Oikawa Fluff - Blog Posts

Clementines

Memories flash through my eyes as I recall the days when you bestowed upon me flowers—delicately holding my hand before placing a small bouquet of hand-picked orange Clementines no matter what day or occasion, awakening butterflies in my stomach as they flutter.

“Clementines…my favorite” you softly utter, fingers barely grazing through the vibrant petals as you silently admire them. Their beauty never escaped your notice, evoking warmth and adoration each time they graced your hands. 

“Thank you..” A wide smile adorns your lips, cheeks painted by the color of crimson reds. You take a step closer, arms finding their way between his neck, looking up to meet his gaze before leaning in to plant a small peck on his lips.

He pulls back slightly, holding out his hand, as you gently place yours. He wraps his fingers around your own pulling you towards him. You both danced the night away beneath the silvery glow of the stars, your shoes wearing aching blisters on your heels.

I didn't really know what to do with this one...I had a dream abt this n decided to try n write it. I'm thinking of making this a sequel ig??? Im kinda imagining a forbidden love trope here... it can be whoever you want it to be 🤷‍♀️

On a Cold Winter’s Night (Oikawa x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Trapped in the university library due to a raging blizzard outside, you are forced to endure the cold night with the man you hate the most: the player who lives in the dorm across from you, Tooru Oikawa. But with tensions and anxieties at an all-time high, you begin to realize your feelings for Oikawa aren’t quite what you thought they were, especially when all he wants to do is keep you warm. 

A/N: I took like six hours to write this??? Bruh callin’ amateur hour in this bitch 😑😑 eh, whatever, enjoy!

Word count: 5345

        Snow, layers upon layers, piled up outside of the library. The glass doors of the library had long frosted over, and inside the lights began to flicker. Outside every window was a blanket of white, everything in the distance far too foggy to see through the flurry of flakes. 

       The lone television suspended above the library’s main desk played the same succession of videos–static with white noise, a scrolling of text warning people to stay inside, three loud buzzes, then more static with white noise. It far overpowered the sound of the library’s heater kicking on, its automatic settings desperately trying to battle the cold that succeeded in invading the closed and locked library. 

       You sighed, sparing another glance at the exit and the wall of snow that kept rising against it. Minutes ago you’d tried pushing open the doors, only succeeding in chilling the tips of your fingers against the frozen metal. Ever since then, your fingers never truly seemed to recover. 

       Just your luck; first a small windstorm had delayed your flight back home for Christmas Break, and now, just when you’d given up and decided to work on a few research projects while being stuck at the university, you were trapped inside the library. 

       But you weren’t alone. No, of course not. As if fate had it out for you, you were stuck inside the building with the one guy you despised with your whole being. 

       “Gum?”

       Oikawa held out a piece, a small smirk dancing on the edge of his lips. When all he received in response was a blank stare, he shrugged and unwrapped it, tossing it in his mouth before toying with the wrapper. 

       The both of you sat behind the librarian’s desk in tall, wooden stools. It was the only place with service, and it was where you had both scurried to the second the storm warning chimed through the announcement speakers. 

       While you had attempted to push through the doors, Oikawa had called the school’s main office, warning them of your predicament. Of course, he’d cut himself off halfway through with a cackle at the sight of the door slamming back in your face, but nonetheless he’d gotten a simple, if completely undesirable response. 

       “The both of you need to stay in there and not leave. It’s far too dangerous to go out into the blizzard right now. Tomorrow morning it should be calmed down, and then we’ll send people over to get you. For now, try to stay warm.”

       When he relayed this message to you, you had him put them on speaker so you could hear it with your own two ears. 

       Pop.

       Alas, it was the truth. You were stuck.

       Pop.

       With your worst enemy. Alone. 

       Pop.

       During a blizzard. 

       “Will you stop doing that?” you hissed, heaving a glare at him. 

       Oikawa froze in his seat, a gum-bubble the size of a golf ball slowly deflating with a wheeze. He raised his hands in surrender. “Excuse me for trying to find some source of joy in this miserable place. Maybe you should try having fun once in a while, YN.”

       Your cheeks burned in shame at that. “I have fun!”

       A single brown brow rose. “Do you?”

       “Yes,” you folded your arms across your chest, “I do. But unlike you, I don’t do it at the expense of other people’s sanity.”

       Long ago, amidst your third week of your first year at the university, you learned that you and Oikawa were two vastly different people. In co-ed dorms, he lived just across from you, and it seemed he reminded you of that every other night. 

       While loud music boomed across the hall and eventually spread throughout the building, you sat inside your dorms, hands over the headphones over your ears. You were usually leant over a textbook, pencil and notes abandoned long ago as you tried to comprehend the words despite not being able to hear your own thoughts. 

       Your roommate would slip out to join the fun, meeting and laughing with someone who had knocked on your door. Then that someone had tapped a single finger on your shoulder, squatting down beside your desk and leaning his head to one side. 

       As usual, a teasing smile danced on his lips. “You gonna join us, or sit here studying like a Debbie Downer?”

       You’d be the first–and most certainly not the last–to admit that he was attractive. Brown hair exploding in tufts and swept across his forehead. Bronze eyes twinkling in the light of your lamp. Thin, pink lips pulled into a goading grin. 

       “Come on, I promise the water’s warm.”

       It was at that moment that you started to hate him.

       “Get out of my room.”

       The smugness blanketing his face had dropped for a split second, and you genuinely wondered if you were the first to ever resist his charms. But how could you not, when in every second of your interaction with him, it felt like he was laughing at you?

       Hesitantly, it seemed, he rose to his feet, stumbling a bit. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was already drunk, but you hadn’t smelled it earlier when he was inches from your face. 

       “All right,” he chuckled, rising to his full height with his hands on his knees. Swiftly, he turned and made his way to your door, not bothering to look back at you again. “I know when I’m not wanted. Enjoy your studying, YN.”

       How he’d learned your name, you never really. You’d figured he caught it on the first day of the one class you shared with him, English, amidst mandatory introductions. Since then, every time your name fell on his lips, he more sang it than said it, always in that sly tone of his. 

       You hated it. You hated him. 

       And now, as you spent the third day of Christmas Break locked inside alone with him in a freezing library, you found yourself despising him even more. 

       Pop.

       “Well, YN, you should know better than anyone that I have a knack for driving people insane,” Oikawa hummed, long fingers folding the edges of his gum wrapper against the desk surface. Your eyes drawn to the action, you absentmindedly scoffed. 

       “Yes, I certainly do.”

       His eyes darted to yours, an emotion flitting across them before dropping back down to his miniature origami. A chill ran up your spine. 

       “I’m going to go look for some blankets,” you sputtered out of the blue. You found yourself reflecting his shocked look, a little surprised at yourself at the outburst. 

       “Okay,” he grinned after a pause. “Hurry back soon.”

       Ignoring the wink he offered you, you slipped out of your chair and left him alone behind the desk counter, effectively beginning your search for stray, abandoned coverings. 

       Instantly, you realized the rest of the library was significantly chillier than the desk up front. Though the heater was still pumping and hissing through the air vents above you, it was now rattling much more forcefully than before.

       Must be the snow piling on top of the electrical system or something. 

       The fluorescent lights buzzed above you, still cutting off and flickering every few seconds as you passed bookshelf after labeled bookshelf. Signs labeled with genres and areas of study swung from the ceiling over rows of different-colored bindings. So distracted, you let out a yelp of pain after stubbing your toe against an abandoned book cart, plenty of go-backs filed one after the other in no discernible order. 

       “YN?” Far off, Oikawa’s voice called after you. Despite the distance you’d created between the two of you, he still must have heard your pained shout. A small part of you was surprised he bothered to acknowledge the noise at all. 

       Maybe he’s not a complete pain in the ass.

       “Yeah, that was me, I’m fine! Just hit my foot on something!”

       “Do you need help finding your way around? I’m sorry, I forgot my walking rope, so we’ll have to hold hands!”

       Nevermind, still a dick. 

       “Fuck you!”

       “That’s why I’m here!”

       Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips to prevent giving in to his teasing further. With a few hissed curses under your breath, you continue venturing through the uninhabited building. Though you did find a few abandoned belongings, none of which were of much use. A few too small hoodies, one suspicious pair of sweatpants, and some stray sunglasses. One poor soul even forgot their backpack at one of the work tables, and despite your initial curiosity, you refrained from digging through it and instead left it where it was. 

       It was when you arrived at the individual work areas divided by wooden partitions that your search finally paid off. Because it was arranged against a line of floor-to-ceiling windows, it was significantly colder in this work area than any other place you’d come across. Luckily, that also meant there was a higher chance of you finding spare blankets–which you did. 

       One was still strewn across the back of a work chair, a black fur throw with no designs but a single tear at one corner, presumably where a tag had been. Another, this one cream-colored, knitted wool, sat in a crumpled pile on the very last desk of the entire area, arranged in the furthest corner of the library from the entrance. The bulb in the ceiling above this desk had been out ever since the first time you’d been in the library, so you weren’t surprised to figure that people crammed out naps between studying in this dark little corner.

       While gathering the two–scratch that, there was another on the ground next to you–three blankets in your arms, you spared a look outside the windows. Frost and a glaze of ice covered each corner where metal met glass, and, because you were on the first floor, you could see how high the snow had piled by now. It reached as high as your hips, with more flakes joining or splatting against the pane every second. 

       The sun, you could see, was just barely setting, the gray of the sky growing darker. Soon enough, it was darker inside than it was outside. 

       The power. It had gone out.

       “YN!”

       Because the heater sputtered a few more clicks before kicking the bucket, you could barely hear Oikawa’s voice, far off and muffled, over the large distance you’d covered in the library. The lights above you no longer buzzed, and instead an unsettling silence took over the building. 

       “Oikawa! The lights!” You hugged the blankets to your chest with one straining arm, the other fumbling with your phone flashlight. You began the trek back to the front desk, squinting to try and make out shelves and stray books along the way. Despite the long-sleeved T-shirt you wore, a chill was beginning to nip at your skin, and you slowed to wrap a blanket around your shoulders. 

       “I know, the weight of the snow must have taken out the electrical box or something!” His voice was getting closer; he must have been making his way towards you in return. 

       Passing through the towering bookshelves, you made it out and turned a corner onto the main path they created. A shadow of a figure stood inches from your face. 

       “Shit!” You flinched back, kicking a leg out blindly in self-defense. The tip of your snow boot struck something hard, and a strangled groan escaped the person as they dropped to the floor. Now level with the light of your flashlight, the person was finally visible–Oikawa hugged his shin to his chest with clenched eyes and gritted teeth. 

       “Ow, ow, ow, owie!” 

       You winced, your guilt growing worse after realizing he had just been searching for you. 

       “Oh, sorry,” you cringed, dropping the blankets and hovering your hands over his coiled form. You wanted to help, you just weren’t sure how. “Do you… do you want some ice for that?”

       The glare he threw you chilled you to the bone more than the weather outside.

       “C’mon,” you hid a snigger behind your hand, straightening up and offering him the other, “it was just a joke. I really am sorry. Let’s get back to the front desk; I’ll help you.”

       The huff he released ruffled the bangs on his forehead. “I should make you kiss it better,” he pouted, hand latching onto yours and pulling himself up. He almost yanked you down with him, but you’d stationed a hand on one of the shelves for support the second you felt his whole weight. You hadn’t expected it, but you supposed you should have guessed it–Oikawa’s body was packed with muscle from years of playing volleyball. 

       Even now, as the main setter of your school’s team, he had daily workouts that only made his body stronger. You’d passed him once during a warm autumn day; he was jogging around campus shirtless while you were on your way back to the dorms after just getting out of class. He was headed straight for you, and during that time, everything seemed to move in slow motion. 

       One, two, three… eight, you’d counted, eyes raking down his chest. The sweat glistened on his bare skin, bathing him in a glowing sheen due to the midday sun. A narrow waist trailed down, down to volleyball shorts hanging slanted on his hips. A smug snicker drew your gaze up, past a broad chest and shoulders and onto Oikawa’s simpering face.

       “Like what you see?” his lips mouthed, but you couldn’t hear over the pounding in your ears, blood rushing to your face. 

       “You’re disgusting” were the only words you could think to say, though they were the exact opposite of how you felt. Maybe you were actually speaking to yourself, ashamed at the way your body reacted to a man you hated with your entire mind. Nonetheless, his face fell in shock, and you brushed past him, ignoring how he’d stopped dead in his tracks and continuing back to your dorm. 

       The view from that day was still imprinted in your mind, as though somehow your mind was afraid of forgetting it. Forgetting him. 

       But you would never forget how much you despised his attitude. 

       You released his hand as quickly as you’d grabbed it, reaching back down and gathering the blankets off the floor. A red flush took over your cheeks, and for the first time you were glad the electricity had gone out. Maybe the rest of your body was beginning to freeze, but your face was completely warm. 

       “I’m not kissing anything, perv.”

       You tried to leave him stranded behind you, moving forward to return to the front desk through the darkness, but his longer strides easily caught up with you aside from a small limp. 

       “The night is still young, YN.”

       Instead of a proper response, you settled for a scoff, avoiding the gaze you knew was locked on your face. An amused hum escaped the man beside you, but you blocked it out. 

       Finally back at the front desk, you spared another look outside. The sun had set completely now, a dark blue hue now in the sky as more and more snow collected against the glass. It seemed the warmth of the room had been sucked away completely, leaving behind a stale, frigid atmosphere that dried up the back of your throat.

       “The blankets will certainly help,” Oikawa broke the silence behind you, “but we’ll need more than that. I snagged what I could from the backroom, some water bottles left in the fridge or so, but we need food.” When you shifted to face him, he nodded his head toward the vending machine next to the restrooms. 

       “You want to break into the vending machine?” you deadpanned. 

