#fics:oneshots

[aitarose]

FROZEN MEMORIES (T. OIKAWA) pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

synopsis: tooru always spoke a million words a minute, a million words describing his everlasting love for y/n—but in reality, vows can’t always be kept, and photographs are all that stand forever.

word count: 7.0k

genre: fluff, angst, getting together, established relationship, time skip

warnings: major character death, slight ghost au

notes: lina and i were talking about planes one time on facetime and now this exists. :) writing about weddings is fun and i hope that this makes people sad—but like the good kind of sad <3 

↳ DIRECTORY

It was a simple thing, the diamond that rested on her finger.

Small, delicate, and nothing like the extravagant stigma of Oikawa Tooru. Nothing like his vibrance and charisma or the tenacity racing through his veins while on the court. There were no sprinkles of the unnecessary, no remnants of borrowed money.

Just simplicity and minimalism. A bare show of his love for her, a showcase that would be blind to the wandering eye, it was so small. The ring was all of the things that had little, if any, relation to his personality.

Throughout the timeline of them knowing one another, Y/N always knew he’d propose. Whether that was when they were in their mid thirties, twenties, or even while in high school—their love was that strong.

And she knew him best. She knew that he wouldn’t present a jewel the size of a bumblebee, or one with gems surrounding the entirety of the band. In her mind, the only option would be the bare band with a single jewel laying atop its center.

The same band that had belonged to his grandmother, mother, and now her.

It wasn’t a statement piece or trophy, but rather a reminder that their relationship didn’t have to be complicated or flashy. That the ring had surpassed generations of instability and trouble, and at the end of the day, all that mattered was their love—their love that was truly unbreakable.

Which was why it was all the more special to Y/N, why she cherished it more than any other belonging. It reminded her of him.

When he’d gotten down on one knee, professed his dreams of sharing the rest of his life by her side, the enjoyment of announcing that she would be the wife of a professional athlete never crossed her mind. 

Y/N didn’t view Oikawa as a celebrity or idol. She didn’t consider him to be on another level or above her status for any reason. In no world was he too good for her, as they were perfect for each other.

There was just something about him, a force that pulled her towards him no matter how hard she tried to resist. He was undoubtedly the other half of her spirit, the person she was always meant to connect with.

Her heart swelled whenever he was around, just knowing that he was in the same building, waiting for her at the end of the flower-filled aisle had tears dripping down her rose-colored cheeks.

She could imagine the smile on his face, the one she’d been waiting to see for over a year now. The smile that she saw when she closed her eyes, looked into her reflection, passed a shining pond.

Ambition was her most dominant personality trait, always feeling the need to reach for the sky and set new goals—but once she’d kissed his lips, she knew that he was the only goal that mattered.

And the two of them had been preparing for this day for what felt like forever, waiting in anticipation for the moment they’d be pronounced as one. However, their wishes had been interrupted by his newly honored position on the Argentinian team.

They had a month, barely thirty days to pack up his life, everything he could possibly need for an unknown amount of time, and find peace with the fact that they wouldn’t be together for every second like they’d become accustomed to.

Driving him to the airport had to be one of the most tear-filled days of Y/N’s life, other than today of course—but today’s tears were much different in every sense and form. 

She could remember the exact look on his face as they’d left the car, carried his luggage to the terminal, and said their goodbyes. Goodbyes that were, of course, temporary as no distance could ever break the bond they had.

The photo laying between Y/N’s fingers had captured that moment perfectly.

Somber looks on both of their faces, yearning for the other even though they were a mere distance away, a distance that was growing with every second the clock counted down.

Laughing lightly, maneuvering her position so her reminiscent tears wouldn’t stain the slightly marred photograph—she pushed the memory aside, instead choosing to recall an earlier one. A happier one.

A memory that was encased within the maple box that Oikawa had gifted her at the terminal. A present that he’d been putting together for nearly a decade, throughout the entirety of their early relationship.

So, while the airplane had taken him thousands of miles away, over an entire ocean and away from her—Y/N had a way to see his face. His beautiful and loving face for the times where he couldn’t answer the phone or pick up a call.

A photo box. One filled with polaroids and snapshots of moments, cherished memories of their lives that had led up to today’s date. It was her most prized possession, the story of her and Oikawa. 

The story of their love.

“Are you alright?” Y/N giggled, pushing the loose strands of hair away from Oikawa’s face. The wind was rapid, carrying them throughout the nearly empty park, and to their destination.

It was a small picnic blanket, one that he’d set up an hour earlier, laying in the center of the field, underneath one of the blossoming cherry trees. Albeit, with the roaring currents, their date spot had flown a few feet into the air.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, ‘Kawa.” She repeated, amused at the sight of his mortified face. There was never a time where Oikawa Tooru didn’t strive for perfection, and in the moment where he felt it mattered most, everything had gone wrong.

He’d been preparing to ask Y/N out for weeks. Always admiring her from afar, searching for her in the stands, smiling at her cheers and words of encouragement. Calling her a crush was beyond his feelings, she was simply his.

So he felt that their first date had to be perfect. It had to leave her hooked, left at the corner of a page, addicted and invested to turn the next—to turn every page in the chapters of their story.

Their story, that was just beginning.

“I’m fantastic, Y/N-chan!” A large, teeth baring smile grew on his lips, eyes wide with anxiety radiating out of them. He didn’t think he’d ever felt his heart beat so fast, the artery on the verge of jumping out of his chest.

