THEY ACCIDENTALLY PROPOSE DURING AN ARGUMENT PART ONE | PART TWO here
Includes: Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Bokuto Koutaro, Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi
TW: slight angst, no biggie
★ OIKAWA TOORU
It had started small, the way it always did. A sharp comment over dinner, your voice too flat when you asked if he was even listening. He’d just come back from practice, sore and distracted from a long day, his phone buzzing with messages from his teammates and coaches.The tension simmered over the silence until one wrong look, one poorly timed sigh, lit the whole room ablaze.
Now, the storm was in full swing.
“You never take me seriously. You come home, you barely speak to me about anything other than volleyball—and when I talk? You don’t even entertain what I have to say!” you snapped, arms crossed tight, nails digging into your own skin. The apartment around you felt claustrophobic—lamps casting long shadows, the faint hum of the fridge too loud in the silence between your words. “All you care about is volleyball. The cameras, the edits, the social media attention that you get from everyone other than me. I don’t even know if you see me anymore.”
Oikawa froze mid-pace, then spun back toward you, brown eyes sparking with indignation. “That is absolutely not true! Don’t you dare say that—don’t! You think this life is easy for me? You think I don’t come home aching, exhausted, with every bone in my body screaming—”
“You chose this! This is your career—you knew exactly what you signed up for!” Your voice rose, cutting sharp through his. “You chose volleyball. You chose to chase your dreams—you chose to chase something so big, something so much larger than life and now there’s no room left for me. And you act like I should just be grateful to stand in your shadow and wait my turn to be seen. All I want it so be seen by you!”
His breath hitched, fury flashing across his face. His hands went to his hair, yanking it back until it stood messily, his chest rising and falling too fast. “You think I want you in my shadow? I never wanted that, I couldn’t imagine making you feel that way. Damn it, I want you beside me—”
“Beside you?” You laughed, hollow and trembling. “No one stands beside you. Everyone in your life follows behind you or they get left behind! You take every opportunity you can to stand out, to make everything about yourself! That’s what being with you feels like.”
The silence after was brutal, heavy as lead. You could see the blow land; his jaw clenched so hard you half-expected it to crack. He turned his back for a moment, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his voice even.
“Do you really mean that?” he said finally, his tone razor-sharp, “You don’t know me at all if that’s what you’re saying.”
Your throat tightened, but the anger pushed you forward. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I don’t want to know you anymore.”
And that—those words, small and cruel as a knife’s edge—shattered something in him. He spun back to you, eyes blazing, tears barely restrained at the edges of his anger.
“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, stepping closer. His voice shook now, less fury, more desperation. “Don’t you dare say you’re wasting your time with me. Do you have any idea what you are to me?”
“I never said that I was wasting my time—“
“That’s what it feels like, y/n!”
You opened your mouth, but before you could, he cracked wide open.
“Fine! You want to know how serious I am about you? You want proof that I see you? Then marry me. I’ll marry you right now if that’s what it takes for you to understand! And I have the ring—had it for months. It’s in the cabinet in the kitchen that you can’t reach without my help.”
The words reverberated in the room, louder than either of you intended. His hands shook, clenched tight at his sides, his chest heaving like he’d just finished a match. The bravado slipped almost instantly, leaving him looking stricken by his own admission.
“I…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I wasn’t supposed to say it like that.” He swallowed, throat bobbing as he took a step closer, softer now, the raw truth spilling out. “But I mean it. I’ve always meant it. You’re not in my shadow—you’re the only thing I can see when the lights go out. You’re the only person I want to come home to.”
For once, Oikawa Tooru looked small—no sarcastic grin, no dramatic mask, just a boy trembling in the center of your living room, confessing in the ugliest, truest way possible.
And outside, the rain tapped steady against the windowpane, the city holding its breath for whatever you would say next.
⸻
★ IWAIZUMI HAJIME
You found him in the kitchen, shoulders hunched over the counter, hands braced on either side of his phone. The glow of the screen lit his face in harsh blue, jaw tight, lips pressed into a line. He didn’t even flinch when you stepped in.
“Hajime?” you asked softly. “What’s going on?”
