prince of tennis one shots 💘

Choutarou Otori x Reader- Warmth

It was the kind of cold that crept into your bones and refused to let go. The windows in your room were slightly fogged, your breath visible in faint clouds. You had the heater on, but it still wasn't enough. At least, not until Choutarou showed up with his usual soft smile and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Sorry if I'm a little late, (Y/N)-san," he said as you let him inside, his voice as polite as ever. "I got held up helping Kabaji carry a bucket of tennis balls to storage. It's freezing out there."

"You're just on time," you reassured him with a grin, stepping aside so he could enter. "But wow, it is cold today, huh?"

He nodded, rubbing his gloved hands together. "I thought my fingers were going to fall off."

You giggled. "Do you want some tea?"

He nodded gratefully. "Yes, please."

Once you handed him a warm cup and the two of you had settled at the low table in your room, you turned the heat up just a bit more. He sat across from you, eyes flicking over the open textbook.

"Shall we start with classical literature?" he asked, pulling out his notes and adjusting his glasses.

You gave a playful groan. "Do we have to start with the hardest subject?"

He chuckled, a soft sound that made your stomach flutter. "It's not so bad once you get into it."

A few minutes passed as you both studied in silence, flipping through kanji readings and jotting down notes. At one point, you leaned forward to tuck your leg under you, and your loose tank top shifted slightly. You didn't notice anything at first—until you caught Choutarou looking at you with wide eyes, face turning scarlet before he quickly averted his gaze.

You tilted your head. "Choutarou? You okay? You're totally red."

He flinched slightly. "I-I'm fine! Really! J-Just warm tea, that's all..."

You tried not to giggle. He was such a terrible liar. But adorable.

After a little more time passed, you leaned back with a sigh. "Ugh, I'm getting bored... and cold again."

Choutarou glanced up. "Really? I think it's gotten warmer..."

"Still feels chilly to me," you said with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Hey, can I sit next to you? You always feel warmer than my heater anyway."

His cheeks reddened instantly, but he nodded, scooting over slightly to make room.

"Of course," he said softly. "If it helps."

You crawled over to his side and sat so close your shoulders were touching. Choutarou stiffened slightly, unsure of what to do with his hands.

"Choutarou," you said sweetly, nudging him. "We should sit even closer. You know, for maximum heat efficiency."

His voice cracked slightly. "M-Maximum...?"

You didn't wait for him to process it—you scooted in until your side was pressed completely against his, and then gently rested your head on his shoulder.

"(Y/N)-san... w-we should probably focus," he mumbled, clearly flustered.

"Just for a little while?" you whispered, looking up at him with your best pleading expression. "Please?"

He gulped and nodded slowly. "Alright. Just a little while..."

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist in a snug hug. He tensed for a moment, then gradually relaxed, arms coming up to hug you back shyly. The two of you sat like that for a while, his warmth slowly chasing away the chill in the air.

"You're so warm," you murmured, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Choutarou's voice was almost a whisper. "You're... really cold."

You giggled again, then tilted your face up to look at him. He was already looking at you—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, but not pulling away.

So, you kissed him.

It was soft and hesitant at first, your lips barely brushing his. He froze—then kissed you back. Gently. Carefully. As though he was still trying to understand that this was real. That you were real. His hand rested lightly at your side, fingers trembling just a bit.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless. He stared at you, eyes still dazed.

"(Y/N)-san... y-you're so bold," he said, voice cracking slightly again.

"And you're so shy," you teased, bumping your forehead against his.

He gave a small laugh, clearly still flustered, but smiling.

The two of you eventually returned to your study books, though now your head was still on his shoulder and your hand rested in his. The warmth from earlier hadn't left—it had only grown stronger.

And in that cozy little space, surrounded by notebooks and softly steaming mugs, you knew:

You just loved the warmth he gave you.

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(UPDATED!!)