#oikawa tooru x y/n | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysterystarz · 9 days

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kiss me maybe:

summary: finding a flier for the volleyball's kissing booth was surprising for two reasons. a) kuroo had created one of the worst fliers known to mankind and b) oikawa tooru, the school's resident pretty boy was capitalizing off the rumors surrounding him. still, you couldn't deny your attraction to the setter, and he couldn't hide that you were the only one he wanted to kiss

pairing: oikawa tooru x g!n reader

word count: 12.6k (please give this a chance)

genres + themes: college!au, sort of friends to lovers(?), fluff, angst, kuroo being an occasional menace, iwaizumi being the sexiest friend you can have, kiyoko being an icon, romanticized college experience, oikawa being an idiot but yours

warnings: cursing, a tad suggestive in some parts, absolutely not proofread

a/n: hi there i am back with a long fic. anyways this thing is my lovechild and probs the most fanfic thing ive written. its really just a fluff monster (lol) and i hope you give this a chance <3 also dedicated to @chimielie because her stuff gave me the inspo to write ily lia thank you for being so talented

It was said that Oikawa Tooru’s kisses were mythical.

Some claimed that one press of lips from the kingly setter was like a hit of a drug, sudden in a way that sent you reeling.

To some, his kisses tasted like the finest candy, hand served on an ornate dish.

Most magically, it was claimed that a kiss from Oikawa Tooru could heal even the most broken of hearts. Just one thread through sun bronzed hair could make you forget about the most painful memories.

And of course, like any celebrity would, he knew about each and every rumor.

Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room. It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography.

Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!)

“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression.

Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury.

“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”

“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.”

You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment.

Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction.

For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works.

“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place.

“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”

“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.”

“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”

“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision.

There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer.

“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.” “Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you.

“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?” “No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle.

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm.

“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.”

Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”

“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke.

“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.”

You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.”

The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze.

However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.

Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be. Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down.

Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat.

The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place.

“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.”

“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.” “Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?”

“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door.

The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.”

The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation.

“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?” “A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually.

“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!”

With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name.

Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing.

A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.

Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice.

“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.” “I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits.

Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door.

“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.

“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you.

The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big.

“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.” You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere.

“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad.

“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.”

“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed.

“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.”

“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.”

“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”

“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”

You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you.

You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in.

“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!”

You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too.

The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks.

When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime.

“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?”

“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.”

For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake.

Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash.

In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on.

“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.”

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.”

Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable.

A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside.

Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake.

This sucked ass.

You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along.

Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering, you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when.

The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake.

You could almost call it picturesque.

You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed.

The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you.

They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk.

“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte.

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did. “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.”

“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.”

“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.”

Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again.

His presence had a way of putting you at ease.

The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.

The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you.

High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much.

You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings.

What could be more human than that?

Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent.

“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.”

What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?

“What did they do to you?”

“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations.

Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better.

You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space.

Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness.

When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours.

Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out.

A grand gym and an even grander boy.

You just avoided him after that.

“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit.

To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.

“Yeah, water under the bridge.”

“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”

“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation.

“Well-“

“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”

“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.”

His eyes lit up. “You mean it?”

You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you.

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards.

“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.”

You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping.

“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”

Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion.

Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?”

“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”

“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.”

“We always love the extra coverage.”

“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”

“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was.

“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.”

“Not true.” He huffed.

“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.”

People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager.

Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with.

“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.”

Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.”

He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?”

Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.”

“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”

“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.”

As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.

Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.

You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too.

As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean.

Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends.

You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky.

How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset.

“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings.

And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition.

“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it.

“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.”

“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit.

“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?”

“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.”

“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open.

You weren’t sure what to say.

A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.

“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret.

“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.

For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine.

You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.

Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity.

Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru.

Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face.

“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression.

“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.”

Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees.

You sat down, gesturing for him to join you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.”

“It’s been here…?”

Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.”

You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?”

“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.”

“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.”

“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.”

“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.”

“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.”

“Iwaizumi says otherwise.”

“Mean. But seriously, why?”

You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless.

“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him.

Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin.

“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.”

“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over.

“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.”

You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually.

“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to.

“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.”

“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.”

With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face.

The way he looked at you now was like worship.

“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think.

“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?”

Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours.

Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips.

Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt.

You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you.

The way he held you was reverent.

When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much.

You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.

Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots.

Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up.

He didn’t kiss and tell after all.

“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.”

“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could.

“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.”

“Am I not allowed to have good days?”

“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?”

“With my sets, yes.”

“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.”

Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking.

Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight.

It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him.

Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could.

The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through.

The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride.

“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning.

“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?”

You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.”

Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life.

The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).

The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.

The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness.

The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness.

“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!”

“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.”

Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you.

Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through.

You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.”

Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?”

Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.”

”That is a great idea,” you chimed in.

“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully).

”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.”

The team went silent. “You have a what?!”

The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously.

“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.”

You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”

You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together.

“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.”

“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.”

“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.”

Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?”

You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her.

Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty.

She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur.

“When?”

“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you.

“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly.

“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.”

“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing.

“Shush.”

The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house.

She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.”

You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did.

“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.”

“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold.

“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.”

“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?”

“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.”

He was planning on not headlining the booth?

Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest.

Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like.

“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out.

“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.”

Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.

When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing.

That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag.

“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever).

You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth.

“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.”

“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside.

“Wow. How did you know about the name?”

“I have my sources,” you winked.

Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.”

“So you do know.”

“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.”

You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you.

“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.”

“We don’t have to right now.”

“Thanks Tooru.”

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.”

You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?”

Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.”

You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes.

“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance.

“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”

You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.”

“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“

“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.”

You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.”

You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.”

Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty.

Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.

When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively.

He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response.

”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.”

Correction: something was horrifically wrong.

“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.

“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.”

Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to.

However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment.

“Were you guys dating?”

“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”

“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?”

You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet.

“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!” You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.”

At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.”

“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.” Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.”

The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant.

Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus.

You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled.

Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame.

“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been.

“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.”

“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?”

“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.” “The team matters.” “The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.”

“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?”

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.”

You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room.

“Je suis fâché.”

“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?” “J’aime sortir avec mes amis.”

“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?”

“Je ne veux pas continuer.”

“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again.

He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now.

“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move.

He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air.

Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth.

“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?”

Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.”

“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.”

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.”

He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.” The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you.

He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you.

When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours.

Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this.

“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”

You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid.

Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall.

Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point.

Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him).

“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.”

“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.” “But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up.

“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.”

“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react.

You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it.

“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.”

You nodded.

“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance. I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.”

“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?”

You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad.

“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?”

Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling.

“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.”

You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile.

You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?”

“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.

As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today.

Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign.

The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually.

He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths.

“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop.

“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!”

Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!”

He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands.

He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations.

The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.

To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit).

“This is pretty amazing, huh?”

Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.”

“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?”

Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound

that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.”

Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.”

The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?”

“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure.

“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”

“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.”

Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool.

Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week.

Maybe today would be okay after all.

You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you.

Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself.

Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.

Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa?

You weren’t sure.

The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass.

Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit.

“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.”

“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”

Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money.

He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”

You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.”

Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.”

You snickered. “Not a chance.”

Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.

“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.”

“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row.

The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later.

Soon enough, you were at the front of the line.

“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?” “Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?”

“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.”

You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”

Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in.

For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands.

The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene.

You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today.

You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range.

This was intriguing.

“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding.

“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!”

“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?” “Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.”

In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye.

“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!” The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?” You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.

“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!” “Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.”

“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand.

“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them. Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated. “Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!” In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable.

Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line.

“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?” You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.” You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line.

“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered.

“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?”

“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.”

The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra.

“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.”

“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand.

“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple.

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.” You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress.

“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.” “He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said.

“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.”

Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him. “Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.” “We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins.

He really had meant everything. You needed to see him.

When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss.

You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late? At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you.

You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them.

You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was.

Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands.

“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.” You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.” Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession.

It felt better than both of those things. When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections.

“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe.

“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.

if you got this far, thank you for reading <3!!

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lujingheswife · 6 months

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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

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kairiscorner · 6 months

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❝stop, you're losing me.❞ — oikawa tooru x gn!reader (angst)

🎧 song inspo: you're losing me. – taylor swift

✒️ word count: 1,492

🍞 genre: angst.

💗 special mention to: @xoxo-cha for introducing me to the song ! (gave me so many ideas that day UHEUHEUHEUEEUHUEHE LABYU)

you used to think you were important to him, that you mattered just a little more than ordinary people to him–that you mattered to him, period.

but you never once felt that you were anything more than a chore for tooru to finish, that he actually felt happy to see you after school before or after practice, and walking home with you–not even looking at you and mindlessly answering with a nod or a shake of his head. he was always in his own head, in his own world.

he was always hard working, only taking mondays off, but still setting in a court in his mind. he wasn't always with you, no matter how close to you he was–he was always in his own little world, and he could never help it. to you, tooru was worlds apart from you; but you could never tell him that, you couldn't even find the words or the voice to speak it out to him, let alone the courage to back up your thoughts. hours of tooru not seeing you was bearable, you understood he couldn't always come to see you, he was the genius setter and captain of seijoh's volleyball team, of course he had more urgent matters to attend to.

that's fine.

you could handle a few more hours without him, you kind of needed space, too. could never have too much of it, right? well, hours turned to days; it had been three days since you last spoke to tooru. all your texts to him went ignored, you were always too shy to call–he always initiated them, until the calls stopped coming when the team began to practice for the inter high preliminaries.

that's fine.

you did have some homework you needed to catch up on, a big test next week, you had to focus. in all honesty, you were mich more like tooru than either of you would like to admit–you were much calmer and quieter than him. you hated standing out, you preferred staying out of the spotlight. you did have a tendency to want to prove you were worth something, that you mattered–but you never went out of your way to go beyond.

you stuck right where you belonged, in your league, because after falling for tooru, you realized that you didn't need to feel special in others' eyes, you just wanted to be special in his eyes. but that was where you and tooru were different.

tooru was always hungry for success, to be better, to be at the top and to prove to everyone he is just as good, no, that he's better than everyone claims he is. and he's terrifying when he gets stuck in that state of mind. it shouldn't matter too much... should it? after all, he was only seijoh's pride and joy, one of the big reasons why seijoh is a formidable force to be dealt with–of course it shouldn't matter what you think, just who were you to meddle with his success?

...well you were his partner. you were his true, number one fan. you were his lover.

you weren't just somebody to him... right?

well if you weren't just somebody to him, then why doesn't he bother to call you at least once in the weeks that passed by? not even apologizing for missing your texts? not even exchanging glances with you anymore when you two cross paths in the hallway?

it's like you went from strangers, to lovers, to back to being strangers.

it's hard loving a stranger, because you don't know if you were ever in love with them to begin with, because that past when you two were lovers felt so far away... it didn't feel real, it didn't feel familiar anymore.

your friends tried to tell you he wasn't worth it, that he couldn't love anyone but himself—but they were far from right; tooru oikawa has never known a day where he truly loves himself. if he did, he wouldn't need to stay up countless hours at dawn, watching and rewatching matches of his opponents to come up with a plan in his mind on how to win against them, and he'd do it over, and over, and over again. he tortures himself, and you can't understand how he can't see that it's hurting him, how it's hurting you.

do you even know you're hurting?

you decided one day, after school, you would confront him and tell him everything you were feeling—even if you had no idea what kinds of feelings those knots in your stomach were whenever you thought about him and how much he's changed since you last spoke with him. you couldn't even remember the events that led up to you asking him to see you outside of the gym, all you could remember was your mind screaming at you, "don't you dare cry" as he approached you with an obviously bothered expression. his eyebrows were furrowed so slightly, in an attempt to hide his frustration, you believe—he sharply breathed in and out, throwing the ball to his teammate as he said briefly he'd be back in a few, he just has some stuff to take care of. yeah, some stuff.

the full conversation was a blur, words coming in and out of your ear, words flying out of your mouth; his eyes saying so much when he himself says so little. you could remember, at least, how you couldn't believe how little, yet so much, self-awareness the boy in front of you had. he knew he lacked in some areas in volleyball, as a captain, as a player—but he never seemed to realize what he lacked as your boyfriend. you wished you slapped him into reality then, maybe you did, and that's why your clearest memory of that day was him with reddened cheeks and a flushed nose; with his eyes threatening to erupt into tears, his lips quivering as he tried biting back his urge to scream, to yell, to cry. he was losing. he was losing you.

"love, i... i don't understa—" "i know you don't."

is this really you speaking? are those words coming out of your mouth? since when did you learn how to act so... cold? maybe this was the effect of tooru leaving you buried in the snow of his own icy neglect. and the worst part was... he can't take you like this. he doesn't recognize you in this cold blizzard raging between you two. there are storms in your eyes, a dark glare looms over your face that once stared back at him with nothing but sunshine and warmth. he said, over and over, that he loves you, that he has no idea why you're acting so cruel—whatever it is, he'll make up for it; he promises.

how could he say that he loves someone who he can't tell is dying?

he gets on his knees, he doesn't care anymore if the team sees him groveling at your feet, begging for you not to leave him—because you are the reason tooru keeps going, at least, that's what he says. he cries a little louder, clinging on to your hands, your hands that have gone cold and have felt calloused. does he not realize that you... aren't affected by his little act anymore?

"do something, babe, say something."

"tooru... stop it, this is embarrassing, even for you..." you plead with him softly, trying to hide his crying figure so he can save face. he shakes his head and cries against the end of your shirt, hoping that in his cries, you'll hear him out. but why should you listen? why should you offer him a listening ear, when he never bothered to listen if your heart still had a pulse for him?

"lose something, babe, risk something."

"i can't... go on without you... please, l-let's try again! i'll take you on... on those dates i promised! i-i'm just a little set back, i'll make you happy, happier than you've ever been, because i love you!"

"choose something, babe, i got nothing to believe—"

"stop." you whisper, and tooru pauses his whimpering and sniffling, looking up at you as he anxiously anticipates what you had to say. he fears it's the last thing you'll ever tell him before you turn your back on him and disappear into the frigid cold, never to speak to him or acknowledge him, never to love him again.

you take in a ragged breath, and a silver lining comes out of the gray clouds that curtain your once bright and loving eyes that lookedupon him with so much love, patience, and devotion—now looking like that of sad pity.

"unless you're choosin' me."

"...you're losing me, tooru."

and that... was the last thing you said to him; not even a 'good bye', or an 'i wish you the best'—because he could achieve the best, he could train that much if he wanted—but he'll never have the best you's anymore, he'll never, ever have you again.

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eggyrocks · 4 days

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part fourteen: cardinal sins

m.list

fun facts

yn at the very least did not throw up over iwaizumi while he was carrying her home

the entire time iwaizumi was carrying her back he was on the phone with kageyama being like "yes i am bringing my FRIEND to THEIR HOUSE nothing weird is going on!" so no one around him would look at him, carrying and extremely drunk person home and get the wrong idea

but in the end he probably would've just made it worse accidentally

this one is not fun but osamu and yn haven't talked in a few days, she stopped texting first and so did he :)

noya, tsukki and yams were at home watching 13 going on 30

tsukki called him a date crashed and told him to get his own partner

noya threw popcorn at him

yn called out of work sick aka made yams go in and work her shift; she called it revenge for when he got food poisoning and she had to work alone

album playing in the coffee shop today: the record by boygenuis

taglist: @wyrcan @rieieieieieiei @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @garden-of-bri @shotenvinsoot @sugartits123 @awktwurtle @randomidk-123 @hikikaimar @rinaheartss @hypnoticmistake @eyes-ofhell @noodleswastaken @nnnyxie @hermaeusmorax @rasisarchive @lees-chaotic-brain @sabar7 @marzzn @phoenix-eclipses @causenessus @potatogaryy @ilychee08 @yxcntruu @cotton-eee @minnniee @sleepy-time @cannibalsrider @k8nicole @qualitygiantshoepsychic @ekeio @bae-ashlynn @macchiatomegumi @r0seandth0rns @astereim @rebirthbunbun @glitch-karma @ganyours @bookworm-center @kindlyemely @pinksilk

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piichuu · 4 months

Text

♡ CHILDISH BUILDS - OIKAWA TOORU

WARNINGS: not proofread, fluff, gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 471

DECEMBER DRABBLES

after a few days of snowing, it has finally made its place in the grass, most likely staying there for at least a week due to the cold temperature.

“baby! i have an idea,” your boyfriend speaks as he jumps onto the couch and wraps his arms around you. the two of you have been cuddling and watching movies all day, but the last hour, he’s been walking around the house to try and keep himself occupied. “why don’t we build a snowman? please.”

you brush a hand through his hair and smile softly. “okay, we can do that,” your boyfriend kisses your cheek and reflects your smile with one of his own. “let’s go!”

he grabs your hand and pulls you into the hallway where you quickly put a jacket and gloves on. oikawa’s inner child comes out when getting to do things like these, things he would only get to do with you. “come on, you’re too slow,” he mumbles as you sip your jacket and roll your eyes.

“i’m trying to hurry, tooru,” you speak before intertwining your fingers with his and allowing him to take you outside the house.

the cold hits you in an instant and oikawa flashes you a sweet smile, squeezing your hands. “not too cold?” he asks and you shake your head, walking with him towards all the snow to start making a snowman. “okay, maybe you can make the lower part and i’ll make the middle?”

you nod and begin to gather snow into a giant snowball. oikawa is a little quicker than you and as he watches you try your best to make the lower part of the snowman, he puts some of the white powder in his hands and makes it into a ball, throwing it towards you.

at the feeling of cold touching your neck, you snap your head towards him and widen your eyes. oikawa puts his hands up innocently and looks around. “what? i didn’t do anything,” he speaks and you roll your eyes, turning your head back to continue with the snowman.

after doing the part you were assigned to do, you get some snow in your hand and throw it at your boyfriend who has now occupied himself with making the head. “hey!”

he doesn’t even get anything else out before you tackle him to the ground and shove snow in his face. he tries to push you away but ends up giggling and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck so the snow will get to you as well.

oikawa holds you close in his arms and rolls over so he’s on top of you instead. “you got me,” he mumbles and leans down to kiss your cheek. “you’re such a child, tooru.” “i know, but it’s all because of you, baby.”

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if you want to join the tag list, fill out this form <333

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kurolumiis · 4 months

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𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐄

featuring — oikawa tooru, y/l/n y/n

summary — you snatch a kiss under the mistletoe with a guy who didn’t make it to nationals.

warnings — oikawa x y/n, gn!reader, reader is iwaizumi’s cousin, dedicated to @silverflqmes <33, fluff, kisses under the mistletoe, possibly ooc oikawa (he’s a bit flirty and confident, also i haven’t seen hq in ages so i apologize)

it was lively party your cousin hajime invited you to. people were scattered around, either dancing to christmas music or eating the snacks left out for guests.

meanwhile, you slumped in your seat on the sofa. iwaizumi had been dancing with the girl he had complicated feelings for. as for oikawa, you didn’t know where he was, probably stuffing his face with as many sweets as possible.

finally getting up, you decided to go find at least one of your friends or grab something to drink. as you made your way through the room, you entered the kitchen, seeing a group of college students taking shots.

you paid no mind and headed to grab a cup of hot chocolate. when exiting the kitchen, you nearly stumbled into someone. “oh i’m so sorry.”

you apologized then looked up at the person. it was oikawa. “not a problem, y/n-chan!” he told you. “how have you been?” you asked, feeling a bit flustered under his gaze.

you’ve had the biggest crush on oikawa for ages, ever since high school. he’s taken note how many times he’s flustered you, remembering your cute face at night before he falls asleep.

the two of you drifted into a conversation, standing on opposite sides of the large doorway to not get in people’s way.

