#oikawa tooru packs

[pfpanimes]

⌕ haikyū - oikawa tooru.

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[luffyttaro]

◌   ꒰  my boy is an ugly crier ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 like/reblog if save

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[i1802s]

@ ⭐️ bamgyuuuu :: #aest art cr mochimattie ; thegreatpeanut

1. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠;

2. in the language of the garden, this is happiness.

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[bytooru]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ Random Anime Packs

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Don't Repost | Não Reposte

#anime layouts #anime packs #spy x family #anya spy x family #anya layouts #haikyuu!! #oikawa tooru #oikawa packs #oikawa layouts #yuri on ice #yuri plisetsky #yuri on ice layouts

[dangotree]

Oikaya Tooru

#oikawa tōru #oikawa icons #anime packs #anime moodboard #haikyuu!! #oikawa tooru

[seijorhi]

Oleander

Oikawa Tooru x female reader x Iwaizumi Hajime w.c 8.6k tw: yandere, mentions of child abuse and neglect, references to underage kissing, murder, horror themes, pseudo-cest (foster siblings), blanket dub/non-con vibes for a good portion of this

The patisserie smells of sugar, vanilla and freshly baked croissants. In a word; delicious. 

For several minutes now, your brother’s been standing bent at the waist, studying the display case stacked full of cakes and desserts with an intense kind of focus. Considering. Deliberating. Inadvertently placing himself, and by extension you, as an obstacle for other people trying to do the same. 

“Alright, the crepe cake or the fancy looking chocolate one, the…” Heisuke squints at the display case, trying to decipher the label, “gateaux? Or should we go for the red one with the strawberry mousse thing?”

Bingo. You hold back a smile. 

“Go the strawberry one.” Nobody loves strawberries like your mom loves strawberries. 

“Ok, great. We’ll grab that, a bottle of nice wine, hit the florist and I think that should do it.” He nods to himself, satisfied. “She’ll be over the moon.”

He’s not wrong. The woman you’ve called a mother for the past ten years would fall over herself for something as simple as a birthday card, regardless of the fact that your dad insists on going all out every year. 

“She’s already over the moon; you’re home for the week.” The admission’s soft, hesitant – poking a little too close to an open wound for you to feel entirely comfortable voicing it. Hei gives you an odd look, but it mellows into something more genuine when he realises you’re not taking a stab at him. 

Baby steps. 

Finally, Heisuke steps up to the counter to order. Within minutes the cake’s boxed up, with little ice-packs slipped in to keep it cool, and paid for, and the two of you head out, you holding the door open for Hei to carefully maneuver his way out without jostling the precious, expensive cargo. 

“You’re good at this stuff, y’know,” he says as the two of you fall into step together. 

“At… picking cakes?”

He snorts, “No. I meant the whole… I don’t know. You’re good at remembering stuff, the cakes mom likes, dad’s weird habits. You probably already know what flowers we’re going to pick for her, don’t you?”

This time you don’t bother hiding your smile – peonies, pink ones. 

You go to tell him as much when a loud voice calls out your name. On instinct, you both spin to the source, and when you meet those piercing, olive green eyes, bearing down at you from the other side of the street, your heart leaps into your throat.

A ghost.

You can’t breathe. For a moment you can’t even think. Your hand stretches out, blindly seeking Heisuke, an anchor, anything–

Before your fingers can brush his sleeve, a hard, lean body collides with yours, sweeping you up into a crushing hug. Not Iwaizumi, though. 

Oikawa, taller, broader than the last time you saw him, smelling of citrus, summer and salt lets out a breathy noise, halfway between amazement and disbelief. 

“There you are,” he beams, setting you back on unsteady legs. 

Found you, the glint in his eyes seems to say. 

Rather than let you go, step back and give you some much needed space to breathe, his palm instead slides to rest on your hip, taking your chin between the index finger and thumb of his other hand in order to look at you properly, dark eyes poring over you for signs of anything amiss – bruises, tear-tracks, red eyes, swollen, split lips. 

Your mouth goes dry. 

On one side, there’s your brother, bewildered, arm half outstretched as if he can’t make his mind up whether he should be intervening or not. Iwa’s already jogging across the street, snarling at a driver who lays on his horn. 

The weight of Oikawa’s appraisal is as familiar to you as it is oppressive, and while his touch is delicate, featherlight, it burns to the marrow. Suddenly you’re fourteen again, trying to duck past him before he can notice the state of you.  

‘It’s nothing, Tooru, don’t worry about it!’ 

And just like back then, there’s a knot in your chest that doesn’t loosen until satisfaction melts the too sharp edge to his grin – right as Iwa joins you two. Three, you suppose, because while Heisuke remains in stunned silence, eyes darting between you and Oikawa, he’s still party to this, still a witness, and the thought makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear forever. 

(You shove down the fleeting rush of warmth at the relief you find there, the voice in your head that coos that he still cares enough to check. You don’t want him to care.)

“Holy fuck,” Iwa laughs, and Oikawa’s shoved aside, both of you ignoring the indignant grumbling as your rigid body’s pulled into his chest, his hand finding its way to the back of your head. He breathes in slow. Deep.

He still smells the same, earthy and masculine, the faintest tinge of his last cigarette still clinging to his jacket. Back then, he used to steal them from your foster father. You imagine that now, he probably has the money to go off and buy his own. 

“I’m sorry, who are you? What– can you let her go, please?” 

If it wasn’t them, the sheer absurdity of the moment might’ve made you giggle. Heisuke’s ears are bright red, a flush that extends down his neck. He doesn’t look angry per se, uncomfortable, absolutely, but from the pinched expression on his face, it’s clear he’s fighting the urge to bite out something far less polite. 

None of this, least of all the way they’re tugging you between them like a rag-doll, feels very polite to begin with.

As it is, Heisuke’s interruption has the intended effect. The fingers wound in your hair twitch, the cage of his arms drawing you closer. You almost expect the baring of teeth, a possessive snarl, yet it’s a small, almost imperceptible thing. He retreats – reluctantly – turning to glance at your brother, Oikawa by his side.

Judging from the stony, almost bored expression he levels at Hei, he’s not impressed.

“Friend of yours, imouto?” Oikawa’s purr skitters down your spine like ice. Unlike Iwa, there’s nothing less than friendly curiosity on the surface. He’s even smiling. 

Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you find your voice. 

“Hei, this is Iwaizumi and Oikawa,” you say, gesturing at each respectively. “We were in the same foster home for a while.” Sparing the two of them half a glance, you continue, “We’re actually right in the middle of something, if you’ll excuse us.”

The explicit dismissal’s bolder than you feel, but you’re proud that your voice doesn’t waver. You can’t say the same for your hand when you reach for Heisuke’s spare one, uttering the words that’ll only damn you further, “C’mon, nii-san. Mom and dad are waiting.”

Heisuke doesn’t blink. His hand slips into yours, the two of you sidestepping the pair and walking off towards the car without a backwards glance. 

Neither one of you speaks until you’re buckled into the passenger seat, Heisuke adjusting the rear-view mirror, the cake safely stashed away in the back. Until you’re pulling out onto the main road and there’s distance between you and them.

If only the gnawing, unsettling feeling in your stomach would go with it.

“Sorry,” you mumble, blankly staring out the window at the passing scenery. At the clouds hanging overhead, dark and threatening. Funny, that. Fitting. The skies were clear when you left home this morning. “About the nii-san thing, and grabbing your hand,” you clarify, because whether it was rude or not, you’ll be damned before you apologise for brushing them off. 

That’s not your relationship with Hei. It’s never been that. 

He eyes you for a beat. “You know, I never understood why mom wanted to adopt so bad. Dad too, but mom was always the one pushing for it. We were happy, the three of us. I wasn’t a screw up, their marriage was solid. I couldn’t understand the need to bring someone else in. Our family was fine, perfect the way it was.”

His thumb taps against the steering wheel, his shoulders loose and relaxed. You can’t quite pin the mood he’s in, where he’s going with this. 

“Oh,” you say, mostly because it feels like he’s waiting for you to acknowledge it. 

None of what he’s saying is news to you. None of it’s anything you haven’t wondered yourself a thousand times over. It’s just that Heisuke… you’ve never talked about this. Your adoption, your relationship with him, none of it. This sort of honesty is brand new territory for you both. 

You’re not so sure you’re loving the development. 

“When they committed to it, I thought they’d bring home a baby, a kid, not some weird, skittish fourteen year old who wanted nothing to do with me.” 

Ah.

Your cheeks heat, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here. If Heisuke notices how you shift in your seat, the small tightening of your expression, he plows on regardless.

“You wouldn’t look at me, would barely talk to me. Hell, you acted like I had the plague most of the time. You didn’t hate me, I don’t think, you just… didn’t want to be anywhere near me, and it bugged the hell out of me. I couldn’t figure it out; who wouldn’t want an older brother to look out for them?” His next words hit you like a sledgehammer, cracking at something vital in your chest. It hurts before he opens his mouth.

“It was them, wasn’t it? The reason you steered clear ‘til I moved out of home.”

“Heis–”

He cuts you off with a look. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he demands. 

“Can we just– it doesn’t matter, alright? Can we move on?”

From the unhappy set of his jaw – the first true sign of discontent he’s expressed since getting in the car with you – it’s obvious there’s more he wants to say. You can’t blame him for that, curiosity’s only human. 

But you’re still too raw. It’s too soon.

You’ve spent too long burying those secrets deep to rip yourself apart to bring them to light. 

“Please, Hei. Let’s focus on mom’s birthday.” You force a smile, tiny and wrong, “The florist is next, yeah?” 

You get a grunt of acknowledgement and not much more than that, your brother’s attention pulling back to the drive. The silence that settles in the car should bring some relief. It’s what you wanted, and yet, amongst the churning feeling in your guts, the prickling at the back of your neck that hasn’t left you since you first spotted Iwa across the road, there’s a sense of discomfort that has nothing to do with crossing paths with your past life. 

Like a slap in the face, it hits you that you’re floundering for something to say, something – anything – to bridge the sudden, stark divide between you. Something that won’t sound hollow and meaningless. 

This thing you have with Heisuke. It took years, and maybe it’s skin deep and miles from what it should be, but the thought of losing it leaves you feeling oddly panicked.

It’ll… hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, because it’s about all you can give him right now, a tried and true method of soothing egos and hurt. 

Heisuke doesn’t say anything for the remainder of the drive, and you resign yourself to the very real possibility that in the course of a single conversation, you’ve managed to fracture this fragile thing between you two. 

Until you go for the door, and a hand on your wrist stops you. “Hey. I’m glad they did.”

—

When you startle awake a little after midnight, it’s because he’s yelling again. 

Mr. Furukawa had been in fine form at dinner, already three beers deep. You can only begin to imagine what’s set him off now, hours after lights out. His wife, probably. Although it’s equally possible he’s caught the oldest sneaking back in from seeing his girlfriend, or the twins trying to break into the pantry for a midnight snack. Or he tripped and stubbed his toe, or thought someone stole the rest of his beer when in reality he’d already swallowed it down. 

The reasons don’t really matter when he’s been drinking like that, in the same way that the initial target of his ire doesn’t matter. Once his voice reaches that slurred, furious pitch, anyone’s fair game.

There’s a pair of headphones in the top drawer, you have every intention of yanking them out and putting on one of your sleep playlists, drowning out the noise of your foster father’s drunken raging until he wears himself out or you fall back to sleep when you hear the thumping of his feet on the staircase.

“Where’s that fucking bitch?”

Eyes wide in the darkness, clutching at the comforter, your pulse jumps.

Again, it’s possible he’s talking about Mrs. Furukawa, or one of your foster sisters – the older one hunched over in the bed opposite yours, watching you shrewdly.

“Well go on then,” she sneers. “Run to your big brothers.”

You don’t bother to respond, any hesitation you might’ve had over leaving her to fend for herself shrivelling up under the mocking bitterness she’s sending your way. Fine, whatever. You don’t care what she thinks, scrambling from the warmth of your bed and hurrying for the door.

He’s halfway up the staircase when you reach their room. You’d knock – it’s the polite thing to do – except you definitely don’t want to be out in plain view when your foster father hits the landing. 

“Hajime?” you whisper into the darkness, slipping inside and shutting the door behind you, “Tooru?”

“Shit, c’mere.” At Hajime’s voice, the calloused, rough hands that guide you onto his mattress, the vice around your chest loosens. He won’t come in here, not after Hajime socked him in the face after catching sight of the raised, discoloured flesh of your cheek from your last run in. You’ve gotten better at using make-up to conceal the marks since then, but there’s also been less of a need for it.

“Can I stay for a bit?” you ask. Until he calms down and passes out. Until the sun rises and you can sneak back into your room. Until you feel safe again. It’s kind of a pointless question, considering how many times you’ve done this before and how many times they’ve let you. You ask it anyway.

The scoff that sounds moments before the mattress dips on your other side is answer enough. “You should probably just move in at this point. We’ll kick Iwa out, he can go sleep in bitch-face’s room.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, a not-so-nice grin tugs at your lips, nestling into Tooru’s side under the arm he offers, “She’d drive him homicidal in a week.”

“Doesn’t she already?” Hajime mutters. “And fuck off, if anyone’s moving out it’s you.” 

“You’d miss me too much.”

Absentmindedly, he rubs at your arm like it’s second nature. “In your dreams, Shitty-kawa.”

You can still hear Mr. Furukawa stomping around outside, snarling and snapping at no-one and nothing. Your pulse skitters, an inbuilt panic response. But the lights are off, you’re not being too noisy, and he’s wary of the other two.

He won’t come in here. 

“Relax, we’ve got you,” Tooru breathes, his nose nudging at your temple. “Where were you this afternoon?” His voice is so soft, a soothing rumble that it takes you a second to register what he’s said. 