He locked the phone, flipped it face down like a guilty reflex. “Nah, it’s nothing. Just work shit.”
“Hmm. Just work shit,” you echoed, crossing your arms. “You’ve been saying that all week. You barely look me in the eye anymore, you stay late at practice, you’ve been coming home more tense than usual and pretend you’re fine. Don’t lie to me. Talk to me, what’s going on?”
His nostrils flared, and for a moment, he looked cornered. “I’m not lying to you. I’m just…dealing with a lot right now. I’m handling it.”
The words lit a fuse in your chest. “Handling what? Baby, you come home and don’t talk to me about anything. You don’t even come to bed. Like, am I not worth the conversation? Or do you just not trust me enough with what’s going on.”
The kitchen felt suddenly smaller, air thick with your voice bouncing off the cabinets, the fridge humming like static. He straightened, arms crossing over his chest, a wall you knew too well.
“This isn’t about trust. I just—don’t want to dump this on you, okay? You’ve got enough going on without my shit, alright?”
Your laugh came out sharp, bitter. “So you get to decide that for me?You get to carry this weight—all of it alone while I sit here wondering why the hell the man I live with feels like a stranger?”
“Baby—I’m trying to protect you!” His voice finally cracked, louder than he meant. He scrubbed a hand over his face, hair spiking from the motion. “Do you think it’s easy for me? Coming home and seeing you exhausted, stressed out, and then what—I pile my own shit on top of you? No. I won’t do that to you. It’s my job to protect you from unnecessary stress—“
You stepped forward, heart pounding, heat rising to your throat. “Protect me? I’m not some fragile thing that needs protecting, Hajime! I’m your partner. You’re supposed to come to me, you’re supposed to confide in me, you’re supposed to be honest with me. Instead, you shut me out and bottle everything up until it explodes—like this!”
His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. “Babe, you don’t get it.”
“No,” you shot back, tears stinging your eyes, “you don’t get it. Every time you hide something from me, it feels like you’re saying I’m not enough. Not strong enough, not trustworthy enough, not important enough for you to let me in. Do you know what that does to me?”
That one hit. His face faltered, eyes widening like you’d just torn through the armor he’d been holding together with bare hands. He took a breath, sharp and shaky, chest rising too fast.
“I—” He started, then stopped, words choking out of him like they’d been locked up too long. His voice dropped, rough and raw. “You are enough, you always have been. You’re the only one I want to lean on, the only one I want to talk to—and I have. This is just different, baby.”
Your silence was heavy, trembling, waiting as you stared at him.
“Something else is going on. Im not saying anything, but you aren’t being honest with me about something.” Your voice was stern, bordering an anger that festered in your chest.
“Fine, you really wanna know what’s been on my mind? Why I can’t fucking sleep?”
“Yes, I do.” Your arms folded over your chest, foot tapping, heart racing.
He swallowed hard, nostrils flared. “I just bought you an engagement ring.” He was visibly irritated, voice raised. “I haven’t been able to sleep all week because I’ve been thinking about proposing to you and what I’d do if you said no.”
The words shot through the tension, reckless, bare. His hands balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white, as if bracing himself against the weight of his own confession. “If you, for one second, think that I don’t trust you, you’re wrong. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted with my entire heart. You are my better half. I just don’t know how to do this without screwing it up. But I know I want you—for the rest of my life. So if you marry me, I’ll prove it every day.”
The fight still lingered in the air, jagged and raw, but in his voice there was nothing but desperation — a vow cracked open too soon, in the middle of the mess, like it had been clawing its way out for months.
For once, Iwaizumi Hajime looked unsteady, standing in your kitchen with his heart in his hands, waiting for you to either take it or leave him undone.
⸻
★ BOKUTO KOUTARU
The slam of the front door rattled the apartment, and Bokuto’s voice followed it, already too loud for the small apartment.
“I don’t get what I did wrong!” His bag was thrown to the floor, shoes kicked off carelessly. His hair was still damp from the shower at the gym, sticking to his forehead, chest heaving from the leftover adrenaline of practice.
You stood by the couch, arms crossed, refusing to let your voice shake. “You forgot, Koutaro. Again. You promised me that you’d be there tonight.”
