oikawa tooru x female reader
wc: 2.4k
tw: possessive, knife play, kidnapping, drugging, very mild smut
synopsis: he'd never let you go, there was no reason to ever worry about that.
The dull sound of the TV through the stale air made it hard to breathe. Your fingers tangled through Oikawa’s soft brown hair on your lap- each heavy breath, a stark difference to his soft and even ones.
This was your new normal. Absentmindedly watching the same show at the same time, him curling on top of you and napping. You almost bitterly laugh out loud looking down at his peaceful face.
There was a time where you’d have given anything to have him where he was right now. His fingers gripped your thighs reflexively- you watched your skin plush under him softly digging into your flesh. You brushed your fingers over his before pulling it away and holding his hand.
He scowls in his sleep when losing your thigh and nudges his cheek against you instinctively. You tilt your head and bring your thumb to his soft pink lips, ghosting over it.
You sigh. There was a time.
-
Your heart was thudding loudly against your chest and your calves burned as you ran as fast as your feet could carry you.
“Tooru!”
It felt like you were chasing for air with every step you took, lungs feeling like they could give out any second. Through the skin of your teeth you finally crashed into him, punching a small groan out of his stomach.
He rubbed your arms frantically, eyes wide in concern as he looked over you. You were heaving, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling fast as you intently looked into his eyes. An exhausted smile takes over your face before you hug him tightly, pressing your body flush against his.
“(Y/n)?” He hugged you back but his confusion was palpable through his hesitant hands rubbing your back. “You okay? There was no need to run all this way, I would’ve met you up front-”
“Iwa told me you were wanting to go abroad.”
You cut him off, impossibly tightening your arms around him. You nails press into his shirt, trembling, from a mix of adrenaline and nerves.
“I meant to tell you,”
You shake your head, burying your head into his chest. “I’m not letting you go. You’re not leaving. No.”
He lets out a deep breath. He pulls you against him, lightly stroking the back of your head as he feels his shirt dampen where your eyes are.
“C’mon, babe. I’m all sweaty,” He laughs, attempting and failing to pull you off of him. “Let’s talk after I take a shower, hm?”
You insistently shake your head no, nosed pressed against him- you took the deepest breath you’ve ever taken in your life, needing to remember his scent, the smell of his sweat on his skin, if you weren’t ever going to see him a-
No.
He wasn’t leaving.
He presses a long kiss on the top of your head, gently tightening and relaxing his grip on your shoulders. “I meant to tell you,” He mumbles against your hair, another kiss on your temple. “I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t even going to ask me to go with you? Just disappear without a word? Leave without giving me time to sit with it?”
He bites his lip at your accusatory questions, eyes averting from yours to stare at the ground. “Of course not-”
“Then why am I finding out through Iwa and not you?”
He rolls his eyes silently curses his friend in his head for telling you before him.
“Where are you even going? When is your flight?”
The lump in your throat was growing painful with each syllable out of your mouth, and you couldn’t blink the tears away fast enough. A small, hoarse whisper manages past your lips, scared to even hear his answer.
“You were just going to leave me?”
He pushes you away, running a hand through his hair as he sighed loudly again. “Baby, I was going to tell you. I swear.”
Your face wrinkled when he wrenched you off of him. You shove him, the force of it making him stumble back in surprise.
“Asshole. Tell me when? You’re leaving in a week.”
You didn’t even try to hide the venom in your words as the harsh insult tumbled out of your mouth before you were even aware of what you were saying.
He kept his mouth shut as he stared back down. The look in his eyes made you want to rip your skin off. There was an extended moment of silence between you two, only the sounds of your rough breath and cicada crying filling it.
Your eye contact breaks only when a voice calls out for Oikawa, his head turning toward the sound. He looks back at you with a guilty face, briefly looking down before meeting your eyes again.
“I-,” He gestures toward the gym. “I’ll talk to you later. I promise.” He flashes his phone at you before jogging back, leaving you alone and fuming on the street. You flare your nose as you watch him leave, tears numbly falling down your cheeks.
-
The brunet tumbles around and groggily opens his eyes, his squinting ones meeting yours with a sleepy smile. “G’morning,” a deep rumble vibrating through his throat as he pressed his lips against your thigh.
“Good morning,” Your lips are pursed as he nips at your skin, hands sliding down from around your waist to the seat of the sofa. He pushes himself up with a groan, stretching before pressing another kiss on your cheek.
“You eat?” He walks over to the kitchen to pour a glass of water and chugged it down, eyes back on you like a cat eyeing a mouse.
You swallow the thick lump of saliva that gathered in your mouth. “Can we go out?” You ask with an innocence in your voice, ignoring the way your throat constricted when he just stared back you.
A small, empty smirk curls in the corner of his lip. “Again? But we went out last week,” He walks toward you and cups your cheek, thumb rubbing under your eyes. “Where do you want to go?”
Before, it’d take everything in you not to slap his hand away, spit in his face and run. You look up at him, his eyes basically dripping with honey as he pecks the tip of your nose.
“I’ll be good,” You want to scratch your arms raw at how desperate it came out.
His hand trails down to rest at the curve of your neck, picking at the edge of the bandage around it. “I know,” he mumbles, pressing his thumb into it as you bite your cheeks not to wince from the sting. “I asked where you wanted to go.”
You hadn’t thought this far. Your mind scrambles to think of a place before he changed his mind, but you shake when you realize that you didn't know.
You haven't been out enough to remember the names of anything, let alone the fact that you were in a foreign country.
He slowly trails down your arm to hold your hand, playfully humming in your quiet. “Maybe we can go next time,” You shake your head. “Just until this heals, hm?” He rubs the bandage on your neck, kissing your forehead.
-
You examine your fingertips, gauzed and pale as you sit across Oikawa at the dining table. He pays no mind, taking steady bites as you pick at the food. His foot brushes against your ankle, a comfortable silence in the air even at the sound of your fork scraping your plate.
He finally eyes you and stands, and wordlessly takes your plate to place it in the sink. He grabs your wrist and drags you behind him, leaving his own half-eaten food on the table.
He gently pulls you on top of the bed, letting a finger trail from your collarbone down to your belly button.
“If you weren’t hungry just tell me baby,” He coos, playing with the hem of your shirt. He looks up at you when your breath hitches, moving two fingers under the fabric and sliding his nails up your stomach. “You know I hate wasting food.”
You gulp. You never got used to the way his eyes grew so cold when he looked up at you, the way it just as quickly turned soft again- it sent a prick of pain every time you saw his smile, resembling the cute boy you no longer knew.
His exhales when splaying his fingertips on your chest, a warm smile emanating off his face as he pulls your shirt up to your chin. He gazes down lovingly, rubbing the rough scars and scratches running across your sternum.
“It’s healing well,” He sings, rubbing his thumb with a strong yet gentle press against your most recent cut. He roughly pulls down your shorts and wiggles it off your ankles, both hands trailing down to slowly spread your thighs. His smile widens. “Here too,”
He drags you off the bed and forces you on your feet in front of the mirror. He sighs against the top of your head at the sight of you, the sight of his hands on your waist and how he towered over you.
You looked ghastly. Pale, and red in the wrong places. Your chest was littered with large and tiny cuts, wounds both old and new, brown scars and scabbed over fresh ones.
Your breasts were all purple and marked red from his kisses.
Your inner thighs, like your chest were similarly cut up, albeit less red and more so just scarred because he’d been more interested in your neck as of late.
“So pretty,” He whispered in your ear, tongue flicking out to lick the shell of your ear. “And all mine.” Both hands travelled up to grope your breasts, giving a good squeeze before letting go of one to peel off the bandage on your neck.
You blinked your eyes and hissed in pain, him shushing you with gentle kisses on your cheek as he dropped it on the floor. He leaned down to blow coolly on your neck before going in for an open mouthed kiss.
He gently bit down before pulling away, laying you back onto the bed. He leaned over you to reach for the small knife lazily hidden away in the nightstand drawer, his heady scent making your head feel heavy.
His grin stayed the whole time, looking down at your body reverently under him as he traced his index finger down your collarbone to the perk of your nipples. “I love you.”
He kisses the pebbled peak before pressing the tip of the knife under your other breast, looking up at your indifferent expression. His eyes flick back down. “Mine.”
You whimper when you feel the cool metal sink into your skin.
-
You fiddle with your thumbs, thumping your feet nervously on the hardwood floor.
You almost jump when he comes out of the kitchen, tray in his hands as he sat across from you. He passes the hot cup of tea toward you, taking a sip of his own before clearing his throat.
“I’m moving to Argentina.”
You exhale as you meet his calm eyes. You almost down the whole cup before gathering the courage to speak. “When did you decide?”
“I’ve thought about it for a few years, but decided for sure a few months ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me then why?”
He stares back at your narrowed eyes and ignores your question. “I want you to come with me.”
Your face crinkled in confusion and you just blinked at him, taking a second to process what he was telling you. “What?”
“I want you to come with me.” He repeats, brows furrowed and looking urgently into your eyes.
A scoff harsher than you intended tore out your throat. “Why are you asking me this now? Why didn’t you ask or think to even tell me when you were thinking about moving?” A sarcastic half-smile of disbelief curved your lips.
“I thought you would say no.” He answers honestly, shifting uncomfortably on his knees.
Your eyes falter when seeing him so uneasy, opening and closing your mouth in hesitation. “Obviously I would’ve needed time, but I love you, Tooru. I want to be with you. I wouldn’t have just shut the idea down.”
His brows raise in surprise, eyes slightly widening at your words.
“I’m not saying I would say yes, I still have friends and a life here but we could’ve worked something out-”
He instantly cradled your face against his chest, shutting you up before you could continue. “Really..?” You could barely hear him.
A sigh deflates your chest and you hug him back. “I love you. Is that even a question?”
He pulls away just enough to look down at your face, searching for the slightest signs of doubt feathering your face. He kissed you, deepening it before breaking away, and held you close.
“I’m sorry,”
You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, gently kissing it before looking up at him.
“I didn’t think you’d agree, I just thought you’d-”
“I haven’t agreed to moving with you, but I don’t want to break up with you. We can figure something out, maybe I could move later down the road,” A stuttering haze started to fog your head, stopping the words from passing your lips.
Your chest started to feel light.
Oikawa shushed you and pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead watching your eyes flutter close. He smiled against your head.
“I love you too.”
-
You laid naked on his bed as he pressed a damp towel on you, stained a dirty red from soaking up the new cut on your body. Oikawa couldn’t help but kiss it again, the flat of his tongue licking up the sting.
He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, a small smile on his lips as he showed it to you.
You take a deep breath at it. He’d carved his name on your rib, just under the curve of your breast, etched in a bright red. He let out a half-laugh half-moan and rolled his hips on your thigh, letting you feel the arousal that resulted directly from your newest mark.
“My pretty girl,” He cooed, rubbing his thumb over the cut. “Thank you for loving me.” He pecked your lips, looking up at you with a mix of condescension and adoration.
oikawa tooru x female reader
tw: yandere, toxic/abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, blood, minor gore
synopsis : it’s your fault, really. you shouldn’t have made him jealous
You breathe in deeply. The babyish scent of him, sweat, and blood lingered on the tattered white and mint jersey, and you clutched it violently toward your chest. No. It’s not real. It’s not true.
He can’t have.
When you feel a finger under your chin, gentle yet forceful in turning your gaze up to meet the one crouching in front of you, you bite your tongue.
He lets the tears silently fall down your cheeks, staring at your fear-stricken face with an unreadable expression. He presses a soft kiss on your quivering lips.