“uh, i don’t know if you guys realized, but you’ve been standing under a mistletoe for about twenty minutes now,” a voice said, standing beside the two of you.

“mistletoe?” you questioned, looking up. sure enough, there was a mistletoe hanging right above you. “oh,” you said, suddenly becoming flustered. what would oikawa think? would he leave in disgust or just ignore it? or…

“well well, it seems we’ve gotten ourselves into a predicament, y/n-chan,” oikawa cooed, smirking. “i guess a quick kiss wouldn’t hurt. anything for my adoring fans,” he said, leaning down.

oh my god, it was finally happening. your lips pressed against his. it was meant to last a few seconds but turned into about 30. it was filled with love and admiration, something he’d be more than happy to give to you.

finally pulling away, you caught your breath. “oikawa—” “shh shh shh, you’ll ruin the moment.” he combed his fingers through your hair, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.

“get a room!” iwaizumi scoffed. you turned to your cousin and huffed. he had a stern look and crossed his arms. although, his eyes held a bit of softness, happy his cousin and friend finally got together.

diorlumx productions, 2023

#—galactic.works #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa #oikawa torū #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa tooru fluff #oikawa tooru x you

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blucassiopeia · 10 months

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Dangerous

"A prelude spin-off for an upcoming fic"

warnings: afab!reader, angst with comfort but not the one you expect, bit of NSFW but nothing explicit still, be responsible of what you're reading, mentions of pregnancy, 8.3k LONG, spanish and portuguese languages (translated)

An Oikawa Tooru x reader one shot

a/n: uhmm, more clues? be wary of the details?

A new country is scary for Oikawa Tooru. Yeah, sure, this is one step closer to his dream but he has left a ginormous part of him back in Japan. His life is there. She is there. She, whom he left for his dream so hastily, a dream he chose and will always choose over anything and anyone. And he's guilty.

But she smiled and let me go, he thought as he stared into the ceiling of his new room of 2 days. He figured he wasn't much as important as someone else that it was easy for her to agree on this. Why wouldn't she? Who was he to her to hold onto anyway?

She'll be fine without me. I'm gonna be fine. Everything will be fine.

Tooru continuously convinced himself as he sorted out the last boxes onto his apartment. It's still dusty, he decided to clean up after moving his things to their places. He declined Coach Blanco's help on this, don't wanna bother him more than his bothersome favor of letting him join the Argentinean League even though he's still processing his citizenship.

He met the team he'll be playing the day before, figured they were nice and was excited about a Japanese setter on their team, a fresh talent for the upcoming league. And Ushijima Wakatoshi and Kageyama Tobio aren't here, how extravagant.

The neighborhood was nice, the people more so. It's lovely and lively, even at nights. The culture was shocking but it's to be expected. Though, he'd still prefer Miyagi's countryside air over this bustling city life in the other side of the world. His heart was there. Homesickness still hasn't settled in hard, but it will be after a punch so hard it'll wake him up for what he had left but can't go back to.

"Someone's waiting for you across your street. At a bistro of sorts? I don't know but you'll know when you see them, Kawa."

It was a week after he moved to Argentina, and here is Hajime calling him. He thought his bestfriend will be checking up on him like his first day here, he unconsciously pouted out of habit.

"Who is it?"

"Just go and face them, you shitty mess."

Dejectively, he said "I'm not shitty, Iwa-chan.", pulling out his sweatpants and sweater ready for a chilly night outside.

He wondered who was it that's waiting for him. He has wild guesses, first was of course, Hajime. And, or maybe Issei and Maki. Or maybeー

His lazy paces turned excited as he thought of her waiting for him somewhere near, somewhere he can finally reach. Did she made up her mind on the offer? But what about her life in Japan? But, is she really here? That can be possible right?

The lights were dancing on Tooru's face as he ran from bistro to bistro in his street to find her, thrill showing in his face. He didn't even notice he was grinning already, a sincere grin he didn't flash publicly for over three weeks. He was expecting to see her.

He felt his knuckles tighten as he saw them though, one smirking, standing up, and one just lounging, seriously staring back at him. He shouldn't have expected for her, he should've expected for the worst, this worst. His grin turned devilish, the usual one he flashes when he's agitated over a play, the one he erased from his face whenever he's with her.

And you saw that face shift of Tooru's, frame by frame.

You knew him. Who wouldn't? Except for the fact that he's your neighbor next door, he's the only new blood around the area and the single ladies working for your family's bistro are instantly swooning over this new foreign specimen. Messy chocolate brown hair with chocolate brown eyes to match, that panty-dropping smile and voice, his outgoing personalityーto which you're not comfortable with, you don't know whyーand his skills for volleyball. You saw him once early morning at an outdoor volleyball court just off the block and figured he might be joining the province's volleyball league club so soon.

And this face shift now was new to you, evident too for having some of the ladies having eyes on this particular scene.

The two guys that ordered nothing but a tall glass of iced tea and fries has been at the same spot in the bistro for roughly three hours, speaking in a foreign language you know is Japanese, considering you heard Tooru once talking over the phone. You assumed that they're here for him, and you were right. But not this kind of right. You slowly detached yourself from behind the counter, taking off your apron.

And Tooru has just his eyes on the man standing and smirking at him. It has been over a year since Tooru last saw him, after he made an honest mistakeーwell, it's not really this man's mistake but Tooru thinks he had been toying with her feelings, one he really disliked of him up to this day. And of how the way the man is smirking at him right now, Tooru knows it's his turn to be misunderstood.

"It's been a while, man. 'Sup?" Tooru said so casually, walking up to their table at the side of the bistro.

The man scratched his brows and looked down, but Tooru knows he's seething. He smirked before hearing a "Yeah, it's been a while Tooru."

And Tooru felt it in his cheek, on his hip clashing to one of the empty table beside him, hard. This man has been playing volleyball for as long as him, it's not to doubt that he can throw a punch this hard too as much as he could spike, he can taste something metallic inside his cheeks, a sting on his lip. But Tooru just scoffed and grinned as usual, retaining his balance and stood face to face with him, dangerously close.

"HEY!"

If Tooru heard you, he didn't react, raging eyes focused on the man infront of him. But the other man seated between them turned his head to you, gray eyes dead contrasting the boyish grin he flashed and said, "Sorry. This is how we greet each other in our place. Don't call the cops. They will talk with each other nowー" and he turned to the two with a cold voice, "ーin a civilized manner, right?"

The man who punched Tooru groaned at what the gray-eyed man said and heeded, sat, pointed the seat in front of him, gesturing Tooru to sit there. That was when Tooru caught your eyes, deadpan and emotionless. He sighed, wiping blood off his mouth, seethed at the sting off his lip and sat down in front of his two visitors.

You walked back to your kitchen and got ice cubes, almost on instinct on your part. You came back out to their table with a glass of water and the ice cubes.

"Estás bien, Tooru?" But Tooru just shot his brows up without looking up and ran his fingers on the cold feeling of the compression sack of ice cubes.

Tooru's mind was hazy from the avalanche of presence in front of him and for the possible reasons why they are here, why they spared time and money to just deliver a punch from across the globe. He felt your eyes linger a bit more before sighing and leave. One thing was clear in his mind that moment, though. He wished someone to drag him out of that place.

"Why are you both here?"

"To ask you why THE FUCK d'you leave her like that."

He expected that question, and he knew the answer too well. It's just dumb to ask that to him, and the one who asked is just too dumb to ask without knowing himself that he's the answer. Tooru can't help but smirk. The slight scrunch on his lips sent miniscule shots of pain from the punch earlier.

Tooru can't believe they travelled to where he is just to ask that, personally. Well, maybe it was the punch that motivated them. And Tooru needed that, too, given what he had left.

"Can't believe you picked volleyball over her! AND you promised me! YOU PROMISED ME TOORU! FUCK!" Together with the raise of his voice, the table wobbled at his smacks on it, earning a groan from the other next to him, reflexively lifting the glasses of iced teas off the table in time.

"Hey! Not the iced teas! I'm gonna kick you!"

Tooru dead-stared at the man glaring at him and he flashed his evil grin at him, super annoyed of his cluelessness of the situation.

"You think if I picked her, she'll also pick me? No. She'll still pick you over anyone else." He stopped grinning, still dead staring, his following words are on a lower octave, menacing. "And you fucking know that."

"I love her and fuck, I want her to be happy even if you can't believe it. And if she's gonna be happy with you, thenー" Tooru spread his arms wide, his expression changing to melancholic. "ーI'm gonna welcome that fact with open arms."

The other man scoffed at his seat, still eating the fries he ordered. "You don't destroy the people you love, Tooru." The other man side-eyed the man beside him. "That goes for you, too."

"But you promised me." It was a mumble now, taking Tooru back 4 months ago when this man in front of him purposely meet and talked with him about Ran. "You promised to be with her until I come back."

"Not all people can take it. If this person right here with you can take it, I can't. There's just so much pain I can take if it's her."

"She's pregnant."

Tooru's eyes were slow to meet the man's eyes, his expression looked like he got pulled down a few meters more than it sank before. It was for a moment, but you saw it from the counter. Your eyes flickered curiosity and worry.

Tooru smiled sincerely to the men's surprise. "Then, go home. Be with her. She needs you. And congratulations.. on being a dad."

The man who Tooru declared a dad suddenly stood up, knocking his chair back, grabbed Tooru's collar with him and close to him, stared into his sad eyes. The man beside them groaned, but not at the collar-grabbing scene now but on what Tooru said.

"Fuck. You." The man sincerely spouted those words to Tooru's now smirking face. "FUCK YOU!"

But Tooru ignored him and turned to the man who's drinking his glass of iced tea from the tension. "'Samu, don't waste time. He had already wasted so much of it. Drag him back to Ran."

And he thankfully got a nice response as Osamu stood up and slap the man's hands off of Tooru's collar, "Let's go back to Japan."

"OSAMUー"

"I KNOW! I FUCKING KNOW! BUT I HAVE ALREADY TOLERATED YOU TOO FUCKING LONG! NOW DROP TOORU OFF!" Osamu breathed heavy, staring back at the still-aggravated man. The tension of the bistro has risen up and the dining locals are all-eyes to the scene in front of them. "Please. I don't want Ran to kill me if you get jailed from across the world. C'mon. You heard from Tooru already."

The man dropped Tooru's collar that slumped Tooru back to his seat as his knees buckled for some reason he clearly knew. He just stared straight ahead, off nowhere, muffled conversations he can't make up but he heard the man clearly said before leaving.

"Stay away from Ran. You left her, right? Then stay there and watch as I make her the happiest woman alive."

Those words crumbled his world, made him double guess his choice. He was so sure of this when he told Ran, even invited her to go with him even if he knew it's a shot to the moon. He was so sure because this is his life-long dream. But now..

You saw him still staring blankly to open space, not moving. Your ladies have sympathetic looks for him and asking if he's ever okay, can't they see that he isn't?

You were about to approach him after a good 30 minutes of no-nothing from Tooru when he suddenly stood up, "Lo siento por eso, Y/n." and went straight out of the bistro looking so sullen, without even looking at you, or anyone.

And that was just the start of your weird attraction to him.

You found yourself knocking on his door one early night off from the bistro, with a container full of pasta to share to him. You already distributed the good half of what's left to your other neighbors and you purposely left him last, coz maybe you'd want to check up on him too.

It has been a week since his encounter in the bistro, a week since you noticed him ever going out of his apartment. Your mama was quite worried for the young man after you told her what happened, urging you to talk to him being the only one around his age in the apartment building.

And alas! You're here. You fidgeted with your toes curling and relaxing, tapping the pads against your rubbery surface of your slippers. Why's he not answering? He not dead, right? He better not be. You knocked again, three loud knocks just to be sure.

You were about to do a set of knocks again when the door swung open, revealing a topless Tooru, emotionless eyes drooping and bloodshot, hair all over the place, his sweatpants hang low on his hips revealing the garter part of his boxers underneath. You revel in the way he stared at you as he leans on his door jamb, waiting for you to say something. That was when you realize that you're already rudely staring.

He cocked a brow that elicited your voice. "Pasta?"

He hummed and opened the door wider, an invitation for you to come in his apartment, and you took a step in. Later on, you'd regret ever stepping into his life too.

Your eyes swept through his place. It's messy, like he threw things all over the place. A broken picture frame with glasses all over them, a broken drinking glass too just off the counter, the mirror off the corner is cracked in the middle with blood in it, throw pillows scattered in his sala, and a picture frame on the carpet near the couch.

Glass plates clanked at one another as Tooru got one for the pasta and you noticed his knuckle that got dried blood on it as he placed the plate in front of you on the table. It was silent, except for the water dripping from his kitchen sink and of his hoarse breathing.

"Close the door when you leave. Gracias."

That was out from his cold voice, uncharacteristic from the outgoing Tooru that you knew. Your eyes trained at him as he lazily walked back to his couch and sprawled like nothing happened, fingers caressing the picture frame below.

You took a deep breath as you transferred the pasta to his plate and slid it inside his fridge. You took more deep breaths as you searched for his broom and fixed the mess around his apartment. He didn't utter a word, might've not heard of you as he has his eyes closed, a tear pending on the side of his eye. Asleep? That fast?

Your lips formed a thin line as you pursed them, padding quietly close to him to watch his chest heave as he breathes. Your eyes travelled to his arm draping down the couch and to his fingers touching the glass of the picture frameーof a beaming golden haired girl with him, also beaming and ruffling the girl's hair.

You bend over to pick it up, a hand reaching over the frame, but your soul flew out of your body when suddenly, Tooru's hand gripped your wrist so hard you winced. Your head whipped to the fully-awake Tooru, burning eyes on you. Your soul wanted to flee right then and there but you were frozen, enthralled by the hidden emotion on that raging brown eyes.

"I'm sure it's not in your culture to touch the things you don't own without the owner's consent." The grip on your wrist tighten more when you didn't answer seconds later.

"Lo siento, Tooru. Just wanna fix your apartment for you."

Tooru just hummed and picked the frame with the hand he used to grip your wrist, hugged it against his bare chest, back to closing his eyes. "Gracias. Close the door."

Rubbing the sting on your wrist, you made way for his door yet your hand lingered on the knob. You sighed, head craning up, contemplating if you should say it or not, or how would he respond or not, but there's nothing wrong in asking it right?

"Tooruー" Yep, you can't. "ーMama's having a welcome party for you on the weekend."

Tooru just hummed and a silence so deafening followed. Your eyes flew to the faucet of his kitchen sink and glared at it for being so traitorous.

"You come over, 'kay? You can bring anyone, e-even your team."

Silence again. You bit your lip and sighed. Okay, that's it for now, Y/n. That's it for now.

And you were glad you did ask him that night because when Saturday night came, he did show up with his team, Club Atletico San Juan. What you didn't expect was his composure. Tooru's back to being outgoing and has a friendly aura around him, he even smiled at you and your parents, thanking you for the party.

You were left confused all night, stealing glances on him as he laughs and converse with his team and some of the locals. He even caught you once, but he just smiled and raised his beer mug, and went back talking.

Now you know why you're uncomfortable with this kind of personality of Tooru's. You have already seen the surface of his other side.

You were deemed observant even before Tooru appeared, and this right here was spot on. You scrunched your nose and shook your head, shaking the thoughts off your mind. You knew you shouldn't be attached to this kind of man. He's dangerousーbut interesting. You caught yourself groaning, you wanna dump your head straight to a bucket of cold water.

"Y/n, Tooru's table."

Your mama pushed a tray with two buckets of beers and you heaved it up to take it to Tooru's table. He saw you coming and stood up to help you. You smiled at him and offered your gratitude but he surprised you when he held your hand and guided you to seatーon his lap. Jeers erupted the table,and of the place.

"You don't mind, Señor? Señora?"

He called out to your parents, your eyes flickering to your mama in the counter and papa just off a few tables, drinking with his pals, both just shook their heads in approval, tolerant to the newcomer. You attempted to stand up but he snaked an arm around your waist to ground you. His stern eyes flickered to you for a second before beaming his usual smile.

He handed a bottle to you, "Drink?" The smell of alcohol wafted across your face from Tooru's mouth. You stared at his now dancing chocolate eyes, red shade on his neck and cheeks up to his ears. You thought he's drunk already, how much did he drink anyway?

You sighed and took the bottle he offered, drank from it. You felt weird being this close with a stranger. Well, not totally a stranger, you had known him for roughly two weeks now. But stillー

You took notice of how his hand was caressing your thighs as he talks with his team as the night went on with you still on his lap, his hand on your waist creating gentle strokes that made your head fuzzy, added the alcohol in your system. That's when you decided to stop drinking. And Tooru took notice of that. He leaned back on his chair and guided your head to lean on his shoulder.

Shutting your eyes won't do the trick, you still felt eyes staring at you as you let him do what he wants. Fuck tolerance. Fuck.

"You're not comfortable?" He mumbled low, enough that you're the only one to hear. You sneered at him.

"Is this a payback for what I did in your apartment?"

"Not quite, cariño." You instantly blushed at the unexpected endearment, stomping at his feet to which he grinned momentarily and sighed thereafter, "Stay here with me for a while, por favor."

And you didn't know how the tone of his voice enchanted you to agreeing on staying at his lap, found yourself nuzzling on his neck a moment later to which he sighed and caressed your hair as he felt your breath on his neck. And you should find a right answer to the flooding questions from people later on. Right now, his proximity first. He needs you, and you understand him somehow. The questions can wait.

"Her name is Ran, Y/n."

Tooru slurred as he rolled over his bed after being dropped by his teammates back to his apartment. You got a warm towel at hand, done with wiping his body off of sweat and alcohol, fresh clothes that his teammates change him into. He's facing you right now, enjoying in the way your hands ran through his brown locks.

"She'sーI love her, so much. But the man you saw punched me? That was his boyfriend." He closed his eyes and smiled, tears were rolling down to his pillowcase and you looked at him solemnly.

"They're complicated, and I got in the way and now, got swooped out of the pictureー" He heaved a hard sigh, you taking notice of the toll it cost on Tooru. "ーlike how it was meant to be all along. I knew it would happen. I knew it will, butー" He opened his eyes, stared straight, not meeting your eyes, "ーI never knew it'll hurt this much. This is what I get from getting in between."

You cupped his face. "But, 'ñorito, there's nothing wrong with loving her. I think you're brave to still express your feelings even if she loves someone else."

"You don't destroy the people you love."

That line got stuck with you as the days went by.

Tooru got moving again, taking jogs so early in the morning you see him go as you're drinking your cup of coffee, blanket around you in your little balcony facing the street. And he got more friendly, the little kids try to imitate him but Tooru's pace is just much for them. And the ladies, oh the ladies, you can't help but palm your face and grin as he winks at them as he passes by, making the ladies squeal and giggle so early in the morning.

"He's drunk, and I was dizzy. That's all."

You have repeated that monotonous answer to all who asked about that Saturday night with Tooru. It was exhausting but still thankful that Tooru lets you answer the way you wantedーwell, there's nothing to change, it is what it is.

But your mama knew better.

"It's okay to get attracted, I'll understand, but guard your heart hija, mi amor."

