#i GUESS you could argue it's the same for oikawa. and it is but he is also kind of a dick off the court too so....

[monstrsball]

i don't know if i've said this or if that was just in discord but i simply enjoy pairing suga with people his friends will look at and go "... him?"

[atlaswav]

ACE! ➷

INFO: 3246 words, oikawa x fem! reader, olympics au, timeskip SYNOPSIS: In the heat of the competition, you find more enemies in the Olympic dining hall, rivalling for the last infamous chocolate muffin, the social media sensation. WARNINGS: none. AUTHOR'S NOTE: i wrote this ages ago when the Olympics were still happening and just finished it so uh....... ANYWAY!!! this is my attempt at a crackfic because it makes sense. Writing quality and pacing may be off sorry BUT IT COUNTS RIGHT watch this flop because the haikyuu fandom is dead

There are few things left in this world that still hold unequivocal beauty. Few things can exist with such suffering and turmoil. Few things, too, could quell this hopelessness, and in sleepless nights, scrolling on your phone with blue light illuminating the room in eerie shadow, you’d come to see the legendary Olympic chocolate muffin as one of these beautiful things.

The night was quiet, and the dining hall was almost empty as you walked up to the dessert stand. 

There was one muffin left,  molten chocolate glowing under the warm lamplight, oozing with liquid bliss, illuminated in a halo of gold.

But where there is beauty, there is also ugliness. There was someone in the way of your pursuit of enlightenment. You could only dream of the bliss of sweet chocolate ganache dissolving on your tongue with angelic grace, only imagine the taste it would leave lingering in your mouth. But now – as womankind may always find – there was a man in your way.

“Excuse me.”

“Huh?”

As he turns around, your heart drops into your stomach. The giant of a man lays his hands on the muffin in front of you. All hope you had for humanity diminished in one touch. 

“...that was mine.” you mumble. 

The shuffling of sandals on the ground echoes through the empty dining hall. His gaze awkwardly flits between you and the muffin. 

“...Sorry? Finders keepers??” He replies in the same language – almost perfect English. He shrugs. A giant movement. He was taller than you’d have liked, towering over you as you attempted to argue for custody of the muffin.  It didn’t help that his dark brown eyes seemed to glint with challenge, and you felt yourself indignantly rise up to this unspoken provocation.

“What happened to chivalry?”

“Guess its dead, sweet heart.”

“You’re not even gonna attempt to be a gentleman?”

“You’re not ladylike, so I won’t be a gentleman.”

“So you’re admitting you’re a douche.”

“At least I’m a douche with a muffin.”

You sigh dejectedly. First, your first loss in the preliminary games – crushing, really, losing by two points – second, the massive specimen of a man standing in front of you with his hands on your consolation prize.

This was going to be your last straw.

Well, at least the asshole was handsome. The ‘Argentina’ scribed on his uniform, however, didn’t make sense. He looked Asian, and yet he spoke English fluently. He was confusing, but one thing you knew for sure was that all those guys on the Argentinian men’s team were jerks, based on the few of them that snickered at your team as you exited the stadium following your loss in the prelims. 

“Fuck you. I hope you lose your next match.”

“Oh–”

You storm away before he can get another word in.

This was your first encounter with Tōru Oikawa. Maybe an overreaction, but you really didn’t care.

The following day, your warmup is interrupted as the Argentinian men's team decide to enter your warmup stadium, raucous and impossible to miss. 

“Do they have the wrong court, or something?” your coach murmurs, tearing his attention away from the practice game. 

“Oh! It’s you!” a distinctive voice calls. 

You turn from your rally – a mistake – and see the handsome thief from the day before staring at you, carrying a sports bag, wearing a light blue jacket with a white stripe down the sleeve. So he was an Argentinian player. Why was he here, though?

“Wait! Ball!”

You turn back to your rally just in time to get hit in the face with a volleyball, nose aching, eyes bleary with tears, reality tilting on its axis as you fall on your hands.

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” the coach yells, distinct through the cacophony.

“This is our court, isn’t it?” the thief says. His voice is smooth like honey – like a liar. 

“No, It’s ours until noon.” 

“Is it not a quarter to noon?” 

“Exactly, so get out. You’ve already injured one of my star players.” He swears in Japanese, and you hear the thief snicker, saying something back. Is he Japanese?

You don’t know what happens next, except being hoisted up, braced on someone’s arms and being sat on a bench. Someone hands you a tissue for your watering eyes, and you feel a biting cold on your nose, wincing as someone gives you an ice pack to hold to your face. 

“I always hated those Argentinian volleyball players. So cocky.” your teammate says. 

“Their captain is a handful. I wouldn’t want that bastard on the Japanese team either.” your coach echoes. 

So he was their captain. And Japanese. And an asshole.

How dare he? 

This is how you, in your head, earn the right to one of Oikawa’s apologies – how you find him in the cafeteria once again, nose lightly bandaged, lined up for dinner, and are intent on getting a “sorry” from his perpetually smiling lips. 

“Oh, you.”

His lips twitch into a half grimace, half smile. “Me.”

“Are you going to apologise?”

“I – for what?”

“Are you being stupid, or an asshole right now?”

“Neither. I don’t see what I need to apologise for.”

You mutter something under your breath about “Stupid, hot Argentinian volleyball players.” 

“What was that?”

“Move up. You’re holding up the line.”

He shuffles forward, but turns around again to continue your exchange. “It’s not my fault you were too slow.”

“Which incident are you talking about? The muffin, or today?”

“The muffin, obviously. What, like it's my fault you lost concentration?”

“Mother–”

“Hey, can you guys quit arguing and move along? You’re holding everyone up.”

You both shut up and collect your dinner, parting with scalding glances toward each other. 

“...you okay?”

“Does it look like it?”

“Is it that Argentinian captain again?”

You groan, stabbing your lukewarm mashed potatoes with your spoon. “I hate him.”

Your teammate casts you a sidelong glance. “Okay, whatever you say.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Your third encounter with the Argentinian captain is when you file into the stadium, teeming with people decked out in red and white, to watch a preliminary game of the Japanese men’s team – your competing country. You’d been scouted for their women's team, but you were never able to witness the men’s team in action, only heard about their strengths. 

“What the hell?” 

You turn, and behind you is Oikawa. He wears a cap with a sports logo on it, and sunglasses that are almost comically large. You find it within yourself to resist a howling laugh. 

“What? Why are you here?” you ask – slightly too loudly, as people cast their attention toward you. He shrinks down in his seat in embarrassment. 

“I’m scouting the enemy, of course. What, are you stalking me or something?” he mumbles, glaring at you past the rims of his sunglasses. 

You scoff. “Of course not. I’m watching my country play, obviously.”

“Really? You’re Japanese?”

“I’m a citizen. Aren’t you?”

He crosses his arms, huffing. “And I thought I’d tanned when I was in Brazil.”

You scoff at his childishness. “Brazil? Why aren’t you playing for Japan?”

“I need to crush them.”

You let out a barking laugh at his antics. “Really? You have vendettas that need fulfilling?”

“Don’t laugh, you’re drawing attention.” he sighs, leaning forward as if passing on some great generational secret. “But yes. I do.”

“I can’t begin to imagine who could ever be your enemy.”

“Well I sure can.”

This man has to be a social experiment. “That was sarcasm, captain.”

He pouts, and you turn straight ahead for the national anthems to play and the first serve. 

The first server is the Japanese setter, Kageyama. The stadium’s volume seems to drop slightly as he prepares to serve, making the impact of the ball with his hand even louder than it would’ve been. The ball hits the other team with frightening speed, ricocheting from their libero’s arms into the spectator’s stands. 

The Japanese supporters begin to cheer, and you applaud with them, before you hear a scoff from behind you. 

“What, is he one of the guys you need revenge on, or something?”

He turns away, but you see his pout. 

You laugh. “Afraid he’s better than you?”

“Of course not. I’m better.”

“Hey, you know what, why don’t we switch seats?” Oikawa’s teammate suggests from beside him. The captain looks completely betrayed at his teammate’s suggestion, but he can’t rebuke before the teammate gets up, crossing the stands. 

You decide it’d be fun to mess with him, so you comply. 

But you don’t forget that he owes you an apology. Two. You’re not growing fond of him, either. 

The crowd erupts into cheers as Japan scores another point, and you applaud with them, but Oikawa only sinks further into his seat – now beside you – narrowing his eyes and lowering his sunglasses on his nose, only to glare at the court. 

“What?”

“I hate that guy.”

“Who?”

“The one who just scored.”

“...Ushijima? Why?” 

“I hate him.”

“...sure you do. Should I ask who else you hate, or will we be here all day?”

He ends up listing every wrong Ushijima had done to him since middle school, going on an angry rant about how he failed to bring his high school team to victory because of Kageyama. You can see his inferiority complex showing by the end of this. By the end, the game had reached the second set that Japan was also about to win. 

“...Okay, wow, a lot to process.”

“So yes, I have a vendetta. Thought you should know.”

“That was a really big dump on some stranger you haven’t even known for a week.”

“You asked.”

“No, not really.”

He rolls his eyes, and you both go back to watching the game. What you don’t realise is that he’s smiling. 

And despite himself, he is clutching the edge of his seat as Japan gets to the game point in the third set, locked in a deuce with their opponents. The score climbs higher and higher, neither team willing to let up. 

“Oh my God, I’m going to throw up.” you groan, watching the next server prepare. 

“Want a throwup bag?”

“You look like you could use one too.”

“I’m not nervous, unlike you.”

“I can see the sweat on your shorts. You’re not subtle when you wipe your hands on them.”

“Damn you–”

“Shut up, they just served.”

Maybe it's the adrenaline running high from the match, or from the ceaseless energy of the spectators, but you both nearly cry in relief when Japan finally pulls away from the deuce, securing the game. Despite his grudge for the entire Japanese team, it seems, he pulls you into a side embrace as you both cheer. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be ‘scouting the enemy’?” you say through laughter. 

“I am. This is all a disguise.”

You roll your eyes, but as you begin to file out of the stadium with the rest of the stadium, he decides to linger, signalling to a man on the Japanese team – tall, muscular, handsome, spiky brown hair.

“Really? Leaving just like that?”

“I have a friend on that team.”

“You?” 

“Shut up.”

You shrug, smiling as you turn to leave. “Bye then, muffin thief.”

“That’s Toru Oikawa, to you.” 

“Muffin thief,” you call over your shoulder as you disappear into the crowd. 

“Oikawa.” 

“Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s eye twitches, but he grins nonetheless, pulling Oikawa into a hug. “Was that your girlfriend?”

“What? Huh? Really? Is that the first question you ask me after so many years?”

“Nah, she probably isn’t. She’s too pretty for you.”

“Mean.”

But nothing had changed, and he was grateful. 

It’s only late into the night with the fan whirring beside his bed that he can’t help but think about the prospect of you as his girlfriend. He was truly delusional. Especially since he somehow reached the conclusion that he wouldn’t mind it if you just so happened to fall to his charms and confess his love. He’d expect that much, at least.

You barely remember your fourth encounter, but it’s during your final game of the preliminary matches – the one that you have to win, else be cut from the competition. 

You could think of no moment more stressful than serving at a time when you were at game point for the fifth time, and your opponents were creeping up behind you, waiting to snatch the game from you with one mistake. 

It was deafening, the way the spectators roared as you prepared to serve. 

You wished they’d all go quiet. 

The whistle blew, and you let your serve fly, watching as it barely skimmed the net, landing in their court just short of the metre line. 

Your teammates cheer, patting you on the back, but you don’t hear them. 

This is when your coach calls a time out. 

You stand to the side, breathing deeply, the air thick with noise and sweat and air so hot it becomes suffocating around your skin. 

Distantly, the buzzer sounds for the end of time out, and you return to the service line, drowning your thoughts in the noise. 

“Don’t lose concentration!” you hear from the stands behind you. Despite it all, you turn around, searching for the heckler. 

Oikawa sits in the row closest to the front, having lost the cap and sunglasses, waving his arms like a madman. 

“What the fuck,” you mumble to yourself. 

“Look closely!”

“I’m losing concentration because of you, you absolute –”

Then the whistle blows for you to serve, and you abruptly turn back to the game, the insult dying on your tongue. 

What did he mean by ‘pay attention’? He’d just broken the laser focus you were in, and now you didn’t know where you were going to serve. 

Except, there was a massive hole in the opponent’s defence. 

They were now accustomed to your short serves that just landed within the metre line. 

You make a mental note to thank Oikawa if your serve went in, and slam your serve so hard that their defence has no time to register the change. 

Your serve lands on the line, nearly out of bounds. 

Your team sighs in relief, finally pulling ahead of the deuce, securing the match. 

“Japan takes the win! That’s their star player for you, landing service aces all across the court!”

“I told you!” you hear from behind again. 

You turn around, meeting his eyes. 

His smile is endearing. Dimples, and his nose slightly scrunched. It’s contagious. 

You smile back, waving, then become crushed underneath the weight of your team as they jump onto you, screaming and laughing and crying. 

He helped you make it to the finals, and somehow, it was better than an apology. 

The fifth time you meet – and one of the last – you’re, once again, in the cafeteria, craving molten bliss in the form of one of those chocolate muffins. You hope the Gods have heard your prayers, and that there would still be some left, even at this late hour. 

“Oh, you’re here?”

“Yeah, why are you?”

“Is that the first thing you wanna say to me?”

“...yes, why would it be any other way?”

He smiles, rubbing the back of his head. Averting your eyes. “Muffin?”

“Huh?”

“This was the last one.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“What have you done with Oikawa? This isn’t the whiny, vengeful guy I know.”

“And you’ve known me for, what, a week?”

You shrug, snatching the muffin from his hands before he changes his mind. “Thanks.”

He sighs. Sits down at one of the tables. You follow suit. 

“So, why Argentina?”

“Really?”

“What? It’s awkward with silence.”

“...I looked up to Jose Blanco.”

“That’s surprisingly sweet.”

“Hey, I can be sweet.”

“I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about the muffin.”

“..Oh.”

“Sorry. You’re alright too, I guess.”

He pouts, but you can’t care less as you bite into the muffin, savouring the chocolate as it melts onto your tongue. 

“Thanks, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“For today. Game point.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Shut up and take my thanks.”

“Alright, fine, fine.” He tilts his head, watching you with his sharp eyes. “You didn’t need my help though. You were good enough on your own.”

“Thanks.”

Quiet lapses in the empty dining hall as you sit, the rows and rows of chairs and tables almost eerie in the dark. 

“Well, I’m going to bed. Too tired after today.”

“Rest up, you deserve it.”

“Seriously, you need to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“This niceness. It’s off putting.”

“I can be nice.”

“No, you can’t. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Fine, I won’t.”

“...right. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

The night carries a chill in it, a cold bliss as the breeze brushes against your skin. Nostalgic, with the moonlight’s glow. 

Oikawa regretted many things. Many of those included not working hard enough, not being fast enough, not being strong enough, but that night, he regretted his cowardice. 

The sixth and final time you meet is after his finals game. You barely see each other after your late night encounter at the dining hall, and you’re both too busy with training now that you’d both qualified. After being knocked out of the competition in the running for second place and barely winning your third place match, your team is exhausted, and your spirits are still high. 

The air of the Olympic village is thick with lethargy and simultaneously the buzz of relief and excitement, cheering echoing across courtyards and buildings. You mill about the front entrance, watching people come and go, waiting for him. You don’t know why, but you feel obligated to congratulate him, your heart still spiralling with the spirit of the stadium. 

You vividly recall his plays, the way he moved as if the world made space for him, the efficacy of his movements and the focus in his eyes that had Japan by the neck. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me.”

“Did you watch my game?”

“I did. Congrats.”

He smiles, and your heart melts a little. “Thanks.”

You smile back, and quiet fills the space between you once again. 

“Are you staying in Japan for a bit after the games?”

“I’m planning to.”

“That’s good.”

“Are you? I mean, you live here, but–yeah. We should play together”

“What?”

“I could set for you?”

You burst out laughing, hunching over, and don’t see as Oikawa's face flushes profusely. 

“Sure. I’d love to see you try to pick up one of my serves too.”

“Wanna bet? I could easily pick up every one of your serves.”

“Sure, pretty boy.”

“No aces, you owe me another muffin.”

“Huh? How does that work?”

“Figure it out, loser.”

You indignantly narrow your eyes, crossing your arms. “And if I do score an ace on you?”

“You get a muffin.” 

You roll your eyes at his childlike antics. “Sure. Just make sure you’re ready to go bankrupt.”

You wake the next morning to your team manager banging on your door, slamming it open, and shoving her phone in your face. You blink blearily, abruptly pulled from senseless dreams and the warmth of sleep to a grainy photo of the unmistakable tall, broad shouldered figure of Oikawa, and you beside him, laughing together. 

“Care to explain? Why are there dating rumours? What do you think you’re doing?”

You grumble, turning over. For now, you’d relish in your dreams of a certain volleyball player and glorious chocolate muffins. 

written by @atlaswav , published 28th of January 2025

[yeahthatwouldbedark]

Yen per second

tropes: death trope, friends to lovers, rivals to lovers, bully romance bestie, college au, friends with benefits I guess, Oikawa and reader have known each other since childhood.

trigger warnings (for the entire series): child abuse, domestic abuse, sexual abuse, bullying, depression, child neglect, terminal illness at some point, broken home, mental breakdowns, panic attacks, anxiety, death, injuries (Oikawa’s bad knee for example), substance abuse.

Chapter 7

11k words

January 17th

It’s such a cold day that it’s a wonder there are humans around with their limbs still functioning. A week has passed since the people of Tokyo last saw a sunray spear through the grey clouds. You could argue that at least there is snow pelted on the earth, a child’s dream come true, but even that isn’t enough to rid people of the desire to rush inside cafes where the promise of warmth and a cup of coffee is sure to be kept.

That’s the good thing about days like this. Tables are occupied which means more money for the cafes. There’s also the part about not being able to hear yourself think or your partner talk seeing as there is not a table at which a conversation isn’t being had. The world is alive with whispers, laughter, sighs, shoes clacking, fingers tapping, and the aroma of coffee.

It's been 17 days since they struck the deal. A week ago, Tooru helped her move into her apartment in the same building where Rin lives. Every day, he waits for her at the University’s front gate and when they’re both finished with work and volleyball training, he accompanies her back to her apartment. It takes some time to get used to him getting her hot cocoa with extra sugar (and a caramel mocha latte for himself) or him helping calm her nerves when she’s thrust into a discussion during class by rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

It’s honestly nerve-wracking. Almost overwhelming. Once or twice, she’s had to flee from him and to the nearest restroom. When she returns, he’s always there, waiting for her with a smile. She always feels anxious, entranced, and flustered when she sees him smile. It’s frustrating.

Yet, here they sit at a café after he suggested she change her study setting once in a while.

“So,” Tooru begins, eyes roving over Y/n’s face, which is presently buried in her ‘Social Psychology’ textbook, “There’s this gathering with volleyball players that I’ve been invited to.”

Her gaze barely flits upward before it’s back on the page, “That’s nice. Which teams are attending?”

Encouraged by her polite interest in the topic, Tooru smiles and puts the book aside, ready to enumerate.

“EJP Raijin. MSBY Black Jackals. Tachibana Red Falcons.” He counts on his fingers, “A bunch of other teams. And us, of course, The Tokyo Black Jaguars.”

He takes a sip of his coffee before continuing, in hopes that it will steel his resolve against the debilitating fear of rejection.

“And I was hoping you’d come with me.” He pops the proposal.

This time, Y/n’s eyes are alight with something akin to surprise and confusion. Hesitation is apparent in the way her fingers toy with the corner of the page she was reading prior to looking up.

She looks away and supports her head on her left palm. “I don’t think I should.”

Tooru’s face falls. Before he can wallow in self-pity, he takes the time to study her expression, concealed behind a curtain of dark hair though it may be. She’s not as focused as she was before he brought up the topic of the gathering. Unable to concentrate, her eyes flit from the top of the page to the bottom and her face now sports a barely perceptible frown. She’s frustrated at herself for not managing to get it together.

“If this is about you being scared that I’ll do something,” Tooru assures, absentmindedly tracing the curve of the cup’s handle. “I promise I won’t.”

“It’s not about that,” Y/n says at once. Realizing the speed at which she delivered the response, she looks up, almost startled. Looking anywhere but at him, she elaborates a little further, “Rin is in EJP Raijin. And he’s mad at me.”

Tooru’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “Suna? Mad at you? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, I managed to piss him off.” She shrugs and brings her cup to her lips. “As is my habit.”

Tooru wants, more than anything at this moment, to help her understand that nothing about her warrants mistreatment. When he looks back on how things used to be, he can’t think of a single moment at which his personal issues didn’t distort his perception of her. For years, his image of her had been painfully unfair. For years, his fractured perception of himself had gotten in the way of them being there for each other.

He makes an effort to smile. “There’s another reason, isn’t there?”

Y/n can tell there’s some cream on her lips as she puts down her cup. It makes heat rise to her cheeks as she licks it off. Normally, she’d be glad of the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that she doesn’t want to be ‘gross’ in his eyes. Not when they’re trying to be friends for the first time.