“You love me that much?” A small smile tugs at the corner of his lip and eyes the way your fists wrinkled his jersey. He slowly wiped away a tear with the rough pad of his thumb.
You flinch at the tender gesture, trembling away from him. “What have you done?”
A cold voice bites back.
“I did it for you.”
-
“(Y/n)!” Strong arms wrapped around your torso, pulling your back into the embrace of his hard, lean chest. It was almost hard to breathe with how tightly he was squeezing you, but you laughed anyway and put your hands over his. “I thought you abandoned me.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, pressing light kisses all over where your neck and shoulder met.
You sighed in content. He loved you. Your precious boy, Oikawa, loved you.
You both stumble into the wall, his back thudding softly as he continued to press fervent kisses on the top of your head, hands travelling down your body. “You know I’d never,” you chirp in a hushed voice, finally turning around in his arms to face him.
He had a dazed smile that day. The look in his eyes elsewhere, like he was in a different world. Maybe, if only you had cared to mention it that day, things would’ve been different.
You let him wrap his hands around your waist and pull you toward him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours and breathing in your every exhale, like he wanted to swallow you down into his lungs.
You smile and lean up to kiss him, a slow, gentle kiss. He leaned closer, fingers tangling in your hair as he closed the gap. He tilted your head to get a better angle as he kissed back fervently, pouring every ounce of love, desperation, and need. It felt so perfect. So right.
It also felt… bittersweet?
But you ignored it and trailed your hands under his shirt, delicately tracing up his toned abs with your fingertips. You stopped when you felt the tears on your cheeks. He was shaking, crying into you as he held the connection between your lips, kisses growing sloppier.
Something wasn’t right. He’s an emotional guy, this was not the first time he’s cried in front of you before, but something was different. You put your hands on his arms to force yourself slightly away and properly look at him, but he buries his face into your shoulder before you could.
“Tooru?” Your voice came out shakier than you wanted it. You thread your hands in his hair, shushing and cradling him to calm his sobs, but he just crushes you against him. You don’t say anything. Just keep stroking his hair, rubbing his back. He clearly didn’t want to talk about whatever it was that had him so conflicted.
You should’ve forced it out of him.
-
You wanted to scream, to kick and thrash around, to ask why but the words died in your throat every time you opened your mouth. Oikawa only looked at you with tender eyes, eyes dripping with honey despite your panicked state.
“I did it for you.”
Your heart slammed against your chest when he repeated with the same flat tone. How in the world was this for you? You didn’t dare break eye contact with him even as Asakawa twitched and moaned just a few feet away from you.
The thick smell of blood was overbearing in the small space between you, and you could barely breathe without feeling nauseous.
“You’re gonna have to use your words, baby,” He narrows his eyes when you back away from his touch, and grips your chin between his index finger and thumb.
You whimper at his bruising grip, lips parting slightly from the force. You blinked at him, mustering up with all the mental strength you had, to whisper out, “Why?”
He smiled and before you could register it a hot kiss pressed against your lips. “You’re mine, I needed you to understand,” He pulls you into his taut, bare chest, slicked with a sheen of sweat and light smears of blood. He strokes the back of your head tenderly and fingers through the strands of your hair.
When Asakawa moves a hand just slightly toward you two, a quick slicing sound echoed in the air followed immediately by screams of agony, and you gasp at the sight of a knife impaling the back of his hand.
The speed at which the blood gushed out of him made you feel dizzy, and you looked away, unable to hold back a gag against the curve of Oikawa’s shoulder.
Oikawa turned his head slightly to look at him, eyes devoid of the softness it was filled with moments before when looking at you.
“I should try cutting these off one by one this time, huh?” He sneered, tracing down Asakawa’s shaking fingers. “Don’t think he needs these anymore, hm?” He pressed a hard kiss on your temple, wiping away the hair stuck on your forehead with his free hand. “You’re a big girl, you can write your own notes, right?”
You wept against his shoulder.
-
“Better me dead in your arms than alive in another’s.”
It was something that had always unsettled you when he said it. You loved him, and didn’t have even the slightest desire to leave him. But Tooru was always an insecure and jealous guy. You didn’t realize how much worse it got when you two started dating, how the guys that stared at you a little too long, girls that gave you side glances from ‘stealing’ him from them would always end up with broken fingers, or refused to meet your eyes the next day.
Oikawa was deceptively good at acting like everything was normal.
“They’re just jealous, babe, can you blame them? We look perfect together.”
“Ah, Matsubara, from baseball? Played too rough, from what I hear.”
“I just had a small talk with her, but I only asked her to respect our relationship, that’s all.”
You’ve only ever nodded and believed him. It was all true, after all. He just failed to mention he’d had been at baseball practice that day, that he forced her to wear shoes he had put needles in that day. He never lied to you, and you could feel as much. You just never asked for the details.
He never hurt you. No, never you. Not even slightly. Every touch was almost reverent, like you were his angel. You trusted him. The way his chest rose up and down against your head when you laid together, the way his fingers lingered, his electrifying feather-light touches on your hips, ankles brushing against your legs at lunch- it was no question he loved you.
When you had mentioned that Asakawa had given you his notes from the day you were out sick, Oikawa, like always, never faltered in his cool and collected guise.
“Ho,’ He hummed, trailing his fingertips on your arm, rubbing sensually as you cheerfully spoke. “That was nice of him.” He smiled, pulling your arm toward him. “I’m glad you were able to get notes for that class.” He murmured, rubbing the back of your neck.
How could you still not get it? What did he need to do to make you understand that he hated it when others even looked in your direction, let alone guys? Why was he not enough? Did he not touch you lovingly enough, tell you he loved you enough?
Why was he never enough?
He bit back his raging resentment, and instead kissed the side of your neck, still tenderly rubbing circles on your backside. You could feel the possessiveness in his touches, but you just giggled and leaned into him. You liked it when he got a little jealous, it was cute. And if it meant that he’d kiss you like that again, you'd borrow notes from Asakawa a thousand times.
He held back a scoff. You were laughing. You thought this was funny?
He’d wipe that endearingly irritating smile off of you soon.
-
“Please, stop,’ You begged in between harsh breaths, fingernails digging into his back. He shuddered at the sting, backing away slightly to look at your face again.
Your eyes were swollen red from the violent crying, lips pulsing from how hard you had bit them, and he grinned at the sight. “Stop?” He twisted the knife inside the boy’s hand. “I’m not the one doing this to him.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion and fear at his words, his implication. His hand was the one on the knife. What could he possibly mean-
“You were the one who took his notes. You were the one that forced Matsubara to hand that water bottle to you. You were the one that stole me from those fangirls,” He laughed at that last part, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb. “But it’s okay, I don’t mind. You wanted me to do something about it, mm?”
Panic flooded you as you shook your head. He couldn’t be possibly putting this on you, that it was your fault. It wasn’t, wasn’t it? Sure, you may have instigated a little because you thought his small peeks of jealousy were cute, but that doesn’t make it completely your fault.
Did it? Maybe if you didn’t purposely ask a boy for notes, or feign laziness when asking a boy to hand you the water bottle, none of this would’ve happened. If you didn’t make him jealous. “N-No, not in this way, Tooru-”
A taunting laugh rang in the alleyway and dampened your protests. “Not in this way? Silly girl,” he cooed, looking back at the boy gasping in short breaths. “You can’t say that now.”
“Tooru, please,” You sputtered. “It’s not too late, you can stop now, we won’t tell anybody, we won’t, right?” You call out to the moaning boy, terror squeezing a tight fist around your heart when you look down at him. He looked pale. Really pale. Especially against the sheer amount of deep, red blood pooling around him.
“Sweetie, don’t make me into some monster,” He mumbled on top of your head, the vibrations sending chills down your spine. “I did this for you. To show you I loved you. This is the proof of my love. I would kill for you, pretty girl.” His last words hissed over your skin, and you fought every instinct in your bone to shove him away, to run from the boy you thought you once knew.
“I love you, (y/n).”
You shudder and let him wrap his arms around you, trail his lips down your neck, to your collarbone as you watch Asakawa’s breathing slow down to an excruciating stop.
You did this. Oikawa may have been the one to pull the trigger, but you loaded the gun and cocked it.
A tear slips down your eye but he catches it before it falls.
synopsis : oikawa would rather die than let you leave, so why did you even try?
You feel his groan reverberate in his chest as he presses the side of your face against him. “This is what you do to me, you know?” He closes his eyes when he says it, voice in a low drawl. A sharp squelch resounds next to your ear as he grunts and shudders, breathing in and out heavily as you feel his wrist twist around. You freeze when you hear something metal clatter on the floor.
Your eyes widen and your heart flips inside of you when you feel the distinctive warm, sticky liquid spread across your cheek.
No. It isn’t. He didn’t. A deep pit of panic grows in your stomach.
“T-Tooru, you’re scaring me,” You manage in a whimper. He only moans in response, hissing in air as if he was in pain. In an almost lightheaded haze, your palm moves on autopilot to press against the source of the heat, and you couldn’t help a gasp escape your throat.
You push yourself out of his grip to get a better look, to finally see exactly what the warm liquid was, even if you already knew. A shaky hand covers your mouth. Your tongue flinches away from your sticky palm as the familiar taste of metallic blood spreads inside your mouth. Your stomach lurches.
“Baby-” You wrap your other arm around your stomach to hold in the bile threatening to erupt out of your throat, and Oikawa stutters out a laugh, clutching his own waist. Your face twists in horror when you see his fingers dig inside the wound on his ribs, forcing more of his disturbing blood to stream out. “Tooru, what the he-” He grabs your wrist before you could make contact.
“You did this to me,” He snarled, his grip tight from the mix of betrayal and pain from his stinging gash. "You ruined me. And you say you're gonna leave, just like that? I don't think so."
Just as sudden as his flicker of anger, a softer gaze settles in his eyes, sending shivers down your spine. The eerie combination of his loving eyes against the unmistakable look of fury in his clenched jaw was unnerving.
He resented you. He was punishing you.
A warped smirk curled his lips. “My pretty girl, you can’t leave me, not like this,” His fingernails dig into your arm and you cry from the pain, earning a scoff from him. He pulls you closer, forcing your hand on his wound, pressing your palm onto it. “I won’t let you.”
The fear, now taking proper hold of you, kept you in place- pliant and shaking in Oikawa's bruising grip. You whisper his name repeatedly, shaking your head no as you start to hyperventilate, all the while keeping pressure on his injury. The hot tears streaming down your cheeks were wiped away and replaced with smeared blood, the coppery smell of iron flooding your nose making your lungs burn with each breath.
He cocked his head, his cruel smile boring into you as he slowly trailed his bloody fingertips up your chin to your lips. He ignored your weak protests and forced his index and middle fingers past your pursed lips. He sighs at the feeling of your wet mouth encompassing his fingers. He shoves them down slowly and deep, shivering when he feels you gag around them.
“I’d rather die than let you leave,” He murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He roughly pulls out and grasps your jaw in a painful grip to force you to look at him. He shakily takes in a deep breath as he stares you down- your eyes shut tight, cheeks stained with tears and diluted blood, your bottom lip quivering- as if he was committing it to memory. “You won’t leave me, will you?” He crooned, pressing your palm harder on his gash, forcing a whine out of you.
You look up at him through squinted and teary eyes, slowly shaking your head. Your voice is an incoherent mess of quiet cries, no’s, and stops, and you barely notice that his lips are on yours until muffled silence fills the air, and his tongue had already passed between your lips. You can feel every ounce of desperation, obsession, and manic love as he forced you to kiss back, tasting his blood on your tongue.