His face twisted, hands flying out in exasperation. “I had a last minute team dinner, there was no way out of it. We were meeting with the marketing team for our next tour!”
“This isn’t just about dinner, Koutarou. You knew that this night was important to me—you promised me you’d get out of anything related to work. This was my best presentation yet—this was my night! And you weren’t there. You didn’t even text me.”
That landed like a spike straight into his chest. He opened his mouth, closed it, then started pacing, socks squeaking against the floorboards. “I’m sorry, okay? I messed up. But do you have to make it sound like I don’t care about you? You’re everything to me!”
“Then why don’t I ever feel like it?” The words shot out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t take them back. The apartment went quiet, save for his uneven breathing and the faint hum of the streetlights outside.
Bokuto froze, shoulders sagging like you’d physically struck him. His lower lip trembled, his voice catching somewhere between anger and despair. “That’s not fair.”
“You think it’s fair for me to sit alone in a room full of people, waiting for you to show up, pretending that I’m not hurt?” Your voice cracked, eyes burning. “Sometimes you make me feel invisible, Koutarou. Like my ambition, my career, my dreams don’t matter to you. I don’t feel supported in my endeavors.”
He flinched, stumbling back like the word itself had knocked the air out of him. His hands tangled in his hair, tugging, his voice breaking apart. “You aren’t invisible to me, baby. You think I don’t see you? I see your hard work, the passion behind your work! You think I don’t—” He stopped, choking on the words, and then his whole chest heaved as they tore out of him:
“You know what? Fuck it—just marry me. ”
It came out raw, desperate, too loud. His eyes were wide and wet, his chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted down the court. “Marry me so you’ll never think that you don’t matter to me again. Marry me so you’ll know—every single day—that you’re the only thing I see, even when I’m a screw-up, even when I fall through, even when I’m the worst version of myself.”
The silence that followed was brutal. His hands dropped uselessly to his sides, trembling. His voice softened, cracked.
“I was gonna make it special. I bought a ring. It’s been in my gym bag for weeks because I know it’s the only place you wouldn’t find it. I wanted to wait for the right moment.” His laugh was broken, hollow. “Guess I’m not good at waiting.”
And there he was: Bokuto Koutarou, the loudest man in the room, suddenly looking small, undone, his whole heart laid bare between the broken pieces of an argument.
⸻
★ MIYA ATSUMU my baby
Your voice cracked as you shoved the door open, storming into the humid night. The slam of the door echoed down the quiet street, the sound of your footsteps slapping the pavement.
“Don’t walk away from me!” Atsumu’s voice thundered after you, raw and furious, door slamming open, chasing you down the front steps of his apartment building. His bare feet hit the concrete as he sprinted after you, hair wild, shirt twisted on his frame like he hadn’t even managed to pull it on right, his expression carved with frustration and something sharper underneath.
You spun on him under the harsh glow of the streetlight, voice breaking as you shouted, “What else am I supposed to do, Atsumu? You don’t come home, you don’t answer when I call, you act like a stranger—and now you can’t even look me in the eye when I ask where you’ve been. What am I supposed to think?”
His hands flew out, helpless, exasperated. “Not that! Damn it, baby, not that!”
“What then?!” Tears blurred your vision, hot and relentless. “Tell me, Atsumu! Because right now, it feels like you’re lying to me. It feels like you’re hiding something—or someone.”
That word hit him like a fist. His whole body snapped forward, eyes blazing, chest rising too fast. “Don’t fuckin’ say that,” he growled, low and dangerous.
“What else am I supposed to think?!”
He cracked.
The words split him open. His face twisted, anger and pain colliding, and he barked out, “I WASN’T CHEATIN’ ON YA!” his voice splitting the night wide open.
Lights flickered on in two different windows above you. Someone hissed, “Can you shut up!” from a balcony. Neither of you cared.
Atsumu’s voice shook as he pointed a finger at his chest, his whole body trembling with the force of holding himself together. “I wasn’t cheatin’ on ya babygirl, I would never do that to you! I was—I was—fuck—” He dug into his pocket, yanking something out with shaking hands. The little velvet box was so worn it looked like he’d been carrying it everywhere, squeezing it to death.