“This afternoon?”

“Mm. You didn’t come home when you were supposed to. We were worried.”

He’s pouting, you can tell. Which– he can’t be genuinely bothered by it, it was only a few hours, and the Furukawas don’t care where you are or what you do so long as you’re back before curfew. You were. 

A distraction then?

“I went out with some friends. We hung out at the arcade for a bit,” your expression brightens, thinking of the lights and the laughter, your feet blurring as you hit the sensors on Dance Dance Revolution… poorly. “It was actually pretty fun!”

Tooru hums again, “Which friends?” at the same time that Hajime says, “You didn’t tell us you were going out.”

“I didn’t realise I had to check in.” And because the slightly bitter and very defensive edge to your tone catches even you by surprise, you sigh, softening. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I? A social life?”

You’ve been in this home for a few months now, and this is the first time any of your classmates have invited you anywhere. 

This time it’s Tooru who sighs. He coaxes your face upwards with a hand on your cheek, peering through the dim light at you, “I’m not saying this to be cruel or hurt you, but… I need you to be more careful, okay?”

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His thumb glides across your cheek bone, hesitating on whatever it is he wants to say– at least until Hajime huffs and mutters, “Just tell her, dude. You’re the one that brought it up.”

“Tell me what?”

“You’re a foster kid,” he reminds you, as if this is vital information that’s somehow slipped your mind. “That’s all they see when they look at us, all they’ll ever see. No money, no family, nothing worth wasting their time on. We’re charity cases at best, at worst…” he trails off, the sentence dangling in the air. 

He thinks it’s a trick, you realise. He thinks they’re setting you up in an elaborate joke where you’re the punchline. 

Bright blue eyes and a crooked grin flash in your head. Cheeks dusted pink and the warmth of his hand in yours. 

“That’s not true,” you defend, though the words sound weak even to your ears. 

Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, the gentle, pitying expression on his face twists at your insides like a knife. You hardly notice Hajime scooching closer, shifting the blankets so they cover you both, too busy staring at your foster brother with wide eyes and parted lips, a thick lump of emotion lodging itself in your throat. Tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, and you blink them back.

You won’t cry in front of them over this. You refuse.

“No? You’ve been here for months now. If they wanted to be your friend, truly, genuinely wanted that, why haven’t they made an effort before now? I’m not trying to be a dick,” he murmurs when your breathing hitches, “The kids in this town, they’re assholes. I just can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you.”

Hajime nods. “We only wanna protect you, imouto.”

But you don’t need to be protected. Omori isn’t like that. His friends aren’t either. 

—

When the last bell rings for the day, you walk down to the gates to find Hajime there, leaning against the brickwork with a pilfered cigarette dangling between his fingers. 

That in and of itself isn’t a surprise. Lately they’ve taken up the habit of ditching their last period to make the half mile trek to your school in order to walk back home with you. Most days, you don’t mind. Today, however–

“I sent you a message at lunch, you didn’t need to come all the way down here, I’m going to a friend’s place to study. Sorry, I thought you would’ve seen it before you left.”

He drops the cherry red remnants of his cigarette to the ground and grinds the butt under his heel, eyeing you slowly from head to toe. “Which friend?”

“When did you become so nosey?” you laugh, a touch uneasily. “It’s only for an hour or so, I’ll be back before dinner, promise. I’m all yours after that.” The last part’s meant to lighten the mood a little, yet something flashes in his eyes, a twitch in his jaw, and you get the sense that he doesn’t find it all that funny. 

“Which friend? That slimy piece of shit you were hanging out with last weekend?”

Omori? How does he–

You frown, “We went to the movies, Hajime, it’s not illegal. And he’s not slimy or a little shit, he’s my friend.” A friend who sets butterflies loose in your stomach and makes you weak at the knees, but Hajime doesn’t need to know that. 

“Oh, I’m sure he wants to be your friend,” he mutters darkly. 

Your cheeks burn hotly, “Why are you being like this? He’s a nice guy. Besides, it’s not him. I’m going to Masako’s to work on a group presentation we’ve got due in a few days. I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal out of it!”

“Your mistake,” he says, as if you’re the one being unreasonable here, and before you can spit out a retort, his hand is curled around your bicep, tugging you down the road. “C’mon, we’re going home. Tell your little friend you can work on your project tomorrow at lunch.” 

“Ha-Hajime!” His too tight grip on you doesn’t relent, his stride doesn’t falter. Nervously, you dart a glance around, half hoping that someone will intercede, all the while praying that no one’s actually noticed him dragging you off like a misbehaving toddler.

As always, you’re not that lucky. The sight of your classmates pointing your way, giggling behind their hands sends a hot pulse of shame flooding through you. 

“You know you’re not my actual brother, I don’t need your permission!” 

That does stop him, turning back around to throw a scowl at you, “No? Because I don’t see anyone else lining up to stop you from spreading your legs for the first asshole who comes sniffing around. Jesus Christ, weren’t you listening the other day?”

“I’m fourteen!” you shriek, ripping your arm away from him. “Stop being gross and leave me alone, I already told you I’m going to Masako’s. We have a project. For school!”

In an instant, he closes the gap between you. Hajime isn’t as tall as Tooru, but at two years older, he still towers over you, all broad shouldered and intense, and while he’s always cut an intimidating figure, it strikes you that this is the first time you’ve ever looked at him and felt afraid.

A split second later, and he exhales with a mumbled curse, the tension deflating from his body like a pin’s been pulled. In a quieter voice, hooking an arm over your neck to press a fleeting kiss to your hair, he says, “Sometimes it feels like I’m losing my damn mind trying to keep us all safe and sane and fucking together.”

It’s not exactly an apology. Still…you shift on your feet, nibbling at your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for snapping,” you mumble – an olive branch, even if you’re not feeling particularly charitable right now. The problem is, you do understand where he’s coming from. In two years, they’ll both age out, free to go and do whatever the hell they want. There’s a not insignificant part of you that’s terrified that when that time comes, they’re not gonna hang around another two years waiting for you. 

You’re not sure you can hold them to that promise. 

And that’s if nothing happens before then. Foster kids in group homes get shuffled all the time, there’s no guarantee all three of you will still be with the Furukawas come their 18th birthdays. 

Of course he’s over-protective. Of course he’s being a little nuts about it. 

Hajime nods, pats you on the head and gives you a rare smile, “Good. Now get your ass moving, we gotta get home.”

“Wait, but I thought–” you’d apologised, he’d admitted he was overreacting… sort of. Isn’t that enough?

“Social worker’s coming by this afternoon. Furukawa wants us to play happy families ‘til they’re gone. Your friend’s gonna have to wait.”

And that’s that. 

Dejection washes over you, trudging back home with Hajime – trying not to be childish and petty and hold it against him.

The social worker never shows, but there’s a message waiting on your phone when you finally manage to pry yourself away from Hajime and Tooru.

Your brother’s a dick. Raincheck? ;)

Butterflies erupt. 

—

You’ve been biting your lip again.

The raw, chapped evidence stares back at you in the mirror. 

A few days ago, they were a little swollen, rough and reddened. The sight of it sent a giddy sort of thrill through you, a physical – if not sore – reminder of your afternoon spent kissing a cute boy with very pretty blue eyes. 

Now, the state of your lips is the least of your worries. You’ll bite your lips, gnaw on your fingernails right down to the quick, pace and think and pace and think, fingers tap, tap tapping at your side.

“You look tired.” 

The arms that loop around your shoulders, dragging you back into a loose hug don’t bring the sense of comfort they usually do. Things have been weird between you. Off.

Ever since Tooru caught sight of your face that day, saw the messages on your phone. 

‘I never took you for a liar, imouto.’

The resultant argument left you choking on sobs, heart-broken and beaten down in a way that you haven’t felt since you found out your parents died. 

It’s a strange, alienating thing to be cut so viciously by the only people who give a damn about you.

At first, you had Omori there to help pick up the pieces. He wasn’t allowed over, of course, and even if he were, you doubt it’d do anything but throw a whole gallon of kerosene on the fire. Still, being able to message and vent to him felt like a lifeline. 

And then he simply… stopped replying. Your last message sitting there for two days on read.

You tried not to feel hurt. Maybe this whole thing was too intense, too quick. My god, you weren’t even dating officially, he was just, you were–

It was fine. Not everyone’s tied to their phone, and he doesn’t owe you anything. Maybe something came up, maybe his phone died.

But then, come Monday, he wasn’t in school.

On Tuesday morning, sitting in first period maths, a grim-faced man in a dull suit informs your class that Omori’s been missing since Saturday morning. You’re passed a business card with the detective’s name and phone number printed in crisp, black font and encouraged to contact him if there’s anything you can think of that might help them.

Uneasy looks are shared. No one says a word.

Which brings you to today, to the hug Tooru’s drawn you into and his voice murmuring at your ear. 

“Aren’t you still mad at me?”

His laugh rumbles at your back, “Maybe I miss you too much.”

You should tell him to shove it. Whether you’re in the right or the wrong, it’s not fair of him to play hot and cold with you like this. Being at odds with your brothers is painful enough on its own, dealing with that on top of everything with Omori – it’s too much. You’ll drown under the weight of it.

And so you turn, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying yourself against him. “I don’t wanna fight anymore. I’m sorry.”

While he doesn’t say anything back, he does squeeze you that little bit tighter. You’re content with that, soaking up the affection and comfort you’ve sorely been without. It’s an apology, yes. It’s also forgiveness. 

“Where’s Hajime?” you ask after a little while. They aren’t inseparable by any means, but you don’t think you’ve seen him this afternoon at all. 

Rather than answering you, the brunet pulls back enough to meet your gaze, a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re going out tonight.”

The words bring you up short. “But–”

“Furukawa won’t know a thing. It’ll be fun, pinky promise.” He holds out said pinky, the grin on his face infectious enough that you offer a tiny one of your own, locking your finger around his.

He winks. 

—

“Sweetheart, shall we open the wine?”

She hasn’t stopped beaming all afternoon, delighted at the flowers and the gifts, your dad humming away in the kitchen, cooking enough to feed a small army.  

Heisuke’s already plucking a bottle from the fridge, glasses set out on the counter. He lifts a questioning brow in your direction and you nod with as much of a smile as you can muster. Nothing sounds more appealing to you right now than a drink.

Several of them, actually. You’ll start with one.

“Thanks,” you murmur when he passes it to you. 

Quietly enough that your parents won’t hear, he asks, “You good?”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, lying through your teeth. His knuckles knock against yours, and when you glance up, there’s a wordless promise that the two of you aren’t done with this. 

He’s been watching you ever since you got home. Not in the predatory, possessive way they used to, just… you very reluctantly gave him crumbs – not even that much – yet he’s staring at you like you’re a piece of a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you don’t know how to deal with it. 

It makes you nervous.

“Did something happen between you two?” The quiet voice at your side startles you – perhaps you’re more on edge than you’d like to admit, because your whole body flinches, the wine in your glass sloshing up over the rim, just barely avoiding your dress and the edge of the couch. 

You hadn’t even noticed your mom had sat down.

Cursing under your breath, you jump up before she can, snatching some paper towels from the kitchen, paying no mind the slight, disapproving tilt to your father’s mein (the one which, to his credit, he does try to hide) to mop up the mess on the floor.

“Sorry,” you throw out, both for the spill and for swearing, because that too is something neither of your parents are fond of, but your mom’s quick to wave it away.

“Nonsense. You’re fine, sweet girl. Come, sit!” She pats the seat you’ve vacated. “Relax.”

Your dad’s in the kitchen, laughing with Hei. Your mom’s still happy – it’s slowly leaching from her eyes the longer she looks at you, the more she sees. Relax. 

Today’s supposed to be a happy day.

Relax. 

You can’t.

They know some of your past. Bits and pieces. 

In ten years, you’ve never uttered a single word about them. Not to anyone. 

The more you shove it down, the more it fights back, bubbling away inside of you like the tempest of a storm. You can feel yourself cracking, unshed tears burning at your eyes. 

You can’t.

“… Mom–”

A knock cuts through the rising tide of emotion battering through you, and all four of you start. 

Your dad moves first, drying his hands and striding on over to answer it. On his way, he glances to where you and your mom are sitting – instinctively. Unthinkingly. He glances her way a thousand times a day – to check in, to see what she’s doing, to catch those little expressions she makes, only this time he isn’t met with the picture of a happy wife and daughter. You see it when it hits him, the tension, your wrought expression, the hand your mom’s slipped you in the seconds since, holding you tight and keeping you tethered.

You see it when he does a double take, sharp surprise quickly overtaken by alarm. 

Another knock at the door. Louder. 

His head snaps back towards the door, glaring at it like it’s personally wronged him. “One sec,” he mutters to no one in particular, and your mom squeezes your hand as he yanks it open with a touch more force than necessary.

“Yes?”

The air punches out of your lungs.

From where you’re sitting, the door cracked ajar, your dad’s frame blocking the gap, you can’t see who’s there. Not until he peeks over your dad’s shoulder, his charming grin widening into something shark-like and predatory when he spots you, delighted. 

An elevator careening out of control, your stomach plummets.

Ignoring your dad – your family as a whole – entirely, Oikawa addresses you. “You dropped this this morning. Clumsy girl.” 

Iwa passes him something, your wallet, you realise when he holds it out to you, waving it like a dog treat. 

Your wallet with your ID, this address, tucked away inside. 

The wallet you absolutely, in no way dropped. 

Primarily on instinct, shaking like a newborn foal, you start to rise, to stumble forward and take it from him, only it’s Heisuke who moves first. Angrier than you think you’ve ever seen him, he plants himself between you, one arm outstretched as if to keep you back, his withering gaze fixed on the duo.

