers wiggling in the air.

“Revered throughout all the lands.” Matsukawa agrees, eyes shining. Hanamaki feels his ears start to heat up and looks away.

“Thank you so much Hanamaki-san.” Watari quickly murmurs, bowing his head deeply.

Matsukawa pats the young man’s head, “That’s Hanamaki-sama to us mere mortals.”

Hanamaki gives a sharp grin, and he hopes the redness climbing up his neck doesn’t show through his shirt collar.

“Incoming.” Yahaba interrupts, unceremoniously, making the trio look over.

A man bursts in through the doors, with short black hair and a panicked look in his eyes. He wears a black button down and an orange barista apron, emblazoned with a crow insignia. Hanamaki and Matsukawa wave.

“Sorry to burst in,” he apologizes, a little winded, “Do you have a mop we could borrow?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa share a glance as if to say I wonder what business will replace them across the street next?

Matsukawa gives a half smile before looking over at their fresh hire, “Watari, go grab the mop from the storage closet. The one by the bread stacks.”

“Big mess to clean up?” Hanamaki asks with a raise brow as the young man scampers out of the room.

The man runs a hand through his hair and forces on a smile, “Just a little mixup between two employees. It should be resolved soon enough. Lost a mop and a few mugs in the process.”

“Scary.” Matsun comments.

The man shakes his head, “It was an accident. Nothing we can’t handle.”

Watari returns soon enough, mop in hand, offering it to the man who bows deeply before rushing back across the street.

“Who was that?” Yahaba asks, watching the man go.

“Daichi. He recently bought the cafe across the street.” Hanamaki explains, pointing at the ‘under new management sign’, “He’s inherited quite a lot of problems.”

“I swear that place used to be the best place to grab a cup coffee in the tri-state area, but they’ve really gone down the past few years.” Matsukawa supplies.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki agrees, “They lost a lot of customers to the cat cafe that opened up about a block away. They’ve been struggling ever since.”

“They’ll need a miracle to recover.” Matsukawa nods grimly.

“Huh,” Yahaba says, glancing back over at Karasuno Kafe, “I had no idea.”

“The more you know,” Matsukawa announces, gliding his hand up in an arc. Hanamaki lets out some oohs and aahs for added effect. With that, Hanamaki pulls Matsukawa to the back by his wrist.

“Speaking of things you need to know,” Hanamaki starts, “One, you dropped your hat. Two, you’re taking off work next Friday to hang out with me.”

Matsukawa bends down obediently for Hanamaki to secure his cap back on, “I am?”

“Yep. Put it in your calendar. January 4th. I’ll explain more later.”

“Hey, no need to convince me to take off work to spend time with you.”

Hanamaki finds his hands lingering in Matsukawa’s hair a bit longer than necessary.

“I can’t believe you’ve manipulated me into breaking and entering.”

“I thought we were ride or die bros. You’re questioning this now?”

Matsukawa lets out a laugh, opening the door wide once Hanamaki manages to unlock it with the spare key. He reveals the clean apartment before them that had been host to many a drunk gathering in recent years. It had been a while, though.

The two men venture inside, stepping out of their shoes politely before making their way to the bedroom. “This is where the magic happens.” Matsukawa comments.

Hanamaki snorts, elbowing him in the side, “I wonder which side is Oikawa’s.”

“Yeah, either the one with the night stand covered in color coordinated planners or the one with nothing on it but an old Sports Magazine. Truly the ultimate puzzle.”

Hanamaki ducks down to peer under the bed on the planner side, pulling out a cardboard box labeled, Iwa-chan is FORBIDDEN.

“The funniest thing is that this would work. Iwaizumi’s too respectful of that shit to mess with it.”

“True.” Matsukawa chuckles, pulling off the lid to reveal spools of ribbon, masking tape and a pile of photos, “Holy shit, it is a lot.”

“We gotta cover the whole living room.” Hanamaki reminds him of Oikawa’s precise instructions, “Make it as nauseatingly romantic as possible.”

“Iwaizumi’s going to die.” Matsukawa murmurs.

“Can’t wait to see it happen.”

They get to work, carrying the box back over to the living room and setting it down on the table by the kitchen. They sit across from each other, grabbing photos and taping strings of various lengths to their backs before setting them aside. They’re mostly quiet, with Hanamaki’s spotify softly playing from his cell. It makes it a nice kind of silence, a soft kind of silence.

