Puds

Oikawa stopped cutting the chicken.

“Y/N?” He questioned ruefully, not that he needed the answer. “What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“You guys stopped talking because of me!”

“So you just gave her the ticket and didn’t think of telling me! What if she turned up at the airport?”

“Then I’d expect a thank you?” Hanamaki raised a brow. “I was trying to help–”

“Like when you told her about Gabrielle?” 

Oikawa grimaced at his own sharp comment, rubbing a hand down his face. The past was the past and the two of them had both agreed to leave it there. But of course Hanamaki couldn’t help himself and had to go meddling. Though Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder if you had actually listened when Makki brought up Gabrielle. The look you gave him that night could have killed. You were livid, and rightfully so. Not only had Oikawa tried to casually “bump” into you after everything, but he had ended things with Gabrielle not long before trying to come back to you. Even if their relationship hadn’t meant anything beyond the physical – it had still hurt you to find out how you did. Gabrielle had been exactly what he was to her: a fun distraction. Someone to fill the space while they both avoided what they really wanted. He hadn’t even thought about her until you brought her up that night. He should have mentioned it sooner, but then again, he hadn’t asked about your past either. The whole Ushijima situation seemed far messier… He wondered bitterly if Ushijima was with you now… ‘comforting’ you.

“Shit man, I didn’t—” Hanamaki sighed on the other end. “I really didn’t mean to bring her up. I know you two weren’t serious, I just…”

Being a drunk asshole?

“It’s fine,” Oikawa cut in, though his voice lacked conviction. “I didn’t mean to bring it up again either. Just… forget it. Yeah? Did she… did she seem like she’d come when you gave her the ticket?”

He hated how desperate he sounded asking, but he needed to know. The memory of your face when you ended things haunted him and the way your eyes betrayed everything your words tried to hide. You hadn’t wanted to let go. Not really. You wanted him just as badly as he wanted you, and that knowledge sat heavy in his chest. A twisted part of him hoped it weighed on you the same way.

Hanamaki’s voice brightened slightly. “She seemed like she understood. I mean, she took the ticket after I told her you guys weren’t serious. So maybe there was just a delay or something?”

His friend’s optimism only made Oikawa’s heart sink further. “Something tells me that isn’t the case… but thanks for trying.”

Hanamaki let out a half-hearted chuckle. “It’s alright man, I’ve got to go but—”

“Oh, Makki?”

“Yeah?”

Oikawa’s expression hardened. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

There was a beat of quiet understanding before both men murmured their goodbyes and hung up. Oikawa turned the gas off, staring at the half-cooked meal he no longer had any appetite for. There was no way he had imagined the last few months. He’d misread signals before, but never like this and never with you. If you wanted to keep things long distance, he would make it work. If you wanted to move, he had connections and Hoshi would love Argentina if you gave it a chance.

Speaking of which—

He reached for his phone again. It was already nine at night. Hoshi should have called before going to school. You wouldn’t go back on your word this quickly… would you?

He scrolled through his contacts until the familiar photo appeared: the three of you together. Hoshi was beaming after “beating” him in a race, you had pulled a silly face, and Oikawa’s arm was wrapped securely around your waist.

There were no missed calls.

Not even a text.

His thumb hovered over the video call button. His eyes began to sting as he held his breath, heart tightening in his chest.

How had he missed all those years with the two of you and would you even pick up if you weren’t with Hoshi?

Suddenly, his phone rang. Not FaceTime. Just a normal call. His heart slammed against his ribs when your name appeared. 

“Y/n?”

“If we were to do this–if we tried–it would have to be between us. Hoshi can’t be involved. He doesn’t become something we fuck up worse than we have.”

Oikawa blinked, momentarily doubting whether the phone call was even real. He was completely caught off guard by the sudden torrent of words spilling out of you. “Whoa, slow down. Are you here? Are you in Argentina?” 

“And that’s another problem itself.” You kept talking, and Oikawa strained to catch any sound in the background, but there was only your voice. “I don’t want a long distance relationship, Toru. And I don’t want to depend on you or leave my family.”

“That’s pretty far in the future, isn’t it?” 

“It’s a problem I can already see, and I don’t want to start something that will end.” Your voice trembled for the first time, accompanied by the faint rumble of a car driving by. Oikawa bolted to the penthouse window and scanned the street below. It was empty. Only the glow of streetlights and frantic moths spiraling wildly in their beams. “My life’s here. And Hoshi’s.”

“Then I move back.”

“No. Absolutely not. Your career—”

“I don’t care.”

“You do,” you countered, and he knew you were right. 

Fuck. This was messing with his head more than he could handle. He never imagined he could lose more than his sanity when this all began, but he’d been painfully wrong. He had wagered far more than he ever understood was on the table, and now it felt like he was about to lose everything.

“I’m not asking you to give it all up tomorrow. But I’m willing to fight for this. We can see how it goes, and if you’d want to move here, we can get a house. I have connections, and your writing is good enough to report on sports—”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaimed. “I’d already be depending on you to get me a job. I don’t want that, I already have everything on the line.”

“Y/n…” he said gently. “You’ve always been talented with words. That excerpt you let me read the other month… all I’d have to do is tell you who to send it to.”

He understood you’d be risking everything you’d built, though it wasn’t that simple. This could destroy him, and it felt like you couldn’t see how high the stakes truly were for him. “Do you think this is a walk in the park for me? That I’m not scared as well.”

 “No…” your response faltered for a moment, “...but you have a life there–”

“And?” 

“And Hoshi and I might not…” The words caught in your throat, barely making it through the phone. “We might not be what you want in the end.”

The insinuation offended him. “Have you even paid attention to the last few months? To what I want? Y/n–” He drew in a shaky breath as he moved back through the apartment and down the hallway. “We have a son, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been in love with you since college… Those few months. Our little bubble—fuck, I’d do anything to get that back.”

He heard your breathing grow heavier. He’d gone and upset you… again. But shit… he needed you to understand he was serious. If he had a millimetre of doubt, he’d swallow it whole and back off completely. There was no way he’d dare disrupt the life you’d built. But you…you were it for him. “I want to see my son, Y/n. I want our family. A house together and to be a husband. I don’t know what else–”

“A husband…?! You suddenly want to get married now?”

Oikawa stepped into the elevator and paused, staring at the panel. Then, with a heavy breath, he pressed the button for the ground floor. 

“Why do you sound so shocked?” He asked.

“I’m not—I guess… I’m just…” You hesitated as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “With… me?”

Oikawa froze in place, one arm jerking out to block the elevator doors before they could close on him. His breath caught sharply in his throat as his mind went blank. His pulse hammered wildly against his ribs. Maybe that was too soon… Did you even want that? A proper future with him, marriage? You’d never spoken about it before… at least not to him. His stomach twisted uncomfortably as the heavy silence dragged on. The cool metal of the elevator door pressed against his palm as it tried to close, when your timid voice finally broke the tension. 

“Obviously you meant… sorry, I didn’t—I–I just didn’t realise you were that serious.” 

“Are you not?” He asked, stepping out of the elevator into the quiet lobby. He had little left to lose now.

“I am!” you answered frantically, the words rushing out. Then your voice softened. “I didn’t think you’d want that with me, is all.”

Hope plummeted into a sickening pit in his stomach as he realised he was standing alone in the empty lobby. He wanted–needed–to see you. Even through the anger, the upheaval, and the pain, if he could just see your face… see the way you smiled even when it was hard… he knew everything would be alright. 

“I say this in the most respectful way possible,” he said, voice strained, “but you’d have to be delusional or blind if you think there’s any part of me that doesn’t want to marry you.”

You stayed quiet for a long moment after that.

Outside, the low rumble of an engine roared past the glass doors of the entrance. Then Oikawa’s heart flipped as he heard the same deep vibration through the phone. He looked up sharply, eyes straining against the dim evening light that barely reached into the lobby.

“Please tell me you’re here…” he begged, feet shifting unsteadily beneath him. If he was wrong, he wasn’t sure he could handle it – not tonight. A harsh beep cut through the line as the call went dead. 

His feet carried him forward before his mind could catch up. He shoved the heavy glass door open, stepping out into the warm night air. If he was wrong, he’d have his answer. But if you weren’t here, you would have said something… right? 

He felt it. That pull. That connection. He had to be right. He had to be… and then, there you were. Beautiful, red-rimmed eyes locked onto him from the bottom of the steps and the sight stole the breath from his lungs. 

“Do you mean it?” Your voice trembled as you stood there, the sleeve of your jumper bunched up, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks.

Oikawa couldn’t get down the stairs fast enough. His heart lurched, plummeting and soaring all at once. Every part of him screamed to run to you, to kiss you until neither of you could breathe, but he forced himself to slow down. When he finally reached you, he pulled you into his arms with a desperate ache. You melted against him without hesitation, arms wrapping tightly around his waist and nails digging into his back through his shirt.

“I’m not the same kid anymore, Y/n,” he murmured into the top of your head, “I’m willing to bet everything I have that this is it for us. Do you?”

Your arms tightened around him. After a long moment, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, those glistening eyes searching his face. The world seemed to quiet around you both. A soft smile broke across your lips. You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing his cheeks, and rose onto your toes. The kiss you gave him was small, but full of promise. 

“Yes,” you whispered against his lips.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘐𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 <3 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥.

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

‧₊˚ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♡

Oikawa raised an eyebrow, lips curving. “Some things don’t change.”

“You mean my drink? Why hold back?” You tilted your head, matching his playful tone. “We’re childless tonight. I’m not driving, and I remember you not being that much better than me when you actually let loose.”

His smile widened, eyes darkening. “And that’s how we almost got caught in the storeroom.”

Heat rose in your stomach. “No, we almost got caught because you thought you’d try to be more rough and ended up knocking over the entire shelving of sports equipment.”

“What do you think made me think that was a good idea?” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “You, in that tiny tank top, all flushed from the bottle you snuck in after my practice.”

You took another sip, keeping eye contact over the rim of your glass. “Then maybe we should get a bottle for mine, have a better trip down memory lane.”

The tension coiled tighter between you. When did you get this bold?! The thought of him on top of you on your sofa flashed through your mind. You’d never been this forward since you were nineteen – with anyone else for that matter – but Oikawa always had a way of bringing this side out of you.

His gaze dropped to the curve your dress displayed, moving slowly up to your lips as his own parted slightly. For a second he looked like he wanted to pull you across the table right there

Then… his phone rang. 

Oikawa’s entire posture changed the instant he saw the name on the screen. The warmth in his eyes cooled, sharpening into something more serious. His shoulders tensed, jaw tightening as he answered.

“He’s back at it, isn’t he?” His voice was low and he listened for a long moment, nodding once. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hung up and exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. S-something came up with the guys. I have to go… handle it.” 

You didn’t protest, already reaching for your jacket. “It’s okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. “We can reschedule. Really, it’s fine.”

Oikawa stood quickly.

“Come with me,” he said, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he offered his hand. “Please. I don’t want to end the night like this… and honestly, I’d really like you to see my side of things.” He gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “Even if it’s not exactly the glamorous part.”

You looked at his outstretched hand, the disappointment still lingering in your chest, and then slid your fingers into his.

The club was a world away from the quiet bars you’d been in. Alcohol-spilled pavements glistened under the flickering neon signs, while cigarette smoke choked the air. Deep bass vibrated through the walls as people lingered outside, talking loud, smashing bottles and bobbing along to music you didn’t understand. You felt painfully out of place in your dress, the silhouette delicate, and your shoes too classy against the grimy surroundings.

Iwaizumi waited near the side entrance, a deep knit of worry in his brow. His eyes flicked to the both of you, then to your joined hands, and his expression shifted into something you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “I completely forgot you were taking her on a date tonight.”

“It’s fine, Iwa.” Oikawa’s hand stayed firm on your lower back as he guided you inside, fingers pressing lightly through the fabric.

The hallway was narrow and dim, Oikawa kept you close the entire way. Fingers locked, his body angled slightly in front of yours as he shielded you from passing drunks and rushing staff. You wanted to press closer, but the cramped space didn’t allow it. So you remained half a step behind, heart fluttering at the quiet possessiveness of his grip.

He led you into a back room, the fluorescent buzz overhead immediately shifting the atmosphere from sweaty club to something far more grim. Blood and mould hit your first, Oikawa’s large frame shielding you as he stepped further inside. 

“Fucking hell, Makki.” He breathed.

“Makki” was slumped on a worn sofa in the corner, knuckles torn open and crusted with blood, split lip and one eye already deepening into a purple. A tall, bushy-eyebrowed man leaned against the wall nearby, jaw bruised and the sleeves of his jacket stained with smears of blood. No doubt from trying to help this “Makki” from whatever had happened. Another man lingered off to the side, watching everything with the expression of someone who was doing a very large favour and already regretting it.

Oikawa’s hand tightened around yours for a brief second before he let go, moving closer to the group. His playful demeanour from dinner had vanished completely. In its place was someone colder, an edge in his voice that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He snapped. “Gambling here? Running your mouth to people you know are dangerous? Dragging Iwa–and Matsukawa– into this mess?”

The air in the room suddenly stifled as old stories Iwaizumi had casually told you over the years clicked into place. Hanamaki and Matsukawa, their other friends since high school. You stayed near the door, wondering why Oikawa would introduce you to this part of his life of all things. Your heart hammered as you watched a side of him you’d never seen before.

Iwaizumi let out a heavy sigh. “He’s right, Makki. This isn’t somewhere to just have a game. You know the kind of people who run that table.”

Matsukawa crossed his arms, and spoke up. “Maybe cut him a break, guys. It was just bad luck, man. He didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“Bad luck?!” Oikawa’s voice rose, stepping closer to the two of them. “No– bad luck is getting jumped in the alley walking home. Not taunting a man until he pulls a gun on you.”

Hanamaki, clearly a few drinks deep, let out a bitter, slurred laugh. He pushed himself up from the sofa unsteadily, pressing a bloody rag to his split lip. “Why is everyone on my ass tonight?” He swayed slightly, eyes glassy as he glared at Oikawa. “You haven’t been around for over a year. Don’t come back acting like you own the fucking place.”

“I’m not.” Oikawa shot back. “I’m trying to stop you from fucking up your life or getting yourself killed.”

The bar owner shifted uncomfortably in the corner, clearly wanting no part of this. “If you keep this up, you all can get out. I don’t need more trouble in here tonight.”

Hanamaki didn’t listen. He took a shaky step forward, pointing a bloody finger at Oikawa. “That’s pretty rich coming from you. Mr. Perfect who ran off to Argentina and didn’t even know he had a fucking kid until he came back trying to fuck his ex. At least I’m not out here abandoning my own—”

“Watch your mouth, Makki.” Oikawa’s shoulders squared, his whole body going rigid. For a terrifying second you thought he might actually hit him. “You don’t know half the shit I’m dealing with.”

Iwaizumi moved fast, stepping between them and putting a firm hand on Oikawa’s chest. “Oi. Not in front of Y/n.”

Matsukawa pushed off the wall, grabbing Hanamaki’s shoulder to pull him back. “Makki, sit the fuck down.”

But Hanamaki was too far gone. “You think you’re the only one with ‘shit’ going on?”He shook Matsukawa off, stumbling into the sofa. “I lost my fucking job three weeks ago! Rent’s due, bills are piling up, and I’ve got fuck all to pay for it. I thought one good night could fix it. One night!” His eyes flicked to you, red and bitter. “Not everyone has it as easy as you, Oikawa. Not everyone gets fat contracts and people throwing money at them while the rest of us fucking struggle.”

The quiet felt like it was choking you. You stood frozen by the door, heart pounding, watching Oikawa’s jaw work as he fought to keep control.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he stared at Hanamaki. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything? We could’ve helped.”

Hanamaki just laughed and slumped back into the sofa with a groan.

Oikawa didn’t move for a long second, fists clenched at his sides. Then he gave the owner a single nod. The two of them headed for the door. You stepped aside quickly, and for a brief moment Oikawa’s eyes met yours, apologetic, almost regretful, before the door shut behind them, trapping you with the others.