Your breath caught.
He snapped it open, ring glittering in the harsh streetlight. His knees buckled, and before you could process it, he was kneeling on the cold, wet pavement, tears streaking down his furious face.
“I was buyin’ you this!” he shouted, voice breaking ragged. “I’ve been sneakin’ off, lyin’, stressin’ myself sick ‘cause I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted the words to come out right. I wanted the moment to be beautiful—not this.” He slammed the box against his chest, laugh splintering into a sob.
The night went dead silent, except for the thrum of your pulse in your ears. You blinked, the fight stalling in your throat.
Your lips parted, words caught somewhere between disbelief and heartbreak. “You bought me a ring?”
He nodded once, quick and jerky, then dropped to one knee right there on the cracked sidewalk, under the yellow glow of the streetlamp. His hands were shaking as he pried open the box, revealing the simple, gleaming band inside. His voice cracked when he looked up at you.
“Marry me. Please. I don’t care that it’s ugly like this, in the middle of a fight, with the neighbors watchin’.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, desperate. “I can’t stand ya thinkin’ I don’t want ya, that I’d ever choose anyone else other than you. You’re it for me, y/n. Always have been. I can’t do life without ya—I won’t.”
The whole street felt like it had gone still — the air, the lights, even the rain-slick pavement underfoot. Atsumu Miya, brash and arrogant and impossible, knelt trembling before you, his messy truth finally spilling out into the night.
⸻
★ SAKUSA KIYOOMI
The silence had stretched between you for days, and now it was breaking, sharp and brittle like cracked glass. You stood in the narrow hallway of his apartment, arms crossed, jaw tight, the evening light falling across your face in harsh lines.
“You’re impossible,” you spat finally, voice shaking despite your attempt to stay calm. “I can’t—how am I supposed to be with someone who… who doesn’t even let me in?”
Sakusa leaned against the wall, hands shoved deep into his pockets, expression unreadable. His hair fell just enough to shadow his eyes, and you could feel the distance in him pressing against your chest. “I let you in,” he said quietly, too quietly. “You just… don’t notice.”
“Don’t notice?” You laughed bitterly. “Don’t notice? I’ve been here. I’ve tried, every day. And you… you close off. You shut me out. I don’t know what you’re thinking half the time. I feel like I’m just—waiting around for… for something.”
He said nothing at first, letting your words hit like stones. Then his voice came low, careful, controlled. “I don’t shut you out. I… I just don’t—” He paused, jaw tight. “I don’t want to make mistakes. I don’t want to—hurt you.”
Your chest ached at the quiet confession, the words crawling under your skin. “Then stop hiding. Stop treating me like I can’t handle it.”
A long silence followed. He finally pushed off the wall, stepping closer, each footfall deliberate, deliberate in the way only Sakusa’s movements could be. Your heart thumped so hard it drowned out the city sounds beyond the window.
“I wasn’t hiding from you,” he said, voice softer now, almost breaking. “I… I just—” He pulled something small from his pocket, a box, weight heavy in his hand. “I was planning something. I wanted it to be right. I wanted it to be perfect.”
You blinked, confusion cutting through the hurt. “What… what is that?”
He swallowed, eyes flicking away, then back, calm and steady. “I—” He dropped to one knee, box open, the ring catching the dim light like a secret flame. “I can’t stand holding this in anymore. I love you. I need you to know I’ve always needed you. Will you… marry me?”
The words hit harder than any argument, heavier than any silence. The hurt, the anger, the fear—they all collided with the raw honesty in his eyes. His hands shook slightly, just enough to betray the storm he kept inside.
You stared, breath caught, heart thundering, and the walls you’d both built for months cracked. “Sakusa…” you whispered.
“Say yes,” he urged quietly, voice low, almost a plea. “I can’t promise perfection. I can’t promise I’ll always know the right thing to say. But I can promise you this—I’ll never shut you out again. Not like this. Not ever.”
The city outside faded, the argument forgotten, leaving only the two of you and the weight of everything unsaid finally coming to light.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I haven’t written angst in so long lol. Also, happy to be back, my cat is doing so much better. Hopefully things stay that way. Anyway—tell me what you think and if we want a part two?
