NIGHT SHIFT 

wouldn't it be nice? - suna rintarou/f!reader (haikyuu!): fluff but suggestive at times, established relationship, talk of babies/families/pregnancy, committing to the bit is all fun and games until the bit commits to you, tw: light miscommunication since some of u guys hate that, let the record show this was NOT written for his birthday, i didn't even KNOW it was today ok, i will not be taking questions at this time (or ever)

You know exactly what started it.

The problem.

It was some sappy commercial you saw on TV one lazy Sunday afternoon.

You rarely even watch television—not proper cable television anyway—preferring the simplicity of streaming services in this modern day and age. It's a complete fluke that you happen across it at all while you and Rintarou rest sprawled across his couch in the afternoon sun, your feet tucked underneath his thigh. You wouldn't even go on to remember what the commercial was for; all you remember is the perfect, cherubic little baby at the centre of it, and the way that it made your heart melt.

You let out a long, wistful sigh once the advertisement transitions into the next. "I want to hold a baby."

It piques his interest. That stupid, completely unremarkable comment that you'd come soon to regret.

Rintarou pulls himself a little more upright at his end of the sofa, shooting you a mischievous look. His expression might seem placid to most people, impassive even, but you know it, and him, and all his minute eccentricities too well to be fooled.

"I'll give you a baby," he muses, angling his body over yours on the sofa with his arms caging your waist. You draw your legs back instinctively—hips perpendicular to your thighs and heels to the bottom of your bum—at the first sign of trouble.

Your lip curls, and you lift your sock-clad feet so they press flat against his chest, pushing him back with all the strength you can. He hardly budges, but you expect as much.

"Ew, Rin," you snort, head lolling to the side to idly watch the next useless commercial on TV as it unfolds, “gross."

Suna pauses, a hand loosely circling your ankle, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. There's a look that you don't recognize that flitters across his face. His grip tightens a little, his thumb sweeping down over the round protrusion of your joint and back again.

"Gross?" he asks softly.

"Yeah, gross," you say, pulling your foot out of his hold. It takes a bit of effort, because he doesn’t seem to want to move, but you roll over onto your side and wiggle out from under him to rise up off the sofa. You shuffle into the kitchen for a snack, and you feel his eyes on you as you go.

But that was just the start.

You’re not sure if you just never noticed, or if the universe has a deeply perverse sense of cosmic humour, but after that Sunday afternoon, it seems like there are babies everywhere you go. 

And if not actual living, breathing babies, then it's all matter of things that are decidedly baby-adjacent. Itty bitty onesies on display at the store you two are shopping at. Sweet souvenir plushies at the Aquarium that are meant for little ones to hold. Diapers, formula, and various other baby necessities are advertised in the posters mounted on bus stops, on train stations platforms, and on flashing digital billboards. 

And every single time, without fail, you see them when you’re with Suna. 

And every single time, without fail, he looks at you and waits for you to meet his gaze. 

You’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding it, honestly. But then he’ll always make some comment. Point it out. Make it obvious.

“Look at that baby’s tiny hand. I bet our baby will have my hands.”

“Can you believe that babies are really this little? Do you think ours will be this small?” 

“If you were buying these for our baby would you get the yellow or the—“

“Trick question,” you cut Suna off, snagging the yellow pair of training chopsticks (complete with a little ducky on top) out from his hands and shoving them back onto the display he’d just plucked them off of. You don’t allow yourself to linger for too long on how cute they really are. “Babies don’t use chopsticks, and also we’re not having a baby.”

You continue down the aisle of the market, a familiar pain throbbing just behind your eyes that Rintarou seems so uniquely skilled at eliciting. Your face is hot too, but that’s probably just from the frustration. After a moment you hear his feet shuffling along after you, and the two of you finish your grocery shopping in relative silence.

You’re used to putting up with all of your boyfriend’s other annoyances and oddities, so this is just another one to add to the ever-growing list. But this time, something feels a bit… different. 

The two of you stop at a vending machine for coffee on your walk home since it’s cold out. Suna has the largest of your two reusable grocery bags looped over one of his arms, and somehow while you’re digging for change in your wallet he manages to weasel the other one off of your arm and onto his own, too. 