“Really?” She asked with her brows raised, noticing how the blood had rushed out of his face, leaving behind a stone-cold canvas of skin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost—no. You look like you are a ghost.”

“It’s okay. I’m nervous, too.” Y/N confessed, taking his hands in hers, her warmth overshadowing the clamminess of his palms—her touch being his salvation. “This is my first time being asked out, you know. I mean, we are only first years.”

Which was entirely true. They’d each moved from their respective middle schools to Aoba Johsai, not knowing of the other’s existence until Oikawa had accidentally tripped over her school bag while on the run from his fangirls. 

From that moment on, he’d been completely and utterly enamored by her. 

Enamored in the way that his cheeks would flush bright red at any moment of embarrassment if Y/N was around. Bright red, just as they were now, with her heart in his grasp, begging to be loved.

As he opened his mouth to speak, scripting his genuine apology for the chaos that was today, something flew right by his right eye. Something small, yellow and black—something that truly pushed him over the edge.

Oikawa ran in a dead sprint, circling the blanket, darting between trees as the innocent bumblebee chased him with glee. His shrieks were ear-piercing, inducing hysterical laughing fits from Y/N, tears brimming the corners of her eyes.

The sternness of his posture had finally relaxed, his placid expression long gone and replaced with one of the over-dramatics and the unnecessary. She felt as though the blood rushing through her veins had settled, content with the familiarity of the Oikawa in front of her.

“Protect me, Y/N-chan!” He cried out, his hands holding her shoulders with a death-grip, using her body as a shield from the barely visible bee. It buzzed around their heads in circles, causing him to duck and cover each time it got too close to his ears.

Y/N was practically out of breath, her voice hoarse from the amount of laughter leaving her throat. “Oikawa! Are you even allergic to bees?” She wondered out loud, trying to find any acceptable reason other than insanity to his reaction.

“I don’t know!” He exclaimed, taking Y/N’s hand and pulling her away from their stray picnic blanket, and towards the more dense sector of trees. “Three percent of people have a reaction, and there’s no way I’m not in the top percentage—I mean look at me!”

His skin was stained red, nearing the color of blood from how much adrenaline he’d been using. The brown in his pupils dark, almost black, large, and staring straight into Y/N’s.

Heavy breathing came from the both of them, energy on the rocks, exhausted after their marathon throughout the park. It was a strange moment, one with no words yet their feelings were communicative. She didn’t need to hear what he was thinking, as she felt the exact same. 

Oikawa began to lean in, his gaze focused on Y/N—his focus staying on her and only her, just as it would always be. Closing her eyes, preparing herself for her very first kiss with the boy that seemed unreachable, Y/N was left with no love on her lips.

Nothing but the sound of a shot snapping from a polaroid camera, and the feeling of a smile pressed against her cheek.

As her vision opened, Y/N’s jaw dropped, smacking his arm with the picnic bag that had been thrown over her shoulder. Sure, she’d noticed him packing the camera earlier, but hadn’t expected him to actually use it. 

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, amusement laced in her tone. Of course he’d pull something like that. He’d do anything to make the moment more memorable. “I can’t believe you, Oikawa.”

He grinned a shit-eating grin, forehead touching hers. If Y/N hadn’t known better, she would’ve walked out, left him behind after such a sporadic and awful first date—but she actually enjoyed the chaos. She enjoyed being with the real him.

“Well, you better believe it, Y/N-chan.” His lips were so close, a mere centimeter away. Only a centimeter between them and, still, the distance seemed too far. “And when I do kiss you, I expect to be called by my real name.”

Oikawa pulled away, saying a final wish before stalking off towards the remnants of their picnic, leaving Y/N with nothing but withdrawal and their single photograph. She rolled her eyes at him, his words racing through her head as she fell in love with the frozen memory.

Call me Tooru.

Y/N’s heart swelled as her senses picked up on the harsh sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor. It was a noise that would likely drive a normal person away, so wretched and foul, absolute agony for the ears—but she loved it.

She loved it since along with that sound, came him—came Oikawa.

“You two really can’t stay away from each other, can you?” Mattsun groaned, his attention brought to the entrance, bemused by the sight of Y/N and used to her inability to be without his friend for longer than two hours.

Despite the roll of his eyes, there was a light smile on Mattsun’s face. A smile that had been replicated throughout the entirety of the team, grins awaiting their captain to notice the company of his favorite cheerleader. 

In the beginning of their relationship, it’d taken the boys a few weeks turned months to warm up to Y/N. It was no secret that Oikawa was a bit of a player, never settling on one girl, always getting distracted with the next best thing—but even they could see that this time, it was different.

After all, they’d lasted for a little over two years now—and in those two years of total bliss, the whole team had picked up on the new positives to the setter’s daily attitude.

Makki noticed the way Oikawa’s eyes lit up around her, how his laugh was ten times louder whenever she was by his side. Mattsun never failed to comment on the stupid beams he’d wear, and how much effort he’d put into his appearance when he was only getting ready for a five minute video call. 

And Iwaizumi was the one who’d seen it all. He’d endured the tireless hours in which his best friend would talk about how nervous he was to see her in the hallways or how fast his heart would beat whenever she’d hand him a pen or compliment his gameplay. 

He’d been the first person to know exactly what had happened after Oikawa asked her on their first date, in which he’d been trampled by fangirls and forced to steal Y/N away into an empty janitor’s closet to get just a minute of privacy. His friend later bouncing with joy on their walk back home, babbling on and on about her accepting his confession.

