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sixosix · 1 year

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no warnings ? profanity tho. roommate!suna ft. Tension mmmm

“hm.”

you scowl at suna, feeling defensive even when he’s just silently eyeing you. “what?” you demand after five seconds of a one-sided staring contest.

he tilts his head, eyes flicking up and down your figure. you instinctively cover your upper body as if you fear he’s acquired x-ray vision overnight. he hums, meaning he has come to a conclusion. you’re not sure if you want to hear it.

“that’s my shirt,” suna says.

you pinch the hem and pull it closer to your face to inspect the design, dutifully ignoring the way suna’s eyes zero in on the sliver of skin that’s exposed. “oh,” you say belatedly, “you’re right.”

suna scoffs, walking closer and closer until you’re stuck between him and the wall.

“what do you want?” you scowl, pushing him away by the chest with a finger. “you want me to strip right here?”

you don’t appreciate the way suna takes two seconds longer to answer. “no,” he says eventually.

“okay, what do you want, then?”

suna smiles—a little thing that somehow feels different from all the ones he’s shown before. you’re not sure why your heart flutters this time, holding your breath as he opens his mouth again. he whispers, “maybe you should do your laundry so you don’t have to steal shit from me.”

you give him a hard smack on the arm as he cackles. “i do my laundry, you ass!”

“what?” suna chuckles, still so unbearably close to you. “were you expecting me to say something else?”

“no, i was not.” yes, you were.

suna grins, tilting his head at you curiously. “i don’t mind,” he says. “you look better in it anyway. cute.”

and then he steps back and walks off while he might as well have kissed you stupid. you wonder if that means you can steal the rest of his shirts.

“cute,” you scoff mockingly under your breath, hiding your warm face with the back of your palm.

#606:HQ #606:INRZK #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintarou x reader

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sixosix · 2 years

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𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔: 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑

it’s a little unfair, suna thinks, when you asked him to be your roommate.

he sees you, pajamas loose, shoulder peeking out, sleepy eyes blinking slowly at him, your cheeks puffed slightly — and then he thinks, life is so unfair. because you’re standing before him, a spitting image of everything domestic, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“you look stupid,” he says, knowing he means the opposite.

“shuddup,” you say through a yawn, and suna has to look away to hide the smile threatening to split across his face. “’m hungry. aren’t you?”

“yeah.” before you could say what suna knows what you're going to say, “you should cook.”

you make a noise that suna can only discern as extremely displeased. you frown at him, bottom lip jutted out with dramatic exaggeration.

“you’re so lazy,” suna remarks.

“i’m tired, is what i am!”

“boo hoo.”

but then you’re walking towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling sweetly, murmuring, “can you cook for me, rintarou?”

you’re really unfair, suna thinks as he grunts and shuffles to the kitchen, your soft laughter echoing around the room and in his flushed ears. but it’s okay.

#606:HQ #606:INRZK #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro x reader

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sixosix · 2 years

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kita shinsuke: love letters

gn!reader, kita is a piece of shit and you love it, confessions

“what the hell is this?”

kita obediently looks up from his book, eyeing the envelope on your desk. he glances back up at you, confused. you’re looking at it like it’s offended you personally, your face twisted in what could only be described as scandalized.

“a love letter,” he says, because that’s what it is. you think he starts mumbling something about if the heart stamped on it somehow made you think otherwise.

“yeah, okay,” you humor him, still in disbelief. it makes him frown. “why is it on my desk?”

“because... i assume it’s addressed to you?” kita closes his book, now giving you his full attention.

“what? no way. doesn't maia-chan sit next to me? they probably meant to put it on her desk-- here--” you pause, reading the words on the front. to: y/n, which indicated that they didn’t mean to put it on maia-chan’s desk.

“oh,” you say eloquently, fingers twitching.

damn. it's almost like this person knew you were going to say that.

kita has the nerve to look smug when you look embarrassed.

“is it… is this a death threat? am i in danger?” you let your voice drop to a whisper, studying the envelope, pinched between two fingers as if you’re ready to throw it away at any second. “what if this is a letter from some criminal and they need my fingerprints all over the evidence!”

“that's illegal, y/n-san,” kita says, because obviously, it is.

you squint at the offending piece of paper. “exactly. i don't know who the culprit is! they didn't sign it because i’m the one who will be suspected.”

“that sounds… far-fetched,” is all kita can offer to say. “is a love letter really that shocking for you, y/n-san?”

you feign a wince, clutching your chest with a whine. “ouch!” kita doesn’t even blink; he stares blankly, waiting for an answer. “is it that obvious i don’t look like the type to get love letters?”