When he finally pulled away, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling in a tug as he looked into your eyes, your cries had finally quieted. You sniffle as you look up at him, hand still pressed into his abdomen as he presses a hot, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good girl, I knew you loved me,” He cooed, replacing your hand with his. “Now go get me a towel and let’s gauze this up, hm?”
Oikawa Tooru x female reader x Iwaizumi Hajime
w.c 8.6k
tw: yandere, mentions of child abuse and neglect, references to underage kissing, murder, horror themes, pseudo-cest (foster siblings), blanket dub/non-con vibes for a good portion of this
The patisserie smells of sugar, vanilla and freshly baked croissants. In a word; delicious.
For several minutes now, your brother’s been standing bent at the waist, studying the display case stacked full of cakes and desserts with an intense kind of focus. Considering. Deliberating. Inadvertently placing himself, and by extension you, as an obstacle for other people trying to do the same.
“Alright, the crepe cake or the fancy looking chocolate one, the…” Heisuke squints at the display case, trying to decipher the label, “gateaux? Or should we go for the red one with the strawberry mousse thing?”
Bingo. You hold back a smile.
“Go the strawberry one.” Nobody loves strawberries like your mom loves strawberries.
“Ok, great. We’ll grab that, a bottle of nice wine, hit the florist and I think that should do it.” He nods to himself, satisfied. “She’ll be over the moon.”
He’s not wrong. The woman you’ve called a mother for the past ten years would fall over herself for something as simple as a birthday card, regardless of the fact that your dad insists on going all out every year.
“She’s already over the moon; you’re home for the week.” The admission’s soft, hesitant – poking a little too close to an open wound for you to feel entirely comfortable voicing it. Hei gives you an odd look, but it mellows into something more genuine when he realises you’re not taking a stab at him.
Baby steps.
Finally, Heisuke steps up to the counter to order. Within minutes the cake’s boxed up, with little ice-packs slipped in to keep it cool, and paid for, and the two of you head out, you holding the door open for Hei to carefully maneuver his way out without jostling the precious, expensive cargo.
“You’re good at this stuff, y’know,” he says as the two of you fall into step together.
“At… picking cakes?”
He snorts, “No. I meant the whole… I don’t know. You’re good at remembering stuff, the cakes mom likes, dad’s weird habits. You probably already know what flowers we’re going to pick for her, don’t you?”
This time you don’t bother hiding your smile – peonies, pink ones.
You go to tell him as much when a loud voice calls out your name. On instinct, you both spin to the source, and when you meet those piercing, olive green eyes, bearing down at you from the other side of the street, your heart leaps into your throat.
A ghost.
You can’t breathe. For a moment you can’t even think. Your hand stretches out, blindly seeking Heisuke, an anchor, anything–
Before your fingers can brush his sleeve, a hard, lean body collides with yours, sweeping you up into a crushing hug. Not Iwaizumi, though.
Oikawa, taller, broader than the last time you saw him, smelling of citrus, summer and salt lets out a breathy noise, halfway between amazement and disbelief.
“There you are,” he beams, setting you back on unsteady legs.
Found you, the glint in his eyes seems to say.
Rather than let you go, step back and give you some much needed space to breathe, his palm instead slides to rest on your hip, taking your chin between the index finger and thumb of his other hand in order to look at you properly, dark eyes poring over you for signs of anything amiss – bruises, tear-tracks, red eyes, swollen, split lips.
Your mouth goes dry.
On one side, there’s your brother, bewildered, arm half outstretched as if he can’t make his mind up whether he should be intervening or not. Iwa’s already jogging across the street, snarling at a driver who lays on his horn.
The weight of Oikawa’s appraisal is as familiar to you as it is oppressive, and while his touch is delicate, featherlight, it burns to the marrow. Suddenly you’re fourteen again, trying to duck past him before he can notice the state of you.
‘It’s nothing, Tooru, don’t worry about it!’
And just like back then, there’s a knot in your chest that doesn’t loosen until satisfaction melts the too sharp edge to his grin – right as Iwa joins you two. Three, you suppose, because while Heisuke remains in stunned silence, eyes darting between you and Oikawa, he’s still party to this, still a witness, and the thought makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear forever.
(You shove down the fleeting rush of warmth at the relief you find there, the voice in your head that coos that he still cares enough to check. You don’t want him to care.)
“Holy fuck,” Iwa laughs, and Oikawa’s shoved aside, both of you ignoring the indignant grumbling as your rigid body’s pulled into his chest, his hand finding its way to the back of your head. He breathes in slow. Deep.
He still smells the same, earthy and masculine, the faintest tinge of his last cigarette still clinging to his jacket. Back then, he used to steal them from your foster father. You imagine that now, he probably has the money to go off and buy his own.
“I’m sorry, who are you? What– can you let her go, please?”
If it wasn’t them, the sheer absurdity of the moment might’ve made you giggle. Heisuke’s ears are bright red, a flush that extends down his neck. He doesn’t look angry per se, uncomfortable, absolutely, but from the pinched expression on his face, it’s clear he’s fighting the urge to bite out something far less polite.
None of this, least of all the way they’re tugging you between them like a rag-doll, feels very polite to begin with.
As it is, Heisuke’s interruption has the intended effect. The fingers wound in your hair twitch, the cage of his arms drawing you closer. You almost expect the baring of teeth, a possessive snarl, yet it’s a small, almost imperceptible thing. He retreats – reluctantly – turning to glance at your brother, Oikawa by his side.
Judging from the stony, almost bored expression he levels at Hei, he’s not impressed.
“Friend of yours, imouto?” Oikawa’s purr skitters down your spine like ice. Unlike Iwa, there’s nothing less than friendly curiosity on the surface. He’s even smiling.
Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you find your voice.
“Hei, this is Iwaizumi and Oikawa,” you say, gesturing at each respectively. “We were in the same foster home for a while.” Sparing the two of them half a glance, you continue, “We’re actually right in the middle of something, if you’ll excuse us.”
The explicit dismissal’s bolder than you feel, but you’re proud that your voice doesn’t waver. You can’t say the same for your hand when you reach for Heisuke’s spare one, uttering the words that’ll only damn you further, “C’mon, nii-san. Mom and dad are waiting.”
Heisuke doesn’t blink. His hand slips into yours, the two of you sidestepping the pair and walking off towards the car without a backwards glance.
Neither one of you speaks until you’re buckled into the passenger seat, Heisuke adjusting the rear-view mirror, the cake safely stashed away in the back. Until you’re pulling out onto the main road and there’s distance between you and them.
If only the gnawing, unsettling feeling in your stomach would go with it.
“Sorry,” you mumble, blankly staring out the window at the passing scenery. At the clouds hanging overhead, dark and threatening. Funny, that. Fitting. The skies were clear when you left home this morning. “About the nii-san thing, and grabbing your hand,” you clarify, because whether it was rude or not, you’ll be damned before you apologise for brushing them off.
That’s not your relationship with Hei. It’s never been that.
He eyes you for a beat. “You know, I never understood why mom wanted to adopt so bad. Dad too, but mom was always the one pushing for it. We were happy, the three of us. I wasn’t a screw up, their marriage was solid. I couldn’t understand the need to bring someone else in. Our family was fine, perfect the way it was.”
His thumb taps against the steering wheel, his shoulders loose and relaxed. You can’t quite pin the mood he’s in, where he’s going with this.
“Oh,” you say, mostly because it feels like he’s waiting for you to acknowledge it.
None of what he’s saying is news to you. None of it’s anything you haven’t wondered yourself a thousand times over. It’s just that Heisuke… you’ve never talked about this. Your adoption, your relationship with him, none of it. This sort of honesty is brand new territory for you both.
You’re not so sure you’re loving the development.
“When they committed to it, I thought they’d bring home a baby, a kid, not some weird, skittish fourteen year old who wanted nothing to do with me.”
Ah.
Your cheeks heat, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here. If Heisuke notices how you shift in your seat, the small tightening of your expression, he plows on regardless.
“You wouldn’t look at me, would barely talk to me. Hell, you acted like I had the plague most of the time. You didn’t hate me, I don’t think, you just… didn’t want to be anywhere near me, and it bugged the hell out of me. I couldn’t figure it out; who wouldn’t want an older brother to look out for them?” His next words hit you like a sledgehammer, cracking at something vital in your chest. It hurts before he opens his mouth.
“It was them, wasn’t it? The reason you steered clear ‘til I moved out of home.”
“Heis–”
He cuts you off with a look. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he demands.
“Can we just– it doesn’t matter, alright? Can we move on?”
From the unhappy set of his jaw – the first true sign of discontent he’s expressed since getting in the car with you – it’s obvious there’s more he wants to say. You can’t blame him for that, curiosity’s only human.
But you’re still too raw. It’s too soon.
You’ve spent too long burying those secrets deep to rip yourself apart to bring them to light.
“Please, Hei. Let’s focus on mom’s birthday.” You force a smile, tiny and wrong, “The florist is next, yeah?”
You get a grunt of acknowledgement and not much more than that, your brother’s attention pulling back to the drive. The silence that settles in the car should bring some relief. It’s what you wanted, and yet, amongst the churning feeling in your guts, the prickling at the back of your neck that hasn’t left you since you first spotted Iwa across the road, there’s a sense of discomfort that has nothing to do with crossing paths with your past life.
Like a slap in the face, it hits you that you’re floundering for something to say, something – anything – to bridge the sudden, stark divide between you. Something that won’t sound hollow and meaningless.
This thing you have with Heisuke. It took years, and maybe it’s skin deep and miles from what it should be, but the thought of losing it leaves you feeling oddly panicked.
It’ll… hurt.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, because it’s about all you can give him right now, a tried and true method of soothing egos and hurt.
Heisuke doesn’t say anything for the remainder of the drive, and you resign yourself to the very real possibility that in the course of a single conversation, you’ve managed to fracture this fragile thing between you two.
Until you go for the door, and a hand on your wrist stops you. “Hey. I’m glad they did.”
—
When you startle awake a little after midnight, it’s because he’s yelling again.
Mr. Furukawa had been in fine form at dinner, already three beers deep. You can only begin to imagine what’s set him off now, hours after lights out. His wife, probably. Although it’s equally possible he’s caught the oldest sneaking back in from seeing his girlfriend, or the twins trying to break into the pantry for a midnight snack. Or he tripped and stubbed his toe, or thought someone stole the rest of his beer when in reality he’d already swallowed it down.
The reasons don’t really matter when he’s been drinking like that, in the same way that the initial target of his ire doesn’t matter. Once his voice reaches that slurred, furious pitch, anyone’s fair game.
There’s a pair of headphones in the top drawer, you have every intention of yanking them out and putting on one of your sleep playlists, drowning out the noise of your foster father’s drunken raging until he wears himself out or you fall back to sleep when you hear the thumping of his feet on the staircase.
“Where’s that fucking bitch?”
Eyes wide in the darkness, clutching at the comforter, your pulse jumps.
Again, it’s possible he’s talking about Mrs. Furukawa, or one of your foster sisters – the older one hunched over in the bed opposite yours, watching you shrewdly.
“Well go on then,” she sneers. “Run to your big brothers.”
You don’t bother to respond, any hesitation you might’ve had over leaving her to fend for herself shrivelling up under the mocking bitterness she’s sending your way. Fine, whatever. You don’t care what she thinks, scrambling from the warmth of your bed and hurrying for the door.
He’s halfway up the staircase when you reach their room. You’d knock – it’s the polite thing to do – except you definitely don’t want to be out in plain view when your foster father hits the landing.
“Hajime?” you whisper into the darkness, slipping inside and shutting the door behind you, “Tooru?”