The very second the setter had said his goodbye, dropped Y/N off at her home, and had one last laugh about the bee incident; Iwaizumi’s phone had blown up with text messages and voicemails—all filled with the lovestruck adoration that Oikawa held for his new flame. The flame that he hoped would burn forever.

It was safe to say that his friends loved her, that they loved them together and the safety net that was their relationship. Y/N brought the dreamer down to earth, while Oikawa taught her how to reach the sky—showed her the importance of keeping her eyes on the clouds.

Iwaizumi shook his head, letting out a low laugh as his best friend caught sight of his girlfriend and took off running in her direction, tackling her to the ground, and completely forgetting about the abandoned volleyball that he’d been juggling altogether. 

PDA was not an issue for Oikawa, never even crossing his mind as he peppered light kisses in circles around Y/N’s face. The girl was bright red beneath him, loudly giggling, and essentially forgetting where she was for a moment—distracted by him, the only person that could ever maintain her attention.

“Pack it up, Loser-kawa.” Makki called out, hands cupping his lips in an attempt to shout out over the sounds of Y/N’s squeals. Her head snapped over to the team at the sound of his calls, cheeks flushing a further scarlet in embarrassment amidst their eye contact.

Oikawa, on the other hand, showed no signs of stopping—completely ignoring the complaints of his teammates, throwing Y/N over his shoulder, and carrying her with ease towards their peers.

“Oh, come on guys.” He smirked as he set his girlfriend down and proceeded to sling an arm around her frame, snuggling her closer to his chest. “There’s no need to be jealous, I’m sure she’ll cheer for you, too—albeit, it won’t ever be as loud as she cheers for me.”

Countless volleyballs came flying in their direction, all aimed for the so-called Great King—narrowly missing Y/N’s body and hitting their target that was Oikawa’s face.

“Quit wasting our time, Shitty-kawa!” Mattsun shot another ball, smacking his captain straight in the forehead. “You two have been in each other’s business all day, save some time for us!”

“Just take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

Y/N laughed, finding the suggestion hilarious—not noticing how her boyfriend’s face lit up with delight. How he reached for the duffel bag beside the door containing their beloved polaroid camera.

“You suggested it, Mattsun!” He tossed the device, landing it perfectly in his friend’s open hands. The brown hair boy stared at the offering, not exactly sure what he’d been expecting from Oikawa of all people. “Now you’ve got to follow through!”

The setter led Y/N towards the net, placing her in front of him with a large smile on his face. His palms ghosted her’s, so close to touching with no intentions of doing so.

As the camera was about to click, he moved, a large groan escaping his throat. “Hold on!” Oikawa shouted, waving his hands in the air manically, sprinting to his practice bag. “Almost forgot something!”

The white material of his Seijoh jacket reflected underneath the fluorescent lights. He held it up with glee, returning to Y/N’s side and placing it over her shoulders with care. 

Nearly prepared for the photoshoot, he felt that one thing was missing. One thing that would truly commemorate the oh-so-momentous event that was photo-worthy.

“Oi, Iwa-chan!” The ace glared at his best friend, knowing exactly what he was asking for. With a roll of his eyes, Iwaizumi found himself between the couple, a frown on his face as they held up bunny ears above his head.

Sticking his tongue out, Oikawa was blinded by the piercing flash of the camera. “Say cheese!” He called out, pinching Iwaizumi’s cheek with his free hand and cowering as he shot him a murderous glance in return.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her expression being light and carefree in the frozen moment—lost amidst her love for her boyfriend and the adoration she held for their best friend. 

Iwaizumi was always there for them—and there’d never be a time in which he wasn’t. Through hardships and breathless arguments, he was there. One phone call away to listen to any tangent or complaint from either of the two.

She knew that he was reliable, and she hoped that he’d stick by their side. She hoped that he’d be the one to walk her down that flower-filled aisle in the future. That he’d be the person to give her off to the man of her dreams.

And, little did she know, her wish would come true.

Soft hums and silent promises wafted throughout Oikawa Tooru’s bedroom. The gentle snores of his girlfriend rising and falling against his chest, pressed atop his heartbeat, filling his love for her as if his heart was a pitcher. 

It’d been a long day, one full of the tiresome stress of tournaments. Although he hated to admit it, he’d spent a majority of the past hours crying—his tears staining Y/N’s sweater, dampening the cotton fabric.

Losing to Karasuno had never even crossed his mind. Seijoh was the best of the best, he was the best of the best, that was what he’d told himself. That was what’d motivated him to continue to pursue his dreams of beating Ushiwaka for so many years. 

But they’d lost. His unstoppable team had lost to complete amateurs, infants in all senses of strategy and gameplay when compared to that of his own team’s. It was truly unbelievable—so unbelievable that Oikawa had only come to terms with it minutes ago.

He’d unknowingly played his last high school game. His final game as captain, the leader of his teammates, the face that every admirer associated with the name “Aoba Johsai”—and that was heartbreaking.

Mindlessly, his fingers graced Y/N’s back, tracing positions and numbers on repeat. It was as if his brain was still stuck on the court, glued to the placement he’d fallen in after that last whistle had blown.

“I love you.” He whispered, admiring her peaceful expression. There’d never be a time in which Oikawa wouldn’t think she was the most beautiful sight in the world. Nothing compared to her, not even the thrill of feeling the ball in his hands.

“You’re perfect, amazing, gorgeous.” An ongoing stream of compliments poured from his lips, all of them always sitting at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released. His brown eyes bored into her closed lids, waiting for them to flutter open, knowing that she was eavesdropping on his one-sided conversation.