“Are you sure you want to go with me?” She tries to ask without betraying a hint of nervousness.

“I’ve been rehearsing how to ask you since I received the invitation.” His lips spread in a grin. “So, yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“And you won’t be ashamed to have me by your side?”

“Honestly,” Tooru croons, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’d be upset if you weren’t there.”  

For the first time since they met again, she feels like laughing. Truly laughing. It sounds downright absurd to hear him say that her absence would spoil his mood. All she allows herself is a small, close-lipped smile.

“Is there a dress code? Or theme?”

“Yes, it’s formal.” He affirms, nodding, “And I’d love to help you assemble your outfit.”

She doesn’t take him seriously. “Okay, Oikawa.”

Without him realizing it, Tooru’s lips morph into a pout.

“Ugh,” He groans, “When are you gonna get used to being on a first-name basis with me?”

“Sorry, force of habit.” She answers honestly. “So, when’s the gathering?”

At that, Tooru perks up like a toddler being told that the most recent Barbie doll is now available at the nearest store. Hope is alight within him.

“This Saturday at 6 PM.” He says, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30 since it’s almost a 40-minute drive to the destination.”

“You wanna be fashionably late so bad.” Y/n rolls her eyes.

Placing a hand on his chest, he acts offended, “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Are you not embarrassed?”

Tooru pretends to inspect his nails.

“I’ve done worse things.” He says nonchalantly.

“Yeah, you once forgot to delete the porn from your flash drive-

He snaps up his head and raises an eyebrow. “That presentation was iconic I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then you started panicking after accidentally clicking on it.”

“It was adorable.”

“You literally had mating press in there.”

Tooru’s brain stops working for a second. “I thought nobody caught on.”

“Well, they didn’t because they were slow readers.” She says, tugging down the sleeves of the sweater under her desert brown coat. “Their English was awful. And you did some damage control pretty quickly.”

He shuts his eyes and an air of unfathomable flamboyance possesses him as he rubs at his temple in feigned agony.

“God, I was so iconic for that.” He recalls fondly.

Again, Y/n has to make a significant effort to suppress the mirth that fights to escape her chest. Maybe she should let loose, feel the laughter vibrate within and all around her. She only laughs when she’s drunk, and the memory is something her mind spurns. Her joy likes to collect dust, that of home, classrooms, parties, gatherings, and so on. It hoards the dust, concealing itself in its particles. It would take a typhoon to blow away the dirt.

Across from her, Tooru’s watchful gaze roams every part of her it can reach. Her complexion has always been pallid, bordering on sickly, but sometimes it takes on the rosy hues of cherry blossoms. On certain occasions, when he wasn’t being utterly vicious toward her or when Mattsun would wrap his volleyball blazer around her shoulders, her cheeks would bloom.

Her hair, far from ashen, stood in stark contrast with the majority of her features. It was a dark shade of brown and straight while her lips were pink and heart-shaped. Her cheeks, unlike her body, still carried some of the plumpness of childhood, with some semblance of a jawline to provide some polarity. She reminded him of the liminal space between winter and spring.

Y/n catches him staring, the corner of his lips angled upwards and his head tilted.

“What?” She asks.

“Nothing,” He answers, “Was just wondering what color would look gorgeous on you.”

When he doesn’t elaborate immediately, she shoots him an expectant look, “Well, which one is it?”

“Hmmm, black for sure. Emerald and forest green. Sapphire or midnight blue.” He pauses, picturing her in the entire spectrum. “Red. Maroon, garnet, and wine red specifically.”

“Well… damn.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You disagree?”

“No, I just don’t have dresses in those colors.” She confesses, scratching the lip of the table. “My formal outfits are more on the preppy, academic style. I just never imagined I’d get to attend any formal gatherings so I didn’t bother with the dresses.”

Tooru wants to point out the ridiculousness of it all. Being the best student in their year means that she’s bound to receive offers and be invited to gatherings in the near future. But maybe that’s it. Maybe she believes that, just like in high school, her achievements will be downplayed in favor of someone else’s charisma, popularity, or wealth. That she will only be given crumbs of the recognition she deserves.

Not under Tooru’s watch.

He grins so stupidly that he can sense the wariness in her posture.

“You know what this means?” He asks, leaning forward once again.

“What?”

“Guess.”

“Why are you so excited all of a sudden?”

His leg won’t stop bouncing in anticipation. “C’mon guess!”

“Jesus, Tooru I don’t know.” Y/n sighs, exasperated.  

“I,” He declares, threading the fingers of her left hand, which have been chipping away at the edge of the table for the past few minutes, with those of his right one. “Get to take you shopping. And no, you may not refuse this offer. Thus, it has been decreed by moi that we shall promenade about the mall on Friday.”

She’s so startled by the boldness of his proposal slash decision that she can only stare in shock. Tooru has offered to take her shopping or eat out before⸺ the day after Chiharu and she brought him up to their apartment, drunk off his ass, the festivals during which his mom would entreat him to keep her company, and only once before… when he got his pride so severely wounded by a girl that he just had to show her what she was missing.

In retrospect, these moments were somewhat nostalgic, and bittersweet, with heartache and lessons built into them like steel in the foundations of a building. She couldn’t just shake off every past experience, as uncomfortable as it made her to relive them in her flesh. She couldn’t be rid of the thought that, if she took him up on the offer, she would essentially be indebted to him. This changed everything.

“Any thoughts you’re having about paying me back,” he says softly. His brown eyes are warm and inviting. “Silence them.”

She nods silently and flips open the book. Their fingers remain threaded.

The popsicle all but melts down to the heel of Tooru’s palm as he stands with his back to the open window in his bedroom. It’s the peak of summer heat and there is little to no wind to ruffle the curtains, which makes any activity a pain in the ass. That’s why the four of them are here; gathered in his room instead of sweating the hours away. Iwa, Maki, and Mattsun are seated on the floor where it is cool, the fan not far to Maki’s left. They’d be afraid of catching a cold if it weren’t for their hatred of the heat, a sentiment shared by Tooru. There’s only one annoying, prickly problem.

“Where does she even go every summer break?” He voices out the question that has been gnawing at him for the past two weeks.

Maki looks up at him. “Y/n?”

The mere mention of her name has him cringing.

“The fuck you talking about?” Says Iwaizumi, throwing down two cards, the sight of which makes Maki groan. “You know she goes to her aunt’s house in Tokyo.”

Tooru frowns briefly before it turns into a teasing smirk. “How come you know so much about her, Iwa?”

“Just because you don’t want her around,” Iwaizumi states, “Doesn’t mean others don’t either.”

That makes him want to roll his eyes, but his eyes seem dead set on staring at the floor. Suddenly, the creamy tiles are the most interesting thing that ever existed. Maybe if he stares at it long enough, he’ll think about something other than the fact that the room sharing a wall with his has been empty for exactly 14 days. That’s a hard ‘maybe’, as I well know.

“Woohoo,” Whistles Maki, his grin a stark contrast to the frustrated groan from before. “Our Tooru misses Y/n? Look at him frowning.”

Mattsun follows up with, “Oop, he’s glaring now. So scary.” 

“Motherfcuker probably just misses making fun of her.” Iwaizumi joins in, focusing on the cards for the most part. “Your turn.”

What Maki says next as he plucks two cards from his spread stuns Tooru. It sews his mouth shut, barbed wire woven into his lips, and the words tug on it like enraged prisoners within a cell.

“To be honest some of the things he does could be considered criminal offenses.”

Fingers curling under the windowsill, he fights to select the right words. And fails.

“Like I’ve done anything serious.” Tooru mumbles, “You guys are mean.”

It’s quiet for exactly 37 seconds, with the exception of the fan working its magic and the boy’s muttering, before Iwaizumi decides to bring up the topic of her again, much to his Captain’s chagrin.

“She has a boyfriend last I heard.” He says ever so nonchalantly.

But Tooru has never, and I mean never, wanted to pummel Iwaizumi into the dirt as much as he does at this very moment. He wants to grab Iwaizumi by the hair and drag him down the stairs and then across the concrete until he’s nothing but a pathetic version of his handsome self. Because, no matter how much he tries to convince himself that the words just spoken are but a figment of his imagination, the incredulous looks on Maki’s and Mattsun’s faces force him to confront this disillusioning reality.

“What?!” the two boys bark out in unison.

“Why the surprised faces, you bastards? She’s a cute girl and extremely smart.” Iwaizumi says, frowning, “Never met anyone so intelligent before if I’m being honest.”

Maki nods, sighing. “Whenever she speaks, I feel so fucking dumb. Still like hearing her talk though.”

“Yeah,” Mattsun says, almost as if he’s daydreaming as he abandons his spread to lie down on the floor. “She has really pretty lips.”

“Which lips?” Snickers Maki.

Mattsun side-eyes him and Iwaizumi kicks him in the shin.

“Don’t be a pervert man.” He chides. “She’s our friend.”

“C’mon, you know I didn’t mean it,” Maki grumbles, rubbing the sore spot. “Who even is this guy, anyway? Did she tell you?”

“Beats me.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “I just complained about being stressed out and she started talking about aesthetics and psychology and how she and this guy send each other moodboards. Making them helps them to relax apparently. Sharing them is good too because you get to talk to the other person about the meanings.” Tooru can almost feel his best friend’s gaze on him as he continues, “Didn’t mention the guy’s name though.”

If she had told him, would his best friend tell him anything or would he keep it a secret in fear of Tooru jeopardizing the one good thing that’s happened to her in a long while? Was that why she hadn’t told him the guy’s name? So that Tooru would have no way of knowing? Why did he want to know? Why was there this gnawing need to know everything about her, this urge that only serves to reduce his conscience to nothing? He doesn’t feel in control. It’s all hurtling down a downward slope at full speed.

“He could be just a friend.” Mattsun points out.

Iwaizumi doesn’t appreciate it in the least when people simply assume the worst of Y/n. To him, from the moment they met on the playground as kids, she’s been the sweetest; quiet but assertive when it counted and willing to help if help was sought. Her appearance is naturally fragile, delicate, and sometimes unhealthy looking to the point where he has to watch her eat in order to be able to sleep at night.

Then there’s always her quiet admiration of Tooru and his blatant disregard for her feelings. Voice full of mockery. His touch always a tad too rough. His obsessive need to be near her followed by his repulsion at the proximity. The constant verbal harassment (and sometimes physical) that those mindless sheep at school put her through just because his best friend decided years ago that she would be the recipient of his pain.

It’s about time she met someone who would cling to her words and be in awe of her. It’s about time Tooru stopped being the undeserving recipient of what she wanted to give.

“Why is it so fucking hard for you fuckers to believe that someone could like her.” He grits out.

“Not that. It’s just…” Mattsun shoots a meaningful glance at Tooru, which the boy doesn’t catch as he’s far too preoccupied with the way the underside of the sill feels against his fingertips. “You know.”

Tooru, who has tuned out everything after learning that Iwaizumi doesn’t know the guy’s name, feels anger bubble in his chest. A frothing, mordant thing.

“That’s nonsense.” He bites out.

The three boys regard him with expressions that vary just the slightest from one another. Iwaizumi’s frown of displeasure says enough about how he feels about Tooru’s unsolicited input, despite the conversation taking place in his bedroom. Maki remains unfazed, having gotten used to his Captain’s antics whenever Y/n was concerned. As for Mattsun, he looked equally curious and confused.

“No one could ever like her.” Tooru’s throat feels tight yet his voice comes out as grave. “She’s odd and short and weak and a social reject.”

Nails scraping under the sill, he resumes his tirade.

“She’s so fucking annoying with her silence and even more annoying with her rambling. She’s so fucking useless and worthless but thinks she’s above everyone else.” His gaze bores holes into the floor. “I wish she would just leave once and for all. Maybe I’d find peace.”

A few seconds later, Maki scoffs, “No, you wouldn’t.”

Tooru can’t stand to look him in the eye but resolves that he must if he is to show that he’s convinced of the things he’s just spouted. The game is over, having long been abandoned in favor of the latest gossip.

“She’s not even here, and look at you.” Iwaizumi gestures to him, eyes roving all over Tooru’s body, “All worked up. Spouting hatred for her. Acting like a little bitch desperate for attention.”

It takes everything in him not to stomp his foot like a toddler at a convenience store who has just been denied his favorite candy.

“You guys,” He cries out, internally begging them to see where he’s coming from, even if Tooru himself doesn’t, “She’s the one who wants to take everything away from me! She’s the one who’s desperate. She-  

“Look man,” Mattsun says, supporting his weight on his elbows, “You may have convinced the rest to be assholes to her. And we may not be able to stop them all. But don’t try to do the same with us.”

It’s true. It’s wasted effort to try and make them see her through the same distortive lenses that settle over his eyes when in her presence. They will never understand the feeling of perceiving every little thing she does as an attack on his pride. Every smile is an attempt to steal something that rightfully belongs to him. Every word is her trying to worm her way into his life, coating every thought with her essence, and threading her presence in the little things that were his alone until his heart rate accelerates.

He’s always trying to accomplish things at a faster rate when it comes to running from or toward her, appearing godly or hellish when he knows her eyes are set on him. He’s never at peace. He’s not sure he knows what that is.

“Whatever.” He says evenly and crashes on his bed.

Not a minute later, Mattsun whispers, “What does he have against short girls?”

“Not against.” Maki snorts. “Just ‘in’.”

Tooru hurls a pillow at his head.

“Y/n-chan!”

Ayame’s voice can be startling thing sometimes. Like finding an open bag of candy on the countertop; surprising but welcome.

“You sound happy.” Said Y/n with a smile, hoping it didn’t show in her speech.

She could hear rustling on the other end. Probably Haru rummaging through plastic bags.

Ayame got straight to the point, as she always did whenever overcome with excitement.

“Haru-chan said I can help with the organization of the exhibition.”

“Really?” Y/n wished Ayame’s enthusiasm would rub off on her. She wished she could let it happen. “That’s good. We’ll have to set like a time for our meetings.” Tapping the pencil on the open notebook, she looked at the calendar on the computer. “Is Wednesday and Thursday fine with you? I know you’d rather go out with Kuroo on the weekends than do this.”

She could practically see Ayame do that pronounced shake of her head.

“That’s fine.” The girl said. “Should we do it at your place or ours?”

“Mine is fine. You can spend the night here when we’re done.”

For a moment, Y/n thinks the line has gone dead or that Ayame has hung up after relaying the message. But if that is so, why can she still pick up on the girl’s breathing? The sniffle that trickles through the device; how can emotions pass through something that had died?

“Y/n-chan.” Ayame speaks her name, and it startles her.

Y/n hums, the pencil going still. “Hmm.”

And with that, comes the deluge… the apology.

“I’m sorry.” Her friend says, and for a moment Y/n cannot put her finger on what the apology refers to or tell if it is true. Still, the girl on the other end continues. “I’m sorry for what I said that night. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. I was angry but I didn’t mean it.”

It is a deluge. Y/n does not know which of them is drowning. But she can picture Ayame, right there, crying as she poured her heart out. She can see herself, submerged, with only the following words bubbling up to the surface.

“It’s okay.” She sounds firm, even, all the things she’s been forced to realize that she’s not.

More sniffling on the other end, and then a feeble, “Really?”

“Really.” But is it the truth of what she feels? Y/n isn’t ready to face that, to feel it, and the pencil grows heavier between her fingers. “I forgot to mention. We can’t meet up tomorrow. I’m… attending this event with Oikawa so I won’t be home until midnight. If not later.”

That’s when Chiharu gets closer, so close even, that the phone call is sticky with the sound of her chewing. “Wait. Tooru invited you?”

Y/n nods and little stars begin to take shape on the margins of her notebook. “Yeah, today.”

More chewing. “You guys are basically buddies now, huh.”

“We’re taking the same classes and presented a project together.” She pretends that it’s nothing, that speaking of him isn’t like dragging a heavy suitcase while all she can hear is the screeching of its broken, missing heels. “Also, he’s your cousin and hangs out with us on the regular. More often than I do, that’s for sure.”

“That’s because you won’t get your nose out of those fucking books for one second!”

Meeting her barking tit for tat, Y/n mutters, “And I’ll keep doing just that.”

“Please, Y/n we need love!” Here come Haru’s theatrics, making her smile. “Why are you starving us?”

“Kuroo copycat.” Her wrist keeps moving and the stars come alive with color.

The chewing stops. “I’m going to block you.”

Y/n shrugs even though they can’t see her. “Wouldn’t you hate that more than me?”

“Oh, fuck you!” The girl on the other end cusses out, laughing and choking at the same time. “You’re right.”

January 19th

Tooru is thinking of her while the fury of winter bangs against his bedroom windows, howling for entry. He is thinking of her pulling down the sleeves of her sweater, the expanse of her neck hidden under that thick blue scarf, the supple flesh of her palms, and the purple hue that took over as his gaze traveled up to her fingertips. He is thinking of the stealthy yet sincere smiles, their existence further dimmed by the shade of a tree, the haze of a rainstorm, or the brightness of a summer day.

Tooru is in his sleepwear, a pitcher of water and bottle of pills on the nightstand to soothe the migraine that overran his wish to stay up until late just an hour after the two of them parted ways. Tooru is just about to swallow another when he hears the notification sound. The number is not one he recognizes, and he would have blocked the person on the other side if it weren’t for that very first message.

Unknown number: Tooru-nii

It has him getting into a sitting position with such haste that the phone almost slips from his shaky hold.

His little half-sister, Shigeko, already has his number and she messages him whenever she wants or can. Tooru’s responses are far and few between but… he’s playing his part. The point is that her number has long since been added to his contacts. There is only one other person who refers to him as an older brother.

Unknown number: It’s me, Isaac.

Heartbeats grind to a halt.

Unknown number: How are you?

Each text sends another shot of anxiety coursing through his veins. It is worse than the spike of adrenaline he gets when he feels that he might not be able to reach the ball, yet still reaches for it in some way or another. Right now, he doesn’t fight or flee. Tooru is frozen on the spot.

Still, swallowing the jagged stone of fear, he manages to type the following.

You: Hey, buddy! I’m good :D. How are you?

You: What have you been up to lately?

Not even five seconds later, he receives a response from the boy.

Unknown number: Tooru-nii!!!

Unknown number: It really is you! I wasn’t sure if I got the right number!

Tooru can almost hear Isaac vibrating with excitement. Or perhaps… it is a sigh of relief.

Unknown number: Nothing :) (replying to “What have you been up to lately?”)

Unknown number: I’m studying for exams so I’m really tired

Before Tooru can attempt to ask him about his social life, maybe about a girlfriend if he has one, or how his parents are faring, the boy says the one thing he was hoping he wouldn’t.

Unknown number: but I really need to ask you something

Despite knowing where it will inevitably lead, Tooru tries to act normal. He can barely get his hands to stop shaking before he types in the one-word response.

You: Shoot!

Hours later, he will think about what he could have done to derail the conversation. He will drink himself until he is but a heap of muscle and bone and his sheets are damp with his snot, sweat, and tears. But now he can only sit here, feeling the vibrations of his phone as the texts surge in.

One after another. Desperate. Pleading. Oikawa is not ignorant of the trickle of shame within him.

Unknown number: do you know where nee-chan is?

Unknown number: no one knows

Unknown number: no one

Unknown number: she just left

Unknown number: and she didn’t say goodbye

Unknown number: I didn’t say goodbye

Unknown number: but no one talks about her. It’s like no one cares and I can’t do anything

Unknown number: I just thought maybe you did

Tooru can feel his eyes warm up. The sting of tears is an all-too-familiar sensation by now, as is the clogging of his throat.

I just thought maybe you did. Tooru doesn’t have the time to ponder why that is. His hands are trembling and he’s holding the wrist of his right hand in place as he types so it won’t slip from his sweaty grip. It still does. The device remains on the bed for a moment, and Tooru stares down at it, chest heaving.

Then he plucks up the nerve to type a response that is both truthful and… disappointing.

You: Isaac

You: I know where she is

He considers divulging the details of her address, putting the young boy out of his misery, but then he tries to remember the last time she spoke of her family- truly spoke that is. Since their reunion, rare have been the occurrences when she’d let some childhood memory involving her family slip past her lips. Even then, it was mostly hushed, unintelligible, broken phrases, chopped bits she bit into and chewed; a process of regurgitation. He wonders if her tongue aches, if the words wear away at her throat.

She will perceive Tooru informing Isaac of her whereabouts as a confirmation that he hasn’t changed, that he is still that boy who would humiliate her or sit back and watch as others picked up his slack.

You: but I can’t tell you, buddy

He hesitates before typing a second message.

You: she doesn’t want to see anyone from back home

The message is clear, concise. It doesn’t divulge her whereabouts, only her boundaries. Tooru cannot imagine it stings any less.

Unknown number: Tooru-nii

Unknown number: nee-chan is in Tokyo?

Panic grips him by the throat. He can only let out a choked sound as he scrambles to kneel on the bed. Was it something he said? Did he overlook some small yet significant detail in his message?

One shaking hand holds up his phone as he types frantically. The other clutches the blanket for dear life.

You: Isaac please don’t look for her

He waits. He waits for the “typing” to cease and for a message to appear, conveying the boys understanding of the situation. Minutes pass, and Tooru waits.