You remained glued to the corner, unease crawling up your spine. You didn’t know these people. Iwaizumi was your boss, sure, but you’d never spent time with him and he was part of Oikawa’s life. A part of this version of his life… one that was completely foreign and yet you’d been led straight into the fire of it. Two had become six, then four… and somehow four felt worse.

Iwaizumi filled the silence first. “You can’t keep doing this shit, Makki. One of these days it’s going to end badly.”

Hanamaki’s red-rimmed eyes slid over to you, heavy with a resentment you hadn’t earned. You hugged your arms tighter around yourself, suddenly painfully aware of how ridiculous your nice dress looked in harsh lights.

“You gonna lecture me too?” Hanamaki slurred, gaze still locked on you. “Wanna help? Get me some water. My mouth tastes like shit.”

Iwaizumi’s shoulders tensed. “Stay here. Don’t do anything stupid.” He shot Matsukawa a silent ‘watch him’ and headed past you. Four down to three and you were really hoping Oikawa would come back–

Matsukawa cursed at his phone. “It’s Ume. One minute.”

Now it was just you and Hanamaki.

As soon as the door shut, you moved to follow. Bumping into Iwaizumi. Standing around like a lost puppy. Anything would be better than the current position.

"Guessing you're the one he knocked up?" Hanamaki asked.

You pressed your lips together. “Yep.”

He huffed, tossing the bloody rag aside. “You on a date?”

“We were.”

His eyes narrowed, hunting for weakness. “You’ve got a son. Know any magic remedies for a throbbing face?”

"Bar fights and gambling aren't really his scene at six."

Hanamaki smirked. “So why are you here? Just wanna be involved or something?”

“Oikawa asked me to—” You shook your head. “I should go.”

"No wait!" 

Hanamaki lurched to his feet and his shin clipped the edge of a low table, sending an empty glass clattering to the floor. He swayed there, moments before his legs gave out completely. He crashed down hard, knocking over a chair on the way. You froze as he hit the concrete of the back room. He groaned, one hand pressed to where his face was already purple, reopening the split of his lip.

Your eyes darted from him sprawled there to the door. For fuck sake… Against your better judgment, you went over and helped him up. He shrugged you off roughly, nearly knocking you off your heels.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped. “Is it just me, or—”

“He always has everyone wrapped around his finger,” Hanamaki spat, words tumbling out drunk and vicious. “Gabrielle. That fucking Milena girl. He screws people over, leaves, comes back… and they just take him back.” His glassy eyes dragged over you. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”

You didn’t. Not really, though the names hit like ice water.

"Who...?"

"His girlfriend. Or at least she was before he came over here. Spoke to them on facetime the week before."

Your blood ran cold. You inhaled shakily, handing him the rag he’d thrown.

“He’ll leave,” Hanamaki muttered. “He always leaves.”

There was clearly so much more going on here than alcohol and bad decisions, but you didn’t ask. It wasn’t your place. Your place was with Hoshi and that was the part that twisted hardest in your chest. If Oikawa was still tangled up in this type of life– bars, fights… other women– then what the hell were you doing here? Were you really this stupid when it came to him?

He was a professional volleyball player. He got the life he wanted. Lights. Different countries. Attention. You were… just you. A regular person, with a regular job. A mother. Your life was homework, doctor appointments and being in bed by nine. Two versions of life that didn’t overlap. They barely even touched.

You weren’t just out of place because you hadn’t been in a bar in nearly a decade. You were completely out of place in his life and no matter how gently he looked at you, or how right it felt when he picked Hoshi up from school, that truth wasn’t going to change.

You blinked hard, swallowing the lump in your throat as you refused to cry in front of a man who didn’t even know you.

Hanamaki blinked slowly, the anger draining into hazy remorse. “I don’t… fuck. Ignore me. Please.”

The door opened.

Oikawa stepped in with Iwaizumi right behind him, carrying a bottle of water. They both froze, feeling the suffocating tension instantly. Oikawa’s eyes narrowed on Hanamaki, then flicked to you.

“He… um,” you swallowed. “He fell. I think he should probably get checked out.”

“Where’s Mattsun?” Oikawa asked.

“Ume,” Hanamaki answered flatly. “You guys should go. I need to pay—”

“I already covered it.” Oikawa moved toward his friend. “Do me a favor and go with Iwa to the hospital, yeah?”

Hanamaki looked up, the tension finally bleeding out of his shoulders. You watched as Oikawa extended a hand to his friend, pulling him to his feet and straight into a rough hug. Maybe this was the side of him he wanted you to see. The version that didn’t seem to run from mess, one where he showed up, stayed and sorted it.

He’d be a good dad.

The thought hit you so clearly it almost hurt. You couldn’t deny it even if you tried, but maybe that was all he could ever be to you. A beautiful dream. It seemed that you were destined to be two people spinning in the same orbit, forever brushing past each other without ever quite colliding.

“Y/n?” Oikawa called, and you hadn’t even noticed him holding out his hand. The easy smile on his lips faltered when you hadn’t taken it. “Are you ok?”

[ 9 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

‧₊˚ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♡

You did.

Himari Sato. You hadn’t pried, but you remembered the main points. Five years. A house. Even two cats, not that he wanted them. He’d always been a dog lover. What you remembered the most, however, was the quiet heaviness he carried at the time. You didn’t understand it back then.

Now, you certainly would.

“I do.”

He inhaled slowly, still not looking at you.

“She was pregnant.”

Was.

Your stomach dropped.

“I wanted to keep it…” He continued, voice thinning. “But Himinari…she–”

“You don’t have to say it.” You reached without thinking and your hand gently closed over his.

He looked up, glassy tears flickering in the afternoon light. He held your hand, thumb brushing the back of your knuckles like he was the one comforting you.

“We talked about it,” he continued, pulling his hand back. “A lot.”

Your gut twisted, a sudden drop like missing the last step, as intuition slithered upward and coiled tight around your throat.

“It wasn’t mine and eventually she left.”

A silent devastation settled deep in the marrow of your bones. You stared at him, protective anger sparking low.

“She came back a few weeks later. The father didn’t want them. Said he wasn’t ready, that it was too much. She showed up at my door with her bags and told me she’d made a mistake. That she still loved me.” Ushijima stared out the window for a moment, watching as people passed by. “I took her back,” he continued, quietly. “We tried to work it out. I started to come around to the idea… of raising the child as my own. Of being a father. It felt like the right thing. Something I could do. Then one day I came home from practice… and she was gone. No goodbye. No letter. Just an empty apartment and half the closet cleared out.”

The ache in your chest deepened. You could picture it clearly, the devastation of coming home to nothing but absence. Rage swelled until it burned itself out, leaving behind a hollow silence where words wouldn’t even form. You shook your head, gasping for anything to surface, but nothing came, only a sharp scoff slipping past your lips as you lifted your drink.

“Fucking hell, Ushi,” you exasperated. “Why did you never tell me?”

He shrugged slightly. “When you showed up… with Hoshi… I thought keeping my distance was the right thing to do. At first, it was. But then you bought him in when childcare fell through. A few times. I didn’t expect…” He paused, searching for words you weren’t sure he would find. “In some ways it felt like a second chance at something I didn’t realise I’d really lost.”

His confession settled somewhere deep, weighted heavier than anything he’d ever told you before. A second chance. Your grip tightened around your cup, something unwelcome unravelled in your chest. This wasn’t just about him. Or you. Not really.

You swallowed. “You haven’t lost anything, Wakatoshi.”

His eyes searched your face like he needed to be sure you meant every word.

“You haven’t,” you repeated, firmly. “Hoshi loves you. I—I trust you with him. That doesn’t just disappear. I think everything just… got out of hand. With Oikawa.” You exhaled, running a hand though your hair as you leaned back slightly. “I feel if something was going to happen between me and you, it would have already.”

He nodded slowly. “I know, but I might not have realised how much this mattered until it started to feel like it was slipping away.”

The conversation dissolved slightly and his implication lingered settling around you both while the remaining warmth of your drinks cooled on the table. A bittersweet offering, like a bridge being mended, yet still too fragile to bear the weight of crossing.

“Hoshi misses you,” you said eventually, the words coming softer as you began to stand, pulling your coat. “There’ll always be a place for you. With us.”

You parted ways outside, lingering on opposite sides of that bridge, with a quiet understanding that one day, you’d meet in the middle.

When you stepped back into the house, the low murmur of the television greeted you first. The credits of some animated movie rolled quietly, while a weird looking bear and –you think, a dog– danced in the corner of the screen. On the sofa, Oikawa and Hoshi had both fallen asleep. Hoshi had curled into a small ball against Oikawa’s side, while Oikawa’s head was tipped back against the cushions, mouth slightly parted. One arm rested around the back of your son, and the sight untwisted one of the knots in your chest.

Quietly, you crossed the room and with a gentle press on the remote, you turned off the TV. The sudden silence felt louder than the jingle of the dancing bear. As you set the remote down on the table, the clack against the wood was enough to stir Oikawa. His eyes fluttered open, startled slightly and his cheeks were faintly flushed from sleep.

“Hey,” he murmured, carefully shifting so he wouldn’t wake Hoshi. “How’d it go?”

You offered a faint smile, still standing near the table and completely unsure where you could even begin. “It was… a lot.”

Oikawa sat up a little straighter, fingers drumming once against his knee before stilling. He opened his mouth, hesitation flickering across his face. “Did he… say anything specific? About Hoshi? Or… about the two of you?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening briefly around the strap of your bag. The conversation with Ushijima felt too private. The weight of his past and the fragile bridge you’d left between you. It wasn’t your place to hand that information over like it was gossip.

“Yeah… we spoke about things,” you said softly.

Oikawa’s jaw tightened at your blunt response and he nodded once. His fingers flexed against his thigh, wanting to press further but he knew better. The moment hung between you, when he finally spoke again.

“About the other night—”

Hoshi stirred, his little eyes blinked open and brightened the moment they landed on you. With unsteady feet, he bounded off the sofa and straight into your arms, almost knocking the wind out of you as he collided into your legs with a fierce hug.

“Mum!”

You crouched down, wrapping your arms around him properly. His warm, sleepy weight grounded you instantly after the conversation you’d just had. You pressed a kiss into his messy hair, breathing in the fresh scent of the apple shampoo Oikawa must have left out for his bath.

When you pulled back, you brushed stray hairs from his face. “Hey… do you still miss Ushi?”

Hoshi’s little brows scrunched immediately, lips pushing into his little pout as he nodded, the action almost shy, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

You smiled softly, pinching both cheeks gently. “How would you feel if he visited while you were at Grandad’s this weekend?”

Hoshi’s eyes widened, the pout melting away into pure excitement. He bounced on his toes, a grin split wide across his face. “Really? Yes! Can I go find my dinosaurs so I can take them?!”

You nodded, and without waiting for another word, he dashed toward his room. Loud footsteps bounding up the stairs.

Oikawa watched him go, brows pulling together in clear confusion. He sat forward on the couch, elbows resting on his knees. You rarely let Hoshi stay at your dad’s for a full weekend, the whole situation unusual enough to raise questions.

“You busy or something?” He asked, failing to keep his tone light.

You straightened slowly. “Someone asked me to consider letting them take me out on a real date,” a faint, teasing smile tugged at your lips. “Well… I’ve considered.”

The tension in Oikawa’s shoulders loosened almost instantly. His restless fingers stilled against his thigh, and he leaned forward a little more, eyes brightening as they searched yours.

“And?” He prompted, a small boyish grin breaking across his face as he waited for your response.

His smile made your heart stutter, leaving it unguarded while you let the moment stretch sweetly between you.

“And I want him to ask me properly.”

Oikawa’s grin widened, lightening up his whole face. He stood, quickly flattening his hair with one hand as he crossed the short distance to you where you were. Your body remembered the last time you were this close – the desperate heat of your bodies pressing together, the way every grind of his hips had sent sparks though you. The memory flared hot, making your pulse quicken even as the moment in front of you remained innocent.

“Y/n L/n,” he said, “will you allow me to take you out this Friday?”

You felt the corners of your mouth lift, warmth blooming steadily in your chest as you looked up at him and you suddenly felt like the only thing in the room that mattered.

[ 8 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

‧₊˚ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♡

The silence that followed was brutal, and Oikawa flinched as something he’d been trying so hard to heal tore open for the third time this week.

“Hoshi, I’m tying– I’m not–”

Even in his bewilderment, he reached up as if to soothe, but Hoshi’s small hand was already clenched tight. He swung, a desperate little fist aimed straight at Oikawa. You moved instantly, the reflex of a mother coming in handy. Your fingers closed around his wrist mid-air.

“No. We do not hit, Hoshi. Ever.”

You snatched him down into your lap, wrapping your arms around his thrashing frame. Hoshi kept trying but didn’t fight you for long, his burst of anger dissolved into messy tears against your chest. Over the top of his head, you looked at Oikawa. He sat frozen, staring at his child that had just tried to whack him.

“I think we should go.” You whispered.

You shifted your weight, trying to hook your bag over your shoulder while keeping a firm grip on Hoshi, but as soon as you started to move, the momentum triggered a whole new outburst of panic. Now, he wasn’t just crying, but shrieking, failing his legs like the two of you were trying to kidnap him. The plate clattered on the floor, smashing as his heel clipped the table.

“No! No!”

“Y/n, let me.” Oikawa started, rising from the booth. He went to take the heavy bag from your shoulder so you could use both hands.

“Thank y–”

You barely finished when Hoshi roared, lunging forward with an abnormal amount of strength, his small trainers slamming into Oikawa’s shin.

“Hoshi, enough!” You cried, face mixed with exhaustion and horror. You pinned Hoshi’s arms against your chest, essentially wrestling your own son in the middle of the cafe.

Oikawa’s hands hovered, looking down at the scuff mark in his shin and the overwhelming scene. You recognised the look in his eyes. He wanted to help, he just didn’t know how.

“Can I do anything?” He asked, eyes darting around the room.

“No.” You snapped. “You’ll make him worse.”

The words came out harsher than you meant. Though, the heat of the moment, the weight of strangers watching, and the physical fight it was taking to control the situation – left you little room to soften them.

“I’ll… I’ll wait in the car.” He said quietly, not waiting for a response.

By the time the door closed behind him, Hoshi had gone limp, slipping from your grip and dropping to the floor. A second later, he lunged again, his small teeth catching at your thigh. You sucked in a breath, standing over him, chest heaving, your hands shaking as strands of hair clung to your damp skin. With what little strength you had left, you pulled his arm back, forcing space between his mouth and your body, between him and everything else.

You stayed crouched by his bed long after his breathing had evened out, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the blanket. Guilt sat heavy in your chest no matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t your fault. You traced over the red patches and scratch marks, knowing some would certainly bruise come the morning.

When you finally slipped out and made your way downstairs, the house felt suffocating. Oikawa was still there, moving around restlessly. He’d already cleared the scattered toys into their boxes, folded the fluffy throw blanket that lived on the back of the spare chair, and now he was straightening the sofa cushions. You hovered in the doorway for a second, arms wrapped around yourself.

“You don’t have to clean up,” you said softly, stepping further into the room. “He didn’t mean it. Earlier. He’s just… struggling.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, edged with a bitterness he didn’t manage to mask. He tossed the last cushion onto the sofa. “I keep telling myself that. But it’s not exactly easy when the kid screams for Ushijima every time I do something he doesn’t like.”

You watched the way his fingers flexed at his side, then the subtle clench of his jaw as he turned to straighten a stack of books that didn’t need it. Internally, you could only assume he was tearing himself apart – Ushijima had never failed to show up while Oikawa had been… absent. You knew the comparison burned through him like acid, and it showed as his usual enthusiasm had been sanded down into nothing.