       “Unless you’ve got generous amounts of cash, of course,” he smiled sarcastically. 

       “Maybe we should wait until morning before we start committing crimes.”

       Oikawa shrugged. “Desperate times, YN.”

       “We’re not that desperate.”

       “Not yet.” He eyed the cloud of air his words left, releasing a larger, experimental breath and watching the fog that hung in the air afterward. 

       The sight made your stomach clench a little. If the cold from the outside had seeped in that quickly, you had a feeling three measly blankets weren’t going to last the two of you through the night. A wave of goosebumps ran along your skin when you thought about the cold too much. 

       You swallowed. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. We just have to make it till morning.” The strain in your arms from holding onto the blankets too long finally drew your attention back to them, and you busied yourself with arranging the throws on the floor. You handed one to Oikawa, saving one for yourself before spreading the last on the floor behind the front desk. 

       The rough carpet floor was less unforgiving when covered with a blanket, but you knew that in a matter of minutes your backside would be numb either way. Oikawa snagged the water bottles off the counter and passed them down to you before settling on the floor himself, a distance far too close for your comfort, but the heat he was giving off silenced any of your complaints. 

       Then it was too quiet. You cracked open a water bottle and took a sip, then you opened it again and took another sip. All the while, you saw Oikawa watch you in your peripheral vision, and when his staring came to be too much, you scrambled for your phone. 

       “Shit.”

       “What?”

       You patted your hands down your legging pockets once more, then along the ground. You flapped around your blanket, hoping to hear a weight thump against the floor, but there was nothing. 

       “My phone’s missing.”

       “When did you-”

       “Dammit, I left it on the ground after kicking you!”

       “Hey,” Oikawa screeched, offended. “You say that like it was my fault!”

       “Well,” you rose to your feet, Oikawa following suit, “you were the one who scared the shit out of me!”

       “Didn’t you know I was looking for you?” He followed you down the main walkway through the shelves, his presence inches from your back.

       “Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to materialize right in front of my face!” In effort to escape his suffocating presence, you quickened your pace, eyes on the ground but not really seeing anything.

       “Oh, I’m sorry, my bad. Next time you go missing during a snowstorm, I’ll be sure to wear a bell so you know exactly where I am at all times.”

       “That’s not what-”

       Crack.

       The both of you froze in place, argument out of mind in an instant. 

       “Was that…?”

       “Uh oh.”

       You both directed your attention to underneath your foot, where an object lay cracked from your aggressive stomping. 

       Dropping your face into your hands, you let out a loud groan. “Could this day get any worse?”

       Oikawa had squatted down to investigate, nudging your leg out of the way before picking up your cracked phone. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was useless anyway.” He tapped and poked at the screen, toying with the buttons. “Looks like it was out of battery.”

       “Fuckkkkk.” You tore it from his hands, performing your own investigations of pats and brushes along the screen before calling it quits. “Isn’t yours out too?”

       Solemnly, he nodded, taking his phone out and allowing you to tap around on it before throwing it back in his pocket.

       “So we’re fucked?”

       “Majorly.”

       The pair of you slumped back to the main desk, flopping onto the ground and wrapping back up in your blankets. A shiver of cold mixed with frustration had taken over your body in a short span of time, causing your breaths to escape with slight chatters of your teeth. 

       You could feel it now, on the tips of your fingers and the end of your nose. A chill seeped through your leggings and slid up your shirt sleeves, sinking into every pore and leaving your hair standing on end. Your muscles began that all-too familiar buzz, a slow but steady trembling in effort to get your blood moving. Your toes curled in your boots. 

       “It’s cold,” you commented, the words slipping out like an afterthought. 

       You thought he’d agree, hum, or even nod his head. Instead, Oikawa scooted closer to you on the blanket, enough that his upper arm brushed the end of your shoulder. Then, slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, his arm rose and wrapped around you, not only covering you with his heat but also with his blanket, still soaked in the warmth from his body. 

       Mind blank, you didn’t move a muscle for what seemed to be five minutes after he’d moved to embrace you. 

       “Is this okay?” he’d whispered into the silence, voice soft yet hesitant. 

       “W-why?”

       “You said you were cold.” He shifted a little, but didn’t move away. And surprisingly enough, you didn’t want him to. “I–didn’t want you to be cold.”

       A blanket of silence falls over the two of you, an atmosphere of peace you never thought you’d experience with the brunette man in your life. His warmth left you in a sort of lethargic trance; you didn’t want to move away, though your mind was urging you to, nor did you have the energy to. For the first time, you wanted Oikawa close to you, and you didn’t want him to leave for a while.

       You were exhausted.

       Formerly, the two of you were both leaning back against the wall. Now, tucked into Oikawa’s side, your right arm pressed into the side of his chest while your left was cushioned a distance from the wall by Oikawa’s arm, wrapped sturdily around your shoulders and urging you to lean toward him instead. 

       Man, you were tired. 

       “YN?”

       “Hmm?” Your eyes cracked back open, and you shifted your gaze to him, waiting. 

       His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes still closed as a single brown tuft of hair fell across his forehead. In the light the moon reflected off the snow, you could see the length of his lashes brushing the apples of his cheeks, the sharp edge of his jawline that you yearned to run a finger along. He didn’t bother to look at you for a response when he muttered, “Why do you hate me?”

       The question zapped you to attention like a taser, guilt flooding your chest for a reason you didn’t quite think you knew. There was a strong urge in you to pull away from him, but the hand on your arm tightened, halting any drastic movements.

       “I… I don’t…”

       “I know you do,” he sighed, tongue running out along his lips. “Please, just tell me.” There was a sort of surrender in his voice you never thought you’d hear. For a second, you missed his smug tone. You missed the teasing lilt of his voice. You missed the Oikawa you knew. 

       You wanted him back. 

       “You’re weirding me out, Oikawa.” In this position, you couldn’t poke him in the cheek, so you settled for his thigh. He barely flinched, peeking a single eye open. “Go back to acting like that smug little shit I know you are.” His lips quirked up.

       “I promise I’m still me, YN. I’m just a bit curious is all.”

       “Yeah, well, it’s freaking me out. I want the normal you back.”

       Wrong words.

       “You do?” He was wide awake at that, head straightened up and eyes wide and at attention. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging. 

       “Nevermind.” You twisted in his grip to get your back facing him. 

       “No, no, noooo.” Both of his hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “Say it again. Say you want me again.”

       “God, you’re such a perv,” you stutter, voice wavering with his movements.

       “You’re so mean, YN!” he whines, finally releasing your shoulders. You think he’s given up and let down your guard slightly, a little curious at his expression. But when you turn your head to face him, two arms wrap around your waist, yanking you back and in between Oikawa’s outstretched legs. 

       “What the-” While you struggle in his arms, Oikawa only holds you closer, leaning back and taking you with him so your back rests against his front. He hooks his head over your shoulder, and you tense when you feel a breath of warm air against your ear. 

       A shiver tears through your body, but you’re relieved he doesn’t comment on it. 

       “Say it again, YN.” And he definitely feels the shiver that time. A breathless snicker heats up the skin of your neck, but you’re too trapped in his arms to escape the overwhelming feeling it erupts in you. 

       “God, I hate you,” you sigh instinctively. 

       Oikawa grows still. The fun and games are over, it seems, as he pulls his head away from your neck. The arms encircling your waist have become rigid. 

       There’s a thump against the wall. Then a pause. “Why?”

       You bite your lip, and though the words are on the tip of your tongue, you can’t seem to force them out. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, regretful. All of those ugly feelings he pulls out of you every other day, you draw out of yourself in this moment. 

       “Oikawa, I-”

       “Tooru,” he corrects.

       Flustered, you continue, “Tooru… whenever you… you always just… I never…” You groan at your lack of words, throwing frustrated hands over your face. The heat in your body, though small, rises. “I just feel stupid around you.”

       “Stupid?”

       “Like an idiot.”

       “Idiot?”

       “Yeah.”

       “Yeah?”

       “Stop it.”

       “Sorry,” he pauses, “I just… you think you feel stupid? Around me?”

       You don’t understand what he means, so you stay silent. 

       “So… you feel like an idiot around me… why, exactly?”

       “Because,” you wave your hands around, not really sure what your gestures are doing considering he can’t see them, “you just… you tease me all the time! And when we’re in class and you look at me and I just feel like I’ve got shit all over my face! And when you throw those stupid-ass parties, I feel so lame because it’s not like I don’t want to socialize, but I hate the way people act at parties! And then you come along and tell me that I should join, but I know it’s gonna fucking suck and I know you’re gonna see that I stick out during parties like a sore thumb and that makes me feel even worse and I-”

       “YN!” A hand slips from your waist, slapping over your mouth and effectively cutting off your rambling. A disbelieved breath sounds behind you. “Jesus Christ, YN.”

       And you feel like even more of an idiot. You take some pleasure in the fact that he can’t see you as tears begin springing in the corners of your eyes. 

       But then there’s a hard pressure against the back of your head. And then something soft against the back of your neck. “YN, YN, YN,” and you realize his lips are on your neck, his face buried into your hair, “God, you just… you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

       You didn’t know that.

       “The fact that you can say all of that, and think all of that, and feel all of that, without realizing why I even do it at all drives me insane.” You feel his mouth move against you with every word, your skin growing hot under his breath. You try to speak against his hand, and thankfully he pulls it away when you do, returning it to your waist as though it doesn’t muddle your mind. 

       “What are you talking about?” 

       And he laughs like it’s the dumbest question in the world. And maybe it is, but you have to know. 

       His lips are on your neck one last time before he pulls away, leaning back against the wall once more and taking you with him. “YN,” his fingers twitch against your skin, the cold of them biting through the fabric of your shirt, “do you have feelings for me?”

       And you feel like the biggest idiot of all, because you do. 

       You do have feelings for him, and you only just realized that now. 

       “Holy shit.” 

       Oikawa stiffens. “What?”

       “I have feelings for you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, mostly because you’re still in disbelief. Did you really? After all this time of thinking you hated him, of hating how he teased you, you seriously had feelings for him and you didn’t even notice?

       Stupid. So very stupid. 

       A loud scoff from Oikawa breaks you out of your stupor. 

       “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me nuts.”

       And you can’t even turn around and call him an asshole because he’s turning you in his grip and pressing his lips against yours. The hand on your chin, the other on your hip, all to pull you closer, spin you around and tug you onto his lap without separating from you. 

       Your hands are in his hair, and you’re tugging, and it’s that whine you always hear whenever you don’t respond to his teasing, that needy one you thought you always hated because it just shakes you to your core but now you get it, you finally understand it. And those long fingers, the ones he always slams onto your notes drunkenly whenever he’s having a party and you’re not there but you forgot to lock your door so now he’s in your room and he’s bothering you, begging you and toying with you to get your attention, those fingers that have stolen your notebook away and held over your head while he smiles and stubbles around, getting you to chase him–they’re on your hips and you know they’re leaving bruises and you like that they’re leaving bruises. 

       You like it all because it’s so cold tonight and he’s so warm and he’s always so warm and you want more, more, more. 

       And he hovers over you, and you gasp. You hate how he teases you because he loves it so much, and that makes you love it. You love it. 

       It is cold tonight. There’s a blizzard raging right outside the doors to the library, stacking up snow higher and higher. You’re both trapped, but you don’t want to leave. Because despite all of the cold, you’re both very, very warm. 

                               ~~~

       The next morning, when people find the two of you, they blame it on that little notion that runs through everyone’s minds when people are stuck together during a cold blizzard, because surely that’s what it must be. 

       And surely that’s why your cheeks are flushed and full of embarrassment, because although everybody knows how weird it can be, during such a life-threatening situation, it’s a desperate attempt to stay warm.

       So when they found you the next morning, thankfully safe and sound and wrapped around each other to try and preserve warmth, they were glad that you two innocent, poor little students, who must have been so scared to be trapped in a building without electricity and heat, were going to be okay, and that they could safely escort you out of the building and back to your dormitories with an official apology. 

       Until one of you asked if they could leave so you could finish what you’d started. 

       “Tooru, you fucking pervert!”

I Wanna Build a Snowman (Oikawa x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Oikawa just wants to build a snowman on one of the coldest days of the year with his beloved girlfriend. What could go wrong?

A/N: Major fluff. Like...that’s it. That’s the warning. We’ve been getting assloads of snow where I am so I figured why not. Hope you like this domestic fluff!

Word count: 2264

        Something cold, soft and insistent hits you in the face. 

        “YN!... YNNNN!” Oikawa keeps whisper-yelling your name and patting the side of your cheek until you finally gather the energy to crack open an eyelid. 

        “Tooru,” you yawn, moving to sit up and rub the sleep from your blurred gaze, “whyyy?” The lights of yours and Oikawa’s bedroom are still off but the open curtains of your floor length window allow the white brightness flooding the space to blind you. 

        Huh, looks like the blizzard warning wasn’t a joke.

        The light zaps every ounce of energy right out of you as you struggle to stay conscious and you give in, flopping back despite Oikawa’s whines. 

        “No, no! YN, come on, let’s go outside!”

        “Are you insane?” you mumble into your pillow, rolling over only to be flipped right back.

        “Neither of us have any type of clothes equipped for that kind of weather. Just go back to sleep- oof.”

        A piece of clothing, pants by the feel of the starchy exterior, thwaps you in the face and incites enough anger inside you to wake you for revenge and nothing more. 

        “That’s why I bought those last night while I was out!” The bed shifts as Oikawa rises from the bed, giving you a show of skin as he strips off his night clothes and dresses in the newly purchased snow pants and boots. 

        “I swear to God if you don’t let me go back to sleep I’m to suffocate you with my pillow before sleeping on top of both of you.”

        “Well that’s vivid.”

        “It’s also very desirable right now.”