“There’s a coffee shop right around the corner, why are you stopping here?” he asks, watching as you carefully make your selection from the humming machine in front of you. You press the button of your choice, and a can of cafe au lait clunks down into the waiting chute below. 

“The metal can keeps my hands warmer,” you explain, sticking a few more yen into the machine and choosing Rintarou’s favourite, too. His choice makes the same descent yours had, and you crouch down to retrieve it for him, holding it out to him in offering as you stand. 

He blinks at you.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, shaking his head a little. “Hands are full, anyway.”

You balk at him soundlessly for a moment. “Give the other bag back, then!”

“Nope,” he replies, making a point to enunciate it clearly in a way that you know he knows drives you crazy. He takes a step in the direction of your apartment, and you have no choice but to stick the can of coffee he’d declined into your coat pocket and chase after him.

It does a great job of keeping your hand—tucked into your pocket and wrapped around it—warm as you walk, though.

Nearly back at your apartment, your can of coffee drained and properly disposed of, a little ball of fluff waddles past you on the sidewalk, heading towards the entrance of a nearby park. You and Rintarou both pause, equally confused by what you’ve just spotted.

Behind the amorphous little thing is a couple, maybe a few years older than you two are, trailing not even a metre away. You watch as they coo and fawn over it as is wobbles unsteadily towards the open stretch of grass ahead. They call it pet-names, and try to convince it to turn around for mom and dad so they can take a picture.

Oh.

A baby.

Probably a little older than a baby given the whole… walking thing. But it’s still so tiny, even in its big, puffy coat, so they can’t be very old. The hood is pulled up over the child’s head, and you realize upon closer inspection that it has—

“Teddy-bear ears,” Rintarou says, cupping his fingers over his mouth and blowing warm air into his hands. “That’s so cute.”

“Yeah,” you say with a soft smile, watching as the child toddles along in their fluffy little teddy jacket.

Suna must have put the grocery bags down at his feet at some point when the two of you stopped walking, and when he pulls his hands back from his face, you see how the tip of his nose has gone pink from the cold. He dips down in front of you, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you up-close. 

“What?” you ask him nervously, a hand fluttering self consciously to your face. 

His breath leaves his mouth in wispy clouds as he tilts his head to the side. He’s so close that the warmth brushes against your lips like an airy, indirect kiss. You wonder if he can taste the coffee that clings to yours.

“What?” you repeat yourself again, a little more insistently this time. You reach up and pinch either of his cheeks between your thumbs and forefingers—stretching the pliable flesh outwards in an attempt to get him to back off a bit. His rosy cheeks are cool under your warm touch.

“Do you think we’d make a cute baby?” Rintarou asks, though the question is a little garbled thanks to your grip, and your stomach clenches involuntarily. His hands, and his frigid fingertips, reach up and rest over your own where you’re still pinching his cheeks—though your vice has eased slightly.

“You can barely even make an omelet,” you huff out as heat rises in your cheeks, pulling your hands out from under his and looking away. “Like I’d ever trust you to make a baby.”

“People make them all the time by accident, you know,” he remarks, rubbing at his stinging cheeks where you’d been pinching him. “I’m sure I could do it on purpose if I really set my mind to it.”

You dip down and grab the grocery bag he’d taken off your hands earlier, hiking it up onto your shoulder.

“Why are you so obsessed with this stupid baby joke?” you ask him exasperatedly, following it with a long, aggrieved sigh that you can see as you breathe it out.

He looks at you for a moment, his brow pinching in the middle. His nose is still so pink, and it makes the green in his eyes stand out more. 

You watch how Suna’s lips part, like he’s going to say something, but then they press together in a thin line again without uttering a word. He picks up his grocery bag with one hand and sets off in the direction of home, and this time you feel a little sheepish as you follow after him.

The apartment is quiet when you return home, and it stays that way as the two of you unpack the groceries in your kitchen side by side. You bought more than you usually would on a weekly grocery trip, all because Suna’s been staying over more than he usually does. But there’s a sudden frostiness that seems to have creeped in from outside, as if clinging to your coattails, and the chill has now settled between the two of you. 

It makes a strange sort of anxiety prickle under the surface of your skin, tender like a bruise. It makes you wonder if half of these groceries are going to go to waste.

