#aobajohsai

[mantareidraws]

Training camp arc, seijoh edition 🌱🏐🌱

A print I made for @hqteamzines!! Still really happy with how this piece turned out~~ 💙

[kuroos-left-testicle]

Oikawa: Do you think I'm a sunrise or a sunset?

Iwaizumi: You're a category 5 hurricane.

[emlovesredbull]

favors- t. oikawa

0.6 - girlfriend?

*characters are 18+ unless stated otherwise

at the beginning of your exchange year in japan (from america), you join the aoba johsai girl's volleyball team. nationally ranked in america, you're armed with unique tricks and techniques from your club team back home, which quickly captures the attention of the boy's team captain. he begins asking for favors, which ends up bringing you two closer than either could have expected...

tags: oikawa toru x reader, friends to lovers, slow burn, fake dating, player x player, exchangestudent!reader, high school au, swearing, probably some ooc, written, romance

tw: swearing, use of daddy (as a joke guys i'm not freaky like that tdy) also the pic is just like inspo of what it was its not actually supposed to be you

status: in progress (slower updates bc longer chapters + finals)

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"excuse me, what?" your jaw nearly hit the floor. you were too shocked by his words to think clearly. of all the favors he could have asked for, he asked you out?

"you heard me. be my girlfriend," he smirked, doubling down on his answer. he leaned confidently against the booth behind him, waiting patiently for the answer. looking at your confused (and moderatly horrified expression) he added, "it'll help scare off the stalker."

oh. you let out a deep breath, logically connecting everything. right. his fake girlfriend. you felt like if he had included the word fake it would have eliminated a lot of your confusion. at the same time, you almost felt stupid for jumping to that conclusion.

you thought about it. sure, you were friends and you didn't want him to live in fear of his fangirls. out of anyone, it made the most sense for you to be his fake girlfriend. you had spent a lot of time with him recently, after all. at the same time, though, this arrangement didn't exactly benefit you. you'd probably set off some crazy girls.

"please," he pouted, sticking out a bottom lip. oikawa could sense your hesitation from across the table. he knew that you were the only believable option for his friends and teammates. if he was going to have a fake girlfriend, there were going to be zero holes in the story. "you don't have to do anything super touchy or anything, just like pretend at school. plus you're already coming to our games to analyze us, so you wouldn't have to go anywhere you aren't already. plus i'll treat you super well!"

you weighed it over in your head. you did leave after this year anyways, so you really didn't need guys trying to start an actual relationship with you. if you set rules, this would be fine. plus it would let you focus on volleyball and your studies. plus you could probably manage to get a couple free meals out of it.

you looked him dead in his chocolate brown eyes, serious. he waited, expectantly, but letting you take your time. "deal. but i'm not doing this without any rules."

he grinned cockily, but a flicker of relief passed through his face. he leaned on to his hands. "rule number one, don't fall in love with me too much."

you groan, resisting the urge to hit him. "oh, shut up oikawa. i meant like don't kiss me on the lips in public. anywhere else is fair game, and i'm fine with most physical touch."

"first off, it's toru, we're dating. and secondly, does that mean i can kiss you in private?" he joked. your cheeks flushed slightly. god. what had you agreed to? this time you did hit him. softly, on his shoulder. he pouted, claiming that you had been dating for five seconds and you were already abusing him.

"you know what i meant." you frowned, cheeks still pink. your arms were secured firmly across your chest. the remains of the mousse cake in front of you had been forgotten.

you could tell oikawa was the type to be clingy in a relationship. he thrived off of attention in general, so naturally he would want to be touching his partner a lot. in order for his stalker to knock it off, it would need to be believable.

"jeez, ok." he thought for a moment. "we can't tell anyone. like literally anyone. it's for safety after all."

you nodded, accepting that. you knew you would tell sophie, though, because that girl couldn't tell anyone here if she tried. plus you would probably go insane if you had to keep everything to yourself.

"obviously neither of us can date or flirt with other people then," you listed, logically. oikawa nodded, brown hair flopping up and down. "i think that's a good amount of baseline rules."

"we need a story," he thought out loud. you blinked in suprise. a story? couldn't you just use your actual life for this?

"don't you think we have enough of a story?" you motioned between the two of them. it would be perfectly believable already.

"i guess," oikawa shrugged. he had wanted some unreal story filled with romance, but sticking close to the truth was probably easier for both of you to remember. "so we started dating today and i asked you at a super fancy restaurant."

he reached his hand across the table, and you shook it. sealing the agreement. and your doom.