        Oikawa pouts, zipping up a puffy jacket to his chin before shoving a beanie on his head and dropping back onto the bed next to you. “Come on, YN! I wanna build a snowman!”

        “I swear to God if you start singing-”

        “Do you wanna build a snowm-mmphf!”

        A pillow thwaps Oikawa in the face and you drop back to the bed with a groan. “Fineeee, so long as you shut up and don’t ever sing that song again, I will go outside and build a snowman with you.”

        “Oh come on, it’s tradition!”

                                ~~~

        Okay, so maybe you weren’t a morning person and perhaps Oikawa had been right. Though the weather may as well have left you feeling stranded naked in the Arctic, passing up the opportunity to build a snowman with your boyfriend on one of the few days both of you had off together would have been a terrible decision. 

        Feeling like a toddler wrapped in twenty-ply toilet paper, you stumbled down the stairs of the complex and out into the freezing cold of nature. The snow pants and boots Oikawa bought for you sagged just a tad on your hips and you had to constantly readjust them with one gloved hand while the other held firmly onto your boyfriend’s as he led you out into the open space between the building and the parking lot. 

        Snow still fell in small bundles, settling into your hair and onto Oikawa’s hat, slowly and surely soaking in and freezing all at the same time. The sky was a chilled gray, the sun a distant glowing orb in the sky that could never overpower the precipitating clouds that laid claim on the sky. A wind brushed the stray hairs from your face and bit at your cheeks, bringing with more flakes that settled onto the tips of your lashes effortlessly. 

        Every footprint you and a grinning Oikawa left behind revealed there was a solid nine inches of snow that crushed the dark green grass underneath. A laugh left your companion as he tugged you farther along, barging through the piles of white that seemed reluctant to move. 

        “Okay,” Oikawa declared, turning back to you with a pink nose and cheeks as his breaths left puffs in the air. “What should we do first?”

        The childlike glimmer of excitement in your eyes made the smile on your face grow full-fledged. Then a devious thought came to your mind. “Well,” you tapped your chin in faux deliberation, pulling your hand out of his to set it on your hip, “I suppose we could…”

        Without another word, you pressed both hands on Oikawa’s chest and pushed as hard as possible, letting out a laugh at the split-second betrayed look on his face before his black-coated form disappeared in a cloud of snow. 

        It took him a second to recover as you went into hysterics, folding your arms around your stomach as you guffawed. Oikawa propped himself up on his elbows and blew a hair out of his face with a pout. 

        “You’re gonna pay for that.”

        And before you knew it, your open-mouthed laughter was interrupted with a choke as snow met your tongue and teeth. 

        Small clumps of flakes stuck to your forehead and chin as you gasped, trying to wipe away the cold in vain as Oikawa rose from the ground, two more snowballs already rounded off in his hands. 

        “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Tooru,” you warned, stepping back and keeping watchful eyes on both of his armed hands.

        “Oh, come on, babe.” Oikawa grinned a sly grin that told you you had awoken a beast. “You know I can’t let you off the hook after that.”

        And the battle commenced. 

        Somehow even in the freezing cold you were working up a sweat, ducking and dodging as many snowballs as you could while firing off your own. 

        Sometimes you would hit Oikawa in his long legs as he dove away from a throw and sometimes he would hit you back in the arms or chest while you hurried to build a fort to protect yourself. At a certain point, both of you had built fortresses that were each a solid three feet high. Oikawa had gone for the simple-yet-classic snow wall tactic while you crafted a small barrier as long as your wingspan that surrounded your front and sides, packing snow on top of solidifying snow while Oikawa occasionally knocked off a solid chunk that required you to handle damage control. 

        Your teeth began to instinctively chatter as the snow that hit your face melted off and slid down your jacket, soaking into Oikawa’s t-shirt underneath. Every so often you would have to tug your gloves back down after they slid up during your construction efforts, allowing cold clumps to stick to your skin and leave patches of irritated red in their wake. 

        But you were distracted for just a second too long playing defense and that was all Oikawa needed. 

        A shadow fell over your work as you began to carve a makeshift window in your fort, punching a hand through the thick wall of snow in order to keep an eye on your enemy as you worked--however, such efforts seemed futile as you slowly turned around to see a towering Oikawa with two armfuls of snow prepped and angled right over your head. 

        You had been too focused on your own shaky breaths and mutters that you haven’t even heard him army crawling behind you and gathering up an avalanche to bury you under. 

        “Oh shi-” flumph.

        Oikawa tipped his head back and released a maniacal laugh as snow piled in your lap and atop your head, making you look like the snowman he’d wanted to build this morning. 

        “Looks like I’ve won this war, YN,” he nodded to himself, dusting off his white-sprinkled blue pants and puffy jacket. “Though, to be fair, it was well fought. You must’ve just gotten too distracted by your opponent’s dazzling looks to notice he’d already trapped you in a corner, and nobody can blame you. I guess I’m just too-AGH!”

        In two seconds you went from partial abominable snowman on the frozen ground to tackling Oikawa to the ground and straddling his chest, dropping two handfuls of snow into his face as he screeched. 

        “What were you saying about victory, Tooru?” you sniggered, stealing the hat right off his head and pressing it onto your own. “Distracted opponent and whatnot? Kinda makes me wonder who really won this…”

        Oikawa coughed up a snowball as you used all your weight to roll off him and settle onto the floor next to him, just far enough away that you could spread your arms up over your head and down back to your side. Just as you worked to spread your legs and arms in synchronization to complete your snow angel, two folded arms dropped onto your stomach before a head plopped on top relaxedly, forcing a large cloud of air out of your mouth. 

        “I don’t know, babe,” Oikawa mumbled, adjusting right on top of you so he could lean over and draw patterns into the snow with a single finger right next to your other side. Each time he shifted, a bony elbow dug even harder into your stomach, forcing noises out of your mouth no different from the choking sounds of a floundering seal. “I really think we could call it a tie right here.” 

        With one dazzling smile sent your way, Oikawa moved so he was laying entirely on top of you, legs tangling with yours and all before he moved to straddle your hips. “Never,” you choked out, helplessly wiggling underneath him. “Ugh, get off me fatass.”

        “Hey! I’ve been watching my weight before the season!” He pressed a finger to your forehead after dodging every hand you tried to bat him away with. “I’ll have you know this is all muscle, but I don’t believe you need such proof after last night.”

        You gagged at the eyebrows he waggled at you before mustering enough energy to roll onto your stomach right underneath him and army crawl out, finally free from his weight. “Don’t be such a perv.” You rolled your eyes, standing up and staring down at him with your arms akimbo. 

        Oikawa’s lips curled up into a smirk as he rose to his feet, approaching you with eyes narrowed enough to have you waiting for his next words. “You know, you weren’t this shy last night either.”

        “Shut up!” You blamed the pink tint of your cheeks on the cold and smacked his arm, spinning away when he yelped in surprise. 

        “Hey!” When you kept your back to him, he huffed out a sigh and made his way closer to you, so close his entire body was pressed against you. Two arms slithered around your waist and a freezing nose traced a path up along the side of your exposed throat. 

        When you relaxed into his hold and leaned your head away to allow him more room to tease, Oikawa hummed in thought and pressed a kiss to the skin, hands tightening on your hips. 

        “Let’s go back inside, baby,” he murmured, peppering more and more pecks along your skin until he had enough of the back-to-front issue and spun you around, pressing his forehead against yours. Both of your puffs of air now mingled together as he spoke, his brown eyes trailing from your warm gaze to your red cheeks to the plump lips your tongue just couldn’t seem to leave alone. “We need to do something to… warm up.”

        The innocence that fell over your face, no matter how fake, made his jaw clench and his body grow still. 

        “But I thought you wanted to build a snowman?”

                                ~~~

        You shivered under the mounds of blankets on the bed, wearing nothing but the soaked hat on your head as Oikawa entered the room with only a sheet covering his bare form. Two steaming cups of hot chocolate piled high with marshmallows were held in his hands, one of which he held out to you after shutting the door to the bedroom and dimming the lights. 

        The sun outside was long gone, instead leaving the moon to shine and reflect off the layers of snow that you and Oikawa had ruffled up hours earlier. 

        You accepted the mug with a soft smile and scooted over, making room as Oikawa shrugged off the blanket completely, leaving himself uncovered to the cold still circling in the room. 

        “As much as I like your staring, YN, a wolf whistle is always appreciated every now and then.” 

        You only wiggled your brows and blew a kiss at him over your mug, giggling when he gawked and muttered “Perv” under his breath. 

        Oikawa wasted no time grabbing his own mug off the nightstand, settling in beside you with an arm wrapped around your hips to keep you curled into his side. As the movie began, he let out a long sigh and pressed two marshmallow-flavored lips to your forehead, grinning when you nuzzled in closer. 

        “Ugh, Frozen? Really?”

        “Shhh,” Oikawa whispered. “You’re gonna miss the song.” You could only roll your eyes and lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and soft humming to the music. 

        And as “Do You Wanna Build a Snowman” faintly played through the shining window of your apartment, two snowmen sitting just outside with pebbles for eyes and carrots for noses froze and solidified under the light of the stars, their makeshift twig arms still holding hands.

Pretending to Moan Another Guy’s Name (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: Hehehe, I’m s i c k. Anyways, here’s a rly long headcanon that I’ve been thinking about writing for a while. Some are short and some are long, but hey, that’s life🤷‍♀️ Enjoy! (Side note: been a while since I did a milestone, but hey, this one’s huge--happy 4k y’all💜!!)

Word count: 2705

Oikawa Tooru: 

He’s dead silent, waiting to hear that name fall from your lips one more time just to make sure he wasn’t having a nightmare. 

“Ushiwaka…”

Nope. He wasn’t. He pinched himself five times to prove it. 

Oikawa can’t stand the thought of you dreaming about one of his greatest enemies. His hands curl into fists and his bottom lip gets drawn in by his teeth and, if you hadn’t been so busy trying to fend off your own laughter, you might’ve heard the small whine leaving the back of his throat. 

The bed shifts with Oikawa’s weight leaving it imbalanced and just when you prepare yourself to stop him in his tracks with a giggle, the bedroom door slams hard enough to rattle framed photographs of you and him on the walls. 

Okay… so maybe you had gone too far. 

Stunned into silence, it takes you a couple minutes to recover from your boyfriend’s outburst. When you finally find the strength to breach the cold air of one a.m. goosebumps rise along your skin and you decide to wrap a blanket around your shoulders. 

Lord knows damage control with Oikawa always required a solid chunk of time. 

You find him in the kitchen of the apartment, seated on a stool with his elbows propped on the oak-finished island with two fistfuls of hair and a downcast face. 

Unsurprisingly enough, your prank no longer felt like the genius idea you’d thought it was three hours ago. 

“Tooru?” Your voice is small so as to not disturb him, but his lack of movement makes you think you have almost been too successful in your efforts. 

“Tooru,” you move to lay your hand on his shoulder, “please.” However, the second you make contact he flinches away like you’d burned him. The room is silent once more, but as you keep your hand hovering over his back, you hear a quiet sniffle. 

Oh God, what have I done?

Without another word, you grasp both ends of the blanket and wrap both it and yourself around Oikawa, attaching yourself to his back with a tight enough grip that he can’t shake you off, which, trust me, he certainly tries his best. 

Like a fish out of water, he writhes and thrashes in your hold and in that split second that you think How the hell do I get him to stop this? he’s managed to wriggle himself so hard that the stool and you behind him lose balance, toppling to the floor like a Jenga tower. 

“Oh shit!”

Oikawa, ever so graceful, lands directly on top of you, his lean shoulders crashing hard enough into your chest that you wheeze out the oxygen trapped inside. The stool almost spun and clattered right on top of both of you before Oikawa kicked it away hard enough that it crashed against the metal fridge and slid all the way out into the living room. 

In the dead of night, the noises were loud enough to increase the ringing in your ears that had started when your head slapped against the linoleum floor. Oikawa was still squirming against you but for an entirely different reason now. 

“Fuck--YN, YN! Are you okay?” Still sitting on top of you, another breath gets squeezed out of your chest the second Oikawa rolls over to straddle you. One hand lifts your head, palming frantically at your scalp while the other shoves under your shirt to feel your ribs. 

“Could you,” you choke out, “get off me before I answer that?”

A startled scoff leaves his mouth before he slides off you and onto the floor at your side, helping you sit up while still trailing his eyes up and down your form to search for injury. Not that he could see much--the only light in the apartment was filtering through the kitchen window and came from the quarter moon in the sky. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You bat away his hands but can’t stop your own from trailing up and rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out his cheeks were damp with tears. From the way he sniffled to the way he blinked every .5 seconds, you knew tonight had been a sudden emotional roller coaster for him. 

“Yeah,” he glanced away nodding. “Yep, all good here.” 

“Bullshit.”

Oikawa gave you a scandalized stare and all you could do was sigh before scooting over to him, getting settled criss-cross style before palming both of his cheeks and yanking his face down to yours. 

“I know when you’re lying to me, Tooru, and I know exactly why you’re lying to me right now.”

His first instinct was to roll his eyes and pull away, but you pulled him back harder, hard enough that he flashed his wide eyes to yours in surprise. 

“It was a prank, babe.” Ah yes, the words that turn every boy into goo. 

Oikawa clenched his jaw and wrapped his hands around your wrists. “The “yanking me off my stool so I can crush your ribs” thing or the “I’m gonna moan your enemy’s name so you almost have a heart attack and cry enough tears to flood a river” thing?”

“The “I’m gonna moan your enemy’s name so you-’”

Oikawa slammed his lips against yours, effectively drowning out any of the dumb-ass explanations you had waiting on your tongue. 

“Your pranks are always so mean, baby,” Oikawa mumbles against your lips. “Do you know how much it hurt to think that you were dreaming about being with another man?”