You took deep breaths as you were assigned to bring Tooru's dinner to his table. He does this every night if he finish practice early. He takes dinner in the bistro in just a white shirt and gym shorts. But why does he looks more good like this? Is it the dried sweat lingering in his hairline? Or the way his face towel hangs on his shoulder? Or just his glittering chocolate orbs dancing to the bistro lights?

"Gracias."

You were about to turn back to the counter, wiping your hands on your apron as you intended to go. But you were pulled back by your elbow, hearing a squeal from your kitchen. Oh great. You smiled at the owner of the hand that's also beaming at you and offering half of his clubhouse sandwich.

"Eat with me?"

And it's always like this, him, inviting you to random activities like this. Eating dinner with him, dragging you to jog with him early in the morning, dragging you to his practice if you're off in the bistro, begging you to teach him how to cook Argentinean cuisines, stroll with him in the park when it's his turn for a dayoff, movie nights, movie nights, movie nights.

You don't know if it's sympathy for him being alone in a foreign country, heartbroken and still mending, while reaching for his goals or it's just yourself, fully attracted to him. You don't even know when and how did it started, you just find yourself one morning thinking what will he do to get your attention, or what favors will he be asking again. He eased in your life so easily with progressing favors and it's still barely a month.

"Mama! Borrowing Y/n for tonight!"

It just took a month to arrive to this night, the night that will change everything in you. You kept asking how the hell were you so easy to get for Tooru but it took the others over a year to get you. Thoughts swarming your head as he stared at you, him having laid his head on your lap looking up at you after you said something like, "Someone out there likes you Tooru, you're enjoyable to be with, no dull moments. You're hella attractive, take a hint from the ladies on the streets as you jog by. You might have some red flags but I believe you can work with that. AndーTooru, you're boyfriend material."

He got up, had his back against your thigh, a hand on the couch on your back caging you, and even if you're both seated, he's still looking slightly down at you. And he's dangerously close, you can't deny if he'll ever say he can hear your heart pound harder.

"Can I kiss you for that?"

You can feel the enchantment in his voice again, with an intense stare to match. You have to pause and think for a second. He's in a heartbroken state, and can easily be swayed with sweet words, thirsty for comfort. And you're the closest to get it from, as for now. You might be left behind, hell he might just forget this favor in the morning. He can be playing with you, teasing youーbut being aware of that annoying attraction you have for him, you fucking nodded, eye closed and anticipating.

You felt his hands ghosting on your face, keeping some strands away, caressing your cheek with a finger before cupping it with the delicate touch of his calloused hands. Then you can feel his breath fanning across your face, you sucked your breath from the closeness, your nails digging to your palm, and you heard him chuckle.

"Relax. Won't eat you."

You smirked, still with your eyes closed. "What a lie."

Then you felt it, his fluttering lips pressed onto yours ever so gently you felt it barely touched, brushed might be a good term before he pressed it firmly, and another one, and another until you can't take the teasing and your hands flew to the back of his neck and pulled him closer to kiss him back. Your eyes fluttered open when you pulled back, meeting his eyes full of shock and curiosity and amusement and you just rolled your eyes on him, rubbing a thumb on his skin.

His face is breaking a breathy smile when he felt your awkwardness from the way your arms loosened in his neck. "Can I touch you?"

You instantly felt fire in your cheeks, swallowed a lump on your throat and Tooru sees how your reactions danced in your face, frame by frame. And he is amused by it, much more when you nodded.

He smiled at you before going for a deep kiss, poking his tongue onto your lips for entry, and you granted him access, running your hands on his hair slightly tugging. You can't help but moan at how his tongue flicks against yours, and how his hands wander on your thighs, rubbing so sensually. Then you yelped when he lifted you up to his lap, straddling him and capturing your lips again.

Tooru's hands travelled up your skirt, gripping your ass and smirked through your kiss, realizing you just wore your thong. You pulled away enough to mutter a "Shut up, Tooru." And you smashed your lips back to his, hungrily kissing him and groaning the constant teasing of his fingers in your underwear's garter.

"Can I do more?" He asked after a few good minutes of kissing and groping, his breath heavy, eyes hazy with lust. "Fuck. Please, let me do more."

You tilted your head, mocking him and you laughed when he groaned and buried his head on your chest. You're no better, you can feel wetness from between your thighs and it's just a matter of time before he notices that, and he will still tease you no matter what so you lowered your hips, lining your wetness to his hard-on and started grinding, earning an animalistic groan from him.

"Fucking shit. You're wet already, mi amor. Lo sienーfuck."

You moaned as he tightened his grip on your waist, guiding it down and faster. "I'm gonna ravish you, okay?"

He didn't waited for your answer as he captured your gaping mouth and swallowed your moans. You can feel his finger swiped through your wetness before lifting you up to his room and down to his soft mattress. And even if this is the first time seeing him above you like this, you know you can't get enough of this sight. It's so captivating, swallowing your thoughts whole, ignoring the danger alerts from your system. You won't have this any other way.

Tooru woke up to a soft grip around his waist, a comfortable weight on his draped arm. Thoughts from the previous night came reeling and he sighed, pulling you closer by your head and kissed your hair to which you hummed and nuzzled your head to his neck.

He stared at the ceiling, remembering the conversation that led you to his bed. His face soured as he reached for his phone. It was muted the whole day yesterday for some reason he can't stomach but the curiosity is killing him now.

☆ VOLLEYBALL IDIOTS ー MAIN ☆

JZJ | Runa

Aaahh, sorry Ran! I can't! Just share more pictures pleasee!

JZJ | Yuuji

HAH! NO!

DON'T!

JZJ | Runa

Booger!

ITC | Yoomi

Stop being a bully for once.

STZ | Kenjiro

Please send pictures.

CRW | Kei

Tsk. @Rintaro Suna

CAT | Kai

Ran said you have to give two gifts if you didn't attend even the reception, LOL.

DT | Kenji

I'm attending the reception! Fuck!

@Mai Nametsu PM

SJ | Hajime

I have proxies there.

SJ | Maki

who? 😏

SJ | Issei

WHO? 👀

SJ | Hajime

🌵

FOX | Rintaro

*sent 12 pictures*

Tooru Oikawa left the group

FOX | Samu

LMAO

Osamu Miya added Tooru Oikawa to the group

@RAN'S PLUSHIE he's escaping

RAN'S PLUSHIE

LOL

@Tooru Oikawa as promised

*sent 1 picture*

SJ | Tooru

👍

CRW | Hisashi

Awkward....

CRW | Tobio

@RAN'S PLUSHIE don't use your phone while at your own reception

TOBIO'S Y/N

Oh.

RAN'S PLUSHIE

Heyyy! I'm sorry! But are y'all enjoying??

Tooru discarded his phone to his nightstand, the pictures sent embedded in his mind too late. All he could do was card your locks, closing his eyes, prohibiting any tears to fall from his eyes.

He has to accept it. He did this to himself. Now he has to face it. And begrudgingly dragging you to the mess that he is. He'll regret this, but what's there to mess more in his life?

His phone kept ringing and buzzing as the days went by. He's back to his usual routine, morning jogs, day to afternoon practices and nights with you. As you moan in his ears as you came the fourth time a month after your first hook up with him, he can't shake the thought that why is it so hard to detach himself from Ran and make space for you in his heart other than this heated relationship you have with him.

You're kind, and thoughtful, you understand him, saw his darkest parts, and you're gorgeous. He kept throwing glances to those men who checks you out when you're out jogging with him, even some of his teammates are checking you out he glared at them once. He's.. protective of you. All he knows is he wants you near him, like this. You somehow provide comfort in his messy world, a pillow to hug through his lonely life. And he has to somehow repay you, other than being a fuckbuddy.

So, he started cooking for you when he comes back to his apartment from practice, helping in the bistro on his days off, giving you random sunflowers picked from the park you had to smack his arm everytime through your blush. He's not oblivious to your budding feelings, and he'll be damned he knows it, unable to reciprocate it.

"Where are we going?"

He huffed as he cruised through the road out of the city, bags for a week packed on the back seat.

"The team's got a friendly match in Mar del Plata, can't leave you behind." He side eyed you and smiled, his features in the sunrise looked so dazzling as always.

And you were debating with your heart again, continuously asking what kind of relationship is this. You never dared opening up the topic, afraid that opening it up would instantly end whatever this is. And you're sure you're not ready for it to happen.

Your train of thoughts were halted when he hummed, "Y/n, just wanna let you know I'm in the roster already, training to be their starter setter. If I acquire my citizenship within three months, I can join the leagues in November."

You grinned at him, a leg propped on your seat as you turn your body to face him. "I knew you could do it, Tooru. Tan orgulloso de ti."

Tooru's hand reached for your thigh and squeezed it, nonverbally thanking you for the support. And it stayed there for hours, through the talks about his life in Japan and about his friends, until you fell asleep through the drive. And you shall know though, many years from now, that it's the most peaceful drive Tooru had in his life, with you just slumbering away while he drove across the country.

Nothing much to do in Mar del Plata other than being in their practices and on the actual match later that week, professional volleyball player Oikawa Tooru on full display. When in court, you can see his glow, brighter than how the sunshine reflects on his face every morning when he cuddles you after a steamy fuck the night before. Of course, this is his life-goal, and you're just his.. go-to.

You can't help but be sullen whenever the thought hit you. And more so that night out after the game with the other team.

The other team, you discovered, were on friendly terms with Tooru's team for years and both of you are new to them so basically, you're the center of attention tonight.

"Tooru, si? How's CA San Juan?"

"They're exceptional."

"Have you been always a setter?"

"Yes, since middle school."

"Why Argentinean League?"

Evading conflicts. "Wanna go against certain players in the future as national players."

You leaned your head at his shoulder as he offered that white lie to them, fiddling with your phone. The teams jeered at how Tooru answered it and encouraged him more on being a national player. You smiled, but dropped almost immediately when the captain of the other team raised the question.

"Who is she? Your girlfriend?"

Tooru turned his head to you, peeked through your lashes and you smiled, "No." You leaned away from him almost immediately as you answered. And Tooru stared at you at the rest of the night, silent, even through the drive home the day after.

There was nothing wrong with how you answered the question, right? You're just stating facts. You're not clearly his girlfriend, because clearly he's not yet over Ran, his love of his life. You peeled your eyes from his pheripherals. You can't let Tooru see how your eyes saddened.

And sadness and nausea pulled you to sleep.

"ーIwa-chan. She's.. I don't knowー"

"You're clearly making her a rebound, Shittykawa."

"No."

"Don't confuse yourself. Don't hurt her in expense of your comfort."

"I'm not, Hajime, IーI can drop everything I worked hard, for her, to stay with her."

"ARE YOU NUTS!?"

"Nー"

"THAT'S THE GOAL OF YOUR LIFETIME, SINCE PRIMARY AND YOU'RE GONNA DROP IT!?"

"Tone down. She might hear you, she's just sleeping."

"What the fuck, YOU'RE CRAZY!"

"I can'tーHajime, not her. Not again."

"YOU'RE JUST SEEING TSUKISHIMA RAN IN HER!"

"Tsk. If you can't drop your tone down, I'm ending the call."

"THEN END IT I DON'T WANNA TALK TO YOU! YOU'RE FRUSTRATING! THAT'S OUR GOAL AND YOU'RE JUST GONNAー"

You heard him huff, clearly frustrated of his bestfriend and you noticed he sped up to the last stretch to town. He didn't notice you were awake, good, because you don't know how to react to that conversation.

Your attention was on your belly and a tear escaped from your eyes. You swallowed hard as you waited patiently to be on the confines of your home.

Tooru barged in your room on a weekend after the Mar del Plata trip, catching you barfing on your bathroom sink. "Bad pasta." You had said to reassure him, smiling over your shoulder. He rubbed your back after he had gone to get you a glass of water.

You had to inform him of your college plans out of the country. You knew it was sudden, but you needed this. And maybe now's the best time, considering he might've seen the luggages all around your room.

"Tooru." You called his attention while wiping your face. Damn, bad pasta. "I'll be going to Rio de Janeiro for college in the fall." No brakes, just go straight ahead, Y/n. If you get caught up, it'll destroy you both.

And you had to veer your eyes away from his, offering a smile you don't know if it's sincere or no.

"Y/n?"

"I have been planning this even before you came." Go on, Y/n.

"Can I come with you?"

You shook your head, smile still plastered at your face as you turn to him. "No, Tooru. You'll be getting your citizenship soon and the team needs their fresh setter."

"How about your parents?"

"They'll be staying in the country, but they're going back to Rio Gallegos."

His eyes went wild, searching for something in your eyes. Is it panic that you're seeing? You suddenly felt bad. You just wanted to be in his room, in his arms, like last week, like the weeks, months before that.

"The bistro?"

"Will be turned over to Tiá Carmellita."

"Y/n, you're leaving me."

Osamu's was the name right? words that night in the bistro slammed to you like a trailer truck. You took Tooru's hand and kissed it. "I'll be back before you know it. First, you have to make your dreams come true here, in San Juan, okay?"

Tooru's head was swimming on a pool of oil or tar where he can't get out of. Seeing you packing, the thoughts of you leaving is plaguing him like locusts. And he can't say anything, clearly baffled of what's happening in front of him, and on inside of him. What's happening to him?

He got his own taste of medicine, getting left for their own goals. And you, of all people, is doing that to him, makes the pain doubling him over to the edge of sanity. But he's confused. Why is he feeling this for you?

But you'll come back, right? Yeah, you'll come back. Nothing to be worried about.

Though, he still rushed to the airport to see you one last time for the promised four years of being away. And that too, he failed to do, and without knowing you waited two hours for him to come by, guessing you're not that important to him, and it's still volleyball Tooru's prioritizing. And definitely, you couldn't hold onto what he said to his bestfriend over the phone. And he said to keep in touch, but you have no plans to.

Being with him is dangerous for you, and for the little growing pasta inside of you.

You're cradling your little bundle of joy of a three-month-old to sleep as you heard a knock on your door. Must be the food delivery, your mouth instantly watered and you rushed for the door.

You were greeted by an orange-haired man, all dressed like the usual delivery man of your favorite restaurant nearby. Though, you were familiar of him for he had moved two apartments down your unit and.. he's clearly Japanese.

"Thank you, Shoyo. Come in and get the money in that table." You nudged your chin to the high table beside your mirror just off the sala.

"Seu bebê está dormindo, Y/n?"

"About to." And you turned to face your baby to Shoyo, and he instantly cooed and poked her fluffy cheeks.

"Adeus Thalia~"

"Adeus Tió Shoyo~"

And he's about to go out the door when you called out to him. "Shoyo, relax, you'll gonna be fine." Because you noticed him in his first month that he's nowhere okay, probably missing home like that achingly familiar guy. Shoyo nodded at you, lips quivering and bowed, clutching the strap of his delivery bag. When he was gone, you sighed deeply thinking you're seriously plagued with Japanese neighbors.

The days went by and you decided to expose your baby to the sunshine and to people. You just hope she'll be a good pasta out there, hoping she's as sociable as her father. And you were thankful that she is, as she flapped her fat arms to passerbys as you head for the beach. You remembered Shoyo and his friends are lounging here when they got nothing to do, except for Pedro that's probably cooped up on his room.

But suddenly, Thalia went rigid in your arms and after three months of taking care of this cute pasta, you knew what was happening as she started getting whiny and whimpering. You kissed her cheeks and turned back to your apartment. And that's when you heard it..

"Oikawa-san!"

"ChibiーAh! Shoyo!"

Your breath went suddenly restricted, you feel your feet wobbled you held on tight to Thalia, forcing your steps towards the path to your apartment.

"What are you doing here Oikawa-san?"

"Uh, that's my question, thanks. Don't steal it."

Faster, Y/n. Before he notices you and your crying pasta. Fuck. What are the odds. WHAT ARE THE ODDS!

"Y/n?"

You froze and looked up, the captain of Tooru's volleyball team staring down at you, surprised. He might've seen your watery eyes and silent plead because he suddenly nodded and just went on like he didn't see you. But seeing Thalia.. You silently battered yourself in your thoughts for being so dumb. You should've known!

You were crying hard as you changed Thalia's diapers, and she's crying with you as you rock her, kissing her head. It was just his voice, but it has already this big of an effect on you. You missed him, so bad, but you can't destroy the ones that you love.

And he's just seeing Ran in you.. you can't indulge in him anymore. You're thankful for Thalia, butー

You froze as you heard a knock, your fear of him taking over.

"W-who is it?" You squeaked as you took a look at your peephole.

"It's me. Pedro." You sighed, but not near to be relax. You opened your door and let Pedro in.

"Você está bem? Your eyes areー"

You placed Thalia in her cot as she got tired of crying and now is sleeping. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Uh, just heard Thalia's cries, thought you might need some help?"

You quickly wiped a tear fallen to your cheeks, "Nope. Thank you. Shoyo? Is he home?"

He paced to your dining, and you just noticed the plastic bag on his hand as he placed it on the table. "Nope. But he sent this for you. He also sent for me, too. So.." He studied you for a minute and let his thoughts go, "Eu deveria estar indo. Knock when you need help, okay?"

You nodded as you smiled at him. You wanted to say you wanted to leave Rio, leave a place again just to be away from him completely. You exasperatedly closed your eyes, rubbed your forehead on all the things you're already planning, then your eyes flew to your sleeping pasta.

For Thalia. You'll endure anything.

You just hope he'll be gone after a few days. He should go after a few days. And within that wait, you'll be staying in your apartment. Thalia's exposure to the sun and to the public can wait, just for a few days.

And Tooru was conflicted on being in Rio, to where you said you will be. You haven't contacted him for over a year already, and it's bothering him to the core, much more bothered now than finding out that Ran got twins. He just wanted to see you, be with you, but how can he be with you if he can't even reach you?

And he saw Shoyo instead, glad and might be a little terrified at the evolution he's showcasing Tooru. But still a little clumsy as he said he lost his wallet, so he treated him dinner, and his friends. He told him there's this woman with a newborn in his neighborhood and when Shoyo decided to part his dinner with her, Tooru just ordered a few more for her, without knowing it was you.

He wasn't expecting to see you though, after a year of no contact he thought he was ghosted, just left behind with no traces. But a few years from now, he'll realize he had left a big part of him on you.

"You're kidding me."

Osamu gasp at something Tooru can't figure out from across the table. Shoyo was between the Miya Twins and they're looking at something on his phone. On times he got scared of Osamu, it was always related to Ran, the last one being 7 years ago at a haunting bistro off the streets of San Juan.

Tooru was shocked, as every athlete inside the joint restaurant of Moon and Onigiri Miya in Shibuya crossing, when Osamu grabbed Tooru's collar from across the table.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Tooru?"

"What is your problem now?"

Osamu snatched Shoyo's phone and shoved it to Tooru's face.

Tooru's eyes were achingly slow to reach the Shoyo's phone screen because of his irritation. He was already sleepy and he just wants to go back to his apartment. But no, the heavens have other plans.

He saw you in Shoyo's phone, and his shaky hands reached out to hold the phone yourself, wide eyes and tears running down his cheeks as his eyes fixed on a little girl beside you.

"What the fuck, Oikawa."

"What's happening?"

"There's this kid that looks a lot like him."

"And?"

"Osamu?"

"We met her in San Juan, Shoyo. You didn't even thought about that? How dumb can you be?"

"Yeah, boke. But what? A kid?"

"Thalia's 7 years old now."

"Wait till Hajime hears this, Tooru."

"You're one messed up dude, really."