“Shit, c’mere.” At Hajime’s voice, the calloused, rough hands that guide you onto his mattress, the vice around your chest loosens. He won’t come in here, not after Hajime socked him in the face after catching sight of the raised, discoloured flesh of your cheek from your last run in. You’ve gotten better at using make-up to conceal the marks since then, but there’s also been less of a need for it.
“Can I stay for a bit?” you ask. Until he calms down and passes out. Until the sun rises and you can sneak back into your room. Until you feel safe again. It’s kind of a pointless question, considering how many times you’ve done this before and how many times they’ve let you. You ask it anyway.
The scoff that sounds moments before the mattress dips on your other side is answer enough. “You should probably just move in at this point. We’ll kick Iwa out, he can go sleep in bitch-face’s room.”
Although you know you shouldn’t, a not-so-nice grin tugs at your lips, nestling into Tooru’s side under the arm he offers, “She’d drive him homicidal in a week.”
“Doesn’t she already?” Hajime mutters. “And fuck off, if anyone’s moving out it’s you.”
“You’d miss me too much.”
Absentmindedly, he rubs at your arm like it’s second nature. “In your dreams, Shitty-kawa.”
You can still hear Mr. Furukawa stomping around outside, snarling and snapping at no-one and nothing. Your pulse skitters, an inbuilt panic response. But the lights are off, you’re not being too noisy, and he’s wary of the other two.
He won’t come in here.
“Relax, we’ve got you,” Tooru breathes, his nose nudging at your temple. “Where were you this afternoon?” His voice is so soft, a soothing rumble that it takes you a second to register what he’s said.
“This afternoon?”
“Mm. You didn’t come home when you were supposed to. We were worried.”
He’s pouting, you can tell. Which– he can’t be genuinely bothered by it, it was only a few hours, and the Furukawas don’t care where you are or what you do so long as you’re back before curfew. You were.
A distraction then?
“I went out with some friends. We hung out at the arcade for a bit,” your expression brightens, thinking of the lights and the laughter, your feet blurring as you hit the sensors on Dance Dance Revolution… poorly. “It was actually pretty fun!”
Tooru hums again, “Which friends?” at the same time that Hajime says, “You didn’t tell us you were going out.”
“I didn’t realise I had to check in.” And because the slightly bitter and very defensive edge to your tone catches even you by surprise, you sigh, softening. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I? A social life?”
You’ve been in this home for a few months now, and this is the first time any of your classmates have invited you anywhere.
This time it’s Tooru who sighs. He coaxes your face upwards with a hand on your cheek, peering through the dim light at you, “I’m not saying this to be cruel or hurt you, but… I need you to be more careful, okay?”
You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His thumb glides across your cheek bone, hesitating on whatever it is he wants to say– at least until Hajime huffs and mutters, “Just tell her, dude. You’re the one that brought it up.”
“Tell me what?”
“You’re a foster kid,” he reminds you, as if this is vital information that’s somehow slipped your mind. “That’s all they see when they look at us, all they’ll ever see. No money, no family, nothing worth wasting their time on. We’re charity cases at best, at worst…” he trails off, the sentence dangling in the air.
He thinks it’s a trick, you realise. He thinks they’re setting you up in an elaborate joke where you’re the punchline.
Bright blue eyes and a crooked grin flash in your head. Cheeks dusted pink and the warmth of his hand in yours.
“That’s not true,” you defend, though the words sound weak even to your ears.
Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, the gentle, pitying expression on his face twists at your insides like a knife. You hardly notice Hajime scooching closer, shifting the blankets so they cover you both, too busy staring at your foster brother with wide eyes and parted lips, a thick lump of emotion lodging itself in your throat. Tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, and you blink them back.
You won’t cry in front of them over this. You refuse.
“No? You’ve been here for months now. If they wanted to be your friend, truly, genuinely wanted that, why haven’t they made an effort before now? I’m not trying to be a dick,” he murmurs when your breathing hitches, “The kids in this town, they’re assholes. I just can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you.”
Hajime nods. “We only wanna protect you, imouto.”
But you don’t need to be protected. Omori isn’t like that. His friends aren’t either.
—
When the last bell rings for the day, you walk down to the gates to find Hajime there, leaning against the brickwork with a pilfered cigarette dangling between his fingers.
That in and of itself isn’t a surprise. Lately they’ve taken up the habit of ditching their last period to make the half mile trek to your school in order to walk back home with you. Most days, you don’t mind. Today, however–
“I sent you a message at lunch, you didn’t need to come all the way down here, I’m going to a friend’s place to study. Sorry, I thought you would’ve seen it before you left.”
He drops the cherry red remnants of his cigarette to the ground and grinds the butt under his heel, eyeing you slowly from head to toe. “Which friend?”
“When did you become so nosey?” you laugh, a touch uneasily. “It’s only for an hour or so, I’ll be back before dinner, promise. I’m all yours after that.” The last part’s meant to lighten the mood a little, yet something flashes in his eyes, a twitch in his jaw, and you get the sense that he doesn’t find it all that funny.
“Which friend? That slimy piece of shit you were hanging out with last weekend?”
Omori? How does he–
You frown, “We went to the movies, Hajime, it’s not illegal. And he’s not slimy or a little shit, he’s my friend.” A friend who sets butterflies loose in your stomach and makes you weak at the knees, but Hajime doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh, I’m sure he wants to be your friend,” he mutters darkly.
Your cheeks burn hotly, “Why are you being like this? He’s a nice guy. Besides, it’s not him. I’m going to Masako’s to work on a group presentation we’ve got due in a few days. I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal out of it!”
“Your mistake,” he says, as if you’re the one being unreasonable here, and before you can spit out a retort, his hand is curled around your bicep, tugging you down the road. “C’mon, we’re going home. Tell your little friend you can work on your project tomorrow at lunch.”
“Ha-Hajime!” His too tight grip on you doesn’t relent, his stride doesn’t falter. Nervously, you dart a glance around, half hoping that someone will intercede, all the while praying that no one’s actually noticed him dragging you off like a misbehaving toddler.
As always, you’re not that lucky. The sight of your classmates pointing your way, giggling behind their hands sends a hot pulse of shame flooding through you.
“You know you’re not my actual brother, I don’t need your permission!”
That does stop him, turning back around to throw a scowl at you, “No? Because I don’t see anyone else lining up to stop you from spreading your legs for the first asshole who comes sniffing around. Jesus Christ, weren’t you listening the other day?”
“I’m fourteen!” you shriek, ripping your arm away from him. “Stop being gross and leave me alone, I already told you I’m going to Masako’s. We have a project. For school!”
In an instant, he closes the gap between you. Hajime isn’t as tall as Tooru, but at two years older, he still towers over you, all broad shouldered and intense, and while he’s always cut an intimidating figure, it strikes you that this is the first time you’ve ever looked at him and felt afraid.
A split second later, and he exhales with a mumbled curse, the tension deflating from his body like a pin’s been pulled. In a quieter voice, hooking an arm over your neck to press a fleeting kiss to your hair, he says, “Sometimes it feels like I’m losing my damn mind trying to keep us all safe and sane and fucking together.”
It’s not exactly an apology. Still…you shift on your feet, nibbling at your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for snapping,” you mumble – an olive branch, even if you’re not feeling particularly charitable right now. The problem is, you do understand where he’s coming from. In two years, they’ll both age out, free to go and do whatever the hell they want. There’s a not insignificant part of you that’s terrified that when that time comes, they’re not gonna hang around another two years waiting for you.
You’re not sure you can hold them to that promise.
And that’s if nothing happens before then. Foster kids in group homes get shuffled all the time, there’s no guarantee all three of you will still be with the Furukawas come their 18th birthdays.
Of course he’s over-protective. Of course he’s being a little nuts about it.
Hajime nods, pats you on the head and gives you a rare smile, “Good. Now get your ass moving, we gotta get home.”
“Wait, but I thought–” you’d apologised, he’d admitted he was overreacting… sort of. Isn’t that enough?
“Social worker’s coming by this afternoon. Furukawa wants us to play happy families ‘til they’re gone. Your friend’s gonna have to wait.”
And that’s that.
Dejection washes over you, trudging back home with Hajime – trying not to be childish and petty and hold it against him.
The social worker never shows, but there’s a message waiting on your phone when you finally manage to pry yourself away from Hajime and Tooru.
Your brother’s a dick. Raincheck? ;)
Butterflies erupt.
—
You’ve been biting your lip again.
The raw, chapped evidence stares back at you in the mirror.
A few days ago, they were a little swollen, rough and reddened. The sight of it sent a giddy sort of thrill through you, a physical – if not sore – reminder of your afternoon spent kissing a cute boy with very pretty blue eyes.
Now, the state of your lips is the least of your worries. You’ll bite your lips, gnaw on your fingernails right down to the quick, pace and think and pace and think, fingers tap, tap tapping at your side.
“You look tired.”
The arms that loop around your shoulders, dragging you back into a loose hug don’t bring the sense of comfort they usually do. Things have been weird between you. Off.
Ever since Tooru caught sight of your face that day, saw the messages on your phone.
‘I never took you for a liar, imouto.’
The resultant argument left you choking on sobs, heart-broken and beaten down in a way that you haven’t felt since you found out your parents died.
It’s a strange, alienating thing to be cut so viciously by the only people who give a damn about you.
At first, you had Omori there to help pick up the pieces. He wasn’t allowed over, of course, and even if he were, you doubt it’d do anything but throw a whole gallon of kerosene on the fire. Still, being able to message and vent to him felt like a lifeline.
And then he simply… stopped replying. Your last message sitting there for two days on read.
You tried not to feel hurt. Maybe this whole thing was too intense, too quick. My god, you weren’t even dating officially, he was just, you were–
It was fine. Not everyone’s tied to their phone, and he doesn’t owe you anything. Maybe something came up, maybe his phone died.
But then, come Monday, he wasn’t in school.
On Tuesday morning, sitting in first period maths, a grim-faced man in a dull suit informs your class that Omori’s been missing since Saturday morning. You’re passed a business card with the detective’s name and phone number printed in crisp, black font and encouraged to contact him if there’s anything you can think of that might help them.
Uneasy looks are shared. No one says a word.
Which brings you to today, to the hug Tooru’s drawn you into and his voice murmuring at your ear.
“Aren’t you still mad at me?”
His laugh rumbles at your back, “Maybe I miss you too much.”
You should tell him to shove it. Whether you’re in the right or the wrong, it’s not fair of him to play hot and cold with you like this. Being at odds with your brothers is painful enough on its own, dealing with that on top of everything with Omori – it’s too much. You’ll drown under the weight of it.
And so you turn, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying yourself against him. “I don’t wanna fight anymore. I’m sorry.”
While he doesn’t say anything back, he does squeeze you that little bit tighter. You’re content with that, soaking up the affection and comfort you’ve sorely been without. It’s an apology, yes. It’s also forgiveness.
“Where’s Hajime?” you ask after a little while. They aren’t inseparable by any means, but you don’t think you’ve seen him this afternoon at all.
Rather than answering you, the brunet pulls back enough to meet your gaze, a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re going out tonight.”
The words bring you up short. “But–”
“Furukawa won’t know a thing. It’ll be fun, pinky promise.” He holds out said pinky, the grin on his face infectious enough that you offer a tiny one of your own, locking your finger around his.
He winks.
—
“Sweetheart, shall we open the wine?”
She hasn’t stopped beaming all afternoon, delighted at the flowers and the gifts, your dad humming away in the kitchen, cooking enough to feed a small army.
Heisuke’s already plucking a bottle from the fridge, glasses set out on the counter. He lifts a questioning brow in your direction and you nod with as much of a smile as you can muster. Nothing sounds more appealing to you right now than a drink.