“Ushijima is all he’s known for the most part,” You said gently, moving closer. “It’s not going to be an easy adjustment, Toru, but, you’re here now. That’s what matters and what will matter in the future. Hoshi will come round. He’s just testing everything right now. You’re doing fine. You are.”

Oikawa let out a short breath and he rubbed the back of his neck, gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah. I’m doing so good that my own son looks at me like I’m the stranger who just pushed out his real dad. I’m sure he never had days where Hoshi tried punching or kicking him because he bought the wrong fucking cake.” His voice cracked, the anger he was directing to himself catching him in a choke hold.

His shoulders hunched as if the weight of every missed moment pressed down harder. Your heart twisted and you reached out, your hand finding his arm, thumb brushing lightly over the tense muscle.

Hey,” you murmured. “You aren’t Ushijima, but you are trying. And that’s more than most people do. I see it. I do. I see how much you want this, which is why I am willing to help you figure this out. Together. Okay?”

He searched your face for a long time and the storm still raged behind his eyes. The way you spoke, the way you looked at him without a trace of disappointment, made his doubt waver, even if only for a moment.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, you know.” His admission came in fast, giving you no time to react. “Not a single day. Even now when I have no right to… you are always there.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth for a moment, returning with the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His words hung between you. You’d felt it too, even when you told yourself not to, but you couldn’t help but feel that pull.

You let your hand slide up his arm to rest of his chest, while his heart thudded rapidly against your palm. “Toru…”

He exhaled shakily. “I missed this –us– I’ve missed you, Y/n.”

The connection between you felt irrefutable, like a story split down the spine, yet still reading the same. You leaned closer, drawn by that pull that never truly faded. Hesitantly, he lifted his hand and cupped your cheek, thumb tracing your cheekbone with a tenderness you hadn’t felt in years. His other hand settled at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. The air between you grew heavy, you leaned in first –or maybe he did– and the distance closed in one trembling movement.

His lips brushed yours with a quiet longing that had been building for months. You tasted the faint salt of secretly shed tears on his skin, and the sweetness of someone who desperately wanted to belong. His hand your face slid back to cradle your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair, while the other pulled your bodies flush together. Oikawa groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you as his tongue slid against yours. His grip tightened, both hands on you with a quiet desperation that made everything in you feel suddenly too aware. He tugged at your hair, just enough to tilt your head, putting you exactly where he wanted. The passion turned deep –darker– like every frustrated and self-loating thought could be burned away if he could just get closer.

A moan escaped your mouth, fingers fisting the front of his shirt as heat flooded your body. You wanted to rip his clothes off, wanted to tear the fabric away and feel his naked body against yours. You wanted to erase the distance and the doubt, to overwrite them with something real in every point where you touched him. Your hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, your palms greedy against the harsh lines of his abdomen, nails scraping lightly as you tried to pull him closer.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered breathlessly against his lips, even as you chased another kiss. “Toru, we really shouldn’t—”

“I know,” he breathed, but he didn’t stop. Instead he kissed you harder. “Fuck, I know we shouldn’t…” His hand slid down to grip your hip, pulling you tighter against him. “...but I want you so fucking badly.”

You answered by kissing him again, hands tugging further at his shirt like you could rip it off with sheet will power.

“This is a terrible idea,” you gasped, even while your body ignored rationality. “What if we–”

“I won’t regret it.”

The words were absolute and hot against your mouth, then he captured your lips again. His arm tightened around your waist, lifting you slightly as he walked you until the back of your knees hit the sofa. You tumbled together, Oikawa’s weight settling over you in urgency. His hips rolled against yours, the thick line of his bulge pressed though his jeans. The friction was immediate, you could feel every inch as he ground into you, slow at first, then faster, and more desperate.

Each thrust dragged against your cunt, sending sparks of pleasure though the layers of clothes that made you ache for more. It felt messy. Almost punishing as you arched up to meet him. Oikawa’s breathing was ragged, moans escaping between kisses as his hips brushed forward again and again, chasing the relief. His hands roamed, gripping your hip enough to bruise, then sliding up your rib to palm your breast. It was rough with need and you pushed your body to meet every roll of his hips, parting your legs wider around him. You pulled him deeper with each thrust, digging your heels into the back on his legs. You needed his clothes off so badly it hurt, your hands drifting upward as you clawed at his bare back.

The sofa creaked under the thirsty rhythm, pressure building higher and the heat coiled tight in your stomach. You could barely think straight, his cock grinding against your clit again, as your nails dug harder into his skin–

Harsh ringtones sliced through the daze like ice water. The two of you froze, chests heaving and lips swollen. Before you could even reach for the phone, he leaned down and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. The ache in between your legs was immediate, while one of his hands slid possessively down to your hip like the interruption meant nothing.

You inhaled deeply, turning your head toward the coffee table, and your heart slammed against your ribs when you saw the name on the screen– Ushijima.

Your stomach dropped, and with a tremble, you managed to push Oikawa back. Gently, you gave his cheek a soothing stroke, thumb brushing over his flushed skin. Then you sat up, sliding out from under him as you answered.

“Hello?”

There was a steady silence, until Ushijima’s deadpanned tone filled the speaker. “Y/n. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No… is everything alright?”

Silence filled the line again.

“Would you be free for coffee this week?” He started. “I wanted to talk… about Hoshi. And perhaps about us.”

You blinked hard, hands shifting to adjust your dishevelled clothes. “Uh… yeah. Coffee. I can do that. When were you thinking?”

Oikawa had gone still on the sofa beside you. He'd heard the voice, and knowing who was on the other end, it made something in his expression shift. Desire drained from his eyes, quickly replaced with a cold, distant stare that made your chest sink. He stood, slow, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t try to intervene, just watched as you arranged a time and place with Ushijima.

By the time you hung up, Oikawa had already grabbed his jacket. The vulnerability from before clung to the stiffness in his posture and tangled with the quiet embarrassment settling between you.

“I’ll… text you tomorrow. Tell Hoshi I said goodnight…” He trailed off, swallowing hard, but then his eyes met yours. “And– think about letting me take you on a real date. Just us. I don’t just want sex with you, Y/n. I never have. So… think about it. Please.”

He didn’t give you the chance to respond. With one last look, he slipped out into the hall and through the front door.

You stood in the silence of your living room, lips tingling, your body holding onto something unresolved. Somehow, the quiet space only made you want him more.

𝖺/𝗇: 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍! 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖨’𝗆 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇! 𝗂’𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 (𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 👀). 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 - 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 🩵

[ 7 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

‧₊˚ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♡

The guard smiled sympathetically. “An ordinary mortal can’t kill what’s already dead.” He stepped aside proudly. “But you can certainly make it hurt.”

Although her acting was convincing, he didn’t expect the sudden change in her stance. Nor did he expect the dagger that slid into his throat in one swift practiced motion.

And neither did Caleb.

Both of the men’s eyes went wide as the scene unfolded. The guard’s mouth opened and closed, gurgling as the blood poured out. He tried to speak, but nothing came except blood soaked gargles. The woman caught him as he fell, lowering him in an attempt to lessen the fall… but he still crashed onto the cold cobblestone.

She stepped over the body, and moved deeper into the dungeon, toward where Caleb was chained to the ground. His arms were stretched outwards, his chest hanging heavy against his knees. He barely looked up when she approached.

The metal blades embedded in his collar responded to the slightest tilt of his chin and sliced into his half-healed flesh without hesitation. Warmth slid down his throat.

A lantern swayed above him, poorly illuminating the stone pit that served as his cage.

“Why her?” The woman asked.

Y/n.

A wave of fury burned through the numbness and Caleb tried to lurch to his feet.

Chains clattered violently as pain seared into his spine and wrist.

No… He refused to give the devils what they wanted.

“She’s innocent!” His mouth flattened and so did his voice. “If you’ve hurt her—”

“You… care for her?” She stared down at him, hand tightening on the dagger’s hilt.

Care.

Caleb swallowed harshly. He could feel her disgust toward him. The subtle judgement. As though because his heart didn’t beat like theirs, it was incapable of feeling anything at all. As though affection in him was… unnatural… or damnation itself.

Caleb grimaced at the thought of their hands in your hair. Dragging your screaming, beaten body away from him. The people you called ‘friends’.

He scoffed bitterly under his breath. Yeah. Because he’s the monster.

“Shocked that a monster might have an interest?” He muttered.

Her expression hardened. A woman filled with hatred and cold desire. Caleb looked back at the guard who laid bleeding to death behind her and he braced himself against it.

“Please…” she breathed — no, pleaded— “save her.”

The woman sank to her knees in front of him. The lanternlight caught her face exactly at the right angle. She was older than he had expected, but her eyes… her eyes kept an innocence that many people had lost a long time ago. And those eyes, so painfully similar to the ones he cherished, stirred something unfamiliar in his chest.

Dalia.

She didn’t speak again.

Instead, she shifted the blade in her hand, turned it downward, and dragged the edge across her own palm. Blood welled instantly. Warm and thick, it slid down her fingers until it dripped onto the stone between them.

Caleb’s breath stuttered. The scent reached him, the subtle iron impossible to ignore. Torment inside him stirred — stretching, it was hungry. Always hungry. He clenched his jaw and turned his head away, chains rattling as he tried to put even a sliver of distance between himself and that scent.

“Do not — you don’t know what you’re doing.”

She lifted her bleeding hand higher.

“I know well what you are,” Dalia whispered, her voice unsteady, but not weak. “A creature unbound by time. A being ruled by an insatiable hunger. You are the shadow that plagues the world while it sleeps.” Her breath shuddered. “And still…my daughter showed you kindness. And you, somehow, you showed her mercy.”

Caleb shook his head as the scent hit him harder. “Stop.”

But she didn’t stop.

Instead she reached out and wiped her thumb across his mouth.

His body went rigid.

The metallic sweetness lingered on his lips forcing his fangs to push subtly at his gums. He kept his eyes down. He knew if he looked at her, he wouldn’t be able to pull away.

“I am terrified,” she whispered. “Both of you and what may become of my child if I fail her. No God has answered my prayers. No one has come. I am all she has left...” Her voice wavered. “I will keep fighting as long as I breathe. And if I must give that breath to you… then so be it.”

Caleb tried to pull back, but the collar held him tight. “Dalia, don’t … don’t make me—”

She cut him off by placing her bleeding palm against his mouth.

“I fear losing her more than I fear death,” she said quietly. “If my blood grants you the strength to save her, then take what you need. I offer it freely.”

He finally looked at her.

His gaze traced the dried trail of blood that stained her olive complexion, evidence of what she had already done to get here.

He barely shook his head. “No—I…”

Everyone he had ever fed from had screamed, begged or pulled away.

Everyone but… you.

And like you… Dalia didn’t move.

Her hand remained steady.

“You may be beast or man,” she murmured, “or something miserable in between… but you cared for my family once. I saw it.” A tear slid down her cheek. “So if being damned is my price, then I accept it. Save her. That is all I ask.”

He stared at her palm, the pulsing heat radiating in the dim light. He had what he needed to escape, but not the way he wanted. And from the look in Dalia’s eyes… it wasn’t the way she wanted either.

You would never forgive him.

You were all he had left.

But… she was all you had.

Caleb lowered his head toward your mother’s hand. A mutual path of quiet destruction set in motion.

For if your hatred meant you lived…

It was a burden he could carry the remainder of your mortal life.

And his immortal one, if he had to.

“Oikawa?”

His face was flushed, hair wild, eyes full of frantic concern that mirrored your own too closely.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” He snapped. “Are you insane?”

You tried to speak, but your throat was too tight.

How did he find you? 

His gaze dropped to your feet and froze.

“You’re barefoot?”

Your feet were smudged grey with dirt and bleeding in numerous places. Turning to look behind you, you saw small blotches of red stamped into the concrete.

“I–Hoshi–he ran–” 

“I know,” he cut in. “Ushijima called Iwa. I’ve been driving around since.” His hand touched your arm. “You’re shaking.”

“I can’t find him. I’ve looked everywhere, and—what if someone took him? What if it’s my fault?”

“Don’t go there.”

“I already have!” You cried.  “He’s out here and I don’t know where – and what if – what if it’s my fault?”

Something shifted deep inside, like a thread pulled too tight, finally snapping, and your head throbbed, as if bruised from the inside. Then the sob tore free, curling your shoulders inward as you dropped beneath the flickering streetlight. The road blurred under you, wet with tears, while the weight of a thousand terrifying what-ifs ran rampant in your mind. 

Oikawa didn’t say a word. He just stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, tightly, like he was the only thing keeping you together. You hadn’t expected to cry like that. Not in front of him. But the moment he touched you, it was like a dam gave out. The fear, guilt, exhaustion, and the cold that had settled in your bones all poured out of you in waves that just wouldn’t stop.

“I should’ve been watching him,” you choked into his chest. “I shouldn’t have – I should’ve…”

“Stop,” Oikawa said firmly, his hand cradling the back of your head. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“But I–”

“I said stop.” He repeated. “You’re not the only one responsible for him. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You gripped his jacket, fingers clenching the fabric until your knuckles ached. You couldn’t answer–not yet, but you also weren’t too sure what he meant. He pulled back just enough to see you, and his eyes glimmered under the orange glow.

“I know I haven’t earned the right to say this,” he murmured, “but I’m trying and I want to be here. I want to help. And…”

Your brow knitted. “Oikawa…”

“I’m not running away this time,” he said, almost to himself. “I know I fucked up. I should’ve been there from the start. But I wasn’t, and I lost time I’ll never get back. But I always thought about the what if, I never stopped.”

The air caught in your lungs.

“I want to be his – I want to be in his life,” he said, “And if you’ll let me... I…erm...”

Your heart slammed against your chest and only the hum of a streetlamp and the ghost of Oikawa’s words filled the space between you. He had always been good with words, but this wasn’t some speech he had practised. You weren’t even sure he knew where he was going once he started.

“You’re freezing.” He said finally, changing the subject. Gently, he unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off, crouching down in front of you. “Here–”

“What are you–?”

“Sit.” He pointed at the curb.

You didn’t protest. Watching as he tugged off his sneakers and peeled his socks from his feet. Your face scrunched, a little perplexed why a grown man was now awkwardly yanking at his socks, but you remained silent, watching as he aggressively shook the cotton fabric back into its original state. He came closer and knelt in front of you, lifting your cold, blistered feet with a care that tightened your throat as he slid the socks over them.

“They’re too big,” he muttered, “but at least you aren’t barefoot. So it won’t get worse.”

You nodded vaguely. Once the socks were on, he pulled his hoodie over your shoulders and zipped it halfway. You were practically swimming in it, but the warmth from him wearing it clung to your skin, and that felt…comforting.

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “Let’s go find our kid.”

You walked in silence, side by side. The pavement stretched endlessly before you and the hum of distant traffic was the only sound, like a heartbeat muffled behind layers of thick woods and concrete. Every alleyway felt like it was empty, but you knew it wasn’t, which is why you weren’t surprised when an orange cat ran out from behind one of the buildings.

Oikawa hadn’t let go of your hand. He hadn’t asked where you were going. He just walked with you, step for step, his eyes sharp as they scanned the dark. He squinted up each passing road, and there was still no sign of Hoshi. 

Fuck!

“I keep thinking about the worst,” you whispered.

Oikawa’s fingers tightened around yours.

“Don’t,” he said. “He’s smart. And strong. Just like his mum.”

You let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “That’s generous.”

“No, it’s the truth.” He said. “I’ve seen how you are with him.”

“Oh, but running off? He got that from his father.”

Oikawa shot you a look.

“I’m sorry Y/n,” he said. “And maybe I deserve that. Maybe I deserve worse. But I’m still here.”

“I don’t want to let you in,” you stated, “I was – am angry. At you. At myself. At everything. I don’t want to open that door again. What if you walked out a second time? What if he got used to you, and then you left?”

“But… does he want to get used to me?” 

You nodded hesitantly. “I think he might at some point… I can’t give you a proper answer right now.”

“I can’t change what I missed.” He said. “But if he’ll let me – I want to earn my way in.”