“Did it even matter that it was-”

“No,” he pecks your lips once more before rising to his feet and tugging you to yours. “No, the name didn’t matter at all.”

“Well damn, that’s a shame, because I was stuck between moaning Ushiwaka or Kag-”

“Here’s the thing, sweetheart: I don’t wanna hear another name aside from my own come out of your mouth for the rest of the night. Understood?”

“I-”

“Understood?” You sigh. 

“Yes sir.”

Tsukishima Kei:

Ouch.

One long finger pokes into your cheek, hard.

You’d barely even gotten the first two syllables of the ginger’s name off your tongue before Tsukishima was at the ready, stabbing you in the face with a fingernail you were almost positive you’d seen being filed down just hours ago. 

Bastard must’ve been faking it.

“Don’t say that,” Tsukishima grunts out tiredly, accompanying a yawn with yet another jab. 

Part of you wondered if there was a point to even keeping up the act, but the other part was so pissed you almost wanted Tsukishima to worry that it was real. 

You mumbled the random nonsense of the average person waking from a deep slumber and opened your eyes just to squint at the blond in bed beside you. 

“Wha…?”

In pure darkness, you could barely see Tsukishima narrowing his gaze back at you, half because he was pissed and half because he was lacking his glasses. 

He thrusts a finger right in the middle of your forehead. “Don’t ever moan that name again.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” You fake yawn, closing your eyes before rolling over to have your back face him. 

“I’m not stupid, YN.”

“Are you sure about that, Kei?”

He scoffs. “Fine, then. I’ll play along to this pointless game.”

The mattress quakes as Tsukishima shifts onto his knees, grabbing your hip with a single hand and tugging it hard enough that your back presses flat against the sheets before he throws a leg over your thighs, straddling you with ease. 

“Is this what you wanted?” One hand of his grabs yours, pulling it up above your head. Your breathing is more like gasping at this point as Tsukishima trails his other hand down your side. 

“Were you trying to make me so jealous that I’d do this?”

“Kei…”

“‘Cause, YN, you could’ve just asked.”

At last, your other wrist is trapped and joins the one over your head, Tsukishima’s long fingers easily holding down both of your hands with just one of his. 

“So, do you want to tell me what that shrimp did to you in this “dream” of yours?”

“Kei…” Was it so hard to pull a juicy reaction out of him? You wanted hugs, tears, maybe even a little begging. 

Of course, leave it to Tsukishima to always find a way to be above you. 

Tsukishima can see the fight die in your eyes and his own glow in return. 

“Really,” he hums, “that was all it took?”

“Jackass.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser, YN. Plus, we both know that prank of yours was impractical at best.” He slides off you, returning to his side of the bed and propping himself up on a single elbow to face you. “I’ve heard you moan my name plenty of times in your sleep to know when you’re actually having a wet dream.”

The smirk on his face makes you warm and fuzzy yet angry all at the same time. In retaliation, you jab a finger into his forehead before spinning face away from him once again. “Don’t get too cocky there, Kei. One day I might actually dream about another guy,” you fold your arms, “then what are you gonna do?”

Two arms wind around your stomach before yanking you back into a firm chest, then a single leg creeps between the two of yours. “Please, we both know I’m the only man you even think about.”

Though he sounded so self-assured, the tightness of his grip spoke differently. You reveled in the idea that he was just a bit self-conscious of that fact. Because although you’d never say it to his face...

The smug bastard was always right.

Tendou Satori: 

“Semi,” you moaned.

“Semi,” Tendou mocked. 

“Mmm, don’t stop.”

“Mmm, don’t stop.”

At first, you almost choked on the drool gathering in your mouth the instant you heard Tendou fake-moan along with you. 

Now, it was a contest of how long you could keep a straight face. 

All the lights were on in the room. The blinds were yanked open and the birds chirping out the arrival of morning tweeted from a tree just outside the window. 

You’d woken up when Tendou left to take a shower itching to prank him. At the time, it seemed perfect. 

Now your chest hurt with how much laughter you kept locked inside. The second he stepped out of the bathroom with steam rolling off his body, you decided it was time to put your plan in motion. 

Oh what a mistake it was. 

“More.”

“More.”

Tendou squated right next to your side of the bed, crossed both arms on the mattress just two inches from your face, dropped his chin on top and proceeded to parrot your every word. 

“Harder. More, please Semi.”

“Yeah, harder Semi, you grandpa-haired, shorter-than-me, cries-at-the-Titanic-movie, girlfriend-stealing son of a bitch.”

And just when you sputtered out a breathless laugh, Tendou rose from his crouch and stalked out of the room, towel wrapped over his head and shoulders like a black Sith robe. 

In the kitchen, pots and pans clattered like Tendou was trying to get the attention of the entire city, at one point even walking back and forth in front of the doorway slamming two frying pans against one another. 

“Oh no, I can’t find that spatula!” your boyfriend called out before proceeding to toss out every single appliance in the drawer, allowing them to clang and clash against the wood like they were literally raining from the ceiling. 

What was funny at first was now a major issue for the rest of the apartment complex--it seemed Tendou had gone mad enough that he was risking getting (yet another) noise complaint that would once and for all kick you both out of the building. 

Ever so in a rush, you slid out of the blankets and made haste toward the kitchen down the hall, stopping in the doorway and dropping your jaw at the sight. 

Tendou, maroon eyes flashing with jealousy, held a porcelain plate up over his head with the obvious intent to throw it against the ground and create an even bigger mess. 

Luckily, his eyes darted toward you at the last second. 

“Hey,” he grinned with eyes so wide and hair so frazzled you actually thought he’d gone insane for a split second, “look who’s up!”

“Satori…” you made your way over to him, precarious step by precarious step. Tongs, pizza cutters, and ice cream scoopers littered the floor while all of your pots and pans lay on the countertop in a pile almost up to Tendou’s shoulder, “what the hell is going on?”

His smile faltered for a second before it came back even larger than normal; his eyes, however, stayed darkened. “Just trying to make breakfast! But I couldn’t find that damned griddle we use for pancakes.”

“Probably because we threw it out four months ago.” Uh oh, you’d finally broken him. 

“Oh…”

“Yeah…”

The pandemonium in the kitchen was nothing compared to the frantic look in Tendou’s eyes, though. They flitted up and down, up and down along your body, looking for something you were almost positive wasn’t there. 

Then he spoke. 

“So… how did you sleep?”

Tense. Tight. Deep. The question sounded like someone had strangled it out of him, and you didn’t dare glance up from collecting the appliances littered on the floor for fear of seeing the pain in his eyes. 

“Satori… I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” With arms full of disarrayed utensils, you hesitantly looked towards the sink where you aimed to drop them off, only to find Tendou bent over and waiting to meet your eyes. The words had slipped off his tongue right as you finished your sentence. 

“The moaning… like, when I moaned Semi’s name and stuff.” Maintaining eye contact at this point was basically impossible for you and instead you settled for watching your feet as they shifted your weight nervously. “It was just a prank and I didn’t think it would get to you so bad. I’m sorry. Really.”

The atmosphere in the room grew ten times stiffer, almost choking you up--you never thought such a thing was possible with a relaxed guy like Tendou present. 

Evidently, you were wrong. 

“It was all a joke?”

“Yes.”

“Like, it was just a prank?”

“Yes.”

“To see how I’d react and stuff?”

“Yep.”

“Phew,” Tendou pressed a hand against his forehead and let out a laugh. “Almost lost my cool there.”

Your jaw dropped to the floor and you glanced around at the kitchen. Tendou didn’t seem to mind your temporary shock, though, as he guided you over to the sink to dispose of the utensils before wrapping you in a hug. “Don’t ever,” he grumbled, voice suddenly deeper and huskier, “ever do something like that again.” Then he pulled away. “Now,” Tendou grinned, “how’s about we go out for breakfast?”

You stayed frozen in place, eyes flitting from the floor to Tendou’s suddenly normal smile back to the floor again. 

Then you kicked him in the shin. 

“Ow, what the hell was that for?!”

You sputtered out a laugh from deep in your chest that was bordering on maniacal. “Oh-ho no, I am so not cleaning up this mess. That’s your problem, mister.” Then you pressed a small kiss to his cheek. “I will, however, go pick us up some breakfast and bring it back here though.”

Then you yanked him into a hug and forced his ear to your lips, lowering your tone deeply and darkly. “And this place better be spotless when I come back.” You pulled back with a smile before skipping to the front door and Tendou could only watch with a gleaming grin on his face. 

God, he loved you.

“You better not be going to see Semi while you’re out!” He received the bird in return.

“Love you too, babe!”

The Miracle of Childbirth (Oikawa x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Yours and Oikawa’s children were the most amazing creatures on Earth… except when they acted like munchkin-sized pain in the asses. 

A/N: Here’s a little imagine to celebrate 500 fUcKiNg followers, like holy shit!! Goddamn that’s amazing tysm :)))! (Also, it hasn’t actually happened yet, but I’m like two followers away so I’m gonna count it cuz I’ll be busy tomorrow.)  It’s more Oikawa shit bc he’s just a hot piece of flat ass, and I’m dying for more domestic stuff w him. I got it from this prompt by @otpdisaster​, so enjoy!

Word count: 880

        There was no greater feeling than when you first looked into your twin children’s eyes while lying in your hospital bed. They were your shade, but had the long, curled lashes of their father. Aiko already had Tooru’s smug smirk down, and Reo had his brown tufts. 

        “They’re beautiful,” you had whispered, cooing softly when Reo wrapped his miniature fingers around your pinkie. Tooru nodded softly at your bedside, cradling your little girl in his arms and smiling down at her. 

        “They’re perfect,” he mumbled back, running a gentle thumb over her cheek. “They’re gonna be the best volleyball players on this side of the world.” You giggle lightly and shake your head while brushing over your boy’s fuzzy scalp, hugging his swaddled form closer to your chest. 

        “I’m sure.” You sigh happily as your husband pecks Aiko’s forehead, causing her to let out a small huff. 

        Every chubby little foot, every puffy tummy was gorgeous in your guys’ eyes. Nothing they could ever do would ruin the way you viewed them as the lights of your lives. They were nothing short of miracles. 

        Except for when they acted like little gremlins. 

        “WE CAPTURED THE DEMON!” You pause at the words and stare confusedly at the door. With a furrowed brow, you unlock your home and step inside, only to see a literal nightmare. 

        Stray pillows and blankets were splayed everywhere in your living room. The couch was cushionless and there was a homemade fort in the center of it all. It was primarily supported by four dining chairs dragged out onto the lounge’s carpet, but had a barrier that consisted of the sofa’s fundamental sections and stuffed animals from the children’s rooms. Two hefty comforters overlapped above its foundation and stood as an accessible entrance to the inside. 

        Both Aiko and Reo ran circles around the fortress with victorious war cries, waving their nerf guns wildly above their heads. “We captured the demon! We captured the demon!” Their yells echoed throughout the whole house as they scrambled up the stairs, presumably to grab more ammo. You, throughout all of this, had watched in a mixture of horror and amusement. 

        “Tooru?” you called out, glancing around the house for any sight of your husband. 

        “Mmmpf mmpf!” A muffled voice hummed from within the fort. Releasing a heavy sigh, you set down your keys and purse on the coffee table before kneeling down on the carpet. You crawl on your hands and knees to the fort, pushing aside a blanket and peering in. The sight before you was almost laughable. 

        Surrounded by a barrage of nerf darts and duct taped to a flimsy tea party chair was Tooru, gagged with a bundled pair of socks. Glitter sparkled in his brown hair and one plastic dart stood like a unicorn horn from his head while he frowned at you. 

        You could only smirk. “Need a little help?” He narrows his eyes, throwing a lazy glare your way. . 

        “Plugh,” he spits out the sock, “Welcome home.” 

        “Gee thanks,” you snicker before gesturing up and down at him. “So what, uh, what happened here?”

        “Our children might become criminals.” He shakes his head wildly to loosen his forehead decoration, but it sticks like a piece of gum on the underside of a table. Tossing his head back in frustration, he lets out a loud groan before wiggling his captivated form at you. “You mind?”

        “I guess I must.” You decide to show him pity and unwrap his hands, snorting when you rip off some arm hair. 

        “Owwie!” he pouts while rubbing his wrists, rising up from the plastic pink chair. After flicking away the nerf dart, you lead the way back into the outside world and Tooru squints at the change in lighting. 

        “How long were you in there?”

        “Too long,” his eyes are haunted while he stares disorientedly at the wall. “I can’t believe my own children think I’m a demon.”

        “Yeah, well, I’m the evil mom who won’t buy them McDonald’s every night. We all got problems.” As daily tradition, you peck his lips softly before walking into the kitchen to prepare dinner. 

        “What’s on the menu tonight?” He follows you and winds his arms around your waist, settling his chin on your shoulder while you sift through the cupboards. 

        “Green bean casserole.”

        Two gasps sound from behind you. 

        “Oh no, they’re both demons now!” Reo exclaims.

        “GET ‘EM!” Aiko shouts, and suddenly you’re being used as a human shield while Tooru screeches behind you in terror. Neft darts begin hit you in savory and unsavory places, and one even pokes you in the eye before-

        “Hey, look, now Mommy’s a unicorn too!”

Across the Hall (Oikawa x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Across the hall lived Oikawa, a smug womanizer who never knew how to confront his one-night stands after their five minutes of fame. To avoid confrontation, he repeatedly seeks refuge in your apartment, or in his case, in your bed. But what happens when you start to grow feelings for this amorous neighbor of yours?

A/N: (It’s not five am! Yay me!) This is an au prompt called “You live across the hall and you hide in my apartment when you want to avoid your one-night stands” I got from this list. My god, I wanted this to be so much better than it actually was. If even a single person likes this, I will be eternally grateful. I sincerely hope you guys like this one! 