“I’ll shower first,” Rintarou mutters without turning towards you after he puts the last pantry item away and closes the cabinet.

Stress sits heavy in the pit of your stomach when he doesn’t look at you. It’s intentional, you know it is. Suna’s favourite hobby is staring at you—he’s told you that himself many, many times. But he doesn’t even spare you a glance before he shuffles off towards your bedroom. 

You stand in silence in the kitchen, as though that weight in your gut keeps you anchored in place. You can hear the rustle of Rintarou’s clothes hitting the hamper. You hear the bathroom door close. You hear the spray of the shower turn on. 

You hear your heartbeat. Loud and wet in your ears.

You’re being ridiculous. You know that. You’re all worked up over nothing. 

This was all just some stupid joke that he was being annoying about in the first place. That he found every possible opportunity to bring up. 

You aren’t even sure what’s upset him so much; uncertain as to why you being annoyed about one of his blatant attempts to annoy you seems to have caused him offence.

You curl up on your sofa as Rintarou showers, picking at the fraying cuff of your hoodie as you similarly pull apart every second of your memory from the walk home from the market in an attempt to identify what could possibly have gone wrong. You’re thinking about the can of coffee—left sitting, unopened and room-temperature now, on your kitchen counter—when you hear the shower turn off.

The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly as you wait for your sullen boyfriend to emerge, but when he does he still seems resolved to avoid you. You wait on the sofa, your fingers stilled in the motion of fiddling with your sleeve, anticipating that he’ll come ask you to blow-dry his hair, just like he always does.

He doesn’t. 

The hairdryer clicks on in the other room, and the sound makes you feel sick. 

“Rin!” your voice leaves you involuntarily, without an ounce of conscious effort. You sound panicked.

The hairdryer clicks off immediately, and Rintarou appears in the doorway to your bedroom—half-dressed and hair half-dried—in an instant. His eyes are alight with concern.

Your hand had flown to your mouth as soon as you called out for him, too late to actually muffle the sound. But it stays there as you look at him with shocked, notably-guilty eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, eying you suspiciously.

“Nothing,” you murmur, your fingers still resting lightly over your lips, you avert your eyes. “It’s nothing, sorry.”

He hesitates in the doorway for a moment, and then turns to head back to the hairdryer.

“It’s just—“

He pauses when you speak again, one of his hands resting on the doorframe he’s lingering beneath—neither in nor fully out. 

“—you’re mad at me.”

You watch his shoulder blades as your words hang in the air between the two of you. The chill in your apartment, unlike it had been outside, is only proverbial—but you half expect to see wisps of vapour slipping out on the edge of your breaths.

“I can’t figure out what I did wrong.”

Suna looks at you over his shoulder, his already vulpine eyes narrowing a little further. Not in irritation, but consideration. For all the strangeness between the two of you today, you can still recognize that much in his expression. 

“I’m not mad at you,” he finally says, and you hate how relieved you feel at so few words. Hate even more how him turning back to face you makes the weight in your stomach lessen. That as he approaches you on the sofa you feel the air warm with every step.

Rintarou perches on the edge of your couch, a full cushion between the two of you as you sit there quietly. Both of his feet are on the ground, but yours are drawn up onto the sofa with you, facing him. Slowly your feet creep forward, slipping your toes under his sweat-pant clad thigh.

Suna’s head droops forward, and he lets out a breathy, wry laugh.

“What are your theories so far?” he asks quietly. 

Your head tilts to the side in confusion.

He peeks over at you, peering up at you from the corner of his eye.

“What do you think you might have done wrong?”

You hum quietly, pursing your lips slightly.

“Well, I… I thought maybe I got you the wrong coffee. I didn’t ask, but you always choose that one, so I just thought…”

Suna clicks his tongue.

“Nope.”

You huff a bit, staring at your hands in your lap. “Well… there was that baby at the park.”

You feel Suna’s eyes on you, but you’re suddenly too wary to meet them. He doesn’t tell you you’re wrong though, so you continue. 

“And I said you can’t make an omelet.”

He laughs a bit again, and you know that wasn’t it either.