—

"i think we should start with a soft launch," toru suggested on the walk back to the car. he was already scouring pinterest for ideas, but you hadn't noticed. you were freezing. your hoodie had been forgotten at home, leaving you in a tank top that was not suitable for the weather.

you were so used to the weather back home that you couldn't help but shiver at the cold and harsh winds of a japanese fall. you hoped toru wouldn't notice how tight your hands clutched around your bare arms.

you tried to focus on his words. they seemed to make enough sense to you, so you just nodded in agreement. he didn't want to unexpectedly pop out with a girlfriend so if you soft launched the relationship on social media first, people would expect him to have a girlfriend of sorts.

"is my lovely fake girlfriend feeling a little chilly?" the brunette boy observed. fuck. he pointed at the goosebumps running along your arms. you shot him a glare, not bothering to respond out of the fear your teeth would chatter. "don't worry, i'll save you."

toru grinned, flashing her his annoyingly white teeth. he began to take off the navy blue sweatshirt he had on. during the process, he accidentally pulled his t-shirt up with the hoodie, exposing his toned abdomen. you couldn't help but look, quickly diverting your eyes after he managed to get it over his head. he held it out to you.

"i don't need a handout," you frowned, not taking toru's peace offering. he groaned, cursing that he chose the most stubborn girl in the universe to fake date. your body betrayed your words, shivering slightly.

"yeah, but you want it," he teased, waving the dark fabric in front of your face. fuck, you did want it. it was freezing. you rolled her eyes at him. "if you don't take my sweatshirt i'm just gonna have to warm you up with a hug."

"if i take it will you shut up?" you only halfway-joked, having enough of toru's antics. he nodded, and you grabbed it from his arms, slipping the fabric over your head.

it was soft, smelling faintly of some cologne that oikawa always wears. you weren't neccisarily swimming in the fabric, but the sleeves extended past your fingertips loosely, giving it an oversized fit. now that you were shielded from the harsh winds, you could actually focus on the task at hand.

"so how are we soft launching?" you asked, pulling up your own pinterest for ideas. before you could even finish typing soft launch in the search bar, toru had shoved his own pinterest board filled with ideas in your face.

of course this guy used pinterest. your eyes scanned over pictures of a girl hiding her face with flowers, hand holding, kisses from behind, and even more simply, a girls shoes inside of a man's.

you pointed at the last one, "i like this one, it's simple." he looked over your shoulder, studying the picture, grinning evilly. he pointed to the picture next to it, a girl kissing the cheek of her boyfriend, but everything except their lips and below was cropped out.

"well i like that one," he said. you turned your head to glare at him. of course he picks that. you were already regretting agreeing to this. he pouted at your reaction, pleading that it was just a little kiss on the cheek.

"fine. mine first though," you gave in with a long sigh.

you found a wooden bench nearby, outside one of the stores. oikawa wasted no time in sitting down first, motioning for you to come sit on his lap jokingly.

he patted his thigh once more. "come to daddy," he teased. you gave him another glare. one that sent chills down his spine. "jeez, tough crowd."

"i hate you and i hope you know that," you groaned, sitting down between his spread legs. you felt like setting on his lap was a bit much. you sat on the very edge of the bench instead, trying to preserve as much personal space as possible.

toru was grateful that you couldn't see his face because jesus christ, it was burning. you were busied, trying to match up the tips of your shoes perfectly. you hadn't even thought about the fact that your thighs were pressed up against his jeans. toru was praying that his dick would behave for this photo.

"aw look, we even have the same shoes, just different colors," he pointed at his black adidas and your white ones, trying to distract himself from how close you are. he could smell your shampoo, your perfume, and everything.

"how cute," you deadpanned, finally settling on a foot placement. for a few moments, it was silent, save for the small taps of your fingers against your photo button.

once you had snapped the perfect photo, you began to stand up. that idea was quickly shut down by a pair of hands against your thighs pulling you back down. this time, it was on to the outside of his own leg. you were now side by side on the bench, shoulders brushing as you side-eyed him.

"where do you think you're going? we have to take my photo," toru demanded, leaning in to talk to you once you had sat back down on the bench. his breath tickled your face, reminding you of your close proximity. you sighed, muttering agreement.

he pulled out his camera, pointing it towards the two of you. he leaned in, waiting. you closed your eyes, because if you didn't see it happen, you could deny it.

your soft, slightly glossy lips pressed against toru's cheek gently. you held them there for a few seconds, giving him time to take the picture. he was distracted. who wouldn't be when a pretty girl was kissing your cheek? when you pulled away and opened your eyes, he sheepishly had to admit that he hadn't pressed the photo button.