Several of them, actually. You’ll start with one.
“Thanks,” you murmur when he passes it to you.
Quietly enough that your parents won’t hear, he asks, “You good?”
“I’m good,” you reassure him, lying through your teeth. His knuckles knock against yours, and when you glance up, there’s a wordless promise that the two of you aren’t done with this.
He’s been watching you ever since you got home. Not in the predatory, possessive way they used to, just… you very reluctantly gave him crumbs – not even that much – yet he’s staring at you like you’re a piece of a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you don’t know how to deal with it.
It makes you nervous.
“Did something happen between you two?” The quiet voice at your side startles you – perhaps you’re more on edge than you’d like to admit, because your whole body flinches, the wine in your glass sloshing up over the rim, just barely avoiding your dress and the edge of the couch.
You hadn’t even noticed your mom had sat down.
Cursing under your breath, you jump up before she can, snatching some paper towels from the kitchen, paying no mind the slight, disapproving tilt to your father’s mein (the one which, to his credit, he does try to hide) to mop up the mess on the floor.
“Sorry,” you throw out, both for the spill and for swearing, because that too is something neither of your parents are fond of, but your mom’s quick to wave it away.
“Nonsense. You’re fine, sweet girl. Come, sit!” She pats the seat you’ve vacated. “Relax.”
Your dad’s in the kitchen, laughing with Hei. Your mom’s still happy – it’s slowly leaching from her eyes the longer she looks at you, the more she sees. Relax.
Today’s supposed to be a happy day.
Relax.
You can’t.
They know some of your past. Bits and pieces.
In ten years, you’ve never uttered a single word about them. Not to anyone.
The more you shove it down, the more it fights back, bubbling away inside of you like the tempest of a storm. You can feel yourself cracking, unshed tears burning at your eyes.
You can’t.
“… Mom–”
A knock cuts through the rising tide of emotion battering through you, and all four of you start.
Your dad moves first, drying his hands and striding on over to answer it. On his way, he glances to where you and your mom are sitting – instinctively. Unthinkingly. He glances her way a thousand times a day – to check in, to see what she’s doing, to catch those little expressions she makes, only this time he isn’t met with the picture of a happy wife and daughter. You see it when it hits him, the tension, your wrought expression, the hand your mom’s slipped you in the seconds since, holding you tight and keeping you tethered.
You see it when he does a double take, sharp surprise quickly overtaken by alarm.
Another knock at the door. Louder.
His head snaps back towards the door, glaring at it like it’s personally wronged him. “One sec,” he mutters to no one in particular, and your mom squeezes your hand as he yanks it open with a touch more force than necessary.
“Yes?”
The air punches out of your lungs.
From where you’re sitting, the door cracked ajar, your dad’s frame blocking the gap, you can’t see who’s there. Not until he peeks over your dad’s shoulder, his charming grin widening into something shark-like and predatory when he spots you, delighted.
An elevator careening out of control, your stomach plummets.
Ignoring your dad – your family as a whole – entirely, Oikawa addresses you. “You dropped this this morning. Clumsy girl.”
Iwa passes him something, your wallet, you realise when he holds it out to you, waving it like a dog treat.
Your wallet with your ID, this address, tucked away inside.
The wallet you absolutely, in no way dropped.
Primarily on instinct, shaking like a newborn foal, you start to rise, to stumble forward and take it from him, only it’s Heisuke who moves first. Angrier than you think you’ve ever seen him, he plants himself between you, one arm outstretched as if to keep you back, his withering gaze fixed on the duo.
“Thank you for returning it,” he bites out. “You can leave now.”
For your parents, already on edge, suspicious by their familiarity and your reaction to it, it’s enough to set their hackles up. Gone is any semblance of politeness when your father snatches your wallet from Oikawa’s fingers, “Go.”
Up until now, Oikawa’s paid them all the attention one would a gnat, an annoyance maybe, but one hardly worth acknowledging. That changes as his head tilts, dark eyes appraising your father.
“What’s the rush?” he asks, reaching behind him. You can’t see it, what with your dad and now Heisuke standing between you, but there’s movement, your dad lets out a sudden, choked off gurgle, lurching back inside.
Your eyes widen, a bone chilling horror taking hold of you as you spy the sleek black handle of a knife sticking out his gut, a slow stain of red seeping out around it.
“We’ve still got so much catching up to do.”
—
You’ve never been this far into the woods before.
Stars glitter overhead, condensation from your breath puffing out with every exhale. It’s cold out. The path you’re walking isn’t one of the trails they lay for hikers and tourists, and you’ve been walking for a while.
Still, Tooru’s hand is warm entwined with yours, and there’s that wicked thrill in your belly that comes from breaking the rules, doing secret, exciting things in the dead of night.
“Is Hajime waiting for us?” you ask, when you can hold the question back no longer.
“Always Hajime with you, isn’t it,” he teases. “Y’know, a guy could develop a complex with all this favouritism being thrown around.”
You’re pulled closer into his side even as he says it, and you go happily. You’ve got your brothers back – tonight you’re only thinking good thoughts.
Tonight he promised you fun.
A giddy bounce in your step, you follow where your big brother leads until you spot a glow in the trees ahead, smell the smoke on the mid-autumn breeze.
Tooru grins in the dark, “Have you ever been to a bonfire?”
You shake your head.
It takes another few minutes before you can see the fire in all its grandeur, Hajime standing off to the side, warming his hands against the flames. They dance through the clearing, bright and high and hot, hot enough that you briefly consider shedding the jacket Tooru swaddled you up in before you left.
A bonfire?
They built this for you?
You look incredulously to Tooru, “This is where he’s been all day?”
“More or less.”
“Do you like it, pretty girl?” Hajime calls out when you’re closer. Your hand slips from Tooru’s as you leap forward, allowing him to catch you in his arms and tug you against him, and like earlier with Tooru, it eases some of the hurt weighing you down. He’s here, he’s not angry anymore, you can fight and argue like siblings but they aren’t going anywhere.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing down your hair. “It’s pretty cool,” you tell him with a decisive nod, making him chuckle.
“Maybe we should add more accelerant,” Tooru says, eyeing the flames with a considering look. “I don’t know if it’s hot enough.”
Hajime scoffs, “We don’t need any more accelerant.”
“But–”
“It’s fine, dumbass. Leave it.”
Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Tooru takes the space on your other side. In the Western movies you’ve seen, these bonfire things usually have more of a party-like vibe. There’s music and dancing. Drinking. This is something wholly different.
You don’t mind the quiet, though, sitting between your brothers on the fallen log they dragged over. Listening to the crackle of the fire. Watching red embers spark and fly off into the night.
You’ve missed this. Them.
In the hypnosis of the fire, the heat that covers you like a blanket – burning strongly enough, despite what Tooru thinks, that down to a tee-shirt, leaning into Hajime’s side, Tooru playing with your fingers, you feel you could so easily drift off to sleep, sated and content.
“You love us, don’t you?” Tooru says it so quietly, so off-handedly, that for a moment you don’t hear the stinging accusation beneath the words.
When it does, whatever fleeting contentment you’d managed to wrap yourself up in is ripped away, leaving you cold and exposed.
A slap in the face might’ve stung less.
You gape at him. At the both of them. “How can you ask me that?”
Tooru shrugs, casual and cruel, “I dunno. You lied to us. Multiple times.”
“Snuck around behind our backs,” Hajime adds.
“Kept things from us. Don’t think we haven’t noticed the new lock on your phone, imouto. Doesn’t sound like love to me.”
“I– I’ve already apologised.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but with every word that pours out of you, the faster your heart beats and the more distress leaks into your tone. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I went behind your backs, I’m sorry I kissed him! I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t know how to fix this!”
Hot tears spring to your eyes, stinging as you ferociously blink them back.
If you start crying now, they’ll probably just mock you. That, or they’ll claim that you’re trying to manipulate them into feeling bad with crocodile tears and hiccuping sniffles.
In a tiny voice, you say, “I didn’t do any of it to hurt you. Please,” you beg helplessly. “You can’t keep holding it over my head and punishing me for it.”
“You think we’re punishing you?” Tooru asks, still in that cold, flat tone that makes you want to sob.
Aren’t they? Sure feels like it.
Hajime lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head and staring up at the night sky. “You still don’t fucking get it.”
Hands slip under your armpits and without warning you find yourself hoisted onto Tooru’s lap. It’s whiplash, especially when he curls around you, those lithe arms caging you in, and presses a kiss to your burning cheek. “Iwa, brute that he is, is right. You’re not listening to us. This isn’t punishment. You can pretend to hate us, cry, yell, fight. You can try to shut us out if that’s what you feel you need, but this,” his chin juts out at the bonfire crackling merrily a few feet away, “this is love.” He shivers as he says it, voice like honey. “We did it for you, and I’d do so much more.”
Your head’s still spinning, reeling from being yanked from one extreme to another. Hot and cold. Spiteful to affectionate. You stare at the fire, but you don’t understand.
“Yeah, like you didn’t enjoy the hell out of it,” Hajime snorts, which makes even less sense.
“…You mean the– the bonfire?”
Tooru laughs. His nose skims along the shell of your ear, earning him a shiver of your own. “Hm, almost.”
So you peer at the fire like it’s supposed to give you the answers you need. There’s nothing. It’s a fire, there’s nothing special about…
Oh.
You learn forward – as much as the cage of his embrace will allow, at any rate – squinting a little. Nestled beneath the stacked logs and kindling, there’s an oddly shaped lump, black and gnarled, with ridges and a scooped out hollow that kinda looks like–
Your blood runs cold.
“What’s the matter, baby?” he croons. “You’ve been so sad all week, wondering where your friend up and disappeared to. Aren’t you glad to see him again?”
“No.” Whisper soft, the noise lost to the crackling of the fire. You shake your head, “This– you’re being cruel. Stop it, it’s not funny.”
But the tears you’ve so valiantly held back are falling, your breath coming in short, panicky gasps. The skull in the fire doesn’t look fake, and if this is a prank, it’s gone beyond too far.
Your head grows light and all too heavy at the same time, “That isn’t– you didn’t– you… you– you wouldn’t–”
“No?” the voice at your ear questions, low and dangerous. “You think I wouldn’t stab the little fuck after you kissed him?”
“Stop it,” you tearfully beg, squeezing your eyes shut. The skull’s still there, burned into the back of your eyelids.
No, no, no. Omori isn’t dead.
Omori isn’t dead.
Your heart slams against your ribs, a violent chorus to the swell of sick dread and fear you’re desperately trying to tamp down. Omori isn’t dead!
“STOP IT!”
They wouldn’t kill him.
The crunch of footsteps sounds, and you don’t need your vision to know that Hajime’s now crouching in front of you. When rough fingers seize your jaw, holding you in place, and he leans in close, almost nose to nose, they fly open regardless.
“You ever try that shit again, and next time we’ll drag you by the fucking hair and do it in front of you,” he promises, calm despite the fury that rages in his eyes.
Caged between them, Hajime appraises you, taking in your hysteria, the tears dripping down your face, your bottom lip quivering – as though he’s committing the sight to memory. His eyes dart to Tooru’s for a brief second, the latter squeezing your side, before he speaks. “If you’d listened to us in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t make us into monsters, sweetheart.”
Your fault is what you hear.
There’s a loud pop from the fire, and you lose it entirely.
You explode. Elbows flying, kicking, clawing. A wild, terrified, desperate thing, and it takes them by surprise – enough to catch Tooru in the gut, loosening his grip. Enough to knock Hajime back onto his ass. A gap, however small, for you to scramble to your knees, violently kicking back when a hand snatches at your ankle, and flee through the woods in the dark, away from the furious shouts, the raging footsteps chasing after you.