When it becomes clear that his plea will receive no response, he sinks his teeth into his trembling lower lip, biting down until he tastes blood. The phone makes no sound as it slips his loose grip and the hand, now empty, finds purchase in the blankets alongside the other. He heaves and chokes as curses slip through his parted lips.

Suddenly, his every need, objective, urge, and base instinct converge to set a scene before him. He sees himself in this play. In this wretched, foul play. To become one with it, Tooru runs out of the bedroom and into the moonlit expanse of the living room and opens the first bottle he can find. The glass is cold. On its way down, the liquor does not burn.

Rin is on his second joint, eyes fixated on the movie playing on the TV⸺ the story of a young man and woman who are obviously in love and clearly never meant to be seeing how he never even invited her to prom⸺ when Atsumu turns to him and gives him the same look as the night he stormed home with a storm in his eyes (as he’d called it) and slammed his bedroom door with such force the hinges rattled in the otherwise silent apartment.

“You look down.”

Rin answered with the same old, “It’s nothing.”

Atsumu has let him be for the past few weeks. Whenever he asks, Rin answers to the worst of his abilities, and so he drops the subject. Not tonight, apparently.

“Why don’t you talk to me, bro?” His friend asks, and Rin feels him shift on the sofa.

He can feel those brown eyes of his pinned to his profile, brows scrunched in worry. It is a tentative kind of worry, the kind that has you feeling guilty for being unforthcoming and vague in your responses even if it’s not to burden the same person who worries for you.

Rin does not move to face.

“New Year’s Eve.” He releases a puff of smoke. “Y/n and I kissed. And then something happened so I left.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Atsumu’s eyes widening. Maybe he’s excited for Rin but knows better than to show it considering the kiss… apparently didn’t lead to a happy ending.

“What happened exactly?” His friend asks instead.

Rin shrugs and for a moment he wants to drop the blunt on his lap and watch the tip burn into the fabric.

“One thing led to another and it ended up with my tongue in her mouth, touching her while she described how I flirt with the people I end up fucking.” His throat constricts a little at the end. “She said that I don’t disappear with her the way that I do with them because I don’t see her that way.”

To his credit, Atsumu doesn’t speak. He lets silence and all that preceded it settle like dust on furniture. Rin rubs his finger on the arm of the sofa, picking at the fabric.

“I’m sorry man.” His friend says, uncharacteristically hesitant. “She probably-  

“Why does she always feel the need to dictate how others feel about her?” It comes out of him unbidden. The words had fermented in his saliva for weeks and now they were good enough to spit out. “Why does she always assume she’s forgotten?”

Rin sort of hopes Atsumu can’t see the way he has to swallow before picking up where he left off. He hopes the dim, grey glow of the screen isn’t enough to strip him naked.

“It upset me so I left and when I went back looking for her… she wasn’t there.” Another couple in the bed where he’d kissed her and the sweet scent that lingered faintly on the silken bedsheets; apparated before his eyes with every word. “She wasn’t at the party at all.”

Atsumu looks at the TV, but Rin knows it’s him he’s watching, not the girl… Marianne is her name.

“So, you think she’s mad?”

“Maybe.” Answers Rin. The blunt in his hand gets smaller by the second. “Not sure about ‘mad’. But she’s confused and upset for sure.” Maybe guilty, he thought. “And I don’t know how to approach her without sounding like a douche.”

“Well, fuck.” “I mean my girl and I; we argue sometimes. It’s mostly my fault cuz I can get really annoying-

“Color me surprised.”

“I’m trying to be cool and supportive here!” That provokes a chuckle out of Rin which, in turn, makes Atsumu smile. “You know I’ve always been a player. I always thought I wanted someone or something but changed my mind once I got what I wanted. It’s the reason she didn’t really want me in her life at first.” The smile grows and it looks genuine. Rin has only ever seen it when he speaks of his brother or in the showers after a victory. “But I’m trying to be good for her. It’s a nice change of pace.”

Then, Atsumu pats his shoulder in encouragement, giving him a crooked smile as a treat.

“If you’re sorry for leaving, then just apologize.” Rin side-eyes him. Atsumu has never been one for apologies, unless you count the insincere, forced, and petty strings of words that he insists are good enough to express regret. “I’m serious, dude. Even if she doesn’t forgive you, which I doubt, then at least you’ll know she’s no longer wondering what she did wrong.”

That’s the thing, though. Atsumu doesn’t know her as well as Rin does if the latter ever knew her at all. He has counted the stars on his ceiling until they fell asleep, cuddled next to each other, splashed her with seawater, felt her arms around his waist… and she feels no more familiar than a ghost that haunts his dreams.

Still, he sighs out the smoke, stumps the blunt into the tray, and concedes, “Alright. I’ll try.”

“You won’t have to try too hard. She just moved in next door.”

His neck hurts from how fast he snapped it in Atsumu’s direction. For a moment, he is certain a wintry chill has infiltrated their apartment. Rin feels it beneath his clothes.

“Stop shitting me,” Rin bites out in disbelief.

Atsumu must not be feeling the cold because he grunts out. “I’m not shitting you, dude. She lives three doors down.”

January 21st

It’s raining when Tooru comes to pick her up. He’s cladded in a black turtleneck, dark jeans, and a grey coat that reaches a few inches above his ankles. His hair is a bit damp from the few minutes he spent crossing the distance from his car to the entrance of the apartment building. How he was able to find parking in such unforgiving weather, is a miracle, but Y/n isn’t complaining. Neither is her roommate, Livia, who announced his arrival with a shout and barged into her bedroom demanding Y/n spill everything she knew about the scrumptious young man currently sitting on their living room couch. Y/n told her his name, which she’d learned by then, that he was her classmate at the University, and that she was to accompany him to an event tomorrow. Livia had let out a dreamy sigh, grabbed her by the shoulders, and told her to make the night count.

Y/n herself shoves on a black turtleneck, a checkered beige skirt with black tights underneath, black boots, a beige coat, and the midnight blue scarf to top it all off. The last item doesn’t match the rest of the outfit, which she’s well aware of, but it’s so smooth and warm that she can’t bear to part with it.

Tooru greets her with a beaming smile and they head out after bidding Livia goodbye.

“Is there a brand you like?” He asks after turning the key and the engine roars to life. “So that we can narrow down our options.”

Y/n bites her inner cheek, trying to come up with an answer that’s not entirely embarrassing. One glance at him out of the corner of her eye and she can tell he’s waiting for an answer.

“I mean, it’s not like I know much to begin with. I mostly thrift.” She answers truthfully. “But from what I’ve seen on Pinterest… Dior and Chanel, I suppose. The 90’s vibe. And Elie Saab.”

Tooru hums, picturing her in dresses from each brand, then smiles. “Elie Saab it is.”

Then, because an awkward silence has taken over, one that Y/n finds as uncomfortable as a pair of too-tight shoes, she decides to continue the conversation as he rounds the corner that leads out to the main street.

“I know their work from Pinterest,” She says, “But you must have seen it up close and personal.”

Tooru chuckles.

“Well, yes.” He admits, glancing at her only briefly. “For all his absence, my dad has never failed to pay child support for both my older sister and me. So, we’ve always been loaded and spending money left and right.”

Y/n huffs and faces the window. “Rich people behavior.”

“Can’t argue with that.” His laughter fills the car, and it’s suddenly a little warmer. “Growing up, our mom would try to make us see the value in the small things. Like saving up and sharing. And she did succeed with one of us. Sayako-nee grew up to be generous, kind, understanding, and caring. The only person she is nothing like this with is our father, which is understandable.” There’s a pause and Y/n thinks he’s finished talking so she turns to look at him. His grip on the steering wheel, as he stares ahead, could shatter bones. “And I’m me. Always hoarding whatever I’m given, relentless in my greed, with corrosive envy and ravenous pride. Always spending because I know my future is set in stone, for better or for worse.”

Y/n doesn’t know how to respond to that. She’s not sure whether she’s supposed to say anything at all. He looks a little lost like her presence in the seat beside him barely registers in the fog of his mind. If her intuition doesn’t deceive her, Tooru looks torn and indescribably lonely.

The wet strand of hair that he tucked behind his ear when she came out of her bedroom has dried and taken the shape of a wave. She’d always wanted to ask him if that was his natural hair pattern. Had never dared to. Well, now she knew the answer.

The rest of the car ride is spent in silence even though Tooru knows he could fill it with small talk or his usual teasing, but the energy for that is nowhere to be found. Certainly not within him. He wishes she would strike up a conversation, any conversation, just so he could hear her speak. She has such a whimsical voice after all, like that of an old soul with millennia worth of stories to tell. He wonders how her singing voice would sound. Breathy? Eerie? Remote? Would he ever know?

But after 30 minutes of driving and an additional 10 minutes of trying to find a parking spot in this godforsaken weather, Tooru decides he’s had enough of the unyielding silence. No more. 

“We’re here.” He announces, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Unlike him, Y/n remembered to bring an umbrella, which meant that he would be the one holding the black thing above their heads as they practically ran toward the high-end store two blocks south. Her hand is in his, and he has to stop himself from bringing it to his lips so he can kiss each finger. It’s such a silly thing to wish for while they’re trying to get away from the merciless downpour. But he just can’t help it.

Once they walk through the glass doors of the boutique, they can breathe properly without the fear of catching a cold. The employees greet them- greet him, to be exact. Either he is a regular or it’s obvious how much wealthier than her she is. Either way, they’re kind and helpful as they answer his questions and lead them toward the section with the garments that best fit his description.

Y/n is so distracted by the rich fabrics and bewitching designs that she barely catches what Tooru is saying. He’s standing to her right with what appears to be three dresses hanging from his arm.

“Here,” he says, smiling as he takes her by the elbow and toward one of the changing booths. He hands her the dresses. “Try these on, pretty.”

Tooru takes a seat on the couch and beams at her as she slides the curtain of the changing room to cover her from view. To remark that the dresses are beautiful feels like an understatement. They’re so exquisitely tailored that the design almost seems to come alive; the midnight sky, a silky bed of emeralds, and rubies melting against the balls of her feet. They must cost a fortune.

She takes off her clothes and tries on the emerald green dress first. The material slides down her body with ease, and Y/n finds herself wondering how it is that Oikawa knows her size with such accuracy. Could he tell with just one look or had he perhaps asked his cousin, Chiharu? Either way, it clung to her meager curves just right, even adding them where there were none; the exquisitely cinched waist and the puffed chest area.

“So,” She began after sliding the curtain to the side, “What do you think?”

Tooru can only try to swallow his gasp at the sight of her. His first instinct is to abandon the comfort of his seat and rest his hands on the small of her back. But he doesn’t have that privilege, so all he can

“How does the fabric feel? Is it itchy?”

She nods. “A bit.”

“Thought so.” He hums, pensive, and then points behind her to the clothes hanging from the hanger. “Try the midnight blue dress. The velvet one with the spaghetti straps.”

So, she does and the sense of comfort that envelops her is almost instant. The fabric is smooth to the touch, meaning she could rub her palms over the expanse of her thigh in case the nerves got to her. It is enough, she thinks, to have an escape route even if it’s only in the way of zoning out. 

“Should I try another one?” She asks as she stands before him.

With a smile on his lips, Tooru shakes his head and rises to his feet. At his sides, his hands twitch, almost as if they wish to shed their skin.

“What do you think,” He says instead, “About putting an accessory around your waist?”

“Like a necklace you mean?” 

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, some kind of necklace to emphasize your waist.”

Y/n looks down at her feet and just shrugs.

“If you think so.”

Tooru’s hands itch all the more at her response, and before he knows it, the urge to touch her has won over his restraint.

“Now, on to the shoes.” The enthusiasm bleeds through every word as he takes her hands in his. “You’re a size 37, right? European size.”

She lets him lead the way and when the employee asks her which type of footwear she has in mind, she answers, “I don’t usually go for heels because I have horrible coordination so maybe something that will make me look taller that I can comfortably walk in.”

“Certainly, miss.” The employee waves out her arm. “This way, if you please.”

The employee graciously shows them three pairs of heels she thinks may be a good fit. Tooru takes it upon himself to help her put them on after thanking the woman for her service. The first pair, the color of midnight blue studded with crystals, turns out to be a tad uncomfortable given that the heel exceeds 4 inches in height.

“There.” He fixes the clasp of her left heel. “Are they a good fit?”

She nods, walking to and from the glass shelf a few meters from where they’d been sitting. The second pair has turned out differently, it seems. The heels are not above 3 inches and the backs of her feet don’t feel sore after walking in them.

“I like them.” She tells him once she stops in front of him.

She expects that to be the end of their shopping spree. But Tooru is nothing if not a man full of surprises.

“Now, I know you’re probably gonna freak out about this but hear me out.” He rushes the last part once he catches her wary glance. “Jewelry is absolutely fundamental for the look we’re going for, and you already said yes to the one around the waist. So, I think that a pair of earrings would look stunning on you.”

Y/n places the heels on the floor. “You’re overdoing this.”

“What do you mean?”

She looks up to see him tilt his head in confusion.

“You’re spending too much on me.” She clarifies while putting her socks back on. “You shouldn’t.”

He expects him to groan and whine but Tooru catches her off guard by taking a seat next to her and leaning in close.

“But it’s because I want to. I really, really do,” There it is, the whining. “So please let me.”

“Would you give up if I refused?”

He looks down at his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to, though.”

Y/n doesn’t know why but she relents. He tells her that the earrings will be a surprise. Even after she tells him there can be no surprise when he’s already told her, he insists their exquisiteness will take her unawares. He pinky promises to catch her if she should faint at the sight of them.

July

The afternoon boils with chatter, sweltering heat, and the music blasting from Chiharu’s speakers. They’re at Kuroo’s vacation home, the size of which never fails to amaze Y/n. If she weren’t subconsciously reigning in her facial expresions, she’d be gawking, staring at the huge gate, the fountain before the stairs that led to the main door, the walls of the foyers lined with paintings of exorbitant value, the lush garden with it’s bizarrely trimmed bushes, and so much more of what Chiharu likes to call « rich people bullshit ». She says so right to Kuroo’s face too and he responds by headlocking her as the lot of them file into the house.

They’re halfway up the front steps when Y/n feels a hand on her shoulder, peeling off the straps of her sunset orange backpack. She looks up to find Rin staring at her as if to ask for cooperation.

« Let me help you. »

« It’s not that heavy. » She tells him. « I can carry it upstairs. »

His mouth twitches. « You’re can’t afford to lose 10 inches of height. Give it to me and stand up straight. »

« Your posture is worse. »

« Yeah, » He hooks his index under one of the straps. « But my height can afford it. »

Not wanting to seem weird, Y/n chooses to feel like a burden by letting the boy carry it up to her room, which is opposite hers on what is referred to by rich-boy-Kuroo as the western wing. You’d think it was a castle and not just a really big house. A gargantuan house.

Rin sets her backpack on the bed, carefully might I add. He knows how careful Y/n is about her possessions and doesn’t want to upset her.

After that, they take turns taking showers, Rin letting her go before him while Chiharu and Kuroo get into a shouting match about the towels. Kenma flees the scene with a roll of his eyes while Ayame tries and fails to get them to cool off. Rin ushers her into the bathroom before the quarreling duo have the chance to set their sights on her.

The shampoos smell nice, and they even have labels with their names on them No wonder Kuroo pestered them about their hair types before the trip was decided. His efforts have paid off because Y/n has rarely felt so relieved and clean before.

Maybe it had something to do with the environment as well. This is Kuroo’s house. They aren’t blood related. He does not remind her of home but in a way… she feels that this is what it must feel like. This is how children feel when they come home after a long day of classes. How she wishes the year was made of summers and summers only.

They join Kuroo’s parents, who are delighted to have them over for two weeks, for a light lunch. Y/n sits between Rin and Kenma and joins the rest in their laughter with smiles of her own before catching herself in the act and looking down at her reflection in the bowl of clear summer soup. She’s so embarrassed to have smiled and so anxious about anyone having noticed that she internally scrambles to find refuge in something. Anything that isn’t the joy of those at the table.

Rin reaches for the salt shaker and in the process, she catches a wiff of mint shampoo and the pine scent of his perfume. For a split second, she contemplates easing him down so she could brush her nose against his pulse and breathe him in. But then he’s sagging back into his chair and sprinkling salt onto his vegetables, baring his teeth in a grin as Kuroo cracks another joke. Y/n shakes her head lightly and swallows a spoonful of soup.

They spend the afternoon in their respective bedrooms, and Y/n is glad to see that the maids have turned on the air conditioner so that the room isn’t the equivalent of an oven by the time she gets back. Even the blinds are drawn so that the sun may not heat the carpet, bedding, or furniture. The 2-hour nap she gets is pure bliss.

Ayame wakes her up with a knock at her door, announcing that they are to go for a swim at the beach nearby in about 30 minutes. Y/n promises to join them and tries to remove the sleep from her face by spalshing some water on it, applying some cherry lipbalm, and braiding her hair in a loose crown around her head. She throws on a pair of olive green shorts and a white shirt above her two-piece sage green swimsuit, shoves her feet in a pair of white slippers, and then she’s out the door.

Rin throws his arm around her shoulders, says something she can scarcely hear, and keeps her at his side the entire walk. Y/n doesn’t mind. He smells so good after all, like a pine forest by the sea, and the scent reminds her of the green of his eyes.

Only, she feels warm where his knuckles brush against her own. The evening breeze and the seawater cool down every part of her but the spot that tingles.

She’s content with burying her feet in the sand and watching the rest of them play volleyball⸺ Kuroo and Ayame vs Rin and Chiharu⸺ while Kenma assumes the role of the referee at her side. At one point, Chiharu almost goes for Kuroo’s jugular and it’s only by the grace of Rin’s strength that she does not. The bickering idiots soon get distracted by the promise of the meal Mrs. Yukimiya, the housekeeper, had the maids pack for them beforehand. This way they can ravage the sandwiches instead of each other.

It is then that Rin comes to sit to her right, Kenma having left to nibble on a piece of watermelon.

« Wanna go for a swim? » He asks her.

Y/n tilts her head. « Again? »

« Is there a limit? »

So they head in, submerging before rising to the surface once again. He shakes his head before combing back his wet hair with his fingers and swiping that same hand down his face. His eyes settle on her chest.

« I think your top is loose. » Rin tells her, and her arms instinctively shoot up to shield herself. He cracks a small smile. « Turn around. I’ll tie it for you. »

As he does, her cheeks go aflame, as if it were possible to blush any harder.

« Don’t worry. » He utters, loud enough for her to hear him above the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. « I didn’t see anything. »

She sighs and, when she thinks he’s no longer listening, mutters, « Not like there’s much to see anyway. »

« You have nice tits. »

That single sentence stuns her and the coming wave almost sweeps her under. Luckily, Rin’s fingers wrap fiercely around her forearm, steadying her, and Y/n looks up at him through her wet lashes. He’s laughing but it doesn’t make her feel… small. She feels like joining him.

« I should do that more often. »  He says, splashing water over his toned torso. « It’s fun. »

Y/n follows his example, shivering as a particularly cool breeze sweeps over the beach.

« What is ? » She asks.

There’s a twinkle in his piercing green eyes as his hand comes up to cart through her wet hair. « Catching you off guard. »

As if to distract him from her flaming cheeks (the temperatures are not to blame by the way), Y/n splashes him and swims away. He’s hot on her heel, intent on catching up. Not that it takes long until he does. They swim away and toward the shore time and time again until their limbs tire and the only solutions are to either get out or float. So there they remain, backs to the seabed and faces to the darkening sky, until the edge of the horizon has swallowed the final remnants of the sun.

That night, they gorge on watermelons and lemonade. They’re almost bursting with it by the time Kuroo’s parents have turned in for the night, leaving the teenagers to enjoy the song of the crickets in the garden. The temperatures have significantly decreased and a pleasurable chill hangs in the summer night air.

Y/n is on her 5th glass of lemonade. It trickles down her chin. Before she can grab a napkin from the roll at the center of the table, Rin swipes his knuckles across her lips and chin, effectively doing the job. His attention is elsewhere as he licks off the residue. It’s almost as if the gesture is second nature.

The following two weeks can only be defined as bliss. An unprecedented era of peace in Y/n’s life. She’s surrounded by people who don’t hate her, and even seem to tolerate her. The days are filled with the summer heat, the conversations at dinner after Kuroo’s parents have bid them goodnight, smoking weed when no one is looking, lemonade, watermelons, movie marathons, volleyball and shouting matches, card games the rules of which Y/n can barely understand (it embarrasses her greatly), late night swimming in the outdoor pool, and quick trips by bike to the convenience store. Ayame sits behind Chiharu, Kenma behind Kuroo, and Y/n behind Rin.

« You’re gonna stretch out my shirt. » He says jokingly the first time she settles in the back, her fingers curled around the sides of his shirt. « Here, just warp your arms around me, okay. »  

At first, the proximity seems daunting. It isn’t just proximity after all. Her front is flush against his back, and Y/n fears that Rin will sense her heartbeats through the layers of cloth, flimsy as they may be, and find it pathetic that she feels dizzy because of human contact.