But he's deaf of the judgments around him. His attention was on you, and his probably little girl. No, not probably, he was sure it's his. She has the same chocolate brown hair and eyes.

He smiled through his tears and faced Shoyo who was just staring at him, waiting for him to say something.

"Y/n's that friend that I told you about, with a newborn."

Tooru closed his eyes, he never realized he was already that close to seeing you. Why didn't youー

"She said Thalia's father is just seeing her as someone else so she never told him she was pregnant. And Y/n's too invested in making that man's dreams come true without her, so she decided to escape from his grasp." Shoyo tilted his head on Tooru in brooding annoyance. "You don't destroy the people you love. She would always say that everytime I ask her why won't she go back, but that applies to you too, huh, Oikawa-san. And twice at that."

The place fell silent at Shoyo's words, except for Osamu's whimpers at the familiarity of the quote he once said at that bistro.

Tooru fell back to his chair, Shoyo's phone falling to the table with a loud thud. His composure was like a broken dam and a series of fucks and what the hells were muttered 'round the place.

"Where is she now, Shoyo? She deserves my apology."

Tooru heard Hajime but his cries came flooding on his system. He didn't even realize he loves you this much until now. Oh what irony.

"She's still at the apartment. I can call her if you're both coー"

"Don't. If she knew Tooru's coming, she might evade him again."

"Tooru-oni, stop crying, you look dumb."

Ran's 7-year old son, Takeshi, was previously seating in Kiyoomi's lap and now he's infront of Tooru, offering his hanky to him. Tooru sniffed hard and wiped his tears, and smiled to which Takeshi scrunched up his nose. So much like his mother. He took the hanky from his little hands and kissed his head. Takeshi made way to Tooru's lap and sat there, cringing at how Tooru blew his nose.

But Tooru hugged Takeshi, kissing his head more, to which Osamu rubbed his face exasperatedly and walked out. "'Keshi, you'll be staying with me tonight just until mama's home, okay?"

"Haiii~"

And Tooru felt Hajime's hand on his shoulders, tapping, encouraging him on facing you a week from now.

But by now, you're not afraid of him anymore, instead you're just waiting for him to find you again, like what the fate did seven years ago. And Thalia's ready for his father, too, but Tooru should expect her grumpiness and competitiveness as she had taken it from him.

"Oikawa Tooru, mama?"

"Si, mi amor."

"He's a dangerous volleyball idiot."

And you laughed. Yeah, he's a volleyball idiot, alright. But dangerous? Hm, nope. He's actually soft and a crybaby that you would want to comfort and protect for all eternity.

Estas bien? ー You, okay?

Lo siento por eso ー I'm sorry for that

Gracias ー Thank you

Cariño ー endearment for lover

Por favor ー Please

'ñorito (señorito) ー gentleman, sir, (but yn intended to humor him)

hija ー little girl

mi amor ー my love

Tan orgulloso de ti ー so proud of you

Seu bebê está dormindo? ー your baby is sleeping?

Adeus ー bye

Você está bem? ー are you okay?

Eu deveria estar indo ー I should be going

Reblogs and interactions are appreciated. Theories will be entertained. Cassie 2023.

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strvlveera · 1 year

Text

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥.

pairing: royalty!oikawa x afab!reader

genre: royal au, angst w/happy ending, fluff

w/c: 10.7k (help me)

warnings: swearing (lmk if there should be more !)

synopsis: sick and tired of the looming castle walls, tooru decides to adventure outwards. somewhere he wasn't allowed to go. dressed as a young 'peasant' boy tooru comes across the delicious smell of fresh baked bread. considering he was starving he marched right in demanding a loaf of bread, forgetting he wasn't in normal attire. you, the daughter of the baker, found him a headache but also amusing. I mean what source of entertainment can you get when you're so poor?

"I am your prince!"

"...then why are you dressed like that?"

(lowercase intended)

slightly based on 'ceilings' by lizzy mcalpine

a/n: this isn't proofread so there may be careless mistakes! the synopsis doesn't comprehend how much angst there will be... I made this fic as an excuse to not sleep...got this idea at 2 am so T_T honestly since hq is coming back(?) soon I just want my home boy back...

I also apologise for not getting this done sooner i don't know why it took me so long.. anyways enjoy!

btw can you spot a manwha reference too?

NOT PROOF READ!

taglist: @tooruchiiscribs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @sillykawa @rukia-uchiha-98 @softcd @misfit-megumi @suzizanne

"sit here and reminisce about your actions. I have a lot of things to do today," the king calmly demanded tooru as he whined and grumbled, dragging him by the arm to his room.

"I just wanted to play, you're always so busy and nee-san is always holding tea parties with her friends!" tooru exclaimed, crossing arms.

"you'll understand in the future. when you’re king, you'll always be busy."

"what if I don't want to be king? I want to be a knight! I want to be free and keep my friends safe, as well as you and nee-san," tooru proudly said to his father, as if convincing him that taking the throne was what he wasn't destined for.

the king mockingly laughed, not taking tooru's words seriously.

"keep an eye on him, don't let him leave this room until I come back," stated the king to the guard outside who gave a quick nod.

"of course, your highness."

"i'll be off then tooru, behave."

with the creak of the closing door tooru sprawled his arms across the bed as he flumped down, a sour look on his face staring into the ceiling.

"behave tooru! oh, look at me being too busy being a king that I don't even have time for my son!" mocks tooru, reminiscing about his father's stern words rather than his own actions.

i mean, it wasn't his fault that he 'accidentally' hit his great-grandfather's statue. it wasn’t as if he was trying to catch anyone's attention. it wasn't his fault he was alone most of the day, except when the royal tutor came. it wasn’t his fault that the dreams of becoming a knight got disregarded as soon as he even said the word 'knight', as if it wasn’t an option.

tooru had to practically beg his father for swordsmanship lessons, even though he was so young, desperately clinging to his dream of becoming a knight. why? to be free from his fate, his destiny and yet his father still said no.

"king this, king that, why not knight this, knight that?" questioned tooru, still huffing from his father's words.

he doesn't even want to be king anyway. the responsibility of it seemed trapping as if he'd be a bird in a cage with everyone watching his every move.

silently staring at the ceiling with a blank face, tooru decides on an escape plan. except this time he'll escape to the city. the place where his father told him to never go.

"you'll catch a deadly disease! how will you train to be a knight?"

the memory passed through his mind.

"how am I supposed to be a knight anyway whenever I'm always confined in this boring palace?" tooru thought out loud.

knights are daring and dashing and most importantly loved by all. if tooru wanted to be a knight, he'd have to be a little adventurous and brave.

"if mother was here she'd let me go," says tooru, quietly reassuring himself that his decision was beneficial and ethical.

finding old clothes from the back of his wardrobe, he tried his best to make himself an unroyal attire. with a bit of tearing in certain parts tooru proudly stood in front of his mirror with his disguise, ready for operation: escape to town.

"soo original tooru.."

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

tooru's ears perked up to the sound of the bustling streets of the city, his eyes lighting up with excitement as crowds of people strolled up and down the street. some frantically buying groceries from the local market, some sitting outside having a beverage of choice whilst talking with the person opposite, laughing at each other's comments.

this is way more fun than the palace thought tooru, as he gazed around.

alas, with the growl of his stomach, tooru then realised how he barely had any food that day as he was having too much fun causing chaos at the palace.

"i should've brought money for food, why am i so dumb?!," tooru whines, whilst ruffling his hair out of frustration.

the feeling of his empty stomach made tooru more impatient until he smelt a whiff of something delicious. following the scent like a delirious zombie, tooru came to a halt when he came across a bakery. as he opened the door a ding came from a bell and his eyes landed upon a girl, which he assumed to be his age, putting some sort of pastry in an oven until she realised the presence of tooru and quickly wiped her floury hands, rushing towards him.

"hello, sir, welcome to shokupan. unfortunately, you're visiting during our closing hours, would you like to leave in an order for tomorrow?" she asks with a click of a pen, smiling at tooru as he processes what she just asked.

"i need that loaf of bread," demanded tooru pointing to the freshly baked milk bread on the counter, ignoring the girl’s question.

following tooru's finger, the girl realised what he was asking for and nervously chuckled.

"o-oh! i'm sorry but that isn't to be bought by anyone except the man that ordered it earlier. may i ask again if you want to order anything for tomorrow?" she asks again.

by now tooru's patience was wearing thin. with an awful combination of an empty stomach and tired legs, he started to grow irritated but so were you. yes, you. the baker's daughter.

with your father off for deliveries, you had to look after the bakery; taking orders everyday, making the dough and baking most of the bread yourself. with a job like this, it can get very tiring easily. especially with ignorant customers but that was rare. until today, where you had the 'fortunate' opportunity to stumble across a hungry and grumpy tooru.

"i don't want or need anything for tomorrow. what i need is that bread - so would you just give it to me?" demanded tooru once again.

you sighed, putting a hand to your forehead being physically and mentally exhausted from the hard work and now him.

"as i've said before, sir, i can't just give you a loaf of bread. if you don't want to order anything i'll have to ask you to leave so that i can close up the bakery," and with that you began to head back to the kitchen.

"you don't understand, i need that bread now! i'm dying of hunger, don't you pity me?" pleaded tooru with furrowed eyebrows, desperate for a bite of that delicious looking bread.

"look, there are many people who wander in and out of the bakery looking for pastries but unfortunately i can't give you it without permission from my boss. it's just how business runs around here," you shrugged, used to the situation.

normally, you'd give him a loaf of free bread, however word got out that you gave out free bread to those who couldn't afford it and an upburst happened causing the bakery to be shut down for a whole week. your father was certainly not happy about what happened but was glad that you were charitable and sympathetic to the people.

of course tooru had no idea this happened, he never read the newspapers anyway as they were too boring to him. he'd rather run around the palace causing chaos.

with tooru in desperate need of food he decided to play his trump card.

he cleared his throat and proudly stated, "although i may not look like it, i am actually prince tooru of the oikawa family, ruler of this city and province. as of now i may not look like the part, because i am on a very special mission, but i can reassure you that this is your dear prince."

with a small hair flip and a smug smile tooru awaited an apology but instead found you laughing hysterically like a hyena.

offended, tooru immediately questions, "w-what's wrong? you should be cowering before me and asking for my forgiveness, why are you laughing like a maniac?"

obviously you couldn't reply, still holding your stomach as you try to catch your breath from laughing too much.

"b-because…." you began but immediately started laughing again.

tooru scoffed, flabbergasted at your behaviour and disrespect to him as a royal. you were just a commoner and he was royalty, how dare you mock him like this?

"i don't know why you think this is hilarious but i am not lying. i am your prince!" proclaimed tooru, tired of your actions.

calming yourself down with a shaky breath out, you look at (a very annoyed) tooru up and down.

"if you really are the prince, which is very unlikely considering that this is the west side of the city, then why are you dressed like that?" you questioned, suspicious of his manner and clothes.

confused, tooru stops glaring at you and begins to analyse his outfit and quickly realises what you meant.

"oh…."

you chuckle in disbelief and maybe even pity, thinking he's gone mad already as a teenager.

"yeah, oh."

embarrassingly, tooru took off the smug look off his face and cleared his throat.

"you're not doing a very good job at convincing me prince tooru," you mocked, cheekily smiling at him.

"maybe i need more time to enhance my skills," tooru replies with an eye roll.

what a pity you thought, he was really entertaining. you wondered if he did acting as a job.

“well, i guess this is the part where i go,” tooru awkwardly began as he slowly turned to walk out the door, mostly out of embarrassment and the need to get home. his father would be furious if he found him dressed like this.

"wait just a second," you frantically said, trying to catch up with him, after grabbing something from the counter.

he anxiously turns, not wanting to be humiliated even more. however, to his delight you handed him a paper bag filled with a loaf of milk bread. you could immediately see how his demeanour changed and how his eyes lit up, almost as if there were stars in them.

"c-can i really have this?" asked tooru, with saliva already threatening to drip from his mouth.

"of course, i'm not that cruel. plus, i saw you eyeing up the milk bread from earlier. you looked like you really couldn't live without it. i’ll just make another batch for the old man," you replied with a small smile, mentally reminding yourself to not tell your father about this. who knows what would happen.

relief spread across tooru's face.

"thank you…?"

"ah - i'm y/n."

"thank you y/n," tooru replies with a wide smile, grateful for the milk bread.

with a bright smile, you waved goodbye to tooru as the bell of the door rang once again, indicating he was leaving to your dismay.

"come back soon!" you called out to tooru, secretly wishing to see him again tomorrow.

happily chewing on the milk bread, tooru smiled to himself filled with content, glad of the encounter and his courage to adventure off.

his father certainly wouldn't be pleased if he found out.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

it was the following day and you couldn't help but secretly wait for a certain someone to come through the door. most of your customers were regulars so it was usually the same people saying the same things that you already knew about even when you'd make conversation asking,"anything new happen?" and with them replying with,"it's always the same old y/n."

it was pretty boring in the west end, except for all the crime that's been lurking around. the ring of the bell came and you turned around, only to be met by the same boy from yesterday. you were ecstatic to see the brown haired boy again. swiftly walking over to him you greet him with another milk bread you made just for him.

"well if it isn't the prince tooru, gracing me with his presence again," you sarcastically say, with a little courtesy.

it wasn't until you got a proper look at him that you realised how he was panting, trying to catch his breath and the plum bruise on his face.

tooru saw how fast your reaction to the bruise was, as your eyes started to fill with worry and concern. with furrowed eyebrows you hesitantly touched his face and he backed away.

"i'm so sorry tooru I didn't mean to-"

"no-no it's fine y/n don't worry, I don't know why I backed up in the first place," he reassuringly said.

although, in reality he backed away because he got nervous when you touched him. it felt comforting, which was a foreign emotion to tooru ever since his mother passed away.

"are you okay? how'd you get the bruise? did something happen?" you asked, bombarding him with questions, wondering how he ended up like this.

tooru found it really heart-warming how you only knew him for less than twenty-four hours and yet you showed so much concern for him. most of the maids in the palace only cared about his safety so that they wouldn't get fired by the king. to have someone genuinely worry about him made him feel as if he was valued as a human being, instead of "the king's son" or "the heir to the throne".

he actually got the bruise by accidently bumping into a gang that didn't look very pleased with him. he ran as fast as he could, screaming his lungs out.

"not very knightly of you tooru," he thought.

he made sure to not tell you about this.

he softly smiled at you as he said, "nothing, don't worry about it,"

not wanting to pry anymore, you let it go although you were still sceptical about the ordeal.

"well, if you say so. how about we enjoy the milk bread i prepared for you? it's a slow day today so we can sit down and have a chat outside," you insisted, leading tooru outside.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

throughout the next few months you both continued to meet each other. with tooru sneaking out the palace more often and you already having freshly baked milk bread just for him. your father would get suspicious, catching you smiling to yourself at random times of the day whenever he was at the bakery but brushed it off as he was glad to see you happy rather than tired from all the work he gave you.

with your father starting to help more at the bakery than doing deliveries, you decided to pick a new meetup spot with tooru so that you two could talk with as much freedom as possible. without your father glaring at tooru as he did with his first encounter with him.

you showed him your hidden gem, a place where you would run to when the world would overwhelm you. your safe haven. urging tooru to go in first, his eyes were blessed with a charming peaceful meadow, secluded from society which was a good thing, as its beauty was preserved for you to see and now tooru. surprisingly you haven't even shown your father this heaven but you willingly led tooru here.

there was something about this milk bread obsessed boy that made you feel as if you could trust him. you've had male friends before but they would always tease you that you were a one trick pony as you could only bake but barely cook to save your life.

“ugh! I keep burning the bacon….” you grumbled, looking over to the pile of burnt bacon on the counter.

"just stick to baking y/n, it's the only thing you're good at," matsukawa slyly said, with the classic smirk of his which resulted in a loud smack to his head. he deserved it.

they never took you seriously. until tooru came along and changed your perspective. yes, he would be very arrogant at some points but alas that was just how he was and without it he wouldn't be as charming. it also brought out a new side of you, where you would make snarky remarks to him which would end in the both of you hugging your stomachs from laughing or tooru pouting.

relaxing down on a light patch of grass, you began talking about the future, a common topic in your conversations to tooru's dismay but it ended up helping him release his bottled up problems.

"i feel bad," you began, in a soft tone.

"why? you've done nothing except give me happiness," he questioned, confused by your sudden statement.

flustered by the choice of words that he used, you averted your eyes. clearing your throat you continued,”i always complain about my life and talk about my problems and yet you never get the chance to talk sometimes, when we talk about the future or anything serious in general.”

realising how insensitive you sound, your eyes widen and turn to tooru to apologise.

“i didn’t mean that-i mean I did but not in that context. of course you don’t have to talk about touchy subjects in your life if you don’t want to,” you paused for a second, trying not to panic and calmly collect your thoughts.

“I guess what i'm trying to say is, you can talk to me. you can talk about anything, other than your love for the milk bread i give you,” that earned a chuckle from tooru.

You grin, pleased that you received a positive reaction from him.

“i know we’ve only been friends for quite a while and i whole-heartedly understand if you feel a bit uncomfortable with all of this. just know I’ll always be here tooru,” you concluded, slightly embarrassed by what you said.

"aww….y/n, you care so much about me huh?" teased tooru, although he secretly soaked up all your words.

you sulked, embarrassed at your actions and mostly how tooru reacted to what you said but also not very surprised by his antics. tooru was busy laughing at your demeanour.

"sorry y/n, i didn't want to ruin the moment by laughing but i am really touched I swear!" tooru explained.

"i poured my heart and soul into that and you're here making fun of me!" you grumbled, purposely exaggerating your words so that he'd apologise soon.

tooru's laugh rang in your ears and he quickly apologised for teasing you.

"don't worry y/n, i listened very carefully. you have no idea how much I appreciate you."

just as you were about to say "thank you", tooru continued.

"mostly because of the milk bread you bake for me but don't worry i also appreciate the company just not as much as the bread," he cheekily said, earning a smack in the back of his head from you.

"ouch! what was that for?" he whined.

"i’m not give you milk bread anymore," you replied with a stone face.

tooru gasped and started pleading for your mercy, trying to flatter you with compliments as you got up from the dented grass and started walking away from him.

"y/n you're an angel, you know that right?"

"yes tooru i know i am. now stop clinging onto my cardigan or else I'll feed you raw dough instead."

you only gave into his pleas when he started bowing down to you in the middle of the street when you were trying to ignore him.

"almighty y/n, i am a sinful man begging for your forgiveness. please give me a loaf of milk bread."

"tooru people are starting to look, please get up," you hurryingly pleaded.

he gave you one last glance and in return you gave him a dirty look, already fed up with his act.

"almighty y/n, please listen to my prayer-"

"fine, fine! i'll give you free milk bread again…"

"oh thank you! almighty-"

"i'm seriously going to punch you."

--- ⁠✧

the day ended with tooru beaming with happiness as he ate his milk bread, and you sat across from him once again with your hand resting against your chin gazing upon his figure. you never understood why your milk bread was so special to him but you were glad that you could make him happy in some sort of way.

"maybe I should start charging you, we might just go bankrupt from all the free bread we've given you," you teased, already knowing what he'd say.

"well it isn't my fault that they taste so good!" tooru whined.

you giggled and went back to staring at him, appreciating his beauty. the way his smooth skin glistened against the withering glows of the sun, the way his lips parted to take a bite of the bread, the way his brown eyes would melt into golden rays as the sunlight hit his face. how on earth could this boy in front of you be a commoner when his looks alone could help him get a job easily?