"are you joking?" you threatened, cursing whatever kind of sick joke the universe had decided to play on you. when he shook his head and showed you his most recent photos, you sighed. you leaned back in, making sure that your eyes remained open. you were planning on making sure the photo actually got taken this time. —

— when you had returned home, you rushed into niomi's room. you were planning on keeping your promise of not telling niomi that the relationship was fake, but you knew your cousin would be hurt if you didn't tell her about it at all.

niomi looked up from her computer, pausing the movie she was watching off of netflix. she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear, motioning you into the room. her dark eyes scanned over you as you sat on her pink fuzzy rug, picking at the strands gently.

"when'd you get that sweatshirt?" niomi raised an eyebrow, pointing at the navy hoodie that you had completely forgotten about. you looked down, realizing. damn you, oikawa. "and who was that boy on your instagram story?"

"so," you started, taking a deep breath. niomi noticed your nerves, realizing that whatever you had to say was important. plus she was always down for the gossip. "i may or may not be dating toru."

"was that who picked you up?" the dark haired girl squealed, practically jumping off of her chair to wrap you into a big hug. you nodded, trying to keep things lowkey. niomi pulled back momentarily, "so, that's his sweatshirt?" you gave another swift nod. niomi squeezed you harder, rocking your shoulders back and forth.

leave it to niomi to be more excited about you dating oikawa than you were. maybe because it was cool to have your cousin be dating the most popular guy at school. even if niomi didn't know it was fake. or maybe because she was genuinely happy for you to finally find a man up to your high standards.

niomi had been begging for an insight into your love life for years, but you didn't have much to tell besides occasional makeouts at the house parties your team threw. your boyfriends had never lasted more than three months because you got bored of them too quickly or they were clinically insane.

oikawa toru was neither boring, nor insane. or at least, you two could only hope.

"you have to tell me everything," niomi exclaimed, finally relasing you. she lay flat on her stomach on the floor. her feet swayed in the air and her head rested in her palms, giving her full attention to you. you sat in front of her, beginning to tell the first version of the story. —

toru: hi girlfriend (?)

toru: as much as i would love to walk or drive you to school tomorrow like a good boyfriend (?), i sadly cannot

toru: BUT...

toru: wait for me after practice and i'll drive you home!

you: what a horrible boyfriend (?)

you: making me walk myself to school and everything

you: see you tomorrow

you: pls pls pls don't make a spectacle

—

you stared at the texts from last night as you walked into your first period, nerves bubbling in your stomach. you knew oikawa was the type to pull some absolutely insane scheme and you did not desire any part in it.

you hadn't seen toru all morning either, which just added fuel to your nerves. either he was ramping up a big suprise or he truly was respecting your wishes of keeping things lowkey. it was probably the first one, who was you kidding?

mattsukawa slid into his seat next to you, letting his bag fall from his shoulders on to the floor next to his desk. he turned to face you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he spoke, "so i heard a little rumor..."

you almost groaned, but remembered that you had agreed to do this. fixing your face to look innocent, you looked back, "oh, about what?"

he gave you a pointed look; 'really?' was written all over his face. you continued playing dumb, though. if mattsukawa wanted information, he was going to use his damn words.

"about you and our captain," he stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. you watched as the ears of a few surrounding individuals perked up. clearly they had also heard whatever oikawa had spread. you grinned. performance time.

"oh, that's not a rumor," you dismissed with your hand, a sly smile on your face. you knew what you were going to say next would quickly spread around. "that's a fact."

"wait, are you saying you're dating oikawa?" a brown haired girl with her hair neatly braided asked from behind you. you had no idea who this girl was. she had never spoken to, or probably even looked at you before.

"oh, i didn't realize you all were listening," you lied, tapping your hand against the desk. it was now or never, come out with it. "but yes, toru's my boyfriend," you stated, plain as day.

the other girl gasped, hands flying to find her phone immediately. her fingers flew across the screen, rapidly texting what you could only assume was her friends. awesome. start spreading the word.