But these thoughts are short-lived. With her cheek pressed to his shoulder, arms around his middle, enveloped in the fresh sea-scented air, Kuroo’s and Chiharu’s hooting laughter, and the way Rin turns his head just the slightest to smile at her… there is no more reason to be ashamed of her rapidly beating heart. They are all on the same page.

She still tutors Rin in the gaps of time that they can’t fill with sleep but everyone else can. They sit smack in the middle of the living room with a fan turned on as she explains trigonometry to him, all while they munch on sandwiches and cantaloupes. Lemonade, of course, is not missing from the menu. At one point, while Rin is laboring to solve a problem and she takes a sip of her lemonade, a laugh escapes her that the boy does not fail to notice.

« What is it? » He asks with a smile on his lips. It’s the first time he’s heard her laugh at… seemingly nothing.

Though she stops laughing, a smile still plays on her lips. « The lemonade looks like you. »

« Like me? » Rin raises an eyebrow, twirling his pen. « How can I resemble a drink? »

Y/n sets down her drink, watches the outer walls of the glass sweat. 

« Your eyes. » She clarifies. « When you look at me it feels the same as when I grab a glass of cool lemonade and drink it. »

« You mean to say I am refreshing. » He teases.

She meets his smile with her own. « I do. »

Too lazy to go to their rooms, they fall asleep on the floor, the glasses of lemonade sweating on the table.

On the last night of their vacation, with his parents’ departure having taken place two days prior, Kuroo decides they need to go all out, and by that, he means they should go through his dad’s alcohol stash and steal some. Unsurprisingly, Chiharu fervently agrees, Kenma doesn’t give a shit, Ayame tells them to be careful, while Rin and Y/n take a bite out of the cold cherry pie.

That is not to say that when Kuroo and Chiharu succeed in their endeavor, the rest do not willingly participate in the debauchery. They drain up to six bottles altogether while singing along to the songs in Chiharu’s playlist. In a rare display of agreeableness, Chiharu and Kuroo shout the lyrics with their arms swung around each other’s shoulders while Ayame tries to blink away the coming sleep.

At one point, the rest of them head inside to cause some ruckus, leaving Rin and her to sit by the pool. You can still hear the music playing loud enough to keep Y/n’s neighbors back home awake. But she doesn’t want to think about that place. It’s nice to dip her toes in the cool water, in new experiences.

“Oh,” She lifts her head, looking in the direction of the house when a new song starts playing, « Depeche mode. »

Rin looks at her in silence for a few seconds, then rises to his feet.

« Let’s dance.” He says, hand outstretched.

Y/n takes it, and together they head to the garden, away from their friends’ prying eyes. The grass cushions their steps as they sway in each other’s arms, and the scent of the flowers envelops them in some feeling akin to excitement and tranquility. This moment, drunk on so sweet a scent, feels a little like falling in love.

“You smell nice,” Y/n mutters into his chest.

His hands travel up from her waist, settling between her shoulder blades. “You feel good.”

They cling to each other like sweat on your sweaty skin during the summer heat. It takes a chilly breeze to sever the embrace. Rin’s hands are still where they were before, fingers trailing up and down the ravine between her shoulders as his eyes photograph the sight of her in his arms.

“I bet kissing you would feel like a leap through time.” He says, smiling a little.

Y/n suddenly misses the cover of his chest. “Why?”

His eyebrows come together as a ponderous expression takes over his features. He seems to be trying to word his response.

“Because it’d be so brief.” He says with a teasing smile. “Hours would feel like a split second. And you’d become impossible to catch up with.”

For a second, her heart stutters in her chest. Her heartbeat becomes an irregular, spluttering thing. It takes all of her drunken courage to look him in the eye and respond to his teasing in kind.

“I’m gonna bet on something too.”

He raises an eyebrow, mouth slightly parted. “Yeah?”

“Bet it felt the same to kiss your cousin’s crush.”

He must not have expected her to bring that up (she’d seen him making out with a girl and later learned that it was indeed his cousin’s crush) because his ministrations on her shoulders come to a halt. Not for long though. He recovers at the speed of sound, his right hand coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb brushes back and forth over the flaming skin.

“You’ve lost the bet then.” He whispers, and somehow Y/n hears him over the music. “I win.”

She hears their breaths synchronize as he leans down, head angled. With her hand over his chest, she can make out the violent waltz of their heartbeats when his lips ghost over hers, the sliver of space between them begging to be consumed. She hears the wind passing through the garden as he leans forward and presses his lips on hers, tongue flicking at her bottom lip and she feels compelled to let him in. It is euphoric to be touched, and he touches her so kindly every time.

His hand, previously on her shoulder, slides down to her waist, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss. In their state of drunkenness, it is amazing they haven’t tumbled to the floor by the time he releases her and they both come up for air.

The music has stopped. Their friends have settled in a quiet rhythm. Or perhaps they have fallen asleep on the couch.  

“See?” Rin whispers, slurring his words as he drags his thumb along her bottom lip. The flesh feels so soft and bruised under his touch. “Too brief.”

Y/n doesn’t know if smiling would be too weird. What matters is that she’s drunk so she doesn’t care about that. She looks up at him with eyes filled with wonder and a smile on her lips. It stays that way long after they’ve fallen asleep in each other’s arms beside their friends.

It is a tragedy that she remembers none of it when the morning creeps up with claws of gold and a promise of tearing them from this summer. Or the summer from them.

Don't even know if there are ppl still reading this fic lmfaooooo

But anyway i still remember some of the people that asked me to tag them. @invyou @kurookinnie @tuttumi the last one is my best friend she's obligated to read my shit you can't escape hoe

[hiejindraws]

Key differences between Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu!! and Gekidan Haikyuu!! (+ Review)

Btw don’t ask me for scans of the pamphlet or bromides bc I didn’t buy them. The only merch I bought was a t-shirt and a towel ok BABY’S ON A BUDGET.

• No “hyper projection” and no rotating stage

• Less emphasis on music and dancing, more on acting

• The stage is level and not on an incline. This means the volleyball net could be on wheels and be rolled around on the stage (in fact, most of the set pieces were on wheels)

• No epic opening or closing sequences

• Very few (if any, I don’t remember) musical interludes—really, there was music only during the volleyball matches

• No Seijoh/Oikawa theme music 🥲 or Nekoma theme (for when they’re briefly mentioned in the announcement of the GW training camp)

• More characters! Seijoh actors doubled as Yukigaoka players/all FOUR members of the Karasuno Neighborhood Association, not just Shimada and Takinoue!

• They really fleshed out the Yukigaoka vs. Kitaichi game! Like, Hinata had actual teammates, it wasn’t just him and Kagz 1 v 1 on the court like it was in the first Haisute (although, I guess it wasn’t technically 1 v 1 then either bc Kindaichi and Kunimi were also there)

• They included even more scenes from the series and stayed even truer to the source material. I think leaving out the music and intense dance breaks opened up a lot of room for this

Some callbacks to Engeki:

• Hinata hums the tune to a musical motif from Engeki but I cannot for the life of me remember which one it was even though I JUST saw it today. If I had to guess (bc the scene involved Hinata imitating Kagz), it was Kageyama’s theme from the first Haisute when he whips off his cape and crown.

• Ennoshita (AND Kinoshita AND NARITA!!) do the “SE〜NO” synchronized clap with the audience (and it made me so so SOOOO happy!!)

Review:

Overall, this production seemed less “dramatic” in the sense that the entire performance (the acting, music, and choreo/blocking) felt very subdued compared to its predecessor. There was certainly a different energy in the theater this time around. My blood didn’t get pumping the same way it did when I saw Start of the Giant and The Tokyo Battle in-person. I believe this artistic direction was intentional. I’m just not sure it’s sustainable.

What I always appreciated the most about Engeki was that the stage performances perfectly matched the high levels of energy the anime possessed. In fact, I would argue it brought even MORE energy than the anime did or ever could in large part due to Wada Shunsuke’s memorable musical compositions and HIDALI’s ingenious choreo.

Music and dance have always been core elements of the OG Haisute to the point that each show had it’s own unique opening/closing sequence, each team had it’s own musical and dance motif, and certain reoccurring events had their own identifiable themes (e.g. the starting lineup before any given match). The true magic of Engeki lied in the music and dancing. Obviously, the cast brought their own magic by always giving 150% to their performances, but they were also matching the energy the music brought THROUGH their dancing/acrobatics. It’s all intricately woven together.

OH, not to mention the original production’s partial namesake: the projections! There was always a level of suspended reality when watching Engeki because the light projections literally helped to merge the manga with the stage. They transformed the stage and backdrop into anything and everything the story needed—manga panels, speech bubbles, a sunset, a volleyball net. They also synced with, you guessed it, the MUSIC to give an absolutely outstanding audio-visual experience.

It really hit me hard when I entered the theater to see that it really was… just a regular stage.

That’s why I question if this production (and any future ones they may have planned) is sustainable. Not in the financial sense… but just in the way of retaining interest. It didn’t get me hooked the same way Engeki did, so I don’t think I’m able to give it the same level of enthusiasm. I’m hard-pressed to believe others feel the same way. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoyed it. It wasn’t bad. It didn’t take anything away from the series… I’m just not sure it added anything to it, either. Sure, there was music and dancing, but it just paled in comparison to what we were gifted by Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu. Makes me wonder why they would take so many steps back with this production.

All that being said… I’m glad I went. I truly did enjoy myself and the cast put their all into these characters. And if nothing else, I’m glad to have gone in support of Suga Kenta (OG Hinata) in his Haisute directorial debut.

[adoringhaikyuu]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request s/o that overworks themselves headcanons for akaashi, suna, iwa, and (if its not too much) Kuroo/Oikawa?? You can ofc switch any of them to whoever you want if you don’t wanna write for them! Thank you!!

WHEN YOU OVERWORK YOURSELF

characters: akaashi + iwaizumi + kuroo + suna + (gn!reader)

warnings: none

notes: this is literally months old i'm so sorry sjfghs i could not find the motivation to write this–

★ akaashi understands that sometimes you get into a certain headspace where you have to work, and feel overwhelmed when you're not working. it happens to him sometimes. but he also knows that when he gets to a point where he's stressed and not taking care of himself, you're always there to bring him back. so he does the same for you, never wanting to see you anything other than happy. he brings tea and a snack for you where you're sitting at the dining room table and sits with you, working on his own things for a little bit to keep you company. after a little while, he stands up, "think we should call it a night, hm?" he brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, his thumb soothingly caressing your skin, practically lulling you to sleep, hypnotizing you to agree. he has a soft smile on his face as he watches you try to find it in you to argue that you need to work more. but before you can say anything, he leans down and kisses you softly, whispering against your lips. "let's go to bed, angel."

★ iwaizumi sighs when he sees you sitting in your office when gets home from work late (well into the night). he wastes no time before literally dragging you away from your desk, glaring at you if you try to complain, squeezing you tighter in his arms if you try to escape. he sets you down in the bed and stares down at you, arms crossed. he looks stern but you can tell he's just worried. "what did you eat today?" when it takes you more than a few seconds to think of a response, he raises a brow. "i guess i don't even wanna know how long you've been sitting in there." he sighs yet again and kisses your forehead, "go take a bath and meet me in the kitchen after, i'll have dinner ready by then. take your time and relax." he looks at you sternly." or else."

★ kuroo facetimes you immediately after he reads your text saying that you'd be working overtime again. you pick up absentmindedly, propping your phone up on the side, eyes still focused on your screen as you worked. after a few seconds of silence, he clears his throat. "kitten, as much as i love looking at you, i did actually call to talk to you." you glance at him apologetically for a brief moment, telling him you just really wanted to get this work done. suddenly he says that something came up and that he'll talk to you later so you both hang up. twenty minutes later you hear a knock at your door and look up to see kuroo leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. "you know you work too hard, right?" you roll your eyes but smile, trying to focus again and get as much work as you can done before he undoubtedly distracts you and/or drags you away. you see him walk towards you from the corner of your eye and subconsciously melt into his touch when he kisses your temple. he looks at his watch, "i'm giving you two minutes at most and then i'm dragging you home so you can cuddle me."

★ suna looks at you deadpan when he walks into the bedroom to find you still working on your laptop. he stands there for a few seconds before coming over to your side. "are you almost done?" you tell him you just finished one thing but were just about to start something else and– "perfect." he closes your laptop and puts it aside before getting into bed and pulling you into his arms, despite your shock and disbelief. you look at him blankly, "i still have work to do, you know." he closes his eyes and holds you tighter, "you need to take a nap with me is what you need to do." well that's that then.

[betbeton]

𓆸 Crush Crush Crush !

Various HQ Men × Reader

Admitting you had a crush on your HQ husband when you were in school

· GN Reader ·

· Twitter Request ·

· A/N - Catching up requests and toying with the idea of writing some obey me pieces ·

・❥・Masterlist

⪧ Sugawara Koushi

The moment your mutual friend made an off handed comment about your embarrassing year ten crush on Suga the smug little snot was on the edge of his seat. As he prodded them for more information on your little puppy love phase you sunk further and further into the hard plastic cafe seat. Hoping and praying to whatever higher power would listen that the ground would open up and swallow you whole . . . or your gremlin of a husband, you weren't picky. It was sixty minutes, a whole hour, of listening to your friend spill your dark embarrassing teenage secrets to your partner. Sixty minutes until you were left alone with the light haired goblin as a smug little teasing grin curled his lips upwards.

The urge to stuff the ice left melting in the bottom of your cup into his infuriatingly adorable face was immense, and it only grew as he spoke.

"So you had a crush on me when we were younger? How embarrassing!"

If looks could kill Sugawara would be dead several times over. Your own cute face twisted into a grimace as you huffed and grumbled out your reply.

"We're married."

This was something the gremlin of a man you married wouldn't let you live down for the foreseeable future.

⪧ Kita Shinsuke

To say he was shocked, when Atsumu let that little fact about you loose, would have been an understatement. Sure you two had spoken on several occasions since you were tutoring the twins back in the day, but he would have never guessed you had harbored feelings for him. Once the genuine surprise passed a warm feeling worked its way into his very bones, the knowledge that his beloved life partner held romantic feelings for him for so long made him truly feel like the luckiest man in the world. It was second only to the day you had proposed to him and began making the ever stale jokes about him being stuck with you forever. Due to his lack of any outward response to the admission Atsumu had made the bottle blonde began to spill more of your secrets, which lead to a tussle akin to two toddlers arguing on your living room floor. As you two settled your little fight with Atsumu in a headlock between your thighs Kita finally broke the tense air.

"I am glad you have felt the same as me all these years. It's a shame we didn't confess sooner, we could have been together longer by now."

A small chuckle rumbled in his chest as you gawked at him while fruitlessly trying to suffocate Atsumu. Embarrassment warming your body as you yelled out a reply.

"You can't just say things like that!"

⪧ Oikawa Tooru

This absolute brat found out about your embarrassing little puppy crush on him when he was rifling through a storage bin in the closet trying to find his old volleyball tapes. He would swear to every deity above that he hadn't meant to snoop through your journal, but the fact he had thrown it on the floor and loudly proclaimed to the empty closet 'Oh no! There's my name guess now I have to read it!'. You found him about an hour after this incident laying on his stomach kicking his feet in the air as he giggled like a school child. When the closet door clicked open his head turned with a terrified expression marring his face, it quickly turned into a cheeky teasing grin once he realized you were gazing at him in utter confusion. Rolling to lay sideways in the small closet he laid there as if he was in a cheesy romance movie.

"So babe, you had a crush on me in highschool? Why didn't you confess? We could've been a power couple!"

The only response he received was you removing your house shoe and throwing it at his smug face. Slamming the closet door shut once you had enacted a small form of childish revenge you rubbed at your face trying to dispel your embarrassment as he dramatically demanded an explanation from within the closet.

[lunaevangeline]

Hydrangea

Happy birthday Oikawa Tooru my beloved ♡ Here's a tiny birthday present from me: a childhood friends to lovers trope with him.

If someone asks you what your favorite thing in the summer transition is, it would be hydrangeas; leaving you in awe before summer heat strikes.

The memory is still so vivid in your mind. You and your best friend were catching each other, stomping on the puddle, splashing the water unto the blue-purplish color flower crowns. Both of you were laughing carelessly during your last summer as high school students. As if he won’t go to the other side of the world next year, as if he will stay here forever.

Oikawa realized you were no longer a little girl he used to know as he successfully caught you. Circled his arms around your waist, a winning grin plastered on his face. He pulled you closer, hugging your figure from behind. His lips almost stumbled upon your ear leaf. Your heart was pounding a bit faster when you felt his warm breath against your skin.

He was enticed at the moment, gazing at your frame softly and whispering a phrase that can dangerously change the state of your friendship. Fortunately (or unfortunately) it was muffled by the heavy rain that suddenly fell to the ground. He loosened his embrace and took your palm instead to run with you, heading to your house nearby.

The poor summer uniform with a simple pale blue shirt and a maroon bow was totally drenched, only to enter the washing machine as soon as you came home. Of course, the moment the washing machine started you could hear the noise not only from the motor but also from your mother's mouth. A one-hour lecture, yours truly from your beloved mother, while your best friend was sitting peacefully in the corner of the room. He looked really comfortable, already all warm because your mom lent him a set of your brother's clothes, holding a mug of hot chocolate and sipping it religiously. You can feel he occasionally glanced at you, to which you automatically replied with a glare.

You were cursing in your heart, protesting why Tooru didn’t get the same treatment. An argument from your mother would be because you’re the one who’s her only precious daughter. But you know your mom, or even your entire family members, love him a little too much. He’s really good at captivating one's heart, you guessed. He smiled sheepishly at your mother, confessing that it was his idea to drag you in the middle of the rain and just that your mom finally stopped her lecture.

You dragged him to your room, doing the same ritual as you both usually do; playing video games, snacking, then talking and lying on your bed while staring aimlessly at the ceiling. You were oddly quieter than usual and he wondered if you were still mad. So he tried to make amends by saying 'sorry' and promising to treat you.

You rolled over, propped your head and turned your gaze to him, "You only feel sorry for today?"

He let out a soft chuckle and grinned, “Okay, I made so many mistakes to you and I really am sorry.”

You moved your body nonchalantly, sitting on his abdomen and pointing at his chest. “Yes, you must feel sorry, for so many things,” you gestured your hands exaggeratedly.

You started counting on your fingers, “For taking too much of my ice cream portion.”

“For breaking my favorite console.”

“For not coming to my birthday because of the tournament.”

“-and for leaving me really soon.”

The tone is moving so quickly from being dictatorial to melancholic. He reached for your cheek and cupped it with one calloused hand, caressing softly.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

You stared at his doleful eyes, you can't argue because you already knew the answer.

He pulled your head into the crook of his neck and positioned you to cuddle, you gave in easily. Engulfing his clean scent, your lips almost met the skin on his neck and your embarrassed soul preferred to hide more in his chest. He held you tight, you felt so comfortable and that was the last thing you remember before you fell asleep that day.

They said the heart knows what it wants.

Today you wake up and found that the hydrangea flowers blooming on the sidewalks smell just like him, serene and content. A beautiful cold metal circling both of your ring fingers, you smiled in realization.

“Are you already awake, beautiful?” You find the man in front of you propping his head, a duvet covering half of his naked torso. He watches you with adoration.

Your smile grows even wider, “Good morning, mi amor.” You reach for his locks and pull him in for a kiss.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asks curiously.

You giggle, giving a peck on the tip of his nose, it flushes a bit.

"It’s a secret.”

He is your hydrangea and you are the rain drops who give him the first kiss on every morning drizzles.

masterlist

taglist: @hyeque @passionateuchiha @crystal-lilac @ohtobiors @pklm10 @aizumie @miya-dynasty @satisfactooru @wolffmaiden @wayyen @justheretoaskandread @simp4ren @filledasaf @momochimo @simpforerenn @sweetkoshi @suckerforsugawara @tjjjrsj @i4tsumu @snowcoveredkiss

[eurydicees]

23 + iwaoi!

this was super fun to write, thank you for the request!

summary: it's raining at one in the morning once again, and iwaizumi asks to come over. prompt: spotify wrapped prompts #23, brother (gerard way) pairings: hajime iwaizumi/tooru oikawa words: 2774 warnings: self-esteem issues

let the rain wash it all away

It’s raining again: the third day of pouring rain, falling in sheets onto the soaked earth, pooling in the dips of the roads, splashing up in sprays of silt and water under the tires of cars that pass by. The previous days of rain hadn’t been this hard and fast, just heavy; meanwhile, this rain is falling in bullets. 

Oikawa is sitting at his desk, math textbooks and worksheets spread out in front of him, keeping his eyes on the window. It’s impossible to see through it because of the water pouring down the glass, but Oikawa lets himself get caught up in the steady downpour, in the hypnotizing kind of spill of water, in the drumbeat of the rain. It keeps time to the whirlpool of his thoughts, calming him as he works himself out of a spiral of thoughts he doesn’t particularly care to have at the moment. 

They lost to Shiratorizawa again in their second year of high school. They had lost so many times already, Oikawa had half wondered if it would stop hurting at some point. But maybe that’s foolish, because it has yet to happen. If anything, it hurts more every time. 