You stopped walking. 

The wind stirred around you, tugging at the hem of the hoodie draped over your shoulders, and you turned to him. 

You stared at him. And in that moment, every decision, every possible outcome, surged through your mind. This was the same man who had once broken your heart. Who had walked away when you needed him to stay. Who hadn’t shown up until it was almost too late.

How were you supposed to trust that?

Trust meant risk. And when Hoshi was in the equation, risk wasn’t an option.

But even as ever fibre screamed for caution, other thoughts clawed to the surface. Ones you couldn’t ignore. You sawHoshi scan every crowd for a face that never came and you saw him latch onto what was missing with a kind of quiet plea. Maybe that’s why you let Ushijima step into the mould or why you let Atsumu linger longer than you ever needed him to. Maybe it’s why you kept trying to build something stable out of every moment of chaos.

You didn’t trust Oikawa. Not yet. Maybe not ever in the way you once did. But then again, there was a time you hadn’t trusted Ushijima, either. Or Atsumu. Or most of all, yourself.

You’d spent so long second-guessing your choices that you’d forgotten Hoshi didn’t need perfection. He needed space to choose for himself, not to be caged by your fear.

Oikawa didn’t deserve an open door. Hoshi, on the other hand, deserved the choice to knock on it.

A sniffle cut through the quiet.

You both turned. There, curled on the bench inside the bus shelter with his knees pulled to his chest, was Hoshi.

“Hoshi!”

He ran into your arms. You dropped to your knees, kissing his hair, his forehead, anything you could reach. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“I’m here,” you whispered over and over. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“I'm sorry–” Hoshi hiccuped into your shoulder, “Are you mad?”

“Yes.” You held him tighter, throat burning. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you…”

Oikawa stayed back, crouching a careful distance away. “Hey, bud,” he said gently. “You okay?”

Hoshi peeked over your shoulder but didn’t speak, and his grip on your hoodie tightened.

Oikawa nodded. “It’s okay, I just wanted to make sure you and your mum were safe.” He met your eyes. “I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded once, giving him a soft smile, but you knew he could see the uncertainty in your eyes. 

Oikawa cleared his throat and stood slowly. “Let’s get you two home.”

You exhaled deeply and gathered Hoshi into your arms. He let you, his arms winding around your neck without a word, though he nuzzled deeper into your shoulder, your guess, to hide from Oikawa. It wasn’t pure acceptance. Not really, but it wasn't a complete rejection.

The outside light washed over you the moment you were in reaching distance of your front door, casting a gentle, amber glow that told you you were home. Hoshi had dozed off against your shoulder, the light glinting from the dried tears on his cheeks. Oikawa’s arm was gently placed around your waist, steadying you while exhaustion clung to your muscles like a rash. Despite yourself, you leant into the warmth. The front door opened before you reached it.

Iwaizumi stood there, worry carved deep into his face. Behind him, Atsumu shifted anxiously, hair dishevelled and tucked in the corner of the hallway – Ushijima. Arms locked, shoulders squared. His eyes instantly on Oikawa’s arm around you.

You jerked away on instinct and Oikawa dropped his hand.

The silence was fractured when a man stepped forward. He wore a pristine uniform, and his pen was already poised above a weathered notepad.

“Ma’am,” he said, “We’ll need a statement–”

The words didn’t land right. Are they going to take him from me? You blinked at him, struggling to make the shapes of his questions that lined up in your head. The lights behind him were too bright. Everything was too loud and too quiet at once.

“She’s not ready,” Oikawa interjected, stepping forward. “We just found him. He ran off on his own. She’s shaken. Can this not wait?”

“I understand,” the officer said, still writing. “But we need a basic timeline for the report–”

“She’s shaken,” Oikawa repeated, and this time it wasn’t a suggestion. “If you’ve got questions, I’ll answer them.”

“Are you the boyfriend?”

Your chest pinched. 

“The father. I’m the boy’s father.”

You weren’t looking at the officer anymore. Your eyes had drifted past him, drawn to the motion behind his shoulder. Ushijima had leaned towards Atsumu, muttering something under his breath. 

Atsumu’s reaction was immediate, his eyes snapping wide. “Bro, no – wait. Don’t.”

Ushijima didn’t wait. He pushed past the small crowd, shoulders cutting through like a blade. You reached for him, fingers brushing his wrist, but he pulled away.

“Ushijima?” You adjusted your hold on Hoshi, clumsily shifting his weight against you. “Wait – please.”

He paused in the doorway, then turned. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen. “I can’t stand here and watch this, Y/n. I’ve stayed for both of you… but seeing you with him…it’s too much.”

Shame burned your cheeks. “Ushijima, please –”

He walked away without another word, steps steady and final down the path. He wasn’t coming back that night, and you held onto the fragile hope that it wasn’t the start of something permanent.

Atsumu moved in, and his hands hovered like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you.

“What the hell’s his problem?” he whispered.

You swallowed. “I think I fucked up.”

“Hey,” he murmured. “Let me take Hoshi.”

Your arms tightened, just for a second, then you gently passed over your son. Hoshi stirred again, but still didn’t wake. It scared you further. Atsumu lifted him with ease, and one hand cradled the back of his head. 

“I’ll take him to bed,” he said. “Then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Part of you wanted to snatch Hoshi right back into your arms and scream at the rest of them to get out so you could sleep. But you were also exhausted and not just in the physical sense that a good night's sleep could cure. So you just nodded in agreement. 

Oikawa still hadn’t left your side, and you hadn’t paid any attention to the conversation he was having with the officer. If Atsumu was still speaking to you, you weren’t sure either. You just stood there, arms empty now, the weight of Hoshi gone but replaced with everything else you’d inadvertently caused. 

The night had truly broken something, and you didn’t know if it could get better from here. You also weren’t sure how much worse it could get. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe you had fucked up your kid. 

Maybe everything was unravelling because of you, and maybe the worst part was that you’d surrounded yourself with people too kind to say it out loud. 

All you knew was this: the book was wide open now, every page exposed, and there was no shutting it. Every mistake was inked in permanent black and white, each line a record of the failures you wish you could rewrite.

[ 6 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

‧₊˚ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♡

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do”, you told Hoshi, reaching for him.

He pulled away. The rejection stung more than you expected. Your hand hovered uselessly for a second before you let it drop.

This is all my fault. You thought, He’s confused because of me.

Hoshi turned to Ushijima, eyes glassy. “A-are you still allowed to come over? Or not anymore ‘cause I’m not yours?”

Ushijima looked stunned, the calm steadiness usually etched across his face gone.

"Hoshi," he said quietly. "I’ve always known I wasn’t your father. That was never a secret to me."

"I thought…"  Hoshi sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I thought you were kinda like my dad. Not the normal family kind but the…always there kind.”

Ushijima blinked, and you could tell he didn’t know what to say next.

"I call you 'Ushi',” Hoshi went on, voice cracking, “but sometimes in my head I call you ‘dad.’ I just… didn’t say it ‘cause I didn’t want to mess stuff up.”

His speech cracked your chest wide open. You hadn’t known. How could you not have known?  You’d seen the bond between them? You knew just how excited he got whenever you mentioned plans together, whether it was just throwing a ball in the garden or going to the theme park; your son’s face always lit up – but you’d never realised how deep it went. How much your own son had been keeping to himself.

Ushijima stepped forward and knelt in front of the sofa.

"You think of me as your dad?" he asked softly.

Hoshi nodded, sniffling harder. “I didn’t know if I was allowed. You’re not my real dad, but... Mummy and me love you. I thought that was enough.”

"It is enough.” Ushijima's affirmed. “That’s more than enough. I will always be part of your life, Hoshi. Even if some things change and I can’t be here exactly like before, I won’t stop being your Ushi. I won’t stop loving you.”

Hoshi shook his head hard, like he wouldn’t – couldn’t hear the harsh reality. His whole face twisted into a desperate plea, like his world had been flipped upside down because well… it had.

Hoshi shook his head fiercely, face twisting. "No! I don’t want him. I want you. Why’d he have to come back now and mess everything up!"

You climbed onto the couch and pulled him into your arms as the tears finally broke. "Sweetheart, I know this is confusing, but you don’t have to choose between anyone. We’re going to figure this out together."

Hoshi’s voice came muffled against your sweater: "I don’t want a new dad.."

Ushijima rested a gentle hand on Hoshi’s back. Hoshi didn’t pull away, but he burrowed deeper into you, sobbing like the world had cracked open beneath him.

You felt like a monster. 

Everything you had planned, every choice you’d made was to protect Hoshi, to keep him from ever feeling like he wasn’t enough. To keep him from feeling how you did growing up. You wanted better for him, so he wouldn’t feel that people would leave him if he wasn’t perfect. But now he was here, crushed under the exact weight that almost broke you...

You hated yourself for it. You were his mother. The one who vowed to protect him. You were supposed to keep things on track, to steady him when he wanted to skip ahead. To remind him that even if he didn’t understand the story now, eventually, if he kept going, it would make sense and somewhere along the line, you stopped guiding. You had handed him the book and hoped that the one you gave was the right one. Maybe it was out of fear. Fear that changing the title would only confirm what everyone else was saying: that you didn’t know what you were doing. That you had already failed before you began.

The words were coming at Hoshi faster than ever, but there was no longer a narrative. No logic to guide him. No comfort in a predictable plot.

He didn’t understand. 

How could he?

He was six and watching him cry like he did, his tiny body curled up into your arm, it shattered you to pieces. 

Eventually, Hoshi’s sobs quieted. His small body went limp. You carried him upstairs, tucked him in, and watched his breathing even out before you slipped back down to the kitchen. You grabbed a glass, turned on the tap, then stared at the water and poured it out.

Fuck this…

You reached for the top cupboard. Ushijima stepped in behind you before you could drag a chair over. He plucked the bottle down easily and handed it over. Your chest pinched when you turned to see his face. He wasn’t angry, just…disappointed, and that hurt worse.

“You are looking at me like I caused all of this.” You muttered.

“In a way, you did.”

You slammed the glass down harder than you meant to. “The fuck is that supposed to mean, Wakatoshi?”

“It means that kid upstairs is going to be seriously fucked up unless you figure your shit out. And quick.”

Guilt had been ruminating inside you like decomposing meat left out on a hot summer’s day, and it felt like you were rotting. It wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was physically nauseating. Every time Hoshi looked at you with those big brown eyes, the stench rose higher because how do you protect a child from something that is half of him? From the very mess you created?

“It’s been a week,” you snapped. “Cut me some slack.”

“You think this is only hard for you?” His voice was barely leashed. “It’s hard for all of us. But you’re the only one pretending like none of this is happening.”

The bottle in your hand tilted, just slightly and you hadn’t realised how tightly you were holding it.

It’s hard for all of us.

All of us.

“You’re shutting down,” he went on. “Avoiding Oikawa. Avoiding me. And don’t pretend it’s just about Hoshi.” His jaw flexed. “I know you. You wrap yourself in control like it’ll keep everything from falling apart. But the truth is you’re scared to admit what you actually want.”

What I wanted…

Heat burned under your cheeks. His gaze swept over your face—your eyes, your cheeks—then lingered on your mouth. The kitchen suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. “You don’t want to talk to Oikawa because it means facing everything you buried about him. And you can’t look at me,” he continued, “because that means facing how you feel about me.”

You stood there, silent because what the hell were you meant to respond to it?

You were avoiding Oikawa because he pulled at parts of you you’d locked away years ago, and you did keep Ushijima at arm’s length because when he looked at you like he was doing now, when he was the only one who saw you, you felt exposed in a way that terrified you.

“You think I don’t see it?” Ushijima pressed. “You don’t want to make a choice, because you’re scared of what it might mean. But you are forcing him to live with your indecision.”

The potent stench of shame rose into your throat, thick and sour, and you closed your eyes like that might stop it. 

“I’m trying,” you rasped, barely able to look at him.

“Then try harder,” His voice cracked at the end. “Because I love that kid. And I refuse to stand here and watch you hurt him because you’re too scared to feel what you’re actually feeling.”

His words echoed in the space between you, too raw and too precise to dismiss as a throwaway comment. The way he said he loved Hoshi wasn’t up for debate. It was a fact, like gravity or the sky being blue.

You stared at him.

Your fingers slowly loosened around the bottle. It clinked softly as you set it on the counter, and you turned away slightly, your breath shallow, heart hammering in your chest like it was trying to escape.

Was that a confession?

Not about Hoshi, that had been obvious with every walk to school, every gentle correction at dinner, every time he carried Hoshi sleeping from the car to bed without a word.

But you?

Your chest tightened, and behind you Ushijima moved.

One step.

He was testing the space between you, silently asking for permission. You still didn’t move. 

He took another step. 

Now he was close enough that if you turned, you’d be right there against him. You didn’t move… didn’t trust yourself.

“And if I don’t–” you said quietly, though you weren’t even sure what part you meant anymore. “ –If I don’t know how I feel?”

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The moment you turned, the space between you was gone. His hand came up, hesitant for a second before settling against your jaw. His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth again. Your pulse spiked.

This is a bad idea.

You didn’t step back. Neither did he and leaned in slow enough that you could’ve stopped it–

BANG.

Ushijima moved instantly. You were right behind him, heart hammering as you raced down the hall.

“Hoshi?” he called, voice sharp.

You turned the corner just as he threw the bedroom door open. Sheets were strewn across the floor, the window wide open, curtains flapping in the breeze.

He spun, face pale. “He’s gone.”

The words punched the air from your lungs. “What-what do you mean gone?”

“He’s not here. The window’s open. He must’ve–” He cut himself off.

No. No, no, no.

You stumbled to the window and leaned out, scanning the empty street.

“Hoshi!” you screamed, even though you knew he wasn’t there. Your knees buckled as you turned, hands shaking. “Why–why would he run? Why now?”

But even as the question left your mouth, the answer hit you like a punch to the chest.

He heard.

Everything.

Again.

You covered your mouth with both hands, nausea bubbling up your throat.

“I’m a terrible mother…”

“That’s wrong and you know it,” Ushijima said firmly, phone already in his hand. “I’m checking the street. If he’s not there, I’ll check the park.”

You didn’t wait. You bolted down the stairs, out the front door, bare feet slapping cold pavement.

“Hoshi!” you screamed again, louder this time. “Sweetheart, where are you?!”

You sprinted to the end of the street, lungs burning, scanning every shadow, every parked car, every hedge. Nothing else mattered. Not Oikawa. Not Ushijima. Not the past. Only your son.

You screamed his name again, raw and desperate, like the sound alone could pull him back.

“HOSHIIII!”

[ 5 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

‧₊˚ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♡

Hoshi gasped loudly and he folded his arms. “Mummy! He said a swear!”

Atsumu pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted at the child with betrayal. “Snitch!”

Another gasp. “He called me a snitch!”

You stopped walking, staring at the two of them, you genuinely forgot which one of them was the child because somehow, this adult man sounded more whiny than your actual six-year-old. You marched over, scooped up the ball and when you found no blood, you gave Atsumu’s am a light smack.

“Atsumu,” you said, like a disappointed parent. “Your the adult. Act like it.”

He pouted, still holding his nose.

“He started it.”

You rolled your eyes and dragged two folded-out chairs from the stack near the wall. Atsumu was the first to welcome you when you began working for Iwaizumi. Ironic, considering you almost knocked him out on your first day. Then what started as flirting, complaints, and you narrowly avoiding getting fired had slowly turned into something closer to a sibling dynamic. 

You dropped your gym bag onto one chair and sank into the other with a long breath. The light from the windows painted across the bleachers, warming the space with an orange glow and a sharp clap of a clipboard hitting the wood floor broke the stillness.

Iwaizumi had emerged from one of the storage cupboards, dressed in navy joggers that sat low on his hips and a white tank top that clung to the well-maintained lines of his body. A whistle hung from his neck and a clear water bottle was gripped in one hand. If he wasn’t working his mind, he was always working his body and you were envious of his discipline.

