thefabelmans
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It’s one of the many things Tooru despises about Tobio — his ineffable, endless, unmovable determination. His ability to set his mind to something and know that he will get it by annoying the other person so much they give in in the end. Well. Most people. Tooru never did end up teaching him that serve. Not that he needed to — even what isn’t given to him Tobio finds a way to get.
A long, painful, drawn-out sigh, and: “What do you want?”
“I…” There’s a moment of hesitation on Tobio’s part, as though he wasn’t expecting Tooru to capitulate so quickly. It’s nothing but a moment though: had Tooru not been looking at him so intently he would have missed the way his throat bobbed, or his lower lip got stuck in between his teeth; it’s gone with a subtle, self-assuring nod and the unfurrowing of brows, and then, “Your jersey. Will you give me your jersey?”
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“Well, who do you want to kiss, then?”
Tobio glares. It’s ineffective. He crosses his arms and pointedly looks away from Oikawa, his cheeks still are not back to its natural color and burn in a crimson rouge. If Tobio thinks of kissing someone, his mind always drifts back to… to… Brown hair. Brown eyes. Peace signs. A soft, pink mouth with a tongue sticking out. Mocking. Cruel. Kind.
“I don’t know. No one. I just don’t want to be left behind.” A beat. “Hinata is going to lead if he does it first.”
Oikawa sighs dramatically.
“Fine, Tobio-chan, your dear Oikawa-san will come to the rescue! No need to beg!” What? Tobio’s head snaps back towards Oikawa, his mouth hanging open, then closed, then open again as he tries to verbalize the single word that spins and crackles on the inside of his skull. “I will kiss you!”
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“Hey Cap,” Koutarou says, taking an abysmally large sip of his sake. “I always wondered… you and To-to have known each other for a long time, and we know of his… setter predilections. So. Did you two ever fuck or what? You take his virginity?”
The first wave: Tooru wonders if he has heard him correctly.
The second wave: Tooru wonders if he has had more to drink than he thought and has now begun to have auditory hallucinations.
The third wave: “… Eh?” Something grumbles in Tooru’s stomach, rattles the inside of his bones, sends a chill down his spine. Setter kink? Virginity? Tobio-chan? TO-TO? Tooru scoffs, nose upturned, and face masked in disdain or disgust. “As if. Even Tobio-chan, stupid as he may be, is not stupid enough to think he’d have a chance with his great Oikawa-senpai!”
or: Oikawa Tooru is haunted by the discovery of Kageyama Tobio's setter kink (and why it does not include him).
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There’s a pit in the middle of his chest. He should probably acknowledge it. The alarm will start to ring again soon. He should probably turn it off. Tobio presses the soles of his feet against the soft fabric of the carpet – grounding. He presses it until he feels it on each and every available spot of skin – toes, and soles, and middle, and over and again.
Today, he is twenty-four years old.
And he’s alone.or: a kind of gentleness that’s born in the winter
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“I can’t believe you confessed to me in an airport.” Tooru says. His fingers are intwined in the raven locks of his boyfriend’s hair.
“I did not. Stop being ridiculous.” Tobio huffs, rolling his eyes as his semi-permanent scowl makes itself known in his face. Tooru laughs.
“You’re annoying.”
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Their love is made for movie screens.
Bookmarked by thefabelmans
19 Oct 2025
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Kageyama picks up the phone after the fifth ring. “It's half past three in the morning.“ is the first thing he says to Oikawa in three months, words a little slurred. “I was sleeping.“
“Tobio.“ answers Oikawa, who is blessed with a selfserving selective memory and will forget about the timezone problem immediately. He leans back from where he is sat on the ground until his back hits the wall. “How is Italy?“
There's the sound of shuffling on the other end of the line. “Italian.“
All roads inevitably lead to Rome.
Bookmarked by thefabelmans
19 Oct 2025
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It took over a decade, two Olympics, and a tiny carton of spilled milk for Tobio and Tooru to learn how to be lovers outside of volleyball.
Bookmarked by thefabelmans
19 Oct 2025
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“Okay, okay, wait, don’t look at me like that,” Tooru laughs, bringing one hand up to cup Tobio’s cheek. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Will you?” Tobio says. “You did just beat me in my own country in front of the world, you know. It’ll take a lot of begging to get back in my good graces.”
“Will it?” Tooru lilts, and he feels so ridiculous. It’s so big and bright that he thinks for a second that it’ll burst through the domed ceiling above them and reach all the way to the moon—and then back, because he’s always been one for cliches. He unfurls his hand. “Even if I ask you to marry me?”
Marriage comes for them slow and winding, from Olympic circuit to honey-gold wedding ring. They have time. They'll make it.
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Bookmarked by thefabelmans
19 Oct 2025
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“I’m Kageyama Tobio, but you can just call me—”
“Tobio-chan,” Tooru says decisively, a swift cut off to what Tobio had been about to say, and his voice dies in his throat, suffocating before a lack of oxygen. “It’s so nice to meet you.” His hand falls out of his hold and Tobio’s returns limply to his side, fingers held out in remembrance of the shape and finding thin air.
Tómas is looking at them inquisitively. “What is that name you just called Tobio, eh, Tooru?”
“It’s a Japanese thing,” Tooru says dismissively, turning and giving him a wide grin.
In another universe where Tobio and Tooru never met, their paths cross when Tobio goes to San Juan instead of Italy.
Bookmarked by thefabelmans
19 Oct 2025