He tears his eyes away from the window and back down to his textbook. It’s not worth pondering the could have been and the should it have been and the will it ever be. He has other things to do. 

It’s only been moments of staring at the derivatives he’s supposed to be working on when his phone vibrates on the desk next to his papers. For a moment, he thinks he should probably ignore it. He’s busy, technically. But despite his attempt at self-restraint, it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to give in and look at the notification. 

Iwa: can i come over

Oikawa reads the message. Then reads it again. Then again. 

It’s past one in the morning. As much as Oikawa loves talking to him and being with him, Iwaizumi is usually asleep by this time, especially on a school night. He shouldn’t be texting. If anything, this is a sign that something is off. 

What people don’t understand about the two of them is that their friendship goes both ways. It is a two-way road. For all that Iwaizumi knows about Oikawa, Oikawa knows just as much about Iwaizumi. It might look, from the outside, like Iwaizumi is the one always looking out for Oikawa, but the truth is that Oikawa does just the same for Iwaizumi. 

The truth is that, for all the ways that Iwaizumi is in tune with Oikawa’s bullshittery, Oikawa is perfectly keeping time with Iwaizumi’s bullshittery. Iwaizumi likes to argue that they have no such thing as a bond of ultimate trust, but they both know that the argument is made up of empty words. 

So Oikawa, with all the cataloged memories and trust and knowledge he has of Iwaizumi, knows that something is wrong. He should be sleeping. 

Oikawa: you never need to ask. see you in a few 

It’s something about the rain, Oikawa guesses. There’s no thunder or lightning, so there’s nothing to quite be afraid of per se, but there’s still a kind of depression that always follows that rain. Iwaizumi has always gotten like this when it storms: tired, foggy. Oikawa knows that well enough. Suddenly, a rush of guilt spills over him as he realizes how caught up he’s been in his own insecurities; he hadn’t spared a thought for how Iwaizumi might be feeling after three days of gray. 

Iwaizumi has always needed the sun more than he does. Oikawa is perfectly happy to sit in the dark and stare at his computer until four in the morning; Iwaizumi has a strict sleep schedule that he sticks to. Oikawa finds a kind of tranquil trance in the rain; Iwaizumi finds a heaviness that settles on his chest and presses him down like stones, burying his general will to get anything done. 

Something about the sound of the rain, Oikawa thinks. Something about the gray of the sky. 

He doesn’t quite understand it—why the rain does this—but he doesn’t have to. He can understand that heaviness. He can understand having the weight of the sky on your shoulders; that gray, gray, falling sky. 

Iwaizumi: outside. let me in ? 

Oikawa jumps at the vibration of his phone, heading downstairs as soon as he sees it. There isn’t a porch covering at his door, and Iwaizumi must be getting soaked. 

When he opens the door, he finds Iwaizumi: soaked to the bone, dressed in only a white t-shirt that’s tight to his chest, tight enough that Oikawa can see the lines of his collarbones; hands stuffed in his jean pockets as he shivers and rocks back and forth on his heels; his eyes on the ground in front of him rather than the door. His hair is plastered to his forehead, the usual untamed spikes flat under the weight of sheets of rain. 

“Come in,” Oikawa says quietly. “My parents are asleep, so we have to be quiet.” 

Iwaizumi nods, not saying anything as he follows Oikawa into the house. He seems out of place there in a way that he never has before—they’ve been friends their entire lives; Iwaizumi is usually as comfortable in the Oikawa residence as he is in his own—and he stands awkwardly in the doorway, dripping wet and trembling from the cold. 

“I’ll get you a towel.” Oikawa isn’t sure why it comes out like a question. It’s just that something is so intrinsically off about Iwaizumi right now that he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Be right back. Stay there.” 

“Not going anywhere,” Iwaizumi mutters. He takes his hands out of his pockets and wraps his arms around himself as if to hold in any warmth he can. 

By the time that Oikawa comes back with the towel, Iwaizumi looks marginally more comfortable, but not by much. Oikawa tries to hand the towel to Iwaizumi, but Iwaizumi just stares at it for a moment as if he’s not sure what to do with it. 

“For your hair,” Oikawa says, “and the cold.” Iwaizumi still doesn’t move, and Oikawa tries to hold in a sigh. “Let me.” 

Iwaizumi nods stiffly. He stays perfectly still as Oikawa gently rubs the towel over Iwaizumi’s cheeks to dry them; then works it through his hair until it’s damp instead of dripping. There’s something hopelessly tender in the movement, and something in Oikawa’s heart clenches. Some fist around his feelings tightens—which is to say that Oikawa is well aware that he’s in love with Iwaizumi and he’s also aware that moments like this, little moments of domesticity, ache with how comfortable, how easy, how natural they are. 

Oikawa drops his hand, his fist tight in the towel. “Come upstairs, yeah?” 

Iwaizumi nods. It’s rare for him to be like this, for him to look this fragile, but when it happens, Oikawa feels as if he’s at a loss. Whenever he himself is hurting, Iwaizumi always seems to know the right thing to do and say. When it comes to Iwaizumi, Oikawa might know him inside and out and upside down, but he’s never known how to comfort someone over non-volleyball related asks, whoever it is. He’s never known the right thing to say to someone who’s shut down like this. 

So Oikawa just takes his hand and leads him upstairs. Hands him a change of clothes, ones that will probably not quite fit him entirely but that will at least be dry and a little warmer. Turns his back as Iwaizumi changes into them, because he’s respectful and while they change in the locker room together every day, this feels different. 

After Iwaizumi has changed into dry clothes and tossed the wet ones into the bathtub to be dealt with later, he seems to be marginally more there. More steady. More aware of his movements. 

“Do you want to talk or just go to sleep?” Oikawa asks. 

Iwaizumi shrugs, pulling the sleeves of the shirt over his hands. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.” 

“We can just lay down?” 

“Okay,” Iwaizumi says. He takes a deep breath, and Oikawa, already in bed, opens the blankets up for him to join. 

There’s no hesitation before Iwaizumi joins him under the covers, settling onto the mattress. Oikawa’s twin size mattress isn’t nearly big enough for the both of them, and Oikawa finds himself pressed against the wall with Iwaizumi’s ankles tangled with his own and their faces inches away from each other. 

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, as if he can’t stand the eye contact, and Oikawa takes the chance to study his face. From here, Oikawa can see every eyelash, every bitten out divet in his lip. The bags under his eyes are heavy bruises, like he hasn’t slept in months. It’s worrying. 

“Do you remember when we were kids?” Iwaizumi asks, voice low and eyes still closed. “We used to play this game, where you were some kind of hero and I was a monster trying to hunt you down.” 

“I remember,” Oikawa murmurs. 

Iwaizumi swallows, then exhales. Oikawa can feel the heat of his breath on his lips. “I sometimes—fuck, this sounds so stupid.” 

“That’s okay. Tell me anyway.” 

Iwaizumi opens his eyes, something haunted about them. Then he rolls over onto his back, his hands on his stomach and staring up at the ceiling. “Sometimes I feel like that.” 

“Like…” 

“Like a monster,” Iwaizumi whispers. 

“You’re not a monster,” Oikawa says, gut instinct and immediate. It’s sharper than he means it to be, but he can’t understand why Iwaizumi would think that. How Iwaizumi could talk about himself like that. How Iwaizumi could stand to say those words as if they could ever be true, as if Iwaizumi could ever be anything other than good. 

Iwaizumi is quiet for a moment. Oikawa watches him, the slight twitch of his lips as if he wants to smile but can’t bring himself to complete the motion. Then, in a rush or a flood or a spill of anxiety that he can’t hold back anymore, he says, “I’ve done something bad, something that—I can’t help it, but I—I’m in love with you, I think. And it’s fucking terrifying, Oikawa, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t—” Oikawa takes a breath. Reels in his frustration, finds the wonder, the surprise, the hope. Finds promise in the fragmented shaking of his voice. “Don’t apologize, Iwa, don’t say that loving me is a mistake, don’t do that.” 

Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut, and Oikawa can see him tightening his fists in the blankets. “It is. Oikawa, I’m telling you that—” 

“It’s not a mistake,” Oikawa tells him, biting back a shame in the words. He sits up, the blankets sliding off of his shoulders. “Am I that undesirable? Why the fuck would it be a mistake?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Iwaizumi’s voice shakes. Oikawa, as he listens, realizes that it’s not disappointment or shame over it being him Iwaizumi has fallen for. It’s fear. 

Oikawa is well-versed in fear. He knows the fear that he cannot and will never be able to love anyone else right. He knows the fear that he will never be good enough for anyone, much less ever be good enough for himself and his own standards. He knows the fear that he cannot be loved back by the people he wants most. 

This, at least, he can understand. This, at least, is an ache of Iwaizumi’s that he can figure out how to soothe. This is a pain he is familiar with, a hurt that he knows how to hold in his hands with the right balance of gentle and firm. This is a simple fear he knows because it comes with the kind of love for your best friend that he knows all too well. 

Oikawa moves a hand to Iwaizumi’s hair, tangling his fingers in the strands and untangling out the knots. He feels as if he’s in a kind of fever dream, like the rain has washed away the rest of the world and it’s just the two of them left behind. It’s just the two of them in this new world that they can build up from scratch. He wouldn’t mind that so much, he thinks. Not if it was Iwaizumi. 

“You don’t know already?” Oikawa asks. His voice is low, teasing. 

Iwaizumi opens his eyes wide. Expression unreadable. Hesitant, maybe. Unsure if Oikawa is going to turn this on him and hate him forever. Unsure if Oikawa is going to say something that he wants to hear or not. “Don’t know what?” 

Oikawa finds it in him to smile, letting go of his worry for Iwaizumi for just a moment to let himself sink into his feelings. “That I love you even more.” 

“You don’t underst—” 

“I do,” Oikawa cuts in. He moves his hand, running his fingers down Iwaizumi’s jaw, pressing his thumb to his lips and then pulling downwards, watching as Iwaizumi turns weak under his touch. He puts a hand to Iwaizumi’s chest, fingers splayed out, feeling his heartbeat under his skin: beating hard and rapid and full of tender, tentative hope. “I get it, Iwa. And I…” 

Iwaizumi puts one hand over Oikawa’s hand. His touch is warm, overheating. Oikawa’s cheeks are pink like the dawning sky and Iwaizumi looks at him as if he’s the most wonderful polaroid capture of the sunrise that he’s ever seen. “I’m fucking—fucking scared, Oikawa.” 

“What is there to be afraid of?” 

Iwaizumi swallows; doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s never been good at talking about his feelings. “I had a dream, earlier, where—where I said what I just said and then you left me. You disappeared. Disintegrated before my eyes like sand castles made from dry shore and then you were gone, because I said something stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Oikawa sits up, keeping one hand on Iwaizumi’s chest and the other hand on the pillow, supporting his weight. “And I’m not disintegrating or disappearing, am I?”

“Not yet,” Iwaizumi mutters, just to be contrary. 

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to leave you, ever. I love you too much to just disintegrate.” 

Iwaizumi seems to sink into himself, closing his eyes again. His hand goes to Oikawa’s wrist, tightens around him. “I hate the rain. It just makes me think of how gross and dirty and depressing the world is. How could I ever have something so good if—” 

He cuts himself off, but Oikawa can fill in the blanks. If the world is cruel. If the world is black and white. If he hasn’t earned any good things. If he doesn’t deserve the good things. If he’s a monster. 

“I like to think of it differently,” Oikawa says carefully. “I like to think of it as washing the earth clean. Drawing up a clean slate, starting it all over again.” 

Iwaizumi opens his eyes. He hesitates, looking at Oikawa, searching his face for some hint of a joke or laughter or lies. But Oikawa could never do that to him. He feels so many things and they are all for Iwaizumi and every one of them culminates in a love he’s not going to hide anymore. Of course Iwaizumi would confess like this, and of course he would refuse to believe it when Oikawa reciprocated; Iwaizumi has always been the braver, kinder one of the two of them but also the more self-grounded, stubborn one. But still—of course Iwaizumi feels the same way. They’ve been on the same wavelength since they were six. 

“Do you think we could draw up a clean slate?” Iwaizumi asks, a whisper. He’s still afraid. Still worried that Oikawa will say no. “Even though you’re you and I’m just—just this, can we be something new?” 

“Just this?” Oikawa asks incredulously. “Hajime Iwaizumi, you are my favorite person I have ever met. You make the sun rise and the earth spin and you make me breathe. You are everything. Don’t ever say something like that again.” 

Iwaizumi snorts, but he’s blushing, too, and he looks like maybe he’s beginning to trust Oikawa’s words. “You’re so dramatic. You can just say you like me, too.” 

“I did!” Oikawa protests. Then he laughs lightly, smiling down at Iwaizumi. He shifts his wrist so that Iwaizumi’s hand slides down to his palm and they can actually tangle their fingers together. “But yeah, I think we can be something new, Iwa. I think we can be something really good.”

[daikushiji]

he kisses you during an argument

pairings: suna x reader, oikawa x reader, osamu x reader

genre: fluff, slightly angst a/n: (part 2  , part 3 , part 4 here!!)

Suna Rintarō

”can we watch the movie i told you about?”

laying on his chest, you try to look up at him but his phone is in the way

he has been watching stupid videos for a couple of hours now and you were getting bored

when you see him smile a little behind his screen, you take it as a ‘yes’ to your question

”okay then i’ll go get some snacks, can you search it on netflix?”

he doesn’t move a muscle, his gaze is fixed on the phone

standing at the end of his bed, you gently tug his foot 

”babe!”

he looks a bit disorientated, but nods at you anyway

when you get back, he’s in the same position you left him 

”i can’t believe you right now”

he doesn’t even raise his eyes from the screen, just hums in response

”you know what? this is pointless, i’m arguing with myself”

hearing you stomp your feet around, he sees that you’re putting your jacket on

”where are you going?”

”home, if i have to be alone i might as well do that in my room”

he lazily walks up to you

”didn’t you want to watch something together?”

”oh wow so your ears do work”

you swerve out of his arms, reaching for the doorknob

but he gets in the way to stop you

”please move”

”i’m sorry if i wasn’t paying attention to you, okay?”

”it’s always the same story with you”

when you try to get past him, he gently grabs your face

“you’re not really mad at me, come on”

”of course i am!”

you try to escape his hold but he just pulls you closer giving you a passionate kiss

looking down at you with a grin, he notices your miserable expression

“am i boring or something that you’re always on your phone?”

his gaze softens immediately, giving you some pecks on the lips

“oh no baby, don’t even think that. i’ve turned off my phone so you have my undivided attention”

”really?”

he leans down to kiss that pout of yours away

”i promise. why don’t we start watching that movie now?”

Oikawa Tōru

he stood you up, again

feeling some raindrops on your face, you decide to take the hint and go home

when you hear your boyfriend’s voice calling your name from behind

you just keep walking because you can’t really stand to see his face right now

he manages to reach you, blocking your way towards the bus stop

he’s out of breath and sweaty

”i’m so so sorry”

”like always”

you move past him, hitting him with your shoulder

”at least let me explain!”

”let me guess, something to do with your volleyball club?”

”i’m the captain, you know i have responsibilities. we talked about it even before dating”

”i understand that, but it’s not the first time that you don’t show up to a date without saying a word”

”my phone died, otherwise i would have called to tell you i’d be a bit late”

”a bit? i’ve waited here for more than an hour!”

on the verge of tears, you feel tired and frustrated

you’re not mad at him because he’s late or anything, you just miss your boyfriend 

of course he’s a busy person, but you wish that he could find a little more time for you

suddenly he cups your face, uncertain if you would have pushed him away

with a lovesick expression, he presses his lips to yours

forgetting all your insecurities, you can only focus on how soft he feels against your mouth

”you feel so far lately and i know it’s my fault, but i’m just asking you to wait for me”

he mumbles in your ear, tightening the hug

”i can’t lose you, i don’t want to”

Miya Osamu

taking your hand in his, the two of you start strolling down the street

”so? what have you decided?”

you sigh deeply, struggling

”i don’t know!”

”how can you not know what you want to eat?”

“because i’m down for everything, why don’t you decide?”

”it’s your turn to pick and you never agree with me anyway”

”that’s not true!”

”okay fine, what about chinese?”

 you turn your nose up 

”i had it yesterday actually”

‘told you so’

he has to bite his tongue, while a fake laugh escapes his lips

”then pizza?”

”i was planning to have it with my family tomorrow”

stopping in the middle of the crowded street, he suddenly appears in front of you

tired and hungry, he leans down with a stern look

”pick something, now”

his tone is harsh and annoyed, which makes you frown

”we don’t have to eat together if you don't want to, you know?”

realizing how severe his gaze is on you, he immediately calms down

he holds your face, bringing you closer and softly kiss you

”sorry, i’m just hungry”

staring at his lips, you gently pinch his cheek

”no i’m sorry for being so indecisive”

he pulls you in, claiming your mouth again

”how about we go back home and cook something instead?”

[justauthoring]

Precious To Us [2]

In other words, you’re Seijoh’s manager.

This chapter, Oikawa’s fangirls.

A/N: Here it is! The second part! I had one person request an idea (thanks @minigranger) and I definitely plan on writing it soon but I love the trope of manager vs. fangirls that I can’t help myself. As usual, please send in ideas :)

Listen, Oikawa’s fangirls are mean.

They just are.

It doesn’t really matter to them that you’re a first year, if they’re supposed to be your seniors, they would probably still be bitches even if you were their seniors and in second/third year.

They seem to think Oikawa’s theirs, even though, of course, he isn’t and if asked, he definitely would deny.

And they see you as a threat.

A big, big threat.

Who gets to see Oikawa everyday? You. Who gets to see him practice every day? You. Who gets a front row to seat to every one of his games? You. And who does he flirt with? You.

It doesn’t matter if you reciprocate the flirting or not -- which of course, you don’t -- they’re jealous and they blame it all on you.

Honestly, the first month of managing is fine. 

Now that you know who Oikawa is and you’re around him more, you do notice the fangirls, but they don’t really bother you and you’re too focused trying to learn the ropes to really care about their constant presence. 

You know you’ve heard some of the other members, namely the third years, complain about them.

About how annoying and distracting they were when it came to practice, or just the mere fact that Oikawa seemed to revel in the attention and love.

You’ve heard them, but you don’t really say anything otherwise because they’ve never done anything to you so you don’t really care either or.

Besides, even if you do think it’s tad bit pathetic, you can’t deny they’re devoted and you guess, in some ways... good for them?

But when you don’t stop being manager, and the rest of the team, namely Oikawa, don’t get sick of you like they all expect them to, and a month passes and you seem to just be thriving, getting a long with everyone, and finally getting the hang of everything?

That’s when they attack.

You’re already late.

And even if you know none of the boys or even the coaches will be upset with you, you do like to be punctual and you absolutely hate being late. So, you’re rushing, practically sprinting through the halls as you try to gather your bearings and organize everything you need to.

You’re already thinking of what drills Oikawa will have the team do, and what you can do to help. Maybe you could bring up some of the notes you’ve made? You’re not a hundred percent on the terms, but Iwaizumi has been helping you, and you’re sure you’ve picked up on a few of the techniques and things you think the boys could improve on.

You didn’t want them to think you’re imposing, but this was the job of the manager wasn’t it? They always reminded you you were more then just a water girl, and that they greatly appreciated anything advice you had for them from an outsider point of view, so maybe--

Landing with a loud thud, a groan leaves your lips as you feel your chin smack against the concrete floor beneath you. It takes you a second to gather your bearings, baffled at how you were suddenly on the ground, and trying to ignore the pain at having bitten your own tongue. But the second you hear laughter, you realized exactly what had happened and your head turns around to stare at the three girls stood above you in bafflement.

They’re laughing at you, quite loudly and obvious mocking you, but your eyes narrow in bafflement when you realize you’re positive you’ve seen them before. You just can’t place your thumb on it. They’re not in your class, one of them doesn’t even seem to be in your year, and you don’t think you’d remember some random face you’d passed in the hall, so--

That’s right. You’ve seen them hanging around Oikawa before, and the one older girl had even snuck into practice one day.

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet, you move to gather your stuff, only for it to be kicked out of your grasp.

“What the--!”

“Listen.”

You blink when the older one, clearly the leader or whatever, is suddenly directly before you, barely a breaths away, glaring down at you.

“You need to quit being manager for Oikawa-san’s volleyball team.”

And your eyes widen, baffled, lips parting as you shake your head; “I don’t--”

“I think you perfectly understand,” the girl behind her sneers, eyes cold.

“We don’t like how close you were with Oikawa-san.”

“And we’re sure Oikawa-san’s sick of seeing your ugly face every day.”

You’re stunned silent. Honestly, you’re not really sure what to say.

“We’ll give you till the end of the week,” the head girl smiles, but it’s a sickly sweet, filling you with dread. “Okay?”

She doesn’t wait for you to respond before her and the other two are walking off, clearly proud of themselves if they way they walk and hold themselves is anything to go by.

It’s takes you five minutes to gather yourself before you start making your way to the gym again for practice.

Part of you wants to just skip and go home but you know the boys would be concerned, more then they probably already are given how late you are, and really, it would just cause more issues in the end anyways.