"so he was the boy on your instagram story," mattsukawa grinned, clearly satisfied with your answer. to be honest, he had already known, recognizing your face from the picture oikawa had posted. "i thought i recognized his shoes."

the girls began peppering you with questions. how did you get oikawa to date you? when did you start dating? is he a good kisser? it seemed like they would never shut up, but you tried your best to answer the endless stream of curiosity coming your way.

this was going to be a long day.

a/n: shorter chapter... don't hate me that's just the way the cookie crumbles. this chapter is so funny to me though bc i think i was so sleep deprived when i came up with this entire plot. i have no clue bro. but its only going uphill (or downhill u never know) from here. also i did have an image of y/n's story too but since i originally wrote this as an oc fic, i got lazy and didn't wanna remake it with a username change. canva is my enemy rn so pls enjoy the singular instagram story i felt like feeding u with.

taglist (comment to be added): @staygoldsquatchling02 @x3nafix @charityjoy22 @f2lix @edenandagain @vanillabeanswirltwist

[paroslineage]

Till Death Do Us Part (Literally)

One shot

Featuring : Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader. GORE WARNING.

HAIKYU!! MASTERLIST

The Church bells rang with a harmonious melody.

But that was the exact opposite sound by the expressions of horror and screams of fear.

A murder had taken place, of a beautiful bride on her wedding day.

Taken away from her beloved husband -to- be.

By her so called Childhood Best Friend...

Tooru never believed in auspicious sutff like the groom not being allowed to see the bride before the wedding as it is considered bad omen, in fact he just said screw it and secretly slipped away from the groom's room, from the vigil eyes of Iwaizumi to check on you, his lovely bride.

while walking through the opulent hotel corridor he finally took some seconds and admired the lavish decorations and the intricate wall tapestries high on the ceiling.

amidst walking he felt a dreaded gut feeling of something that had terribly gone wrong, so he quickened his stride towards the bridal room where you were residing temporarily and didn't have the thought of knocking like a decent person would have and barged in with heavy breath and what he saw caused him to freeze in horror.

GORE WARNING AHEAD.

He saw Erika, your childhood bestfriend since you both were in diapers. straddling your hips as she was about to pluge the stolen bloodied cake knife from the hotel kitchen,

as if...

the previous 12 strikes werent enough already.

tooru dared to look at you and he felt his stomach lurch at the sight of you.

the sight of your bloodied neck which had so lovingly kissed the previous night before going to bed.

the one that your childhood best friend resented for having such a long slender neck like a swan.

The world narrowed to a single, impossible point: Erika's raised arm, the knife glinting wet and red under the chandelier light, your white wedding dress no longer pristine but a ruined canvas of crimson blooming outward like grotesque petals. Twelve strikes—Tooru counted them in the sick instant his mind could still form numbers—had turned the elegant bodice into something shredded and obscene, fabric clinging wetly to the deep gashes across your chest and stomach. Blood had pooled beneath you, thick and dark, seeping into the cream carpet in a slow, spreading halo. Your neck… gods, your neck. The long, graceful line he'd traced with his lips only last night was now a ragged mess, the final wound still oozing in sluggish pulses. Your eyes—those eyes that had always sparkled with quiet mischief when you teased him, stared blankly at the him, glassy, empty.

Your white wedding dress—once pristine silk and delicate lace, the very one you'd twirled in for him just hours ago with that shy, radiant smile—was now a grotesque canvas of crimson. The fabric clung wetly to your torso where Erika had driven the blade again and again, tearing through bodice and skin alike. Jagged rents exposed pale flesh turned raw and glistening, the wounds gaping like accusing mouths. Blood had pooled beneath you in thick, dark syrup, soaking into the plush carpet in a widening halo that crept toward Tooru's polished shoes. Your arms lay limp at your sides, fingers still curled as if reaching for something—someone—in your final moments, nails chipped and painted the soft pearl shade you'd chosen together.

Erika's hands were slick to the wrists, the knife trembling in her grip as fresh rivulets ran down the blade and dripped onto your ruined collarbone. Her face was a mask of something feral and broken—eyes wide, mascara streaking black rivers down her cheeks, lips parted in a soundless snarl. Strands of her hair stuck to the drying blood on her cheek like obscene decorations.

She hadn't even noticed him yet.

Tooru's breath came in shallow, ragged bursts. The charming, easy grin that usually curved his lips was gone, replaced by something hollow and glassy. His chocolate-brown eyes—usually sparkling with mischief or sharp calculation—were fixed on the ruin of you, pupils blown wide with shock. His perfect hair, swept back just so, had fallen forward in disarray from the frantic run down the hall.

For one endless second, the world narrowed to the wet rasp of Erika's breathing and the distant, mocking toll of the bells.

Then something inside him cracked.

"You…" His voice came out low, almost conversational lowkey unhinged, the way it did when he was plotting a devastating set on the court. But there was no playfulness now, only a cold, trembling edge. "What… did you do?"

Erika's head snapped up. Recognition flickered through the haze of madness, and for a heartbeat she looked almost like the girl who'd once braided your hair and shared secrets under blankets. Then her expression twisted again—jealousy, rage, triumph all at once.