"you know you're really pretty tooru, even when you have a lot of crumbs on your face," you randomly said as you focused on specific parts of his face.

tooru almost choked on the milk bread, surprised at your sudden statement.

"of course i'm pretty. i am a prince after all," he nervously chuckled trying to cover up his flustered expression.

"are you still acting as if you're a prince?" you questioned, amused that he’s still keeping up the act.

with a smug face, tooru replied,"when the time comes and you see that i am a prince, you will be so shocked and i'd laugh right in your face."

you rolled your eyes as you thought,"yeah right. as if a prince would be sitting right in front me, stuffing his face with the milk bread that i baked. tooru is seriously unbelievable."

it wasn't until a year later that it became believable. specifically, on his eighteenth birthday.

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

"be careful with those plates!"

"which colour would you like your highness? celeste or baby blue?"

"would you like chocolate or vanilla frosting on the cake, your highness?"

the palace was clearly bustling with noise and excitement. why? because it’s tooru’s special eighteenth birthday tomorrow.

tooru hadn't realised it until a while ago but his heart started to soften more and more at every encounter you two had.

maybe it was because of the countless amounts of milk bread you would prepare for him which made tooru question if you were making it with the intent of seeing him (probably not). sure, all the chefs and maids in the palace prepared the most luxurious food for him but it just felt the same with every meal but it was somehow different with you.

maybe it was because of the uplifting conversations you would have, where you both could voice your thoughts and opinions on a variety of subjects with no worries of being judged. tooru swore at himself, wondering what he'd gotten himself into and yet he still consciously ventured further, wanting to learn more about you, other than you being a baker's daughter. you didn't know his true identity and yet you were so thoughtful towards him.

although, it felt selfish as he couldn't truthfully tell you his identity, he continued to pursue a growing friendship whilst walking home with a guilty heart each time he saw you. he was addicted. now that he was turning eighteen, tooru couldn’t hide it any longer. he had to tell you, one way or another. before it was too late and before he’d have to go back to the life he had without you. a boring, uneventful life.

--- ⁠✧

“why didn't i sleep early last night?” you questioned yourself, yawning for what felt like the hundredth time.

honestly, you stayed up last night because you knew it was tooru's birthday tomorrow and you were crocheting a scarf for the first time, even though it was the middle of summer. you couldn’t just bring him to the meadow and eat ice cream and milk bread all day like all the other years you spent celebrating his birthday. no, it had to be something different, something that no one else could give him and something that you've never done before especially since he was now getting to the age of marriage.

you were in the middle of putting the classic milk bread that you’d make for tooru in the oven when you heard the ring of the doorbell as it opened. you didn’t recognise the person making his way towards you but he looked oddly familiar.

with another yawn you groggily said,”hello welcome to shokupan, what can i get for you?”

“uh- y/n?” he spoke, as if he was confused.

you lazily smiled and looked up to the man, “yup that’s me, what can i-,” it was only then that you realised that this stranger knew your name and only then you realised who exactly it was.

your tired eyes quickly shot open, as if you got electrocuted. it was tooru, but he was dressed so magnificently. a bright, shining suit adorned his figure; gold shoulder pads showing off his broad shoulders; perfectly combed hair that would usually be messy and unkempt.

"t-tooru?" you whispered, wondering if you were still dreaming. was this really your tooru?

he chuckled,"yes n/n, it's really me," whilst sarcastically posing for you. however, you couldn't respond. you were speechless.

"y/n? are you okay?" tooru asked, concerned but also amused at your unresponsive state.

as tooru's words went in one ear and out the other you got out of your tranced state and started firing questions at tooru, "why are you dressed like that? where'd you get the money? did you loan the money? tooru you can't use all your savings on a suit, what about food?"

tooru couldn't contain his laughter any longer and bursted out laughing.

"what's so funny about spending all your money on something you don't even need?!" you exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to make sense of tooru's actions.

as tooru's laugh died down, he gazed at you with a smug smile.

"i told you before that one day i'd show you that i'm a prince and that you'd never believe me. so here i am y/n, prince tooru of the oikawa family, inviting you to attend a ball tomorrow to celebrate my birthday," he gracefully bowed down whilst holding out an envelope towards you which you hesitantly took from him.

carefully, you observed the envelope, wondering if tooru was actually a prince or if he was just playing one of his silly games on you again. you knew your answer as soon as you flipt the envelope to shockingly fix your eyes on the royal seal, a four leaf clover crest. anybody could recognise as the city was adorned with the symbol. in disbelief, you lifted your head to tooru with wide eyes.

“you…” you started, trying to comprehend everything with your already jumbled mind.

“i’m?” tooru replied, anxious to see your reaction.

“you’re a prince,” you whispered, not believing your own words.

slowly, the cogs were starting to work in your brain, the pieces of the puzzle were connecting. why haven't you noticed? tooru always implied it even in your first encounter. there were many other reasons too on why he’d be a prince; he always had to leave early or he was late; the amount of times you’ve patched him up without you knowing that it was because of his swordsmanship lessons last year; the way he was able to read sophisticated words and write with very neat handwriting, which commoners couldn't do simply because they didn't have the money for the education; the way he never showed you where he lived or where he was from; the way he never talked about himself during your conversations. it all made sense and yet you were too dense to even realise it. you were angry and disappointed with yourself.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you questioned, wondering if he thought of you as a person who couldn't be trusted.

“well, i guess i just…” he paused and took a breath in.

“i was scared, y/n. maybe even terrified, that you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore or that you’d hate me, and i completely understand if you do now because i just basically lied to you throughout our whole friendship which is so stupid and idiotic of me and i’m so, so sorry y/n. i cherish you so much and i don't want to lose you, so please don't ever think that i never trusted you because i do, wholeheartedly.”

tooru finished and waited for you to talk or say anything, but you just stared at him in disbelief.

"y/n, please say something," tooru pleaded, his fist tightening against his chest as he grew more anxious.

"does your father know?" you asked.

"what? of course not he'd go crazy if he did-"

"oh my god tooru, you're unbelievable," you muttered, with your fingers pressing on your temple.

"what? y/n i just told you why i didn't want to reveal my identity, you know my father would go crazy if he found out i was sneaking away," tooru reasoned, trying to calm down the situation by reaching out for your hand but you slapped it away, still not comprehending the situation.

"yes tooru, and i understand that, if you weren't a prince. this completely changes everything, you know that right? what if someone saw us and reported it to your father? you'd be in great trouble and don't even get me started on how i'd probably be the talk of the city. a laughing stock. i mean, a commoner being friends with a prince? ha! how ridiculous," you rambled, looking away and staring down at your feet.

"y/n, look at me," tooru softly asked, gently lifting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. your breath hitched as he stared right at you, as if he could read your every thought.

"it doesn't matter if i'm a prince or if you're a commoner. even if my father finds out, I won't let any harm come to you. i'll do everything in my power to make sure you're safe."

"tooru-"

"i'm not done. just because you're a 'commoner' doesn't mean you aren’t worth anything less. you're y/n, my y/n and that's all that matters. i don't care about titles. fuck being a prince, it doesn't matter as long as i'm with you. as long as you're here."

you both became silent as tooru awaited a response and you were still processing what he just confessed to you. tooru sighed and let go of you, turning away and hiding his face from you, embarrassed at himself.

"tooru," you started, still finding the right words to say to him.

"if i have to be honest, i'm disappointed not only in you but for myself. it feels as if you just used me as a way to escape from your own life. i really, really enjoy your company tooru and you made my life so much more exciting and enjoyable, and even thinking about what we’d have in plan to do helped me get out of bed in the morning but now, i do not know what to think anymore. not only that, but the fact that you’ve hinted at it all this time and yet i was too dumb to even realise it. was this all a joke to you?" you questioned, your chest tightening at your own words, hoping he’d contradict with you.

“y/n…none of this was ever a joke and i can’t even truly express my gratitude to your very own existence with just simple minded words. from our first encounter to even now, the only person i’ve wanted to see was you. you’ve never once left my mind,” his eyes softened before his mouth came to a fine line, you could physically see his lips quiver as he awaited your response.

you finally let go of the breath you’ve unconsciously been holding and came face to face with the boy who made you feel an array of emotions that you couldn’t comprehend and simply gave him a gentle hug, with your head resting on his chest hearing his quickened heartbeat drumming in your ear.

with an awkward smile you looked up to him,”you really are scared huh?”

“god y/n, you have no idea how many times i was planning on telling you, but i would just end up getting lost in the moment and keep putting it off, until now, i really thought i screwed things up,” tooru frantically explained, letting out a sigh of relief.

although, to his horror you pierced his ears, saying, "you kind of did."

the atmosphere shifted to a chilling silence, with tooru’s bug eyed expression processing the words that you just announced and you fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“what?” tooru meekly asked, needing affirmation.

”look tooru, even if we remain as friends and keep meeting up, we’ll never go back to normal. you have to understand that. even if titles don't matter to you, they matter to everyone else. in their eyes, i’ll always be a ‘lowly’ commoner and you will always be a prince, hell maybe even king!”

“don’t you dare say that about me, i will never be king nor will i ever want to,” tooru defended, slightly raising his voice over the sensitive subject but that didn’t stop you from continuing.

“come to terms with reality tooru, this isn’t some fairy tale where i randomly get gifted a fairy godmother for christ sake. sure, it was okay when you were younger but now, really? you’re turning eighteen tomorrow, you can’t just keep skipping out on your duties as a prince,” you continued, pleading with him to see your point of view.

tooru scoffed, ”what do you know about being a prince? you’d never understand how shit i felt every time i get told off for every little mistake i made and how i know everyone secretly wished my mother survived instead of me.”

you stood still with a withering expression, your mouth parted and heart clenched with tears pricking your eyes. he never talked about this before.

“tooru, i didn’t know-”

“i was suffocating in there y/n, and you were the only one that made me feel like i wasn’t drowning with responsibilities and yet now i’m getting reminded of it again by the only person i could rely on,” he painfully expressed, solemnly looking at you, catching your watered eyes.

alas you stood your ground,

“well, as the person that you can rely on, i'm only telling you this for your own sake tooru, and yes i’m not a prince and i’m sure as hell not educated enough to understand what a prince does. however, i do know that you’ll have to get married soon now that you’re turning eighteen and i can’t keep distracting you tooru and you can’t keep running away. you’re going to have many people wanting to speak with you and important meetings to attend and you won’t have time to see me. we both know that,” your heart breaks at your own words.

tooru stood still with a pained expression. he couldn't argue with you, knowing that everything you said was true.

“wake up tooru. we aren’t fifteen anymore.”

silently, tooru sets down a wrapped box on an empty table and walks to the door without a word. all you could do was watch his doleful figure. before he stepped out into the street he stared at you without his warm brown eyes with a disappointed smile and said, ”you’re still invited you know? i already booked a carriage for you, so please come.”

The ring of the doorbell came at last, indicating his presence was gone and with that you burst out in tears with you crouching down against the counter recalling the argument between you two. were you too harsh? did you even consider tooru’s side? were you being insensitive? all these questions left your mind swirling like a spinning wheel to the point where you just laid lifeless with stinging eyes from all the salty tears.

finally finding the strength to get up, you dust yourself off the floor and spotted the clean and elegant box tooru left for you. carefully, you raised the lid upwards and you gasped surprised. sitting in the box before you was the most luxurious dress you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. sophisticated patterns adorned the purple gown with numerous delicate jewels stitched on, where if one was sold you’d no longer be a baker but instead living more comfortably.

“i’ve never seen a gown this shade before,” you astonishingly admitted, surveying the gown in your hand gently touching the rich fabric. unbeknownst to you the shade was specifically tyrian purple, a shade only the royal family wore.

peering inside you see a little rectangle note. you delicately placed the gown down on the table and opened the note.

“you’re royalty too.”

slightly grinning at the sentence you let out a light hearted sigh, letting it convince your tender heart.

“i guess i’ll be going to a ball tomorrow.”

..·:*¨༺ ♚ ༻¨*:·.

it was the day that everyone anticipated for and yet tooru wasn’t excited at all. he lost sight of all hope as of yesterday, after the argument he had with you. even his best friend iwaizumi hajime tried comforting him, in his own unique way.

“oi, it’s your own birthday try to lighten up. you look like a rotting zombie,” he pointed out.

tooru gave iwaizumi a sour look at him and miserably said, ”she isn't coming so what’s the point?”

“she? oh, you mean y/n?” iwaizumi asked, tooru gave a small nod.

“she’ll have to come, you prepared a gown and a carriage for her. how could she refuse? won’t most girls like that?”

“maybe the fact that i screwed everything over plays a major part,” tooru explained.

iwaizumi gave a puzzled look to tooru, clearly not informed of the events that happened yesterday morning. with a heavy sigh, tooru began to catch up with iwa on the unfortunate argument that occurred.

“oh i see now.”

“yeah, you’d think she’d still come?”

“after what you did? no way. i reckon it’ll take a miracle for her to attend,” iwaizumi blatantly replied, making tooru hopeless as he let out another heavy sigh with a blank stare at the floor.

“but, you’ll never know tooru. miracles can happen,” with that iwaizumi stood up from the cold cobblestone step and gave tooru a pat in the back, his steps echoing behind tooru as he continued to remain alone with his thoughts.

don’t lose hope, he thought.

it was definitely easier said than done.

--- ⁠✧

thankfully, you weren’t alone while you were getting dolled up. your trusted friend yachi was here to help. you were fortunate enough for her to stumble upon your bakery as a middle class girl visiting the city and you both instantly connected, although you both barely saw each other as she lived outside the city but you both kept in contact with letters. as of now you both were struggling on putting on the corset.

“y/n you have to breathe in just a little bit more so i can tighten the corset fully!” yachi exclaimed, while tugging the strings to the best of her ability.

“i know yachi i’m trying my hardest!” you cried out, in pain from holding your breath in for so long.

“and…done!” yachi cheered, clapping her hands.

“how can girls wear these things everyday? i’m about to pass out,” you said, exhausted already trying to reach for a chair.

“wait y/n we aren’t done yet, you have to put the petticoat on and then the actual gown,” yachi explained, encouraging you to keep standing.

with a groan you got up and yachi assembled the gown with a blink of an eye.

“oh my god y/n you look so pretty!” yachi praised, admiring you with stars in her eyes.

you bashfully smiled at her and asked,”you really think so?”

“you’ve always been pretty y/n, oh i’ve got something for you,” she said, going into her purse to fetch an object of some sort.

“what is it?” you aksed, curious of what she prepared.

yachi hid the object with both her hands behind her back sneakily and began by saying,”well, in the letter you said that you had been given a purple gown…”

“so..?” you questioned, urging her to continue.

“so i thought i’d glamour you even more,” she explained before showing you a white sapphire necklace with a wide smile. you stared at it, mesmerised by the sheer shine it gave.

“what do you think?” yachi asked, lifting up the necklace.

“i-it’s gorgeous yachi. are you sure i’m allowed to wear it? where did you get it in the first place?” you said in disbelief while yachi laughed at you with your gaze transfixed on the necklace.

“of course you can wear it, that’s the whole reason why i brought it anyway and don’t worry about where i got it from, just be excited to wear it,” she said with a mischievous giggle that worried you, and before you could even reject her offer she was already putting it on you.

thinking you were finished you went to sit down but to your dismay yachi was in front of you holding hair pins and a comb with an ecstatic expression.

“we’re only getting started y/n!”

you nervously gulped, getting ready for the amount of pain you were about to go through.

--- ⁠✧

chatter filled the ballroom as it continued to fill up with hundreds of guests from around the nation. tooru was trying his best to answer all the questions from all of the women surrounding him in a polite manner. although, they all were obviously there for two main reasons: status and power, as they wave their fans at him with a leering expression. however, he was solely looking for a certain someone to walk through the grand doors and for a certain someone to apologise to.

“do you have someone already in mind prince tooru?” one of the ladies asked which made the rest of them quiet, anticipating tooru’s answer.

he knew he couldn’t say yes without upsetting them all and causing a scene so he chuckled and declared, ”no, i don’t. not yet,” which caused them to erupt in ‘oohs’ and giggles, clearly glad with tooru’s response and the chance they all had to court him. although he knew in his mind that he definitely had someone he wanted to court himself.

unfortunately, that certain someone was running late. the carriage was already patiently waiting outside the bakery when you were trying to find the invitation tooru gave you yesterday but you somehow lost it. if it wasn’t for yachi’s help you probably wouldn’t have made it out the front door.

“have fun y/n! don’t forget to say yes when the prince asks for your hand in marriage!” yachi shouted to you in a cheery tone.

“oh be quiet yachi,” you jokingly said, your face heating up at her joke, embarrassed.

“i’m so sorry i’m late, i just couldn’t seem to find the invitation,” you explained to the coachman who gave you a small nod whilst helping you into the carriage.

you’ve never been in a carriage before but you’ve seen many travel back and forth from the palace at the city centre. you’ve always been in awe of them and dreamt of being in one someday and here you are now, admiring it in all its beauty. in contrast to the outside it was much smaller than you’d imagine but the seats were very comfortable for your already sore feet as they weren’t used to high-heeled shoes you were wearing.

i wonder what tooru would think.

--- ⁠✧

it was getting further into the night and there was still no sight of you. tooru looked over to iwaizumi who was trying to communicate to tooru.

“is she here yet?” mouthed iwaizumi, as he stared at tooru still being bombarded with women.

tooru gave him a frown and shook his head. were you ever going to show up?

it was time for the first dance as the string orchestra began playing a waltz for the guests and tooru to dance to. he immediately had a line of ladies encouraging him to dance with them until one troublesome women decided to ‘accidentally’ trip into tooru’s arm into a dramatic pose that wasn’t impressive, but before he could ask if she was alright the orchestra suddenly stopped playing at the sound of the grand doors abruptly opening and everyone’s attention was averted.

“y/n, from the l/n family!” declared the attendee.

as you slowly emerged and came into everyone’s view. they all gasped and started murmuring to each other at the site of the colour of your gown.

“does this girl not have any idea what crime she’s committing?”

“she’s clearly mocking the royal family, how disrespectful!”

“who does she think she is?”

“i’ve never seen her before.”

fortunately, you couldn’t hear them as you were trying your best not to trip as you descended down the flight of steps, holding onto the railing for dear life, but you could feel all the judgemental stares they were giving you in the corner of your eye.

tooru’s heart began pounding in his chest as he saw your descending figure. muttering a quick,”i’m sorry,” to the woman he caught and helped her onto her feet and swiftly began to approach you with haste. he couldn’t let this chance slip from his fingers. not when he has a million things on his mind to say to you.

finally, you stepped down onto the polished marble floor and let out a sigh of relief and glanced up to find a pair of familiar brown eyes with a million hues, belonging to the man of the night, growing larger until they were right in front of you. not once did your eyes break contact with his.

“you made it,” he gawked, astonished at your arivial.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you beamed at him, forgetting how much you’ve wanted to see him again.

he bowed down. “would you grant me the greatest honour of joining me for my first dance of the night? only if you can handle it,” he teases, thrilled to be in the presence of you.

“you may, only if you can handle having your toes stepped on,” you tease back whilst curtseying, causing the both of you to erupt in laughter.

as tooru led you to the dance floor, all eyes were on you both as the orchestra began to play a waltz again. realising how nervous you must be, tooru gently placed his hand on your waist and held your hard reassuringly.