“Iwaizumi!” you called softly. “Got a sec?”

He looked up, nodded once and headed toward you.

You pulled Iwaizumi aside, tucked near the emergency exit where the hum of the morning breeze could still be heard. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He was visibly uncomfortable, as he always was when things got personal. He was your boss after all, avoidance wasn’t really an option.

Your throat felt tight, and you opened your mouth but no words followed. You swallowed, hoping it would help - it didn’t.

“You okay?” His thick brows knitted together.

You nodded, but you were far from it and with a deep breath, you forced yourself to start.

“Did you ever have any suspicions?” The question emerged barely above a whisper. “I’ve been here four years. And… you have to admit, the kid looks exactly like him.”

“Honestly?” His gaze drifted to the court where Hoshi and the rest of the team were gathering. “I had no clue.” 

You searched his face. “Are you mad at all?”

“I’m a little pissed,” Iwaizumi admitted. “but not at you.” 

You followed his line of sight to Ushijima, who kept glancing your way even while playing with Hoshi.

Iwaizumi gestured with a nod. “I’m guessing he knew.”

“I only ever spoke to Ushijima about it,” you said quickly. “He told me he’d be there if he could, but he couldn’t understand my situation well enough to give advice. So he stayed quiet. Please don’t be mad at him.”

Iwaizumi didn’t answer right away, his eyes flickering between you and Ushijima. “I never said I was mad at him.”

You blinked slowly, the relief fragile. So not you. Not Ushijima. Which left—

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face like a shadow. “I knew something was off back then. He looked like hell. Every time I asked, he brushed me off. Said it was ‘nothing important.’” A bitter scoff escaped him. “Guess it was a lie.”

Neither of you rushed to fill the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked eventually.

You weren’t sure how to answer. There wasn’t even a single reason you could even pinpoint. At first, Iwaizumi had just been your boss. If you had known then who he was to Oikawa, you never would have taken the job. But you hadn’t known. You found out later. Almost a year in. His voice came through the phone speaker, his complaints filling the room from Iwaizumi’s desk while you stood there pretending it hadn’t just turned your whole body into ice, and at that point leaving hadn’t been simple. Nothing else had come close, if something had better hours, you had to compromise for flexibility and at that time it just wasn’t something you could handle with Hoshi on your own. So you stayed and every day felt like walking a line you couldn’t afford to fall from. 

“Because if you knew,” you said slowly, “I would’ve had to ask you not to tell him.” Your fingers curled slightly at your side. “And you wouldn’t have.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. But damn... I wish I’d known.”

You nodded slowly.

“You never recognised me?” 

A small smile pulled at your lips. “Any photo Oikawa showed me of you, he was always blocking you somehow.” 

He laughed, but you could tell there was a small bit of irritation that simmered. “Yeah, he did that a lot.”

“So…I never really knew what you looked like.”

Back then, you hadn’t understood why he told you those stories, or what part you were meant to play in them. Your lives had felt like separate things. His, a straight path; yours, something that kept circling back to the start. Now, fragments of your most recent conversation lingered low in your stomach, like a story you’d only understood after you’d already missed your moment to change it. He’d been trying to write you into his world, waiting to see if you would stay. You wished you had seen it for what it was.

You spoke again, softer. “He never spoke about me to you? Not even once?”

“No,” Iwaizumi said “And now I’m wondering why.”

Your eyes dropped to the floor. From the corner of your vision, you watched Hoshi dangling off Atsumu’s back like a monkey, both of them laughing. Ushijima hovered nearby, ready to catch him if he slipped.

“He doesn’t know,” you murmured. “Hoshi… and I’d like to keep it that way for now.”

Iwaizumi respected your decision without question, just as Ushijima had years ago. After some professional reassurance, you parted ways.

By lunchtime, Hoshi had inhaled his food and was already begging to get back to the court. You barely had time to hand him his water before he was off again but you slipped your parental hat on.

“You just ate. Wait at least ten minutes or you’ll throw up again.”

He responded with a pout and crossed arms, planting himself beside Ushijima and Hinata in silent protest.

You sighed. Apparently parenting made you the “fun police”. At least he was still sitting down–

“So are you two hooking up?”

The question shattered your brief moment of peace and you nearly jumped out of your seat.

 “Atsumu, what the f–”

He had scooted his chair right next to yours, brows wiggling suggestively as he glanced toward Iwaizumi, who was sitting a few seats away.

Iwaizumi looked up from his phone, already irritated. “What do you want?” 

“Just tryna figure out what you two were whisperin’ about earlier.” Atsumu said, still grinning. “All secretive and stuff.”

“That’s none of your business.” You snapped..

“You know I’ll find out eventually.” He poked your shoulder lightly. “Might as well just tell me.”

You glared at Iwaizumi, who offered zero help while maintaining his usual stoic expression.

“If there’s a scale of time, I vote later.” You bite back.

Atsumu gasped. “Oh my god you are!”

You and Iwaizumi blinked at him in sync. “Are what?”

“Fucking.” Atsumu mouthed, mimicking a subtle thrust in his chair.

You slapped Atsumu’s arm without hesitation. “What?! No! Why is everything about sex with you?!”

Before he could retort, the gym door slammed open. All heads turned.

Oikawa strolled in with that familiar shit-eating grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hehe… they’re lighter than I expected.”

You snapped your head so fast you felt your neck crack.

“Why is he here?!” You hissed.

Iwaizumi gave the most unbothered shrug known to man, like the situation about to unfold was just a casual day. You yanked your phone from your pocket and unlocked it, hands shaking as your screen lit up.

Another notification… from him.

I’m gonna head to see Iwaizumi at work. I know it’s close by. We can grab coffee after if you are free?

Your stomach dropped and you pressed your hands into your face.

“We were talking about Hoshi’s dad.” You muttered.

His eyes narrowed as the pieces clicked. “Wait… it’s him?”

Your silence was answer enough. Atsumu’s jaw dropped. He turned slowly toward Oikawa, then back to you. “No fucking way. He’s the one?”

“And that’s why Hoshi has those eyebrows,” he added, pointing at his own. “I knew you had a type.”

You groaned. “You’re a dick.”

“Oh man, this is so much better than I imagined,” Atsumu beamed, dodging your next swat. “I can’t believe you slept with him and still won’t give me a chance. Tragic.”

“You are the tragedy Atsumu,” you muttered, “not me.”

Atsumu grinned. “You love me.”

“You say love.” You glared. “I say tolerate.”

Atsumu recoiled dramatically, face twisted in mock agony. “Tolerate?”

The laughter should have been harmless, it was a familiar setting for you now. The banter between the guys and especially Atsumu’s crude yet prying antics. Until you glanced toward the court. Hoshi was no longer pouting. He was staring straight at Oikawa, eyes wide with awe at the stranger. Guilt surge through your lungs like tiny razors, as heat rose deep within your chest.

You stood abruptly. “Just watch Hoshi for me,” you muttered, brushing past Atsumu.

You heard your name called, Bokuto or Atsumu, but you were already gone. 

Oikawa turned as you passed. “Y/n – Hey, I didn’t –”

The gym doors slammed behind you.

Outside, the air was cooler, though the morning sun began to carry its warmth over the car park. The hem of your black fitted sports skirt fluttered against your thigh as you adjusted your tucked-in tank top, the fabric clinging to your damp back.You walked until the tennis courts came into view, their morning dew still shimmering. For a moment, the quiet helped. Then footsteps followed.

“Y/n!”

Atsumu jogged up beside you. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just… got overwhelmed.”

“Was it me? Did I go too far?”

You glanced over and saw the guilt tinting his cheeks. You couldn’t help but offer a small smile.

“You definitely took it too far,” you said “but you are you but that’s like your whole thing.”

He placed a hand over his heart in mock pain. “Ouch, Y/n… ouch.”

“You’ll get over it.”

He pouted until you flicked his chest, which immediately launched you both into the familiar shoving match. Dodging, grappling and laughter rose until he pinned you by your wrists. 

“Tell me I’m the best.”

“Eat shit.”

He poked your ribs lightly. “Say it.”

“Hey!”

The voice cracked through the air like a bullet. Both of you froze. 

Oikawa was striding across the tarmac, shoulders tense, eyes locked on exactly where Atsumu stood.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He demanded.

Atsumu released your arms but didn’t back away. He turned to meet Oikawa and placed himself further in front of you.

Atsumu released you but didn’t step back. “Seriously? You think I’m the problem here?”

Oikawa’s gaze looked straight through Atsumu and was now focused on you. “She was pulling away–”

“He wasn’t hurting me,” you said quickly, stepping between them. “We were just messing around. It’s what we do.”

Atsumu threw his hands up. “She’s more likely to hurt me. She bites.”

“I didn’t bite you!”

“You would’ve!”

Oikawa’s gaze stayed hard, however, like always, Astumu couldn’t resist himself.

“Funny, though,” he said, voice losing all playfulness. “You’re protective now. Pretty impressive, considering you’re about six years late.”

Oikawa stiffened.

“Atsumu–” you warned.

“Where was that energy back then?” Atsumu continued, voice rising. “When she was doing everything alone? When she had no one?”

“I didn’t know!” Oikawa bit out through gritted teeth.

His brows drew in as his eyes scanned your face like he was looking for a hint of shame for your dirty laundry being on display. His fingers twitched at his side, curling briefly into fists before he released them again.

Atsumu looked at you like ‘really?’ and then back to Oikawa. “Though I guess that tracks. Hard to notice a kid when you’re too busy living a lavish life.”

“Atsumu–!”

“If I knew about Hoshi–”

“Enough!” You pushed your arms out between them. “Both of you.”

Oikawa’s jaw clenched. “You don’t get to—”

“I do,” you shot back, not moving. “Especially when it concerns my son.”

“Our son!” Oikawa tried to correct.

Atsumu opened his mouth again.

You pointed at him without looking away from Oikawa. “Zip it.”

A long silence settled between you all, and you weren’t too sure if they were going to start swinging. Your hands trembled and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You took a deep breath and let your hands fall to your side but something felt…off.

You glanced toward the cars and your stomach dropped. Ushijima stood near the edge of the lot, watching, but it wasn’t you he was focused on.

Your eyes darted right. At the far end of the car park, half-hidden behind a white car’s rear wheel, was a small figure.

Your little boy… Hoshi.

He’d watched everything.

[ 4 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

𝖺/𝗇: [𝖤𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾-𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽: 19.04.26]

‧₊˚ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♡

“Yeah.”

He shook his head slowly. “Jesus, Y/N. We agreed –”

“I know what we agreed,” you cut in quietly.

His gaze lifted to meet yours, frustration burning in his eyes. “You looked me in the face and said everything was sorted.”

The words landed like a bruise you thought had faded.

“I did,” you admitted. “Because you made it clear what you wanted–”

“ –And then you just disappeared” He let out a sharp laugh. “Six years… six fucking years, Y/N.”

“I didn’t disappear,” you said. “You just didn’t come looking.”

“I was –”

“ –in another country?” you finished curtly. “Yeah. I know.”

He sat back, jaw clenched. “You decided all of this without me.”

“You decided first,” you countered, turning to face him fully. The guilt that had simmered in your chest for years finally boiled over into something sharper. “You told me you wanted an abortion. That it wasn’t the right time. That it would ruin everything—your dreams, your career. You left for Argentina and made it very clear we were too young, that it would put your life on hold.”

He stared at you, eyes narrowed like you were reading from a completely different book, like the truth you’ve been living for the past six years was wrong. Oikawa was right about a lot, but he was about one thing. You were young and terrified. Both of you. It took you a long time to understand that from his perspective. He panicked - what nineteen-year-old boy wouldn’t? But just because you learned to understand it, it didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt, and it certainly didn’t mean it didn’t leave a lasting mark. 

“It wasn’t only about you,” he shot back. “You were always talking about no distractions. Finish school, get your degree, build a career.”

You scoffed a response. “I wasn’t even studying what I wanted. That was my mum’s dream. Again, not mine. And getting pregnant... it forced me to see that. For once, I had to think about myself.”

For a long time, you had spent years trapped inside the careful outline your mother had drawn for you, terrified to smudge the edges even a little. Her expectations were her way of keeping you safe; you understood that, but the guidelines slowly became a noose that tightened with every decision. How you talked, how you dressed, how you spent your money, what you studied, every decision felt like you were one step away from tightening it for good.

The pregnancy severed all that.

At first, you thought you would be ok, but just as the rope had kept you from deviating, it had also kept you from falling. Without her invisible rules holding you upright, you fell hard. Finances were a constant struggle. Every grocery run, every pack of nappies, every unexpected expense felt like a gamble. However, under that pressure, something stable had begun to form. Something of your own.

Oikawa looked at the floor. “And I was just supposed to know that?”

“No.” You said. “You weren’t. I didn’t even know it myself until I decided to keep him.”

“You called him Hoshi?”

A warm smile came to your face. “Yeah.”

“Does he know about me?”

“No,” you paused. “He knows he has a dad somewhere, but right now he knows he has a mum who loves him more than anything, and that’s enough.”

He nodded slowly, and his eyes met yours fully. “You should’ve told me.”

The quiet pain in his voice made your chest ache. The space between you felt painfully familiar, an exact unbearable distance as the last night you’d seen him before everything changed. Back then, you would’ve given anything for him to pull you close. Now that version of you, the one who secretly dreamed of a different ending, stirred, but you refused to let her speak.

“I guess I understand now why you stopped answering my calls,” he said eventually.

“I’m sorry, I just –”

“Couldn’t face it?” 

You nodded, and he stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um… Iwaizumi told me when his birthday is.”

Your stomach dropped.

“I called a couple nights after that,” he continued. “You didn’t pick up.”

The memory hit you hard. You remembered the phone ringing. You remembered almost answering. Almost telling him everything.

“You didn’t want him,” you said, not sure who you were trying to convince. “You wanted your career. The spotlight. Freedom. You didn’t want us. I’m not going to feel guilty for protecting him from that.”

Oikawa flinched.

“Y/N… I came back. For you.”

Your mind went blank.

“I cancelled on Iwaizumi. I pulled my shit together and came back the next day.” His voice cracked. “I know I was a complete asshole at first but I was a kid. We were kids, and we also agreed. You told me everything was sorted, and then you dipped out of my life like I meant nothing.” He exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through his hair as he paced.

You shook your head. “You called when it was convenient. You checked in, but not often. Sometimes you’d answer when I called, sometimes you’d disappear for weeks before even sending me a text.”

Oikawa stopped pacing, and when he looked at you the anger was gone, like he was standing at the grave of a life he could have had. 

“I was scared,” he whispered.  “Not just of becoming a father or losing my career. I was terrified of you.”

You frowned. “Me?”

“You weren’t supposed to matter that much. But you did. And I didn’t know how to handle it. So I ran. After I got to Argentina, I told myself you just needed time. That we’d figure it out.” He swallowed. “Then you stopped answering.”

The silence that followed felt deafening. You stood slowly, your body moving before your mind could decide.

“And if I had picked up that night,” you asked directly, “would you have come back?”

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “Maybe. But not for the right reasons.”

There was a silent understanding. It wasn’t an answer you hoped for, in a way it was worse than the reality. Obligation or guilt, eventually he would have resented you, or worse would have resented Hoshi and because of that thought, the question you’d been avoiding finally slipped out.

“Why are you here now?”

“I –”

A ringtone cut him off.

“Everything okay?” you asked picking up the phone.

“Hoshi’s bedtime is in fifteen minutes. Do you need more time?”

You glanced back at Oikawa, who was already stepping toward the door. “I think it’s best if I go.” 

You nodded, following it with a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

“No, we’re done.”

Ushijima hummed in response and hung up.

Everything felt off-centred, like you’d stepped into a recurring dream where one small thing would change slightly every time. You’d always imagined this moment would come to pass, but not before Hoshi asked. Hell, not before the poor boy even got fully curious about his father. 