Occasionally, they interrupt the peace to show off an especially funny or embarrassing photo. A picture of Iwaizumi crying at the age of six, clinging tightly to Oikawa’s arm. The image of Oikawa and Iwaizumi showing off their missing teeth to the camera. Oikawa in a cardboard crown and curtain for a cape, standing proudly atop a table, with Iwaizumi standing beneath him, with a cardboard sword, beaming up at him. Oikawa screaming while Iwaizumi shows off a beetle in ajar. Oikawa and Iwaizumi kneading bread as young teens, covered in flour. Selfies upon selfies once they reach high school. Oikawa and Iwaizumi showing off their culinary degrees from rival universities.

An absolute lifetime of memories documented meticulously by attentive parents and the vainest (sweetest) man alive.

Hanamaki wonders if, maybe, these two could just save a bit a love for the rest of the world. Does love need to be aged like a fine wine to be this sweet?

He flicks his eyes up at Matsukawa, chewing on his lip a little.

Is a five year bottle of wine really that cheap?

He’s sure it has to appeal to someone.

“Crazy how they haven’t killed each other by now.” Matsukawa comments, glancing at the last picture in the pile. It’s the one Hanamaki took in August, in Enoshima, moments after the proposal.

“Iwaizumi is a man of great self control.”

Matsukawa looks over at him, and his eyes seem to linger a moment before he gets up. “Time to hang em all up?”

“I’ll guide you, Giraffe man.”

The next few hours are spent placing the dangling images all around the room. Matsukawa easily tapes the strings to the ceiling. Hanamaki manhandles his hips as he pushes and pulls him to the best spots possible. Fingers dig into the skin revealed every time Matsukawa reaches his arms up high. It’s an intimate dance around the room.

“That’s the last one.”

“I can’t believe they’ve known each other since they were fetuses.” Hanamaki shakes his head, removing his hands from Matsukawa’s side, regrettably. “Practically fetuses.”

“I can’t really imagine them apart though,” Matsukawa confesses, gaze lost in one of the many photos slowly spinning in the room.

Hanamaki hums in agreement. It’s true. The two are so entwined it’s impossible to think of them ever going their separate ways. Even when they went to separate universities they managed to live together.

“I miss you.” Matsukawa says, suddenly, out of the blue, eyes still distant.

Hanamaki swallows, blinking up at him, “What?”

Outside there’s a loud shrill voice that fills the air, “Iwa-chan! We forgot the other bag in the car! Go get it!”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki straighten up as Oikawa sprints into the room and closes the door behind him. The brunet’s eyes widen, bright smile enveloping his face, “This place looks amazing!”

“Fifty dollars.” Hanamaki demands, stretching out his hand.

He is ignored. “He’ll be up here any minute. Quick, duck behind the couch. Oh and! If you could record this that would be fantastic.” Oikawa orders, waving at them quickly. Hanamaki and Matsukawa obediently find themselves crouched behind the couch, bodies close and touching. And Hanamaki really wishes he could ask Matsukawa about this missing him business when he hasn’t gone anywhere. But he supposes, there’s a time and place for everything.

Oikawa shuts the lights off and scampers to kneel in the middle of the room. Plunged into darkness and sudden silence, the trio hold their breaths as they hear footsteps ascend the stairs.

“Trashykawa, you could have at least left the door open. This bag’s heavier than it looks,” they hear Iwaizumi complain through the door as he turns the knob, “Why are the lights off?”

Iwaizumi flicks them on and drops the grocery bag to the floor, green eyes wide.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa can see him clearly, but they can only see Oikawa’s back. They have to assume the kneeling man is grinning.

“Stop-“ Iwaizumi starts, eyes running along the walls, jumping from photo to photo before resting on Oikawa’s form.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Oikawa starts, and there’s a tremor of a laugh in his voice.

“Don’t-“ Iwaizumi chokes, taking a step into the room. He’s red, bright red. So red they probably need to invent a new shade to account for it, Hanamaki thinks.

“I have never existed in a world without you.” Oikawa continues, a little tremor in his voice, “And I know I never wanted to not. I begged my mother to have us move next door to you, and look at all the memories we’ve made since then.”

Iwaizumi isn’t looking. He’s covering his face.

“And I want to make a thousand more,” and Hanamaki and Matsukawa can actually feel the shit eating grin radiating from Oikawa’s mouth just from the tone of his words, “Hajime, will you marry me?”