“Thank you for returning it,” he bites out. “You can leave now.”

For your parents, already on edge, suspicious by their familiarity and your reaction to it, it’s enough to set their hackles up. Gone is any semblance of politeness when your father snatches your wallet from Oikawa’s fingers, “Go.”

Up until now, Oikawa’s paid them all the attention one would a gnat, an annoyance maybe, but one hardly worth acknowledging. That changes as his head tilts, dark eyes appraising your father. 

“What’s the rush?” he asks, reaching behind him. You can’t see it, what with your dad and now Heisuke standing between you, but there’s movement, your dad lets out a sudden, choked off gurgle, lurching back inside. 

Your eyes widen, a bone chilling horror taking hold of you as you spy the sleek black handle of a knife sticking out his gut, a slow stain of red seeping out around it. 

“We’ve still got so much catching up to do.”

—

You’ve never been this far into the woods before.

Stars glitter overhead, condensation from your breath puffing out with every exhale. It’s cold out. The path you’re walking isn’t one of the trails they lay for hikers and tourists, and you’ve been walking for a while. 

Still, Tooru’s hand is warm entwined with yours, and there’s that wicked thrill in your belly that comes from breaking the rules, doing secret, exciting things in the dead of night.

“Is Hajime waiting for us?” you ask, when you can hold the question back no longer.

“Always Hajime with you, isn’t it,” he teases. “Y’know, a guy could develop a complex with all this favouritism being thrown around.”

You’re pulled closer into his side even as he says it, and you go happily. You’ve got your brothers back – tonight you’re only thinking good thoughts. 

Tonight he promised you fun.

A giddy bounce in your step, you follow where your big brother leads until you spot a glow in the trees ahead, smell the smoke on the mid-autumn breeze.

Tooru grins in the dark, “Have you ever been to a bonfire?”

You shake your head. 

It takes another few minutes before you can see the fire in all its grandeur, Hajime standing off to the side, warming his hands against the flames. They dance through the clearing, bright and high and hot, hot enough that you briefly consider shedding the jacket Tooru swaddled you up in before you left.

A bonfire? 

They built this for you?

You look incredulously to Tooru, “This is where he’s been all day?”

“More or less.”

“Do you like it, pretty girl?” Hajime calls out when you’re closer. Your hand slips from Tooru’s as you leap forward, allowing him to catch you in his arms and tug you against him, and like earlier with Tooru, it eases some of the hurt weighing you down. He’s here, he’s not angry anymore, you can fight and argue like siblings but they aren’t going anywhere. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing down your hair. “It’s pretty cool,” you tell him with a decisive nod, making him chuckle. 

“Maybe we should add more accelerant,” Tooru says, eyeing the flames with a considering look. “I don’t know if it’s hot enough.”

Hajime scoffs, “We don’t need any more accelerant.”

“But–”

“It’s fine, dumbass. Leave it.”

Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Tooru takes the space on your other side. In the Western movies you’ve seen, these bonfire things usually have more of a party-like vibe. There’s music and dancing. Drinking. This is something wholly different.

You don’t mind the quiet, though, sitting between your brothers on the fallen log they dragged over. Listening to the crackle of the fire. Watching red embers spark and fly off into the night. 

You’ve missed this. Them. 

In the hypnosis of the fire, the heat that covers you like a blanket – burning strongly enough, despite what Tooru thinks, that down to a tee-shirt, leaning into Hajime’s side, Tooru playing with your fingers, you feel you could so easily drift off to sleep, sated and content.

“You love us, don’t you?” Tooru says it so quietly, so off-handedly, that for a moment you don’t hear the stinging accusation beneath the words. 

When it does, whatever fleeting contentment you’d managed to wrap yourself up in is ripped away, leaving you cold and exposed. 

A slap in the face might’ve stung less.

You gape at him. At the both of them. “How can you ask me that?”

Tooru shrugs, casual and cruel, “I dunno. You lied to us. Multiple times.”

“Snuck around behind our backs,” Hajime adds.

“Kept things from us. Don’t think we haven’t noticed the new lock on your phone, imouto. Doesn’t sound like love to me.”

“I– I’ve already apologised.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but with every word that pours out of you, the faster your heart beats and the more distress leaks into your tone. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I went behind your backs, I’m sorry I kissed him! I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t know how to fix this!” 

Hot tears spring to your eyes, stinging as you ferociously blink them back. 

If you start crying now, they’ll probably just mock you. That, or they’ll claim that you’re trying to manipulate them into feeling bad with crocodile tears and hiccuping sniffles. 

In a tiny voice, you say, “I didn’t do any of it to hurt you. Please,” you beg helplessly. “You can’t keep holding it over my head and punishing me for it.”

“You think we’re punishing you?” Tooru asks, still in that cold, flat tone that makes you want to sob.

Aren’t they? Sure feels like it.

Hajime lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head and staring up at the night sky. “You still don’t fucking get it.” 

Hands slip under your armpits and without warning you find yourself hoisted onto Tooru’s lap. It’s whiplash, especially when he curls around you, those lithe arms caging you in, and presses a kiss to your burning cheek. “Iwa, brute that he is, is right. You’re not listening to us. This isn’t punishment. You can pretend to hate us, cry, yell, fight. You can try to shut us out if that’s what you feel you need, but this,” his chin juts out at the bonfire crackling merrily a few feet away, “this is love.” He shivers as he says it, voice like honey. “We did it for you, and I’d do so much more.”

Your head’s still spinning, reeling from being yanked from one extreme to another. Hot and cold. Spiteful to affectionate. You stare at the fire, but you don’t understand. 

“Yeah, like you didn’t enjoy the hell out of it,” Hajime snorts, which makes even less sense.

“…You mean the– the bonfire?”

Tooru laughs. His nose skims along the shell of your ear, earning him a shiver of your own. “Hm, almost.”

So you peer at the fire like it’s supposed to give you the answers you need. There’s nothing. It’s a fire, there’s nothing special about…

Oh.

You learn forward – as much as the cage of his embrace will allow, at any rate – squinting a little. Nestled beneath the stacked logs and kindling, there’s an oddly shaped lump, black and gnarled, with ridges and a scooped out hollow that kinda looks like–

Your blood runs cold. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” he croons. “You’ve been so sad all week, wondering where your friend up and disappeared to. Aren’t you glad to see him again?”

“No.” Whisper soft, the noise lost to the crackling of the fire. You shake your head, “This– you’re being cruel. Stop it, it’s not funny.” 

But the tears you’ve so valiantly held back are falling, your breath coming in short, panicky gasps. The skull in the fire doesn’t look fake, and if this is a prank, it’s gone beyond too far.

Your head grows light and all too heavy at the same time, “That isn’t– you didn’t– you… you– you wouldn’t–”

“No?” the voice at your ear questions, low and dangerous. “You think I wouldn’t stab the little fuck after you kissed him?”

“Stop it,” you tearfully beg, squeezing your eyes shut. The skull’s still there, burned into the back of your eyelids. 

No, no, no. Omori isn’t dead. 

Omori isn’t dead.

Your heart slams against your ribs, a violent chorus to the swell of sick dread and fear you’re desperately trying to tamp down. Omori isn’t dead!

“STOP IT!” 

They wouldn’t kill him. 

The crunch of footsteps sounds, and you don’t need your vision to know that Hajime’s now crouching in front of you. When rough fingers seize your jaw, holding you in place, and he leans in close, almost nose to nose, they fly open regardless. 

“You ever try that shit again, and next time we’ll drag you by the fucking hair and do it in front of you,” he promises, calm despite the fury that rages in his eyes. 

Caged between them, Hajime appraises you, taking in your hysteria, the tears dripping down your face, your bottom lip quivering – as though he’s committing the sight to memory. His eyes dart to Tooru’s for a brief second, the latter squeezing your side, before he speaks. “If you’d listened to us in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t make us into monsters, sweetheart.”

Your fault is what you hear. 

There’s a loud pop from the fire, and you lose it entirely. 

You explode. Elbows flying, kicking, clawing. A wild, terrified, desperate thing, and it takes them by surprise – enough to catch Tooru in the gut, loosening his grip. Enough to knock Hajime back onto his ass. A gap, however small, for you to scramble to your knees, violently kicking back when a hand snatches at your ankle, and flee through the woods in the dark, away from the furious shouts, the raging footsteps chasing after you. 

You run and your lungs burn, heaving for every breath. 

The light of the bonfire disappears behind you, plunging the forest into an inky black, and the shouts and yells turn into calls of your name, then coaxing pleas, almost sounding worried. Eventually, those grow distant too, and fade away altogether. 

You keep running, uncertain of where you’re going. No, blind to it entirely. All that matters is keeping out of their reach. You’ll run to the ends of the earth if you have to. 

And so you push until your legs scream for a reprieve, until you taste iron on your tongue and when your body can keep the pace no longer, you stumble through the underbrush, tripping over roots and branches instead, pausing every once in a while to lean against a tree and catch your breath. 

As your adrenaline fades and the sweat dampening your clothes cools, the cold night air bites like needles at your skin, you start to shiver, rubbing at your exposed arms in an effort to generate a little warmth. Bitterly, you remember that the jacket that you’d brought, the one Tooru had all but forced on you before you’d left, is back at the bonfire, slung over a nearby log. Useless to you now. 

But the shivers that wrack your body aren’t solely from the dropping temperature.

Every snapping branch, hoot of an owl, rustle of leaves sends a fresh wave of terror spiking through you. You think of Tooru’s cruel smirk and Hajime’s bruising grip, of Omori’s skull staring back at you from the fire, flesh melted to the bone, black and twisted, and a ragged, distraught sob brings you to your knees.

Hopelessly lost, cold, frightened and alone, you curl into the dirt and cry. 

—

Hikers find you at dawn. 

Emergency services are called – an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital to be poked and prodded, police to question why a fourteen year old girl was wandering the woods alone at night.

They treat you for dehydration and mild hypothermia, a few small cuts and scrapes, and when a soft spoken nurse pulls the curtain around your bed and gently asks if you’d like them to perform a rape kit, you blanch and shake your head. Eventually, they allow the detective into the room. In his late forties, bespectacled, a smattering of grey dusted throughout his close cropped black hair, he pulls up a chair beside the bed and patiently asks how you’re feeling.

If you were a better person, you’d tell him everything. The Furukawas’ abuse, your foster brothers’ increasingly overprotective behaviour, sneaking behind their back to see Omori and the fight that followed that nearly ripped you apart. 

The bonfire.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

Omori deserves that much. His parents should know what happened to their son.

Your jacket lying forgotten by his bones. 

“Please don’t take me back there,” you mumble, tears shining in your eyes. 

Back to the woods, or the Furukawas. Back to the boys you’d loved who’d murdered for you.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter that that’s all they can get out of you. A traumatised teenager found miles from home without a single soul raising the alarm would be one thing. When that traumatised teenager’s a girl supposedly under the care of government approved guardians, it raises red flags not even they can ignore.

By lunch, they’ve arranged for you to be placed back in an all-girl orphanage until a more suitable, long term solution can be found.

—

Some nights you dream that you’re back there, in their bedroom at the Furukawas’. It’s dark and cozy, there’s an arm slung over your waist and you find yourself drifting off to the steady beat of the heart behind you, soft snores by your ear.

They’re nice dreams. You feel safe, loved. 

Tucked away in your subconscious, nothing exists but the sanctuary of them, and when you inevitably feel that tug of awareness coaxing you awake, you sink your fingers in and cling to it for dear life. 

Just another minute. Another few seconds. Please.

Right now, you’d give anything to wake up and have this be nothing more than a nightmare you can banish. 

But there’s no escaping this one. Your dad’s on the living room floor by the couch, hunkered over, pale and sweaty, pressing what was once a clean dish towel to the wound in his stomach. The coffee table’s been pushed to the side, Heisuke and your mom sat on the chairs Oikawa dragged into its place, ankles zip-tied to the legs, wrists bound, duct tape slapped across both of their mouths. Between the knife Oikawa idly toys with, still wet with blood, the handgun held loosely in Iwa’s palm and your dad slowly bleeding out on the floor, they’ve been compliant. 

Much like you have, although you’re neither bound nor gagged, sitting in the armchair Iwa ushered you to, arms looped around your knees with the man himself perched against the backrest.

The only one of you making any kind of noise at all is your dad, his voice a slurring mumble, words near intelligible. He’s begging, you can tell that much. Pleading through gritted teeth for them to let you go, not to hurt you, your mom, Hei. 

You desperately wanna tell him to save his breath, but you can’t even look at him – at any of them – without wanting to throw up.

“Do you still love us, imouto?”

Your eyes track Oikawa as he leans over the two chairs, the edge of his knife carelessly poised above Heisuke’s shoulder. From your periphery you see him flinch and stiffen, the sharp uptick of his breath smothered by duct tape, but you don’t dare shift your attention from the brunet smiling genially back at you.

Your heart squeezes, clenched by an invisible fist. Buried deep beneath the guilt and the paralysing dread, a slightly hysterical part of you almost wants to laugh. 

“Do you think I could ever stop?” 

Surprise flashes in his eyes and his grin widens. “You ran,” he accuses.

“You ran again this morning,” Iwa adds, sounding far less amused.

“I was scared.”

“Of us?” Iwa slides off the back of the couch, straightening up. In an instant, his hand’s wrapped around your throat, the broad pad of his thumb forcing your jaw upwards. “You think we’d ever fucking hurt you?” he growls, looking genuinely angry. 

Distantly you register the sound of Heisuke’s muffled indignation, another gasping wheeze from your dad, but all that fades to the background as Iwa’s mouth crashes against yours.