Besides, you’re never one to skip anyways.

You don’t cry. You’re not really sure why because you definitely want to, but the tears never come and then you’re suddenly in the gym and everyone's rushing towards you in concern, questions leaving their lips rapidly as to why you were so late.

You brush them off, and it almost works, before Iwaizumi takes notice of the dried blood on the corner of your lip that you’d regrettably missed when cleaning yourself up earlier and the scrape underneath your chin.

“What happened to your chin, Y/N? You’re bleeding.”

He steps towards you, but you brush him off.

“I just tripped is all. Bit my tongue.”

You smile and hope it’s enough to convince them, but even if Iwaizumi looks like he wants to argue, Oikawa’s already pulling him back onto the court.

“You’re so clumsy, Y/N-chan! You really do need to be more careful!”

Some of the boys laugh and you do too, forcing yourself to pretend like everything’s fine even though you can physically feel yourself shaking.

But even as he’s being dragged away, Iwaizumi is still eyeing you and you don’t let him grow anymore suspicious then you can tell he is. You send him a soft smile, and then turn, making your way over to the coach to see where you can help for the day.

And it continues on like that for week. 

By the next day, every seems to have forgotten you being late and only Makki makes a teasing comment about the cat themed bandaid on your chin to which you begrudgingly shove him away with a shrill “it’s the only ones we have!” and you seem more like yourself then you had the day before that by the second day, even Iwaizumi has relaxed.

By the end of the week, even he seems to have forgotten about it.

But you haven’t. 

And it being the end of the week has you scared.

Kindaichi seems to notice your weird behaviour in class, especially now that the two of you tend to stick together now that you’re acquainted. But you brush him off every time he asks, saying you just felt ill.

He seems to believe it fine.

Luckily for you, nothing happens.

You’re on edge all day expecting something to happen, but nothing ever does.

Aiko, the third year and clear ring leader of that little group, never approaches you. In fact, you don’t see her once all day, which that in itself isn’t odd since you’re in different years, but you had expected to see her lackies -- either Makoto, a first year like you, or even Nami, a second year.

But you don’t.

By the final bell, you’re relieved.

It was just a mindless threat. It didn’t mean anything clearly, and they had just been poking fun, and honestly you were fine with that -- so long as you didn’t have to deal with them again.

You’d just have to be more wary of the fangirls. Maybe they weren’t as kind as you thought you were, and clearly they thought you posed some kind of threat (even though you definitely didn’t) so you’d just keep it in mind and--

“I’m pretty sure we told you by the end of the week.”

It’s a harsh thud, you don’t fall to the ground like you did last time, but you do thud against the lockers which dig painfully into your back. And regrettably you let a small cry in response, which pales in comparison to the cry of pain that leaves your lips when one of them grab a chunk of your hair and tug, hard.

Pushing at the hands that grab at you, you spin, not surprise to see the same three as before, sneering down at you.

Aiko spits down at you. “Clearly you didn’t listen.”

“I’m not gonna just quit,” you whisper, feigning the confidence to speak up for yourself. Your eyes narrow up at her, even though your heart is racing madly against you chest, and shake your head adamantly. “I love managing the volleyball team, and it’s not even because of Oikawa-senpai! I love being will all the boys, and I won’t let you--!”

“You really are just a slut.”

You’re stunned silent, lips left parted.

“Listen, I gave you a week, you didn’t listen.” Aiko scoffs, shaking her head as she brushes her hair back, glaring down at you. “I’ll show you what happens when I don’t get my way.”

She strikes you hard, across the cheek, and naively, you think that’s it. You can handle some punches and kicks, because you really don’t want to give up the one thing that’s made you happy for the first time in a long time. Even as the hits continue, and your body starts to ache, you think,

I can handle this.

But still, you end up skipping practice that day. You blame it on the fact the fact that you just didn’t want to have to explain why you looked so battered and messed up, knowing this time no amount of lying was going to get you out of this one. Because, really, it wouldn’t just be Iwaizumi suspicious this time -- all the boys will be, and then they’ll probably talk to the coach and...

and, it’s just to much a fuss for you. So, you skip, sending a text to Oikawa explaining that you weren’t feeling well and you’d be back Monday and to please apologize on the coaches behalf for you.

But you don’t go back the next day.

When you open your locker the next Monday, your homework that you’d finished during lunch to previous day to get a head start is ruined. Completely and wholeheartedly ruined.

And when you glance around, the first thing you see is Makoto from across the hallway, smirking at you.

But you don’t have any proof.

So, you suck back the tears that threaten to fall, and sulk to your first class where you know the teacher will be less then pleased.

And of course she isn’t, but she simply sighs and tells you that if you don’t have it in by tomorrow, she’ll have to give you a failing grade. 

Embarrassed and upset, you walk to your seat, ignoring Kindaichi’s watchful gaze as you sink into your seat.

But it only gets worse from there.

The second class starts, a note is tossed onto your desk.

You eye, confused, glancing around for who threw it, only for everyone to be faced forward, before glancing briefly at Kindaichi’s whose watching your curiously.

Slowly, you open it.

Is it true you actually slept with all of the volleyball team?

Laughter echoes, but when you look up, there’s three girls staring at you, all mockingly.

Kindaichi leans forward, trying to grab the note but you pull it from his grasp, avoiding his gaze.

He cannot see that.

And when the class ends, you narrowly avoid Kindaichi who calls for you, rushing out of the class, only for someone to bump into you the second you make it out, shoving harshly into your shoulder.

“Slut.” The voice sneers.

Your lips part, and you glance up, feeling your vision blur, but when you glance around, you suddenly notice the looks everyone’s giving you, and the way they laugh and sneer at you.

But what really makes you break is when you turn, feeling like everyone’s against you, and find Kindaichi staring at you with parted lips, obviously confused, and you just can’t hold it back then, turning without another word, and running off.

The day continues like that, and after lunch, which you spent alone hidden in a bathroom stall, you see Iwaizumi and Oikawa ahead of you, smiling when they notice you.

They look as if they want to talk, but you know then you absolutely cannot like that happen, for multiple reasons, so you turn around quickly, running off in the opposite direction despite the way they call after you.

You don’t go back to practice like you said you would.

And neither do you Tuesday.

When Wednesday rolls around, and every laughs at you when you walk pass them in the halls, or sneers at you, or looks at you like you’re the most disgusting thing, you go to the office when you realize you can’t handle this any longer.

No matter how much you love being on the team and managing the boys. 

Little do you know, in class, Kindaichi notices the odd coloured paper in your hands and curiously, maybe even worriedly (because there’s a sinking feeling in his gut) peers over your shoulder as subtle as he can, lips parting when he reads the header.

Permission to quite a club form.

“I think Y/N’s going to quite the team.”

It’s the first words he says when he enters the club room that day, and it makes everybody pause.

Silence echoes, and slowly, unsurely, Yahaba shakes his head; “what-what are you talking about, Kindaichi? I thought Y/N said she just wasn’t feeling well, which is why--”

“I saw the form this morning,” Kindaichi shakes his head, “I know what I read.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “Y/N would’ve talked to us first if something was upsetting her. She wouldn’t just--”

“Haven’t you guys heard the rumours going around?”

It’s Kunimi who speaks this time, his voice the similar drawl it always is, but if you look at him close enough, it’s easy to tell that he’s concerned. Upset even. And he looks disgusted as he speaks, eyeing Kindaichi first, almost knowingly, before turning to the other boys.

Iwaizumi’s brows furrow; “what are you talk--”

“I think someone’s been bullying her,” Kindaichi frowns. “It started at the beginning of the week. Y/N came in with her homework ruined, which I thought was weird, because she always is so careful with her work and makes sure it’s done early. And then someone tossed this note onto her desk but she wouldn’t let me read it, and she wouldn’t talk to me or even look at me all class. Then, when class was over, people were... well--”

“There’s a rumour going around that’s she’s slept with all of us.”

It’s Kunimi who finishes it, Kindaichi’s face beet red, which quite a few of the boys mimic seconds later when Kunimi finishes.

But Oikawa? Oikawa just looks pissed.

“What?”

Kindaichi blanches, looking absolutely terrified; “I thought you knew! I didn’t--”

Oikawa storms past him, Iwaizumi quick to follow, and then Mattsun and Makki are right behind them. The first and second years glance at each other, before slowly following them, and sure enough the third years are heading straight for the gym, to which none of them are surprised to find you there, a form in your shaky hands as you stare at Coach Mizoguchi.

You turn to them with wide eyes, clearly having hoped to finish before any of the boys started practice. But Mizoguchi looks relieved. “Thank God you boys are here,” he breathes, standing up to which you try to stop him, but he isn’t listening, “Y/N wants to quit, but I really think she should talk to you first,” he’s looking directly at Oikawa, “she won’t tell me why. And please Y/N,” he turns to you, “I think you should reconsider.”

“We’ll talk to her,” Oikawa cuts in, voice oddly low before you can say anything.

Mizoguchi smiles, nodding at you before making his way over the gym obviously in search of Irihata. Instantly the tension thickens when you’re left alone with all eyes directly and solely on you.

It takes a second to find the words. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to any of you about it, but I...” And your voice falters, even you can’t help the way your voice quivers. “I think it’s best if I just quit.”

“You’re not quitting.” It’s Iwaizumi who speaks this time, and his voice is so firm, so sure, even if you’re not sure how to argue against it.

“But I-I--”

“You don’t need to quite,” Oikawa shakes his head, stepping towards you and pulling the form from your grasp with ease. You watch with parted lips as he simply rips it right in front of you, tossing it aside without much care, before glancing back at the rest, namely the other third years, turning back to you. “Now, tell us, who told you you had to quit?”

And your eyes bulge. How did he--

“Kindaichi and Kunimi told us about everything,” Iwaizumi starts, moving towards you, as your eyes fall to the first years, watching the way they both, even Kunimi, stare after you in concern. “We know someone’s been bothering you, so, just tell us.”

“We’ll help you,” Watari adds with a smile, hesitantly speaking up.

And you pause, unsure. But then you stare at them all watching you carefully, and see how all of them care so much, more then you ever thought they did and you’re reminded of why you’d refused to quit in the first place. Reminded of how much you love managing the volleyball team and no matter how much you were scared and hurt, you didn’t want to lose it all.

Lose them.

“It’s... It’s a few, three actually, of Oikawa-senpai’s fangirls,” you mumble, voice low, head turned downwards. “They... They don’t like how much time I spend with him, so they... they told me to quit and when I refused, they...” You don’t need to finish.

There’s a pause, before a slap echoes. 

“Somehow I knew this was your fault, Shittykawa.”

“Ow!” Oikawa cries, “Iwa-chan, it’s not like I...” But he seems to pause, lips parting as he glances down at you, his heart breaking slightly at the tears in your eyes.

Stepping forward, he pulls you into a hug, and you let him; “I’m sorry, Y/N-chan, I didn’t know they were hurting you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is,” Mattsun comments, stepping forward as he smiles down at you, ruffling your hair. “It’s easier to blame him anyways.”

“I agree,” Makki laughs.

And even you find yourself laughing lightly.

“Really, Y/N-chan? Even you too?”

“Sorry.”

Then, everyone turns serious; “I’ll talk to them,” Oikawa frowns. “What they did isn’t okay. I won’t let them get away with it. They’ll never bother you again, Y/N.”

And you’re surprised by how serious he is.

But things do get better.

Aiko never bothers you again, nor does any other one of Oikawa’s fangirls.

Oikawa even makes her apologize, and even you have to admit the absolute mortification on her face makes everything a lot better.

The boys try to stop the rumour, but it’s easier said then done, though, the fame of it all does dwindle and you’re not snided in the hallways so much anymore.

It’s kind of hard to when you usually have one of the third years walking you to and from class anyways.

Besides, they’re your friends, and even if everyone else hates you, they don’t.

And that’s all that matters to you.

[iwadori]

Why you break up with the haikyu boys part 2 (Osamu, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Ushijima.)

Part 1 (Atsumu, Oikawa, Kageyama, Kenma, Akaashi, Sugawara)

Genre: angst

masterlist

Osamu: “For fuck sake Y/N, don’t deny it I know that you...”

You and Osamu were basically arranged to be together, you were best friends from when you were little and your parents thought you were a match made in heaven.

Did you love Osamu? Of course, you pretty much worshipped the ground he walked on.

But there was always a strange look he gave you whenever he mentioned his brother. You never really focused on it, but that was something you took note of.

When you came back home, after a long day of work. You see Osamu sitting in the kitchen alone, with some paper in front of him and a drink in his hand.

“‘Samu Babe!” You exclaim sauntering over to him “How are yo-“

“Don’t.” He said simply, taking a sipping some of his drink (to which you could only assume was some form of hard liquor.)

“Why ‘Samu, what’s wro-“

“You bought tickets to his game.”

“Who’s game?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Y/N, you bought tickets to my idiot of a brothers game in an attempt to slut around under my nose..”

“Samu, that’s not what it was I-“

“I don’t want to hear it Y/N!” He yelled slamming his drink down making you flinch.

“Gosh Samu whats wrong with you. I know that I had a teeny crush on Atsumu when we were kids but it was just a childhood crush. An innocent childhood crush.”

“For fuck sake Y/N, don’t deny it I know yo-“

“You know what? That I’ve spent majority of my life, trying to ease your own insecurities and jealousy of your own goddamn brother. How childish can you be Osamu ?”

Osamu eyes opened a bit in realisation, and his lips slightly parted. “But Y/N, you-“

“I what? Brought us tickets to your TWIN brothers final volleyball game, because I wanted him to see the support from his family and friends.”

“I’m sorry Y/N I really a-“

“Don’t.” you say picking up the tickets and turning around “I just thought maybe, just maybe for at least a day you could put your weird feelings towards your brother aside... but I guess you can’t.”

You left the apartment, and got your stuff another day (one where you knew Osamu was at work.)

No you did not end up dating Atsumu, you were most certainly friends and only friends. You did end up going to the game on your own, to cheer on Atsumu who most definitely appreciated it.

You thought you saw a certain Miya twins sitting in the stands at of the game, hiding his face with a baseball cap. Which made you smile a bit...

Well at least he ended up coming to the game.

Iwaizumi: “I just don’t want you Y/N, I never did”

In your second year of Seijoh Highschool, you were approached by a rough looking boy who had a ‘resting bitch face,’ and looked like they were coming to pick a fight with you.

But no, it was just “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

He was very popular throughout your school, as he was vice captain of the schools volleyball team and he was Oikawa Toorus best friend.

So when he approached you that Friday afternoon at your locker, you definitely didn’t know why.

“Y/N..” he said nervously scratching the back of his neck “umm this is for you..”

In his hands was a bar of chocolate and a scrunched up note that read

AN: DID I WRITE THAT NOTE MYSELF, yes yes I did anyways...

You were very surprised at this sudden confession as you and Iwaizumi weren’t in the same social circles and you were definitely not the type of girl that would be on his ‘radar.’

You had a quite unsettling feeling, which made you subconsciously squint your eyes at him. But they soon soften as you saw the nervousness that Iwaizumi was showcasing to you as you were contemplating on you answer.

You got out a pen, shaking the unsettling feeling you had out of your head. And ticked the box “Yes” giving it back to Iwaizumi.

He smiled widely and rushed towards you in an attempts in giving you a hug which went awkwardly wrong leaving you both laughing.

Dating Hajime, wasn’t bad nor good... it’s just what you wouldn’t expect it to be.

There wasn’t much of a change to what your usual school routine was which consisted of: going to lessons and spending break and lunch on your own reading a book.

And technically you were still doing that, but you were now just always with Hajime. Wether it was at lunch or at practice (which he always insisted you go to, also hinting that he would like for you to bring him bentos to practice.) which you did end up doing.

One day, whilst doing your daily “bento delivery,” to your boyfriend, you overhear him talking to his friends; Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

“God I can’t stand her, always running behind me like a lost puppy giving me bentos that I didn’t even fucking as for” he complained, making you gasp.

“Really?” Exclaimed Hanamaki “I know you said she confessed to you one time, but I didn’t know it was that bad?”

“Yeah she’s a stalking bitch, it’s getting annoying.”

“Gosh it’s seems someones getting a taste of the ‘Oikawa Experience’” Matsun said making them all laugh.

You entered the room, furious. “What the fuck Hajime?”

“Woah woah woah, it’s seems your stalkers about iwa, we’ll leave you too it” said Hanamaki, with Matsun following behind him as they leave.

“What do they mean I’m a stalker?”

“Well aren’t you?” He responded with a smirk

“Gosh y/n you’ve been following me about for a while now, dont you think it’s time to stop”

“Bu-But you confessed, with your note and w-“

“Are you sure about that Y/N, cause I don’t really recall ...?”

“Hajime don’t lie, we were dating.. we ARE DATING.”

“Okay Y/N let me fill you in on a little secret,” he said leaning down next to your ear “I don’t want you Y/N, I never did.”

“ but why m-“

“Why you? Because nobody knows Y/N L/N and nobody cares, I can tarnish your name and nobody will give a shit.. and that’s why your an easy target” he said still smiling “ I just wanted to rub it into Shittykawas face that I had my own little “fan club”

You were stunned, frozen in shock as Iwaizumi walks past you to leave the gym, making sure to grab the bento you made him.

“Thanks again for the help, I’m definitely going to miss these bentos!”

You should have listened to your gut feeling from before.

Daichi: “you’re just not marriage material”

Daichi was “the perfect guy,” he was nice to strangers and was helpful to the community and just an all round great guy.

So it was a massive question as to why he went for you, since you were definitely not the girl for Daichi.

“I don’t care what anyone says, your the perfect girl for me” was what he always said.

Even though those statements went out the window whenever his mother got involved.

Daichi’s mum was a strict traditional woman, who believed in family values that went back thousands of years ago.

And she most certainly didn’t like you.

She wanted you to be Daichi’s doting wife, who cooked and cleaned for him. Whilst he works and was the breadwinner of the house.

Although you found no problem with the women that did do this, but this was not for you.

When it comes to meet ups with you, Daichi and his mother. He never told her to stop when it came to the rude comments she made about you, or the times she suggested Daichi go for a more “prim and proper” girl named “Misaki Ayuzawa.”

After the meetings, when his mother was gone, he always tried to reassure that she was wrong and her words didn’t matter.

But you knew they did, that daichi was actually considering some of the things she said about you wether they were true or not.

The tension in your household was strong, since you barely talked to each other anymore. But you had hope for better things...

Until one day, you get a message from Daichi’s mother saying. “It seems Daichi made the right choice, as we all know ‘Mother Knows best.’” With a video attached of Daichi proposing to the one and only “Mikasa Ayuzawa” surrounded by all their high class business friends.

When Daichi got home he yelled, “Y/N, where are you I was at this business party at this fancy restaurant and I got some nice things for you to try!”

“Business party?” You say rolling your eyes “Or Engagement party.”

The shocked look on his face made you smile, as you both knew now that he was caught.

“Fuck you daichi! Why would you do this without even tell me !” You yelled, tearing up a bit.

“Y/N, it wasn’t meant to go down like that it was just I was talking to my mu-“

“Fuck your mum! And you!”

“I’m sorry Y/N you’re just not marriage material an-“

“I don’t care what you’ve got to say, you’ve done it and it’s over with”you said leaving.

“I’ll come back to get my stuff later,” you say “oh and congratulations on the engagement Sawamura-San”

After you said that, Daichi’s heart broke.

He did end up marrying her, and he regretted every day of it. Since she was great and all, but she just wasn’t you...

But he knows now you’re long gone, definitely not going to forgive him for marrying another girl whilst being with him.

Ushijima : stop being so emotional

You and Ushijima were very much opposite In every aspect, and at first it wasn’t really a problem.

Especially since you always excused it as “opposite attracts.”

But recently all you and Ushijima do is argue, left and right always arguing.

You complained about Ushijimas lack of emotion when it came to you, you don’t think he cared about you or about anything.

Whenever you brought up something that was wrong he would reply with “Y/N this is something you need to be acting all upset about.”

And that would definitely upset you even more, you just wanted him to notice you or shout “Y/N I care about you and I love you.”

But Of course he didn’t.

One night he came back late (again) after promising to be home early to have a meal together.

“What’s taken you so long Ushi?” You asked

“I was at practice. I told you this.” He said simply, remaining as stoic as ever.

“But you said- you promised that we can have dinner together.” You said

“ oh well I’m sorry. We can have dinner now if you like.”

“I’m not hungry anymore” you mumbled past him, going to your bedroom.

“Y/N, what’s your problem” he said following after you.

“It’s nothing...”you said tears filling your eyes.

“Okay I’m going to go eat now.” He said leaving you alone in the room going to the kitchen, making you sigh.

After you calm yourself and collect your faults, you go into the kitchen where Ushijima is at the table eating.

“Ushijima, we need to talk.” You said taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“We should break up.”

“Okay.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You say tearing up again.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking that for a while now.” He said bluntly “since Y/N, you’re just too emotional.”

“Oh I see.” You say now full on crying.

Ushijima looks up to see you all teared-eye, and he is kind of suprised because ‘why were you upset.’ He got up and tried to console you, but you flinched away and said “Don’t, just don’t Ushijima.”