You run and your lungs burn, heaving for every breath.
The light of the bonfire disappears behind you, plunging the forest into an inky black, and the shouts and yells turn into calls of your name, then coaxing pleas, almost sounding worried. Eventually, those grow distant too, and fade away altogether.
You keep running, uncertain of where you’re going. No, blind to it entirely. All that matters is keeping out of their reach. You’ll run to the ends of the earth if you have to.
And so you push until your legs scream for a reprieve, until you taste iron on your tongue and when your body can keep the pace no longer, you stumble through the underbrush, tripping over roots and branches instead, pausing every once in a while to lean against a tree and catch your breath.
As your adrenaline fades and the sweat dampening your clothes cools, the cold night air bites like needles at your skin, you start to shiver, rubbing at your exposed arms in an effort to generate a little warmth. Bitterly, you remember that the jacket that you’d brought, the one Tooru had all but forced on you before you’d left, is back at the bonfire, slung over a nearby log. Useless to you now.
But the shivers that wrack your body aren’t solely from the dropping temperature.
Every snapping branch, hoot of an owl, rustle of leaves sends a fresh wave of terror spiking through you. You think of Tooru’s cruel smirk and Hajime’s bruising grip, of Omori’s skull staring back at you from the fire, flesh melted to the bone, black and twisted, and a ragged, distraught sob brings you to your knees.
Hopelessly lost, cold, frightened and alone, you curl into the dirt and cry.
—
Hikers find you at dawn.
Emergency services are called – an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital to be poked and prodded, police to question why a fourteen year old girl was wandering the woods alone at night.
They treat you for dehydration and mild hypothermia, a few small cuts and scrapes, and when a soft spoken nurse pulls the curtain around your bed and gently asks if you’d like them to perform a rape kit, you blanch and shake your head. Eventually, they allow the detective into the room. In his late forties, bespectacled, a smattering of grey dusted throughout his close cropped black hair, he pulls up a chair beside the bed and patiently asks how you’re feeling.
If you were a better person, you’d tell him everything. The Furukawas’ abuse, your foster brothers’ increasingly overprotective behaviour, sneaking behind their back to see Omori and the fight that followed that nearly ripped you apart.
The bonfire.
Your fault, your fault, your fault.
Omori deserves that much. His parents should know what happened to their son.
Your jacket lying forgotten by his bones.
“Please don’t take me back there,” you mumble, tears shining in your eyes.
Back to the woods, or the Furukawas. Back to the boys you’d loved who’d murdered for you.
In the end, it doesn’t really matter that that’s all they can get out of you. A traumatised teenager found miles from home without a single soul raising the alarm would be one thing. When that traumatised teenager’s a girl supposedly under the care of government approved guardians, it raises red flags not even they can ignore.
By lunch, they’ve arranged for you to be placed back in an all-girl orphanage until a more suitable, long term solution can be found.
—
Some nights you dream that you’re back there, in their bedroom at the Furukawas’. It’s dark and cozy, there’s an arm slung over your waist and you find yourself drifting off to the steady beat of the heart behind you, soft snores by your ear.
They’re nice dreams. You feel safe, loved.
Tucked away in your subconscious, nothing exists but the sanctuary of them, and when you inevitably feel that tug of awareness coaxing you awake, you sink your fingers in and cling to it for dear life.
Just another minute. Another few seconds. Please.
Right now, you’d give anything to wake up and have this be nothing more than a nightmare you can banish.
But there’s no escaping this one. Your dad’s on the living room floor by the couch, hunkered over, pale and sweaty, pressing what was once a clean dish towel to the wound in his stomach. The coffee table’s been pushed to the side, Heisuke and your mom sat on the chairs Oikawa dragged into its place, ankles zip-tied to the legs, wrists bound, duct tape slapped across both of their mouths. Between the knife Oikawa idly toys with, still wet with blood, the handgun held loosely in Iwa’s palm and your dad slowly bleeding out on the floor, they’ve been compliant.
Much like you have, although you’re neither bound nor gagged, sitting in the armchair Iwa ushered you to, arms looped around your knees with the man himself perched against the backrest.
The only one of you making any kind of noise at all is your dad, his voice a slurring mumble, words near intelligible. He’s begging, you can tell that much. Pleading through gritted teeth for them to let you go, not to hurt you, your mom, Hei.
You desperately wanna tell him to save his breath, but you can’t even look at him – at any of them – without wanting to throw up.
“Do you still love us, imouto?”
Your eyes track Oikawa as he leans over the two chairs, the edge of his knife carelessly poised above Heisuke’s shoulder. From your periphery you see him flinch and stiffen, the sharp uptick of his breath smothered by duct tape, but you don’t dare shift your attention from the brunet smiling genially back at you.
Your heart squeezes, clenched by an invisible fist. Buried deep beneath the guilt and the paralysing dread, a slightly hysterical part of you almost wants to laugh.
“Do you think I could ever stop?”
Surprise flashes in his eyes and his grin widens. “You ran,” he accuses.
“You ran again this morning,” Iwa adds, sounding far less amused.
“I was scared.”
“Of us?” Iwa slides off the back of the couch, straightening up. In an instant, his hand’s wrapped around your throat, the broad pad of his thumb forcing your jaw upwards. “You think we’d ever fucking hurt you?” he growls, looking genuinely angry.
Distantly you register the sound of Heisuke’s muffled indignation, another gasping wheeze from your dad, but all that fades to the background as Iwa’s mouth crashes against yours.
He doesn’t kiss you sweetly. It’s invasive, rough. His hand flexes around your throat, forcing a gasp to drive his tongue between your lips, and you can feel every ounce of possession, of pent up need and frustration as he drags it on despite the awkward angle.
When he does break away, eyes darkened and simmering, he holds your gaze, ignoring the pointed throat clearing from the other side of the room. “Never,” he swears, waiting for you to nod before finally relaxing his grip. “Good girl.” To Oikawa, watching you both with a barely constrained hunger, he says, “Enough screwing around. Do it and let’s go.”
Oikawa huffs, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Should’ve known you’d get all impatient after you had a taste.”
“Like you’re not?”
There’s not enough air in the room, your heart’s doing somersaults in your chest, your pulse hammering through your veins. Oikawa stares at you, head tilted, the corner of his lip slowly curling up as you start to tremble, shaking your head, tears beading at your lashes, “I guess we could hurry it along.”
“No, please–”
“Shh, sweet girl. It’s okay.” You try to stand up, but Iwa takes a hold of your shoulder and forces you back down. “Me and Iwa, we were gonna give you a choice. Let you pick. If you could kill one of them, we’d let the other two go.”
A strangled sob rips its way free, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. We’re not gonna make you do that,” he comforts, side-stepping your now thrashing brother to make his way over towards you. “Cause the thing is, they kept you from us. Lied to you. Manipulated you. Whether they meant to or not, they hurt you. I don’t think they deserve that kind of mercy, do you?”
“No, no, no, please! Please don’t, please don’t hurt them–”
Abandoning his knife, he drops to a crouch in front of you, “We’re gonna make it right, and then we’ll go home, okay? We’ll take care of it.”
“Please, Tooru! I’ll do anything!”
There’s a kiss pressed to the crown of your head, the cushion behind your back being tugged free. “You don’t need to do anything,” Iwa says, the cold cocking of his gun echoing like a death knell.
hi i love ur writing !! can i request a hc for atsumu, oikawa, and iwaizumi seeing their cheerleader crush for the first time in their outfit, cheering them on a match while the team decides to tease them ??? sorry if it doesn’t make sense :( have a great day <3
i LOVE these types of requests hehe
Atsumu, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi seeing their cheerleader crush
Atsumu
when Atsumu spotted the cheer team walking in while his team was warming up, he was just about to combust
Suna had been talking to the setter, so when he noticed Atsumu lose his words, he started snapping his fingers in front of Atsumu’s eyes
“’Tsumu, you there??”
Atsumu blinked and looked back at suna, “huh? oh yeah sorry got distracted for a second”
Suna, being as observant as ever, noticed the blush forming on Atsumu’s face and turned around just to see what he had been looking at
and then Suna noticed you, wearing your little cheerleading uniform, looking as pretty as ever
“oh hey look- it’s Y/n” he says out loud to the whole team
everyone pretty much knows how much Atsumu likes you, so obviously they wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him
since you were well acquainted with the team already, it didn’t freak you out when Akagi called out your name and waved you over
you bounced over to the team and with your waved to the team, pompoms still in your hands, “hi guys!! good luck today!!”
“cute”, was what everyone on the team was thinking- yes at the same time don’t question it
because Atsumu was already a smug individual, the only way to tease him was to make him jealous
with that in mind, Suna wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “you look really cute in your outfit Y/n” he gave Atsumu a smirk, noticing how the setter suddenly got tense at his words
however, you thought nothing about Suna’s actions and smiled at him, “aw thank you Suna, I was a bit worried the skirt was too short”
“it IS too short to be around these foxes” Atsumu thought to himself
Akagi even joined in with the teasing, “nope, it’s the perfect length!!” and gave you a wink, flustering you
Atsumu’s eyes widened at the libero. his own sweet senior, doing something as cruel as this. he couldn’t believe it
his frustrations seemed to only grow with each flirty compliment given to you. but he knew that saying something might be going out of line so he did his best to remain calm. that is- until Osamu decided to step in
the gray haired twin ruffled your hair, messing up your neat ponytail. he glanced at the team, who gave him a collective nod, and stared right into his twin’s eyes, “I dunno Y/n... could be shorter”
without thinking, Atsumu grabbed your hand and dragged you away to the sidelines, away from his team- all of whom he had deemed traitors
his teammates, proud of the work they had done to set him over the edge, waved at you as you were being pulled away
except for Kita and Aran- they just kinda sighed and shrugged
now alone-ish, Atsumu undid your messy ponytail and began to silently brush your hair with his fingers
you glanced back to look at him, only to be scolded for moving. but the look he had on his face was worth it
he was blushing and definitely jealous
it was tempting to push his buttons more, but he was your friend also crush, so you continued to stay silent as he went on to retie your hair
unfortunately for him, he was hoping you’d speak up and make light conversation, as there was something about the silence that made him even more nervous
when he finished, you decided one little jab couldn’t hurt him. you turned to thank him for doing your hair
“thanks ‘Tsumu!! you know, if you want the guys to stop being so flirty, you better ask me out soon”
you gave him a quick peck on a cheek before running off to rejoin your team
Atsumu stood their for a few minutes, mouth open in shock before the team had to call him over to do warm ups
never had he been so excited for a game to be over with already
Oikawa
the team was doing their warm-ups, and Oikawa was intimidating the other team with his serves
he was so blinded by the praises his fans were giving him that he didn’t notice Seijoh’s cheerleading team enter
“oh look, it’s Y/n!!” Makki points at you. hearing your name causes Oikawa to mess up his serve
Oikawa glances at you from afar- you were sitting with the rest of the cheer team on the bleachers, fortunately you didn’t see him mess up
Mattsun waves to catch your attention and motions you over- you were friendly with the whole team, but the third years specifically were your good friends
speaking of- only the third years knew about Oikawa’s little crush on you
this doesn’t stop Makki and Mattsun from messing with you in front of their captain
you greet the team and instantly Mattsun begins wreaking havoc
“oi Y/n, you’re outfit is giving the first and second years nose bleeds” he laughed, and smirked at the captain
his remark caused you to instinctively pull your short skirt down a bit, but that action only drew more attention to your exposed legs
Oikawa grew flustered, so he grabbed his jacket and handed it to you
“here Y/n-chan, you can cover your lap with this when you sit down” he murmured
you freaked out just a bit, not because of Oikawa, well sort of. you were always cautious of how you acted around him. despite liking him, you knew that his fangirls were sometimes atrocious, so you did your best to be seen as a platonic friend
when Yahaba noticed your hesitation to take the jacket, he swooped in to further provoke the captain and also flirt with you
he slid his arm around your waist, pushing the jacket away, “sorry Oikawa-san, it looks like Y/n doesn’t want your jacket~”
noticing how red and upset Oikawa was getting, even Kyotani decided to provoke further
he coughed once, and wrapped his own jacket around your shoulders, “you can take mine”
this has Makki and Mattsun in tears as they watched the second years push oikawa’s buttons
Oikawa couldn’t say anything to stop his team without looking jealous over someone he wasn’t even dating
he hated how they openly flirted with you like this, but he was even more upset you didn’t take his jacket heart been broke so many times
Iwaizumi spoke up next, and Oikawa was dreading what his best friend would do
when Iwaizumi noticed the setter already sulking, he rolled his eyes- how could someone be this dramatic
“hey Y/n, who are you going to cheer loudest for?” he asked. and with that, Oikawa turned around to walk away, not wanting to hear your answer
without thinking you answered, “obviously for Tooru”
you quickly covered your mouth in shock as you watch Oikawa turn around with a smug grin on his face
“well I guess you won’t be needing this then!” he said, removing Kyotani’s jacket off of your shoulders
you couldn’t hide your blush, so you quickly excused yourself and ran back to your team
Oikawa’s eyes lingered on you before turning back to his team as if nothing had happened, “alright, let’s win today!!”