“that’s not what i meant.”

“so cruel, kita-kun!!!”

kita smiles; at least one of you is enjoying this situation. “are you going to open it?”

“i will! just-- maybe when i walk home. in case it's a bomb, i don't have to risk our classmates.”

“very noble, y/n-san,” he praises as he stands up from his seat and ceremoniously swipes all his books up to his chest.

you blink up at him, now having to crane your neck. “you don’t wanna see the letter?” you could’ve sworn he seemed really interested in you opening it.

he shakes his head, still polite as ever. “i'll be at the gym if you need me.”

that’s a strange thing to say as a goodbye. “o...kay?” everyone knows kita shinsuke will be at the gym anyway. maybe he’s just reminding you in case you actually end up caught in a crime scene and he can protect you with his volleyball-ready arms.

he has really nice arms. you might be staring at it for too long.

“bye, kita-kun!” you say distractedly. “see you tomorrow, okay?”

he bows his head in one quick nod. “see you, y/n-san.” and then he walks away.

what a strange man. you love it.

as you turn back to your desk, you glare hard at the envelope. the flimsy piece of paper drove kita away from what could've been a nice, long conversation you two would usually hold! and it's all because he's too respectful to watch you open a damn love letter.

you sigh. “if it's a joke, well that's on me. if it's not--” you carefully pull it open, “--then it's nice to know i'm somewhat desirable.”

you read the neatly written letters on the paper, eyes flicking across the page.

you drop the paper.

you dropped your jaw, too, probably. it's hard to tell when the only words blaring in your mind are holyshitholyshit and whatthefuckwhatthefuck and that's why he told me that!

without another word, you shove the letter in your pocket -- making sure it won't be too wrinkled, of course -- and speed off.

you slam open the gymnasium doors, feeling a little hysteric. you probably look the part, too, with your eyes wide and your breathing ragged.

“kita-kun!” is the first thing you declare.

everyone stops to stare at you, surprised. a ball drops from mid-air, squeaking against the tiles.

“oh, sorry,” you’re still somewhat sane, having the decency to look sheepish. at least the coach isn't here yet; that would've been problematic.

though, it's quickly replaced by a wide-eyed squeak when you notice some of the boys are only halfway through taking their shirts off.

kita skillfully flings two shirts to suna’s direction, who slaps the other one on atsumu’s face; the blond miya yelps while the other miya snickers.

kita smiles. “did you read it?” he asks, so patient and soft as if he didn't give you a heart attack moments prior. so sweet and evil, kita shinsuke.

“kita-kun,” is all you can manage to say; still, it's breathless, and on the verge of tipping over a cliff.

he seems to understand. he nods once at his teammates. “practice for a while without me. i'll be back in a few minutes.”

then he jogs his way to you, stops when he's right beside you, and only moves when you move.

“get it, captain!” you think you hear someone whoop before the doors close.

god, you feel your heartbeat every-fucking-where. the letter is heavy where it's been kept, a reminder, a cue, a confession -- for fucks sake you feel like you're dreaming.

“if--” you breathe in sharply; you need to calm down before you make a fool out of yourself with just his eyes on you alone. “if this is some sort of prank, please tell me right now.”

kita tilts his head. so fucking cute goddammit you hate him. you want to kiss him.

“i mean it, kita.”

“do you think i would make fun of my feelings like that?”

you groan. “that's the thing! i know you wouldn't! it makes you all the more convincing as a prankster.”

“it's a good thing i'm not trying to be one, then,” kita smiles wider, he smiles, so unbelievably handsome you can't wrap your head around the mental image of him writing a love letter to you.

“so it's real…?”

“yes.”

“and you meant it?”

“yes.”

“...good!” you exclaim, struggling to keep your composure when you’re so overwhelmed with the need to tackle the boy. “because… because-- i won’t let you take it back, y’know!”

“i wouldn’t.”

so earnest, you muse.

“did you also mean it,” you start, breath hitching when his eyes glint knowingly, “when you said-- um, the--”

“that i want to kiss you?” he laughs at the surprised noise you made at the back of your throat. “yes. i did, and i do.”

“good,” you breathe, eyes round as you stare up at him.