"She took everything," Erika hissed, voice cracking. "She always took everything. You were supposed to be mine, Tooru. We were supposed to be—"

Tooru didn't let her finish.

He lunged.

Not with the calculated grace of a setter, but with raw, animal fury. His long fingers closed around Erika's wrist—the one holding the knife—and twisted hard. Bone cracked audibly. She screamed, the sound high and shattered, but he didn't stop. He wrenched the blade free, sending it skittering across the floor in a spray of red droplets. Erika clawed at him with her free hand, nails raking bloody furrows down his cheek, but he barely flinched.

He shoved her off you with brutal force. She hit the vanity table hard, mirrors shattering in a glittering cascade around her. Glass sliced into her palms and knees as she scrambled to rise, but Tooru was already there.

He dropped to his knees beside you.

His hands—those clever hands that had once mapped every inch of you with reverence—hovered over the carnage of your chest. Blood soaked through his white dress shirt instantly, warm and sticky, staining the cuffs where he'd rolled them up earlier in casual elegance. He pressed his palms to the worst of the wounds, as if pressure alone could force life back into you.

"Hey… hey, cutie." he whispered, voice fracturing. "Come on. Open your eyes for me. You promised you'd walk down that aisle looking like the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. Don't break your promises now."

Your head lolled slightly toward him. One eye was half-open, glassy and unseeing, the other swollen shut from a brutal blow Erika must have delivered earlier. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of your mouth, staining your lips the color of crushed roses.

Tooru's fingers trembled as he brushed your hair back, smearing red across your forehead. "Iwa-chan's gonna kill me for sneaking in here," he tried to joke, but it came out choked, broken. "He's probably already looking for me. Yelling my name down the hall like always. 'Trashykawa!' Right?"

Nothing.

Your chest didn't rise.

The room was too quiet now. The bells had stopped.

Erika laughed—low, wet, delirious. "She's gone, Tooru. She's finally gone."

He didn't look at her. His gaze stayed locked on your face, memorizing every detail even as it slipped away: the faint freckles across your nose you'd always hated, the tiny scar on your chin from falling off your bike when you were eight, the way your lashes fluttered when you laughed at his stupid jokes.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the fallen knife.

Erika's laughter died.

"Tooru—"

He stood.

Blood dripped from his hands in steady patters. His shirt hung open at the collar, exposing the frantic rise and fall of his chest. The charming mask was gone entirely; what remained was something colder, sharper, more terrifying than any opponent had ever seen on the court.

"You think this fixes anything?" His voice was soft, almost gentle—the same tone he'd used when coaxing you to sleep after a long day. "You think taking her makes me yours?"

He stepped forward.

Erika backed away, slipping in the pooling blood, falling hard onto her back. She stared up at him, eyes wide with sudden fear.

Tooru crouched beside her, knife loose in his grip.

"You were my friend once," he said quietly. "You were her friend. And you destroyed that. For what? Jealousy? Because she had something you wanted?"

He tilted his head, the motion eerily reminiscent of his old teasing smirks, but empty now. Hollow.

"I don't forgive that."

The knife came down once—clean, precise, through her throat. Blood sprayed in a hot arc across his face and chest. Erika gurgled, hands scrabbling weakly at the wound, eyes bulging in shock.

He didn't flinch.

He twisted the blade once, then pulled it free.

She stilled.

Tooru stood there for a long moment, breathing hard, knife dripping at his side. Then he turned back to you.

He dropped the weapon and gathered you into his arms—careful, reverent, as if you might still feel it. Your head fell against his shoulder, blood matting his hair. He rocked you gently, the way he'd held you after nightmares, after losses, after everything.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into your hair. "I'm so sorry I wasn't fast enough. I should've… I should've known."

His rocking grew slower, more desperate, as if motion alone could keep time from moving forward. He pressed his lips to your temple, tasting copper and salt. "You always said I was dramatic," he whispered, a broken laugh escaping him. "Look at me now. Can't even stop shaking. Pathetic, right?"

Footsteps thundered down the hall—heavy, urgent.

"Tooru! Where the hell are you, you shitty—"

Iwaizumi burst through the door, still in his half-buttoned groom's vest, face flushed from running. He froze.

The room looked like a slaughterhouse.

You, lifeless in Tooru's arms.

Erika, sprawled in a spreading pool of her own blood.

And Tooru—covered in red, eyes distant, cradling what was left of his future like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.

Iwaizumi's voice came out rough, broken. "Tooru… what happened?"

Tooru didn't look up.