Iwaizumi won’t budge from his rooted spot, and he shakes his head. Oikawa lets out a laugh, standing up, “No? You won’t marry me? Iwa-chan are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Iwaizumi snaps from between his fingers, “I mean, yes, of course. Of course I’m marrying you, dumbass! God. This is, this is too much.”

Oikawa pads over to Iwaizumi, carefully taking his hands in his own and letting them slip from his wet face, “You’re so weak, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi kisses him, “You’re fucking embarrassing.”

“Congrats!” Matsukawa shouts from the couch.

“Got that double combo proposal streek!” Hanamaki complements.

Iwaizumi looks like he wants to die, “How long have they been there!?”

Oikawa kisses his cheek, slipping the ring onto Iwaizumi’s hand while he’s distracted.

The idea comes to Hanamaki in late February, as he watches Matsukawa knead bread with what seems like his entire upper body. He was snacking on one of Yahaba’s test cookies, purple and gold and green crowns artfully decorated them in preparation for Mardis Gras.

“I’ve got it!”

“Got what?” Matsukawa asks, flicking his gaze over.

“Stay in the bakery with me tonight.” Hanamaki orders instead, “We’re baking a wedding cake.”

Matsukawa raises a brow, but a grin grows on his face, “We really doing this?”

Hanamaki raises his eyebrows, once, twice, before leaving to head back into the office. Matsukawa watches him go, the smile slipping from his face as he turns to the dough in his hands. He squeezes it, watching it slip through the gaps in his fingers. Always in reach, but escaping. He sighs.

The day passes smoothly. Iwaizumi and Oikawa argue over catering services and dietary choices for their wedding. Yahaba and Watari decorate their first cake for order under Matsukawa’s tutelage. Hanamaki browses through facebook, downloading pictures to his desktop as he goes. Customers come in, orders are taken, pastries are delivered.

“Don’t forget to lock up!” Iwaizumi calls from the front door as Oikawa and him depart. Hanamaki gives them a peace sign as a response. Matsukawa rests his elbow a top his head, earning him a raised eyebrow.

Matsukawa looks down beneath heavy eyelids, “So, you gonna tell me your master plan?”

“Follow me.” Hanamaki orders, stepping away from being an arm rest in order to lead the way to the office. Inside he takes his long sketch paper and unfurls it along the table. He keeps his arms outstretched on the bottom two corners to keep from rolling up again. Matsukawa joins him, placing a long arm on the top right corner to help, body pressed against Hanamaki’s own. Hanamaki juts a hip back jokingly (flirtatiously) but makes no further comment, “What do you think?”

It’s a sketch of a simple three tier cake. It’s white with a light blue beaded trim along the edges. Delicate light blue vines climb up the layers. Sugar cookies have been inserted around the top of each tier, standing upright and facing outward. There’s a note beside one, and Matsukawa has to lean closer to try to read the fine print. It puts his face dangerously close to Hanamaki’s, who decides to be helpful, reading, “Each cookie is decorated with a reference to some gross couple thing that’s happened to them. A la Oikawa’s proposal.”

“Genius.” Matsukawa murmurs, and his breath tickles at Hanamaki’s cheek.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” Matsukawa agrees, straightening up, much to Hanamaki’s dismay, “One addendum, however.” Hanamaki hums, turning around to look at him. “We gotta put a dick in it somewhere.”

Hanamaki snorts, “Secret penis?”

“Secret penis.”

They start working on the batter, giving snide remarks as they whisk and mix. They glide around the bakery with practiced ease, dividing and conquering. And once the cake has finished baking and they’ve placed it in the fridge to cool, the bring out the sugar cookies to the icing station.

“Now we get creative?” Matsukawa asks, aloud.

“I’m thinking for the real deal we can have Yahaba and Watari help us out.”

“Family bonding,” Matsukawa agrees, picking up some green icing, “I’m going to draw Godzilla on this one.”

“Good luck,” Hanamaki laughs, grabbing his own cookie, “This one’s going to be beach with a diamond ring.”

They both realize, very quickly, that there is a reason they leave the fine decorating details to Oikawa (and now Yahaba). They’re absolute crap when it comes to free hand. Godzilla is more of a scraggly lizard, and the beach is but some blue squiggles with a white circle for a ring.

It’s hilarious, to be quite honest.