You followed Oikawa slowly to the door, your steps dragging behind him. The silence stretched too far and had completely overstayed its welcome. You couldn’t help but replay everything, wondering if things could have been different, maybe if you had done things differently, or him.

Maybe if he’d acted more mature and listened to you, maybe things could have been different. Maybe…. Well, life doesn’t run on fucking maybe’s Y/n. 

Oikawa paused at the entrance, crouching to change his shoes, both still not saying a word. You didn’t want to speak first, to be the one to hand out an olive branch. Not this time. He was the one who left. Not just you, but Hoshi as well, and yet, your chest felt full, like all the hurt and resentment you had bottled up over the years, had been released. Not at him, but inward.

You had every right to be angry.

He left for fucksake!

He. Left. 

Why did you have to keep reminding yourself of that?

Your eyes drifted over him, Oikawa’s fingers lingered, the laces of his shoes still in two loops like he’d forgotten how to tie them, and you had to stop yourself from stepping in. That mother instinct almost took over instantly. The delay from him was obvious, but the reason for it wasn’t.

“Toru, I–”

The door suddenly burst open.

“AAAHHHH I BEAT YOUUU!!”

Hoshi bolted inside, his cheeks flushed, and his hair was completely windswept. 

“Technically, I let you win,” Ushijima followed calmly a few seconds after, a small lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he closed the door.  

“Doesn’t count!” Hoshi yelled, charging toward the living room.

Oikawa stepped back instinctively as the boy rushed past him, oblivious. You caught the exact moment Oikawa truly saw his son with the brief flash of awe and pain that crossed his face. Hoshi disappeared into the living room with Ushijima. Oikawa remained still for a moment, then looked at you.

He gave a soft nod and slipped out quietly. 

You didn’t stop him and the door didn’t close all the way.

His voice returned hesitantly. “Do you think we could… exchange numbers?”

Your head shook in disbelief, eyes widening.

“I’m not asking for anything right now,” he added quickly. “I just… I’d like to stay in touch. And when you’re ready, maybe we can talk again?”

You released a slow breath. “I… I don’t see why not.”

[ 3 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

𝖺/𝗇: [𝖤𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾-𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽: 21/04/2026]

‧₊˚ 𝖲𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! ♡

“Hoshi L/n!” You jog over, heart pounding. “I’m so sorry–he doesn’t always know when to stop.” 

The injured man straightened slowly, broad-shouldered and tanned, short brown hair tousled from the impact. Before you could offer more apologies, a familiar voice cut through the mortification.

“Y/n?”

Your stomach flipped as the horror of the moment eased when the voice behind you offered a hand of relief.

“Iwaizumi. Hi!”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, brows raised.

“Thought I’d take Hoshi out for some fresh air,” you said, wiping sweat from your forehead. A peaceful afternoon suddenly felt like a terrible idea.

The injured man finally spoke, voice tight with pain and amusement. “You never said you had a new lady friend, Iwa-cha—”

Double shit.

You knew that voice, and your blood ran cold. Moments ago, that would have been a relief from the burning heat of the day, but given who had been behind you, you were sure that the second you turned around, you would have been walking straight into the heat of Hell itself.

Slowly, you turned, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes had locked onto his. Oikawa Tooru stared back at you, eyes widening in the exact moment realisation hit you both.

“Y/n?”

The air thickened beyond anything the sun could manage. If awkward had been a line slightly off-script, this was the moment the story derailed completely.

“You two know each other?” Iwaizumi asked, glancing between you.

Oikawa had rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit. You look…” His gaze dragged over you. It wasn’t the casual once-over you were used to from strangers. This felt exposing.

He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back to yours. “How long has it been?”

You still hadn’t spoken. Your body had locked up, every rehearsed calm evaporating under the weight of his presence. Nothing could have prepared you for this.

Then it hit you. 

“I know things weren’t left on the best of terms,” he had laughed, but it had felt wrong. “But you look like you’ve seen a -”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and he nudged Oikawa’s arm to shut him up. 

“Sorry, since when do you two -”

Before either could press further, small footsteps pounded toward you.

No.

“Mummy!I found a worm!”

Hoshi came sprinting up to you, his little legs kicking up dust, his mucky hands proudly holding out a pale, fat worm like it was some kind of treasure.

Oikawa practically teleported backward, letting out a high-pitched yelp that bordered on a scream. “Put that down!”

Hoshi pouted but obeyed, dropping the worm with dramatic huff.

 You sighed, already pulling out a pack of wet wipes. “Give me your hands.”

As you cleaned his fingers, you felt two pairs of eyes burning into you. You focused on the familiar routine until the mud was gone, then gently nudged your son. “Go play with your friends, sweetie.”

He darted off, blissfully unaware of the chaos he’d left behind. Iwaizumi’s expression had softened into quiet amusement. Oikawa, however, looked as if he’d rather take another ball to the groin than process what he’d just seen.

“You’ve got a kid?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m sorry—please excuse me.”

You were free for only a couple of seconds before your arm was pulled back. It wasn’t harsh, but firm enough that escape wasn’t an option. He pulled you off the main path toward a quieter spot with empty benches. No one was going to rescue you from this conversation.

His eyes burned into yours. “Is he mine?”

You said nothing.

Oikawa’s chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and his fingers twitched against your skin.

“Y/n. Don’t do this.” His voice dropped low. “Just answer me. Is. He. Mine?”

Your silence answered for you.

He released you and stepped back, like he didn’t trust himself to be that close to you. His hands had curled into fists at his sides before he ran one through his hair and laughed bitterly. “You’ve got to be kidding me. All these years. Do you know what you’ve done?”

You blinked, once, twice.

“What I’ve done?” Your voice stayed, but the fury laced within made Oikawa’s eyes snap back to yours. “You told me to get rid of him, Oikawa. You said an abortion was for the best—that we’d ruin your life. And now you stand here acting like you give a shit?” 

Oikawa flinched, his scrunched brows faltering for the first time. His lips had parted like he wanted to argue, but nothing came. Not that you wanted to hear anything else.

You inhaled sharply. “I got myself into this, right? You made your choice back then. And I made mine.”

“I was scared,” he said, stepping closer, hands shaking as he gestured toward you. “I thought I was doing the right -”

Hoshi materialised out of nowhere and launched himself forward, his tiny hands flinging something straight into Oikawa’s face. Time slowed, and you watched the horror contort Oikawa’s features, as a splatter of mud and, to your absolute horror, the same worm he was forced to drop earlier, had smeared across his cheek.

Then chaos erupted. A strangled, inhuman noise tore from his throat as he flailed, slapping at his face like the unwelcome worm was venomous. His legs nearly buckled beneath him. For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like running. Watching the great Oikawa Toru - the permanent thorn in your side - freak out over a harmless creature was almost satisfying.

…almost.

“Hoshi! Let’s go!” you said, biting back laughter as you scooped up your son’s triumphant hand and hurried him down the street. You knew better than to push your luck with Oikawa, because when it came to him, it was never on your side.

Later that evening, the heat of the day had finally broken, but the burn of everything else lingered. Your good friend Ushijima was washing the dishes from the evening meal. The rhythmic clatter of plates and running water filled the silence, a small comfort in an otherwise chaotic day. You always appreciated his help, but tonight, after everything, you appreciated it even more.

You sat at the table, a half-finished story commission in front of you, your pen tapping absently against your cheek. You couldn’t even remember what it was about. He noticed your silence. 

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, draping the tea towel over his shoulder. “You’ve barely jotted anything down. What happened?”

You shifted from one leg to the other, eyes flickering to the once well-used kitchen that now looked pristine. The mess Hoshi had made "helping" you prepare dinner was long gone. You got up, heading for the cupboard, hoping Ushijima would drop the conversation if you ignored it. Before you could though, you walked straight into his solid frame.

“You’re avoiding again,” he stated plainly.

“Am not.”

He plucked the pen from your hand before you tried to distract him further. “Yes, you are.”

You huffed, reaching to snatch it back, but he lifted his arm just enough that it was completely out of reach. You weren’t tiny, but against the mountain of a man in front of you, there was no contest. Normally, you had the patience to play this little dance, but today? Today, drained you to your core. 

Rubbing your face, you finally muttered, “Oikawa’s back. And he knows.”

Ushijima didn’t flinch. He simply lowered his arm and handed the cloth back without comment. He never needed long explanations. Since you started working at the gym where he trained, he’d always been easy to be around - uncomplicated. Life was hard raising a child on your own, but every day he made things just a little easier. He’d clean up messes that weren’t his, leave snacks where you could find them, and refill your water before you even noticed it was low. You’d once wondered if it could become more, if maybe having someone strong and quiet to lean on meant something deeper. That maybe, just maybe, he could be that presence. Over time, you realised that wasn’t what your story was meant to be. It never stopped you from appreciating everything he did for you, and with every day, you grew to love him like family.

A firm knock rattled through the house.

“I’ll get it,” Ushijima said, already moving.

You turned back to the table, looking at the notes for your commission with more focus than necessary. 

“Y/n.” Ushijima’s voice cut through the room.

You looked up. He blocked the doorway, expression as unreadable as ever. 

“Oikawa says he’s here for you.”

Cold slithered down your spine. Ironic, considering hell had followed you home. Your eyes darted behind Ushijima, but the space beyond him was empty.

“Did you shut the door on him?” you asked, a little perplexed and maybe a little amused.

“No.”

“Did you welcome him in?”

“No.”

You sighed, closing your eyes for a brief moment. Of course, he hadn’t. Ushijima followed the rules. If you hadn’t explicitly told him to let Oikawa in, he wouldn’t.

“Do you mind seeing to Hoshi?” you asked.

He nodded once and left you to it.

How did he even get your address?

Your legs felt unsteady as you approached the front door. Oikawa stood at the threshold, hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets, his shoulders squared and tense. 

You couldn't blame him, though you also couldn't be bothered with his antics. Not now and if you were being honest with yourself… not ever.

“We need to talk,” he demanded.

You gripped the doorframe tighter, because if the park hadn’t finished you, this conversation surely would.

[ 2 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

No dating.

No complications.

Even still, something in your story had begun to shift, where every page felt too calm, as if waiting for something to finally give… and now… now it would.

“It was just two friends enjoying something they both liked,” he’d said with that effortless fucking charm. “Just like if I were teaching you volleyball… if you actually cared to learn.”

Of course, you agreed. It was practical. The worst that could happen was a bit of awkwardness if someone caught feelings, a scenario you’d already expected.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. Oikawa’s breath was uneven, and a lazy grin tugged at his lips.

“Hi.” His voice was low.

You smiled, breathless. “Hi–” 

Then he was kissing you again, like he’d been waiting all day just to do this. He didn’t rush, but there was something in his intent that pulled you.

“No….” You pressed your hands against his chest, pushing him back. “This isn’t why I called you.”

Oikawa’s lips parted slightly, confusion flickering across his face before twisting into a mischievous grin. “Can’t it wait?” his hands find your waist again, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. “I’ve only got a few hours before I have to leave.”

Without missing a beat, he leaned in, lips brushing the corner of your mouth, but you turned your head away. Oikawa drew his brows together as he lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his voice softening. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

Despite what people thought, the infamously ‘selfish’ Oikawa was always caring - maybe too caring sometimes. Well, at least once you get to know him. He made it so damn hard to keep your guard up, blurring the lines between friends with benefits and something else. The way he’d hold you after sleeping together, or the way he’d text you after long days just to check in. It was too much to be casual.

And now… this. A massive, unavoidable fork in the road. One so huge that there was no going back. Everything you thought you understood about him, or even yourself, was suddenly tangled in something far more complicated.

His hands slipped from your arms, sliding into the pockets of his trousers. That’s when it hit you - his unusually polished appearance. Smart casual - tailored trousers that fit a little too well. A crisp button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms. It was a stark contrast to the Oikawa who usually showed up at your doorstep in casual sweats, his volleyball uniform, or, if he felt particularly fancy that day, jeans and a two-day-old top that still smelled like practice. It was jarring. The neatness. The purposeful effort. As if, he had somewhere important to be. Or like he was trying to be someone else tonight.

“Important meeting?” you asked.

Oikawa’s eyes squinted, and his mouth parted slightly before abruptly closing. You tilted your head toward his outfit, and after a pause, he offered a sheepish response.

“Oh. Yeah, you could say that.” There’s a heavy, stretched-out silence. “So… am I coming in or not?”

You jumped slightly, realising you were still blocking the doorway. Stepping aside, you let him in, quietly following him into the apartment.

It was a far cry from anything luxurious, not even close - but it was a step above a typical cheap rental. Dimly lit yet clean, with a warm, open-plan layout and a neutral palette broken up by the occasional pop of colour. You’d always preferred simplicity; it made things easier to manage when your mind often felt like a cluttered mess. Out of sight, out of mind. Oikawa stood stiffly in the middle of it all, hands still shoved into his pockets. You mirrored his posture without meaning to, two rigid bodies, facing each other across a growing silence.

The weight of what was coming hung thick in the air, and Oikawa looked like he had no idea what to do. He cleared his throat, shifting from one foot to the other. 

God. You should have just done this over text.

“So… Do you want to stop seeing me?”

Your thoughts stumble, and you force a small exhale “What?”

Oikawa darted his eyes to the floor. “I mean, you mentioned a few weeks ago that some guy in your class wanted to study together or whatever. If that’s it, then I’ll go. No fuss”

Your heart picked up its pace. 

Why would he remember that? Is that what he wants?

Oikawa was already stepping toward the door, shoulders tense, and that’s when your words hit him, suddenly stealing the air right out of him. There was no rewinding time. No pretending everything was still the same.

"Toru, I’m pregnant."

The air in the room turned suffocating, thick with unspoken discomfort. It was as if the walls had closed in, the warmth of your well-kept apartment suddenly feeling stifling.

“What?”

You swallowed hard. “I said—”

“I heard you the first time.”

The feeling worsened. The walls practically crushed your soul and you had nowhere to run, and neither did he. You couldn’t remember him ever speaking to you like that.

He briefly turned to face you, his breath hitching, chest rising and falling in uneven waves. His hands flew to his hair, fingers threading through the strands with frantic energy, tugging like he was trying to ground himself.

“Are you sure it’s – ”

Heat flaring in your chest. "Don’t you dare."

He exhaled sharply, bordering on panicked. “I just meant—”

“I know exactly what you meant.” It came out tangled, forceful, but hesitation couldn’t help but wrap its dirty hands around your throat “I’m not seeing anyone else like that, so I’m sure it’s yours.”

“Right. Okay, sorry. Just… I mean, this is a lot to dump on me before I’m leaving.”

“Dump on you –”

“So… What are you going to do?” 

“Me—?”

“I mean…” Oikawa began pacing, “This kinda feels like your call on things, right?”

This was far from ideal. You had no means to raise a kid, no stable foundation to offer, especially when the two of you weren’t even in a relationship. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. The silence was unyielding. You hadn’t moved and Oikawa hadn’t left, but he also wasn’t exactly staying. You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. 

“I’m not ready to be a dad, Y/N.” His voice wavered, something raw bleeding through. “I can’t be a dad. Not right now. I mean you couldn’t be a mum either, you know, you - how many house plants have you killed?”

Something inside you twisted, painfully tight. You weren’t sure why. He was right but what the fuck. Maybe hearing it out loud made everything too real. A cold, hard fact instead of a whimsical maybe or, deep down, maybe you’d wanted a different reality.

“I do know myself. Do you think I haven't thought about all that? This involves you as well, whether you like it or not.”

Your words hang in the air, and Oikawa paused, taking a small step backwards. “Look, I told Iwaizumi I’d go with him to Tokyo. Just for a few days. Let’s… let’s talk about this when –”

“You can’t just leave. This involves the two of us!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t plan for this.” He shot back. “We were just having fun - not trying to have a fucking baby!”

“Do you not care? Not even a little?”

“Care?” He laughed bitterly, “I don’t even know what this means right now. I’m supposed to start my new career in a month, Y/N. Maybe you should’ve been more careful.”