He just kept rocking you, fingers stroking your cold cheek.

"She took her from me, Iwa-chan," he whispered.

His voice cracked on the next words, raw and small—the way it only ever did when no one else could hear.

"And I let her."

Iwaizumi took a single step forward, boots squelching in the blood-soaked carpet. His face drained of color, but his eyes—always steady, always furious—locked onto Tooru with something close to terror.

"Put her down, Oikawa."

Tooru's arms tightened. "No."

"Tooru." Iwaizumi's voice dropped lower, the growl he used on the court when someone was about to get hurt. "You need to let go. Now."

Tooru finally lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, pupils blown, but the spark that usually lived there—the competitive fire, the sly charm—was gone. Replaced by something vacant and endless.

"I didn't get to say goodbye properly," he said, almost conversationally. "She was supposed to tease me about my hair being perfect. She was supposed to laugh at how nervous I was. I didn't… I didn't even get to see her smile one last time."

Iwaizumi swallowed hard. He moved closer, slow, deliberate, like approaching a wounded animal. "She's gone, man. She's gone. You can't—"

Tooru's laugh was sudden, jagged. "Gone? Yeah. I can see that." His fingers dug into the ruined silk of your dress. "But if I let go, then it's real. And I can't… I can't do real right now, Iwa-chan. Not yet."

Iwaizumi reached out, hesitated, then placed a hand on Tooru's shoulder. Firm. Unyielding.

Tooru flinched like he'd been burned.

"Let. Go."

Tooru shook his head, rocking faster now. "No. No, no, no—she's cold. She's so cold. I have to warm her up. She always got cold feet. Remember? I'd put socks on her when she fell asleep on the couch. She hated cold feet."

His voice cracked higher, words tumbling faster. "I should've checked sooner. I should've ignored the stupid tradition. I should've—"

Iwaizumi's grip tightened. "Stop."

Tooru's breathing hitched. "I killed her too. Erika. I… I did that. Does that make me better? Worse? I don't know anymore. Everything's red. Everything's—"

Iwaizumi moved in one swift motion. He hooked his arms under Tooru's, prying them away from your body with brute strength. Tooru fought—wild, desperate, nails digging into Iwaizumi's forearms—but Iwaizumi was stronger, always had been when it mattered.

"No—let me—"

"You have to stop," Iwaizumi grunted, voice thick. "She's gone. You're hurting yourself. Look at your hands. Look."

Tooru's gaze dropped to where his fingers were smeared crimson, trembling uncontrollably. He stared at them like they belonged to someone else.

Iwaizumi pulled harder. Your body slipped from Tooru's grasp, settling gently back onto the bloodied carpet. Tooru made a sound—low, animal, broken—that ripped straight through Iwaizumi's chest.

He collapsed forward, hands scrabbling at empty air where you'd been. "Don't—don't take her—please—"

Iwaizumi caught him before he hit the floor fully, hauling him back against his chest. Tooru thrashed once, twice, then went limp, sobs tearing out of him in ugly, wrenching waves.

"Iwa-chan," he gasped between heaves. "Iwa-chan, I can't breathe. I can't—"

"I know," Iwaizumi said, voice cracking for the first time. He held on tighter, one hand fisted in Tooru's blood-matted hair. "I know. Just… breathe. I've got you."

Tooru curled into him like he was eight years old again, hiding from nightmares. "She was supposed to be my wife," he whispered. "We were supposed to… we were supposed to…"

The words dissolved into more sobs.

Iwaizumi didn't let go. Not when distant shouts echoed down the hall—guests, staff, security. Not when sirens began to wail far below. Not when the room filled with flashing lights and horrified faces.

He just held on.

Because if he let go, Tooru would shatter completely.

And Iwaizumi wasn't ready to lose both of them in one day.

The church bells outside kept ringing, cheerful and mocking.

Tooru laughed once—a hollow, broken sound.

"Bad omen, huh?" he said to no one in particular. "Guess you were right after all."

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time in his life, the Grand King let himself lose. Completely. Irreversibly.

Because the one match he could never win… was already over.

[yuitan023]

SEIJOH 3rd

[nowherelittlegirl]

Watching the movie finally got me to start #Haikyuu and boy I’ve missed so much ( ；∀；)👌🏐✨

instagram

[fortinefiftine]

watching kpop demon hunters just made me realize i have a thing for cocky dark haired men

[w1shes0]

Tooru Oikawa x Ballerina! Reader - one shot

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

she was mesmerising to him. with every step she took, he came closer to the edge of his seat. with every twirl, with every pose- she became intoxicating to him. he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

her movements were so smooth, so swift. he didn’t know someone could move as well as she did, the control she had on her body was almost unbelievable. sure he was also good at controlling his body- the sport of volleyball demanded it- but she was on a completely different level.