“good,” he whispers back, and then his lips are on yours.

you two stay there for a while, with kita holding your face and your hands… on his arms. it's gentle, sweet, frustrating, and it's so unbelievably kita that your head spins and you feel your knees almost give out.

with all your might, you manage to pull away. “k-kita-kun,” you laugh breathlessly when he chases after you.

he leans back, amused. “y/n-san?”

“you have really nice arms.”

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sixosix · 2 years

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suna rintarou: forehead kisses [2/2]

gn!reader, fluff, confessions, part one link, wc 1.4k

ft. atsumu the useless wingman and suna the jealous bff-possible-bf-question-mark

maybe telling miya atsumu, of all people, about your little routine with suna is not the brightest idea you’ve had. but in your defense! you truly didn’t think it was anything worth babbling about.

“you’re sayin’ that he does that to ya every day,” atsumu deadpans. “do ya hear yourself right now?”

“i don’t understand the problem!” you admit, cheeks burning with something akin to embarrassment -- though you’re not sure why. “is it really that surprising that best friends kiss each other on the forehead?”

“it’s suna.”

“is it really that surprising that said best friend suna rintarou gives me forehead kisses?”

“yeah,” atsumu doesn’t waste a second replying, firm with conviction. “it’s suna, y/n. i don’t know if i’m the one bein’ tricked or--”

“you’re not being anything! especially being helpful,” you cry out in exasperation, hands thrown into the air. “listen, how about you just forget i let it slip that rintarou is the doting type of best friend--” atsumu scoffs at that, but doesn’t say anything, “--and we can go back to the gym with free minds and spirits.”

“that sounds stupid,” atsumu says. “you will never be free from this.”

“shut up.”

atsumu hums. “are you okay with it, though?”

the mirth from his tone disappeared, then came seriousness that atsumu rarely used. “what do you… mean?” you ask hesitantly.

“i know yer fat fuckin’ crush on that guy, dummy.”

startled at his statement, you whip your head around, worried that someone would hear stupid atsumu and his stupid claim. no one is, but that doesn’t make it any less okay for him to just blurt it out in public like that -- much less blurt it out at all.

“ohmygod atsumu!” you hiss. you feel rage bubble up in your stomach even more when he snickers at your outburst. “shut up, it’s not-- i don’t-- you’re so dumb--”

“but i’m not wrong,” atsumu offers. you haven’t noticed that he started walking back to the gym, with you trailing behind him instinctively. “just ‘cause he’s unaware doesn’t mean you hafta suffer for it.”

you frown. he’s right. it’s not as pleasant to have suna unknowingly mess with your feelings, yet it wasn’t like it’s his fault, nor yours.

“but it’s just a kiss on the forehead,” you argue. “friends would do that to each other all the time! it doesn’t mean anything to him.”

“it does to you, though, right? and who’s to say it doesn’t mean anythin’ to him?”

“i hate you sometimes, miya.”

“i’ll relay that message to ‘samu,” he says, yelping when you whack him on the head. “what? resorting to violence ‘cause ya can’t wrap your head ‘round the fact that he has the saddest crush on ya too?”

“stop saying that!!!!”

before you even know it, you’re back at the doors of the volleyball gym and suna is walking towards the both of you. there’s a split second where he glances at atsumu, a flicker of a glare, before he looks back at you.

“where did you go?” he asks. there’s a slight pout on his lips; you’re positive he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, which makes it cuter. dammit.

“refilling water bottles,” you say. which is true, and would’ve been a faster process if some dumbass didn’t give you a crisis over your hopeless crush. “here you go.”

suna takes the bottle, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you, contemplative. you blink back at him, confused. suna narrows his eyes at atsumu, eyes silently accusing him of things you can’t understand.

atsumu scoffs. “i wasn’t botherin’ y/n, promise.”

both of them stare at each other for a moment, before atsumu groans and starts to walk away. “fine, fine! so damn overprotective. i was just tryna be a good wingman, damn…” the rest of his words are no longer decipherable now that he’s out of earshot.

huh, you think. “i didn’t know it was that easy to get rid of him.”

“you should try it sometimes,” suna says, mirth in his eyes, though his face is carefully placid. “but i don’t mind scaring him off of you either.”

“my knight in shining armor, really,” you mock, earning a small smile from him. “well, you better drink up before you pass out cold and the miya twins start flocking around.”

“it’d take more than dehydration to take me down,” suna drawls, moving closer. you don’t flinch. or at least, you try not to -- you don’t want to scare him away by giving him the wrong idea.