He doesn’t kiss you sweetly. It’s invasive, rough. His hand flexes around your throat, forcing a gasp to drive his tongue between your lips, and you can feel every ounce of possession, of pent up need and frustration as he drags it on despite the awkward angle. 

When he does break away, eyes darkened and simmering, he holds your gaze, ignoring the pointed throat clearing from the other side of the room. “Never,” he swears, waiting for you to nod before finally relaxing his grip. “Good girl.” To Oikawa, watching you both with a barely constrained hunger, he says, “Enough screwing around. Do it and let’s go.”

Oikawa huffs, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Should’ve known you’d get all impatient after you had a taste.”

“Like you’re not?”

There’s not enough air in the room, your heart’s doing somersaults in your chest, your pulse hammering through your veins. Oikawa stares at you, head tilted, the corner of his lip slowly curling up as you start to tremble, shaking your head, tears beading at your lashes, “I guess we could hurry it along.”

“No, please–” 

“Shh, sweet girl. It’s okay.” You try to stand up, but Iwa takes a hold of your shoulder and forces you back down. “Me and Iwa, we were gonna give you a choice. Let you pick. If you could kill one of them, we’d let the other two go.”

A strangled sob rips its way free, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. We’re not gonna make you do that,” he comforts, side-stepping your now thrashing brother to make his way over towards you. “Cause the thing is, they kept you from us. Lied to you. Manipulated you. Whether they meant to or not, they hurt you. I don’t think they deserve that kind of mercy, do you?”

“No, no, no, please! Please don’t, please don’t hurt them–”

Abandoning his knife, he drops to a crouch in front of you, “We’re gonna make it right, and then we’ll go home, okay? We’ll take care of it.”

“Please, Tooru! I’ll do anything!”

There’s a kiss pressed to the crown of your head, the cushion behind your back being tugged free. “You don’t need to do anything,” Iwa says, the cold cocking of his gun echoing like a death knell.

 “We love you. This one’s on us.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere iwaizumi hajime #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon

[lujingheswife]

and it felt like home again.

summary: when he gets drowned in exhaustion and homesickness, the first thing he wishes for is home.

featuring: oikawa tooru

word count: 729

cw: gn!reader, timeskip!oikawa tooru, comfort, oikawa is just homesick, not proofread, intentional lowercase, a bit of fluff <3

author’s notes: wanna write a fic of a character feeling homesick and exhausted (because i was) and oikawa was the first person that came into my mind! hope you enjoyyy

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

it was seven o clock in the evening.

tooru limply stepped into his rented apartment, the familiar loneliness welcoming him with silence. his eyes felt droopy from lack of sleep, his body sore from multiple rounds of exercising and his arms bruised from the strong receives.

he should be used to this, which he is, yet it happened to be one of those days when he felt absolutely, dreadfully exhausted.

he would be lying if he says he does not want to go home; he really wanted to. the countless practices had always made him wanting to just pack his bags and leave. he missed his family and his mother’s home cooked meals, he missed enjoying authentic ramen at the restaurant near his high school, he missed being in the arms if his partner just taking his time to relax.

he missed his home.

tooru placed his bags by the entrance, not bothering to arrange them somewhere. he kicked his shoes off without caring to keep them nicely in the shoe rack. he let his legs drag him towards the nearest, softest place he could find to rest— the sofa.

the apartment was dark although illuminated by the light lingering in the evening sky. he heavily rested an arm over his eyes, a loud sigh escaped his lips.

the first person that came into his mind was you.

he wanted to see you.

tooru suddenly thought of his phone that was left forgotten in his bag. he slightly lifted his arm to take a peek at his bag, but ignored it after.

whatever, not in the mood...

just a little longer maybe.

when his eyes could no longer bear the weight of his consciousness, they finally put him into slumber.

he found himself in a dream. he was in a field of grass with nothing else around him. every direction he went showed no signs of obstacle, only an endless field.

what was he searching for?

where was he going?

he continued walking aimlessly.

ah... how long have i been walking for?

the sound of a bell ringing came to him from the front. it caught his attention, and his legs picked up the pace. there he was, running towards where the bell rung from in hopes of a destination.

a flash of light blinded him.

tooru jotted awake from the sofa as the sound of the ringing doorbell continued echoing the apartment. confused, he definitely recalled not ordering any food delivery today nor did he invite anyone to come over.

"coming," he called. he groggily dragged himself towards the door, not bothering to check his phone again.

his hand reached for the doorknob as he unlocked it open. he had not look at who the person is, yet the shoes definitely belonged to someone familiar. "do you need anythi-"

"tooru!"

what?

his once droopy eyes widened immediately at the familiar voice calling for his name. his head shot up from facing the floor, immediately locking eyes with you.

you stood in front of his door with a big backpack clinging onto your back like a koala and a luggage standing next to you. you were there, physically, in front of him, plastering a grin that he loved so much on your face. "you did not answer my call," you said as you pouted your lips on purpose, yet he was sure that you were simply amused at your boyfriend's reaction.

tooru remained speechless as he observed you top to toe, confirming whether its the real deal, his precious partner, in front of his doorstep. was it a coincidence that you somehow magically appeared in front of him like an angel during the times when he needed you the most? probably.

his hand left the door knob as he immediately pulled you into a tight, warm embrace. how surreal did it feel when he buried his face in the crook of your neck, enjoying the coziness he longed to feel. he felt you responding to his hug as you returned it, and he could feel your familiar scent tickling his nose saying, "it's been a while!"

he stayed with you for a little longer before getting pestered to help you with your heavy bags. he asked no questions, just clinging onto you like a helpless toddler and ended the day with a cuddle.

and it felt like home again.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa tooru fluff #oikawa fluff

[songsofadelaide]

Invisible String

cw: female reader, fluff, slice of life, friends to lovers, time skips, no use of yn and instead follows my usual naming convention (I use Otome as a placeholder for yn since it means maiden, which pretty much means yn too), some inaccurate depictions of university life and inaccurate details about air travel between two countries. wc: 6k

Instead of finding a quiet place where he could lament his last days in junior high school in peace, Oikawa Tooru found you. 

Glimpses of your odd relationship with up-and-coming volleyball superstar Oikawa Tooru, starting from your accidental first meeting to defining the very thing that you have.

Instead of finding a quiet place where he could lament his last days in junior high school in peace, Oikawa Tooru found you.

He entered the Literature Club room in a rush, noting it was probably the first one he reached without bursting into tears over the Kitagawa Daiichi Boys' Volleyball Club's recent loss to Shiratorizawa Junior High. The brunette expected the room to be empty, but there you were, startled by the rattling of the door after being so engrossed in your own writing.

You recognised him as the boys' volleyball club captain and the object of affection of many of your female classmates. However, he was hardly the image of grace and elegance on the court at the moment, especially since his face was all red trying to contain his tears. He was just as startled as you were when he realised he wasn't alone in the room.

Your mother once said it was rude to stare at people who were crying, especially if they were trying to hide their tears, so you lowered your head and returned to your scribbling. The door was shut close and you thought he had left, but he walked to the corner of the room and sat still for a few minutes before finally speaking.

"Please don't tell anyone you saw me here."

You fished for something in your bag and approached him, getting down on your knees so you were face-to-face with him.

"My mother told me it's rude to ask people why they're crying, but I figured there's nothing to lose for the both of us since we're on our last leg of junior high. Whatever it is you're weeping about, I'm pretty sure you did your best," you told him before handing him a pack of pocket tissues. "You have nothing to worry about. We won't be seeing each other afterwards, anyway."

He chuckled at you before finally taking the tissues in your hand. "I guess you're right."

You were right for the most part since your paths rarely crossed after that single encounter. Your last days of junior high school went by smoothly and peacefully. The romance anthology you wrote as part of the Literature Club was warmly received by members and readers, one of whom was the graduated captain of the boys' volleyball club.

After the graduation day ceremony, Oikawa approached you outside the gymnasium with his signature megawatt smile, diploma and flowers in hand and his gakuran swept off all its golden buttons.

"Writer-chan!"

"It's actually Otome," you replied with your name as you turned to face him. "But not that it matters now. Congratulations."

"Of course it does! Congratulations as well!"

He gently snipped the button on the left sleeve of his gakuran and handed it to you. "Thank you, friend, for reaching out to me back then."

Friend, he said. You were practically strangers with a shared secret, but you indulged him, seeing as you won't be seeing him again, after all. You took the single button from his palm with a smile. "You're welcome, friend."

You likened him to the ocean's waves— refreshing, but always coming and going. Waves weren't meant to stay in one place for so long, so you saw no point in needlessly wading in the cool waters.

I don't want to drown, after all, you thought to yourself.

Oikawa had the most bewildered look on his face when you bumped into each other on your first week of senior high school at Aoba Johsai and you knew you looked just as surprised by the encounter.

"It's writer-chan!" He greeted you with his most pleasant smile. "And here I thought we'd never see each other again!"

He made it a point for the two of you to exchange contact details, saying something about how the gods of fate must definitely want you to have something to do with each other. A brooding figure approached from behind him, brows knotted as he pushed the taller boy who still had your cell phone in his hands. You recognised him as Oikawa's wing spiker from Kitagawa Daichi as well as his closest friend.

"The hell are you doing picking up girls in the middle of the hallway, Trashykawa?" Iwaizumi Hajime barked at him, prompting him to hand back your phone to you.

"I'm not picking her up, Iwa-chan! She's from Kitaichi! My friend from the Literature Club!" The taller brunet whined. "Don't mind him, Otome-chan. He probably woke up on the wrong side of the— Ow!"

"You can talk later. We're gonna be late for our tryouts," Iwaizumi stated before nudging him forward on his feet.

"We'll see you around, Otome-chan!" Oikawa waved back at you as they made their way to the school gymnasium. Iwaizumi managed a small nod at you before turning to reprimand the setter for holding them up.

Throughout your high school life, you couldn't count how many times you sharply dismissed the gossip surrounding your odd friendship with the boys' volleyball club setter, who rose to become the team captain in your third year. Oikawa's keen-eyed watchers found him occasionally dropping by the Literature Club for no apparent reason other than to talk to you. Those rumours were quickly shut down when he was spotted with a different girl in his arm— a classmate of yours, the kind of girl you'd want to do things for because of her charming face and personality. You didn't find it that surprising at all. In fact, they looked really good together.

You paid no mind to the fact that he was purposely ignoring you now whenever you passed by each other in the hallways. Not that you ever made the initiative to greet him first, but there were times when you looked at him rather expectantly and he would just avert his gaze. Iwaizumi told you that it wasn't just you Oikawa was avoiding, but basically the whole female student body. You realised that the whole thing was probably orchestrated by his girlfriend.

Typical. He's not one to do things half-heartedly, you thought to yourself. So once again, I'm not surprised.

When you met each other outside of school for the first time in such a long time, you learned to finally grow indifferent to him that you didn't even know what to say to him when he greeted you with one of his dazzling smiles. Oikawa perked up when he spotted you picking up your little sibling, who was one of his students at the local Lil'Tykes Volleyball classes he taught at during his downtime.

"It's Otome-chan!" He called out rather happily, but you coolly turned away and took your younger sibling's hand to make way for home. You heard him choke at your reaction. "O-Otome-chan! Are you ignoring me?!"

"Oh, are we on speaking terms again?" You asked him, pausing on your tracks and merely looking over your shoulder. "Or is it just because we aren't at school?"

Oikawa's young nephew Takeru had dragged your sibling away to practice more tosses with his own volleyball when he realised that his uncle would be held up in a conversation. The tall boy looked rather apologetic before raking a hand through his dark hair. "Ugh. I'm so sorry. I've been a real jerk to you, I know. But there's nothing to worry about now. I—"

"I think the last thing you need right now is a distraction, Oikawa-san," you replied to him, his expression changing once again as you called him by his last name and not how you usually did. "And your girlfriend did a pretty good job clearing your way. It's all right, though. I'm not even a threat to her and yet—"

"We broke up."

"…What?"

Long arms were crossed over his chest now, his immaculately white track jacket crinkling underneath the motion. "W-Well, of course, I won't admit to just anyone that she was the one who ended things because she didn't like how much time I spent playing volleyball. But she should've known that the sport was part of…"

You really didn't pay any more attention to his explanation, but the incredulous look on your face completely gave away your thoughts, because, fuck, the audacity of that bitch—

"I know I should've decided things for myself and I should've listened to Iwa-chan, Mattsun and Makki when they were pointing out all the red flags. Gosh, I still feel so awful about it. I didn't like having to avoid you when there was so much I wanted to talk to you about."

The two of you stood there in silence, the children's laughter and the cool morning breeze filling in the void after he had finished talking.

"Is…" You had grabbed fistfuls of your skirt that was fluttering in the wind, hands shaking as you tried to think of the right words to say. "Is that all?"

"Y-Yeah…" he replied rather uneasily as he saw your fists shuddering rather angrily. He took a step forward toward you and reached out for your balled fists, gently soothing them to loosen your grip before placing one of your palms over his chest rather dramatically. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. And I have to admit, seeing you look at me so indifferently hurts my heart!"

"Wh— Tooru-kun, stop!" You snatched your hand away from his warm grip only for him to pull you closer.

"You called me Tooru-kun! Ah, I'm so happy!" He beamed at you, gently letting you go and finally beckoning his nephew to join him. "Anyway, I won't hold you and your sibling up any longer. Let's talk after club! Bye-bye!"

True to his word, Oikawa arrived at the Literature Club room days later, his boisterous entrance startling you so much that it could only mean he did it on purpose.

"Drama just loves me, doesn't it?" He chuckled, taking a vacant seat to sit across from you like he always does whenever he comes to see you. "And do you never run out of things to write about, Otome-chan?"