“can i help you, young man?”

a voice snapped oikawa out of his trance. an older woman stood beside him, her hands on her hips as she stared him down, challenging his existence in her hall. “i’m sorry, ma’am…” oikawa apologised, his eyes darting back to the girl bending her knees. “i seem to have gotten lost.” he continued, his eyes glued to her.

“well, where are you trying to go?”

“the volleyball try outs, ma’am.” he turned back to the woman, holding up the sheet of paper in his hands. “you’re in the wrong building. nobutero’s wretched gymnasium is on the west, you’re in the east building.” she clicked her tongue. “right.. thank you.” he bowed his head out of embarrassment, giving the girl one last glance before turning away.

'𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣?' he thought to himself.

“straighten your back!” the older woman snapped as she returned to her students. y/n had practiced ballet since she was a child, she knew everything about the arts and yet she still felt as if she wasn’t good enough. it was either her posture or her twirl, she always found herself under immense stress. now that she was starting high school, she was also joining a new ballet environment with an even stricter teacher than her last.

still, she vowed to try her best and become the most admired ballerina in her school, or even the city. “alright, that’s enough for today. i will see you all tomorrow bright and early.” the woman snapped her fingers.

y/n watched as everyone left the gymnasium. she had made it a habit to stay back and practice longer. she wasn’t going to become the best by stopping when everyone else did. the only way she would stop was when her knees gave out.

“y/n, aren’t you going to go?”

“no ma’am. i will rest a little and get back to practice- if that’s okay.” she quickly corrected as the woman nodded and handed a set of keys to her. “lock up once you’re finished. i’m leaving.” she waved, heading out of the gymnasium.

by the time she was done, the clock had hit 6:30. she was satisfied with her practice for the day and decided to finally go home. the changing rooms were down the hall, which was the worst part since walking was always a pain after practice. everything down to her toes were sore until the next morning.

“hey.. you’re the ballerina girl.”

looking up, she saw a brown haired boy looking down at her, a small duffel bag under his arm. “do i know you?” she questioned as she continued walking out of the school gates. “no- i saw you practicing. you’re amazing.” she caught up to her side.

“thank you… are you part of the volleyball team?” she pointed down at the volleyball sticking out of his duffel bag, blocking the zip from going all the way. “oh yes- you’re looking at the new captain of the volleyball team.” he proudly put. “already? you must be really good then?”

“you can come watch me play volleyball sometime.”

“you can’t catch me dead on a volleyball court.”

the two hadn’t realised it but they continued on in the same path, reaching the same destination. they were neighbours. being neighbours was fun for the two until their second year of high school, even worse when it was their third year. y/n swore oikawa was her arch nemesis sent by God to provoke her all day and oikawa swore the exact same thing.

“morning, nutcracker.” oikawa winked at y/n as they left their homes at the same time. she rolled her eyes at his nickname, choosing to ignore him and continue on her way to school. exam season was coming up and she didn’t have time to entertain his ‘banter’. she had to get into a good school with a good ballet program.

“not even a ‘go to hell, tooru’?” he laughed as he caught up to her side, walking side by side. “do you have to follow me?” she grimaced at him as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “i’m not following you, we go to the same school.”

“well can’t you walk further away from me?” she groaned as he shook his head. “why would i do that? it would be such a boring walk to school without you cursing me out.” he smirked.

as they walked to school, side by side, y/n decided to stay silent the entire time while oikawa continued talking. “okay we’re here now, can you go bother your fangirls now?” she looked up around him, clutching the duffel bag straps hanging on her shoulder. “would it kill you to be nice to me?”

“yes. im leaving now. bye.” she rolled her eyes at him, turning and walking away before he could say anything else to her. she didn’t know why she was always so bitter when she was talking to him, she knew she didn’t mind his eccentric personality, she had even liked it before she decided to completely hate his guts.

maybe it was because of the girls always sticking by his side? maybe it was because of what they did to her two years ago- she had thought she had gotten over that but thinking of it seemed to have a nasty effect on her stomach.

“hey ballerina, what are you doing later today?” y/n looked up from her desk to see iwaizumi smiling down at her. she had gotten to know him more this past year since they were sitting next to each other during classes. “practice.. probably. i still need to perfect my form.”

“why do you put yourself through so much agony? you won’t be able to perfect your form and you know it.”