“didn’t you pass out and drooled all over my shoulder without hesitation when kita suggested you cool off?” you tease, hoping it hides the way your eyes widen in alarm when he takes hold of your wrist.

he stares at your hands for a second -- maybe a second too long -- before he stares back up at you. “not my fault you were comfortable,” he says easily, like how everything is to him most of the time, as if you’re not losing your mind.

“t-that’s. that’s-- thanks?”

suna grins.

usually, you’d be more composed than this. stupid atsumu making you look at his totally-platonic actions in a different light.

“let’s go outside?” he offers.

you nod, relieved for the change in topic. “yeah! you got all your stuff in there right?” he nods; you pat his head the way one does with a cat. he doesn’t recoil but his face says he’s not pleased. “good good! i want some ice cream, therefore we should get some ice cream.”

suna lets you lead him away from the gym after waving your goodbyes to everyone, though he’s acting stranger than usual.

“y/n,” he says.

you come to a halt, turning around to see him with an expression that’s hard to read. “yes? do you not want ice cream…?”

he smiles, rolling his eyes playfully. “come here,” he says.

your eyes brighten, knowing exactly what it means. carefully, and slowly, you stand right in front of him, expectant.

he kisses your forehead.

you explode.

or at least, you think you did. you feel as if your senses are on overdrive, pathetic stammers spilling out as you clutch your forehead -- as if you’re protecting yourself from another slam of a truck to your heart.

it’s not the first time he’s done this, obviously. he knows how much it calms you down. but the way he did it out of nowhere, much less with loitering students around to see, gives the opposite effect.

and suna laughs. laughs, deep in his chest, but quiet enough where it almost sounds like a snicker.

you attack him with a series of light punches on his arm as he continues to chuckle at you. “you’re so-- evil! so evil, i tell you. spawn of satan-- no, that’s an understatement!”

without hesitation, he responds, “and you’re cute.”

that’s it. you give up.

with a defeated whine, you drop to the floor, balancing on your feet, hiding your face on your hands with it pressed on your knees. you look pathetic, hunched up like this, but at this point, suna might as well have reduced you into a pathetic puddle.

“too much?” suna asks, bending down to match your height. you don’t bother looking at him, only grunting in response. he laughs quietly again.

“you suck, rintarou.”

“you love it.”

you pause, letting his words sink in. so he does know? after about two seconds, you peel your hands from your face, feeling warm all over when he takes one of your hands and laces it with his.

the patient smile on his face is cruel. “you shy again?” he teases, but not unkindly.

“i like you,” you tell him instead of replying. “i like you, you know that?”

he nods; it’s not mocking. but… happy. the smile on his face is genuine. “i know that. i like you, too, you know that?”

“i…” you feel your heart burst. “i don’t-- didn’t. i didn’t.”

suna hums thoughtfully. “that’s not good. can i kiss you?”

“that’s--” you search for something in his eyes; any trace of mockery, insincerity, anything, but he’s open with the way you see how soft his expression has become. “...yeah. you can-- or, may. you may.”

he inches closer. you close your eyes instinctively, a bit terrified because you have no experience whatsoever in the art of kissing. anything under lip-to-lip action.

he kisses your forehead.

and then he laughs at your offended expression.

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sixosix · 2 years

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suna rintarou: forehead kisses [1/2]

gn!reader, fluff, comforting you, wc 359

part two

you’re freaking out.

you’re freaking out and you know it because everyone’s freaking out. ojiro has been offering water, osamu has been offering his onigiri, and even atsumu is offering mindless commentary -- all to distract you from the fact that you’re freaking out.

“let y/n breathe,” kita says, not raising his voice, but enough to have all members backing off in an instant. he looks at you. “you gonna be okay?” you smile and refuse to say anything else, but kita nods anyway.

kita glances at suna, who has been staring at you the entire time, itching to just stomp over and-- and… he doesn’t know yet. ojiro nudges suna after he’s been given approval from the captain.

suna jogs over without hesitation, mouth in a grimace -- you almost laugh since you’ve never been the target of that face before. “let’s go outside?” he offers, reluctantly reaching out to hold your wrist as he leads you away when you agree.

you breathe in. “sor--”

“don’t,” he cuts off sharply. you don’t flinch, but he sighs, tone gentler. “don’t be sorry. whatever you’re thinking about isn’t dumb if you’re worried about it, and-- don’t give me that look-- even if i find it stupid.”

you almost cry, with tears pooling in your eyes along with his words. he doesn’t know it, but it means the world to you. “thanks,” you sniffle, voice hoarse. “i’ll-- i’ll try to, um, calm down. sorry, again.” he makes a face of annoyance and you want to laugh, knowing he’s displeased.

suna, though, catches you off guard when he pulls you in and presses a kiss on your forehead.