"There's always something interesting happening around me," you replied, not even bothering to look up at him after he surprised you just moments ago. He had brought out his cell phone, mindlessly scrolling through his social media since he couldn't think of anything else to ask you. The quiet was finally broken when he placed his phone on your desk, most likely bored stiff and stifled by the silence of the whole club room.

"If we had dated instead, you wouldn't mind me spending most of my time training, isn't that right, Otome-chan?"

You were both shocked by the snapping of your mechanical pencil's lead against your notebook. His eyes widened as you looked up him, red-faced and rendered speechless. You were sure you looked like a fucking doe in the headlights, even more so when you saw his lips quiver to a small delighted smile.

"Wh-What?! D-Don't talk about that kind of stuff, Trashykawa!"

"Did you just hear yourself?! You sound just like Iwa-chan now!" The smile melted into a pout. "Is dating me such a bad idea for you? I'm so hurt, Otome-chan!"

"You should hear yourself! Spouting all this nonsense about d-dating…" you slid your notebook away from you and accidentally nudged his phone off the desk, which you both hurriedly tried to catch, your hands and fingers tangling midair as you caught the object. A sigh left your lips as you straightened your back. "You can let go of me now, Tooru-kun."

"Let me hold you for a bit, Otome-chan," he told you, scooting over much closer to where you sat. "May I?"

"Wait, what do you mean hold—"

Oikawa was six feet tall and surprisingly sturdy despite his elegant, slender appearance. He rested part of his weight on you when he pulled you into an embrace, long arms gently coiling around your waist.

"T-Tooru-kun?" You squeaked at him, slipping your arms under his to return his embrace. "Is everything all right?…"

"Is it unpleasant?" He asked you, his voice reverberating through your chest. You shook your head, your hair brushing against his cheek. "Good. Because I'd like to do this again."

When he finally pulled away, he laughed at your burning face so much that he almost fell off his seat. It took every bit of your energy to kick him out of the Literature Club room, his laughter ringing throughout the school's empty halls.

From then on, you became each other's warm bodies, but nothing more than that. Commitment was something you couldn't ask from each other, too, especially from him, who had a future in the game in the long run. You would be nothing but a distraction. In turn, he worked to make sure your anthologies were well-received by the student body.

Holding onto even the smallest sliver of hope was emotional suicide, but you can't count how many times you had to save yourself from drowning in the coldness of the deep blue sea that was Oikawa Tooru. You didn't even know if you were still breathing after that.

You couldn't help but find the whole thing nostalgic. The red-faced Oikawa finding you scribbling away in the Literature Club room in the wake of their loss to Shiratorizawa just mere months away from high school graduation. He had told you beforehand of his plans to migrate to South America following recommendations by the boys' volleyball club's elderly Coach Irihata and you had congratulated him for it.

Still in his club tracksuit, he made his way to where you were and wordlessly grabbed a seat, observing you in silence before finally speaking.

"I'm not coming back until I've finally become the player I want to be," he stated, sitting across you as you continued your writing. He changed his tone into a more playful one, the kind he used whenever he was teasing people. "Won't you feel even a bit sad that I'll be leaving, Otome-chan?"

The ocean waves once merely splashing at your feet had become a whole tidal wave and it threatened to drown you now.

You paused from your writing and looked up at him. "Shall we grab a drink?"

Most of the students had already left the campus at that time, so you had no trouble walking around school with him. The last thing you wanted was to be seen with him and have your entire relationship questioned when even you had no answers for yourself.

"I won't be sad when you leave, Tooru-kun," you told him, eyes on the setting sun as you sipped on your milk box. "You're pursuing your dreams and I am elated at the prospect of what kind of player you'll be in the future. The world is in your hands. You have only to grasp it now."

On your way back to the Literature Club room, he was chattering about his prospective successors to the volleyball club's captaincy. The two of you ended up leaning on the club window, figures drowned in the colours of dusk as your conversation slowly died out. You stood there in complete silence, a feeling of contentment washing over you as you turned to smile at him.

"I await the day I see you on the world's centre stage."

Oikawa smiled back at you tenderly— a small one he usually reserved for moments such as this. "And I await the day I finally get my hands on a real novel written by you."

"I'm not sure how we'll make that happen since you'll be moving far away," you replied with a chuckle. "I guess we'll figure something out when it's here."

"Thank you, dearest friend," he gave you a short bow, a hand on his chest as he met your gaze again once again. "Because of you, I never lost my heart."

You've seen different parts of him throughout the years you've been called his cherished friend, but you never really had a clue about what was going on in his head even as he laid his words bare. He leaned down and brushed a kiss on your cheek, surprised by the tears that fell from your eyes. You've both come to realise that your emotions betrayed your words and there was nothing you could do to take it back.

I swam too far from the shore, you told yourself that night. It's painful, but at least I know I'm alive.

When graduation day came once again, he had no golden button to give you, just a promise that he would keep in touch with you even as he left Japan. You barely had the chance to talk to him on that day since he was surrounded by his kouhais from the volleyball club, along with other wide-eyed admirers who were keen to get their final presents to him.

"Hey, Otome-chan! Get over here!" You heard him call out to you, beckoning you to come over to where he was. Iwaizumi was holding a mobile phone and was ready to do his best friend a favour. "We need a commemorative photo!"

That same photo sat at your desk in your little studio apartment for years to come.

Oikawa had kept his promise to you and his friends and kept in contact so frequently that you'd mistake him for having so much time in his hands. The calls were sparse, but the messages came nearly every day, even with a 12-hour time difference between the two of you.

When you told him about how you were unable to finish your college degree at Miyagi Gakuin Women's University after the vast collection of anthologies you wrote back in high school was discovered by a local publisher, he called you the soonest he could and asked how you felt.

"As long as you're doing what you love and pursuing what your heart's telling you," you recall him saying with a low voice, one you haven't heard in such a long time that it rendered you to tears. "I'll continue supporting you, Otome-chan. You have all of my support!"

The local publisher was so enamoured with your juvenile work that they asked you to write something completely new for them, assigning one of their best editors to you to keep you grounded as you worked. Somehow you couldn't quite point out if this was one great stroke of good luck or a damn honeytrap you can't walk away from anymore. Yes, you stopped college halfway to start writing novels, just like what you dreamed of before, writing alone in your high school club room. It was happening way too soon.

You were rarely asked to come by to the publishing house, but you were often in contact with your editor, whom you missed a call from since you were making coffee for yourself while working on a new story draft. The last one had just left your hands earlier this week and you didn't expect to hear anything about it for quite a while, so you called him back to confirm if everything was all right.

"Hello, Tatara-san. Is there something wrong?"

"Otome-san, I don't know what to say, to be honest. But, ah, anyway, now isn't the time to lose my composure. I have great news for you."

You nearly dropped your cup of coffee when you heard that your last draft would be published into a book. "Are you for real?!"

The poignant novel you slaved over for days and nights to years, Two Silver Moons, would be published by the end of the year, just in time for Christmas. You would have to be there during the whole process, but the publishing house guaranteed you a break afterwards, unexpectedly given but greatly welcomed. You thought of visiting your family in time for the new year, but you remembered that your parents were out on their own little cruise around the world.

The options you had were pretty close by until you received a reply from Oikawa, who was most likely in the middle of his club training.

[ O. Tooru-選手: I'm so happy for you, Otome-chan! Congratulations! (≧▽≦) ]

You never left Sendai for most of your life, but you took off at the first sign of a break, much to the chagrin of your editor, who helped you update your passport, book your flights and tickets, book the hotel where you would be staying and even mentally prepared you for the different kind of culture you'd experience. Two weeks was long enough, you recall him telling you. You both lamented the fact that you burned out nearly a quarter of what you earned from your first novel's publication for this little excursion of yours, but you figured it was something you could earn back with another book or two.

Your last message to Oikawa was back from the new year. Turning to your wristwatch, you estimated what time it would be in Argentina before determining that you'd receive a reply.

[ YN: Say, how long is a flight from Tokyo to San Juan? ]

[ O. Tooru-選手: You wouldn't want to know. ]

[ YN: But what if I do? ]

[ O. Tooru-選手: Otome-chan! Don't tell me you plan on coming here! (☉∀☉) ]

You laughed to yourself, pulling your luggage close to you as you stood in line at the Narita Airport boarding area, passport and boarding pass in the other hand.

[ YN: I'll see you soon, Tooru-kun. ]

[ O. Tooru-選手: Please, if you're just saying all of this, just stop. You're gonna disappoint me. (ᗒᗩᗕ) ]

[ YN: Have to check in my luggage. I'll message you when I'm in France. ]

[ O. Tooru-選手: Oh my gosh, Otome-chan! If I arrive at Ezeiza Airport and you're not there, you can forget that we're friends! ]

It was only when you got on the plane and had to sit for nearly 13 hours that you realised how far spread out the whole world really is. Sendai was but a speck of dust from your view above the clouds, but it will always be home to you. You brought out your tiny notepad and started scribbling about a flight situation you could incorporate in your next story as you passed the time.

The wait will be worth it, you convinced yourself. I've waited for so long to be able to swim in your presence again. What's another 34 hours in air?

There was a 7-hour layover which quickly passed by for you as you kept yourself engrossed in your writing. Something about Parisian coffee made your heart race a bit quicker than normal and it made all the wheels in your head turn non-stop until you realised you burned through nearly half of your notepad. You pocketed the coffee-stained paper napkins that held more of your writing and folded it neatly enough with shaking fingers to fit it on your tiny notepad. The last hour of the layover was spent freshening up and changing into a new blouse, as well as counting all the tiles your eyes could take in from where you sat. You decided against having coffee in Argentina because of the havoc it wrecked over your body.

[ O. Tooru-選手: Otome-chan, are you about to board your flight to here? Take care and don't forget to stretch around! ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ ]

[ YN: You sent a photo. ]

It was a blurry, crazy, hair-in-face kind of selfie that you usually reserved for your parents and siblings. If there was such a thing as coffee-drunk, it was definitely happening to you. You were glad the caffeine finally died out mid-flight and you spent the remaining seven hours asleep. You practically had no sense of time when you boarded off the plane from France, but your entire being was shaken awake when you spotted the tall setter with a little placard that had your name on it in his hands. Oikawa, who was in a bright red shirt and khaki chino shorts, broke into a smile when he spotted you.

"Yohoo! Otome-chan!"

"T—" You stammered, far too excited to meet his embrace that you ended up slipping face first across the Ezeiza Airport terminal, eliciting shocked gasps from onlookers and people passing by. It took you a solid minute to get up before grumbling to yourself. "Ahh, what the fuck, self?"

Oikawa laughed and everything felt better all of a sudden. He was down on his left knee to check if you were all right. "You seem fine."

"I am!" You told him, finally raising your eyes to meet his gaze. "I'm totally fine."

"Ah, that's good!" He stated, a hand on his chest as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, let's go! We have another plane to catch, don't we?"

"Ack! I didn't know that you had to fly here!" You exclaimed apologetically, finally getting up on your feet as he pulled you up with him. "I'll, uh, pay for your next flight! Or something!"

"Don't worry about me, Otome-chan! It's been a while since I've had a visitor here, so I'm rather thrilled! I've been granted a tiny break by my club since you've gone through lengths to see me. For now, let's get some of your yen changed into pesos."

He chuckled to himself as you both stood before the money changer, hearing him comment about how it's been so long since he last saw and held yen in his hands. He looked rather shocked at the amount you brought with you, not entirely sure if he should return the money to you. "Otome-chan! You brought way too much! Are you planning to buy the whole province of San Juan or something?"

"Tatara-san— My editor told me it was better to bring extra than to find myself short on funds," you turned to him, wringing your fingers in worry. "Maybe keep it for me for the meantime?"

"Gladly! Consider me your tour guide, body guard, accountant— what else?" He said thoughtfully, slipping the rolls of Argentine pesos in his tiny body bag before taking your hand in his. "The next time you make a trip like this, at least tell me beforehand. We can always meet halfway instead of you just coming all the way here to see me."

"But it was me who wanted to see you," you replied, looking up at him. He was searching for the Aerolineas Argentinas ticket office.

"All right, so we book same-day flights, two hours to Mendoza Airport, and finally catch a bus to the city. Pretty sure I didn't miss anything," he counted with his fingers. "If my estimates are correct, we'll arrive at around 18:00 to 18:30, just in time to grab some dinner. Or maybe you want some coffee?"

"No coffee," you waved your hand over your face. "Parisian coffee drove me nuts while I was in France. I'd like to be able to sleep later, please."

You were able to sleep during your two-hour flight, your slumber abruptly interrupted when the captain announced your descent to San Juan. Of course you apologised profusely for accidentally drooling on Oikawa's sleeve.

"Ugh. I didn't know you had to travel so far to pick me up from Buenos Aires. I'm so sorry, Tooru-k—"

"Hush now, Otome-chan," he presented your bus tickets to the conductor before pulling you up with him. "If you're really sorry, just promise me we'll have a lot of fun while you're here. And besides, what's a little travelling when I get to spend time with you?"

The five-hour-long bus ride passed by in a flash as Oikawa pointed at every significant landmark he could identify on the road, while you had your tiny notepad in your hands again to jot down shaky phrases, listening closely to how he pronounced the foreign names and words.

You felt like you were floating in the middle of a calm ocean, the afternoon sun beating over your skin as you let yourself be carried away by the waves.

He chose to have dinner at a little place called Soychu, which specialised in vegetarian meals. It was also near the hotel your editor booked for you. Oikawa, who considered this place his home for the last two years, seemed rather amused at the way your head whipped around at every curious sound you heard.

"San Juan isn't as colourful as Buenos Aires, but it has its own charms," he told you, placing a serving of provoleta on your plate. "We'll have a lot of time to explore tomorrow, so you should rest up after such a long flight."