“I think we just need fuel, is all,” Matsukawa decides with a laugh, “I’m gonna order a pizza.”

“Do not put pineapples on that shit.”

“I’m putting pineapples all over that shit.”

Half an hour later they’re sitting out front. Hanamaki has perched himself on the counter, pizza box (half pineapple, half without) sitting beside him. Matsukawa has dragged over a chair, and each have a gooey pizza in hand.

“Cheers?” Matsukawa raises his slice.

Hanamaki taps his own on it, “Cheers.”

They both take a bite, and then another, and silence fills the darkened bakery. But it’s not uncomfortable, it’s soft, and it just, is.

Hanamaki watches Matsukawa as he eats his slice, cheese sticking to his lips. He follows up the curve of his cheekbone to his heavy eyes and feels a giddy feeling building in his chest. He lets out a chuckle. Matsukawa glances over at him with a raised eyebrow. Hanamaki laughs a bit louder, “You’ve got icing in your brow.”

Matsukawa blinks, snorts and leans forward. Hanamaki gets the hint, licking his own fingertip to dab away the spot. He smooths the brow back down, fingers slipping past to dig into the lush, thick black hair. Matsukawa hums.

Hanamaki pulls away, “I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m here.” Matsukawa mutters with a small smile.

“Can I say something?” Hanamaki asks, louder than he needs to, flicking his eyes up at the ceiling. He doesn’t really wait for a response, nerves making his tongue work faster, “I’m honestly shocked we haven’t drunkenly made out yet.”

Matsukawa almost spits out his pizza at the comment, but the pizza is too good to waste. He swallows instead, looking back over, “Really?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be my in.” Hanamaki sighs, keeping his gaze.

“Your in?” Matsukawa repeats.

“Yeah, we were gonna be drunk one night, and drunkenly kiss and have our couple awakening and than be grosser than ten Iwaizumis and Oikawas combined. So much romance and love that no one would want to be near us.”

“Damn.” Matsukawa breathes.

“But we still haven’t made out yet.”

“We’ll we don’t drink as often as we used to.” Matsukawa concedes, “But may I add? It’s been scientifically proven you don’t need to be drunk to make out.”

Hanamaki lets out an exaggerated gasp, “What? Prove it.”

And so Matsukawa does, tugging Hanamaki down by his apron strings, pressing their lips together for the first time. Lips molding to one another, a sudden fervor of action as Hanamaki squeezes Matsukawa’s shoulders, bunching up the fabric of his pinstripe shirt. Matsukawa’s hands slide up the slim bands of the apron, sliding up behind Hanamaki’s neck, making him shudder. With his hands behind Hanamaki’s head as an anchor, he tilts his own face.

They kiss deeper, pulling apart for quick breaths before diving back in, hungry but not desperate. Like savoring a dinner slaved over for hours and hours (or years and years). Deeper and deeper, until Hanamaki’s legs have wrapped lazily around Matsukawa’ hips, and Matsukawa’s leaning almost completely over the counter, covering every inch of Hanamaki with himself.

And it’s warm, and it’s good, and it’s here, and it’s now.

When they finally pull away, Hanamaki can’t help but brush the hair out of Matsukawa’s eyes, “See, we should have been doing that forever ago.”

“I guess we make up for lost time then?” Matsukawa replies, and Hanamaki laughs, pulling him in for another kiss, and another, and another until the pizza is so cold and the cake practically frozen.

The next day they unveil the cake.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi absolutely love it.

“I love sugar cookies.” Iwaizumi smiles.

“Are these our memories? That’s perfect!” Oikawa praises.

And then they cut them a slice.

“OH MY GOD.” Oikawa screams.

“What the fuck.” Iwaizumi hisses, as Matsukawa and Hanamaki proudly show off their creation. The cake, once sliced, reveals its vanilla interior and secret penis shaped blue center.

After picking themselves off the floor from laughing so hard the pair agree to keep the real deal safe for work.

“Hey, boss, can we come in?” Hanamaki knocks, on the door lightly, Matsukawa right behind him.

“Yeah!” Oikawa calls back, and the pair enter the dressing room.

Oikawa looks back at them, dressed pristinely in a white suit. His blazer hangs on a hook beside him. He has his tie hanging loosely around his shoulders, in the process of cuffing his sleeves.

“Damn.” Hanamaki hums.