“Are you upset because I said that I didn’t think you could make a baby?” you ask, peeking up at him. “Rin, I’m borderline militant about taking my birth control. I obviously don’t think you’re impo—“

Rintarou tips his head up a little further, meeting your gaze. Caught in his stare, it’s suddenly like your words die before you can get them off the tip of your tongue. Slowly, he reaches out towards you, taking one of your fidgeting hands and holding it in his. His touch is warm now, in contrast to what it had been at the park. He lifts your hand up to his mouth.

Delicately, he kisses your fingertips. His lips brush against the digits, over your knuckles and up to your palms. He presses your hand to his cheek and looks at you with the most pitiful gaze. It makes your chest ache. 

“I don’t like it when you say that,” he says reticently. And for all Rintarou’s height and weight and sheer breadth, he sounds so impossibly small.

“Say what?” you ask him, and your voice is quiet too. Vulnerable.

He leans his flushing cheek into your hand, holding it to his face and closing his eyes as he nuzzles into your touch.

“That you wouldn’t have my baby,” he whispers, “that you don’t want it.”

You resist the urge to pull away. It’s an instinct you can’t explain: a desire to keep him at a distance, to always laugh things off, to make a joke out of very real feelings. 

“Because I do.”

You blink.

Suna opens his eyes and looks at you, and for the first time you see the very real, very not joking pain in his eyes.

“I want that with you.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re frozen. You stare at him, completely still, stunned by his sincere confession.

“What?” you manage to squeak out. 

Rintarou closes his eyes again, breathing out a little sigh. He pulls your hand from his cheek, folding your fingers down so they’re hooked in a loose fist around his thumb. He brings your hand to his lips, not quite a kiss but close enough to call it that anyway. 

“Not right now,” he murmurs into your knuckles, lips brushing against you as he speaks the words. “But someday.”

You’re still so shocked that you don’t know how to respond. He peers at you, hand still held to his lips, his eyes more resolved than they are wounded now. 

“And I want you to want that. But I don’t know how to make you want it too.”

Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, resonant and palpable. Heat has crawled all the way up your face now, and you’re fairly certain your hand has gone clammy, but Rintatou passes no comment even if it has.

“Do you think you could?” he asks you quietly. Sheepishly. Earnestly. “Could you want that? With me?” 

You pitch yourself forward suddenly, and Rintarou lets out a little grunt of surprise as the two of you topple back into the sofa. You hide your burning face in the crook of his neck, that smells like your body wash and shampoo but somehow so much better, clutching onto him like your life depends on it. Suna seems shocked for a moment as he finds himself flat on his back with your weight on top of him, and his body is stiff as he processes it. After a few beats of your too-loud, too-telling heart pass, he finally eases. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tightly to him.

“You’re so stupid,” you grumble, your eyes squeezing shut tightly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The genuine laughter that’s hiding just behind the words. He hugs you a little tighter. “Probably.”

You stay like that for a while, basking in the warmth of Rintarou’s body and the rhythm of his breath.

“You love me though,” he says quietly, “so that reflects pretty badly on you.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, and find him barely holding in a laugh. You can’t help but laugh with him. Can’t help but enjoy your favourite sound.

Rintarou scoops you up in his arms again, tugging you into his lap. He presses featherlight kisses to the corner of your jaw, and you fiddle with his long, lithe fingers. He sighs, but this time the sound is at ease. His damp hair tickles your face as he rests his forehead against your temple, nosing at your cheek.

“Hey, Rin?” you murmur as you run your thumb over the space between his first and second knuckle on his ring finger. You think about the kid you saw at the park in the fluffy jacket, and the besotted parents trailing along behind it.

He answers you with a content, if not slightly curious, hum. 

You turn your face towards him, and your noses brush. Rintarou’s lashes flutter as his gaze turns a little heavy-lidded. You can feel his breath on your lips, that’s how close he is. You inch forward until the space between you is almost completely gone.

And just before your lips meet, you smile.