“shut up, iwa.”

sighing, he sat down on his seat, keeping his eyes straight while y/n fiddled with her pen and the piece of paper in front of her. “what are you signing?” iwaizumi leaned over to read the words on the paper.

“im applying for the schools production of swan lake next week.” iwaizumi didn’t respond, his shoulders slumped and he stared at her with pity. there was no way she was going to get accepted for any role, he knew it and she knew it. “y/n-“

“i know what you’re going to say. don’t. i’m better now, it was two years ago and my legs have healed since then. sure… the doctors said i can’t but what the hell do they know?” she snorts out a forced laugh, shoving the signed paper into her bag. “i’m sorry.”

“why are you sorry? you didn’t do anything. oikawa did. oikawa and his fanclub.” she leans back in her seat, turning her head to face iwaizumi. “why don’t you come and watch our volleyball practice after school today? i’ll buy you an ice cream?” he raises his eyebrows at her and she scoffs at him. “i have my own practice, thanks.”

y/n sat in the girls changing rooms, examining her legs, the white tights half up her calf. her hands tightened around the white material as she inspected the faint marks left on her legs from two years ago. shaking her head, she pulled up the white tights and finished getting dressed for her practice.

when she reached the hall, it was completely empty. she preferred it that way. as she began stretching out her limbs, she could feel the muscles within her legs tighten. it wasn’t a good idea for her to be here, yet she couldn’t keep away. she constantly found that the mirrors reflecting her image would call her name, as well as the hardwood floors she used to glide upon summoning her. she yearned to be able to be a ballerina again.

still- simple biology denied her of that and half an hour into her practice she found her legs giving out from underneath her, throbbing with pain and begging her to stop.

tears slipped down her cheeks as she gave in, her body lying against the cold floor. her dreams were ruined, all because two years ago she liked a boy and all because that boy liked her back-

“y/n…”

-and there he was, looking down at her as she weeped on the floor. oikawa wasted no time in finding his spot beside her, his arms wrapped around her shaky shoulders. “oh, y/n, i’m so sorry.” he breathed out. he blamed himself for the loss of her aspirations.

two years ago, a group of girls from their school approached her, confronting her about her emotions towards him. of course they were deeply passionate about the boy, they didn’t like the fact that she was so close to him. so they decided to send a message by ruining her life, stomping on her legs over and over again until all she knew was to beg for them to stop. they ran away and left her there, in the schools storage closet, by herself.

oikawa found her later, but it was already too late and she blamed him. the doctors told her that she wouldn’t be able to dance how she used to, her muscles were too damaged.

“it’s not your fault, tooru.” were words oikawa never expected to hear from her. yet here she was, saying them while he held her in his arms. “i guess ill just work towards becoming a doctor.. like my dad wants.” she joked, forcing out a laugh and wiping away her tears. he pulled away from the hug, looking down at her with eyes that she couldn’t read.

“do you want me to take you home?” he questioned, his hands still holding onto her as if if he were to let her go, he’d lose her once again. “no, i want to watch you play volleyball.” she spoke, her eyes gliding over his facial features before landing on his lips for a few seconds. “.. are you sure?” he raised a brow at her, remembering her words from the first time they met. “yes, i am.”

“so? how was i?” oikawa heaved out as he sat beside y/n. the volleyball practice was finally over and everyone could tell oikawa had tried extra hard this time to impress a certain someone, everyone could tell except that certain someone. “you were great, tooru, seriously. i didn’t know you could move like that.” she laughed, nodding at him. “come on, lets walk home.”

“aren’t you going to wait for your teammates?”

“what? no. they go in the opposite direction anyway. lets go.” he grinned down at her. the two walked side by side, laughing and making jokes like they had before. y/n could feel her heart flutter just like it had two years ago when she would hear his real laugh, not the one he faked with others.

“i’ll see you tomorrow then…” oikawa stopped as he realised they had reached their destination. “yes, just like you always do.” she sighed, hinting somewhat disappointed in his voice. “hey… by the way, i’m sorry. again-“

y/n didn’t let him finish his sentence, grabbing ahold of his windbreaker and pulling him down so that their lips could crash against one another. the cold breeze flew past them as she kissed him, almost immediately feeling his lips move against hers. oikawa’s hands found her waist as he pulled her closer to him, afraid that she’d pull away any minute.

“i already told you to stop apologising.” she smiled as she pulled away from him, walking up the steps to her front door. “ill see you tomorrow, tooru.” she said cooly before closing the door. she could feel her entire body grow hot, her face turning red. she couldn’t believe that she had just kissed him- and he had kissed back.

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