“I’m sorry Y/N...”

“Why are you sorry? Do you even know what you’re apologising for?”

“No.”

“Well then, just seems to prove my point further...” you go to leave before saying “thanks for the wonderful time... I guess we just weren’t meant to be.”

AN: can someone appreciate what I did with Iwaizumis....no? Okay 😃 I feel this one way way more angsty then part one but oh well. What did you think.

General taglist[bold can’t be tagged]: @sakuxxi @iimoonii @hamdehlesmis @Shoyosupremacy @meadowsinjapan @iambashfulperson @kayleighbeccaa @dearkousei @bakugouswh0r3

Get on the taglist here

[missmorosis]

sick manager :)

-> feat. sugawara and kuroo

part 1 with bokuto, oikawa, and tsukishima here!

genre: fluff!

synopsis: y/n, the manager of her school’s volleyball team, finds herself sick after days of hard  work, yet she still goes to school to support her team~ 

warnings: the reader is sick, and she passes out in kuroo’s scenario :))

pairings: sugawara x reader, kuroo x reader (separate!!)

total word count: 1.5k

a/n: OKAY SO HAHHSLKDFJ RIGHT WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS CHAPTER I GOT SICK W/ A FEVER- I THINK I JINXED MYSELF OMG

i tried to make the scenario KINDA different, but with the same idea hehe

anYWAYS i’m so sorry if this makes like zero sense AHSLDKF- i wrote a lot while i was sick SO ill blame it on fever delusion if it flops 😌

OH AND THIS IS FOR @haikyuuheartsclub ty for reading the first one and asking for a part 2 hehe <33

You getting sick was inevitable.

You knew that you were bound to get sick with all of the work you had been doing and all of the late nights you spent preparing volleyball strategies, planning practice tournaments for your team, or studying until your eyesight blurred.

Being your school's volleyball team manager was not only hard, but it was ridiculously time consuming. Not to mention that you were bombarded with schoolwork, and you had exams coming up. Your stress levels had never been higher, and you were practically living off of caffeine with the amount of sleep you were always lacking.

So when you woke up with a sick feeling and the worst headache, you weren't completely surprised. Annoyed would have been a better word.

You knew that your team was getting ready for an important tournament, so you would have to stay extra long for practice. Groaning as you got ready, you weren't sure you could make it through the day.

You sluggishly pulled on a hoodie and brushed your teeth, taking note of how warm you felt as you washed your face. Grabbing a thermometer, you quickly measured your temperature.

100.4 Fahrenheit. Not too bad... just a low-grade fever. You tried to shrug it off and ignored how disgusting your body felt. You slung a backpack over your shoulder and walked out the door, heading to school.

You waited at the bus stop, shaking your head to try and make the sickness go away. When the bus arrived a while later, you plopped down onto the closest seat and you couldn’t stop your eyes from closing. You were just so... tired...

You drifted off to sleep, the soft sound of the bus driving across the road comforting you.

...

“Uh, Y/N?” Someone was shaking your side, and you immediately lifted your head from the bus window you were leaning on. It seemed like you just closed your eyes a second ago... where were you now?

"Mm?" you hummed sleepily, blinking slowly. You rubbed your eyes as the sunlight filtered through the window, and it made you feel warmer than you already felt.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, but we’re already at school." You looked outside, and he was right; you saw Karasuno in the near distance. 

Your brain processed the fact that Sugawara, a third year from Karasuno’s volleyball team, was sitting next to you. You saw his blurred figure lean next to you, and he brushed some hair out of your face. His fingers grazed against your forehead, but he quickly froze. 

"Y/N- Y/N! Why is your forehead so hot?" He studied your face with concerned eyes, noticing how tired you looked.

"Hm? No, it’s not. It wasn’t that high when I checked... probably the sunlight..." you mumbled, leaning on the back of your bus seat behind you. You put a hand on your forehead, and it confirmed that you were indeed burning up; it was considerably warmer than earlier in the morning. You groaned and got up.

"You don’t look too good, don't you think you should go home-" Sugawara started, but you interrupted him.

"No, you need your manager today, you guys have a game soon," you said, your tone tired but strict. Sugawara eyed you anxiously, but you waved him off. "I'll be fine," you reassured him. Grabbing your backpack, you got up from your seat, heading for the bus’ exit.

Woah.

You knew you were sick, but you didn't think you would be this dizzy. Everything seemed to sway to one side, and you put one arm on the seat of the bus, leaning on it for support. You rested your head on your arm, and you felt Sugawara’s arm wrapping around you for support.

“Alright, now you have no choice. You’re taking a break, whether you like it or not, clearly something’s not okay,” he told you, and you were too lightheaded to argue. You just nodded along and he helped you back into your seat. 

You clutched your head as you tried to make everything go away. Sugawara went to talk to the bus driver in the background, and miraculously, the driver made an exception for you.

“We’re ahead of schedule anyways,” the bus driver reasoned. He turned the bus around, heading back towards your house.

“Okay, now that that’s done, you can sleep if you want to. You could probably use the rest, I can only imagine how tired you are...” Sugawara said softly, and you gave a small nod. You scooted further down into the seats, making enough space for the boy to sit next to you. He gladly obliged, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you drifting off to sleep. Your head subconsciously drifted onto his shoulder, but he didn’t mind.

“Hey, Koushi?” you mumbled, your voice coated with sleepiness.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing... I just wanted to thank you.” Your eyes remained closed, and Sugawara couldn’t tell if the blush on your face was from your fever... or something else? 

“You need to take breaks, you know. You work really hard, it’s a wonder you haven’t dropped dead yet,” he said, half jokingly. “Thank you.” You smiled, and finally fell asleep.

Kuroo found you in the classrooms; your head was down, and your headache was terrible. You were almost asleep; you were trying your best to stay awake, and you weren't sure how long you could keep it up.

He was walking down the halls, casually glancing into your classroom to see if you were finished, and he softly smiled at the sight of you.

"Tired, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, smirking as he tapped your shoulder.

"Hm?" You lifted your head up, surprised at the unexpected touch. "Oh- Kuroo, shut up," you replied, rolling your eyes as you stretched. He laughed and grabbed your backpack for you, slinging it over his own shoulder.

“Ready for practice?” he asked, looking down at you. You nodded, and the two of you walked to the gym.

Your head was killing you with every step you took, but you had no choice but to ignore it. You looked to the distance, trying to ease your headache. Kuroo’s voice was slowly melting into background noise. 

Suddenly you froze and stopped walking, earning a curious glance from Kuroo. You were forgetting something...

“Wait- where’s my... backpack?” You spotted it on the boy next to you, and you shook your head. “Sorry, forgot that you had it,” you said, with a sheepish laugh.

“Something wrong?” he frowned. “You’re acting distracted... more distracted than usual, anyways.” You shook your head, deciding to keep your sickness to yourself.

“I’m good, just tired,” you assured him. He nodded slowly, and walked into the gym, you following close behind.

Only you, Kuroo, and the coaches were in the gym; you were early. You flashed a quick smile as you waved hello.

"Great, you guys are early. I have a couple strategies to discuss," the coach said, gesturing to a whiteboard in front of him. The two of you nodded, and he began to explain.

"Alright... if we're going to win this next match..." he started, but you couldn't make yourself pay attention. The only thing on your mind was how your head wouldn't stop hurting, everything seemed to echo, and just overall how sick you felt.

"What do you think, Y/N?" Kuroo asked, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. You snapped out of your sleepy state at the sound of your name.

“Wha-” You blinked, looking around at all of the eyes on you. You tried to remember what the others were talking about... oh. Strategies. Right. "I just think we... we need to..." You looked at thr whiteboard, but you couldn't focus. You swayed to one side, blinking hard. The world really seemed like it was tilting to one side... "Woah, sorry-" you tried to say.

"Y/N?" You saw Kuroo reach out towards you as you slowly lowered down into a fetal position, resting your head on your knees. "Hey, Y/N? You okay?" You swallowed.

"Yea- yeah. Just... give me a second," you breathed. You felt Kuroo kneel down next to you, and you were right; someone's arm wrapped around you for support, and you knew it was Kuroo's. You knew you were safe as you lost consciousness, falling further into his arms.

...

You awoke, and the first thought was how bright the gym lights were... they weren't this bright before...

"Oh- Y/N! You're awake," Kuroo said, rushing over to you. He put the back of his hand on your forehead. "You're still burning..." he said with a frown.

"Sorry," you muttered. "I don't know, I've been sick all day and I guess I couldn’t handle it..."

"Why didn't you tell me you weren’t feeling well?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. You smiled softly.

"It wasn't important... besides I have manager duties to take care of," you said with a sigh.

"Not if I can help it." He picked you up in one swift motion bridal-style, smirking as you struggled to get down. "I'm not letting you down; I'm taking you home and getting you some proper medicine for this fever of yours. Health is more important than volleyball." You huffed and flopped into his arms in defeat.

"Fine." You leaned closer into Kuroo's chest, and he smiled, satisfied with your surrender.

"That's my girl." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile.

A/N: THESE WERE NOT THE BEST- I ADMIT BDHDDJNDJEW

hopefully these weren't too bad though-

haikyuu taglist: (send an ask to get added hehe) @floralkawa <3

MWAHH THANK YOU FOR READING!!

[izukult]

haiykuu boys react to a long distance partner surprising them

characters: hinata, kageyama, oikawa, sugawara, nishinoya, tsukishima

established relationship | warnings: swearing, my fan behavior, why are my head canons so long in this gd it’s like a tiny story without structure

hinata shōyō

-SUNSHINE BOY (i went crazy for this one i’m so sorry)

-you were sugawara’s old middle school penpal which turned online friend

-so obviously you’d heard about his volleyball team and the new first year star players

-and one thing led to another where he introduced you to hinata

-actually you were facetiming suga and you saw hinata and told your old friend you thought the tangerine boy was cute and then koushi “accidentally” put you in a gc together

-you and hinata have been dating for about four months

-you’ve heard everything to a t, including small little remarks from tsukishima to every toss, kill, and miss your boyfriend and kageyama managed

-side note but it’s so cute this boy is so whipped for you if you don’t respond for a certain amount of time he’ll find some dumb excuse to talk to suga just so he can shift the convo to making sure you’re safe

-anyway

-so you’re going to meet suga finally

-like FINALLY you’re so excited

-but you’re also boutta see your boyfriend!!!!!!

-buuuuuuuuuut your boyfriend didn’t know

-so it’s safe to say you were a little nervous about it

-you made suga swear up and down that he wouldn’t tell any of his teammates that you specifically were coming, but he did ask to make sure it was okay to have a semi open practice

-so you’re standing outside the volleyball gym with sugawara, backpack with hinatas favorite snacks over your shoulder. practice had already started so suga was late, but he still stood outside with you and let you prepare yourself

-you felt like you were about to throw up even though that’s shoyo’s thing

-suga walks in before you and you follow shortly after, holding in a sharp breath.

-there he was. standing on the other side of the gym, talking to who you knew as kageyama

-he hadn’t seen you yet, but other member of karasuno had

-”yoo who’s this hottie” bald, flirtatious, you had to assume its tanaka

-hinata was in the middle of jumping for a spike when he saw you, and he froze and fell to the ground, stumbling to keep his balance

-the gym got quiet at the tangerines reaction, but he was just staring at you.

-and then he was doing that “woosh” run he always told you about and before you knew it his arms were around your waist and his head was buried in your shoulder.

-everyone (literally EVERYONE) was looking at you two but you just laughed and placed a hand in his hair (which, holy fuck, is soft)

-you mouthed an apology to suga and he shrugged you off, and focused your attention back on the boy in front of you

he pulled back just enough to look at you, leaving his hands to rest on your back. his eyes were filled with tears (cute) and he offered you a smile.

“you’re here” his voice was quiet, for once, but it didn’t have any lag this time. and it was so fucking beautiful.

“i’m here.” you nodded, eyes scanning the features of his face. he chuckled lightly, a tear falling to his cheek as he shook his head.

“you’re so pretty.” his voice was watery and he moved his head back in your shoulder before you could utter a compliment back.

-he stayed attached to you for like minutes okay and this man completely ignored the teasing of his classmates.

-eventually you tried to pull him off you so he could get on with practice (and so you could watch him practice) but he refused to get off

-”bubs. babe. honey. you gotta get up”

-”hey hey hey, what about showing me a cool spike?”

-”i am literally asking you to do your favorite thing in the world sho,”

-”new favorite thing is holding you.”

-YOUR HEART

-eventually you did get him off of you and he practiced the HARDEST he had

-after practice he introduced you to everyone as his girlfriend even though you’d literally been introduced to them like an hour before

-his eyes stay on you and he constantly tells you how pretty you are face to face and how you smell good and how soft your hands are

-it would sound stalkerish if you werent whipped

-its ok hes whipped too

kageyama tobio

-no idea how youd meet this mf online

-maybe some volleyball forum or like arguing over which setter was betting in youtube comments

-or if you know nothing about volleyball,,,,

-i have no fucking clue BUT

-he doesnt mind long distance honestly

-he doesnt have to get worried about completely embarrassing himself and he never has to make like physical moves

-but he does wish he could hold your hand sometimes.

-but he ignores it🙄

-so you are like obsessed w this bitch u r in love w him🤢🤢

-and ur a good 90% sure he luv u too

-so you plan a trip to him

-you do it all out. you talk to his mom, you find the cheapest hotel that’s perfect distance between his house and his school bc ur just that cool

-and you even make up an excuse to kageyama for why you won’t be on your phone during the flight

-you know he’s gonna be at practice bc you know his schedule cos gf things

-you stocked up on banana milk (aka you brought like four)

-you hit him up yknow yknow

- “hey bubs i’m back<3 how’s practice going?” you’re literally standing outside the gym but you want to make sure you’re not coming in at a bad time

-after like three minutes he texted u “good:). just got done with a practice set.”

-so now you’re going and you’re excited and you’re Nervous

-you open the door and you’re met with a rly tall guy with a headband on

-“hi, can i help you?”

-“uh, is kageyama here?” and he turns his head, and you follow his eyes, and there he is

-and he’s already staring at you

-a ball is lightly held in his hands

-if anyone who didn’t know him saw him they would genuinely think he’s angry

-but it was kinda the same look he’d give you when you talked about things you cared about on facetime

-so maybe that’s love? 😳😳😳

you give him a little wave

-“sup kags”

-he’s just staring

-blankly staring

-which you should’ve expected

-“sorry, are you mad? i should’ve told you i was coming, that’s my bad i just thought i could surprise you and it would be really nice and then you wouldn’t be stressed out sorry-“

-literally why are you saying all this all of his teammates just like “wtf”

-he shook his head quickly and opened his mouth to say no but just continued to stare

-“i- uh- you want to watch me set?”

-you LAUGH. and i mean LAUGH girly and he just turns all kinds of red and you know his team is gonna be on him for that

-“yea! if that’s like, allowed?” daichi doesn’t care so you are literally balling

-you watch him play and like at first he’s REALLY awful like rly bad but then he kind of tunes everything out (i.e. you) and gets back in his groove

-afterwards he comes over to you and asks you what you think and he’s looking at you like this is normal but you can tell he’s shaking and he kisses your forehead REALLY REALLY FAST and mumbles a quiet “i’m glad you’re here”

-he opens up w affection more along the trip

-he appreciates the banana milk. sm.

-from then on out he constantly brags ab having a gf to the team

oikawa tooru

-he suspects smth is up to be honest

-he’s like “ohhh shawty gon do sum😫”

-(he doesn’t fucking call you shawty)

-but to be fair he figured more like you were gonna send him smth rather than send yourself

-surprise again he’s AT PRACTICE who would’ve guessed

-but this time you come at the end of practice because seijoh has like set schedules and oikawa tells you everything so

-you’re just standing by the door waiting for him to come out, ignoring the literal group of girls forming at the end of the hall knowing dAmn well they are your bf’s fangirls

-oh well

-you hear his voice before you actually see him

-he’s giving someone tips on their serves and you hear someone make a snide remark at him and you only assume its iwa

-he’s in the middle of a sentence and he just stops.

-there’s a good couple of seconds where he completely loses composure

-which is not tooru like

-you took a step closer and smiled

-”is this the oikawa tooru fanclub?”

-”nah it’s actually the oilykawa hate club” it’s the same voice from earlier and it’s definitely iwa

-you laugh a little and keep looking at your boyfriend

-”that’s even better”

-he just walks up to you and gives you a real, genuine smile

-pushes a piece of hair behind your ear

-and KISSES u

-EPIC MOMENT GAMERS

-”what are you doing here, pretty? come to see me play? if so, i hate to break it to you, but you’re late”

-you just roll your eyes and kiss him again

-once you two are alone he literally cries

-LMAO

sugawara koushi

-literally the only one who can keep his cool out of all these mfs (aside from tsukishima)

-however, when you show up to his practice wearing the hoodie he sent you like two months earlier, he lost his shit

-you set it up with daichi and everything beforehand.

-(and daichi literally made sure suga would look like a setting genius the day you showed up)

-he had just made a really good set when you walked in and you clapped

-”nice one, koushi”

-he looks at you like 😦 & is just like “you- what- you’re- how- why?”

-lol and then he goes on “not why like i’m not happy you’re here just how”

-and all the third years think it’s so funny to be honest, because typically suga can keep his cool

-he eventually gains his cool and shines you one his signature amazing smiles (which, is somehow better face to face)

-omg he goes over to you and once he gets there he turns to his teammates and like

-”this is my s/o!!!”

-mf is BEAMING

-he’s so happy

-you find out right after he gives literally the best hugs ever i live by that and i will die by that

-he doesn’t kiss you til you two are alone

-and its so fucking sweet and personal he puts his forehead on yours and tells you you’re the most beautiful person hes ever seen

-he is literally so in love w you

-ew

-i love him.

nishinoya yü

-ok he’s so loud

-literally the second he gets a gf everyone knows

-he shows the team pictures of you literally anytime one of them will look

-he luvs u

-he is your BIGGEST fan no doubt

-you make a nice meal? he wants to post about it

-you have a nice outfit? he will put it on his story

-you breathe? expect an “omg baby im so proud of u”

-so when you show up, he reacts the way you expect him to

-so like obviously this man isnt checking his phone during practice

-but he puts his phone on dnd and has you as his only favorite contact

-so you can text him if its an emergency during practice

-you know that, he knows it, the team knows it

-he gets the little ping!

-and he’s out the game

-no one is recovering the ball #peaceout

-he jogs over to check because you never text his number during practice bc you respect his passion for volleyball

-the text just says “come outside:))”

-he’s like wtf?? but bitch gonna do what u say😐

-he sees you and he just yells “holy shit” so loud dude

-daichi goes to call him on his language but steps outside and sees the short libero hugging the person they’d all seen in the photos, he just goes quiet

-nishinoya will not shut up as he hugs you

-he’s literally just hyping you up and asking you literally every single detail about how you’re there, where you’re staying, when you’re leaving, how your flight was, everything

-you just kiss his forehead :)

-literally only good vibes

-you guys have such a good trip bruh

-after you leave he literally just cries while looking at pics of you two together

-^ he took so many pics and vids of you pls

tsukishima kei

-unlike the others, you wouldn’t meet him at practice

-you don’t really know his team, nor does he tell you about them outside of mostly complaining

-you do know tadashi, but like you’ve only talked to him in a gc all three of you are in and never like alone

-you did not tell him you were coming because you’re 100% convinced he would’ve accidentally told tsuki even though he can keep his own shit secret lol

-you just show up at his door when you know he’s home

-and he’s texting you as you’re there and he had actually had a moderately rough day so you told him you were gonna order him food from his favorite restaurant

-which, technically wasn’t a lie you just had to make an extra stop

-you knock on his door (once you’ve prepared yourself because you honestly have no idea how he’s going to react)

-and he opens it ready to give a half hearted thank you to some delivery guy

-but instead his s/o

-he just stares at you

-he looks like a fish

-after like fifteen seconds you decide to try to break the ice bc you are nervous

-”delivery here for uh one…” you pretend to look at the paper, you’re doin a whole skit here “one dumb bitch. are you dumb bitch?”

-he just rolls his eyes and shoves your head

-he walks back but he leaves the door open

-”take your shoes off”

-he’s not even looking at you smh but you smile so fucking wide bc that’s the kind of reaction you were honestly hoping for

-(what you don’t know is he will literally break his whole hard exterior act if he looks at you right now and he is not ready for that)

-you put the food on the table and move to stand next to him

-and after a bit he finally looks at you

-and you look at him

-and you smile

-and he does too,, kind of

-(which is so fucking cute,)

-and you just keep starin at him and bite your lip to keep from grinning

-and after a couple minutes you clear your throat

-”can i hug you?”

-bro he’s so fucking whipped he doesnt even answer he just wraps his arms around you and puts his head on top of yours

-and he mumbles a thank you and its so fucking SWEET

-he does open up more the longer you’re there and u have a very good trip mwah in luv

[neutinya]

Meet Iwa's familiar!! Her name is Kyuri, Japanese for cucumber :) - Hi more of my monster tooru AU!!!! This time a continuation of the story as well as just fluff :D - I'm not super happy with this but I'm so tired :((( fhjdjd hopefully next installments will turn out a little better!!!