“I do think we’ll make a cute baby.”

my kind of woman…

synopsis. you see a different side of gojo no one else has seen before

characters/pairings. highschool satoru gojo x highschool fem! reader

genre. fluffy fluff, angst

tw. none

a/n. this was actually supposed to be a whole diff concept but i accidentally shifted the story entirely 🧍🏻‍♀️/ inspired by mac demarco’s “my kind of woman” <33

satoru gojo.

who is gojo satoru? well it’s simple. gojo is your classmate at jujutsu tech. he is the strongest sorcerer in jujutsu history, baring the six eyes and limitless technique.

he is known as the mortal god amongst the jujutsu world. a man who is capable of wiping out the entire country, world even.

of course you knew that, it’s an obvious answer. but for some reason, there’s a feeling about him that’s lingered in the back of your mind.

you’ve been at jujutsu tech for awhile now. a second year along gojo, geto and shoko. you’ve gotten along with all of them surprisingly smooth. it shocked them how fast you adapted to gojos annoying quirky personality. he’s not the first rodeo you’ve dealt with.

but as time passed and you spend more and more time around gojo, you’ve noticed something about him.

currently, you and gojo had went out for some kikufuku after your mission. geto and shoko declined, saying they were exhausted. but you accepted cause…why not???

there wasn’t a clear answer but because of the people similar to gojos outgoing personality in your past, you immediately felt drawn to him. a nostalgic magnetic feeling that’s oddly comfortable??

if you said that out loud, everyone would definitely look at you like some kind of deformed curse.

after you both got your kikufuku, gojo suggested going back to the school.

you both arrived and he just plopped himself down the steps in front of the building that is the entrance for the dorms.

you crouched down next to him and plopped down as well — not as rough as him in an attempt to not ruin your uniform.

it was an odd moment of silence. he wasn’t speaking at all. the sounds of the night filling your ears instead of whatever annoying ramble he’d normally be going on about.

you don’t question it and continue to snack on your kikufuku. after a few minutes you get worried and turn to glance at him.

he wasn’t eating his kikufuku. he was just staring up at the star-littered sky with his forearms on his knees.

you try to take a better glance at him. but when you do, it’s nothing you would’ve expected.

his bright blue eyes are empty and vacant, with little to no emotion at all. suddenly a wave of sadness travels through your body.

he looks so…sad

satoru gojo…sad???

the worlds strongest sorcerer, sad??

you are hit with a hard realization. like you’ve seen his person for the first time. you turn to look at the ground and think about it more.

no, not satoru gojo.

you see satoru.

satoru. a boy, who is a human just as you are. an awkward teenage boy who is pervert like all teenage boys, who laughs, who has interests and tastes, who has thoughts. a human being, equal as you are.

the realization sets in and you feel like you’ve been introduced to a whole new world.

that realization shifts into sadness. you feel sadness for this poor boy who society has deemed into a god with no feelings to control. this poor boy didn’t ask for these powers.

you feel a stare on you as your mind in drowned in thoughts. then you feel a small poke on your shoulder.

you turn to see gojo staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed and a confused expression. you slowly bring your hand to touch his, testing if he has his infinity off.

“hm…y/n?” he questions. his calm expression soon turns into shock.

you turn your body to him entirely, sitting on your knees. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him as tightly and lovingly as you can.

you nuzzle your cheek in his soft messy hair and whisper, “I’m sorry…”

you felt his body shiver and tense as soon as you said that. he gulps, loud enough for you to hear it.

he slowly and hesitantly wraps his arms around your waist. hands on your hips, slowly traveling and resting on the middle of your back.

he feels so warm in contrast to the chilly night air. you can feel him squeezing you a little tighter. he leans his head against yours before gently letting you go. you let go and rest your palms on your knees.

“uh so…what was that for huh?” he says in a gentle voice you’ve never heard before.

“…mm…just felt like it,” you answer with a smile while shifting your legs back to the ground.

he huffs out a sarcastic giggle.

“you weirdo…”

you smile as well, unaware of the blushy thoughts flying across his mind.

little did you know. that moment marked the day he would start to fall completely and utterly in love with you.

Nike Air Force 1 Low “Valentine’s Day” (2023)

i just saw the rb you posted from my gojo post and i want to say that i would give u my last chicken strip. pls omg 😭😭☹️☹️💕

and i you my darling…i would even save you two chicken strips 🥰❤️🫡

AND IT WAS SO GOOD and very much articulated my thoughts

part two: to pretend: to make as if; to put on an act.

@xiaosprettygf for you my darl

It had been two years.