“I can’t wait to marry you one day.”

Her eye popped open, her iris meeting his as she fought off a smirk. Oikawa laughed at her audacity, her listening in on his professions of love whilst pretending to be asleep—a very Y/N thing to do.

“Was that a proposal I heard, Tooru?” She teased, a cheshire smile growing on her face. Though she was joking, there was a part of her that felt ecstatic. Excited for the future, their future. “Aren’t we a little young for that?”

Oikawa ignored her humorous tone, choosing to take her words seriously. Sincerity overtook his features, determination shining in his eyes. “No, that wasn’t a proposal. Not yet at least.”

“But it was a promise.” He rolled over, arms stretched out onto the mattress as he held his weight above his flushed girlfriend. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.”

“I promise.”

Y/N reached upwards, caressing his cheek with care, pulling him down towards her frame. As she connected their lips, love flooded from their hearts. Pure love that they were so lucky to have found in each other.

Their kiss was passionate, fluid and desperate as they clung to one another in an attempt to get even closer than they already were. Oikawa’s hair brushed against her forehead, tickling her nerves amidst the act.

He cupped her cheeks in his hands, pressing further as her swollen lips were chapped and yearning for more. It was as if he was the water to her drought, the sun to her flowers, the missing half of her soul—he was everything she ever needed, everything she could ever want.

“I love you, Tooru.” Y/N was breathless, heaving gusts of air as she composed herself between his arms. Her skin was shaded pink, hair a mess, and eyes wide in adoration for her boyfriend. “I’ll love you forever.”

A scoff fell from his lips whilst he relaxed his muscles, laying down on her body, his head against her chest as he felt her short breaths rise and fall. “Don’t get your head too high in the clouds, beautiful.”

“We can focus on forever later.” With his heartbeat slowing, sleep on his mind, Oikawa wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist. “Let’s just think about now—right now, and how amazing I just made you feel.”

“They don’t call me the Great King for nothing!”

With a groan, Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her, choosing to sleep on her side instead of listening to his boasting. It was a common occurrence, one that she was used to and knew how to handle—feigned disinterest was always her favorite route to take.

Oikawa pouted at the emptiness he now faced without being in her arms. He wanted attention, and the only way to get her attention was to distract her from his terrible humor in the only way he knew how.

Various pokes and prods scattered across Y/N’s backside, the relentless actions being from the needy narcissist she was sharing a blanket with. Pulling the covers over her head, she peeked out from underneath, coming face-to-face with the bright flash of his camera.

“Smile for the camera, beautiful.”

The terminal was bustling with people, luggage rolling across the stone floors and towards their rightful places. Color was void on the walls, simple tones of grey and blue plastered opposite to the towering window panes.

Reunions between young children and their mothers, spouses who’d just arrived home from business trips, and pilots seeing their coworkers for the first time in days occurred in spurts—smiles of joy expressed on their faces.

And in contrast to that joy, was Y/N and her smile of sadness. 

Though she’d been expecting for this day for weeks, she knew that all the preparation in the world would never be enough to suffice the need that she had for him. The need that she had for Oikawa.

He’d been offered a position on San Juan’s professional team, his dream position as a setter for the big leagues, which meant that the move was inevitable. It meant that he’d be thousands of miles away from the love of his life for an unprecedented period of time.

The conversation hadn’t been easy, having to determine if they should carry on with their wedding plans or say their uncertain goodbyes. Countless tears had been shed, tears that had ultimately decided to part—tears that were still dripping down Y/N’s chin.

Her lip quivered, watching as Oikawa stopped dead in his tracks, staring up at the screen that flashed his flight number. He let go of the handle he’d been holding, the suitcase nearly falling over before Iwaizumi had a chance to balance it. 

Turning to face his fiancée, waterworks flooded his vision, blurring her features into a beautiful mess. A beautiful mess of rosy cheeks and teary eyes, an oil painting of agony that only he could decipher. 

“I’ll be thinking of you every day.” He said, holding her gaze as she found herself sobbing in his arms. “From the minute I step through those gates to the time I score my first point—I’ll be thinking of you. You’re all that my mind’s ever thought about, anyways.”

Oikawa cradled her head in his hands, peppering butterfly kisses against her nose, memorizing how naturally gorgeous she looked even when she was at her absolute worst. Nothing could change his view on her, the view that she was flawed perfection—his perfectly flawed perfection.

“I love you so much, Tooru.” Y/N cried, noting the little details of his face. How his irises shone gold in reflection to the setting sun. How unseen freckles kissed his skin in all the right places. How his heart was so big, so full of adoration for their relationship. “I know I say it every day, but you were my first love—”

“Well, you were my only love—and you’re always going to be my only love.” 

A pained laugh escaped her mouth as his confession deemed true. It felt like they were going their separate ways, breaking their bond although the both of them knew that this was temporary. That they’d be saying their vows on the very day he’d return.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, wiping away the stray drops that had fallen from his tear ducts. Oikawa grimaced with a tight lipped smile, bringing his own palms up and resting them over hers, feeling the cool metal of her engagement ring.

“This rock had better stay on your finger.” He commanded with a chuckle, trying his best to cement the softness of her skin against his callouses to memory. “Anyone who even thinks to hit on my girl is going to feel the wrath of Oikawa Tooru!”

“It doesn’t matter how many miles are between us,” he continued, surging forward as he captured her lips in his, saying his next few words between shows of love. “You’re my heart, and mine only.”