Word count: 5678

        Your apartment complex was filled with… a different kind of people. The tenants below you, one ginger and one blunet, bickered like no other. Meanwhile, the renters above you, one with a buzzcut and one with black hair and a bleached tuft, constantly watched and fawned over Next Top Model. It was all weird, but the most curious one of all was the man who lived across from you. 

        He was a womanizer with no sense of personal space, and constantly holed up in your apartment to wait out his one-night stands. Over the months, you two became friends, and while you repeatedly offered to let him hide and rest in your spare bedroom, he never seemed to appreciate the offer. Instead, he had a tenacious habit of crawling into your bed space and wrapping his arms around you with the claim that he couldn’t sleep without cuddling something. No matter how many pillows you chucked at him, you seemed to be his most favorite teddy bear.

        Tonight was no different, and your heart fluttered when he pulled you tighter into his chest. He had woken you up instantly, and he was lucky that you were too tired to be pissed off by the act. 

        “Oikawa,” you mumble lazily, rubbing the tiredness away from your eyes, “you know I only gave you that key for emergencies, right?”

        “But this is an emergency, YN. The girls never leave unless I’m not there when they wake up.”

        “Then maybe you should stop hooking up with random women.”

        “I don’t see the issue.”

        “Mhm,” you hum, rolling over in his embrace and yawning in his face. He gags at the smell and you smirk. “You know there’s a perfectly good couch for you to sleep on, right?”

        “It’s extremely uncomfortable, I can’t stand that thing. I don’t know why you bought it.”

        “Okay, then what about my spare room?” 

        “I’ve slept in there too! And trust me, nothing is more comfortable than this bed right-” Oikawa’s ranting is cut off by a frantic knock on your door. With a sigh, you nod your head towards the hall of your apartment and raise a brow. 

        “Is that tonight’s expedition?” He gives you a bashful smile.

        “Possibly.” Rolling your eyes, you scramble out of your bed and trudge out of your room. The banging is about to rip your door right off its hinges. As it shivers from the force, Oikawa trails timidly behind you and peeks over your shoulder at the sight. 

        “What, did you bang a pro-wrestler or something?” You’re judging him so hard right now. 

        “Ugh, YN. So unfeminine. I don’t ‘bang,’ I make love.” 

        “To a rhino?” You watch with wide eyes as your front door trembles before approaching it slowly. 

        “Maybe.” Oikawa opts to cower behind the island in your kitchen, which is adjacent to the entrance of your apartment and in a perfect position for him to not be spotted. 

        “Wonderful,” you mutter, hesitantly placing a hand on the knob and opening the barricade to the beast. “Can I help you?” you ask, plastering on a fake smile.

        Your neighbor’s one-night stand looks like she just stepped out of a magazine. With wavy blonde hair and long, tan legs, she seemed like the type to squash men under her designer stilettos and not bat an eye. Exactly his type.

        “Yes, I’m looking for my… boyfriend Tooru,” she glances inside your apartment suspiciously, getting a little too close for comfort. “Have you seen him?”

        “Umm, nope. Haven’t seen him.” You boredly blink at her and keep a hand on the door just in case she tries to barge inside. 

        “Well, if you do, could you tell him Sakura is looking for him?” She flashes you a dazzling smile that almost burns your irises.

        “Sure.”

        “Thanks! I’ll see you around!” Waving goodbye, she disappears inside the apartment across from yours, presumably to relocate her clothes from the night before. 

        “Not likely,” you mumble gruffly, slamming the door. You step into your kitchen only to find Oikawa casually eating a bowl of cereal on a stool at your counter. He shoots you an incredulous look.

        “She didn’t see me, right?!”

        “Oh no, of course not.” You snatch the breakfast away and munch on a bite of Cheerios. “Your girlfriend didn’t notice you stealing my food out in the open like a buttnugget.”

        “I am not a ‘buttnugget’! And I’d prefer you not speak with your mouth full.” You stick your tongue out at him and he grimaces at the bits of chewed food still visible. “Nasty. Anyways, she’s not my girlfriend.” 

        “I guess you’re right,” you shrug, plopping onto a stool next to his, “she’s more like the love of your life.” You waggle your eyebrows at him and he scoffs while pushing your shoulder playfully. 

        “Not in a million years.” He rises from his seat and smoothly presses his ear to the door before checking the peephole. “Coast is clear. You should probably go back to bed, YN. Get some more of that beauty rest you so desperately need.”

        “Bite me,” you grumble around a mouthful of cereal. 

        “I just might.” With a wink, he disappears out into the hall and back into his own home. The feeling of disappointment when he left wasn’t unknown to you, but you didn’t want to mull over it right now. Instead, you purse your lips and stand to wash the now-empty bowl, catching a glimpse of your clock on the way. 

        “Three a.m! What the fuck?!” Now that you know, the darkness outside your windows makes a lot more sense. Fortunately, it’s a Saturday, and it’s also not the first time Oikawa has required your help in fending off his nighttime companions. You’re used to it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t ream his ass about it every time you’re a little more conscious and awake. 

        “Goddamnit Oikawa.”

                                ***

It happens again, and again, and again. And every time it does, your feelings for him grow just a bit more, weirdly enough. On those early mornings that you wake up to him sliding into your bed and winding himself around you, you can’t help but wish it was for an entirely different reason. Sadly, reality was that he was just trying to escape his nightly mistakes. 

        Some days, you rouse to the smell of bacon wafting into the room. Others, he slips in and out before you even stir, leaving only a couple pancakes and a thank you note in his wake. 

        It’s been more than a year of this. A year of your apartment being used as a hideout, and of you being used as snuggly aftercare. Finally, you’ve decided you’ve had enough. You made a plan to confess at Christmas while you exchange gifts. 

        “Oh wow!” You hold up the hand-written slip of paper with an amused smile. It had been packaged in several wrapped cardboard boxes, and you had spent twenty minutes removing and ripping open one after the other while Oikawa busted a gut. “A limited time coupon for one free booty call!” You shake your head with a small chortle while he snickers at the gift. 

        “I even laminated it.”

        “Yes, yes you did,” you snort, flapping the “coupon” in the air. Holiday music plays softly in the background and you're both wrapped in blankets. A televised campfire crackles on the screen behind Oikawa, and the only thing brightening up your living room is the medium-sized, ornamented tree near the two of you, tinging the air with the scent of spruce and cinnamon. 

        “All right, I suppose I’ll save this for later.” You slip his gift under your thigh and hand him your own, in a red and green bag with tissue paper sticking out the top. “Now open mine!” 

        He smiles and digs his hand inside, crinkling around while he guesses, “Is it… a blanket?”

        “Nope.”

        “Is it… a t-shirt that says ‘I’m with stupid’?”

        “No, you jerk!” You laugh and smack his knee. “Just open it!”

        “If it’s worse than my gift, you totally owe me.” 

        “That’s literally not possible.” He gasps dramatically at you and finally pulls out the clothing. It’s a sweatshirt you had made especially for him. On the front was the logo for Boys’ Volleyball Nationals, and his eyes gleam in delight. Then he flips it around and reads the back. 

        “‘Number One Spectator’?!” He gawks at you in offense and you can’t hold back your giggles. While you crack up, he repeatedly glances between you and the sweatshirt with a pout. 

        “You totally owe me for this, YN!” 

        “I can’t! Oh, this is too good!” you guffaw, wiping tears away from your eyes. Suddenly, Oikawa tackles you to the floor, both hands beginning to attack your sides in a flurry of tickles. 

        “Oh shit!” you screech, twisting back and forth to try and escape. Your attempts are futile. 

        “Say you’re sorry!” One of his hands capture both of your wrists and hold them above your head so you couldn’t fight him. 

        “Never!” Your flabs ache while you wheeze out the occasional laugh. 

        “You’re so mean, YN!” He scolds with a wagging finger before instantly assaulting your exposed sides once more. “Just say your sorry!”

        “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” you cry out with a giggle, gulping in large amounts of air when he finally stops. 

        “You’re forgiven,” he nods with a lopsided grin, still holding your hands hostage. A long moment passes as you relax and catch your breath, his gaze never leaving your flushed face, but when you can finally think properly again, you realize the compromising position you both are in. 

        He’s straddling your hips, one pressed against each side while his face leers over your own. Never before have you noticed just how dark his brown eyes are, and you can’t help but spot the occasional gold fleck while you lose yourself in them. With a gulp, you rub your thighs together and lick your lips. The action instantly grabs his attention, and Oikawa tightens his grip on your wrists before slowly lowering himself closer to you. A small part of you wants to wait, wants to let your relationship grow stronger, but the rest of you yearns to live in the moment and enjoy it while you have the chance. You pick your side, and clasp your eyes shut to brace yourself. Then it happens.

        There’s no explosions or fireworks like the books, but every single one of your nerves twinge with sparks. His lips are soft as they gently caress your own, taking their time to memorize the feeling. His brunet locks brush against your forehead and he carefully releases his hold on you, trailing his hands down to cup your cheeks while his tongue begs for entrance. Losing yourself in the moment, you allow it access, teasing and battling him for dominance with your own while you tenderly dig your fingers into his hair, combing and tugging on the strands as the kiss grows more heated. You separate for just a split second and Oikawa doesn’t stray far. In an instant, he’s biting and sucking on the smooth skin along your chin, using one arm to support himself over you while the other angles your head perfectly for his lips. Pain mingles with pleasure as his teeth graze and nip your delicate flesh. 

        “Tooru,” you whimper, and he grunts deeply in response. You yank on his tangled tufts harder, mewling his name repeatedly while he moves lower to leave love bites up and down your neck. He pecks the bruises soothingly and groans at the feeling of your hands pulling harshly in reaction to the sting. 

        “What do you want, YN?” He coos, words whispered against your skin. The sensation leaves you writhing beneath him. 

        “You.” 

                                ***

        That night, the coupon was left forgotten on the floor, but its offer had been used.

        The next day, you picked it up with a sniffle and dumped it into the trash while you gathered your clothes from around the living room. Like every other girl he had been with, he left during the middle of the night. 

        Unlike the mornings where you were shaken awake by him holding you close, you were all alone while viewing the sunrise through your blinds this time. 

        With puffy cheeks, you made yourself some instant coffee and downed it, ignoring the burn and the fresh numbness of your tongue now. You breathe out shakily and set the empty mug in the sink before preparing to take a shower. Every one of your movements was passively lifeless. Each footstep dragged against the floor, and every heartbeat in your chest pained you. 

        Under the scalding water, you scrubbed away the memory as best as you could, leaving your skin raw and aching, but you could still feel a semblance of his touch.

        In the mirror, purple blemishes littered every inch of your body from your chin to your calves. The sight of them reminded you of what exactly had scared him off. 

        His head was buried in the back of your neck as he nibbled on the skin there. You sighed happily, reveling in the afterglow of your love-making while relaxing further into the bed. Ever so slowly, you trail a hand down to your hips and interlock your fingers with his own, leading him to peck your nape gently. 

        “I love you,” you confess quietly. It was the heat of the moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. His body tenses behind you and his hand squeezes yours tightly for just a second. 

        “Oh.” The word, if that’s what it was, doesn’t sink in, and you fall asleep with a small smile on your face, pressing your back against his chest comfortingly. 

        At the time, you didn’t know. You had finally been with the man you loved, and he didn’t return your feelings. You wanted to be angry, enraged, or vengeful, but you were just sad. Ashamed of yourself and what you had done the night before. 

        In the past, you thought you meant more to Oikawa than his one night stands. You had seen the fake smiles he put up around them, and they never compared to the authentic grins he gave you. He joked with you, opened up to you, spent time with you and always seemed to want you around. Oh, how wrong you were to believe he would feel the same. 

                                ***

        Your employers weren't exactly okay with the fact that you had skipped about a month of work to wallow in self-pity, so they fired you. This unfortunate fact led you to search for a roommate, someone who could help you pay the rent while you job-hunted. You got an offer, and today he was moving in. 

        “YN?!” A familiar voice echoed from your apartment’s hallway, followed by a knocking on wood. “YN?!”

        “Oikawa?” You hesitantly make eye contact with him while hauling your groceries up the stairs. He’s in front of your door surrounded by cardboard boxes, and his face looks flushed with distress. 

        “YN, are you moving out?!” It’s the first time he’s talked to you since he left, and you want to beat the crap out of him with the hope that it would quell the pain. It won’t work, you know that, but you figure it’d be worth a shot.

        “No,” you clench your jaw and avoid his panicked gaze, “I got a new roommate.” 

        “Oh.” The look on his face falls, but so does every other emotion he had been displaying. Crossing his arms, he nods in understanding while observing the boxes of personal belongings around him. “That makes sense.”

        “Yeah, so uh… I guess I don’t really have to tell you this, but you can’t really hide out in my spare room anymore,” you shift on your feet, “You know, if you wanted to.”

        “Oh,” he repeats, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. “Okay.” 

        Awkward silence falls in the hallway, and you gulp while shifting awkwardly on the final stair to your apartment level. 

        “S-so,” he stutters before clearing his throat, “who’s your roommate?” 

        “Oh, his name is-” With perfect timing, your new roomie whips open the door to your home and grabs another cardboard box, completely dismissing the existence of the brunet across from him. 

        “Ushiwaka?!”

                                ***

        Your new roommate wasn’t exactly a bundle of fun. And for some reason, whenever he was caught in the hall with Oikawa, the latter would verbally attack him like a rat on a Cheeto. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had a distant memory of your neighbor complaining about a man like Ushijima. You had both been on your couch, drinking wine and just talking about life when he suddenly grew angry at the memory of a man who “pissed him off like no other.” 

        In a way, you understood why; they were complete opposites. One was smug and social, while the other was more laid-back and reserved. Fate must have been on your side. Of course your new roommate would be the mortal enemy of the man who had broken your heart. Things were looking up, and it felt good to see Oikawa jealous, no matter how petty it sounded. You were heart-broken. Screw playing nice.