Two years since the wedding, two years since you’d seen either Rina or Megumi. Two years since your heart shattered, and the box you put your shattered heart in had shattered, and the pieces all run through a Shattering Machine of the very best kind. Today, while you shuffled to your mailbox in your outdoor slippers, sipping on a travel mug of chamomile tea (although you weren’t planning on going anywhere), the rain pattered softly on the glass window panes. You felt happy. Happy is an interesting word. It was a mood, temporary, yes, but lately that happiness had crept up on your life and insisted on moving in. You had just started med school, not usually known for inspiring happiness, but you felt productive, proud of where you’d gotten yourself. You made a new friend, a peppy, excited girl named Aika. Her favorite color was yellow, and recently, after moving in with you, your apartment had brightened considerably. Music was always filling the then-depressing silence, a cream yellow speaker in the shape of a sleeping cat mumbling out soft cello or bursting with the latest pop. You went to get the mail for the both of you, reaching into the mailbox and pulling out the usual assortment of junk mail and advertisements. And a pastel green envelope, with perfectly printed handwriting that you knew oh so well. Your eyes prickle immediately, and you blink them away. You were strong. You were independent. Yet you knew who had written that envelope. You remembered the way Rina dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s and f’s. Running your finger over the slightly indented print, you breathed in deeply and tried to think of what to do. Returning to your apartment, you tucked the envelope into the junk drawer and tried to forget. This particular sunday afternoon, you had no plans. Putting on another one of Aika’s new pop playlists, you put on a bright yellow apron and started to make red velvet cupcakes, your’s and Aika’s favorite, in an attempt to distract yourself. When the cupcakes were in the oven, you sat down on the couch. Then, getting up, you went to the drawer, then before touching the handle, turned back to sit down, and a couple steps away from the couch, turned back again. 

“You’re pathetic,” came an amused voice from the doorway. Aika was standing there, in all her bucked hatted glory, eyebrows raised. “I’ve been here for two minutes watching you cosplay a tug-of-war rope.” She went to the drawer and pulled out the envelope, her eyes twinkling. Then she read the return address and frowned. “Oh.” Then, after a pause. “You want me to read it for you?” You nodded, and watched as she carefully slid a nail under the flap of the envelope. Her eyebrows knit, her face scrunching together more and more as her eyes moved down the letter. “Oh.” She said again, “Oh.”

“What is it Aika?”

“We, Megumi and Rina Fushiguro, humbly invite you, Y/N, to our baby shower!” Aika began monotonously, “this Saturday at 4, at our home. Please RSVP and you will receive the address in an email! Dinner and drinks provided, presents appreciated. We hope to see you there!” 

She looked up at you, gauging your reaction. Remember that shattering machine? It had come back, and it had just crushed those seemingly-unable-to-be-crushed-further pieces of your heart double time into microscopic dust. 

“Y/N/N,” Aika started, but you cut her off. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’m ok. It’s been years, I’m over it already,” you took a deep breath. “Really,” you added, seeing Aika’s unimpressed look. “I’ll get packing.”

If only you weren’t pretending. 

As you all know. I work at an elementary school. And for Christmas, a bunch of kids got tamagotchis. Well. One girl fucking FORGOT her tamagotchi at school. And I saw it and was like oh fuck. So I took it home for the weekend and now am saddled with the responsibility of keeping it alive until Monday afternoon when I see her again.

only | tooru oikawa

pairing: oikawa x reader

tags: fluff, friends to lovers

word count: 2.0k

i'm pretty sure inez is on hiatus so i won't tag her but this was for her :D

“okay,” you nod, laughter leaving your lips as you turn to your friend.

oikawa’s gaze shifts to you at your place around the small fire, “what’s up?”

“you know what i regret about my final year in high school?”

he quirks a brow, “what?”

“that i never got to fall in love.”

a beat of silence follows your words, the fireplace feeling as warm as ever as the two of you on the rooftop of your apartment building. despite summer approaching faster than ever, there was still a chill in the night air, one that made you pull the small blanket draped over your figure closer.

it’s your last week of school, and you and oikawa always had this tradition of sitting on the rooftop, turning on the small fireplace, and just talking. with your busy schedules, especially around the end of the school year, it grew hard for you to see each other. so during your first year, the two of you made a promise to return to the rooftop before your final week of school, to light the fireplace no one else in the apartment building seemed to use and to just talk.

but now it’s your last week ever of high school, the last time you and oikawa would venture up to this rooftop together.

there’s a sense of nostalgia to it, the idea that you might never come back up here with him, the thought that this fireplace would go back to normal and be completely untouched by the other residents in the building. it reminds you a bit too much of your past few years of high school, and what a ride they were.

the boy meets your eyes once more from his place on the adjacent couch, a blanket of his own wrapping his figure and a can of soda in his hand. “what do you mean?”