His kisses were gentle, soft and scarce, in great contrast to the usual tenacity and passion that he held. All the things he’d ever needed to say had been spoken, the only ones left being the promises he’d commit to at the altar. 

With the bright flash of a camera, Oikawa found himself frozen. He stared in awe at Y/N, into her devilish eyes that had finally managed to surprise him in his own game. The power of the moment was in her court, the mementos created by the push of her finger. 

“Just in case I forget.” She whispered, her forehead resting against his. Her nose scrunched in distaste for their soon-to-be goodbye, their soon to be separation. “Even though I’d never forget you, Tooru.”

“I’ll be here—loving you until the second you’re back.”

Oikawa nodded, pressing one last kiss to the top of her head, before pulling away. He took his luggage from Iwaizumi, on the verge of bursting into tears again at the sight of his sorrow gaze. 

The two boys hugged for as long as they possibly could, Oikawa’s hands gripping Iwa’s jacket, to which he responded with a slap on this back with some good natured insults. They had no shame, no concerns about their masculinity or manliness as they held each other in sadness.

Y/N had never seen them so low, always picturing their game faces mixed with determination—a stark difference to the helplessness they expressed amidst the sunsetting rays of the window panes.

“Keep her safe for me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa requested, gesturing to the lonely girl to his left. “Don’t let her get too down on herself, okay? If I’m not there to answer a text or a phone call—you make sure you’re there for her. You make sure she’ll be alright.”

“I know she can handle herself, but she shouldn’t have to all of the time.” He grasped Iwaizumi’s shoulder, shaking it roughly with his wishes. His best friend was nodding beneath his grip, listening to each one of the setter’s asks. “Our little trio’s going to be two for a bit, not forever, but for a while.”

And with one last kiss and an offering, he was gone—lost to the sea of strangers and luggage, ripped away from his favorite people on a flight to a new country with new opportunities. Oikawa Tooru’s head was always lost in the clouds, flying high with the success of volleyball on his mind. 

But in his heart was Y/N. 

The girl that he’d wanted to marry since the minute he’d seen her laughing in the hallways. Since she’d offered to pass him some balls and cheered for him in the front section of the audience at all of his games. Ever since she’d kissed him for the first time in the back of his parents minivan. 

He lived for her, his heart beat for her—and he was itching to be back in her arms, knowing full well that it’d be months until he’d get to see her in person again. All he could hope for was that his gift would suffice her loneliness in his absence. 

That the photo box he’d been putting together for years would be enough to keep the memory of their love alive in the times when he’d be too distracted by his ambition to pay her any attention. That it’d remind her that he loved her and would climb mountains to prove it.

And he was right. The polaroids did help Y/N reminisce on all of their frozen moments, lost kisses, and happy memories that she’d be unable to maintain while he was thousands of miles away.

Thousands of miles that would disappear on the day he’d return—on the day of their wedding.

“You alright?”

Y/N jumped, dropping the box of photos in her lap at the unexpected sound of Iwaizumi’s deep voice. The polaroids fluttered to the ground, flying like kites in the wind on a sunny day, falling onto the hardwood on their final departure.

Frantically, she bent over to gather the memories, quickly snatching them up as her friend ran over to help her. The vinyl backings felt smooth in her hand, eyes glancing upwards to Iwa, who’d become stuck on a single frame.

It was one of her favorite moments of the three of them, the photo from their high school gym. The look on her and Oikawa’s faces was hysterical, them choosing to poke fun at their best friend with bunny ears and stuck out tongues.

“I still can’t believe he put all this together.” Iwaizumi wondered aloud, shaking his head in disbelief at the craftiness of his former setter. “Who knew Shitty-kawa had it in him?”

Resting her head over his shoulder, Y/N smiled, her face warming at the sight of his bright and glossy smile. She reached forward, closing his hands around the photograph. “You can have it, the picture.” 

His head snapped towards her, profusely rejecting her offer, knowing full well that that gift was meant to be hers and hers alone. “I couldn’t, really. He made this for you, I wouldn’t want to make it any less special.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes whilst straightening her posture. She stood, towering over the man still kneeling on the ground and offered him a hand. “It’s okay, Hajime. I have plenty—and that memory isn’t only mine to keep.”

Taking her extension of help, he rose up, wrapping his arms around her in a large hug. The comfort that he surrounded her with was enough to bring her to tears, knowing that he’d only come in the room to tell her that it was time. That it was time for him to walk her down that flower-filled aisle. 

“You look amazing, Y/N. You really do.” Iwaizumi whispered, complimenting the dress she and her mother had selected for the momentous occasion. He raised his arm in the air, spinning her in a circle, admiring how the stunning fabric twirled around her.

She smiled, genuine gratitude filling her beam as she reflected on the comment her beloved fiancé had made about the outfit she’d been meaning to share with him. How he’d boasted about his own appearance, joking that he’d steal the show.

“Yeah, you’ll look beautiful.” He’d told her over the phone during a late night video call while she’d been rambling about choosing a dress, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his voice. “But let’s be honest, I’m impossible to outshine. Sorry, love.”

Over the past year, it’d been impossible to get his voice out of her head. Soft confessions of love, good mornings and goodnights, even arguments played on a loop, on a broken record. 

She’d missed him more than words could tell—and she knew, with how much her heart loved him, that she’d miss him every day. She’d miss him no matter how much distance was between them, whether that was thousands of miles or mere inches.

Taking notice of how her body began to shake, how Y/N’s bones were quivering with nerves and anxiety, Iwaizumi looped her arm around his. “You’ve got this.” He encouraged, knowing that she felt unprepared to present herself in front of all of their friends and family in such a way.