And you were indeed charmed by the city's nightlife— jet lag quickly replaced by sensory overload as you tried to take in everything you laid your eyes on and everything you heard— lights reflecting from the restaurant windows, a cool evening breeze and the odd stranger greeting a friend in a language you had no idea about. Even the restaurant you were in captured your heart in a way you can't put in to words.

"Departamento en San Juan?" You read the booking made by your editor a few weeks back as you stood outside the apartment premises. "Is that right?"

"Yeah, this is it. Wait a moment, I'll confirm your booking," he said as he entered the premises to greet the receptionist. "¡Buenas noche! Mi querida reservo una cuarto…"

You honestly had no idea what he was telling the middle-aged receptionist who gave you a short glance before turning to her log book. His Spanish was really good and you were sure he wasn't selling you out to a murderer, at least, seeing how the lady smiled at you. She turned around to grab the keys to your lodging for the next two weeks and threw out something that sounded like a question. "¿Te quedaras tambien?"

Oikawa chuckled, understanding what it meant. He turned to you with a smile as he was handed the keys. "Ya veremos."

The cream-coloured apartment room had a single king-sized bed in the only bedroom, a wide kitchen space, a clean bathroom with a heated shower and a tiny balcony that overlooked the lighted cobblestone street they walked earlier.

"All right, everything looks good to me," he walked out of the bathroom, which was the last place he checked after making his rounds in the space you'll be living in for the next two weeks. "I'll leave you to rest and unpack, Otome-chan. The Wi-fi password is on the refrigerator. And don't you worry about your money because I won't go running away with it! Message me tomorrow, all right?"

He was just about to take his leave, hand already on the door when you stopped him midway, gently pulling at the hem of his red shirt. "T-Tooru-kun, wait a moment. I… I, uh…"

The words didn't come out easily. You weren't just about ready to part ways with him just yet and you needed to let him know.

"Otome," he started, dropping the honorific from your name for the first time. He raised his hand and brushed cool knuckles over your warm cheek before finally tipping your chin so your eyes would meet. "I don't quite understand what it is you're trying to tell me."

He was teasing you.

I want to drown, your mind screamed at you. I want to drown in you.

"I'm… not really that ready to let you go. I, uh… C-Can you stay here? Just for tonight, i-if it's all right. I just—"

He caught your quivering lips in his as he leaned down to kiss you and you felt all of your resolve crumble so easily just as you did in his arms. You threw your arms around his neck and willed yourself not to shed a single tear now. There was no clumsy fumbling out of your clothes as you were swept away to the bedroom, only the rapid thumping of your heart against his chest and his warm hands all over you— touching you so softly, gently, kindly— making you cry even though you swore to yourself that you wouldn't.

"Don't cry, Otome," he breathed over you, brushing a kiss on your cheek as he coiled his arms around you. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't—" You raised your hands to cup his face, softly grazing your thumb over his lips. "…Don't apologise now."

He obliged and saved the apologies for tomorrow or another day. Now wasn't the time for any of that at all. Not when you've waited for him to hold you like this for so long.

You have nothing to be sorry for, Tooru. I wanted to swim so I dove in.

If there was one thing you were sure about, it was already morning. The light from your window said so, at least. You blinked away your bleary vision and tried to move, only to find an arm draped over your figure. Your back. Wait, am I naked? Don't tell me we—

A head of tousled dark hair was asleep beside you, the morning sun beating on his naked and toned back.

Oikawa Tooru.

He groaned in his sleep before moving closer and pulling you in his arms, your cheek gently colliding with his chest, the steady beating of his heart enough to pacify your thoughts. It didn't take long for him to stir and finally awaken, planting a tender kiss on the crown of your head.

"Look at you," he stated, eyes disappearing as he beamed at you. "You've grown much lovelier. Can't believe it took me this long to tell you."

"Good morning, Tooru," you smiled back at him, warm hands on his face. You brushed away the hair stuck on his forehead.

"Oh, right! Now that we're here, would you please do me the favour?"

You sat up with him, stretching your arms while he reached for his tiny body bag on the bedside table right next to him. He pulled out a copy of Two Silver Moons and handed it to you.

"You—" your fingers curled around the book, flipping through the pages in complete disbelief. "How?…"

"Come now! Did you really think I'd miss out on the golden opportunity of grabbing a copy of your first novel?" He waved a hand, an obviously pleased smile on his face. "I pulled a few strings here and there, but it's the real deal, isn't it? Will you sign it for me?"

"Tooru, I—" To both your surprise, you still had more tears to cry. "Y-You really went out of your way for this. You really care this much—"

"Why on earth would I not care about you, Otome?" He stated, moving in to kiss your forehead. "You're so precious to me."

He could sense the apprehension you were feeling and he couldn't blame you for it. The two of you danced around each other's feelings even since you were both young, neither having an idea of what the other truly was to them. He had an answer to that now.

"There's a thing they call people like us," he said, taking one of your hands in his. "We are lovers, are we not?"

Lovers.

Oh, the word felt absolutely foreign to you before because you had absolutely no idea what you were. It sounded so much pleasant to you both now. You smiled at him and his knotted brows disappeared.

"Yes, I believe we are."

"Ah, that's a relief. I thought you wouldn't agree with me," he sighed, obviously relieved by your reply. "So where do you want to go today, querida? What are you writing about? We can go to the Leoncito Astronomical Complex. Or the Museo Provincial de Bellas Artes Franklin Rawson. There's also the San Guillermo National Park. Ischigualasto Provincial Park. I can go on and on, you know."

"You lead the way, leaderman," you said with a chuckle as you reached for a pen on the bedside table. You jotted down a message on the front page of his book.

'To Oikawa Tooru-senshu. Thank you for your love and support! Likewise, you will always have mine. I love you. ♡'

Regardless of the time and distance you've spent apart, you find yourselves gravitating back towards each other, hearts bound by an unseen force you both finally had the right word for.

The conversation Tooru had with the lady receptionist went pretty much like this:

T: Good evening! My darling (could also be dear, dearest) reserved a room... R: Will you stay too? T: *laughs* We'll see.

Author's Notes: This is from my older haikyuu series Dreams of Fire Trees and Silver Moons on AO3. I suddenly remembered this fic and how dramatic it was when I saw this on X. Oikawa is truly one of the prettiest boys in hq and you can quote me on that lol.

#songsofadelaidewrites💛 #mari's archive 🌴 #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you

[hqbaby]

nineteen — no idea

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.7k content. swearing, sex mentions, some angst, some fluff

You can’t seem to focus at all.

Maybe it’s the professor and the way she talks really slow. Maybe it’s Iwaizumi doodling dinosaurs into your notebook right beside you. Maybe it’s Yukawa (is that his name? You’re not quite sure) sitting right behind you, still trying to get the nerve to ask for your number. Fuck, maybe it’s the wind. Who knows?

Nothing is getting past your skull today. You groan, realizing you’ll have to go through all the material again later just to understand it.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi asks. He opens a pack of marshmallows and puts it on the table in front of the two of you.

“Yeah,” you tell him, sticking one in your mouth. “I’m fine.”

You know you should stop talking, that there’s no reason for you to continue, but your mouth has a mind of its own—

“I’m dating Atsumu.”

Your friend blinks at you. “You’re… what?”

You purse your lips. Oh, you realize, that’s why I can’t focus.

“Yeah,” you say again. “He’s kinda my… boyfriend.”

Iwaizumi stays quiet, popping two—no, five marshmallows into his mouth and very slowly chewing them. When they dissolve on his tongue, he eats another five.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you tell him.

He shakes his head, mouth still full. “Just let me process.”

When the professor dismisses the class, he’s still stuck in his seat, stuffing his mouth with marshmallows.

“Iwa.”

He holds a finger up. “Wait.”

You slump into your seat beside him, waiting for him to plow through the whole bag.

“Y/N?”

Yukawa.

You glance over your shoulder and find the boy looking at you shyly. “Yeah?”

“Right so I was wondering,” he says, clearing his throat, “do you wanna go grab some coffee with me?”

Iwaizumi cuts you off before you can even open your mouth. “She’s taken!”

Yukawa’s eyes grow wide. “Oh! Shit, okay.”

“She’s dating Atsumu,” your friend continues. “Miya Atsumu. Don’t wanna cross him, man.”

The memory of that day at the cafeteria seems to flash in the boy’s mind.

“Fuck, right, sorry!” he exclaims, quickly gathering his things. He bows at you quickly. “Really sorry. Bye.”

You gape at Iwaizumi. “What the fuck was that?”

He shrugs. “I’ve processed,” he says. He picks up his bag and walks out of the classroom, leaving you to rush after him.

“So?” you ask when you’ve caught up. The two of you are in the hall now, on your way to the coffee shop you’d promised to meet Oikawa at. “What do you think?”

“About?”

You elbow him. “Atsumu, dumbass.”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to say something. Then closes it. Then opens it again. Then closes it. Then, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

You get to the coffee shop and find your best friend already smiling and waving you over. You swallow the lump in your throat. You’re gonna have to tell him too.

Oikawa urges you into the seat beside him. “Took you long enough.”

“It’s Iwa’s fault,” you say automatically.

“Oh?” Iwaizumi raises his brow, sitting down across the table. “You sure about that?”

You wince when you realize he has the ammo here, not you. “No, it’s my fault.”

Oikawa puts his face in his hands and flutters his eyelashes at you. “Do tell.”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

He squints. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” you say. “Nothing bad at least.”

Your best friend crosses his arms and frowns at you. It’s like he’s trying to read your mind and, honestly, you haven’t been able to prove that he can’t.

“Tell me,” he says.

“It’s not a big deal,” you insist. “I’m just, you know… dating Atsumu now.”

“Like for real?”

“Yeah.”

“Like you’re his girlfriend?”

“Uh-uh.”

“He’s your boyfriend?”

You narrow your eyes. “Tooru.”

He throws his hands up. “I’m just checking!” he says. “Wasn’t sure if you meant it the way I thought you did.”

“What do you think I meant?” you ask, tilting your head as a bewildered expression takes over your features.

“I don’t know!” Oikawa exclaims. “You kids have weird ways of labeling relationships.”

“I’m literally older than you.”

He shrugs, smirking as he sips his coffee. “I’ve been in a relationship longer than you.”

You scoff. “Well, I’m gonna be better at it than you.”

“As if.”

You look over at Iwaizumi. “Iwa, remind me again about how Tooru was late for your anniversary dinner.”

The boy smiles, much to Oikawa’s dismay. “Yeah, he still kinda owes me for that.”

“I said I was sorry!”

Suna stretches himself out on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television. There really isn’t much to watch nowadays. “Why do you guys even have cable?”

Osamu grunts, shifting in his seat. “How am I supposed to know?”

“For the news,” Atsumu supplies, scrolling through his phone on the floor. “At least that’s what Ma says. She pays for it anyway.”

Kita walks into the room with Aran on his heels. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

“Atsumu has something to tell us,” Suna says, lazily hanging his head off the side of the couch. “But he’s being awfully quiet.”

The blond hushes him. “Just gotta wait.”

“For what? Pigs to fly?”

“Shhh!”

“My theory is he forgot what he was gonna say,” Osamu says as Kita and Aran pile onto the couch beside him. “He’s just too embarrassed to admit he forgot.”

“Ya guys are—”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Aha!” Atsumu exclaims, jumping onto his feet and bolting for the door. “Yer gonna eat yer words.”

He unlocks the door and opens it up to find you standing there, a nervous smile on your face as you poke your head in to see the others.

“Hi,” you say, removing your shoes and sliding into a pair of slippers they keep by the door.

“Told ya!” Atsumu says, slinging his arm around you and walking you over to the others. “It’s Y/N!”

“We know it’s Y/N,” Osamu deadpans. He looks over at you and grins. “Hi, Y/N, whatcha doin’ here?”

Your eyes flit over to Suna. He’s looking at you, his expression a mix of worry and confusion. He hasn’t seen you since the party, since the you called things off between the two of you.

You try to look away.

“Oh, you know,” you start, nudging Atsumu, “he has something to say.”

“Right!” He perks up. “Everyone, this is Y/N—my girlfriend.”

The room is a little hard to read. Osamu is clearly amused, Aran is a little concerned, Kita is somewhere between the two, and Suna is, well… not entirely there.

“Well, we kinda saw it coming,” Kita says eventually. “Right, boys?”

Osamu starts cackling. “Yeah, man. This isn’t the news ya think it is.”

Atsumu huffs. “How ‘bout be happy for me for once!”

“Good luck?” Aran offers you as Atsumu starts chasing Osamu around the house, trying to tackle him. “I mean, ya know what yer gettin’ into, right?”

You watch as your boyfriend chases his brother into the bathroom. “I guess I do.”

It doesn’t take long for them to settle down and start ordering dinner, Kita busy making sure everyone gets the right food and Aran heading out to get some ice. The twins get into an argument about whose turn it is to wash the dishes, leaving you and Suna in the living room.

“So,” you say, trying to clear the tension. “This isn’t weird, right?”

He looks at you blankly. “Why would it be weird?”

You let out an awkward chuckle. “Right. Why would it be weird?”

“Yeah. It isn’t.”

“I was gonna tell you—”

“You didn’t have to,” he says. His voice seems far away, like he’s speaking to you through a wall. “I’m happy for you. For both of you.”

He gets up from the couch and goes out to the balcony, leaving you there with a sick feeling growing in your stomach. You stare at your feet, overwhelmed by a sense of guilt and anger.

You don’t owe him anything.

It wasn’t anything.

It was just sex.

“Ya know, just ‘cause yer together now, doesn’t mean ya can just fuck on the couch,” Osamu says when he walks into the living room later that night.