You stepped forward. “That’s not fair! –”

“ – We. Both of us”

You clenched your jaw. “Well, clearly not - I could just as easily say you’re the one who got me into this.”

“Now, who’s being harsh and unfair?" He bit back. "I didn’t ask for this either!”

“Neither of us did! But you are being a selfish asshole right now.”

“If that’s so true, then maybe I should just go! Be that selfish asshole all the way!”

“Fine. But don’t expect me to do this alone.”

“Yeah… well, you got yourself into this. Don’t expect me to clean it up.”

He didn’t wait for your response. The door slammed shut, and you were left alone and for the first time, the apartment - your home - offered no comfort. The space you had so carefully curated, now felt wrong… like being trapped inside a chapter you could never rewrite.

𝖺/𝗇: [𝖤𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾-𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽: 19.04.26]

[ 1 ]

𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

On your way out, you linked your fingers with Atsumu once again. Your arms brushing against each other. Stepping out into the bitter evening chill, the small child within you could no longer be held back.

“Squirtle!” You tugged him back, letting go to put your hand on the icy glass. “They hardly ever have him! And he’s the last one!” You turned to face Atsumu, your lips already pouting.

“It’s three degrees… and you want me to play on the one machine that's outside?” His expression was deadpan.

You chewed your lower lip. “Please?”

Atsumu sighed, loudly, dragging his feet as he came to join you. He held his hand out and you placed the slippery cold coin into his palm. Although he seemed reluctant at the start, Atsumu had become more and more determined, jabbing at the buttons and slamming his foot against the machine when the claw would drop the desired prize. Thirty minutes had gone by and he hadn’t even noticed that you slipped away, returning with two cups of warm coco. 

“Here.” You grinned.

He blankly accepted, his concentration never wavering. He took a quick slurp and tried his luck again. 

Realising that he was likely in this for the long haul you take it as another chance to look around, hoping to find something to surprise him with in return.

You felt a little bad, as your mind wandered back to the boy outside the arcade, but you’d hope your trip wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes, your legs carrying you through the busy bustling Tokyo streets. Your eyes went wide, staring up at the seven-story building, the windows filled with a collection of undergarments that caused your pink cheeks to glow red. Your feet carried you from floor to floor, and to be honest with yourself there was at least one item on each floor that made your eyebrow raise at the thought of Osamu in the bedroom. You laughed at the different options available - dildos in the shapes of carrots or eggplants, leather catsuits and corsets all making you envious of the mannequins. 

Interestingly, you found yourself scanning over the collars. The lewd thoughts in your head are already running wild. Not overthinking it, you grab a few more items to make the night more enjoyable, but as you go back to the counter your attention is brought to the colourful selection of vibrators. A display advertising a small curved pink one. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you reach for a box, keeping the newly bought items close to you as you make your way back. 

You had taken longer than you expected, your phone reading quarter-to-nine. You’d been nearly an hour. Your heart pounded in your chest. Why hadn’t he called? Did he think you left him? 

Just when you thought your heart had stopped, you heard a bellowing cheer. Followed by the familiar smile beaming at the slightly disfigured blue turtle. His eyes sparkled, and you couldn’t help but smile at the childish grin of self-satisfaction that plastered his face. 

“I knew I’d get it!” 

You blinked up at him, taking a few steps forward.

“You’ve been at this for nearly two hours.” You squeaked.

He handed you his winnings, but before you could take it he pulled it back, pushing his face closer to it.

“Well I can see why no one wanted him,” he turned it towards you pointing at the toy's face, “it looks like it’s had half its face melted,” he turned it back to himself, “and then went ten rounds with Bakugo.”

You snatch it from him, your face contorting when you get to inspect it yourself. “Oh god.” 

“I’ll see if they can switch him out for a new one.” Atsumu went to take it back but you pulled it into your neck, scowling at him.

“No!”

He holds his hand out, his face serious. “Give it.”

You shake your head.

“Y/n!” 

You shook your head faster, taking a step backwards.

His face softened before he tried to resume his composure. He wiggled his hand, silently repeating his original question.

“It gives him character!” You protested.

He caved, turning his hand to invite you to take it. You did, immediately retracting.

“Oh my god, they’re freezing!” 

Placing your gift under your arm, you take his hands in yours, pulling them back towards the arcade machine to get out of the way of the crowded space. His hands were lightly pressed between yours, his skin red but incredibly soft. Atsumu couldn’t hide how happy he was in that moment, his eyes tentatively watching each movement. Everything seemed to disconnect, his world solely consumed by just you and him.

“What?” You giggled, glancing from his hands. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You were sure it was just the winter breeze but the tips of his ears burnt a deep red. 

His voice was low. “You know I have another way to warm these up?”

You tilted your head, your eyes narrow with confusion and curiosity, but they quickly changed when you felt the freezing tips of his fingers sneak up your shirt. His icy claws clamping either side of your waist. You gasped. A breathy squeal escaping your lips as you wiggled out his grip. Atsumu bared a toothy-grin, his hands slapping on to his knees as he hunched over.

“That’s not funny,” you attempted to hide your own laughter and slapping his shoulder. Atsumu pulled you close to him, your chest now flush against his, “they’re so cold!”

“That’s what happens when you spend two hours in three degree weather trying to get the girl you love what she wants.”

He goes to kiss you, but you pull your head back, your hands gripping his biceps tighter. Your eyes searched his, wondering if you had misheard him. 

Your voice was weak. “What did you say?”

He raised his brow, only one. “That - that’s what happens when you-”

“No. The last part.” You smiled, moving his hair to the side.

“You mean me trying to get the girl I love, the creepy ass teddy she wanted?”

Your smile grows wider. “Yeah. That bit.”

“You like the sound of that, huh?”

You hummed in agreement, slowly bringing your lips towards his. You could feel yourself melting away until the sudden stark cold feeling had snuck its way onto your back. You slapped his shoulder.

“Stop it! Here!” You unzipped his coat, “how do you like it?” You pressed your hands onto his stomach, his muscles contracting from the cold. He let out a small puff of air, but his composure never wavered. 

“Not sure this was what you were going for, but it’s just making me want to take my clothes off.” 

“Oh really?” An evil temptation ran through your mind. “Well, then maybe you’ll want what I went to get you then.”

Keeping your hand where it was, you hand him the bag with your free hand. Briefly checking over your shoulder you position yourself so only you can be seen from the street.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Take a look, but don’t pull anything out.”

Curiosity peaked in his eyes as you watched him open the bag, his eyes almost bulging out his head. He frantically searched around him, clearly paranoid of any prying eyes.

You watched his Adam's apple move sharply and he cleared his throat. “W-Where did you...erm. When?” 

“While you were getting this guy.” You pulled the toy out from under your arm, placing him into the bag. Your eyes flit down his body, your hand stil against his skin.

Usually you would be a lot more modest, but the way he looked at you just made you throb between your legs. You slowly dragged your fingers down, stopping just at the waist of his trousers.

“Careful doll. Someone might think I've corrupted you.” He smirked, pulling you closer to him. 

Reaching up to his ear, your hand makes its own way to the zip of his pants. 

“Then why don’t you discipline me?” 

Getting in a more comfortable position, you pressed your palm against his bulge. Atsumu leant his head back, a white fog releasing from his mouth. The sight of relief causes a smirk to twitch on your face and you remove your hand. Attempting to compose himself, Atsumu grabbed your arm and dragged you to the nearest taxi, throwing you in. 

The low lights made it easier for your hands to wander to Atsumu’s thigh, not allowing him to return the favour. Leaning across, you press your lips to his, the pressure a lot rougher than usual and your hands dip into his pocket, taking his phone out. He looked at you curiously. 

“Unlock it.” 

His hand cautiously took it from you, the screen lighting up the dark uber. Atsumu’s gaze was hard, though you were sure it was more fear than confusion. You chose to take your time, carefully setting up your little surprise further. Turning your head to the side, you pass the phone back to him. 

“What did you do?” He asked.

Silently, you lean forward, pulling one of the boxes out the bag and placing it in his lap. 

“Really?” His voice was just above a whisper.

Confirming his suspicions you take his hand in yours, directing it to the top of your trousers. Your fingers dancing around the drawstrings and loosening them.

“Check for yourself.” You instructed.

Atsumu lifted the top of your shirt, allowing his fingers to creep down to your wet laced underwear. His hand lingered there longer than necessary to check, his fingers were still cold, the tips grazing back up and out of your trousers. He took his phone out his lap, the app you were last on already open. 

Unsure if he had figured out how to use it, you were pleasantly surprised by the sudden vibration between your legs. A small hum bounced in the car, your eyes glancing between Atsumu and the blissfully unaware driver. Moving into the middle seat, you placed your head on his shoulder, his hand firmly gripping your thigh. 

Facing forward, you kept your gaze on the road but your mind was anywhere but. Your hand snaked its way up his toned thigh, his hot length rock hard. Atsumu let out a low grunt at the feeling of your touch on him. With one simple ‘pop’ his button came undone, the zip already down from earlier.

His breath was hot on your ear. “When we get back, I’m making use of everything you bought.”

You turned to face him, glancing at his lips. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

His thumb slid up his phone, the pleasurable constant turning into an overwhelming euphoria. 

“Lean into me.”

You gladly accept. Taking the collar of his coat in your mouth, attempting to muffle your moans that were adamant to escape. You started to move your hand softly up and down along his clothed length but his hand gently laid on top of yours.

“I’m not going to be able to last long if you do that, doll.”

You could also feel yourself becoming undone, your hips moving backwards and forward on their own as your body searches for a way to relieve itself. 

“Does it feel good?”

Your slow rhythm begins to speed up, your mind aching for his cock to be between your legs. Nuzzling your face deeper into his neck, his scent is the final tipping point. Your senses seem lost as your legs shake, the knot in your stomach coming undone in your underwear. A shiver racks through your drained body, your weight pressed against Atsumu. 

“I take that as a yes.”

You hadn’t noticed the car was pulling up to the familiar campus surrounding. Atsumu signalled you to get your stuff and you both quickly scampered out the vehicle, both trying to find some money to pay with. 

You barely made it into your apartment before you were stripping each other and your clothes leave a cliche trail to your bedroom. Warm tingles spread through you as Atsumu messes with his phone, the shock causing you to stumble. He steadied you. 

“Get this out and fuck me already.” You begged, a little too desperately.

Atsumu cupped your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Patience, doll.” 

You watched as Atsumu left you, the vibrator almost slipping out from how slick you were, your legs slightly squeezing together. Taking the collar out from the bag, he motioned you to the bed and you obliged. 

“Are you going to cum for me?” He took the collar, the cold leather lightly slapping you as he dragged it down your bare chest, “Are you going to cum all over my dick?” 

The way he commanded the room had you tranced. Your mind was intoxicated with the thought of him. Atsumu let out a low chuckle and crawled to you on the bed, your body moving backwards. Your hands lifted your hair, the collar wrapping securely around your neck, the lead dangling between your breasts. Atsumu leans down and pressed wet kisses against your chest, trailing up to your lips. His hips fit comfortably in front of your dripping cunt, his dick begging to get past your pink obstruction.

“Please…” Your voice was weak.

“Please what doll?”

“Fuck me… please....”

Not wasting anymore time, his hand relieved you from the overstimulating pleasure. Atsumu fumbled with your draw, quickly opening a condom and rolling it down his shaft. His hand pumped a few times before his body came down into you, his dick sliding in with little resistance. Your hands clasped his biceps, his strong muscles sturdy under the pressure as he thrusted deep inside you. It didn’t take long for his kiss to turn desperate, his hand moving gently to grab at your collar as he pushes himself backup. The explicit sounds of skin slapping skin filled your apartment, you both breathed heavy and the look in Atsumu’s eyes could only be described as feral lust.

He pulled out of you, laying flat on the bed and taking the lead in his hand. He fit perfectly inside you as you rode his dick, your hips grinding back and forth. 

“Come closer.” 

You looked at him confused, but Atsumu wasn’t happy with that. Before you could answer, you feel the firm tug around your neck, the leather lead wrapping around his forearm. Your chest fell to his, you both face to face as he bucked his hips up into you. 

“Sorry, I can’t wait.”

“It’s okay.”

He braced his arms around you, twisting you over as the warm sheet contrasted your cold clammy skin, though it was short lived when Atsumu’s hands gripped your ankles, your stomach now pressed against the sheets. The collar slid around your neck, and Atsumu began fucking you deep. His dick reached further and further as he plowed into you. His thrusts were anything but tender, the sloppy actions causing you to almost see stars. 

Atsumu’s mind shot to the little pink helper, his free hand taking it and pressing it against your clit. The stimulation being almost too much.

“Shit. Yes… I think I’m gonna cum!” 

“Shit, I’m almost there too!”

Atsumu’s grip tightens on your lead, your head forced backwards as you try and resist. The lack of oxygen, causing the last of your sanity to dissipate as your body begins to shake. Atsumu felt your walls spasm around him and watching you choke yourself only made the lewd fantasies in his head run wild. At his own limit he knocked into you a few more times, releasing your leash to grip your waist, his fingers digging in just enough to not mark. 

Your torso dropped forward, Atsumu doing the same. The exhaustion was evident in the way you both slowly slid down the bed. 

“You’re really heavy.” You spoke.

“I’m eighty killograms of pure muscle, what do you expect?” 

“Yeah, well you’re squishing my tits!”

He rolled off, wriggling his arm underneath you. Mustering up the last of your strength you shuffle closer to him. 

“We need to shower.” You stated, drawing a small circle on his chest.

“Five minutes.” He cooed, causing you to nuzzle closer to his chest.

“Two.”

He followed your arms, both of them cutting across your chest when you stood up to face him. Heat burned through your cheeks, giving your crisom, recently exposed bra, a run for its money. A sudden blazer became the saviour of your remaining modesty.

“I’ve worked across the road from you for five years and you still can’t remember my name.”

“I don’t even know the names of the people I work with,” you said, placing the blazer on. “You’re lucky we are in a park, would probably be on someone’s facebook live by now!”

“I take it I won’t be getting the blazer back for a few days then?” He attempted a laugh. 

You didn’t. 

Oikawa cleared his throat. “Do you live far?” 

“Far enough.” 

You pick up your discarded blouse and cross over towards the exit of the park, the soft material pressed tightly against your numb skin. 

It wasn’t until a bald head glided past you that you met the second attack for the afternoon - a solid shoulder slamming into your freshly wounded front. Your feet remained planted and the frantic footsteps plodded in the other direction. Rage turned over your insides. What the heck! One - who drinks hot coffee in thirty-five degree weather… and two! Am I FUCKING INVISIBLE!

Oikawa, meanwhile, glanced around his surroundings, scanning to ensure there were in fact no witnesses to the previous situation. By the time he caught back up with you, you were almost at your intended destination.

“Let me buy you a new top!” 

“What?” You groaned.

“As an apology.”

“Is that your way of picking up women, spilling hot coffee on them?” you asked, your chest suddenly tight.

“You have to admit it is effective in removing clothes.” You gave a short laugh and when you did not answer he continued. “If anything you technically owe me a drink. Given you are wearing mine.”

You threw your head back, removing your hand as you examined the sky above you. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. Why did he have to have a black suit …

“Do I now?” you said bringing your head back down. “How rude of me not to offer.”

“You are forgiven.” You blinked at his braiseness, “And as an olive branch, how about I upgrade my offer to a dress. You can wear it tonight when you buy me my drink.”

Briefly forgetting he’d just scalded you with coffee, a small smile broke through your facade, only to be returned to normal. It was clear women liked Kuroo. It didn’t take a genius to see your colleagues swoon at a simple wave or smile. Of course you weren’t blind, you could understand the appeal; easy on the eyes, a partial gentleman, maybe some of your co-workers would pay for him to spill coffee on them for even a second of his time. Oikawa was certainly different from many of the other men you had met.

“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t the type of guy to take no for an answer?” A strain of impatience grew on your tone. 