“it’s just,” you start, eyes flickering towards the calm flames in front of you, “there’s this idea of the perfect high school experience, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect prom date, and the perfect relationship,” you explain. “the two of you go to dinner every week and spend nights at each other’s houses and go on these perfect dates and share umbrellas when its raining.”

“you know that’s just in movies right?” oikawa cuts in.

“i know,” you nod with a small sigh, “most of high school is already romanticized as it is. but,” you pause. “i just wish i got to experience even the real life version of high school love.”

“it’s really nothing special,” oikawa shrugs, taking a sip from his soda can.

“what?” you tease. “your one girlfriend did that much of a number on you?”

“okay enough about her,” he waves off, rolling his eyes as he leans back into his chair. “you and iwa do nothing but tease me when it comes to her.”

“it’s kind of funny in my head,” you think. “you jumped into a relationship with her incredibly quick. you only knew her for what? a month?”

he nods wordlessly.

after all, he’s known you much longer.

“that’s not a lot,” you hum. “i always thought you were the type to approach love rather cautiously.”

oikawa quirks a brow at your words, “really?” you nod. “interesting,” he hums, “how so?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble. “you just seem like the type.”

“what?” he laughs, “you’re just basing this off of some kind of vibe you’re getting?”

“yeah, pretty much,” you mumble. “i mean you’ve got this ego that hides how you truly feel, i kind of assumed it would be the same towards love ya know? like walls hiding away your heart from the one person you truly wanted to give it to.”

and that leaves him at a loss for words.

“sorry,” you mumble, “hit a little too close to home?”

“what do you think?” he questions with an annoyed sigh, but you know there’s no malice behind his words. you knew him better than most, and that involved being quite familiar with the side of him he often hid from others.

“why’d you even date her anyway?” you hum, leaning back into the small chair, gaze still locked on the fire. “i mean you never really brought her up to iwaizumi and i until after you got together.”

“for the same reason why you have regrets,” he lies.

“because you wanted to experience high school love?” you question.

he nods, knowing that if he said anything you’d see right through him. you were the only person that truly could.

his ex’s confession just seemed to line up with when he got supposedly friendzoned by you. he still remembers what you said to iwaizumi that day. platonic soulmate, you called him, the words seemed to ring through his head to this day. he was your platonic soulmate.

but oikawa couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just be your soulmate.

after all, he’d done his best to give you all of the high school experience that you could ask for. you both hung out more often than not, you spent more nights at his house than you probably did at yours, he was your date for dances, even coming up with elaborate posters just to make you smile.

that word platonic just seemed to mock him, it’s a word he just wanted to get rid of it completely from your description of him. you only saw him as a friend, and nothing more. he hoped his ex could help him move on, yet all she did was make him feel worse.

“the worst part of it though was that she dumped me,” he sighs.

“all because of volleyball too,” you hum before looking at him. “i mean she had to have known that you’d spend more time playing volleyball,” you reason. “you’re literally team captain and the star player.”

he shakes his head, “definitely not the star player,” he rather honestly retorts.

“oh shut up, you literally are,” you ignore. “that reasoning though was just...odd.”

that reasoning was a lie.

oikawa told his ex about his feelings for you, and his apology signified the end of the relationship. because even after a couple months of being with someone else, even after a couple months of going on dates, bringing flowers, and loving someone else, he still couldn’t help but think about you. but there was no way he was going to tell you that. so he lied, he lied to the one person who could supposedly see through him.

except you had yet to do so when it came to this.

“it was,” he sighs. “but what can you do? the past is in the past.”

“and we have nothing but the future ahead of us,” you finish before meeting the boy’s gaze, “what about you? have any regrets?”

of course he does.

oikawa nods rather nonchalantly, “i do.”