Atsumu frowns, looking at the whole couch’s worth of space between the two of you. “We’re not even touching though.”

“Just sayin’,” his brother says, giving you both the evil eye, “I’ll know.”

You look up from the book you're reading as he makes his way to his bedroom. “Night, ‘Samu!”

“Night, Y/N,” he says, opening his door.

“How ‘bout me?” Atsumu demands, glancing between you and his brother. “Don’t I get a ‘good night’?”

“Did ya say ‘good night’ to me?”

“No.”

Osamu gives his brother a disappointed look before stepping into his room and closing the door behind him.

“Oh, we are so fuckin’ on the couch tonight.”

You let out a laugh. “Kinda tired, babe.”

Atsumu smirks, inching closer to you. “‘S’okay,” he says. “I can do all the work.”

“Such a horndog,” you giggle, lightly pushing his head away.

He sighs, letting his head fall in your lap. “Can I kiss ya at least?” he asks. “Tell ‘Samu we made out on the couch?”

You roll your eyes. “Just one kiss.”

He grins. “I’ll take it.”

Closing your eyes, you lean down and catch his lips in a gentle kiss. The angle is a little awkward and the contact is sloppy, but you don’t mind it. You can taste the mint of his toothpaste and smell the cologne he’s wearing.

Everything about him is just Atsumu, all that he is. Wonderful and terrible enough to make your heart beat out of your chest.

You pull back and find him smiling at you from ear to ear.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say back.

“How do ya feel ‘bout all this?”

“Honestly?” You bite your lip. “It feels right.”

He nods, taking your land in his and placing a light kiss on the back of it. “I think so too,” he tells you. “Feels exactly the way it’s supposed to.”

You use your other hand to play with his hair, still damp from his shower. “I really like you, ‘Tsumu.”

He leans into your touch. “I really like ya too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you say, smiling down at him.

“Oh, ya have no idea, sweetheart.”

notes. how’s everyone doing :D

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

[rewh0re]

─ LITTLE GESTURES OF LOVE

Where the hq boys show the love they hold for you through little gestures that mean the world.

Ft. Miya Osamu, Semi Eita, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Suna Rintarou, Oikawa Tooru

OSAMU will always pack an extra lunch along with him. You've told him several times that he doesn't need to but he never listens. He'll keep up this ritual even when he's running late for work. Osamu also cooks breakfast for the both of you almost everyday. If you rush out of the house without breakfast, he will take it upon himself to deliver your breakfast and lunch at work. Although that does not happen much because Miya Osamu makes sure that you are well fed before leaving for work. Sometimes, he'll also arrange fancy dinners at home or at fancy restaurants through his connections. He makes sure they're always romantic.

SEMI dedicates some of his songs to you. He also makes songs which are for your ears only and are not shared with the world. It's like a little thing between you both that no one else knows about. Semi sings to you when you're tired and need rest or when you can't sleep at night. If you're sad or feeling down, he'll pick up his guitar and sing your favorite song which he memorized by heart. You sometimes join him in singing and suddenly your apartment is filled with two pretty voices. Semi feels complete during these moments.

USHIJIMA brings flowers for you from a little garden that he planted. Some days he brings roses, the other days it's tulips and sometimes it's a bouquet of daisies. He mixes up flowers now and then and you keep them as long as you can. You love how he gets the flowers from his garden instead of a flower shop and his flowers are always the best in your opinion. He's not a very poetic person but he'll try his best to attach a small note to the flowers sometimes. The notes don't contain the language of poets but you love them anyway.

SUNA takes pictures and frames the best ones to decorate the house. He'll take a picture of almost every special moment, sometimes even moments that are insignificant to you. He'll then proceed to talk to you about said picture. If he takes a silly picture of you, he'll tease you but it's all good natured. He knows where to draw the line between teasing and making you feel unworthy. Sometimes he'll take a picture of you to the games in which you're unable to come. He says it's for good luck. Sometimes he'll recall the story behind the pictures he took from your dates or from parties you both went to and from the games he won.

OIKAWA sends you little souvenirs from Argentina and other places he goes to for tours and games with little notes. He'll then video call you at a time convenient for the both of you and smile in a lovesick way when you yap about how he should stop sending gifts. They'll remind you of me. He says every time and changes the topic like a child by blocking his ears and saying la la la. He'll indulge in activities with you through facetime like skincare or cooking and playing several games. The notes attached to the gifts always have something flirty written on them.

Reblogs + feedbacks are highly appreciated!!

#hq #haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu fluff #semi x reader #semi eita #semi fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima fluff #suna x reader #suna rintarou #suna fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa fluff #hq osamu #hq semi #hq suna #hq ushijima #hq oikawa #hq x you #hq x y/n #hq headcanons #─storytelling🌙

[pfpanimes]

⌕ haikyū!! - oikawa tooru.

like or reblog if you save/use.

#haikyuu #haikyuu icons #haikyuu layout #haikyuu layouts #haikyuu!! #haikyuu packs #oikawa #oikawa icons #oikawa tooru #oikawa layouts #oikawa haikyuu #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #manga icons #anime icons #anime layouts #twitter layouts #animes layouts #manga layouts #anime packs #anime icon

[elizadrafts]

the last voicemail

timeskip!oikawa x gn!reader

warnings: all hurt no comfort, mentions on engagement, iwaizumi mentioned???, not proofread

wc: 532

synopsis: after a rough fight with oikawa, you’ve been staying at a friends house for the time being. while you’re unable to sleep, you find yourself listening to a voicemail from an unknown number.

a/n: this is my first fic ! please be respectful when giving me criticisms !! had to edit due to copy errors…forgot the whole first paragraph oops

rest under the cut !

it had been about four weeks since you and oikawa got in the worst fight you’ve ever experienced. doors were slammed, voices were raised, and rings were thrown. your hand had felt bare without the beautiful silver ring that oikawa gifted to you, a promise of his never ending love. none of it felt real, you wished it were a horrid nightmare, that you could roll over and see oikawa’s sleeping figure.

you’ve been staying at your friends apartment for the time being, quick to pack your bags and get out of the house where the fight ensued. it was radio silence from tooru, no calls or texts of any sort. it slightly worried you, but you figured he had moved on already. he had hundreds of fans that were waiting for him, waiting for *you* to mess up. and you did.

tossing and turning in bed, you found yourself sleepless one night, something felt off. you weren’t late for work, it was still dark outside, there couldn’t have been a problem with a loved one, you had lost the one only who lived in the area. finally reaching for your phone, you saw the notification of a voice message from a number you couldn’t recognize, you couldn’t even recognize the area code.

“hey y/n… it’s quite early there.”

frozen, you took a moment to process oikawas voice on the other end. his breathes were short, it was like he had just played a whole volleyball match, a core memory from your high school years.

“it’s been a while since we talked...i wish i could’ve seen you before i left. i never even got to tell you the news.”

racking your brain, you couldn’t remember what he was looking forward to..did he get into a top university? had he landed a good job?

“i left last week, to argentina. made it onto their national team. crazy right? i remember spending nights talking about this to you.”

he forced out a laugh, it was clear he didn’t know how to tell you. hearing this shattered your heart, you remember how you planned to be there to celebrate the moment with him. you planned to go to the airport with him, wish him farewell. you planned to travel the world by his side, supporting him through every up and down.

“i still have your ring. maybe it’ll bring me good luck. make sure iwaizumi’s okay for me, he’ll work himself to death without someone watching.”

another forced laugh, it felt as if he was hiding who he truly was. it was a pain that couldn’t be soothed. you’ve truly lost tooru, there was no apology that could bring you two back to how you were.

“one day let’s meet again y/n.”

the voicemail ended with a satisfying beep. feeling tears well up in your eyes, you realized this was all too real. desperately trying to call him back, everything went straight to voicemail. you couldn’t send one, you needed to genuinely talk to him. this wasn’t how you wanted to end, but the universe doesn’t things for a reason, hopefully.

you’ll remain watching him on the big screens, cheering for him on the side.

#haikyuu x reader #timeskip haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa angst #haikyuu angst #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #haikyuu x you #angst #oikawa

[apteryxparvus]

Love, found in the simplest of gestures.

Characters — Oikawa Tooru, Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma, Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu

Word count — 912

Content warning — none

Summary — the Haikyuu!! boys and their love languages.

💕 Oikawa Tooru — words of affirmation

Tooru is the epitome of affection — he never misses a chance to show his love and care for you. Each day starts with a good morning text in which he declares his undying love, always accompanied by a blurry yet endearing selfie. Throughout the day, he showers you with little messages of encouragement, wishing you good luck, and ensuring you feel his presence even in your busiest moments. And whenever he manages to squeeze in some extra moments during his packed schedule, he takes the opportunity to send you lengthy voice messages, expressing how much you mean to him, and how grateful he is to have you in his life.

Despite his busy days, he always manages to find a way to let you know you’re always on his mind.

Whenever he graces your apartment with his presence, there’s always a trail of colorful sticky notes following his wake — from the fridge door and bathroom mirror, to the hidden nooks of your kitchen pantry and beneath your pillow. Each note contains a heartfelt message, a testament of his affection.

And as you accidentally stumble across these surprises, a blush spreads across your cheeks, your heart stirring.

💕 Bokuto Koutarou — physical touch

Koutarou has always had an inclination towards affection, even before you became an official couple. Yes, his touchy nature extends to teammates and friends, but with you, it has always been different.

When he embraces you, wrapping his strong arms around, a warm, comforting aura would envelop you. Even before the two of you became a couple, you couldn’t help but notice how his touch would linger, how he’d hold you more intensely, just a tad bit longer.

Now that you are together, you eagerly anticipate his touch, his tender gestures. His touches demonstrate his depth of love — whether it be by a gentle caress of your arms and neck as you prepare breakfast in the morning, or his offer of a soothing back rub and shoulder massage after a long day of work.

💕 Kozume Kenma — gift giving

Kenma loves to give you presents. Even in his days as a high school student with limited pocket money, he would surprise you with thoughtful gifts. He’d meticulously plan affordable dates, all revolving around your shared interests, hoping to create meaningful and lasting memories.

Now, with his thriving career(s) and increased financial stability, he takes pleasure in spoiling you even more. But rather than opting for generic luxury gifts — gold necklaces and ruby earrings — he continues to channel his thoughtfulness into personalized adventures. From romantic getaway weekends to nearby hot spring towns, where you can both unwind and enjoy each other’s company, to day trips to amusement parks, VIP access included and unlimited rides that would send your adrenaline soaring.

But it’s the little gifts that truly warm your heart. Such as the newest book from your favorite author, complete with their signature, or a carefully crafted scrapbook filled with cherished photos and memorabilia.

💕 Suna Rintaro — quality time

Time spent with Rintaro is precious, every moment is a treasure. You know how demanding his volleyball career is, yet he goes above and beyond to carve out as much time as possible to be with you.

Sometimes, it means embarking on intricately planned dates (oftentimes, with the help of his teammates). And in those moments, it’s just the two of you, savoring each blissful moment of peace, reveling in each other’s presence like there’s no tomorrow. Other times, you find yourself casually joining the half dozen spectators during his team’s practice sessions. Seated on the bench, you witness his display of talent and dedication to the sport.

Amidst the whirlpool of your busy lives, there are simple moments when you and Rintaro unwind after a grueling week filled with an endless stream of demanding clients (for you) and arduous training matches (for him). In those stolen moments, you find solace in each other's presence, and as the day draws to a close, you find yourself nestled close in a tender embrace while watching TikTok videos on his phone.

Despite everything, Rintaro ensures that every moment you spent together is filled with love and quality time.

💕 Miya Osamu — acts of service

Osamu’s genuine love and care manifests through the bento boxes he so lovingly assembles for you. Your little tradition began during your high school days, when, as the volleyball team’s manager and the representative of your class, you juggled a busy schedule. You’d attend the team’s practice with a rumbling stomach and an embarrassed face — you barely had time to prepare lunch, let alone queue up at the cafeteria in hopes of grabbing a sandwich or a curry. Osamu was quick to warm up to you, and within a week of you joining the team, he began bringing you lunches.

He was quick to learn your preferences, despite the few hiccups — like accidentally making something you were allergic to (more than once). Nevertheless, to this day, years later, he rises a bit earlier than you to prepare a colorful bento box. On occasion — once or twice a month — you return from a tiring day at work, met with a delicious and fragrant dinner at a candlelit table.

Sure, the majority of Osamu’s week is occupied by his culinary job, and of course, witnessing the smiles of satisfaction on his customers’ faces brings him joy. But seeing the way your face lights up and the twinkle in your eyes as you savor the meal he so carefully prepared… there’s nothing more precious than that.