“just focus on me y/n. let me lead you.” you nodded, trusting in tooru to guide your inexperienced self.

tooru was true to his word as you both glided gracefully around the dance floor. he led you effortlessly, not even flinching when you would accidentally step on his foot for a brief moment. he just kept smiling at you with his gaze transfixed on your face. you couldn’t help but feel bashful.

“you look breathtaking,” tooru began, causing your face to heat up from his compliment.

“oh stop it tooru, you don’t have to say things you don’t mean,” you said, smiling down, still grateful for the compliment.

“it’s true y/n,” tooru affirmed, looking at you with a caring gaze that sent your stomach into a whirlwind.

“well, thank you. you don’t look bad yourself,” you admitted, wanting to compliment him too.

“of course, i am a prince after all,” he jokingly said, making you chuckle.

“did you plan this? us wearing matching colours,” you asked, realising the way he had the exact same shade of purple on his suit as your gown.

“and what if i did? it’s all part of my master plan,” he replied.

“your master plan of what?” you wondered, curious on what he was planning.

“you’ll see~” he retorted, causing you to sarcastically roll your eyes.

you both continued to dance in a comfortable silence until tooru abruptly broke it when he cleared his throat, getting ready to speak.

“i’m sorry y/n, for everything. i’m sorry for the lies i’ve told you about why i was always late to our meetups and why i was always getting bruises and cuts. i’m sorry for not opening up about my life sooner like you did, that wasn’t fair for you and i’m truly sorry for being the reason you cried,” he apologised.

“you saw me?” you asked, surprised that he knew.

he smiled and gazed at you,”how could i leave without taking one last glance at you,”

his words had a way of lifting an invisible weight off your chest. it felt surreal. the way he was able to enchant you with a few meek words that anyone could say, but he had his own unique charm that made you euphoric.

with a pause, tooru closed his eyes for a second, getting ready to say something.

“y/n…i-“

“tooru.”

a sudden rough, deep voice caused both of you to stop dancing and turn to see what you assumed to be tooru’s father. his demeanour sent chills down your spine as he looked at you with a stone cold expression. tooru looked irritated and turned around to face the king with a serious face as if he just switched personalities.

“father,” tooru said, in an expectant tone.

“come with me,” he demanded, turning around with his royal cloak following as it fluttered in the air.

tooru gave his father a small nod, his palms starting to become mildly sweaty. before he followed his father, he promptly turned around and held both of your shoulders and whispered,”there’s a side door near the back of the hall, exit from there and you’ll see a small stone shelter. go there and wait for me. i’ll try to be quick.”

the smell of a faint rosemary scent grew stronger as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your skin and an unexpected warmth resided on your cheek. with that he left, with you looking at his figure slowly fading away. you placed a hand to your left cheek where he laid his soft lips and rigidly exhaled. you’re full of surprises tooru, you thought.

you made haste, trying to ignore all the eyes that were on you. to your demise the same girl that tooru caught stood in your way, not moving an inch.

“excuse me ma’am, i have to get through,” you politely asked, starting to become impatient.

"you're not royalty," she accused, looking at you up and down.

"what?" you asked confused, just wanting to get out of the hall.

"you're clearly not royalty. your manners are ridiculous and you certainly don't know when to be on time, you attention seeker," she taunted, causing the crowd around you to gasp and snicker at her accusation.

to say you were peeved was an understatement. she irked you in a way no one has before. her voice was like a nagging child throwing a tantrum. it made your ears bleed. you wanted to grab her fake hair and strangle it around her neck. you would’ve if you had the chance. alas you sadly had to remain calm and collected.

“you’re just being hypocritical, miss. i’m sure everyone here saw the way you desperately threw yourself at the prince,” you retorted with a smile. the woman’s cocky expression quickly dropped to a glare.

“you lowly bitc-”

“i think that’s enough lady ayame,” iwaizumi cut in, his words silencing the crowd as he stepped out into the open.

you turned around to see the owner of the unfamiliar voice walking towards the two of you. he stopped and looked down upon the ayame with cold eyes.

“l-lieutenant iwaizumi,” she cowardly said in fear, curtseying while avoiding his gaze.

he then turned to you. you slightly jumped, scared that he’d glare at you too for causing a commotion. you were frozen in place.

“see lieutenant, she isn’t even showing her manners towards you!” ayame pointed out, trying to justify her actions.

iwaizumi didn’t bother wasting his time by talking to her. instead he raised his hand in a way to silence her in which she immediately stopped talking as he kept his eyes on you. at this point you were sweating bricks, trying to not move an inch. this isn’t what i was signing up for.

“go,” he sternly said, nudging his head to the direction of the door.

all you could reply with was a nod then you grabbed a handful of your gown and ran out, not daring to look back. i’ll have to thank him later, i almost got into a cat fight.

you were amazed at the scenery in front of you when you frantically left the hall. you suspected it to be the royal garden. you stepped down onto the footpath, hearing the therapeutic sound of flowing water from the fountain surrounded by an abundance of radiant flowers. from the dim street lights illuminating the garden, to the warm summer breeze brushing against your skin you felt ethereal and nostalgic at the same time. finally, you entered the stone shelter, still admiring the scenery in front of you as you patiently waited for tooru to arrive.

--- ⁠✧

it must've been more than five minutes now and slowly the rain droplets began pattering against the cobblestone paths and yet it wasn’t cold at all. the summer night prevented it. you hated the humid air as it clung onto your skin, feeling sticky.

you speculated on what kept tooru so back. did his father need to talk to him about an important matter that they had to speak about in private? a thousand questions began to swirl in your mind as you started to worry.

in deep thought, you saw a tall figure approaching through the heavy rain. you stood up, squinting to make out who it was. it was tooru. you immediately started shouting his name whilst waving your hand, encouraging him to run faster. you couldn’t help but beam at his presence, excited to what he was going to tell you. he stood in front of you panting, his hair covering half his face as water dripped from his hair and clothes. he shook his hair like a dog, trying to dry himself. you screamed as you tried to backed away from the water droplets attacking you while tooru evilly laughed trying to get closer to you.

“ugh, tooru get away from me!” you shouted with a light hearted laugh, running around in circles from the small space of the shelter.

tooru laughed in response, catching you from behind with a hug. immediately, your gown started getting wet. you tried hitting his arms so he would let go but he didn’t budge.

“come on tooru, let go of me!” you whined, attempting to pry his arms open.

“hmm, i don’t think i will,” he teased, resting his head on your shoulder.

you huffed and roughly turned yourself around so you could see him, and lifted his damp hair up trying to clearly see his face until you saw a harsh red mark on his cheek. your lips parted at the realisation of why he took so long and cupped his face. this time he didn't flinch or back away.

“tooru…” you painfully started. how could he just stand there and smile at you?

“yes y/n?” he asked, gazing at you with a warm smile, not bothering to hide what you saw.

not finding any words to reply with, you just gave him a warm embrace to which he accepted. you cried deeply inside. why did you always have to see him bruised and battered?

“you don’t deserve this tooru,” you sighed.

“don’t worry about it y/n,” tooru reassuringly replied, stroking your hair.

“ it’s all my fault,” you began.

“if i hadn’t showed up none of this would’ve happened. you would still be in the hall celebrating your birthday, having the time of your life with everyone. but instead you’re stuck with me and now your reputation is most likely ruined. i mean, did you see everyone ogling us? they definitely didn’t enjoy seeing me dance with you,” you concluded with a heavy heart.

“if the world were to suddenly end in the next minute, i wouldn’t regret being stuck with you,” he professed. you couldn’t help but let out a breath of unbelief, marvelled at his statement.

“well tooru, as the next heir wouldn’t you think that you should be spending your time wisely?” you sarcastically asked, eyebrows dramatically raised trying to make him laugh.

“well y/n, i’d be glad to tell you that i’m not the heir to the throne anymore,” he retorted, mocking the same face you made to him.

“yeah sure tooru, nice joke,” you rolled your eyes at him smirking but he kept a straight face.

“that wasn’t a joke y/n,” he claimed, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“you’re pulling my leg,” you said dumbfounded.

tooru hysterically laughed at your expression while you stood there wide eyed.

“tooru, please tell me i heard that correctly,” you asked, wanting affirmation on the words you processed.

“what do you think i said?” he teased smirking at you.

“i think you’re lying,” you retorted.

“and why would i ever lie about that?” he asked, enjoying your flabbergasted state.

“y-you’re really not lying?” you questioned, not wanting to fall for another joke. tooru gave you an honest smile. you knew he wasn’t lying anymore.

“holy shit,” you swore out of disbelief. tooru laughed at your reaction.

“is that how you got that?” you pointing to his cheek, looking at him with empathy.

“maybe,” he teased.

“I’m being serious tooru,” you sternly said, having enough with his antics.

he sighed,”well, father called me out to talk about you first and foremost. he scolded me about inviting you and giving you that gown but i didn’t care. that wasn’t the reason why he did this though. i said that i didn’t want to be king and that i was going to leave the palace to join the army like iwaizumi and was the result,” he bashfully said scratching the back of his head.

“does this mean you’re no longer a prince?” you wondered.

“i still am by blood. i'm just not going to be king. i never intended to stay anyway,” he explained.

"then who's going to step up in your place?"

"that's where my sister came in and explained how she's already prepared to be a queen since she's older than me and smarter too. father just never shown her favour because of mother. he wanted her to live a calm and peaceful life. it's quite a twist of events that all came out to my fortune," he smiled to himself, thankful his sister stepped in for him.

"i wish i met your sister," you said, thinking of her as a role model already.

"you really wouldn't. she gets mad at me all the time for the littlest things," he grumbled, remembering all the times he got scolded by her.

"i can understand why, you are like an annoying little pest," you teased with a giggl, to which tooru pouted and whined.

as the two of you died down, a comfortable silence took over as you two listened to the pitter patters of the ongoing rain. i've missed this. what a coincidence that you both thought it at the same time. tooru looked over to your calm figure as you gazed out onto the garden.

"y/n?" tooru called, seeking your attention.

"mhm?" you responded, turning around to face him. he was closer than before.

"remember before i left, I wanted to say something to you?" he asked nervously.

"hmm, oh yeah, you were about to say something to me. what was it?" you recalled, curious onto what he was going to say.

"well, the sole reason i wanted to be a knight was because i couldn't protect my mum. of course no one was able to save her, but the burden and guilt that was left held me accountable from my perspective. it has always been my goal to protect everyone i love," he stopped, catching his breath. you gave him a nod, motioning him to continue.

"y/n, my heart aches everytime we depart. every goodbye you say to me makes me want to come running back to you. every lingering touch made me yearn more from you. i only experience the goodness of life through every second i get with you. truth be told when i say i live now to serve you," he expressed, pouring his heart and soul into every word he said.

"w-what are you getting at tooru?" you hesitantly ask, your heart racing for an answer.

"i love you, y/n. i'm not trying to force you to love me. i just…" he momentarily paused gathering his thoughts before continuing, "i won't ask you to love me, so please just give me permission to love you."

you had the utmost authority right now. he was pleading to you. he loves you. with all these realisations, you stood there, opposite a lovesick tooth, filled to the max with mixed emotions. good ones, where one of which swayed you to leaped into tooru's arms as you held him tightly close.

"is this a yes?" tooru asked with a grin as he gazed at you longingly.

what followed, your weren't entirely too sure. your brain fogged as the proximity between the two of you came to a close. tooru's soft, puckered lips collided gently against yours. you both could exhaled at the contact, releasing all your tensions as the world came to a stop for both of you. sparks of joy leaped from tooru's chest as he cherished the moment. this was his reward for waiting so patiently for you. the strong scent of rosemary intoxicated your lungs as you breathed him in. your hands found its way to his hair, your fingers carding through his locks. you were each others addiction, craving for more, not letting go until you were both satisfied. pulling away, you both took deep breaths whilst gazing at each other fondly. tooru still holding you close.

"that was…" tooru began between small breaths.

"amazing," you finished, a wide smile forming on your heated face.

"of course it was, aren't i a great kisser?" tooru praised, returning back to his charming self.

"oh stop it," you rolled your eyes as you tried to turn away from him.

"look at you becoming shy because of me," he teased, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you towards the rain. you decided to just let him take you, knowing you wouldn't have enough strength to defy him.

"i've always wanted to do this with you," he shouted through the booming sound of rain.

"do what?" you shouted back, trying to block the rain from your view with your hand.

he took your hand and placed it on his shoulder, intertwining his remaining hand with yours. a familiar scene playing out again. instead, this time you both looked ridiculous. clothes soaking wet that whenever tooru would twirl you around your gown would project droplets of water like an umbrella. but you both didn't care. laughing carefree, acting childish, knowing you'd be sick the next day and yet you both had no regrets. the rain began to disperse and you both came to stop, finally tired from all the dancing.

smiling up at him you greeted, "happy birthday tooru," before pulling on his collar and giving him one final peck on his soft pillowy lips, as the summer breeze flowed by and the cicadas buzzed in the trees.

it didn't feel real. it felt heavenly.

#haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #oikawa torū #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa #tooru #royal au #*⁠.⁠✧ " it's not real

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aiiku · 1 year

Text

why do we close our eyes when wishing on a star?

oikawa tooru x fem reader

word count 10,038

synopsis you’re going to be the death of oikawa. he can’t think of a better way to go.

tags she/her pronouns used, crime lord! oikawa but this is light-hearted i promise, exes to lovers, my attempt at a romcom, fluff, slow burn-ish, mutual pining (so much of it. oikawa’s needy.), crime au/ non-canonverse.

notes @blueparadis hello! it’s me, your secret cupid from @suyacho’s event! i’m sorry for being so late, but i hope you enjoy reading this <3 inspired by +this! and here’s a +fic tag! happy reading :+) !!

Maybe 7 in the morning isn't the best time to vent out his childish woes, but Oikawa believes complaining is a healthy outlet and that there's no time like the present.

So the nudging on Iwaizumi's arm and the ringing in Matsukawa's ears follows naturally, expectedly. A lifetime together has made their nerves accustomed to his grating.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa whines, crossing his arms over his chest. The glare he directs at the television is far from kind, but none of the men in the room can take him seriously when he follows up with, "They really couldn't have used a better picture of me? This is broadcast nation-wide — nation-wide, Iwa-chan! And now everyone's going to think I'm some hotshot crime lord who can't do something as simple as his hair." In true Oikawa fashion, he completes his tirade with a flourish of sweeping arms, falling back onto the sofa with theatrics fit for The Globe. "Why is life so cruel?"

Three men share one look as Oikawa huffs, uttering curses to his coffered ceiling. Matsukawa shrugs, Hanamaki grins, and Iwaizumi's left to sigh. A lifetime together has made a fickle thing of their patience.

"Are you done with your tantrum now?"

"Not yet." Oikawa pouts.

He stares at the beams above, gorgeous, luxurious and, most importantly, neat — everything his windswept hair wasn't in the morning news. The police must have better pictures of him, so it's just downright mean of them to not use those instead. Aren't they supposed to be good, upstanding citizens of the law? This is practically defamation.

"If you're that mad over the pictures, you could turn yourself in and let them take better ones," Hanamaki suggests.

"Or stop fussing over nothing, Idiot-kawa," Iwaizumi says (and is promptly ignored).

"Or send them a little portfolio to choose from next time," Matsukawa adds. Oikawa sits up at that.

"Or stop being an idiot, Stupid-kawa." (Iwaizumi is ignored once again.)

"That's not a bad idea," Oikawa says, turning to the nicer two of his friends. "Post or email?"

Three men share one look as Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, dropping his head to his hands and wondering where it all went wrong for him.

"Definitely post," Matsukawa says. Hanamaki nods in agreement.

"Perfect!" Oikawa grins before turning to Iwaizumi. "Stop frowning so much, Iwa-chan, you're too young to have so many wrinkles." Iwaizumi's brows pinch together more, rigid even when Oikawa tries to iron out the creases with an incessant finger. They barely let up when Oikawa gives the good news. "I'm done throwing my tantrum now."

"Finally," Iwaizumi breathes out in relief. He bats Oikawa's hand away, sitting up straighter. "I spoke to Yahaba earlier and he said all's still good on his end. How long do you want to wait before moving the money?"

The television is background noise as they begin talking business as usual. Stay low while the heist is fresh and law enforcement are on alert, act like everything is fine — because it is fine, Oikawa tells himself. It's business as usual. He runs a hand through his hair, fixing it up, making it a bigger mess, he doesn't really know now. His phone burns a hole through his pocket despite its silence.

He listens as Matsukawa talks about some low-level dealings on the border of his territory, and tells Hanamaki to get a couple guys together to investigate whether it poses a real threat or not. He lies down again and looks to the panels above for help.

The news is louder now as it finishes with another reminder of what his team had managed to pull off: a broad daylight robbery of one of Japan's most prominent banks. Operation Get rid of those Monday blues, Oikawa had dubbed it. The heist that'll do us in, Iwaizumi had claimed it to be, right before discussing escape routes. Either way, it'll be the talk for weeks to come and Oikawa's proud of it all, but that image of him flashes back on the screen.

His phone rings in his pocket.

The words 'possible suspect' and 'do not engage' roll onto the screen, and he hears the reporter say something about that warrant out for him, to exert caution and report any sightings of him. Stay far, far away.

Nothing about his ringtone says being wary. His thigh twitches against the vibrations, like they're pushing his muscles alive, forcing his body to move. There are only two people outside of this room who have this number and his sister has long since cut contact with him. He doesn't think this will be the family bonding moment he dreams of which leaves only one other person: someone who he really should not be getting involved with again.

It's a possibility he saw coming when his team came back yesterday, but not one he has prepared himself for beyond pretending like you've called the wrong number.

The ringing continues and he sighs — there's no relief found in delaying the inevitable.

"Thought you blocked her number," Iwaizumi comments.

Suddenly, he's freshly graduated and on his old bed, hovering on a contact page he needs to delete. The profile image is blurry to him, but he knows the pink of that tongue sticking out better than anyone. He knows the bark in the background isn't from any in the City of Trees, it's from the one closest to that blue streetlamp in Tsutsujigaoka park where you said you were tired and he thought the sunlight had fought through layers of foliage just for you.

He can't do it.

He's back on a fine leather sofa and he's grown older, a little taller, but not much stronger when it comes to letting go. He couldn't do it then and his fingers itch to move, but he can't do it now, either. He's still that same boy who cried himself to sleep that night, still that same boy who knows your number off by heart, even though he hasn't seen it in years.

He hums noncommittally.

"You're not gonna answer?" Hanamaki asks.

He lets the ringing play out, turning to his friend with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, that'd be risky, don't you think?"

Hanamaki snorts. "When have you ever played it safe?"

The answer to that is obvious, and it makes his lips curl into a frown when the music finally ends.

He's about to brush off his knees and find an envelope — going through with that postal plan is stupid, but at least it'll get his mind off of things for a while (that isn't long enough) — when his phone buzzes.

He ignores it, dusting off his pants and standing.

"Get Watari to take over for Yahaba," he says to Iwaizumi before facing the other two. "Take some men to check out that group and get Kunimi involved, will you? He's so pale, it scares me." He plasters on an exaggerated pout as if everything's okay, as if there isn't a weight rooting him to his place, begging him to ease its burden. He stands on the tip of his toes and falls back on his heels, heavy, weightless, wanting. "And try to avoid starting another turf war, please?"

When he's in his private office, he slumps into his chair and looks every bit the unkempt crime lord the news had shown him to be. He tugs his hair and groans, finally away from any judgemental eyes (Iwaizumi's).