The look in his eyes was confident, secure with closure and acceptance for what the day was about to bring. For what the rest of their lives were about to bring to their little trio. He was ready to take the next step—and he was waiting for Y/N to do the same.

As she took a deep breath, calming her nerves into submission, she nodded gesturing to Iwaizumi to carry on, the two of them walking together out of the room and towards the crowd that awaited them.

The thick scent of camellias lay stagnant in the air, the deep red flowers surrounding the venue, strategically placed on vines and potted plants. All done by professional florists and media that had insisted that the day be perfect for a celebrity such as Oikawa.

Handing her off on her own, Iwaizumi pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hands, wishing her luck and reassuring her that everything would turn out okay. Reassuring her that there was no need to be afraid of the future.

Her future, the new reality that was beginning at this very second. The reality that had begun at the first sighting of tears in the audience, the view of Takeru crying into his mother’s shoulder, of Makki and Mattsun silently encouraging her to go on.

“Thank you, all of you, for coming today.” Y/N began, making eye contact with each and every personality, proud of the amount of people that had shown up. Proud of the amount of people that cared enough to be there. “I know you’d all been planning on sitting in those seats since we’d announced our engagement—but really, thank you for saving the date.”

Reaching her hands out to her side, waiting to come into contact with the warmth of his palms, the loving grip that he always seemed to hold—she felt nothing but the smooth mahogany of an empty casket.

“I’m only sorry that our wedding had to become a funeral.”

She sighed, neck craned down to smooth the sparse wrinkles of her dark dress, only to look up and be welcomed by a sea of black—a sea of sorrow. An ocean that would never let her ride her final wave.

“Tooru was so excited to see all of you. He told me that every night, whether it was through a quick text message or one of our phone calls—he always talked about this day, and how lucky he was to have loved ones that cared so much.”

“He was so excited that he just couldn’t wait, he couldn’t wait the extra week and took that early flight. Took his own private jet with his crew so that he could surprise all of us, see the looks on our faces as he pulled another one of his stunts.”

A sob began to form at the tip of her tongue, a void of agony building in her stomach. Waiting to be let out in a massive scream or breakdown—but Y/N continued, fighting back her own sadness to be strong for the others. To be their rock, just as Oikawa had always been hers.

“But,” her eyes were watering, voice cracking through her next choice of words. The memory of the moment being overpowering amidst her perseverance. “There was something wrong with the engine. There was something wrong, so wrong, that—well we all know what happened.”

“His head was too lost in the clouds.”

Giving up on her composure, Y/N wrapped her arms around her shaking body, rubbing her shoulders just as he used to whenever she’d feel alone or completely broken. However, she was truly and utterly broken this time—never to be fixed by his loving grasp.

“When Hajime called me, told me what’d happened. When he told me about the phone call, and how’d he’d tried to reach me but for some stupid reason I hadn’t picked up,” Y/N gulped, breathing heavily with sorrow, “I’d never hated myself more.”

“‘Tell her I’m sorry, that I’m sorry that I kept my promise.’ That’s what Tooru had told him while the plane had been spiraling. ‘I’m sorry that I kept the promise that I’d love her ‘till the day I’d die.’”

There wasn’t a single dry face in the audience, everyone dripping with sadness, faces blue with contagious crying as Y/N made her final statement. Her final public farewell to the love of her life. The love of her life that was no more.

“But I’m going to keep my promise and live every day for him. Keep him in our lives as best I can, as often as I can until I’ve lived life long enough to be with him myself.”

A breath of relief overcame her as the audience dispersed, satisfied with her eulogy, slowly walking around the room to admire the makeshift photo boards and flowers that Oikawa’s fans and former classmates had sent. 

All alone, Y/N spun to face his casket, the casket that held nothing but a single photograph of him—there being no physical remnants to bury. It was a perfect burial for a king, her perfect king of the court. 

The burial was one that Mattsun had blessed them with, already having been in the funeral home career. There was no one else that she would’ve trusted with Oikawa, no one else that she would’ve let come near his memorial. 

As her palms ran over the varnished surface of the coffin, eyes closed in an attempt to shut out the pain. She whispered her actual promise, the one she’d told him so many times through the screens of their phones. 

“You’re my heart, Tooru—and I’d never forget my heart, no matter how far away you may be.”

And unbeknownst to her, he wasn’t far. He wasn’t far at all—as he was right beside her, his spirit always being by her side through the times she’d try to shut his memory out and pretend that he hadn’t ever existed. There wasn’t a world in which Oikawa would let her be alone to her sadness.

Watching as she cried, wishing that he could wipe away her tears, tell her how much he loves her, give her a longing kiss on the lips—all he could do was stand there and dream of the life they could’ve had. 

The life in which she’d be able to see how handsome he looked in the wedding suit he and Iwaizumi had picked out together. The life where she’d laugh and flush red at his snarky comments and cocky attitude. The life where he wasn’t buried under a trillion tons of ocean water.

But that life would never become a reality. It would never come true as he couldn’t stay with her, not even as a spirit. He needed to find his peace, come to terms with how her life would be from that day on—void of their love.

“Don’t cry, beautiful.” Oikawa cried, biting his lip to choke back his own sobs—wanting, more than anything, to brush away her tears. He took one last look at her, one last look to cement the memory of her face.

It was as if she were a photograph, his own keepsake to reminisce and recall wherever he would end up. A final gift, one being given to himself, while he accepted his inevitable fate. 

“I’d hate to miss your smile.”