the team blinked in disbelief at their captain’s quick change of mood
as if on cue, they all turned around and walked away from him
“you’re the actual worst Shittykawa”
Iwaizumi
the team was just finishing their warm-ups when your cheer team entered the gym
oikawa was the first to notice
“yahoooo~ hi Y/n-chan!!” he yelled from afar
Iwaizumi’s ears perked up and he made eye contact with you and gave a shy wave
Oikawa beckoned you to come over, but you apologetically declined, motioning how your team needed to stretch
“ah what a shame- I bet Iwa-chan wanted to see Y/n-chan’s uniform up close” Oikawa sighed, earning a laugh from the 2nd and 3rd years
the 1st years don’t even dare laugh at Iwaizumi
Iwaizumi is starting to sport the cutest blush on his face because he’s never seen you in your uniform before. it fit you nicely and your pompoms made you even more adorable
noticing Iwa’s flustered reaction, Makki and Mattsun decided to get involved
Makki called out your name, startling you. you turned around, confused, but still you wave to him and raised your eyebrows quizzically
“Y/N, IWAIZUMI LIKES YOUR OUTFIT!! ITS VERY 👌👌👌” he shouted, causing your eyes to widen and a blush to form on your face
Iwaizumi turned to Makki in shock, “what the fu-”
“tell Iwaizumi I said thank you and that I like his outfit too~” you shout back. sure, it was kind of embarrassing to be yelling these things in the gym, but Iwa’s reaction was too cute to pass up
Mattsun took it a step further by motioning you to do a little twirl
“oi Matsukawa, you’re being too much now....” Iwaizumi’s words trailed away when he saw you actually twirling around playfully
you only stopped because your coach called for the whole cheer team to gather, but before you joined the rest of the team, you blew a kiss to Iwaizumi before giving him a thumbs up
he swears he sees you mouth the words “good luck”
and that’s what threw him over the edge
Iwaizumi squatted down and buried his face into his hands. he felt his heart racing; you were going to be the death of him
the entire time he was squatting, his mind was racing with questions regarding your actions
why did she say she liked my outfit? why did she twirl? why did she blow a kiss?? was all he could think about
“do you think he’s broken” he heard Kindaichi whisper to Kunimi
“poke him with a stick to find out”
when coach Irihata called the team over, Iwaizumi slowly got up without a word
his head was hanging while he walked, but when he reached the coach he lifted his head to reveal that his face was redder than a tomato
“Iwaizumi, are you alright? do you need to sit out this match?”
Iwaizumi furiously shook his head, “no-no, uh I-” but before he could finish his rambles, oikawa interrupted
“coach!! don’t worry I can fix Iwa-chan!!” and with sly eyes he threw one arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulder
“hey. if you don’t get it together, I'm going to ask Y/n-chan out, okay~”
the team went silent, and before iwaizumi could break oikawa’s other knee, the ref blew his whistle, indicating that they needed to get on the court
as you could have guessed, Iwaizumi played extremely well, especially when he heard you cheer loudly for only him
hi can i request for a suna, atsumu, osamu and iwa with a short gf who they like to tease and one day she decides to pretend to get offended and ignore them, thank youu
: ) feeling rly privileged bc i have never been teased for my height
Suna, Atsumu, Osamu, and Iwaizumi being ignored by their short gf
Suna
ugh dumb middle blockers and their darn heights
Suna adores you, but that won’t stop him from messing with you and your how small you are
you have to tip-toe to kiss your dumb boyfriend and he will never not chuckle at that
but one day you ask him if he can lean down for once instead of forcing you to make up for the height gap
and he just goes “no❤️”
you’re about to shrug it off but he adds one more snarky comment to annoy you further, “I was thinking of getting you stilts for your birthday so you don’t have to reach so far for a kiss”
when Suna sees the pout on your face, he chuckles and leans down to give you a kiss
at the last moment, you swerve out of his way. you were going to be petty and pretend to be irritated, so you walk away from him and head towards class alone
when Suna comes walking in after you, Osamu does a double take
“woah, something happen with Y/n?”
Suna sits in his seat and sinks into his chair, “nah I think she’s just pretending to be upset with me because I keep calling her short”
“maybe you should stop calling her that??”
Suna glances over at you- and when you make eye contact with him, he notices your gaze softens for a split second. but when you realize you’re supposed to ignore him, your eyes glare at him and you quickly turn your head away
he bites his lip to hold back his laughter, “nah, she’s so cute when I mess with her”
tbh your boyfriend is a super good middle blocker, of course he can read people easily. not sure why you thought you’d fool him with this bit- but it’s too late to go back so you have to keep pretending that you’re upset
but because Suna knows about your scheme, he doesn’t react in the way you’d hope he would. he doesn’t come crawling back apologizing, in fact it seems like he’s ignoring you too
the whole ignoring each other bit was fun and games, but you didn’t realize how it affected other people
see aside from your close friends, no one else knew you two were messing with each other
this was really evident after school, when a guy from another class approached you when you exited the school building
he slung his arm around you, “hey Y/n. I heard you’re not with Suna anymore” upon hearing that, your eyes widen and you slowly remove the guy’s arm off of you as you turn to face him
“wait- what? where did that even come from”
the guy- you didn’t even know his name- ignored your question and kept talking, “you’re too cute for a jerk like him. anyways, if you’re free this weekend we should go on a date”
no but see Suna was just like a few feet away and witnessed this whole ordeal. before you could politely reject the guy, Suna inserts himself into the conversation-quite literally
like he actually stands in between you two, but he’s facing you, so all the other guy can see is Suna’s back
Suna leans down and gives you a kiss before asking, “now will you stop ignoring me?”
you sheepishly nod as Suna holds your hand. the two of you walk away from the confused boy who tried to hit on you rip him
when you looked at your boyfriend you noticed his cheeks were slightly pink, and so of course you were going to tease him about it
“oh? were you jealous when that guy asked me out”
“...” his silence was deafening and you start laughing
“you WERE jealous!! you’re so cute Rintarou~” you coo at him, poking his cheek
Suna was about to comeback with some snarky comment, but seeing you all playful and happy made his heart soft
he decided to save his teasing for another day
Atsumu
tHIS PUNK will never let you live
he’d purposefully lean down and put his hands on his knees when you talk to him, claiming that he wants to ‘see the world from your point of view’
you have to restrain yourself from kicking his ass
one day during lunch, you were joined by your boyfriend, his twin, and Suna
Atsumu placed two milk cartons in front of you and grinned. you stared at him confused, “what’s this for ‘Tsumu?”
“they’re for you! I'm trying to help you grow taller!!”
you rolled your eyes and decided that you would mess with him today and pretend like you were extremely annoyed with his jokes
Atsumu was too busy laughing to notice how your face became expressionless
so, you turn away from your boyfriend and talk to Osamu and Suna instead
the conversation between the four of you proceeds normally, except you never respond back to Atsumu- and it didn’t take him long to notice this
“mm, I forgot to ask, but when is the next practice match?”
Atsumu grabs your hand and answers, “there’s one this Thursday, are you coming babe?”
but you don’t respond to him, instead you look at Suna and Osamu expectantly
Osamu sighs before answering, “yeah it’s this Thursday”
you remove your hand from atsumu’s and clap your hands together, “ah great! I'll try my best to stop by!”
Suna raises an eyebrow at Atsumu, who stares at you aghast
he tries to nuzzle your neck, “babe I just said that, weren’t ya listening?”
you give him no response- it was as if he wasn’t even there
standing up, you pack your lunch and grab your bag, “well, I'm going to go to the office real quick and talk to the counselor before lunch ends. see you two later!!” and you walk off towards the main office
Atsumu looks back and forth between your walking figure and his friends
“what the heck was that about? why did she ignore me”
“because you kept making fun of her for her height dumbass” Suna said, not bothering to look up from his food
the setter blinked twice before realizing his mistake, and ran off to catch up to you
you were nearing the counselor’s door when you hear Atsumu call out your name
but before you got the chance to go inside, atsumu had caught up with you and had you caged between him and the wall
the look on his face was one of pure panic, and you realized that maybe you had gone a bit too far
“’Tsumu-” you couldn’t finish your sentence because you were interrupted
“Y/n, I'm really sorry that I kept teasing you for how small you are. I think your height makes you even cuter and I’m sorry that I took the joke too far”
you bring up your hands to your face to hold back your giggles- your boyfriend is too cute
taking a deep breath, you lower your hands to look him in the eyes
“I wasn’t actually mad at you... I just ignored you to mess with you. it was really cute to see you all confused”
Atsumu’s face dropped- he felt b e t r a y e d
he leaned in closer to your face, “oh? you thought that it would be funny, huh?” his sudden proximity in a public space caused you to squeal loudly
in an instant, the door swung open, and the school counselor poked her head out, “what’s going on here?”
you quickly pushed Atsumu away from you, “it’s nothing!! he’s just bullying me. oh! but I do have a quick question about this form I filled out”
you and the counselor went to her office to discuss your matters, leaving Atsumu alone
when he finally registered what you had said, he felt the need to enter the office to clear his name up
“wait- nO miss counselor Y/n is lying!! I wasn’t bullying her!”