Oikawa laughs, “I know.” He gives a wink, “I look amazing in white.”

“What a humble bride,” Matsukawa murmurs with a grin.

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, “That’s groom, thank you very much.”

“Do you need any help?” Hanamaki offers, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“You can tell me if my tie’s crooked once I do it,” Oikawa waves off, turning back around to look into his mirror, “Weren’t you going to be with Iwa-chan?”

“He kicked us out,” Matsukawa shrugs.

“He was freaking out. He didn’t want anyone in the room,” Hanamaki sighs leaning back.

“Iwa-chan hates crying in front of people,” Oikawa supplies with a small smile, “He’s so cute.”

Matsukawa makes a gagging action at Hanamaki.

“You seem calm.” Hanamaki points out.

Oikawa glances over at them with a piercing gaze, “I work great under pressure.” He flicks back to the mirror, “You could go help my sister with seating people. Or work on your speech.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Matsukawa mentions, “How funny would it be if I proposed to Makki at your wedding?”

Oikawa freezes, whirling around to them, “Don’t you dare ruin my day!”

Hanamaki laughs into his hand, “Our day.”

Oikawa huffs, “You’re not even dating!”

“Who says?” Matsukawa blinks, stepping a bit closer to Hanamaki.

Oikawa blinks, hands falling slack by his sides, “Wait...what!?”

“Well,” Hanamaki begins, “We’re definitely not not dating.”

Oikawa’s eye twitches, squinting at them, and then he hears his sister shout from down the hall and shakes his head, “I don’t have time for this. I’m getting married!”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa both share a laugh and a friendly fist bump, that leads to their hands entangling into each other behind their backs while Oikawa turns away.

And they do get married. And Iwaizumi cries the whole time, and Oikawa laughs the whole time and Hanamaki and Matsukawa definitely don’t cry.

At all.

But they do give a speech, and they don’t propose but they do make out a couple of times while the happy couple dance. Overall, it’s a pretty sweet wedding.

And the cake is pretty good too.

#matsuhana #hq #iwaoi #haikyuu!!#bakery au #ENJOY #long awaited prequel LOL #my shitty fics

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kaitycole · 4 years

Text

tacenda

Tacenda: [noun] things better left unsaid

Summary: The Aoba Joshai boys head to their old manager’s wedding, only concern is that she’s also the ex-girlfriend of former setter, Oikawa Tooru.

Warnings: ANGSTY. Mentions of drinking.

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader (past tense)

Word Count: 2135

A/N: This was inspired by Lil Dicky’s Molly. I recommend watching the video or at least listening to the song! Some of the opening dialogue is from the video as well.

** The last two lines are lyrics from the song**

“I just can’t believe you’re actually going.” Matsukawa says, shifting slightly in his seat.

“I was invited.” Oikawa lifts up his collar and drapes his tie around his neck.

“Yeah, but she probably didn’t expect you to show.” Hanamaki shrugs, “I mean it would’ve been pretty awkward for all of us to get one and you not too.”

Oikawa doesn’t reply, he stares at himself in the mirror for a while trying to steady his hands. Or maybe it was his heart he wanted to calm, it was almost beating out of his chest.

“Have you seen her today?” Matsukawa asks, prompting a scold from Iwaizumi who hadn’t spoken the whole time.

“You cool? You good?” Hanamaki seeing Oikawa’s hands shake from a small distance away.

“It’s gonna be a pretty intense moment; her walking down the aisle.” Iwaizumi finally speaks, making eye contact with his friend’s reflection.

“You see, he’s already fumbling with his tie!” Hanamaki jokes, causing a small smirk from Matsukawa.

Oikawa sighs, it was his fourth attempt to tie the damned thing and he was contemplating just not wearing one. “I think I’m executing it just fine, thank you,” he finally pulls the wide end of the tie to tighten it before flipping down his collar.

“He’s in his head.” Matsukawa says as Hanamaki’s words overlap them, “Are you gonna vomit?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes, “I’m so happy to have such a supportive group of friends.”

“You good though? You’re not gonna cry?” Iwaizumi looks at his friend again, making direct eye contact this time as he turns around to face the group.

“You’re an insufferable group of people.”

“Seriously though, we can leave anytime.” Matsukawa says.

“Can you just tie your ties and act like adults so we can get there on time?” The smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes, Iwaizumi knowing he wasn’t as okay as he tried to appear.