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[lavienjin]

filing this under my favourite review 😌 thank you so much for reading 🥺

bass boosted | ksj

synopsis: you're curious to explore the theory about bassists having superior fingering techniques. lucky for you, there happens to be an incredibly attractive bass player to help you with your experiment.

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 2k

genre/rating/au: 18+ | musician au | smut

warnings: pwp • hand kink • fingering • impact play (ass) • breast play • hair pulling • sex against a wall • name calling (brat) • unprotected sex • creampie • choking • multiple orgasms • might i remind you: seokjin's fuckin hands

author's note: part of bccsg's prompt and the result of the war between ryen @kithtaehyung, ray @rmverse, and sae @taechnological (rumour has it that the post only got longer). since i can't contribute to the amount of pictures in that post, have a seokjin smut instead. but also this is for @taejinnies anj who deserves an attack every now and again x

this work is unedited.

m.list | ao3

Everything’s slow.

Like you’re moving through air entirely made of honey.

Your breathing stutters when he drags a calloused thumb over your lips, parting them slightly. You lick experimentally, tongue flicking over the tip of his finger, gaze never parting from his. Seokjin’s eyes darken as your pretty mouth envelopes his digit to the fist knuckle, a groan rumbles in his chest when you begin to suck.

Hesitantly, you take him deeper, testing the waters further by dragging your teeth gently against the ridges of his thumb. You take his silence as a silent encouragement to continue, so you close your eyes and fill your mouth with the taste of his skin, sucking and licking the tender flesh greedily to inform him of your skill set.

“Fuck,” he utters quietly when you leave his thumb with a pop.

Your hand circles his wrist and you trail your tongue from the base of his index finger to the tip before doing the same to his middle finger. He brings the two digits together and with a curse, he pushes past your plush lips and into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue slightly as he tries to remain unaffected. You spy the quick rise and fall of his chest; the tint in his skin turning a shade of crimson; and the tenting in his pants. All he needs is one more push.

You give the same treatment to the crowd in your mouth, moaning quietly while staring up into his obsidian gaze. Seokjin closes his eyes at vibrations from your voice, a shiver running down his spine.

When his digits are thoroughly coated with your saliva, you pull back, letting a trail of slick dribble from your lips and drop to your cleavage. Seokjin’s eyes travel south instantly.

With a smirk, you close the distance between your bodies, pressing your chests together. Standing on your tiptoes, you bring your lips close to his ear as you whisper, “They say bassists have the best fingering technique. Why don’t you prove that theory for me?”

Seokjin goes rigid, muscles locking in place; breathing shallow. His dark eyes trail over your eager figure, who’s currently laving at the spot under his jaw. Your saliva still coats his fingers and your perfume wafts into his nose every time he inhales. He shouldn’t want you, not when you’re the lead singer’s precious younger sister, but with every swipe of your tongue against his skin, it becomes harder for him to compose himself.

With shaky hands he pulls you away, fully intending to dismiss your advances. But it’s your eyes, blinking at him in confusion, that finally causes him to succumb to his desires.

His breath tickles your face as he murmurs quietly, lips only inches away from yours, “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I do, I want you.”

When you crash your lips on his, time resumes. There’s a pounding in your head as Seokjin pulls you into his embrace by your waist; his large hands kneading your hips, making you moan. The kiss turns messier, hungrier, as your tongues swipe at each other, grunts tumbling past his lips and into your mouth. Seokjin mutters your name, his hand coming up to rake through your tresses as he pushes you back into the wall. He grinds his pelvis on your thighs and now it’s your turn to shiver, feeling his length through the thick material of his jeans. Your own hands claw desperately at his white linen shirt, begging him to take it off with breathy ‘please’s in between kisses.

Seokjin parts from you to fulfill your request, tearing off his shirt to fling it behind him. He lets you ogle for a few seconds before he chases your lips, kissing the length of your jaw before nibbling gently on the delicate skin of your neck.

“Mmh—” you gasp, matching his clothed thrusts with your own. “Fuck, can’t take it anymore.”

“Patience,” he mumbles into your skin, lifting your own shirt up and tossing it onto the steadily growing pile.

Your skin burns where his calloused fingers touch; your body coming alive with every caress. Seokjin splays his hand on your stomach, chuckling quietly when you whine. Detaching from your neck, he returns to your lips, distracting you for a moment while he unhooks your bra and soon, his large hands palm your tits, kneading them gently.

Mind is abuzz with pleasure, coherence slips away as you mewl his name in half-syllables, barely able to open your eyes. When his fingers pinch your nipples, you secure your grip on his shoulders; knees threatening to buckle. As he grinds harder; kneeling slightly so he could drag his erection over your centre, you fail to keep your voice in check, panting loudly while your fingernails leave half-moon indents on his skin.

“Like that—fuck, Jin, please…” you beg, resting your forehead against his. Your half-lidded eyes focus on his swollen lips, thinking about how good it would feel to have him between your thighs. But, your impatience wins over every time your cunt clenches around nothing and now you want nothing more than for him to fuck you against the wall.

“What, baby? What’s wrong?” he chuckles, punctuating his sentence by pinching and rolling your nipples.

“God… fuck me already.”

“I thought you wanted me to prove a theory?”

The cockiness in his voice makes you want to push him away, but that would get you nowhere, so you bite down the scathing remark and drag your fingernails down his chest instead, leaving pretty red marks on his alabaster skin in your wake. The action earns you a satisfying grunt from Seokjin and it’s your turn to smirk at him, relishing in the tiny victory.