        “Hey YN?” Ushijima’s deep voice boomed from within his bedroom. The sudden holler made you jump from where you had been reclining on your couch, binging a new Netflix series. 

        “Yeah?” 

        “Can you take out the trash today? I have to get to practice.”

        “Sure, I got it.” After hopping off your sofa with a deep sigh, you plugged your nose with one hand and grabbed the trash bag in the kitchen with the other, kicking your way outside and into the hall. 

        “I’ll see you later snookums!” A feminine tone chimed from behind you. 

        “Heh, wonderful.” Oikawa. He must have a new lady friend. “Can’t wait, okay byeee!” His words were desperate and rushed as you pivoted to see him ushering a girl with her heels in her hands down the stairs. Wasn’t that… oh what’s her name… Sakura! When she disappears from his sight, he face palms and groans loudly. 

        “Still having trouble kicking ‘em to the curb?” you snort, rolling your eyes. While you throw your trash down the chute in the hall, Oikawa sighs. 

        “Umm sort of, actually. I just… I don’t know.” He sounds confused and broken. For some odd reason, you almost want to comfort him. “YN.” A hand drops on your shoulder and urges you to turn around. You do, and regrettably so. 

        His body language doesn’t show it, but deep in his eyes, there’s an emotion you desired from him weeks ago. No. “Things aren’t the same anymore. And I think I’ve figured out why.”

        “No.”

        “YN, please just let me explain.”

        “No, Tooru!” His name slips from your lips before you can stop it. “You don’t get to do that!” Your heart is racing in an instant and his nostrils flare. 

        “YN, I love you!”

        “I don’t care!” 

        A painfully long silence follows after your shout. The three words you’ve always wanted to hear from him echo in your head. He loves me. He loves me. Yes, but it didn’t matter. What he’s done… it was unforgivable. Leaving you like every other woman he’s been with. You thought you two were friends, that he wouldn’t treat you like that. But he did, and no matter how he felt now, he had to feel your pain. 

        “You… don’t care?” His lower lip trembles and his voice cracks. You quirk your mouth nervously and shake your head. 

        “Oikawa,” you mutter, “if you really loved me, why did you treat me like the rest?” 

        He stares at you for a while, frozen in shock. The hall grows ten times colder and suddenly it’s hard for you to breathe. You had to get out of there. 

        Spinning on your heel, you hurry back into your apartment, closing and locking the door just as you felt his fingertips reach and brush your elbow. 

        “YN! Wait!” 

        “YN? Are you okay?” Ushijima towers over your form, which had slumped to the ground against the wall. Tears prick your eyes, and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked you that question. He meant it too, there was a concern in his gaze you yearned for. 

        “No,” you croak out, using the door to help you stand with wobbling knees. The wood shivers beneath your hand from the pressure of Oikawa’s knocks. “No, I’m not.”

        Desperately, your neighbor's voice still pleads outside, and Ushijima nods. “Okay, I’ll talk to him.” It’s the most words he’s said to you in a day, and they pang your heart. 

        “Thank you,” you mumble, trudging away from the door and collapsing back onto your couch. 

        “Of course.” 

        The door opens behind you, and the lock clicks after it whooshes shut. You hug your knees into your chest and let the tears fall. 

        He loves me.

        “YN please!”

        He loves me.

        “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Please respect her wishes.”

        He loves me.

        “Oh, shut up you big oaf. I’m not gonna let you keep her from me! I won’t let you stop me again!”

        He loves me. 

        You breathe out a shaky sigh as the voices finally quiet. Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you fall into a dreamless sleep on the couch, stained cheeks and all. 

                                ***

        Another week passes. Ushijima has been talking you through the pain, but he’s also made you see reason. 

        “YN, he can be a pain, but I don’t think you should give up like this.” Was that really what happened? Did you give up? 

        “Doesn’t he deserve it?” 

        “Maybe, but I think he might be a person like me. I need time to sort my feelings out about things. Maybe he did too.” 

        His words shock you to the core. In all the time you’ve been thinking about your own feelings over what happened, Oikawa might’ve only started to understand his own. Okay, you got that. But then why did he sleep with more women afterwards?

        “You might be right, but I still need time.”

        “Okay.”

        In a million years, you never thought a stoic man like Ushijima would become the one to help you understand other people’s minds. He himself seemed aloof, especially when you tried to thank him. “For what?” he would say, “I’m just proposing a theory.” The man didn’t have a single touchy-feely bone in his body, and you began to respect that. It didn’t mean you would confront Oikawa yet, but at least you were getting somewhere. 

        While you stew over what Ushijima had told you, you hear a racket from in the hall. Ushijima is at practice, so you have to leave the apartment for the first time since last Thursday. 

        “Hey Shittykawa! Open up!” 

        There’s a beefy man furiously smacking Oikawa’s door that intimidates the shit out of you. However, you’re obviously not his target, so you lightly set the baseball bat down that you had grabbed for self-defense. 

        “C’mon Loserkawa! Tell me what’s going on!”

        “Umm,” you hesitantly pipe up. “Is everything okay?” While even though it involved your neighbor… you think, you still wondered if something bad was going on. Did something happen to Oikawa? Guilt struck your heart at the thought. Oh God, what if you never got to see him again?

        “Yeah, I guess,” Beefcake replies gravely and gestures a thumb at your neighbor’s door. “My friend just hasn’t left his house in a while. Sorry if I disturbed you.” 

        “It’s okay.” You figure the muscle man has it handled and plan to return to your daily activities of job-searching and wallowing in misery, but he grabs your shoulder suddenly, causing you to flinch. 

        “Wait!” He looks over his shoulder at Oikawa’s door, then back to you and your apartment. A deduction has been formed. “Are you YN?” Uh oh.

        “Umm, yeah? Who’s asking?”

        “Well son of a bitch,” he grumbles with a snarl, brandishing a key from his pocket. After sticking it in the lock and shouldering open the door, the man drags you into Oikawa’s apartment, which looks like ground zero. Pillows and clothing are strewn everywhere. There’s a table flipped on its side and empty food containers are littered on the ground here and there. In the middle of it all, curled up in a ball and covered in a blanket is a tear-stained Oikawa. His eyes resemble that of a raccoon as he peels them away from the TV he had been watching from his perch on the couch. 

        It’s a soap opera… about two roommates falling in love. Holy shit, he’s broken.

        “Goddamn, Shittykawa, it smells like someone died in here!” The man who tugged you in here waves his hand to disperse the aromatic funk, only to waft it into your face. You hold back a gag.

        “Something did, Iwa.” He makes eye contact with you for a split second before glancing away. “My happiness.” 

        You can hear your heart break at the jab, but “Iwa” only scoffs. 

        “You big sissy,” he folds his arms and raises an unimpressed brow. “Just talk to her and fucking get over it. We’ve needed you at practice for a week now.” Iwa places a hand on your back and shoves you forward through the mess. It’s not a hard push, but it’s enough for you to get the idea. 

        “Call me when you’re done so I can let the team know you’re okay.” Beefcake begins to exit but halts himself with a hand on the door. “Don’t go dark like that ever again, okay Shittykawa? People worry about you, not just your love life. Let us know what’s going on,” he mumbles over his shoulder before disappearing into the hall. 

        When you turn back around, Oikawa is sniffling and wiping his nose while avoiding your gaze. 

        “So…” you trail off awkwardly, standing in the middle of his apartment like a clean lighthouse amongst a beach of crap. 

        “YN, I’m sorry.” Oikawa takes the initiative, but still refuses to look at you. “God, I’m so sorry for what I did. I knew it was a bad idea from the moment I left your bed.” His voice is absolutely ruined. It sounds like every word scrapes past his throat and rubs it raw. He sounds… broken.

        You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you struggle to breathe at a normal volume. 

        “I just,” he pauses to hide his face in his hands. “I just didn’t know what else to do. With you, yeah it felt different. God, of course it did. It felt amazing. But leaving after was the only thing I knew how to do, no matter what I felt.” 

        His words raise the hair on your arms, and you slowly walk around the random objects, taking your sweet time before you slump down onto the couch beside him.

        “Okay,” you breathe out shakily, eyes also locking on the television. “I get that.” As you chew on the inside of your cheek, you can’t help your gaze straying to his hand. It’s twitching closer and closer to you and you grasp it slowly, interlocking your fingers like long before. His are cold, and in your peripheral vision you can see him smiling at you while you try to warm it up with both hands. 

        “But look,” you pull your legs up onto the couch and swivel to face him, grabbing his other hand and rubbing it in the process, “I’m gonna need a little time to trust you.”

        “That’s okay!” He nods his head frantically and turns to face you as well, copying your position. “I can give you time!” 

        Your lips twitch at his excitement and you shyly glance down at your hands, but your eyes catch on something. The sweatshirt you got him for Christmas. He’s wearing it. Your breath hitches at the sight and Oikawa grows confused, following your gaze down to his clothing choice as well. 

        “Oh. Right.” He forces on a smug smirk. “It’s not that bad now that I’ve tried it on- oof.” You don’t hesitate to yank him into a hug across the couch. To be honest, you were surprised he had kept it. You had expected him to toss it just like you had done to his coupon. Although, to be fair, your gift had already been utilized. 

        With a sigh, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and drag a hand up into his hair, combing through the tangled strands. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around your back, then seems to gain a little courage as he suddenly squeezes you ten times harder than your ribs can handle. You don’t mind though.

        “I’m sorry for what I said, too,” you whisper against his neck, pressing a kiss against his skin simply because of the convenience. “I love you.” 

        Oikawa freezes in your hold and digs his fingers into your back. “... I love you too.” You sigh happily into his collarbone, pecking his skin more and more as his breathing grows labored. 

        “YN.” He pulls away just enough that there is a minimal amount of space between your noses. His eyes bore into your own with utter seriousness as he rubs his hands up and down your back calmingly. “I need you to know that after that night, I haven’t been with anyone since.” 

        Abruptly, you pull away and snap your brows together. “Really?”

        “Yes.”

        “What about Sakura?” 

        “Who?” You roll your eyes. 

        “Sakura! The girl you pushed out of your apartment?” His eyes widen in realization and he leans back slightly. 

        “Oh crap, you’re right. She was a nutjob!” You scoff.

        “So you did have sex with her.” 

        “No,” he shakes his head and stares deeply into your eyes so you knew he meant it. “I didn’t. She got ahold of me weeks after I stupidly gave her my number in the first place and I had to kick her out of my house after she barged in.” 

        “Oh really, snookums?” You sneer at him and he only chuckles. 

        “Yeah, buttnugget,” he smirks and bounces his forehead against yours lightly. “I mean it. She was an absolute whacknut, and I blocked her right after she left.” 

        “She was carrying her shoes.”

        “You think I’m gonna let her track mud into my apartment?” You glance around with a disbelieving look and nod your head. 

        “Uh yeah.” Oikawa scoffs and gestures around the living room. 

        “Ok, this,” he points his fingers in emphasis, “was all your doing, sweetheart. Congratulations, you're the second person in the world to break me.” 

        “Second? Aw man, who beat me?” You snicker as he smacks your thigh, offended. Then his face darkens and your smirk falters at the sight. 

        “Is something going on between you and Ushiwaka?” The smirk regains its rightful place and you tug on Oikawa’s cheek teasingly. 

        “Aww, Tooru, are you jealous?” He bats your hand away and pouts at you. 

        “Of course! That emotionless bastard told me to stay away from you. Also, everybody knows roommates always fall for each other!” Your face scrunches up at the thought.

        “Okay, who told you that?” He huffs and points at the TV.

        “Sofia and George fell in love after like two weeks of knowing each other! I mean, yeah, he did put her mother in a coma, but that bitch deserved it!” Your eyes grow to the size of saucers at his theory and you don’t hesitate to click the television off before grabbing his hand and tugging him out of the apartment faster than he can say “telenovela.”

        “What are you doing?”

        “Bringing you back out into the real world, where stepmoms don’t poison their daughter-in-laws over a lost diamond.”  

        “They don’t?!”

                                ***

        The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and once again, thankfully, Oikawa is right by your- oh shit, he’s gone! 

        “Tooru?!” you call out in a panic, feeling around the empty mattress for any sign of where he may have gone. “Tooru?! You son of a bitch, I swear if you left again, I will kick your ass!”

        “YN?” Oikawa peeks his head inside your bedroom, throwing you a confused look. “What are you yelling about?” Oops.

        “I thought your bitch-ass left again.” Your husband rolls his eyes at you.

        “Seriously, YN? It’s been five years, give it a rest will you?” You only stick out your tongue and roll out of bed before waddling over to him. 

        “Never.” You smile sweetly and kiss his cheek while he rubs circles on your stomach. With a shake of his head, he lazily returns your grin and lands a large smooch on your forehead before directing you into the kitchen. 

        “I was making you breakfast by the way.” He sets the plate down in front of you, and it’s a pleasant surprise to notice he’s shirtless and only wearing a “kiss the chef” apron over his glorious six pack. “Pancakes and hot sauce, just like your nasty, pregnancy-craving ass requested.”

        “Mmm, delicious.” You rub your pregnant belly and lick your lips hungrily. “Just like baby Ushiwaka wanted.”

        “I told you that joke isn't funny, YN!”

Confessions: Oikawa

(This is connected to another drabble I made in my series 'Unreq Love' so here is context if you'd like the full experience: Oikawa & Bonus)

--

The gym is quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that comes from peace, but the kind that settles like dust in the corners—heavy, still, waiting. The lights are off, but the late afternoon sun filters through the high windows, painting the floor in long strokes of gold. The volleyball net hangs limply between its poles, no longer taut with purpose. There are scuff marks everywhere, like memories burned into the wood—ghosts of spikes, dives, the relentless rhythm of ambition. The echoes of laughter, shouting, the rhythmic squeak of sneakers still seem to hum beneath the silence, like the gym itself refuses to forget.