- 

Open to read the continuation to their story :D

As Iwa was looking for berries, he notices odd rustling sounds nearby. Originally he thought they were some forest critters but all those years of training told him that those were definitely not monsters.

Before he could ready his bow, an arrow is sent flying directly into his right shoulder. Panicked, he quickly takes cover and pulls the arrow out with his left hand, he takes a quick look at the arrow and realises that they were poison arrows, one that belonged to hunters from his kingdom? He didn't think they managed to track him all the way here and he knew for a fact if these were hunters sent by his family, it'd be hard to take them down alone

He tries running back to the cave but the poison was starting to kick in. He definitely didn't feel like he was dying but his shoulder was in a lot of pain and he was beginning to feel light headed, he guessed it was most likely a tranquilizing kinda poison and not one that would kill. Before he could even step foot out of the forest, he passes out.

Back at the cave, Tooru had already woken up awhile ago and was waiting for Iwa to come back, now Iwa was usually back before he wakes up but it seemed he was taking longer than usual, he gets a little worried and Iwa's lizard seemed particularly distressed. Tooru decides that something was wrong and left the cave to look for Iwa

After searching for a while, he finds the spot where Iwa had been shot, he had noticed blood with an arrow next to it. He picks up the arrow and notices a crest. Any monster would recognise that crest from anywhere, immediately, he knew what happened and hurried back to the cave to retrieve Iwa's belongings, llamas and lizard

Tooru figured it was time to return to his kingdom and get some help. Hiro and Issei I would say are two of Tooru's closest friends? They were probably High ranking generals or idk, Tooru's right hand men??? They had been the one's running the kingdom when Tooru was gone on his little "holiday" and now that Tooru was back, they were kinda bummed out actually

Tooru briefly tries to explain the situation, telling about what had happened and about Iwa. Hiro and Issei are pretty receptive to it, going along with their king's plea for help. At least that’s until Hio asks "So what kingdom took him?"

And Tooru is just like "(insert monster hunter kingdom name I haven't thought about here)"And makki loses his shit?? Like "are you fucking kidding me???" Tooru's like "oh yeah, hajime's a human" And Issei and Hiro are just like "you've been travelling with a human for 4months???"And Tooru is just "yeah, so?" While surprised and little weirded out at first, they come to accept it eventually

So yeah, back to Iwa he was pretty much put on trial for treason??? His dad gave a long speech about how much he had dishonoured the family blah blah and Iwa who has tolerated that bullshit all those years is just like "dishonoured?? You act so high and mighty but you don't know a damn fucking thing about monsters do you?"

And of course Iwa's dad is pissed, saying how they are beasts who have been terrorising humans for centuries and Iwa just snaps saying "terrorised? You kill them for simply existing- All those villages full of people different from you, their blood is on our kingdom’s hands-" Iwa's dad just says "their very existence is a sin" and Iwa wanted to badly to strike a blade through his father's heart but he couldn't because he was chained up

As their conversation dies down a messenger comes barging into the room eyes filled with terror and panic. According to him, a monster had made it inside their kingdom and was asking to meet Iwa's dad. Tooru, alongside Hiro and Issei, had already downed about 50 of their best hunters?? So that was enough to get the king’s attention.

Iwa immediately knew it was Tooru and his mind began to panic, because the last thing he would want was for them to kill Tooru trying to save him. Iwa's dad is like "they killed 50 of our men?" But the messenger nervously responds "no sir, he didn't kill them- but they're not capable of fighting" Knowing that Tooru hadn’t actually killed anybody made him feel so much more at ease.

As the messenger continued to explain the situation, the door swung open and in came Tooru himself, by his side was Issei, who had moved in to free Iwa on the command of Tooru. Iwa thanks him and Tooru and Iwa's dad just stared at each other

Iwa mumbles a soft "Tooru-" and Tooru's eyes briefly darts toward Iwa. Tooru just smiles so gently like he was trying to reassure Iwa everything was going to be okay before diverting his attention back to the king.

"I'll be taking my queen back from your hands." And immediately you can see Iwa just go ?????? Giving a "what the fuck" kinda face

Iwa's dad just turns to stare at Iwa but Iwa knew that it was best to leave the questions for later so instead he walks over to Tooru who had offered one his hands out for Iwa to hold?

"If you don't want any trouble it's best if you refrain from trying to kidnap Hajime from us again." And now Iwa's dad, fully aware of the danger that Tooru possessed, doesn't retaliate. By that time more hunters had arrived to offer backup?? Their weapons were all aimed at Tooru and Issei but Iwa's dad asks them to stand down, Tooru grins and calmly, they walk out of the door.

As their back turns immediately Iwa's dad order them to fire, from nowhere, Hiro kinda swoops in and knocks most of the men out before they could hit their shot? (Hiro has wings here, Issei has a really, really long whip-like tail)

Amidst the shootout, Issei had bound the monsterhunter king with his tail. Tooru turns back and walks slowly towards the king, so calmly whispering into his ear "You will let me and my men leave this kingdom free from harms way do you understand?"

Fear was evident? In the kings eyes? He hastily agrees and Issei immediately drops him to the ground, he gags a bit before looking up to see his son and the three monsters disappear slowly down the long corridor and from his sight

After they managed to leave safely, Iwa just kinda lost it, "Queen??? What the fuck is going on?" And Hiro and Issei kinda assumed this was a lovers quarrel (not knowing Iwa and Tooru weren't actually a thing) and decide, "Hey we're gonna head back first, have fun arguing" and they book it

Tooru comes clean and tells Iwa that he was actually a king??? Iwa goes apeshit and is just "The fuck do you mean you're a king" and Tooru is kinda like "surprise!" Tooru also take the opportunity to shoot back "To be fair, you did neglect to tell me you were royal blood yourself, monster hunter blood of all things-"

And of course what could Iwa say?? He just stared and paced in frustration a little bit before saying "That still doesn't explain the queen shit you pulled back there"And Tooru just laughs because Iwa was visibly red and almost kinda like an angry kitten??

“What's so bad about being my queen?"Hajime doesn't know how to respond so he spends a minute saying a word before angrily staring at Tooru and repeating.

"Because for someone to be your queen- They need to be someone you love-" And Tooru just stares at Iwa quietly for a moment like he was thinking? He eventually says "And what if I tell you that I am in love with you?"How was Iwa supposed to respond??? Cry??? Fuck, Iwa felt like so many things happened too quickly but at the same time he felt so undeniably happy and safe at that moment when Tooru said that.

"This better not be another one of you stupid jokes Oikawa" Tooru just slowly reaches out and caresses Iwa's cheek? "I promise it isn't" Tooru at that moment even takes off his necklace that he had been wearing around and puts it on Iwa instead?? They look at other and Tooru very confidently says "Become mine for real Iwa-chan"And it takes a moment before Iwa just melts into Tooru's touch??? And so, so quietly, he says "Okay." as allows himself to be embraced by the monster

[shingia]

Heya. I know this is very angsty of a request, but I saw the fic of characters reacting to their s/o who [tw] relapsed into self harm and was wondering if you would do some for asahi, ushijima, and oikawa?

[𝐓𝐖] 𝐒/𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

hi ! ofc you can honey <3 i hope these will bring you as much comfort as you need, and plz don’t hesitate to dm me if you need to talk to someone, or to reach out for help in any way. here’s a hug for you bcs you deserve it, love you 💗 

also im sorry but i really couldn’t imagine asahi ever arguing with his s/o so i didn’t include this in his fic (he really is too precious)

warnings : mentions of self harm, one mention of blood, some self-depreciating thoughts. please do not read if any of these might trigger something, stay safe everyone <3

➾ 𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐡𝐢

asahi trusted you blindly. and everyday, he had to make an effort to persuade himself that you trusted him in return. you did of course, how could you not trust the one that had helped you through so much ?

but this wasn’t about trust ; it was about shame. because the last thing you wanted was to find in his eyes the anguish and fear as they were a few months ago. you couldn’t do that to him, yet you kept doing that to yourself.

however, you had the misfortune - which was more of a blessing really - to have a very observant boyfriend who cared about you. and he cared enough to gather the courage to finally ask you about what he had hoped you’d come to him for. sat next to you on the couch, he took the plunge. 

« do you… do you remember when you promised to always come to me if you needed help ? ». there, he had said it. and from the way that his arm tightened encouragingly around your waist, you understood what he meant by this innocent question. he kept speaking : « you know i trust you, right ? i really do. but something tells me that maybe you forgot about this promise recently ».

each of his words was carefully chosen, more than usual. because even if he didn’t show you, he was terrified of messing up. the fact that you were reluctant to answer was enough for him to understand that he had guessed right. but what confirmed it was the single tear that slowly streamed down your cheek.

« oh angel, no, come here. come, you’re ok now… » he spoke in a tone that was more comforting that anything you had ever heard. his arms were wide open for you to snuggle in, and when they wrapped around you, his words replayed once again in your head. i’m ok now, i’m ok now… you repeated internally. and you were, asahi was a man of his words after all.

« i’m sorry for being weak » you finally said after a few seconds of silence, voice half-muffled by his embrace. his warm fingers traced the outline of your face, encouraging you to look up to him. not because he needed to see your face, he already knew it by heart, but because you needed to see his. « weak ? y-you’re the furthest thing from weak. how can i even put it..? you are one of the strongest person i know, and i wouldn’t be half the man i am today if it weren’t for you. 

you wanted to thank him, but exhaustion took hold of your body before any word could leave your tight throat. and when you woke up - two hours later according to the clock - asahi was still there, holding you tight against his heart like a promise to never let go of you anymore.

➾ 𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚

ushijima hated to waste time and energy on ‘petty fights’, as he liked to call them. but it was really frustrating to always feel like he avoided confrontation ; arguments were necessary in a relationship, and he didn’t seem to understand that.

whenever you got into fights, you were always the only one to get angry, which never failed to make you feel guilty afterwards. and eventually, this feeling of guilt started to become permanent, taking so much place in your brain that you had to sacrifice a part of the self-confidence you had built up the past months. but you didn’t know how much longer you could conceal it.

tonight was the first time you were sleeping together since your most recent fight, the one that had damaged you so badly. and you couldn’t lie, feeling his warmth next to you after about three days spent ignoring him almost felt like a reward. but a reward for what ? you were certainly not proud of what you had done, and you were terrified at the thought that he’d ever notice it. but unfortunately, your efforts to pretend like everything was ok were put to an end in the middle of the night, at about 3 am. something silly, really : ushijima had just turned around in his sleep, and his shoulder accidentally weighed on your wrist, making you hiss in pain. he immediately opened his eyes at the sound, his hand immediately finding its way to your side - he was always a light sleeper with you.

« are you ok ? » he asked, propping himself on an elbow, barely distinguishing your silhouette in the dark. « yeah, just my wrist. come on, let’s go back to sl- ». oh… that wasn’t supposed to be said out loud. it was hard to gauge his reaction since you could not properly see his face, but since he sat on the bed as soon as you interrupted yourself, you understood that it had not fallen on deaf ears. « are you comfortable with me turning on the lights ? » he asked, obvious concern in his voice. saying yes was tempting, because you knew this was a serious matter, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see you like this, vulnerable and ashamed.

ushijima accepted it of course, he knew he was not the best with words, so the least he could do was to make sure you were comfortable with whatever he decided to do. « is it ok if i hold you ? » he asked once again, his tone a bit more hesitant. the muscles in your jaw tensed at his words, it was more than ok, or at least you wanted to give it a try, but the worry you had caused him was bringing you back to the familiar feeling of guilt.

however, when he carefully made you rest on top of him like he had always done, something inside you felt healed to know that whatever you were going through did not impact every aspect of your life. his embrace felt the same, so did his heaving chest that rocked your body to sleep every night. surprisingly enough, you did not shed a tear. because the comfort finally felt stronger than the pain, you refused to let anything trouble this moment.

« are you ready to talk about it ? » he questioned, his voice rumbling like a soothing storm in his chest « or do you prefer to wait until tomorrow ? ».

ushijima might have avoided many discussions with you, but this one ? he simply refused to. and if he was more than ready to help you overcome your pain, he also knew not to pressure you into talking. words would come, eventually. but actions were always first.

➾ 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

despite his usually confident behavior, oikawa knew he had a tendency to second-guess each and every one of his actions, and to beat himself up quite often.

he could not remember the last time he had felt so utterly disgusted by himself, he was usually more careful with his words. but all it took was one angry outburst from him for you to withdraw into yourself - and he had to fix this as soon as possible.

luckily for him, your relationship was strong enough not to be too affected by this argument - which had not been your first, but definitely the biggest one. however, you had been affected. a lot actually. but you knew better than to talk to him about this, knowing that he would obviously take the blame for your relapse.

but oikawa was attentive, and, clever as he was, it did not take long for him to guess what you were going through when he saw the red-stained tissues in the bathroom trash. it had been two weeks since your fight, and just the thought that he had left you alone with your struggles for so long made him want to throw up.

without wasting any more second, he burst out of the bathroom and made his way to the living room where you were absent-mindedly watching a movie. he would have preferred to have a discussion with you with a clear head, but the sight of the tissues kept spiraling in his head and he was incapable of doing anything else but to pull you in for a hug whose suddenness made you gasp.

oikawa’s hugs were usually soft, with little kisses here and there and a few compliments chuckled in your ear. but today had nothing to do with those. his arms were engulfing your figure in a desperate need to feel you against him, like he was trying to make up for all the time he had left you alone. « i’m so sorry, so sorry baby… can you forgive me ? » he breathed out, his voice cracking with emotion. obviously you knew what he was referring to, how could you not know ? and just like him, the thousand words on your mind only transcribed in your arms wrapping around him, closing the last few millimeters that separated you as you frantically nodded your head yes. 

you did not think he had anything to be forgiven for, and sadly, you also knew that he would continue to blame himself no matter what your answer had been. that was actually your biggest motivation to begin your recovery journey. oikawa needed to know that, from now on, you’d turn to him instead of your old habits. and you wanted nothing more than to make him happy, so, since his happiness seemed to depend on yours, it could be considered a package deal towards a better future, together.

before you leave, here are links to two mental health support apps that i hope will help you deal what you are going through right now. i know it’s not much but i’ll be the happiest girl if this helped someone in the tiniest way. take care of yourselves ❤️

Calm Harm - Play Store | App Store

Wysa - Play Store | App Store

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

[yaku-soba]

in love with your love

༶•┈┈ general m.list 

༶•┈┈ kyoutani kentarou x gn!reader | fluff

tags/warnings: set in the second and third year of high school, getting together <3

word count: 1.36k

a/n: a repost frm my old blog; i’m sorry i disappeared again but i had family issues to sort through :”) hopefully i’m back for good now 

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

Most people tend to look at Kentarou and stop there. 

It’s hard to explain, but he doesn’t think they see him, not really. They see his scowl, the angry pull of his brows, and immediately give him a wide berth. 

In high school, Kentarou spikes a ball into the court. It flattens, ricochets to thud against the walls of the gym. 

No one sees it. 

The volleyball guys in Seijoh see his dyed hair, the way he barks his words. They see bared teeth and say - look, there’s a mad dog. 

Kentarou walks out. 

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

He meets you in the spring of his second year. Seijoh has lost to Karasuno, and Kentarou’s just lost whatever he’d thought he could have had. 

(He’d tasted it. In those precious last minutes on the court, when he’d managed to bump the ball with the inside of his wrist in a miraculous save, he’d felt for a moment like he was part of a team. When he’d hit spike after spike, serve after serve, when Oikawa had set to him-

-He’d felt like they’d finally seen him.)

You bump into him in the hallway a few days after Spring High. When he looks down, a biting remark on his tongue, he’s greeted to the sight of you sprawled on the ground, clutching your head. Your papers flutter in the breeze, all butterfly wings, before settling messily on the floor. 

You let out a groan when you realize that the papers that had once been in your hands are now scattered over the ground, moving to pick them up. 

And Kentarou just - he just watches. He’s thrown off-centre - there’s been neither half-muttered snark nor apology. He’s not exactly proud of it, but he’s used to students muttering out a rushed apology without meeting his eyes, before running off with their things hastily gathered up. 

“Aren’t you going to help?” Your voice pulls him back to Seijoh, to a hallway identical to countless others on the compound. (But something has changed, something has shifted the world on its axis, just barely.)

You’re looking at him somewhat accusingly. “You weren’t looking where you were going, either,” you say when he doesn’t reply. 

“What?” He’s aware he’s probably scowling. There’s a small pang of regret at that realization. 

But you take no notice, already busying yourself with arranging the papers in some unknown order. “Come on, I’ve still got to hand in this lab report, you know.”

Dumbfounded, Kentarou squats, obediently picking up the pages of your lab report before he notices what he’s doing. 

(He sneaks a glance at your name and class. You’re a second-year too - from the class that’s right next to the stairs. He’s never seen you before.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

After that spring afternoon, he sees you around more. Perhaps you had always been there, on the periphery. 

You’re hardly ever alone, always with some classmate or other. 

He almost goes up to you - he doesn’t know exactly it is that he wants to say, only that he wants you to look at him.

(You do. You sneak glances at him out of the corner of your eye, as he brushes through the lunch crowd in the canteen to set his tray down angrily opposite Yahaba. You linger outside Seijoh’s gym, busying yourself with tying your laces, right outside of the open door to the gym.)

Third-year goes better. He ends up in your class, and as your seat-mate, no less.

Kentarou tries not to scowl as much.

He’s elated when he realizes you don’t care - you just laugh, pinching his cheeks teasingly in the way he despises but can’t quite come to resent.

(He likes the way you ruffle his dyed hair without hesitation. He likes the way you roll your eyes at his biting remarks.

Kentarou likes the way you look at him. He feels seen.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

Kentarou falls in love without really being aware of it.

By the time he does, it’s too late. He’s hooked on the pitch of your laugh and the dizzying curve of your lips in a teasing smirk. 

This is okay, he thinks. Kentarou’s never had something like this - all he’s ever had is volleyball and a hunger he can never really satiate. He thinks it’s enough that he gets to feel something like this, even if Yahaba won’t stop teasing him.

(He can’t quite keep himself from smiling a little more around you. You speak and he’ll lean in before he catches himself. He’s never been good with words and he doesn’t remember half the things you say - only that you wave your hands around animatedly as you talk, only the way your voice rises and ebbs with the story like a tide.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

“He clearly likes you back,” your friend whispers excitedly once Kyoutani has passed the both of you, waving at you casually before he turns to scowl at something Yahaba had said. “I don’t know why you’re holding yourself back.”

(You wish he’d follow up his muttered thank you with a kiss on the cheek whenever you hand him a bottle as you pop into the gym, just to see how he’s doing now that he’s back to training with the team. You want him to rest his hands on your hips and kiss you senseless against the door to your classroom, you want to tug on his tie and pretend you care about the fact that you’re supposed to be on cleanup duty.)

Sighing, you pick at your bento disinterestedly, “We’re graduating soon,” you reply tiredly, “and he’s probably going to go into professional volleyball.” Despite everything, you crack a small smile at that. 

“He loves volleyball. It’d be cruel to keep him from that.” You close the lid of your half-eaten bento. Your friend frowns but doesn’t argue. 

(You love Kyoutani. 

He loves volleyball, and that’s okay. You’ve made your peace with it.

Still, you’re not strong enough to keep yourself from the small, selfish things. You call out to him from behind the door to the gym and lean into him as you laugh, and let yourself pretend that it’s fondness you see in his eyes.)

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

It’s graduation by the time Kentarou realizes that you like him back, and it’s almost too late.

You’re standing before him, eyes downcast and cheeks the same shade of red as his palm after spiking drills, and you’re asking for the second button on his gakuran. The one closest to his heart, the one he hadn’t given to the girl who had asked him for it even before you had. 

(He sees the way your lashes stutter when he leans in. He remembers with sudden, newfound clarity, the way he sometimes catches you looking at him, all soft and shit.

Oh.)

Kentarou fumbles with his gakuran for a moment before he just rips the button out. 

“Here,” he says hoarsely, thrusting it out at you like he isn’t handing you his heart, “I was going to give it to you, anyway.”

He wasn’t. But that was before he’d realized exactly how blind he’s been, and he figures the details don’t really matter, not now. 

Kentarou’s lost all his chances without ever really trying, but you’re handing him a new one, and he’ll take it because all he’s ever had is volleyball and a hunger that had never quietened till he’d heard your voice. 

You smile, and he wonders how he’d ever thought it would be okay to leave without telling you.

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------««

“Are you going away?” You ask as he walks you home that evening, after a dinner that you’re going to call a date, even if it’s only in your head. “For volleyball?”

His steps stutter. “Yeah,” he says after a pause, sounding strangled. “I’ll have to call my parents weekly, though.”

I can call you, he says with every brush of his knuckles against yours, I want to, if you want it too. 

“Guess I’ll have to sign up for international calls service, then,” you say lightly. I want it, I want this, I want you. 

»»------------- ------------- ------------- ¤ ------------- ------------- -------------«« 

a/n: feel free to send me an ask / dm if you’d like to be added to my general taglist!

as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! :D