“Fucking brat,” he mutters, glowering down at you. “Turn around.”

You comply to his request, adding a few turns of your hips to tease him further. Seokjin clicks his tongue in disappointment, tugging your shorts and panties down to pool at your ankles before landing a sharp smack across your left cheek. Your head tips back involuntarily, a whimper leaving your lips as he does it again. Arousal drips down your thighs with every spank and your fingers scratch uselessly on the empty walls, having found no purchase to hold you steady. He soothes the burn with a few gentle strokes of his palm, humming in approval when you arch your back, pushing your ass further into his hand.

Seokjin presses his chest to your back, caging you in. His hand on your ass trails lower to trace slowly along the outside of your cunt and he lets out a quiet ‘Oh?’ upon discovering your dampness. You whine and protest, bucking your hips to chase any amount of friction for relief, but he feigns ignorance, torturing you with barely there touches.

“Jin, fuck, need you inside me. Come on,” you beg, embarrassed by your own high pitch tone so laced with need.

“What’s the magic word?” he teases, sliding his palm over your clit.

You tremble at the contact, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. “Please.”

“Good girl.”

Gradually, Seokjin pushes two of his fingers into your pussy, stroking the velvet walls by the curl of his fingers. Your mouth hangs open, captured in a silent moan as he begins thrusting languidly inside, grunting every time you clench around his fingers.

You’re so focused at the feeling of his fingers that it takes a second for you to register that he’s talking. “…hypothesis?” is all you catch. Angling your head, you ask him to repeat what he says only for Seokjin to remove his fingers completely from your cunt. You start to protest, but it’s cut short when he sinks three of his digits inside, causing you to choke as your words turn into a long, drawn out moan.

“Too fucked out to listen, hm?” Seokjin jeers. Your scalp tingles when his empty hand pulls your head back with a firm grip on your hair, exposing the length of your throat. “Fine then, this baby is clearly too dumb to coherently speak anyway.”

His pace is brutal as he slams his fingers repeatedly into your sopping cunt, the wet sounds echoing in the room along with groans of his name. Seokjin releases your hair to deliver a couple spanks across your ass before swiping circles on your clit. Every time he sinks his digits, your head swims and with each passing second, your thighs shake harder in an effort to keep yourself upright.

“Gonna— fuck!”

“Yeah? Cum on these fingers you love so much? God, I can’t waitto fill this pussy,” Seokjin taunts, keeping his pace until you’re crying his name loudly in a hoarse voice.

The orgasm leaves you breathless, wave after wave threatening to knock you over while he prolongs the pleasure. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and his name is the only thing your chant as you come down from the high, head foggy with pleasure that makes it impossible to keep your eyes open. You’re still trembling slightly as Seokjin kisses your shoulder, licking a random stripe on your neck before nibbling gently.

“Satisfied?” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist while the other rubs soothing circles on your hips.

“Not… yet,” you reply breathlessly, pressing your sore ass to grind against his erection.

You feel the rumble of his laughter from your back and the clinking of his belt hitting the floor. Seokjin removes himself from your back to shrug his pants off, a thin sheen of sweat coating his toned chest. Stroking his length a few times, he angles the head on your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts.

You whimpers grow louder as he continues, pleas and begs falling carelessly from your lips as you rut against his cock. When he’s finally had enough of his own teasing, he sinks into you slowly, shuddering when your walls engulf his girth in an intoxicating grip.

“Fuuuck—” he moans with you. “You feel so fucking good.”

It’s sweet of him to resist the urge to slam immediately into your cunt, but you’re not so patient, groaning as you fuck yourself into his length. Seokjin understood quickly and the languid thrusts he started with increased in tempo, his hips slapping loudly against your ass as he pounds you into the wall.

“Shit—choke me,” you rasp, fully giving in to your desires.

Seokjin doesn’t question it, immediately wrapping his beautiful fingers around the base of your neck, squeezing lightly to test out the waters.

“More—ah, right there!” you cry when the head of his cock brushes against the spongey walls of your g-spot.

He growls as he increases his speed, deliberately angling his strokes to abuse the spot while constricting your air flow until your vision is spotty with white. It isn’t long before you feel the electric current of an impending orgasm; the goosebumps resurfacing on your skin as your head begins to swim with pleasure. Seokjin’s hand that grips your waist snake around to play with your clit, swiping in tandem with his thrusts.

“You’re so fucking tight—shit—” Seokjin grunts, releasing your throat to grab at your hips again, fingers digging into your skin.

You didn’t have time to warn him when the second orgasm crashes into you and all you manage is a sharp howl of his name as you screw your eyes shut and grit your teeth, trembling violently under his continued pace.

The sensation of your walls constricting around him was enough to send him into his own orgasm and with a last roll of his hips against your battered cunt, he spills his seed inside with a moan of your name, chest flushed against your back as his hips stutter to a complete stop. You’re both breathing heavy, skin sticking together with a layer of sweat before you pull yourself away, the room suffocating with heat.

After you’re fully clothed and cleaned up, you crash onto the couch with a heavy sigh, heart still hammering in your chest when you think of the events of the night. Seokjin sits next to you, dragging your body close to his so you can rest your head on his wide shoulders.

“Did I prove it?” he smirks, kissing your head. “Your theory, I mean.”

You snicker, shoving him lightly with your shoulder as you intertwine your fingers into his hands, relishing at the drag of his calloused thumb over your knuckles. “Yeah, bass players are definitely the best.”

all works are © bangtanhome

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