“Alright, you heard him. Five minutes and I’m leaving.” Iwaizumi says, leaving the room to get the car ready.

* * Hanamaki and Matsukawa are arguing over the radio as Iwaizumi threatens to pull over and make them walk the rest of the way to the church. But Oikawa doesn’t hear anything, he’s been absentmindedly scrolling through old pictures of the two of you. It’s been five years since you all graduated from Aoba Joshai and three since your break-up, but he just couldn’t delete your pictures.

Maybe it’s because a piece of him thought that you’d be back together by now; starting the clock back to where you left off before he had left for Argentina. Over the last few months, he found himself looking at the photos more often than he had in the last few years. Tears prick the bottom of his eyes before he blinks them away.

Matsukawa glances over, a straight lipped smile on his face before looking in the rearview mirror at Iwaizumi, shaking his head. Iwaizumi matches Matsukawa’s expression, almost as if silently agreeing that neither understood why Oikawa was putting himself through this.

* * When they arrive, they all head into the chapel, but not before Hanamaki cracks a joke about whether or not Oikawa could actually walk into a church. They all sit together close to the front, Oikawa standing right at the edge; right where you’ll walk passed him.

Once the bridal march begins to play, everyone stands up. Hanamaki and Matsukawa glance back, but Oikawa keeps forward; waiting until you walk by to look at you. His hands are still shaking, his palms feel clammy as he can almost imagine your footsteps getting closer.

He’s instantly hit with the familiar scent of your perfume; a mix of peony and vanilla. Closing his eyes, he relives the first time he ever met you.

Oikawa hadn’t noticed you sitting on the bleachers until the coach ended practice ten minutes early, motioning for you to join the team. He couldn’t place you at all, looking at Iwaizumi who just shrugged.

“This is the new club manager. I expect everyone to welcome her.”

You smiled, “Hi, I’m Y/N, I’m a second year and just transferred here. I look forward to working with everyone.”

One by one, the team introduced themselves to you before heading off to the locker room to change and leave. Oikawa was the last one.

“I’m Oik—” He started but you interrupted him.

“Oikawa Tooru, the one with the fan club, right?” He turned about ten shades of red, trying to find the words. “Uh, well, uhm…” You laughed, “I ran into them outside. They seem lovely.”

He stared at you, it was as if all the words he’d ever learned had disappeared.

“I should get going. See ya tomorrow.” You turned with a wave, leaving Oikawa speechless as you exited the gym.

“…let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Oikawa is brought out of his memories; his three friends holding their breaths as they look at him. Hanamaki and Matsukawa had secretly placed bets on whether or not Oikawa would speak up. His shoulders drop as he lets out a sigh, seeing the look on your face as you look at your future husband. Matsukawa won the bet.

He didn’t make it a point to remember his name, all he really knew was that you had met him on your way home. You had both walked into a store you had never been in before to grab something random, neither of you could remember what it was now and the rest was history.

It wasn’t until about a year or so ago that while out with Matsukawa, Hanamaki and Iwaizumi that it was brought to Oikawa’s attention you were engaged. That’s when Matsukawa mentioned his job along with other things; he and Hanamaki were still in regular contact with you.

Oikawa hates to admit it, but you look incredibly happy and relaxed with your fiancé. You had a similar look when you and him had gotten together, but it wasn’t to that caliber. Maybe one day Oikawa would say that was the first time he realized soulmates were a thing, that someone can be happy with you but truly happy with someone else, but that day wasn’t going to be today.

He looks down when you are told to kiss your new husband and hand-in-hand walk down the aisle, leaving the sanctuary. Iwaizumi nudges Oikawa, who shakes his head before following the crowd to the reception area.

“We don’t have to stay, ya know?” Matsukawa says.

“I’m fine, Mattsun.” Oikawa smirks.

“Seriously though, she won’t even notice. Everyone’s gonna be trying to talk to her anyways.” Hanamaki shrugs.

“Makki, we are staying.” He pushes Iwaizumi who is in front of him, “Let’s find our seats.”

* * Luckily the four of them are at the same table, along with a few other people they don’t know. After exchanges names and pleasantries, Oikawa makes a beeline to the bar; a double scotch. Before he can pick it up, Iwaizumi picks it up and takes a sip.

“Iwa-chan!”

“I don’t understand why you’re punishing yourself like this.” He takes another sip as Oikawa orders another one.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turns, leaning his back against the bar; facing the dance floor.