There was a pause .He slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his suit, your heart thumped erratically in your chest, only to be quelled when he pulled out a brown leather wallet. He handed you a card. You had not intended to take what he was handing you but your body traitorously accepted his offer. What did it matter if you accept some money for a new –

“What do you do in that building! Money laundering?! This could get me a new car!” Your voice echoed through the street, causing a couple of heads to turn before you lowered your voice, “I’m sorry but it’s too much.”

Oikawa made no effort to accept your return, his hand swallowing your arm as he led you off to the side of the underground building. The chipped and graffitied concrete walls barricaded you both in. It was far from cosy, even with the mid-summer sun beating down on you both, and yet privacy slapped you hard in the face. 

He smiled down at you. A beautiful compliment to his prominent jawline.

“If it’s enough to buy a new car, then do it and you can pick me up at seven.”

“Seven?” You repeated.

“Yeah, I can pick you up for seven. What a perfect suggestion.”

When he gave you another smile, you had to give him credit. He was good.

But as quick as your intrigue had risen, it was cut off by the irritating sound of bells. 

“Are you going to get that?” You said, stepping back out onto the street.

His attention was quick to the screen. 

Doesn’t look good… not that you care…why do you care...

“Is everything ok–”

“I’ll see you at seven.”

He hightailed it out the narrow space, missing your tiny physique by inches. Confused and flustered, Oikawa shrank into the distance. His large frame soon swallowed in the ocean of suits and briefcases until you were left swamped in his thick blazer. 

How someone can work in such heavy material will never cease to amaze you. You turned back to the entrance of the underground, feeling in his pockets.

“Erm,” Your friend and colleague - Emi - finally added to the conversation. “...We do?”

“Willingly, Emi.” You peeked round from behind the drape. 

If it wasn’t jogging, then your neighbour - Hajime Iwaizumi - would still be up at the crack of dawn standing on your shared balcony, a cup of steaming tea warming his hands, its heat faintly echoing the way he carried himself – quietly and undeniably attractive in a way that didn’t demand attention but still garnered it. He was usually modest when he left the house… just not at six in the morning… or where your balcony’s joined. 

Irritatingly, your thoughts catalogued every detail with reluctance, though when he’d moved in three years ago, that same sight had felt less like a disruption and more like extra homework you didn’t mind staying up for.

To add to your prolonged dismay, his robe would always sit slightly open, revealing his well-defined physique, paired with legs that seemed to have only refined themselves since you first saw him. You knew that build didn’t come from simply coaching an Olympic volleyball team. No, there was no doubt, he had played the game before… and maybe, when he had time, he still did.

“What does it matter to you if he gets up at six – eight – or even mid-day?” Emi questioned.

“Because he stomps like he’s trying to go through the floor every time he goes up and down the stairs.” You snapped. 

You’d usually have more resilience than this, but between multiple classes of thirty children’s essays waiting for your judgement in red pen and a neighbour who seemed to announce every comings and goings of his apartment like it was part of your morning routine, your patience with shared buildings was wearing thin. Even the idea that other people were allowed to move freely, especially before you were even conscious, felt like it should have been illegal. At this point, you almost wondered why you even bothered with an alarm clock. It had become more decorative than useful, just another thing you kept setting out of habit.

Emi chuckled down the phone. “You think he’s doing it on purpose?”

“You don’t?”

“He’s a big guy, Y/n. Didn’t you also say he carries a massive bag with him for work?”

You scrunched your face up knowing where the conversation was heading. Emi always had a way of “stating the facts”, something you figured came with being a science teacher. Still, there was something about Iwaizumi you couldn’t quite make out. When you first met him, he’d been easy to label: kind, helpful… steady. Now those words didn’t sit right anymore, like calling a student well-behaved before you’ve seen what they’re like on a bad day.

“Maybe we should ask him to come do a class at our school,” Emi suggested, “I imagine attendance wouldn’t be an issue.”

“I’m leaving now.” You deadpanned. “And I’m choosing to ignore that for the sake of maintaining a professional working relationship.”

Emi smiled down the line. “I’m sure you will. You’ve always been excellent at ignoring things.”

Once you scorched your throat with another cup of coffee and grabbed your things, you locked your apartment door and headed down the stairs, already half-drifting into the morning’s lesson plan. Though before you could escape into your day, the inevitable ran into you, or rather, you ran into it. Hard. A solid impact, then large hands steadied your shoulders before you even had the chance to stumble back. You didn’t see him yet… you didn’t need to.

A damp, pleasant musk drifted into your senses, and for a split second you didn’t want to move. A larger, more practical part of you did. 

You recoiled.

“Do I smell?” Iwaizumi said after a moment of awkward silence. 

You didn’t answer immediately , only looked up at him, meeting those olive eyes like they were something far too distracting to examine properly during the morning light. 

He lifted his arm anyway, giving himself a cautious sniff.

“No!” You blurted and then cleared your throat. “No–you– sorry.”

With a quick dip of your head, you make a break for your car, only for him to fall into step behind you, like it was just a brisk walk.

“Are you ok?”

You nodded quickly.

“Y/n.” he said impatiently. “Wait.”

He was gaining on you. Your bag felt like you were hauling a second body behind you, however, everything inside you still screamed for you to move faster. You even considered dropping it altogether, until the thought of giving Iwaizumi an excuse to follow you to your workplace snapped that idea clean in half. After your conversation with Emi this morning, that was absolutely not an option. 

Relief and desperation tangled together as your car finally came into view, close enough to taste. Your keys jangled in your hand, the orange tag catching the dim light of the car park like a beacon of escape, and just as you reached it, the moment was snatched away. Your world pivoted on its heel, pulled back firmly.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He attested, his voice edged with a quiet frustration he couldn’t quite hide.

You scowled at him, though it didn’t seem to land the way you wanted it to. “I’m–”

“Don’t say you aren’t, because you are. I’m not an idiot.”

Just an asshole then?

“I’m late for work.” You said instead.

“You don’t start until eight.”

You weren’t sure why, but the sheer accuracy of his statement irritated you more than it should, like being corrected in front of a class when you already knew you were right.

“Just… for fuck sake, are you stalking me now?” The words snapped out before you could rein them in. “I’m not avoiding you. We slept together once and now you think that gives you the right to act like my boyfriend?”

You pulled your arm free from his grip.

“I wouldn’t know,” he grumbled, “you haven’t spoken to me since that night.”

You didn’t bother listening and turned back toward your car, the memory of that night flaring up with unwelcome vengeance.

“Trust me,” you said coldly, “you’ve said plenty.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If you could’ve been certain you’d never see him again, you might’ve let everything loose in one well-aimed slap, but for now, ignoring him would have to suffice.

[Like and let me know if you want a part 2 ;) ]

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For as long as you could remember, you hated hospitals. Countless of your younger years were spent watching needles and machines hooked up to your limbs. Tubes, oxygen tanks, and god knows what vaccines were pumped inside you and each visit promised to be the last. It was always the last one, right up until The Reckoning. Your feet marched down the surgical halls. If there was one thing you were sure to never get used to it would be the smell, the high-potent bleach mixed with the gentle tones of death. That and the stench of rotting meat, but that… that was something no one should get used to.

As you rounded the corner, you half expected to see the door to the nurse’s office closed but it wasn’t. You were always the first and certainly the last nurse to leave your station, not that you were bragging. If anything it just proved what the other nurses’ claimed behind your back to be true.

Your blood ran cold, while fear punched your lungs. Instinctively, you reached into your scrubs and took a secure grip on your knife.

“Hello?” You waited a few moments, your ear almost detaching from your body to listen close. “Is anyone there?”

A sudden shift of movement from behind the wall threw your heart into overdrive and spurred your body into a frenzy. In full preparation to lunge on the attack, the door swung open, a blonde-haired, pale woman greeting you with a sheepish smile.

“Y/n!” The woman sounded too chirpy for a morning shift, she also sounded short of breath. “What are you doing here?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Good morning, Lucy. You may be unaware of the term but I’m here to work.”

Lucy laughed, but it came out strained. “No offence but your shift doesn’t start for another hour.

“Yes, well unlike you I like to be prepared for my day, now if you’d please excuse me.” You tried to make your way through the small opening, but Lucy blocked it with her wide hips. Although you were comfortable in your own skin, the way her hips looked in the uniform made you a little envious, though once you saw the type of attention she garnered, that envy wasn’t slow to die like your dreams of a peaceful morning. Your stomach soured.

“For fuck sake, let me in!”

Lucy sniggered, her nose wrinkled like a brat from college. At this point, your stomach had curdled and it took everything within your power to not boot the door into the bitch. It was then Lucy tilted her head, revealing a deep red mark on her neck.

“Is that a bite?” You asked.

“Not that kind. Jesus, you should see the look on your face.” Her brows creased momentarily and then she smirked. “You may be unaware of the term, but that’s what is called a love bite.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. I just didn’t realise we were back in secondary school.” A mixture of thuds and a grunt turned both your attentions into the nurse’s office. Lucy turned her head slowly, almost as if she was expecting a beating.

“Why am I not surprised?” You said. “I’m getting a coffee. Be done in five.”

Not wanting to listen to anything else, you hightailed it towards the canteen. Lucy was a good worker when she chose to be, though if she put half as much effort in her job as finding her knight in bandaged armour, she would probably give you a run for your money.

Everyone in Broth had to work, that was the rule. Safety for labour. Whether it was a scout, nurse, doctor or even a scientist, as long as you were pulling your weight you were seen as an asset.

The kid was smart, but that could only get her so far. Not that you could say much. If there was one thing worse than hospitals it was the doctors; especially those who ran it. Corporate, authority stricken bastards who cared more for themselves than the folk who walk through the doors and yet here you stayed. Though as much as being in a hospital made your skin crawl more than the dead, the only thing worse was to come face to face with the plague that caused the downfall of mankind.

A waft of warm coffee caressed your nostrils, the canteen was quiet, the only people being the workers remaining from the skeleton crew. With each step you could feel your mouth salivate as the warm cup of energy was just within reach –

“Y/n!” A deep voice called out from behind the vending machines. Not that they were in use, but the placement had been strategically blocking off a set of double doors that lead to the prohibited wing. You turned to face

“Brown wants to see you.” She said,

Your feet carried you into the empty office, you’d only ever been here once before and that was 4 years ago when you first joined the hospital. In 4 years you only ever had one disciplinary and that was because they put you on a back to back shift. Straight from the night shift to the day. Luckily, it was Brown's head of surgery – Harvey Shinmen – who found you. He was everything Robert wasn’t; laid back, uncaring, talkative and most of all he had a full head of ice-white hair that matched his growing beard.

You hesitated for a moment, deciding whether to stay and wait for Robert’s unknown return or to go back to your floor until he decided to steamroll the corridor while bellowing your name. Glancing around, curiosity grew.

There should be enough time… right?

The entirety of the top floor was the private space for the Browns. Whenever his daughters came to visit, it wasn’t up for debate where he’d be, held up in the luxury of his private lounge, sipping on wine, maybe eating a few grapes while they all laughed in prestige. Your mouth soured whilst your eyes trailed over to where the elevator stood, only it was behind the wall.

The elevator was old, maybe even older than the hospital. Whenever you stood in it, you felt that the whole building was built around the rickety machine, if someone were to arrive not only would you hear it but you were sure so would the whole of London.

Fuck it.

You moved quickly and precisely, it had been a few weeks since your last snooping session but you were sure after scouring through the whole of the electronic system, your mother’s health report had to either be on Robert’s personal computer or in one of his cabinets. You chose to search the latter, already predicting his computer would require a password.

There were two main filing cabinets, one to hold any records on an ongoing court case and another of any that could be potential and or cases that were dropped. It was smart, organised. A small part of you felt envious of the man’s organisational skills, but that was as far as the positive feelings went, anger flooding in when you pulled the draw only to have it stop at the threshold.

Paranoid bastard.

You turned to his desk. There has to be a key… has to be. It was wishful thinking. After scouring the desk in its entirety you only came up with another locked draw at the bottom. You flopped your head into your hands. Another dead end… well, locked door.

A ding followed by a mechanical drone knocked you out of your pity party, the footsteps that followed forcing your heart through your chest.

“How many times do I have to say I am fine!” They sounded pissed. Odell’s voice echoed through the hall, and you practically launched yourself over the desk and into one of the brown leather chairs just as the door clicked open.

“I don’t care what my daughter says I –” His frown was quick to change into a courtesy smile. “Ah – Nurse L/n. Perfect. I was just looking for you.”

He opened the door fully and let himself in and a man around the same height followed him, though he remained partly behind Robert.

“Dr Brown.” You tilted your head out of politeness. “Lucy said you wanted to see me. Is everything ok?”

Robert made his way around to the other side of his desk and you followed him closely, moving onto the filing cabinets. All closed. You let out a deep breath. Robert liked everything perfect, if there was a spec of dust in the wrong place, he’d be sure to find it. He wore his usual dark navy trousers with a white shirt tucked in, not a single crease in sight. After he sat in his chair, you realised the faint hint of stubble on his usually clean-shaven face, his eyes searching the papers on his desk like a dog on a scent.

…Shit.

“Did anyone else come in here while I was gone?”

“No!” It came out quicker than you intended. You cleared your throat. “No, I didn’t see anyone.”

“You sure?”

He doesn’t believe you.

You nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.” Then smiled, “You wanted to see me?”

He reclined in his chair, his wide eyes bearing into your soul. From far away, Dr Brown looked like any other middle-aged man - balding, a bit of a beer belly when his social life extended to drinking with his friends, but from up close, there was something sinister that gleamed in his eyes whenever he spoke.

“I did.” He said.

You waited for him to continue, not wanting to accidentally put your own foot in your mouth, but with how long he was taking, you wouldn’t be opposed to putting it up to his –

“I have a new recruit. I'd like you to show them around.”

“Another?”

A man cleared his throat behind you, suddenly making you remember that Robert didn’t return to his office alone. Half twisted in your seat, you look back at the man standing a few feet behind you. He bowed his head.

“That would be me.”

The deep voice vibrated through your skin, skating a shiver down your spine.

Today is not my day…

Trying to salvage the situation, you stood from your seat and straightened your uniform, holding out your hand.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

He took your hand and he nodded his head.

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

You broke your eye contact. It had been a few years since anyone had made your stomach flutter like a teen, but the way the light reflected off the contours off his face coursed another shiver through you. He looked down at his hand and you followed, embarrassingly realising you still had hold of it. Letting go, you took a step back and turned to Robert, hoping your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

“I thought I was running the ICU audits today.” You stated, hoping to get out of having to spend the day with the hospital’s new piece of candy. “Can’t Kim give him the tour?”

Robert put on his thick-rimmed glasses, the same ones that made his eyes look magnified beyond proportion. A smile crept on his face. “I need someone to keep him in line.”

“I don’t mind.” Iwaizumi cut in, stepping next to you. It was clear he wasn’t a meek character, the majority of Roberts' company never were. “If Miss –”

“Nurse.” You cut in and Iwaizumi turned to face you before facing Robert again.

“If Nurse L/n, is busy I don’t mind making my own way around.” Iwaizumi’s arms flexed under his white shirt. A lustrous image of his arms holding you against the wall while he – you shook your head.

Eyes on the prize. Not on him.

“Is there a problem Y/n?” Robert asked, walking around the oak desk.

Your hands brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and you took a deep breath, looking between both the men. Odell folded his arms expectantly.

Authoritative dickhead.

Your gaze swung to his laptop which was now displaying a blue light. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to be high enough to have electricity.

“No problem. I’ll show him the ropes.”

Robert's smile returned. “Perfect. Now if you excuse me I have other business to attend to.” He waved you both off, closing the door behind him.

It was quiet. Awkward. Your eyes fall back on the laptop before returning to Iwaizumi. He was completely neutral, though his downturned mouth made him look like he was frowning. You weren’t quite sure if it was cute or intimidating, or both.