You spot him immediately.

Oikawa stands near the back wall, his figure backlit by sunlight, facing the net with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His shoulders are drawn tight, his posture still and unreadable. He doesn’t move when you step in, but he knows it’s you. No one walks into a gym like you do—especially not after hours. Especially not him.

You take your time crossing the floor. Your sneakers squeak a little, but he doesn’t flinch. The air smells like dust and floor polish, and something sharper underneath—like endings. Like goodbye.

“I figured I’d find you here,” you say, coming to a stop beside him.

He huffs, a soft, humorless sound. “You always do.”

“Well,” you shrug, “someone’s gotta make sure you’re not brooding yourself into an existential crisis.”

Finally, he glances at you. There’s a tiredness in his eyes, something far quieter than the version of him everyone else sees. You know it well. You’ve seen it before, behind locker room doors, in the quiet of bus rides home, in the way his voice would sometimes crack when no one was supposed to hear. He looks like someone who's been chasing a shadow for too long and just realized it was always out of reach.

“I thought maybe if I stayed long enough, it’d feel different,” he murmurs, gaze shifting back to the net. “But it still hurts.”

“Of course it hurts,” you reply, arms crossing over your chest. “You gave everything to this place. You bled for it. You obsessed over every drill, every stat sheet, every match. Losing was never going to be painless.”

He chuckles, and it’s low and bitter. “We didn’t even make it to nationals. What was the point of all of it?”

You frown, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Tooru, you seriously need to get your head out of your ass.”

That earns you a sidelong glance, the barest glimmer of amusement.

You soften. “You weren’t just chasing wins. You built something here. A team that trusted you. A legacy. People are going to remember you—not because of a scoreboard, but because you made them better. You made them believe. You pushed them to be more.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but his jaw tics. He always does that when he’s trying not to feel something. The weight of three years rests on his shoulders like armor that no longer serves him.

“And what about you?” he asks suddenly, turning to face you more fully. “You stuck by me through everything. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

You scoff, leaning back on your heels. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Tooru.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. You think I followed you around like a lost puppy for three years because I enjoyed your tantrums and diva moments?”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Maybe a little?”

“God, you’re insufferable.” You shake your head, but your voice loses its edge. “I stayed because you were worth it. Because you’re more than volleyball. You always have been. Even when you were too busy being dramatic to see it.”

The silence that falls between you is thick with years of shared glances, missed chances, and words left unspoken. The light shifts across the floor, turning everything gold like the last flicker of a day that tried its best.

You don’t mean to say it. Not like this. Not when he’s already unraveling.

You glance at him again, then down at your hands. Your voice comes out low, more to yourself than to him. “God, I can’t avoid this, can I?”

But it’s been sitting in your chest for too long, and something about the way the light hits his face—the rawness there, the quiet ache—makes it impossible to keep in.

“I love you.”

His head snaps toward you, eyes wide. “...What?”

You inhale slowly, like that’ll steady the thundering in your chest. “I said I love you. I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. Since you made that dumb joke during orientation and somehow managed to trip over your own feet.”

Your voice wavers slightly, but you push through. “I thought it was just a crush. Something stupid. But it never went away. Through every win, every loss, every time you walked into a room and lit it up like you didn’t even know—through all of it, I kept falling. I knew every version of you—the charming captain, the insecure overthinker, the friend who stayed behind after practice to help pick up stray balls—and I still fell.”

You swallow hard, heart aching in your chest. “And I wasn’t going to tell you. I didn’t think I had the right to. I thought I’d be a distraction, or worse—just another person you’d feel responsible for. But standing here with you, watching you look at that net like it still owes you something... I couldn’t walk away without telling you. Because it’s not just about volleyball. Not for me. Not when it comes to you.”

You take a step back, the burn of embarrassment creeping up your neck, your voice quieter now. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed to get it out of my system.”

You turn, ready to bolt before you make a bigger fool of yourself—but before your foot even hits the line, his hand wraps around your wrist.

You freeze.

His grip isn’t desperate, but it’s firm—anchoring. When you look back, he’s already there—closer than you thought, close enough that you can see the flicker of emotion dancing in his eyes. His breath is uneven. So is yours.

His gaze lingers on your face, moving from your eyes to your mouth, then back again, as if trying to piece together something he should’ve realized long ago. You see it hit him all at once—the memories, the missed moments, the way you’ve always been right there. His shoulders loosen like something inside him’s finally cracking open.

His hand moves slowly to your face, tentative but gentle, and his thumb brushes against your cheek like it’s something fragile he’s afraid to break. His fingers tremble just slightly, and the warmth of his palm grounds you in place.

“How did I never see you?” he breathes, and it’s not a question meant for you. It’s a confession all on its own, shaped by regret and wonder.

Then he kisses you.

Soft at first, hesitant—like he’s asking permission.

Then again—deeper, fuller, with the kind of reverence that comes from finally seeing someone who’s been standing in the light all along. His hand curves behind your neck, the other still holding your wrist like he's afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

And for once, Oikawa doesn’t say a single word.

He just pulls you closer, holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, and lets the silence speak for itself.

In that quiet, there is no loss. No disappointment. No game that slipped through trembling fingers.

There’s just you.

And it’s enough.

Rivalry: Oikawa

Oikawa Tooru was used to attention.

From the moment he stepped onto the court, eyes followed. Girls sighed when he passed by in the hallways, classmates lit up when he so much as looked in their direction. He had charm, he had skill, and he had a smile that could make anyone—anyone—melt.

Except for the manager.

And it drove him insane.

When she became Seijoh’s team manager, Oikawa expected the usual routine. A few flustered glances, maybe a nervous stammer or two when he spoke to her. Instead? She barely gave him the time of day. Her eyes never lingered, her voice stayed firm, and when he flashed one of his award-winning smiles, she only responded with a flat, unimpressed stare.

At first, it was amusing. A fun little challenge. But as weeks passed, that amusement turned to frustration. Why wasn’t she falling for him like everyone else? Why did it feel like the harder he tried, the more indifferent she became? It was unnatural—Oikawa had spent years perfecting the art of attention, the delicate balance of charm and arrogance that made people gravitate toward him. And yet, she stood there, unmoved, like he was just another player on the team.

It gnawed at him. It wasn’t just that she ignored his flirtation—it was that she treated him exactly the same as she treated everyone else. It made him feel… ordinary.

Oikawa made it a point to test her patience.

“Manager-chan, be honest,” Oikawa mused lazily, twirling a volleyball between his fingers, his tone laced with smug amusement. "Do you ever get tired of pretending you’re immune to my charm?"

She didn’t even look up from her clipboard, her fingers flying across the page as she made notes. "Do you ever get tired of being a desperate attention-seeker?"

Iwaizumi choked on his water, while Hanamaki and Matsukawa outright cackled, exchanging wide-eyed looks of glee. Even Kyōtani, who usually ignored their antics, raised an eyebrow, glancing up from his shoe-lacing. Oikawa, however, was left standing there, momentarily stunned by the sheer disrespect.

“That was uncalled for,” he gasped, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded.

She finally spared him a glance, her gaze flat and unimpressed. "So is your existence, and yet, here we are."

The team erupted. Hanamaki practically slid to the floor from laughing too hard, Matsukawa was bent over the bench wheezing, and even Iwaizumi wiped a hand over his face, shaking his head. "She’s got a point, though."

Oikawa scowled, gripping the volleyball just a little too tight. "Unbelievable. I slave away on the court, leading this team, and this is the gratitude I get? A cruel, heartless manager who refuses to appreciate my many, many talents."

"Oh, I appreciate your talents," she responded coolly, flipping to another page in her notebook. "Just not the ones you want me to."

His mouth opened, then closed, irritation flickering behind his eyes. She had played him—so effortlessly, so ruthlessly, and in front of the whole team, no less. He hated how easily she dismissed him, like he was some annoying background noise. It wasn’t just about her brushing off his flirting anymore—he wanted to rattle her, to break through that ridiculous indifference she seemed to have toward him.

And for the first time in a long while, Oikawa didn’t know how to win.

And that was how it started.

Oikawa made it his personal mission to get a reaction out of her. He turned up the charm, exaggerating his requests, leaving his jersey in the most inconvenient places just to force her to interact with him. And through it all, she remained perfectly unbothered.

Which only made things worse.

During practice, Oikawa's patience had started to fray. What once had been playful teasing was now laced with something sharper, something almost mean. He leaned in too close, his voice lower, more clipped. "You work so hard, manager-chan. Doesn’t it ever get exhausting pretending I don’t bother you?"

She barely spared him a glance. "Not nearly as exhausting as listening to you grasp at straws for my attention."

His fingers twitched at his sides, irritation flaring. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be the one getting under her skin—not the other way around.. Whenever she’d pass by with the clipboard, he’d throw an arm over her shoulder, lean in just a little too close, and sigh dramatically. "You work so hard, manager-chan. Doesn’t it ever get tiring, pretending you don’t like me?"

"Not as tiring as listening to you talk," she quipped back, shaking him off effortlessly.

That made the rest of the team howl with laughter, much to Oikawa’s dismay.

But the more she dismissed him, the more he found himself noticing her.

How she always had a spare towel ready for anyone who needed it, how her lips twitched when she held back a smile, how she somehow always knew exactly where to be, exactly what needed to be done. The way she’d mutter under her breath when the gym got too chaotic, how she pushed her sleeves up to her elbows when she was in full focus mode.

Even worse, he noticed that she laughed at other people’s jokes. Not his.

It was infuriating.

The way she treated him—like he was just another player, no more important than anyone else—made something coil tight in his chest. It was wrong. He should matter.

As the season went on, their dynamic became something of a spectacle. Matsukawa and Hanamaki kept a running tally on how many times Oikawa failed to get a reaction from her. Even Kyōtani, normally disinterested in team antics, had muttered once, "Why does he even care?"

Practice was no different.

One day, he strolled in late, expecting to slide by unnoticed. Instead, the manager barely glanced up from her clipboard before sighing dramatically.

"And the king has graced us with his presence," she drawled, flipping a page without looking up. "Should we all kneel? Maybe throw some rose petals while we're at it?"

Oikawa's expression twitched. His fingers flexed around the strap of his bag before he forced a scoff. "You wound me, manager-chan. I’d expect at least a little appreciation for my presence."

She finally looked at him, unimpressed. "I’d appreciate it more if you actually showed up on time."

The snickers from the team were immediate. Matsukawa nudged Hanamaki, both grinning like they had front-row seats to the best show in town. Iwaizumi just shook his head, barely hiding his smirk.

Oikawa exhaled through his nose, jaw clenching slightly before he tilted his head, voice dropping just a fraction. "Careful, manager-chan. One of these days, someone’s going to mistake that attitude of yours for something else."

She arched a brow. "Oh? And what’s that?"

"Repressed admiration." His smirk was sharp, eyes locked on hers like he was waiting—daring her to react.

She let a slow smirk creep onto her face. "That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing about you."

Oikawa stiffened for a half-second. It was barely noticeable, but she caught it. And it infuriated him.

Hanamaki snorted. Matsukawa muttered a quiet "brutal" under his breath, and Iwaizumi, ever the opportunist, smirked as he crossed his arms. "Yeah, Oikawa. You expecting a parade or something?"

Oikawa rolled his eyes, adjusting the strap of his bag. "I was—"

"Stretching starts now," she cut him off smoothly, pointing at the mats without even sparing him a second look. "If Iwaizumi yells at you for skipping, I’m certainly not covering for you."

Iwaizumi clapped a hand on Oikawa’s back, grinning. "Yeah, Shittykawa, stretching starts now."

Oikawa groaned, tossing his head back dramatically. "You just like bossing me around."

"Someone has to." She finally looked at him, gaze neutral, unimpressed. Then, before he could respond, she turned and walked off, already shifting her attention to something else, like he wasn’t even worth her time.

He scowled. Why did it feel like he lost that exchange?

The next few weeks were much of the same. The team noticed, amused by the ongoing battle. They weren’t even subtle about it anymore.

"Oikawa, just accept defeat," Matsukawa teased one afternoon, leaning against the gym wall as he watched her deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, clipboard in hand, discussing strategy. She was nodding at something Iwaizumi said, her brow furrowed in concentration, flipping a page in her notes. Oikawa barely heard the words being exchanged, too focused on the way she looked—completely absorbed in the discussion, giving Iwaizumi the full weight of her attention. It was so effortless for her, this back-and-forth, the way she actually cared about his vice-captain’s input, about the game.

His grip on the volleyball tightened. Why did it feel like she never talked to him like that? "She’s immune. It’s kind of inspiring."

Oikawa scoffed, crossing his arms. "I will win. Just wait."

But the truth was, it wasn’t about winning anymore. It wasn’t about charming her or getting a reaction—Oikawa realized, somewhere between watching her scribble notes on the clipboard and catching glimpses of her tying her hair back, that he wanted her attention. He wanted her to look at him the way she looked at the others, wanted to hear her laugh because of him.

And that was unacceptable.

The breaking point finally came after a game.

The team had secured another victory, but the entire time, Oikawa’s mind wasn’t on the match. It wasn’t on his perfectly placed serves, on the points he racked up, or even on the cheers from the crowd.

It was on her.

She had celebrated, high-fiving Kyōtani, clapping Iwaizumi on the back, beaming as she praised the team for their effort. The smile she wore was bright, uninhibited, the kind of happiness he had never seen from her before. She was laughing—actually laughing—carefree and glowing as if this win meant the world to her.

And she hadn’t looked at him once.

He hated it.