Author's note: hiii, im back from the dead... for now... until university starts:))) hopefully i'll have some time to write a chapter or two of my smau

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa imagine #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto imagine #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma imagine #suna x reader #suna x you #suna imagine #osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu imagine #haikyuu drabbles

[epilary]

lake day with the haikyuu captains | headcanons

masterlist | requests are open

daichi sawamura - he loves throwing you into the water - 'help me out of the water' [you] - 'fine- AHH' [daichi] - you pull him in too - lots of splashing and play fighting - daichi can't help but watch the sun's reflection in your eyes - he even brought some lunch for you - little egg sandwiches and onigiri - it was delicious - like he's no chef but it was AMAZING - plus a good way to spend some time out of water - if you're together he'll definitely give you sloppy kisses - hands on your cheeks as your legs wrap around his waist - if not, he'll pine after you every time he sees your smile - especially when you're jumping off near a waterfall

tetsuro kuroo - he packed water guns - like extreme, slightly dangerous water guns - didn't even tell you - waited until you were already in the water to get you - 'suro, i'm going to get you' [you] - it is incredibly hard to move through the water - he is laughing his ass off until you finally get out - 'oh shit oh shit oh shit' [kuroo] - running as fast as he can - and when you grab the spare one? it's over - the two of you run and hide around the lake trying to get one another - until you're both looking back and run into each other - you collide, you falling on top of me - 'wow, i'm so strongly attracted to you that scientists will have to discover a fifth fundamental force' [kuroo] - 'you're so ridiculous' [you] - he's got you giggling and shit though

tooru oikawa - kayaKING!! - had a couple that he brought with so that you could go around on the lake - he likes to use the paddle to fling water at you - and push himself so your kayaks are side by side - 'would it be ridiculous if i paddle one side and you paddle the other??' [you] - 'not at all, let's do it!' [oikawa] - it absolutely fails - but it leaves both of you laughing your asses off - you eventually push him in - when you least expect it he swims under you and flips your kayak - 'i can't believe you!' [you] - 'you started it!' [oikawa] - 'that's only cause your hair looks amazing wet' [you] - 'and you look amazing when your hands are running through it' [oikawa] - literally almost knocked you out

wakatoshi ushijima - likes relaxing with you - probably reading a book or looking up volleyball techniques - made all the stops to make you comfortable - fresh towels, fruits - he even has a speaker that plays all of your favorite songs - at some point you'll find yourself right beside him, his arm under your head - 'thanks for such a relaxing day' [you] - 'yeah of course, anything for you' [ushijima] - yeah it's got you blushing - he's super kind and gentle the whole trip - just letting you enjoy your time together - if you're dating, he'd probably give you lots of forehead kisses

kotaro bokuto - cannonballs!!! - he loves them and he convinces you to too - brought snorkels since you couldn't reach the beach - still lots of plants and animals to see - you even find some snails that the two of you just sit together and watch - he'll try to scare you until it horrible backfires - 'you scared me shitless!' [you] - 'i'm so sorry! i was just trying to spook you' [bokuto] - but you'll get him back when you tickle his foot with some moss - he goes running - only returning to splash you with his best cannonball - he'd for sure take this as his chance for a first kiss - especially after everyone convinces him you like him - (of course only after he impresses you by blowing bubbles through his snorkel)

#daichi sawamura #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru #ushijima wakatoshi #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu #headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #daichi sawamura x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader

[notrebs]

haikyu boys when you overwork yourself

volleyball player!reader

characters included: kageyama, oikawa, suna

kageyama tobio:

i feel like as someone who works super hard at his sport he’d totally get it

but he’d still be concerned

like if you were working yourself to the point where you’re exhausted to death after training and can barely keep a convo from tiredness

so you’d be waking up at the crack of dawn before the nationals season

then you’d barely have energy to talk to him cause you’re so tired

and he notices this continues for a while

one day he walks in to your school gymnasium looking for you and sees you practicing jump serves

and there are like hundreds of balls on the other side of the court indicating how much you’ve practised

and he sees you sweaty as shit, shorts riding up, thighs literally shaking from the amount of jumping you’ve done

he finds it kinda hot though

he’s still worried about you because you actually look EXHAUSTED beyond reasonable

so he’s had enough of his gf being stressed over nationals and low on energy and with sore muscles all over but still training hardcore

as i said he’d totally get it bc he does that too but seeing it on his precious volleyball playing girl just hits different

so while you’re on your tenth serve (since he got there), he strolls over to you and calls out

“oi, stop overexerting yourself. your body’s not gonna make it to nationals if you keep pushing it too much. and i don’t like seeing you so stressed and low on energy.”

but then without waiting for you to respond, he grabs your wrist and drags you to your gym bag

helps you pack up and carries the bag for you

then holds your hand and pulls you out of the gym amidst your protests

“you’re not training anymore today. relax. have a good dinner. you haven’t done that in a while.”

then he brings you to your fav yakitori place

when you’re there, you order your favourite rice or noodle dish, and you both share a shit ton of meat

tobio lectures you over dinner over how you’re overworking yourself

but he also shows he cares a lot he’s so cute

“hey. you’re an amazing player. don’t stress and overwork yourself unnecessarily. i love you so take care of yourself.”

then he insists on paying for both of you

THEN he brings you for some absolutely banger dessert

you go home and he runs a hot bath for you, then massages your aching muscles

i feel like his skilled setter hands give good massages for some reason

anyway he literally releases all the tension in your muscles

and then cuddles you to sleep and makes sure you don’t get up at an ungodly hour to train again the next morning

overall super caring and concerned for you

oikawa tooru:

remember how i said kageyama completely empathises with you overworking yourself

yeah well oikawa gets it even more

but he definitely sees that you’re overworked and he gets concerned

i think he’d actually help you in training though

so for the fifth evening that week (it’s friday), you’re staying back till what must be eleven practicing with your teammate

said teammate is just tossing the ball for you to practise setting

oikawa gets upset when his precious sugar angel honey pie (sorry but that’s such an oikawa way of thinking) isn’t home in his arms to sleep

so he gets up and goes to your school gym to look for you

you’ve been there every day that week, he’s just had enough now that you didn’t even come home at his sleeping time

so there you are on your god knows how many-eth set and he bursts through the door

when he sees you doing some setting, he feels his setter passion and also his “she’s my gf i love her” passion and goes to help you

he corrects your form and all that

oh and he dismissed your said teammate the moment he got there lol

but after 5 minutes of helping you out he brings out the lecture

“babe, you’re working too hard. i know you’re worried for nationals but rest is necessary. you haven’t had a proper dinner at all this week, think i didn’t know?”

you respond to him, “but i have a proper lunch before training! and—“

“and nothing. you’re overworked. you’re not sleeping enough either, but you’re still training this much. 5 more minutes and we’re going home.”

when you get home he’s literally pampering you

ran you a bath and had food delivered while you were soaking in there

fed you in bed, then cuddled you

trains with you the next day (saturday) so he can regulate how much strain you put on your body and make sure you stop before it gets too intense

also because he loves you and wants so spend time with you lol

brings you for a lunch date and makes you have an afternoon nap with him

suna rintaro:

you’ve been working super hard for the tournament

there’s like a month till the season starts

your team has been having endless friendly games where you’d play like ten sets

but your team mates would actually ask for bench time when their muscles ache and throat tightens because they don’t want to over exhaust themselves

but you and your passion makes you stubbornly stay on for all ten sets

and your coach advises you against it but no way you’re gonna listen

and you’ve been overworking yourself since long before that days match btw

suna’s been missing having you as his dinner date but you’ve been insisting on staying late for practice

he keeps telling you not to overwork yourself but you keep telling him you aren’t

on a sunday, he asks you out for a cafe date, but you decline because you’ve got a practice match scheduled

despite thinking you’re wayyy too exhausted, he knows how much practice matches mean to you for your experience, so he lets you go without any protests

but halfway through the fifth set, as you’re trying to save a ball, you have an off landing

and you hear a nasty ass crack in your ankle

you convince yourself it’s just a small twist and it’ll wear off once you stand up and get moving, but you find yourself unable to get off the floor due to the pain

against all your protests, the coach orders you off the court and gets your teammate to help ice and elevate your ankle

after some examining, it’s determined that it’s a minor sprain, nothing too serious that’ll keep you from playing at the tournament

but coach still tells you to stay away from training or any exercise requiring you on your feet for the next week or so

and you’re sososososo pissed about that because what passionate girlie is okay with missing training??

so you’re sobbing angry tears as you watch your team from the sidelines

because you’re frustrated with yourself

“like, just stick the landing and don’t be on the bench right now, it’s not that hard??”

doesn’t help that you’re an ace player and not used to the bench feeling

after training, your team mates offer to walk you home to support you and your sprained and aching ankle, but you decline

cause you know who the one person who can make you feel better is

so you sit on the gym floor, dialling your fav number to dial

“rintaro?”

“sup, babe? your practice over?”

“yeah, about that…”

suna picks up on the disappointment in your tone and knows smt didn’t go right

you tell him how you sprained your ankle and can’t exactly walk properly and how you declined your team mates offers to walk you home cause you know he’s the one whose presence would make you feel better

so he’s up and going (to your gymnasium)

when he gets there, he sees you on the floor with your foot propped up

you look downcast, so he calls out to you as he walks in and squats next to you

“told ya you’re overworking yourself. ankle sprains are a stress injury, you know.”

you grunt as he goes to pick up your duffel bag and slings it over his shoulder

then, he holds his hand out to you, and you pull yourself up, standing on your good foot

he sees your struggle to stand, and sighs

then, without warning, he just picks you up so that you’re hanging over his shoulder, just like your duffel bag

“what the hell, rin.”

“you can barely walk. and we’re going to the cafe i was going to bring you to. take it as some relaxation. and a make up date for all the time you’ve been away from me. also, you better not overwork yourself and try to train through your injury.”

it kinda takes away from the loving moment since you’re hanging over his shoulder like a dead fish, but you can tell he cares

and it’s sweet, though you know he’s gonna have some kinda told you so recording soon

#haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #reader insert #kageyama imagines #kageyama #kageyama headcanons #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio #suna rintaro imagine #suna rinatro #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyu imagines #suna x you #suna x reader #suna rintaro fic #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa torū #oikawa imagine #oikawa headcanons #suna headcanons #suna rintaro drabbles #drabbles #oikawa fluff #kageyama fluff #sports anime #overworked #injury #hq tobio

[gaygentbrontosaurus]

what Haikyuu characters smell like

…. because i’m sick of the sandalwood - vanilla bullshit, they're all in high school, they all smell like Axe or sweat

Hinata Shouyou

doesn't shower, but probably still has baby sweat so he doesn't stink

Kageyama Tobio

smells like Nivea cream. Very clean, very nice but also big baby vibes

Tsukishima Kei

showers with what his mom packed him so probably some organic oat-scented shit

Yamaguchi Tadashi

actually cares about his products and smells nice for a teenager but nobody notices

Ennoshita Chikara

Axe. Because everyone is using it, not because he thinks it's cool.

Nishinoya Yuu

doesn't shower. Also Axe.

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

showers sometimes, but only when his sister says that he stinks. Axe.

Azumane Asahi

one of the only people that actually smell attractive. definitely had an Axe phase in middle school tho. 

Sugawara Koushi

the only one on the team with a fresh shirt every practice, smells like fresh laundry

Sawamura Daichi

dad smell, like 3 in 1 hair, body, face and working in the garage

Iwaizumi Hajime

responsible adult, has a nice cologne and doesn't use too much of it, just enough. buys body wash in bulk because it’s cheaper and more convenient.

Oikawa Tooru

smells like everything. has a nice (in his opinion) perfume, strongly scented floral body wash, citrusy shampoo and coconut body butter. he is living his best life but everyone has to deal with his smell that enters the room before he does.

Matsukawa Issei & Hanamaki Takahiro

bought Axe and “manly man” body wash for shits and giggles and “ironically” use them. but in the end they still smell like Axe. also yes they bought one of each and share everything.

Yahaba Shigeru

easily impressed by Oikawa, also experiments with different smells but thankfully he’s more subtle with it

Kyoutani Kentarou

Axe.

Terushima Yuuji

Axe.

Aone Takanobu

nice, subtle scent, smells cozy.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

soap is soap, so also Axe.

Tendou Satori

either washes with just water or has a very specific and complicated hair care routine. there is no inbetween. smells like sandalwood and no one knows why.

Shirabu Kenjirou

Axe.

Daishou Suguru

you would think he’s edgy and different, but deep down we all know he uses Axe.

Miya Atsumu

Axe. He is THE prime Axe user. if someone thinks it's cool and manly it's Miya Atsumu.

Miya Osamu

Axe. but one of the milder ones

Suna Rintarou

doesn’t care. Axe.

Haiba Lev

stole his dads fancy cologne, which would be nice and all if he didn’t shower with a chocolate-scented body wash.

Kozume Kenma

long haired gamer. doesn’t shower. probably borrows deodorant from someone on the team because he didn’t pack any and doesn’t care how he smells. so Axe.

Yamamoto Taketora

doesn’t shower. Axe.

Kuroo Tetsurou

token “manly highschooler smell”. overuses Calvin Klein cologne. but shower gel? Axe. ironically watches the alpha male self care routines but secretly notes the shit down.

Yaku Morisuke

buys his products in those mom shops, all his products smell nice like lavender, jasmine or cotton and are vegan, clean and non-gmo.

Akaashi Keiji

takes care of himself. uses basic products, but has a separate product for everything, doesn’t believe in the 3 in 1 (actually uses a conditioner and face wash). smells like he showers regularly so the rest of the team is greatly impressed.

Bokuto Koutarou

Axe. douses himself with the deodorant. definitely had a tutti frutti phase in the past 2 years.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

rubbing alcohol, uses only hypoallergenic, non-scented products.

Yachi Hitoka

bought a strawberry-scented soap because it looked really cute. doesn’t like the scent at all but still uses it because she is anxious to tell her mom to get her a new one.

Shimizu Kiyoko

smells very feminine, uses fancier brands with floral smells.

Ukai Keishin

cigarettes. bought cologne to impress women but rarely uses it.

Takeda Ittetsu

laundry detergent. always has clean clothes and changes often.

#haikyuu!! #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #ennoshita chikara #nishinoya yuu #tanaka ryuunosuke #azumane asahi #sugawara koushi #sawamura daichi #yahaba shigeru #kyoutani kentarou #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #matsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #terushima yuuji #aone takanobu #ushijima wakatoshi #tendou satori #shirabu kenjirou #daishou suguru #miya atsumu #miya osamu #suna rintarou #haiba lev #kozume kenma #yamamoto taketora #kuroo tetsurou