Iwaizumi just shakes his head, “Dumbass.”

Oikawa doesn’t rebuttal because he knows his best friend is right. He is punishing himself, if he had been able to stop putting you second to volleyball, maybe it’d have been him up there with you. Or if he could’ve walked away from his dream, not that you would’ve let him. That’s what one of your last fights was about; he told you that since you wouldn’t move to Argentina then he’d just come back to you.

But you couldn’t let him do that, you couldn’t let him give up something that was a bigger part of him than you were. So, you were selfish, you said things that cut deep in that fight, but you didn’t break up for another few months after that. Oikawa selflessly saying that he understood where you were coming from and that he wanted you to be happy, even if that meant without him.

Though standing there now, seeing you and your new husband laughing as your meal was served, makes his stomach twist.

* * Oikawa glances around the dance floor currently filled with people trying to dance. His eyes stop when he sees Hanamaki and Matsukawa talking to you. The three of you looking just like you had back in high school. Your face lit up, jumping up excitedly a little when Mattsun told you something; you start eagerly looking around until your eyes meet his. You quickly wave him over to you, the two Seijoh alumni wave goodbye at you as Oikawa walks over.

“You made it!” You beam your bright smile at him.

He feels his chest tighten. Being this close to you made him realize just how stupid it was for him to come. You look breathtaking as you always did, but right now you almost glow. Your dress compliments you, hugging you in just the right places. He felt guilty thinking of how beautiful you look while you wore a wedding dress.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He smiles back, but it was one that Iwaizumi would immediately know isn’t sincere. The type of smile one uses to mask the pain they really feel.

You reach up, grabbing his hands but stop before you can say anything.

“Sweetie, your great aunt would like to see you before she leaves.”

“Of course,” you smile up at him, “Oh, this is Oikawa Tooru. He’s the setter for Club Atlético San Juan.”

“Nice to meet you.” He turns back to you, “We really should go, honey.”

“Uhm, well, okay. Don’t leave before we talk more, Tooru.” You smile as you walk away, your hand effortlessly slipping into your husband hand as you pass through the surrounding guests.

If he was a balloon he would’ve deflated because the way your eyes lit up when you saw him knocked the air right out of his lungs. It hurts, no hurt isn’t heavy enough to express the pain in his chest. The way breathing stings as though he’s breathing in icy air or how his mouth feels as dry as cotton.

Then it dawns on him that he has no reason why he’s actually here. He tried to convince himself that it would rude not to show up since you took the time to send him an invitation, but that isn’t true. Tried to say that you being happy, even without him would be enough for him, but it wasn’t because he still loves you.

What was that worth? In reality no one stopped a wedding to declare their love for the bride or groom. He wasn’t any different because the look on your face as you looked at the man in front of you, told him that he couldn’t mess that up. He couldn’t tell you that he wants you back or that he still thinks about you. Because if he had to choose which of you got to be happy, he’d pick you every time.

* * Iwaizumi is out getting the car while Matsukawa attempts to hold a drunken Hanamaki up as he talks him to the car. The reception is winding down so Oikawa scans one last time, hoping to get one final look at you. Call it closure. He doesn’t see you so he just turns to leave, hoping to leave whatever feelings he had for you at the chapel door.

“Oikawa!”

He doesn’t turn around, continuing his trip to Iwaizumi’s car.

“Tooru!”

His eyes squeeze shut, he knows exactly who it is before he sees you. As much as it hurt, he couldn’t just ignore you, after all the bride always gets what she wants on her wedding day.

“Y/N.” He smiles softly.

“You weren’t just gonna leave without saying goodbye, were you?”

He rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I looked but couldn’t find you.”

“Oh.” You push your hands down your stomach, straightening out the imaginary wrinkles, “I’m really glad you got to come.”

“Yeah. Me too. You look gorgeous.”

You look away, slightly embarrassed at his worlds. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He looks at the ground, the easy banter between you was harder to maintain when all he wants is to beg for you to come back. “I should get going. Makki drank enough for the lot of us.”

“Oh, of course.” You smile, “See ya around.”

“Yeah. See ya around.” He turns walking off, throwing back a final glance as you head back inside.

'Cause even when I can't say "Love you"

I love you

Masterlist is here.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu matsukawa #haikyuu hanamaki #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #hq x you #tw: drinking #mentions of alcohol

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