Osamu
you’d think he would be less annoying than his brother
but no, he’s equally annoying in different ways
he loves to tease your small stature all the time
anyways, you and the twins have always lived near each other, so it was only natural for the three of you to walk to school together
one morning you were just t i r e d. like zero energy
so your wonderful boyfriend gives you a piggy back ride so you can nap a bit
when you reach the school gates, he sets you down
“you’ve probably never seen things from that height before” he and his brother laugh at the joke
but you, having just woken up from your nice nap, remain stoic
the joke didn’t offend you in the slightest, but you had no energy to react to it so you just nodded silently and walked to class
but it did give you the idea to pretend you were upset with him
Osamu’s laughter ceased when he noticed you remained unbothered
“Y/n?” he asks, but when he’s left unanswered he starts to get a bit worried
throughout class, you don’t acknowledge him in the slightest. it was kinda easy to ignore him since your desk was far away, but you it was almost as if you could feel his gaze on you
“psst, Osamu. what happened with Y/n?” Suna leans forward to ask the gray haired twin
“she’s upset with me”
“yeah no shit, dude” Suna slaps the back of Osamu’s head and scoffs
Osamu frowned, he wasn’t entirely sure what caused your sudden indifference in him
you didn’t sit with the trio during lunch
“you still didn’t figure out why she’s not speaking with you?” Suna asks
“nope”
Atsumu looks up from his lunch and speaks, mouth still full, “are you dumb? it’s because you made fun of how short she was today. the moment you made that joke, Y/n went all quiet. c’mon ‘Samu”
Osamu didn’t know why he was unable to connect the pieces, but now he had the answer in front of him
he left Atsumu and Suna to look for you. you weren’t sitting with your own friends- but one of them had tipped off that you were probably back in the classroom
as he walked towards the classroom, Osamu was drafting an apology for you. upon entering the class, he saw you asleep on your desk
he walked up to you, careful not to make any noise and squatted by your desk
Osamu began brushing the hair out of your face, but his sudden touch stirred you out of your nap and startled you
you sat up, and with wide eyes you looked at your boyfriend. after your nice nap, you were better rested now than you had been in the morning
before you could speak, osamu embraces you in a hug and buries his head into your shoulder
“sorry” he mumbles, “I didn’t mean to upset you when I joked about you being short”
you hug him back, “you’re so cute ‘Samu. I wasn’t mad at you, just really tired today. sorry I ignored you”
Osamu lifts his head to give you a small kiss before offering to give you a piggy back ride to the lunch table for food, and of course you agreed
you decided to not tell him immediately about your little prank, but you didn’t want to spoil the moment
also there’s the possibility that he could drop you, so maybe hold off from telling him
Iwaizumi
umm literally he’s the shortest of the Seijoh third years why do you let him bully you like this
he’ll never say this, but he loves that you’re so small because then he feels taller HAHA Iwa you’re 5′10 that’s already tall
one weekend while hanging out with the other third years, you and your boyfriend are assigned the task of buying snacks for your group’s movie night
at the convenience store, the two of you split paths to cover more ground in less time
however, you’re struggling to reach one particular bag of chips that’s on a higher shelf
(btw the reason why it’s out of reach is bc it’s not a popular brand, but of course Oikawa loves it so you have to get it)
even on your tip-toes, you’re unable to reach it
that’s when you sense your boyfriend behind you, reaching the bag and adding it to his basket
“ah! thanks babe!!” you say, grinning at him. but you notice he’s trying to suppress a laugh
“pfft. you’re so small, i should just buy you one of those claw grabbers”
Iwaizumi watched your smiling face fall into a pout and he gets confused
you’ve never elicited this sort of reaction before
“whatever Iwaizumi” you retort, turning around and walking out of the convenience store by yourself
Iwaizumi’s eyes widen- you hardly ever used his last name when referring to him
while waiting in line at the register he ran through all the other times he’s teased you and how you never said a thing
were you just internalizing it all? how come he never noticed that you didn’t like these sorts of jokes
once he finally paid for everything, he hastily ran outside to look for you
there you were, surrounded by a group of boys
and when I say boys- I mean like middle school boys
the tallest of the bunch grabbed your wrist, “you’re really cute, what school do you go to?”
speaking of you, you literally wanted the earth to swallow you whole. you got mistaken for a middle schooler. you were being hit on by boys younger than you
the worst part was that they were stronger than you and you couldn’t break free. you were literally the same height as their leader why is this happening
this was really embarrassing
“what’s wrong, are you shy or someth-” the leader of the boys stop when he sees Iwaizumi standing behind you
he smiles at the boys and answers, “we’re third years at Aoba Johsai”
the middle school boys whisper amongst themselves
“holy shit- I've seen him play volleyball. he’s the ace!!”
“dude look at his arms they’re HUGE”
the leader of the boys quickly releases your wrist and bows apologetically to you, “I'm very sorry senpai!” and with that, he and the rest of his squad scurried away
Iwaizumi didn’t know whether or not he should laugh at the situation
but what he didn’t expect was for you to hug him, burying your face into his chest
“oh, so you’re not mad at me anymore?”
“I was never mad you idiot- I was pretending to be upset at you. but look where that got me” you mutter
Iwaizumi cups your face and kisses your forehead, “well, for what it’s worth- you’re a stellar actress. let’s head back now, the others are probably waiting for us”
you make him pinky promise that he doesn’t tell Oikawa what happened
“ The insatiable greed of Sugawara-sensei. ”
Sugawara-sensei threatens to hold his favorite student back a year.
warnings: teacher/student, non-con, coercion, cunni touching, blackmail, critique of writing, third year student, solo. please be cautious.
Flowers are hideous, greedy beings. They bask all day underneath the warm spring sun, soil warm with the heat and fertile to grow. When there’s water from the rain it lets it seep into the earth like blood vessels in a body, drinking up the sickly-sweet treacle that the gray sky has to offer. And maybe worst of all, when the earth can no longer give or nourish those flowers, they give nothing back but flourish on into their own selves, withering away and leaving nothing behind but a testimony of beauty.
There’s some sort of deep-seated heinous hypocrisy that lives within Sugawara though, beneath the bilious saccharine façade that he keeps up, one that recognizes the truth in him being inherently just as greedy as the flowers. The little droplets of treacle that you give Sugawara will never be enough though, never enough to satiate the feral hunger that lives within him for something rotten and odious like you.
hi hello i have a fluffy req ft. oikawa 😳😳 spare headcanons pls where he and reader are a new couple 😴🤲🏻
omg yesyes of course!! thank u for requesting<33
oikawa and his s/o are a new couple.
OKAY SO you and kawa are dating and y’all are about three weeks in
by this time yall are holding hands in public and going out to convenience stores after school when hes free
or yknow how kawa stays at school to practise his serves cus hes such a hardworking bby that sometimes forgets to eat dinner ??
yeah so when you find out your mans is still dripping in sweat at 7pm you obviously march your way to the convenience store to buy him some food and water
you also like to buy extras just in case iwaizumi is still hanging around cus you also feel bad for the dude
oikawa also began clinging onto you during breaks and lunches, its his way of showing everyone that you’re his
like he does this so often that you don’t even bother to check who it is cus you already know its oikawa
“yeah dude i totally prefer-” then you’ll feel oikawa’s arms wrap around your shoulders, naturally catching his hand to hold
your friends love the dynamic you two have LMAO
sometimes he just cuddles his face into your neck, you still need some time to get used to this (depending on how comfy you are with physical touch)
if you’re still not used to it, it gets you flustered because you can feel his warm exhales on your neck and its just 🥴
if you’re used to it already, you’ll run your hands through his hair, hearing him sigh (dude its the cutest shit ever tf)
its almost like hes a cat
wait no-
n e ways
pros of dating oikawa: only you get to touch his hair and its so fucking soft
but obvi this rule doesn’t apply to iwa, makki and mattsun like those dudes will put him in a headlock and mess his hair up anytime anywhere
both of you also began to match up your outfits during dates as well
oikawa brought this up, like he was scrolling through a socmed platform (ig, twitter, whatever ya like) and hes looking through couplewear and his eyes literally sparkle
he definitely shares these clothing accounts to you through dm and goes “👀” then you’ll scroll through the account to see what they offer
“y/n-chan, we’re wearing these tomorrow” and with the message is a photo of the bright blue sweater that could pass as an official school uniform
and you’re like “what”
and hes like “i better see you wear it tomorrow 👀”
and the next day, you come to school wearing that bright blue sweater and oikawa is ecstatic when you arrive at school
he immediately calls iwaizumi to help him take photos of you and sometimes you pretend to not want to take photos just so you can see him pout
hes cute okay 🤕
iwaizumi is always the victim when it comes to taking photos of you and oikawa like hes always there to help out 💀💀
“HURRY UP SHITTYKAWA NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR HAIR”
“SORRY THAT I CARE ABOUT MY HAIR, YOURS LOOKS LIKE A CACTUS, IWA-CHAN”
you’re kinda just in the middle of these idiots like 🧍🧍
you also have to refrain iwa from hurling your mans into space because with those guns of his..... he literally could
home dates also happen when both of you use up all your weekly allownaces 💀
smh oikawa prolly spent it all on his hair products and skincare
Haikyuu Headquarters is coming back at you with another NSFW server collab!!
Our 18+ server members were given the following prompt and after picking their characters are given the task of writing a fic based on it. They’re allowed to do whatever they like with the fic as long as the prompt is included!
The prompt: I told you to stay still.
Masterlist status: Inactive
When does this masterlist go live?: Tuesday 6th October 11:30pm
Previous collabs
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Akaashi - @rocorambles
Asahi - @kingnyx
Atsumu - @atsumuse
Bokuto - @miki-snake
Daichi - @miri-hoe
Hanamaki - @saetyrn9
Iwaizumi - @retrouveille
Kenma - @just-the-mouse
Kunimi - @sempiternal-amour
Kuroo - @tetsurouskuro (may be late because life)
Kyoutani - @deathcab4daddy
Mattsun - @multifandhoem
Nishinoya - @dove-music
Osamu - @hqbbg
Sakusa - @joyousandverywarlike
Sugawara - @midnightmilkteas
Tendou - @soft-for-shoyo
Terushima - @candychronicles
Tsukishima - @dymphnasprose
Ukai - @vixen-scribbles (may be late because life)
Ushijima - @pleasantanathema
Yaku - @des-the-girl
❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀
You guys are about to be FED!!!
Don’t forget to like/reblog to bookmark!!!
If you’re interested in becoming a member of the server, you can check out this post
Iwaizumi Hajime wants all your firsts. And you’re happy to give him all of them.
warnings: thigh riding, fem!reader
Iwaizumi Hajime has been your boyfriend for a few months and everything has felt like a dream. Iwa was everything a man should be and more. He was kind. Holding doors open for you in the crowded halls trying to quickly usher you to your next class. He was strong. Hoisting you into the air, spinning you around like you were main characters in a romance movie. He was funny. Re-enacting Oikawa’s stupid phrases while you tried not to spit water all over the table. He was handsome. Soft dark hair and gorgeous dark eyes looked down at you flashing a rare smile.
You liked him. Like a whole fucking lot, you might even be in love. But there was that one thing about him, that you always thought about late at night when it was just you and your fingers. Accompanied by lewd thoughts of your boyfriend. He was greedy.
The Haikyuu Headquarters discord server is coming back at you with another SFW server collab!!
Our writers were given the prompt below and asked to write a fic based on it!
This weeks prompt: Autumn/Fall
When will this masterlist go live?: Tuesday 29th September @ 11:30pm U.K time (this is when all of the links will be added. Like/reblog to bookmark.)
Masterlist of collabs
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Akaashi - @just-the-mouse
Atsumu - @keiyoomi
Bokuto - @bakugou-jpg
Ennoshita - @feathertayyl
Kageyama - @soft-for-shoyo
Kenma - @briswriting
Kita - @hqbbg
Kiyoko - @kzumeknma
Kuroo - @deathcab4daddy
Kyoutani - @rocorambles
Oikawa - @retrouveille
Sakusa - @midnightmilkteas
Suga - @dokidokielle
Suna - @spamusubis
Tanaka - @candychronicles
Tendou - @dymphnasprose
Ukai - @nicka-nell
Ushijima - @inaflashimagine
Yamaguchi - @euphylli
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Any links that aren’t live from the time stated means that the user is late handing their fic in or they’ve dropped out. (I will try to alter it as i find out!!)
If you’re interested in joining the server, you can find the invite post here