Really, he doesn't know why his picture was broadcasted this morning because, as carefree as he lets himself be, he was loud and proud in promoting his alibi for this robbery. Hotel conferences are always so conveniently publicised. Even though he was behind it all, the police have no proof of it, so they shouldn't have gone to the media with these absurd, unproven, theoretically-unjust-but-truthfully-spot-on accusations. They couldn't have done so without consequences, and maybe the only positive to come out of this situation is that someone on the opposite side will be made just as miserable as him.

It doesn't feel like much of a win because his picture is still out there. Your message is still tucked away in his notifications, unread.

His phone sits on his desk, entirely unaware of the turmoil it causes. It lights up, gloating, and buzzes just to rub it in his face some more. And he's a fool to his own emotions, springing up in his seat in an instant.

Not utterly weak, he waits three whole seconds, tapping at the foot of his chair, digging into the arm rests to show restraint, before he pounces on his phone to see what's new.

He throws it back down carelessly when he sees it's a message from Matsukawa.

They say time heals all wounds, but Oikawa thinks it makes you empty. There's no such thing as healing when summer makes your scars itch, and winter has you lonely and crying all over again. Time is cruel because the body never forgets what has happened to it. Hitting his palm on his forehead does nothing to knock sense into himself, but at least it gives him a different type of pain to focus on. Surface wounds are so much easier to deal with than those aches that rot you down to the bone, making you brittle with yearning.

His hand strikes himself one last time.

The heat of it all pushes against his skull, like a dead man clawing out of his own coffin. It's heavy. No one talks about how hard it is to dig your own grave and jump into it. He watches his own hand shake but it's numb to him, light. The phone is a nail in his sweaty palm, splinters under his fingernails. No one talks about how ugly it is to keep the dead down.

He almost doesn't want to open the message — a lie.

He'll open it but not reply. Because it's better this way. Because it's all he knows how to do. Another lie.

The notification tells him it's a message, but doesn't give him anything more. It's cruel, like the police, like the smarting of his forehead, like he is to himself. He hopes it's a picture of you, but he knows better because there's no logical reason for you to be sending him pictures of yourself anymore. He can only ever see your face late at night, when he's torturing himself and taking a reprieve from another failed escape attempt and looking through pictures he'd sworn to delete. (It's not a lie if I had my fingers crossed, Iwa-chan!)

The truth is that Oikawa can lie to everyone but himself: he hates the smell of dirt, wood digging into his back, and he's so tired of the darkness. He wants to be able to see the stars from down here.

It isn't a picture of you.

It's one of him — the very picture that had single-handedly ruined his morning. It's tinged pink and green and there are so many CD cases collecting dust on your TV stand. The angle doesn't show your reflection on the screen, but he zooms in in search of it anyway. Beneath it all is a very short, very sweet, 'You look stupid.'

It makes him laugh, and he's loud, startlingly so, because that's easier than crying. He does look stupid. He digs the heel of his hands into his eyes and his phone clatters onto the desk: it sounds like the trembling punch to wood that haunts the skin of his knuckles because he doesn't get to see what he wants tonight, either.

He's pushing around spring onions when the call comes. He doesn't think much about it until he's face to face with a narrow, bold, 'Babe' printed across his screen, pinks and brown crystal clear to him now.

Not answering you yesterday should have been a clear message.

Do not engage.

But his phone rings on, like this isn't a mistake, like you need him for something.

Remain cautious.

He wants to be needed. He wants to be useful. He wants to see the stars and be happy and not have to cry himself to sleep tonight.

Stay far, far away.

He answers the call before he's left in the silence, before he can wallow in the self-blame and regret that have made a home of his shadow.

You sound so far away. It's where you should be, where he wants to be, too. He doesn't think to put you on speaker until there's silence — too much of it and it's everywhere, all-consuming and heavy — and his shadows creep closer, his eyes are getting darker, he can't hear your breathing.

He clears his throat and you call his name again.

His tongue feels leaden, his mouth dry. He stares at the crinkle of your eyes, how they hide your colours from his. "Y-Yeah?"

You sigh in relief. Like you're glad it's him.

"Hey," you say plainly. "Hey, it's, uh, sorry, it's" — and you tell him it's you as if he didn't know, as if he could ever forget.

"I know," he says quietly. You clear your throat like you don't know how to go on. He doesn't fill the silence because it's been so long since he's gotten to hear you breathe.

"I saw the news."

He was hoping you'd indulge him in pleasantries first, but there it is.

"How have you been?" he asks instead. "How's work? Your family?"

You sigh loudly like you're tired of him. Are you? Already? Don't you miss him like he misses you? Were you holding your breath for every second the phone rang? Do you want to see him, too?

"I've been better," you say, your voice a little sharper. He can see the creases in your clothes already, knows you've got a hand on your hip now. He wants to ask you what you're wearing. "A little weirded out, you know, having been robbed and all."

He lets out a pathetic, dry laugh. "Scary what the world's come to, huh?"

"Oikawa." He gulps. Would you be mad if he hung up on you now? "What the hell?"

He holds onto the edge of his desk, watches as his nails whiten under the pressure. It's so much easier to talk to hardwood than look at your contact picture — where you're happy, his, because he's sure you wouldn't be looking at him like that if you were with him now.

"In my defence," he starts, "you're on the no hit list, so that's—"

"The what?"

"You know…" It's a little scary how quickly you make his palms sweat, his heart jump to his throat. "The no hit list. Like a hit list is a list of all the people you want to kill, so the no hit list is the list of people you don't want to kill, or, well, you know, the people you don't want to see killed— Not that I had to write you down or I'd forget! It's just so the others don't kill you, you know? Not that we go around killing people, either, that's really not what we— nevermind. The no hit list. It's a good thing, honestly. Helpful. Good. How’s your family?"

He wipes his hands on his trousers and grimaces at the dark stain that's left behind. That could have gone better, but that also could have gone much, much worse. Either way, there's a pit in his stomach, and he doesn't know whether he wants to cave into it or let it consume the rest of him.

You're silent and Oikawa almost worries you've left him. He licks his lips, dry, his eyebrows knit together, hot. His phone screen has darkened and he clicks on it as soon as he notices. You're vibrant under his fingertip, present, listening. He cradles the phone in his hands like he'd done to the real you once upon a too-long time ago. You were warmer, then, softer. He doesn't want to let go so soon, though, so he clings to you, bringing you closer, staying quiet for once.

"So that was really you?" you finally say. "You actually did that? You're really a— a, what do you even call yourself?"

He's called a lot of things in the darker side of the world, goes by names that'll make you wince, that'll make you wish you’d heeded the news' warnings. The easiest to say is a criminal — the worst of the worst. But to you he just wants to be Oikawa Tooru.

"The Grand King is kind of growing on me now," he says, instead. He'd hated it back then — hated that his crown was always slipping off his head, dirty gold. He hates it now, too. Maybe more so because when someone says king, he hears fool; his heart forged itself a crown of blood and bone and the king, the fool, the boy who cries himself to sleep every night, all walk down the same path, alone together. You snort and the misery sits in his dry, lonely mouth. "H-Hey— I live up to that name, you know?" What is a king but a boy fooling himself, a grand brace on the throne of a greedy body? "I'm pretty good at what I do, if I do say so myself."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Need I remind you, I've yet to be caught?" Which is as much the truth as it is a haunting lie: you have him nestled in the palm of your hand — still, always — and you don't even know it.

You hum, and he wants to take it all back, wants to hear you say his name again, wants to know why you bothered calling again and what you're wearing. He wants and wants; this grave wasn't easy to dig.

"I know," you say. "They came— um, the police, I mean— I'm at work and they came to me, asking me about yesterday."

His brows knit together as he echoes, "They came to you? What did they say?"

"The standard stuff, I guess. I don't know, I spoke to someone after it all happened but the ones who came today were different." He hums inquisitively. "And they were telling me about you and—" you cut yourself off with an irritated groan and he hears the faint knock of wood as if you're slumping over "—I think they think I'm part of your stupid, little gang."

He blinks, silent. "What— How did they— Huh?"

He did not tear himself away from you all those years ago just for the universe to reject his sacrifice like this. Keeping you away from the misery of this world has been his goal for so long — he can't let some rundown cop with a hard-on for seeing him cuffs make his efforts worthless.

He wants to see you. Now. He shouldn't, it'd only give them more reason to be suspicious, but he wants and wants. This grave did not dig itself.

"Yeah." You let out a heavy sigh and his speakers crackle in his ear like the wisp of your breath has breached through for him. A shiver wracks through his body. Hot or cold or barely, he wants to feel you. Now. "They brought up us being in Seijoh together and, like, dating, and then he was all—" he smiles when he hears Seijoh, together, dating, and it only grows at your poor impression that follows "—'I find it a little strange that a gunman would turn away from you like that', and it's like, well, yeah, I did too, man! But now we know why, I guess! And then your guy— was that Makki?"

Oikawa murmurs a small 'yeah,' dizzy from hearing you speak after too many years of silence.

"Then Makki just had to go and say sorry to me, and someone else must've heard because he kept asking me about that as if I knew about your stupid no hit thing. And then he just kept going on about how he's gonna lock you all up and if I'm involved I should just come clean and— ugh, this is all your fault."

"Sorry," he says, and he does mean it, truly, but he doesn't sound it at all right now. He wants to hear you talk more.

"No you're not, but— Tooru, they came to me at work." Tooru — the muscles in his cheek ache from smiling so widely. "And they're saying I might have to come to the station as well and that they're gonna keep an eye on me. Why're they making me out to be the bad guy? You robbed me, I'm literally the victim here!"

He hums, putting on his best customer service voice (the extra shitty Shitty-kawa voice, as everyone has so lovingly dubbed it). "And you are entitled to compensation for it all, my dear."

"I better be," you sigh, and he can picture the pinch of your brows, the way you're rubbing at your forehead. "This is giving me a headache."

He keeps the act up. "So how much would you like?"

"I— huh?"

"Compensation," he says, voice lowering back to his normal shitty Oikawa level. "How much do you want?"

"That's not what I meant," you say. A beat passes and then, "How much can I have?"

He laughs softly and you seem to echo it, tiredly. However much you want, he wants to say. All of it. He doesn't think the guys would appreciate that, but he's sure they'd understand… eventually. Hopefully.

Instead, he murmurs, "I'm sorry." He sounds sincere this time and it makes you quiet. "If I knew that you'd be there — or, just, knew that that was your bank — I wouldn't have done a thing." He almost expects you to ask him why, but he's sure you know, sure it's as obvious as the sun because you're just as blinding. "I didn't— I never—" he cuts himself off with a heavy sigh, only ever angry at himself.

He doesn't know what he should say, just what he wants, what he knows he shouldn't.

"You shouldn't have called— no, I— I shouldn't have picked up. Just… Go on with your life as usual," he tells you. "They've got nothing on me and— and you're not involved with this, anyway. They'll leave you alone eventually."

At least, maybe he should have said that.

Instead, what comes out of him is a whispered, "I want to see you."

"That's… I don't think that's a good idea."

"Me neither," he laughs, and it sounds ugly, rotten, coming out of him. It might just be the worst idea ever, but it's also the most simple truth. "I just miss you." He wants to ask if you miss him too, but he doesn't want to hear the answer.

"I should… go. My lunch break's ending and I have…" The rest of your words scatter in his brain, and he was right: he didn't even need to ask, but he hates your answer all the same.

"Yeah. Yeah, go," he says, digging his nails into the soft palm of his hand. He can feel the quiver of his brittle bones, hear them cry as he sinks deeper.

"Okay. I'll see you… whenever, I guess." You clear your throat, as if saying goodbye has words piling up inside of you that you can't say. He wants to hear them all. He calls your name quietly. "Y-Yeah?"

"One last thing," he says before you can hang up, picking up his shovel and closing his eyes. "What are you wearing?"

He knows seeing you is a bad idea, but Oikawa's always suffered from a nasty case of hypocrisy. Plus, it's not really seeing you if you don't see him, right? It makes sense in his head (the only place things seem to be making sense lately), so, naturally, he follows his thoughts.

He pursues them in his imported 1996 Bentley Rapier — which is a little more inconspicuous than the Ferrari J50 he wanted to take (only 10 of these beauties were made, you know?) before he remembered he wasn't supposed to stick out to you.

He parks his precious car, prays no one tries to steal it, and bides his time under the awning of a bus stop. It's a little after quarter past when he spots you leaving the building and he perks up immediately.

He only wanted to see you for a bit, just long enough to make sure you were okay, that no officers would hound you again upon leaving work. And he's done that now, he's fulfilled his goal. He should head back to his car, drive home, and stay far, far away from you.

But you don't head in the direction of the train station and he gets curious.

He shouldn't, he knows that, but he's got his sunglasses on and he's dressed down in non-Oikawaesque clothes (a.k.a he raided Hanamaki's cupboards and blindly wore whatever his hands picked out first), so his disguise is practically foolproof. He'll maintain his distance. He just wants to know where you're going, wants to make sure you'll be safe.

He watches you head down the little market street that stretches out between the buildings. It's busier than he thought it'd be — how dare all these people be out in search of street food when he's on a mission? Don't they have better things to do? — and he's glad he's taller than the average man, able to lock onto the cream coat you're wearing as he stays paces behind you.

You turn to a stall and he walks until he's close enough to see you're lining up for taiyaki. He kind of (really) wants to line up behind you, but it seems the universe has taken it upon itself to maintain his distance for him.

"Come, come!" the vendor he's standing in front of calls him loudly. "What would you like?"

He catches you moving ahead, speaking to the seller now, before his attention is pulled once more. When he turns, the smell of fish makes his eyes water. "Come, son! Try some shioyaki!"

"W-Wait—" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a flash of cream, your arms moving around. The lady in front of him steals his attention again. "No, I'm not— I'm not hungry, aunty, but thank y—"

"Nonsense!" she says, wrapping a tissue around the ends of two sticks. "Frail boy, you need to eat more! Try some, okay?" He peeks over to your stall and you're gone. He's lost you again. He curses beneath his breath; he's never even liked shioyaki (Mattsun’s voice comes to him, then, It's because you're salty enough.) but now he hates it, swears he's never going to so much as look at mackerel ever again.

He pulls out his wallet and hands over a few notes in exchange for the food. "Thank you," he says, whilst eyeing the fish sticks with enough malice to burn right through him. He has half a mind to stomp on them right now, the hard-working aunty's feelings be damned.

But he doesn't because he's mature (because he's also wearing Makki's shoes and that man will kill him in his sleep if he ruins them in any way).

He steps away with a pout that betrays his immaturity only to walk right into you.

"Oh, sorry!" you say and he freezes. It seems even the universe has given up on him. How on earth did he miss you? Where did you go? Why isn't he saying anything?

"My fault," he finally says, but he thinks it's a little too late. You've scrutinised him enough in the long three seconds it took him to come back down to earth.

"Tooru?"

"Who, me?" He laughs, nervously. "I'm not sure who—" your face drops, utterly unimpressed with him, and he slumps over "—Fine. It's me."

You sigh like you're tired of him already. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm not here for you," he feels the need to say. "I was just… hungry."

You raise a brow, unbelieving. "For shioyaki? Really?"

"The aunty was really convincing!" You walk away and it's only natural that he follows alongside you. "And it's grown on me now, you know?"

"Eat up, then," you say, nodding to the untouched meal. He feels bile rise in his throat at the thought of doing just that.

"No… I'm not hungry anymore," he mumbles. Your laughter sharpens to a glare when he follows with, "You made me lose my appetite."

"You're such a bad liar," you grumble before holding out your own food. "Want some?"

"If you're offering," he grins, making sure to take a massive bite right where you've been eating from. Warm chocolate spills into his mouth, but you snatch it away before he can take another bite. He holds out one of his sticks to you. "Wait, we should finish this first."

"'We'?" You snicker. "That's all yours."

He whines your name and he thinks maybe you're just as weak for him as he is for you because you don't put up much of a fight after that.

You both eye up the too-salty fish with disgust, pushing them together with a pathetic, 'Cheers!' before digging in.

You both pull away with loud groans, ignoring the side-eyes from passersby. He manages to finish his in two bites, barely containing the urge to throw it up immediately. After your first go, you try to wash away the taste with a bit of your taiyaki; it doesn't seem to have the desired effect because your face scrunches up and it makes him burst into laughter.

"Come on," he says, grabbing onto your wrist and tugging you a little ways down the street. He spots a stall selling refrigerated drinks and lines up.

Amidst your complaining, 'Why would you even buy that? You should get your money back!', he takes the stick from your hand, holds his breath, says a prayer in his head, and finishes the rest of it in one go.

You laugh at him when he sticks his tongue out in disgust, and it's like the salt moves down his throat slowly just to taunt him more.

"Thank you," you sing, grinning at him. He can't bring himself to do more than groan in response. When he gets to the front of the line, he asks for two bottles of water and hopes they're enough to make him forget the last 2 minutes of his life.

He's pulling out his wallet when you stop him. "Are you paying?"

"Sure," he says. "But feel free to offer."

"Definitely not," you snort before turning to the seller. "Can we get the soy-milk drink too, please?"

"Help yourself," he grumbles as soon as the seller turns his back.

You nudge his arm teasingly. "You can afford to splurge a little after yesterday, don't you think? This is just the start of my compensation."

He sighs, eyes softening when you perk up to take the drink.

You walk out of the market area together, and he sips on your milk between taking bites of your taiyaki. You don't seem to notice that he's led you to his car until he opens the door for you (like a gentleman, like a lover. His own thoughts make him giddy.).

You hesitate. "You don't—"

"Come on," he says, hand reaching for the strap of your bag. You're about to protest and he continues, "It's dark and cold, and are you really going to miss the chance to sit in a Bentley? Only 6 of these were made, you know?" It doesn't seem to impress you, so he gets pushy, pulling your bag off your shoulder and urging you into the car. "Come on, you're letting my baby get all cold."

(He's talking about the car, of course. What else?)

You roll your eyes and sit in, and he beams, shutting the door behind you. He places your bag in the back seat before walking around to his side. You snort quietly as soon as he settles into the car and he's quick to ask, "What?"

"Nothing." You shake your head, laughing to yourself. "You just… you look like you stole this car, not that you own it." A beat passes and you squint at him. "Did you?"

"Why're you making me out to be a bad guy, huh?" he whines, taking off his sunglasses.

He gestures to the glove box and you open it, raising your brow. "Are you really asking me that? Seriously?" You pull out the empty glasses case, taking the sunglasses from him and putting them on yourself.

He turns the car on, putting up the heating. He huffs quietly as he does so, mumbling, "I've always been good to you." Which is the truth, for the most of it. At least, he's always tried his best to make it true.

He almost expects you to say something sharp. Robbing me was good? Keeping secrets and lying and breaking up with me with no explanation was good?

But you don't. You hum, instead. "How do I look?"

You turn to him, brows raised above the top of his glasses. They're too big on you, slipping down the bridge of your nose, taking up half of your face, but all he can say is the simple truth. "Cute."

"Yeah?" You turn away, reaching for the sun visor. He can't stop watching you. The smile on your face drops as soon as you get a look at yourself. "What the hell?"

“What’s the matter, pretty?” he asks. You’re too annoyed to react to his words — he doesn’t know if he’s grateful for that or if he hates it. Would it be weird if he repeats himself? Would you stop him from going any further?