Hated how effortless it was for her to shower attention on everyone else, how easily she smiled at them, joked with them, treated them as if they were worth her time. But him? She barely acknowledged his existence, acting as if he was nothing more than a passing nuisance.

His grip on his jersey tightened. Something inside him burned, sharp and unsettled, curling hot in his chest like an ember waiting to catch fire. It wasn’t fair. He had worked harder than anyone for this win, pushed himself beyond exhaustion to make sure they came out on top. And yet, when she smiled, when she laughed—it wasn’t because of him.

And that was the moment Oikawa snapped.

So when he saw her alone in the hallway after the match, clipboard in hand, he didn’t think.

"Why do you act like that?" His voice was tight, laced with frustration that he couldn't contain anymore.

She glanced up, brow raised. "Act like what?"

Oikawa stepped closer, his jaw clenching, heat simmering beneath his skin. "Like I’m nothing. Like I don’t exist. You joke with them, you celebrate with them, but with me? It’s like I could disappear and you wouldn’t even notice."

Her smirk was slow, taunting. "Oh, is that what this is about? You need me to fawn over you like everyone else? Poor Oikawa. Is it finally sinking in that I don’t care about stroking your over-inflated ego?"

His eyes darkened. "That’s not—"

She cut him off, stepping forward so the space between them all but disappeared. "You think I didn't know about you before I joined the team? You think I didn't know you'd try with me? I will not swoon and kiss your feet, Tooru."

Oikawa opened his mouth, but the words tangled. He wanted to refute it, to tell her it wasn’t about that, but the way she was looking at him—bold, unshaken, challenging—knocked the thoughts from his head.

He groaned in frustration, fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave up fighting it. Before she could say another word, his hands shot up, gripping her waist as he yanked her toward him, lips crashing into hers.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was messy, desperate, filled with months—years—of unresolved tension. His fingers curled against her hips, pulling her closer, his kiss carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say. It was a demand, a declaration, a fight in its own right.

And the worst part? She kissed him back.

Her fingers curled into his jersey, yanking him closer as if daring him to take it further. He could feel her heartbeat, hammering against his own, and suddenly, nothing else mattered—not the game, not the team, not the rivalry that had defined them for so long.

Just him.

Just her.

When he finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Oikawa rested his forehead against hers, his hands still gripping her waist. He exhaled sharply, lips curving into something between a smirk and disbelief.

"You looked at me just now," he murmured, voice rough.

She huffed a laugh, fingers still tangled in his jersey. "Shut up," she whispered, then pulled him down and kissed him again.

It was just as desperate as before, just as fevered, but this time, there was something else—acceptance. She wasn’t pushing him away, wasn’t stopping to argue. She was right there with him, matching his intensity, giving as much as she took. It was infuriating. It was exhilarating. It was everything.

And then—

Footsteps.

A sharp intake of breath.

Both of them froze just as Iwaizumi and Matsukawa turned the corner.

Iwaizumi stopped mid-step. Matsukawa, wide-eyed, blinked once, then twice. The hallway fell into a suffocating silence.

Then, slowly, in perfect synchronization, both of them took a single step backward.

Another.

Without a word, they turned around and walked the other way, as if they had just stumbled into something forbidden.

Matsukawa exhaled as they rounded the corner. "Damn. He really did get her."

Iwaizumi nodded. "Yeah."

A beat of silence.

"I hate him," Iwaizumi muttered.

Matsukawa sighed. "Me too."

Husbandry: Oikawa

The first thing you register upon waking up is warmth. A steady, lingering heat against your back, an arm draped lazily over your waist, the rhythmic rise and fall of a chest pressed flush against you. The scent of something familiar—clean linen, faded cologne, a hint of salt from the sea breeze slipping through the open window—fills your senses. Oikawa’s grip tightens instinctively as you shift, pulling you impossibly closer, his face buried against the curve of your shoulder.

“Tooru,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

A muffled groan is his only response. His body is heavy against yours, limbs tangled in a way that makes movement difficult. You try once more to shift, but his arms only tighten around your waist.

“Nope,” he grumbles, his voice rough from sleep. “No getting up yet. It’s illegal.”

You huff, already knowing how this is going to go. Sunlight spills in through the sheer curtains, painting the walls of your shared apartment in soft golden hues. The distant sound of life beyond the bedroom—muffled chatter from the streets below, the occasional car passing by, the faint melody of a street performer’s guitar—reminds you that the world is awake, moving. And yet, Oikawa remains completely unfazed, as if time doesn’t exist beyond the warmth of your shared bed.

“I have things to do,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Lies,” he mutters against your skin. “You have exactly one obligation today, and that’s to stay right here in bed with your incredibly handsome husband.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” he hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “It’s scientifically proven that getting up too early makes you ten times more cranky.”

“More cranky?” you repeat, raising a brow. “Are you saying I’m cranky now?”

He hesitates.

“…No?”

You elbow him lightly, and he lets out a dramatic wheeze, flopping onto his back as if you’ve mortally wounded him. “Oh my god, the betrayal,” he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I let you into my home, my heart, my bed—and you stab me in the stomach.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but you’re already smiling.

“I’m wounded.”

“You’re fine.”

He peeks at you from under his arm, brown eyes still hazy with sleep but glinting with amusement. “You’re not even going to check?”

“I know you’re fine.”

He lets out another exaggerated groan before reaching for you again, pulling you back into his embrace. This time, you let yourself sink into his warmth, the sound of the city fading into the background. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your arm, absentminded, soothing. The morning breeze flutters through the curtains, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery down the street, mingling with the salt-tinged air of Barcelona’s coastline.

“You really don’t wanna stay in bed with me?” he asks after a while, voice softer now, more genuine.

You sigh, pressing your cheek against his. “I do, but I also don’t want to waste the whole day.”

Oikawa scoffs, shifting to press a kiss to your temple. “It’s not wasting if we’re spending it together.”

“You always say that when you want me to be lazy with you.”

“Because it’s true,” he argues. “C’mon, just a little longer? Please?” He tilts his head, lips brushing against your jaw as he whispers, “For me?”

You groan, knowing you’re done for. Oikawa is many things—dramatic, annoying, way too smug for his own good—but he’s also incredibly hard to say no to, especially when he’s warm and sleepy and clinging to you like this.

“Fine,” you mumble. “But only for a little longer.”

A victorious grin spreads across his face as he pulls you flush against him, tangling your legs together under the sheets. “See? I always win.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you love me.”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother denying it. Instead, you let yourself relax into his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the hum of the city outside, the quiet comfort of being wrapped up in him. The world can wait a little longer.

Maybe, just maybe, staying in bed with him isn’t the worst way to spend the day.

Unrequited Love: Oikawa (Bonus)

The team was loud, as always.

Oikawa, now freshly showered and looking somewhat like himself again, was in the middle of being teased by Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

“So, Captain, let’s talk about your tragic love life,” Matsukawa said, slinging an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders.

Hanamaki took a dramatic sip of his drink. “Yeah, we all knew she was gonna break up with you before you did. What does that say about you, huh?”

“Shut up,” Oikawa groaned, smacking Matsukawa’s arm off him, though there was no real heat behind it. You could see his mood rising with every passing moment.

“Hey, at least you still have volleyball,” Matsukawa said, raising his glass like he was making a toast.

“Right, the one true love of your life,” Hanamaki added with a smirk.

Oikawa sighed dramatically. “You guys are the worst.”

You watched from the side, letting their banter wash over you. The ache from earlier was still there, a dull weight in your chest, but at least Oikawa wasn’t sulking anymore. That was the important thing.

A presence appeared beside you, and you didn’t even have to look to know it was Hajime.

“I’m impressed,” he admitted, crossing his arms as he watched Oikawa shove Hanamaki. “I tried to get him out of bed earlier, but he wouldn’t budge.”

You smirked, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “That’s because you don’t know how to sweet-talk him, Hajime.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. If I tried sweet-talking Oikawa, I’d never hear the end of it.”

You snickered. “Yeah, he’d probably take that as an invitation to propose.”

Hajime shook his head, amused, before glancing at you, his expression shifting into something more knowing. “So,” he said casually, “are you going to make a move, or are we just going to keep going in circles?”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “Please, you should’ve seen what he told me earlier.”

Hajime raised an eyebrow.

You turned to him, pressing a hand to your chest mockingly, and sighed dramatically. “He looked me in the eye, Hajime. And do you know what he said?”

Hajime waited.

“You’re a good friend,” you deadpanned, voice dripping with bitterness.

Hajime winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.” You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “So, no, I’m not making a move. Not when he clearly doesn’t see me that way.”

Hajime was quiet for a moment before shrugging. “You never know. He’s an idiot. You might have to spell it out for him.”

You huffed, watching as Oikawa dramatically whined about something to the others. “Yeah, well… I think I’ve done enough for one night.” Then you hear a whine of your name. You look over to Oikawa's pleading face along with Matsun's and Makki's devious ones.

“You promised me they would give me a break!” Oikawa suddenly called out, his voice carrying over the chatter of the team. His eyes locked onto yours, pleading dramatically, though the glint of betrayal was exaggerated.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “C’mon, guys, give him some slack,” you called, raising your hands in surrender.

Hanamaki gasped in mock offense. “Oh, so now you’re defending him?”

“She’s going soft,” Matsukawa said, shaking his head.

“I am not going soft,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

Hajime, beside you, smirked before stepping forward. “Actually, now that I think about it… didn’t Oikawa almost cry in first-year when he lost his favorite knee pads?”

Oikawa whipped around. “Iwa-chan.”

“Oh, right!” Hanamaki’s eyes lit up. “The ones with the little stars on them?”

“You guys swore to take that to the grave!” Oikawa cried, scandalized.

“I don’t know, man,” Matsukawa said, leaning back with a grin. “Kind of sounds like a moment that deserves to be remembered.”

As the teasing escalated, Oikawa slumped in his seat, arms crossed, pouting like a child. “I hate all of you.”

You laughed at the whole exchange, and when you glanced back at Oikawa, expecting him to still be sulking, you caught something different—something small, almost imperceptible.

He was smiling.

It was barely there, just a slight tug at the corners of his lips, but it was real. And for a brief moment, as his gaze lifted, he met your eyes.

The world around you blurred, and warmth spread through your chest. You swore you felt your heart stutter, just for a second.

And then, as quickly as the moment had happened, you cursed yourself for it.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, tearing your gaze away.

Oikawa was still laughing with the others, completely unaware of the effect he had on you.

You exhaled, shaking your head, willing the butterflies away.

Hajime, still standing beside you, didn’t say anything, but when you glanced at him, he was looking at you with a knowing expression.

“Not a word,” you muttered.

He smirked. “Didn’t say anything.”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder, but he only chuckled in response.

Unrequited Love: Oikawa

You’d known Oikawa for as long as you could remember. From messy sandbox battles to after-school practices that went late into the evening, he’d always been there—your first friend, your longest friend. The three of you—Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and you—had always been a unit, bound by years of shared childhood, inside jokes, and more than a few arguments.

But right now? Right now, Oikawa was testing every ounce of your patience.

“Hajime said you’ve been holed up in here for hours,” you said as you shoved open his bedroom door without knocking. “What’s your excuse this time?”

Oikawa groaned from the depths of his bed, a mess of blankets and pillows hiding all but the top of his ruffled hair. His room was a disaster zone: clothes scattered everywhere, an abandoned volleyball rolling lazily near the desk, and the faint smell of coffee from the cup Hajime must’ve left here earlier.

“Go away,” Oikawa muttered, voice muffled by his pillow.

“No,” you said firmly, kicking the door shut behind you. “I’m not letting you sulk forever. What happened?”

He rolled onto his back, his face pale and his eyes a little red. “She broke up with me,” he muttered, his voice cracking just enough to make you wince. “She said I was too focused on volleyball. That I didn’t care enough about her.”

Your heart squeezed. You’d seen the writing on the wall. Oikawa was intense about volleyball—obsessed, really. It was one of the things you admired about him, even when it frustrated you. But it was hard to hear him like this, even harder to know that he’d never think about you the way he thought about her.

You crossed your arms, steeling yourself. “Well, she’s not wrong,” you said, your tone blunt. “You’ve got a one-track mind, Tooru. Volleyball this, volleyball that. What did you think would happen?”

His face scrunched up in annoyance, and he reached out to grab a pillow, lobbing it weakly in your direction. “Gee, thanks for the support.”

You dodged it easily, smiling despite yourself. “I’m serious, Tooru. You’ve got to figure this out, or you’re going to keep pushing people away.”

He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You sound like Iwa-chan.”

“Maybe that’s because Hajime and I are the only ones stubborn enough to stick around while you throw yourself headfirst into everything,” you shot back, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Do you even realize how much we’ve put up with over the years?”

He peeked at you from under his arm, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You guys are too stubborn to leave me.”

“Damn right we are,” you said, reaching out to flick his forehead. “But don’t push your luck.”

Silence fell between you, the tension lifting slightly. You leaned back, resting on your hands as you studied him. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and he looked younger somehow, like the kid you used to climb trees with instead of the volleyball star he was now.

“Come on,” you said eventually, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off your pants. “The team’s going out. You can’t stay in here forever.”

“I don’t feel like it,” he muttered, sitting up slowly.

“Tough.” You grabbed his wrist and tugged, ignoring his protests. “Go shower, change, and join us. I’ll wait in the living room to make sure you don’t crawl back into bed.”

He sighed, dragging his feet as he shuffled toward his dresser. “You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re so whiny,” you shot back, grinning. “Go!”

Just as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You glanced back, raising an eyebrow. He stood there, clothes in hand, his expression softer than usual.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re a good friend.”

The words hit harder than they should have, settling like a stone in your chest. But you forced a smile, pushing the ache down where it belonged.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice steady.

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it for just a moment.

Being his friend was enough, you told yourself.

It had to be.