“do share,” you hum. “but only if you want to of course.”

“i wish i went to nationals at least once,” he mumbles.

“i knew you’d say that,” you sigh. “do you regret going to school here?”

his eyes widen, “what? no, absolutely not,” he answers. “i love it here, it’s where iwa is, it’s where my team is.”

it’s where you are.

and the fact that he leaves that out is another regret he adds to his list.

“i see,” you hum. “it would’ve been nice to watch you guys play at nationals.”

he quirks a brow, “you’d go?”

“of course i would,” you nod. “i mean it’s a free trip to tokyo right?” you laugh.

and oikawa swears it’s music to his ears.

“any more regrets?” he asks you. “you gotta get it all out there before it’s too late right?”

“i have a few,” you hum.

and he hopes that one of them has something to do with him.

after all, he’s running out of time with you, and he still has a couple more things to say to you.

“i wish i asked that guy out myself my first year,” you list. “apparently he liked me back?”

“he did?” oikawa questions a bit louder than he’d like.

“he did,” you smile. “maybe he could’ve been my high school romance.” there’s a beat of silence before you continue. “i wish i didn’t spend all my time at home and went out more, i wish i didn’t ruin things with that one girl, i wish i actually spoke to my friend and fixed things instead of leaving him behind, i wish-”

there are tears in your eyes before you can even realize that you’re rambling, unpacking the baggage you had yet to deal with.

and oikawa’s watching you unravel before his eyes, each “i wish,” sending a chill of his own down his spine.

“i wish,” you sniffle. “i wish i got to see my uncle one more time before he died. i wish i didn’t start that fight with my friend. i wish i didn’t lose as many friends as i did,” you quickly wipe the tears in your eyes, watching oikawa’s face fall at the sight of your tears.

he’s rushing instantly to your side sitting down next to you, the pads of his fingers wipe away your tears. your head rests on his shoulder and his arm instantly goes to your back, pulling you a bit closer.

“i wish,” your voice is soft, it’s shakes and trembles and oikawa swears his heart shatters.

“i wish i told you i love you.”

and now there’s a knot in his stomach.

“i wish i told you sooner.”

it tightens.

and there’s a silence that lingers, one filled with your soft sniffles and the crackling of the fire next to you as oikawa rubs circles into your back. your head still rests on his shoulder, breath a bit more steady as your tears slowly stop, relief washing over you at the fact that you didn’t need to feel anymore regret towards that last item on your list.

you’ve been terrified of telling him for years, constantly watching him being adored by fangirls and wishing you could measure up. it’s quite pathetic, you think to yourself, that you did nothing but pine for him all these years yet still wish for that high school romance.

if you said something, it could’ve happened.

and that realization only adds salt to the wound.

oikawa’s voice is soft when it breaks the silence.

“you wanna know what i regret?”

your voice is barely above a whisper, “what?”

“i wish i told you that i love you too.”

and his words instantly get your attention.

you pull yourself off his shoulder, “you do?”

“it’s my biggest regret,” he nods, a soft smile on his lips. “although, i don’t think we need to regret it too much now.”

“we have one week left,” you mumble.

“that’s more than enough time for us,” he answers, the distance between you both slowly decreasing. “one week to have your high school romance.”

and a small laugh from you follows his words as oikawa closes the gap, his lips finally meeting yours. the sounds of the crackling fire and your racing heartbeat rang through your ears as you cupped oikawa’s cheek, not missing how he leaned in impossibly closer to you. there’s a laugh that leaves his lips as you two pull away, resting your forehead against yours, feeling as if you’re on cloud nine.

it’s euphoric.

he’s euphoric.

your head rests on his shoulder, “now how long have we been regretting this?” you tease.

“longer than you’ll ever know,” he answers. “but it’s okay, now we’re just making up for lost time.”

it’s your last week of high school, the last time you and oikawa would ever be on this roof together following the tradition you’ve kept for the past three years. but this time, as you looked into the fire once more with his arm over your shoulder, there’s no regret in your system. no “i wish” or “what ifs” clouding your mind. instead, there’s hope, hope now that your feelings are finally out there, hope because he feels the same way as you.

hope that this would be the love you always wanted.

thank u so so much for reading!! reblogs are always appreciated <33

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.