“I hate you,” you whine, and he watches as you wipe the corner of your lips, dried sauce flaking off of your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me I was walking around with chocolate on my face?”

Because you’ve done it to him before (no, he hasn’t forgotten. And no, this one instance doesn’t make you two even.). Because he was too busy hanging off of your words to interrupt and stop you. Because if your face is messy then maybe passersby won’t look at you with heart-eyes and he can have you all to himself tonight.

“It makes you look cuter. Endearing.” You glare at him, completely unimpressed, and he grins. And before he can stop himself — because you’re looking cute in his shades, because he’s always been a fool for pretty things (a singular pretty thing, really) — he wets his thumb and presses it to the corner of your mouth. You had wiped it all away, and he’s sure you know that, too, but you let him do it all the same. You don’t say anything about the way his eyes soften. You don’t say anything when he skims over the swell of your bottom lip. You don’t say anything when his fingers cradle your cheek, too.

He thinks you lean into it, too. He didn’t realise how cold he had been until your warmth pressed against his palm. Or maybe he’s dreaming now and he had pushed himself on you. Either way, his heart is racing more than it should because it’s been so long since he’s touched you and he doesn’t want to stop, even if he knows he should.

“There we are,” he whispers, and he traces over your lip, again, just because he can. “You’re all clear now.”

His little finger brushes against your throat and he simpers when you gulp. Is he making you nervous? He wishes he could see your eyes. Are they open? Are they focused on him? Will you let him—

You clear your throat and he recognises it for what it is. Pulling away, his fingers wrap in on themselves, wanting to hold onto your warmth for as long as possible.

“Thanks,” you mumble, turning back to the mirror. He hums, watching as you pull the glasses off and lick your lip; it makes him content, makes him ache.

It’s quiet for a few moments as you both orient yourselves. You put his glasses into the case and tuck them away. He holds onto his steering wheel and gets used to the cold again.

“Here,” he says, breaking the tense silence as he takes his phone out. “Put your address in and I’ll drive you back.”

“It’s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “I can still get the train and I—”

He laughs you off. “Don’t be like that. We just went through this.” Should he apologise? Would that make you feel better? You must know he isn’t sorry, he’s only a little wanting, but he’ll say it for you if it gets you to stay for a bit longer. “It’s not a big deal.” It isn’t. Nothing will ever be too much for him when it comes to you. And if you want to ignore the fact that he was inches away from kissing you, then that’s not a big deal either. It isn’t.

“Alright, fine,” you sigh, taking his phone. “But I don’t want you coming over in the middle of the night, bleeding because of a failed robbery one day.”

“As if that’d ever happen,” he scoffs. “I never fail.”

“I’m being serious. I don’t even have a first aid kit.”

“Well, now I want to see how much you’d panic if I did come over—”

“I’d let you bleed out—”

“You’re so mean!”

The journey to your place is too short for his liking. He listens to you ramble about work and that annoying co-worker of yours who claimed your proposals as his own—

(“Want me to get rid of him? I can make it look like an accident.”

“You can’t joke about that kind of stuff, Tooru,” you chastise. A beat passes. “Could you really, though? Wait, have you ever actually—”

He looks away from the roads just to wink at you. “I can’t kill and tell, cutie.”)

—and he turns the radio on when you tell him you’re tired of talking—

(“The radio always sucks at this time,” you fuss. “Way too many ads.”

“Want me to sing for you instead?” he asks, clearing his throat like he’s going to start belting out something powerful. How did that one Adele song go?

“God, no,” you snort. “You’re a lot worse.”

“You’re so mean,” he sings, stretching out the syllables to the sound of your laughter. He clicks his teeth, pouting. “You’re not too tired to complain, huh?”

“Of course not.” You grin and he almost swerves off the road trying to hold your gaze. “Never too tired when it comes to bullying you.”

Minus the ‘bullying,’ he thinks your words are going to be his lullaby for tonight.)

—and he thinks about taking the wrong turn just so he can spend more time with you.

He knows he shouldn’t, and so he follows the GPS’s ‘Take the next right. Your destination will be on the left.’ until he’s right outside your building.

“Thank you,” you say, yawning into your hands and blinking slowly. You don't try to leave instantly and Oikawa takes the opportunity to admire the way you sleepily rub your eyes.

"Any time," he murmurs, and a part of him wants you to take him up on that offer, wants to see you tired and awake and everything in-between again.

You give him a small smile. He's back on his bed, phone in hand. He's not tearing up, he's just tired. He's too old to swallow his thoughts; he's too young to give up on the stars.

"It was— It was good seeing you." It doesn't feel like a weight has lifted off of him. Not when there's so much more he wants to say. Not when this sounds so much like a send-off, like the good-bye he's never wanted to give. And before he can help himself, he says, "I missed this." And because he likes torturing himself, he adds, "Missed you."

Maybe you're too tired to keep your guards raised. Maybe you're too tired to act like you don’t know him as well as you do. Either way, you keep your smile. Your eyes droop at the corner. He's not crying. You face the door and you're quiet when you admit, "Me too."

And he had thought it would be enough, knowing you feel the same — still felt the same, just like him, always his — but hasn't his grave shown that nothing is ever enough for him?

Your hand is on the handle, but you don't pull it open yet. Instead, you turn back to him. "Do you want to come in?"

"I shouldn't."

"Probably not." Your eyes are tired, hopeful. "But do you want to?"

He's greedy. This hole isn't deep enough. "More than anything," he tells you.

He thinks about how easily he could kiss you now, how he could follow you into your building, press you up against your door and kiss you some more there, too. And he wants that, he wants all of that and so much more, which is exactly why he can't do any of it.

The light in your eyes looks as close to stars as a dead man deserves to see.

He's greedy, but he's too tired tonight. The shovel slips from his hand and he watches a shooting star flit across your irises, basks in the remnants of its warmth. He wants to cast a wish in the starshine of your eyes before the dust settles.

He doesn't make a wish.

He takes the risk and kisses your forehead. "You're tired," he murmurs, so close he could kiss you again, lower, longer. "Get some rest, okay?"

The click of the door handle opening sounds a lot like a hammer coming down on a nail.

It's so pathetic it's almost comical how, when Oikawa gets a taste of something, he lets it consume him.

Matsukawa buys meals from a new side dish shop one time and Oikawa only eats there for the next two weeks because everything's so good, so fresh, isn't it about time we have personal chefs?

Hanamaki downloads a new game on their shared console and Oikawa plays it nonstop, completing the main mission and the side quests in little under three days.

You call him one day and he thinks it's a great idea to call you the next.

Truthfully, he knows it's a bad idea. He does it anyway.

Because it's been so long since he's seen you and one night together isn't enough for him. He'll keep his distance — he can do that, to keep you safe he'll do that much at least — but he wants you in his vicinity a little, just on the outskirts of his vignette gaze, there but faded—

"Tooru? You okay?"

—there but faded but all he finds himself straining to focus on.

He hums, closing his eyes and picturing what you're doing. "I just wanted to check up on you," he says before you can ask. It sounds like you're outside, breathing evenly so you must be sitting down. "No pesky cops today, right?"

There's a beat before your laughter rings out. You sound further away now. Have you put him on speaker now? He doesn't know why but it has a kaleidoscope of butterflies bursting inside of him. It feels oddly domestic. "Wrong! He hasn't come up to me or anything, but I'm eating outside" — Oikawa grins — "and he's, like, right across the road from me. It's actually kind of creepy and— oh, he's coming over now, what the hell? This is all your fault—"

"My fault?" he cries. "I was trying to be nice, why didn't you tell me he'd come, I could've done something or—"

"That would've been worse, don't you think?"

"Right, right, just… just calm down, it's fine."

"I am calm." You've always been good at staying level-headed. He feels his hand twitch with your nerves. He's always been good at getting under your skin. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"Exactly."

"I'm only talking to a bank robber—"

"There's no proof—"

"Hello, again," he hears the officer say and immediately his mouth snaps shut. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

You clear your throat nervously. It passes off as awkwardness, you have nothing to worry about.

"No, you're good. It's fine." It's anything but fine, really. Oikawa wonders how purple he looks right now, holding his breath, waiting for the cop to somehow know it's him on the other end of this call and lock you away because of him. This is all his fault. "Um, babe"— and he'll take all the blame because where did that come from? He's got a too-big smile on his face and not enough regret in him now— "it's that officer I was telling you about yesterday. Can you hear him?" That last part must be your way of confirming that he's on speaker, that he needs to be anyone but himself.

He could be whimsical and dramatic, but that's too dangerous, too much like himself. The wanted man. And if Oikawa lets on that you're speaking to him, then this officer definitely won't stop harassing you.

The quirky lover is out. Instead, he digs deep through decades of friendships, letting the ghosts of head slaps and bruised skin possess him, to channel his innermost Iwaizumi. He grunts into the speaker of his phone like a bull.

You clear your throat like you're stifling a laugh and Oikawa has to grit his teeth to do the same.

What would Iwa-chan do? Should he say something? What would he even say? Iwaizumi's always clipped, straight to the point. 'What?' Is that good enough? Or should he say, 'What's the problem?' Or 'What's going on?' No, wait, he should ask you if you're okay, right? That's what a good boyfriend — babe, you called him babe, and it's been replaying in his mind ever since. What should he say to get you sweet on him again? — would do, isn't it? He's taking too long to answer, he can feel it, why isn't someone else speaking up?

The officer clears his throat and Oikawa lets out a quiet breath, grateful until he remembers that that's the enemy. And the enemy currently has you — his lover, his darling babe — in his dirty clutches.

"Ah, I'll keep this short," the man says, and he sounds just as close to your phone as you do. Is he sitting down next to you? Is he making himself at home? Are the crime rates really that low that he has time to waste like this? Oikawa has half a mind to rob another bank right now. "I just wanted to check on you again, ask if you had any more information to give. Sometimes details come to you later, and we wouldn't want to miss anything that might help put criminals away, would we?"

"Of course not," you grumble, but he continues like you hadn't said a thing.

"So, has Oikawa reached out to you? Or anyone else in contact with him? You know, he's a very dangerous man and—"

"And you think I should stay away, I know," you cut in. "But I was looking into it and doesn't he have an alibi?"

Are you seriously trying to defend him right now? Why— well, he knows why, but why bother? It only makes you seem more suspicious considering the situation, but… Oikawa can't deny it has a little part of him melting like butter, hot, sizzling and giddy.

"Yes, but—"

"So, maybe you're wrong about this," you suggest. "I mean, it's possible it was someone else, right?"

He speaks through gritted teeth. Oikawa's proud of how you've gotten on his nerves with just a few words — he'll take all the credit for that, thank you. "We are pursuing multiple leads and suspects."

"Really? How come Oikawa was the only one mentioned in the news then? And then the police took it all back this morning, too? It just doesn't make sense to me that—"

"Our priority is the people's safety," he interrupts. Oikawa hears the ruffle of clothes. Is he finally leaving? "Like I said, if you have — if either of you have — any information at all, then do come forward. Thanks for your time."

You give a plain greeting, and Oikawa doesn't even bother with an Iwa-chan grunt. He waits until you give him the all-clear.

"Holy shit, I think I made things worse." His heart picks up like it's yours. You speak so quickly. "I did, didn't I? Why'd I do that?"

"Baby, calm down. You're okay."

"No, I— I thought I was being smart but it just makes me seem so suspicious, doesn't it?"

A beat passes before Oikawa says quietly, "Maybe a little." You groan his name. "But it's fine! He knows we have history, doesn't he? It just comes across as you being a little defensive over someone you knew — you know, like how you don't expect the worst of someone you've known for a while. It's fine."

You groan again. He thinks he hears you slap yourself on the forehead and it makes his own flare up with heat, makes him frown. "Yeah," you sigh, "except the other day I told him I hadn't spoken to you in years and that we ended on bad terms, so this was just…" You trail off into another heavy groan before grumbling to yourself, "Why'd I do that?"

"Oh." There's a moment of quiet before he asks, "Then, why did you?"

"Because you—" you splutter, and he wonders how funny you look, screaming down at your phone. "You make me do dumb things!"

His mouth parts, but he doesn't know what he should say to that.

'I didn't do anything.'? That's a lie. He tipped the first domino all those years ago and he's been digging down ever since.

'You'll be fine now. It doesn't matter.'? He can't promise you that, no matter how much he wishes he could.

He wants to ask why he still has an effect on you. Wants to hear the answer from you instead of entombing himself in half-thoughts and what-ifs.

You fill the silence. "I should get back to work."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," he mumbles. "Burying yourself in work is the best way to forget about things," he teases but his voice is strained, taut.

You laugh, bitter. "I wish."

His stomach turns with the idea that you can't let go of him either. He wants to ask you if he's right, if your hands are rope-burned too.

Before he can entertain it any more, the click of the call ending nails itself into his ears. He wants to call you back, but Hanamaki knocks on his door and he thinks maybe it's better this way.

"I think I've done something I shouldn't have."

"What?"

Oikawa hears your TV playing in the background until you mute it. You repeat yourself and he listens to your quiet breathing as you wait. It's late, windy. He has to focus.

"What would you do if I said I was outside your place right now?"

A beat passes. "If you're bleeding then I swear—"

"I'm fine," he interrupts, smiling. He wants to take it back, though, wants to know what you'd do if he was out here bleeding. Do you really not have a first aid kit? "A little cold, though."

"Why are you here?"

In a way, he is bleeding — he has been for a long time, he thinks. Because he tore himself from you and you left a wound in his side and he doesn't want to heal if you're not the light stitching him back together.

"Because you make me do dumb things, too."

You end the call, but he doesn't hear the crude sound of metal piercing wood. He wonders what's different. Did he just miss it? Is there dirt in his ears and is the dark playing tricks on him—

He sees the light when you open the front door and he crosses the road to you without even looking.

"You don't have to let me in just because I'm here," he says in lieu of a proper greeting. He stands at the entrance of your building, rocks on his heels because he doesn't know if he should be in the light with you or retreat back into the dark. "I know I shouldn't be here, so if you want me to go then I'll leave right now, but I had to— if I don't at least try then I don't know what else I'd do."

"Do you want to come in?"

He doesn't tell you he shouldn't, doesn't leave it up in the air this time.

"Yeah."

You take a step back and he follows you under the lights until you reach the lifts, until you take him up to your apartment. There’s a block of wood separating you from the rest of the world. You make a casket feel like home. Maybe he could spend the rest of his life here.

As soon as the door closes behind him, he's on you. Pulling you into a hug, his fingers sink into you where they can, squeezing your waist, sticking to your shoulder blades. "I'm sorry," he whispers, because it's finally just you and him. No pesky officers, no stringent right hand man, no reasons to let go right now. "For, for breaking up and never telling you anything and putting you— god, I missed you so much." You find out how much it hurts to make your own grave when his fingers dig deeper into you, a dead man and his final breath.

"It's okay," you say, and you cling onto him just as much, like his reflection, his shadow, the dirt under his nails.

"It's not," he cries. He's hunched over your body, soaking your shoulder like you're a pillow and he's that boy all over again.

"It is. You're here now." He burrows his face into the crook of your neck, shaking. "I missed you, too, you know?"

He pulls away, and your eyes are red-rimmed and tired, lashes wet with his tears. He sniffles and it sounds disgusting, but it makes you smile all the same.

"Yeah?" You nod and he licks his lips. "Say it again."

"You're so needy," you tease.

"I know." His fingers cling onto your sides, his voice is hoarse. "You are, too, though."

"Not as much as you."

'That's because I love you more,' he wants to say. It's at the tip of his tongue. His gaze drops to your mouth and — you're right there — he wants to go for it. Wants to push the words out of his mouth and have you swallow them down, so you know how real they are.

He could.

You're right there.

He presses his lips to your forehead instead, and it's soft, you're soft, his palm is flat against his coffin but he doesn't push. He closes his eyes and holds himself there, pulling away just to place another that's shorter, bittersweet.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." He can see the dew on your cheeks and he wants to wipe it away, wants to touch you wherever you'll let him, wants you to kiss him back, anywhere, everywhere. "You know that, right?"

“I know,” you murmur. A breathless laugh escapes you. “But this is so… God, I don’t even know. I know I shouldn’t trust you, that this is all— this—” your fist shakes the air between you, but you don’t step away “—is dangerous for me, but it’s like I don’t even care. I still trust you. I still want—” You hit your head on his sternum, neck bowed, voice far, far away. “How do you do this to me?”

He cradles the back of your head, keeps you flush against him. He wants to ask you the same question. How can you make him want to throw his life’s work away so easily? How can you make him want to do nothing but stand here and hold you to him for the rest of his life?

The king in him is tired of the weight on him, but you’re right there; he kisses the crown of your head because he’s always been a fool for you.

“I don't… If this is just for tonight then I'd rather not— I’d rather not get my hopes up,” you murmur. Your smile burns through his shirt. “It's fine if you don't want anything more, but if you don't, then I… I just don't think— why are you laughing?” You jerk away, but he keeps you close, hands sprawled across your back. “I'm being serious—”

“I know.” He smiles, luring you back in. “And as much as I'd like to hear more about how much you want me—” he kisses your nose, watches you gulp “—I'd rather show you I'm not going anywhere this time.”

You worry over your own lip, like you're arguing over what he's said in your head, alone, losing, and he can't have that.

He kisses you, finally, pulling your lip from your own mouth and into the grave of his.

He never knew death could taste so sweet; a dying man clings to life, but Oikawa’s desperate to dig deeper now, sink his teeth in the soft bed of your lips, rest his tongue on yours until it withers away, wanting you to sip the ghost of him.

He promises, “I’m not gonna leave you again.” Your breath is warm, fanning across his face, and he forgets what it feels like to not be under your low-lidded, scorching gaze. You’re his final breath. “Don't think I can,” he laughs against your mouth and you seal his vow with your lips, bruising, blazing. His eyes slip shut, but the dark doesn't scare him when you flash white-hot, honey-wanting and bright behind his eyelids; and the door, his casket, doesn’t hurt his back any more, he leans on it, his home; his hands break free from the grip of a shovel, they don’t ache around the curve of your body, they bleed into your waist like he was sculpted to hold you.

He doesn’t stop digging. He doesn’t stop wanting to see the stars. He didn’t realise how easy, how beautiful, it is to keep the dead down: with your fist in his shirt and your heart hammering in his chest, he thinks he could stay this way for however long it takes for him to turn to bone, however long you needed him to.

He thinks it will be okay. If you can swallow his words and he can nestle his way between your ribcage, curl himself around your beating, burning heart, it will all be okay.

He doesn’t mind love gnawing at his flesh if it’s done by your pretty, trembling lips.

“You don’t know how much I missed this. Needed this,” he says, panting against your mouth. His body aches all over, he can’t feel a thing. He doesn’t want to feel anything but your body under his, not when you’re finally right there. “Been dreaming about this for so, so many years, you know?”

He devours your ‘Me too’ in a heavy kiss. His lips are dry, fervent, but they’re not lonely slotted against yours. It’s a perfect fit, he thinks. Lock and key. Shovel and dirt.

“Worst mistake I’ve ever made,” he grits out, forehead resting on yours. He’s still the crying boy, but he’s happy now. “I swear, I’m never, never, doing that again.” He can’t keep his mouth away from you for too long, rough, demanding, desperate. “Never staying away from you. Always gonna come back to you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you again and I’m not—”

He doesn’t mind being buried anymore if your body is his coffin.

“—I’ll die before I ever let go of you again.”

Tonight, he makes a grave for himself in you.

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