“i-- whu-- why did you--” you squawk intelligently, face burning with the warmth of longing, especially on the spot where he kisses you. you reach for your forehead, and suna fails to hide a smirk.

“don’t be sorry,” he says simply, carefully watching your reaction. his words betray the amusement in his tone. he hums thoughtfully. “are you okay? maybe you do have a fever.”

“you know what you did!”

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sixosix · 2 years

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suna rintarou: dodged kisses

you wanted to tease him by pretending to dodge his kiss. suna takes this very seriously.

fluff, established relationship, slightly suggestive comments; nothing happens tho

you feel him before you hear him.

“g’morning,” you greet, smiling when you feel warmth pressing on your back along with arms snaking around your torso. “sleep well?”

he hums. “it’s way too early,” he mumbles into your neck; you shiver. he’s grumbling nonsense.

you grin, “are you mad because you woke up cuddling a pillow and only realized it was a pillow when you kissed it?”

suna makes a face, a very disgruntled one that lets you know you hit the nail right on the head, and it makes you cackle harder. “don't even. you take advantage of my half-asleep state with your relentless bullying.”

and then he spins you around, craning his neck to kiss you--

--which you dodge with a turn of your head.

suna stares. blinks once, only. and then he makes a face that looks like it's in the dead center of betrayed and offended. “what.”

“i’m still mad at you, don't forget that,” you chide, every so petty. at his confusion, you gesture at the bruise on your neck.

suna fails to hide a smirk. it looks so handsome and stupid that it drives you insane. “that?” he says like it hasn't caused you horror when his teammates tease you about it. “i'll give you worse if you don't let me kiss you.”

you gasp. “you will not!”

“ooh, yes i will.”

you know he's lying. but he's also as stubborn as you to not give up on his quest to achieve his kisses of the day from you. you try to be inexorable; it fails miserably at the sight of your handsome boyfriend.

and then he attacks.

hands ruthlessly tickling you where he knows it affects you the most brings out a half-delighted, half-horrified squeal from you that is painfully embarrassing. but he loves it, and you can tell by the devious look on his face.

“rin-- hah-- tarou! ohmygod, stop! it's just a damn kiss!”

he pauses, looking at you, genuinely insulted. “don't talk shit about your kiss like that, who do you think you are?”

you hold your ground, stubbornly and a little bit playfully recalcitrant. “someone who refuses to look at you after that stunt you just pulled, asshole.”

“but y/n.”

“go away.”

“sweetheart.”

dammit.

“shut up, man-child,” you snarl, and then pull him close for a dizzying kiss, fierce and loving. suna melts into you.

he looks pleased even as you pull away, a content flush on his cheeks. “love you. come back to bed?”

#606:HQ #606:INRZK #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro fluff

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sixosix · 2 years

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𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄: 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓

# fem!reader, 4+1, fluff, no-chill!reader and super-chill!shinsuke the trope, wc 1k

one.

kita shinsuke first met you when you kicked someone’s sandcastle and made them bawl so loud that his ears started to ring.

he never understood why you did that, glancing back and forth between your scowl and the pile of sand now wet with tears. with how angry you looked at that moment, shinsuke was almost convinced that the roles were reversed, and decided right there that he wants to find out why.

all the kids ran away at the mere sight of you (“shh! she’s near!” like you’re some kind of boogeyman), but kita shinsuke has never been one to let first impressions affect him—and naturally, this led to empty seats around you and kita being the one to take them.

at first, shinsuke was worried that you would cry, too, with everyone avoiding you with their tails between their legs (he found out that he doesn’t like it when his ears ring, thank you); but you didn’t seem troubled, even a little bit.

“why did you kick his sandcastle?” shinsuke asked. some kids who heard gasped and glared at him as if scolding him for not wording it properly—but, well, how else can he say it any better?

“he was making fun of this girl—a grade below us,” you explained, simple and straight to the point. “he made her cry. he deserved to have his stupid sandcastle ruined.”

shinsuke didn’t hear about that part; he doesn’t understand why people didn’t ask the same question, too.

“do you know her?”

the look you give him is sharp, daring him to make a mistake. “do i need to?”

ah. what’s this feeling?

shinsuke shakes his head. “no, i was just curious.” and a: “thanks” because he’s polite. satisfied with the answer—and to himself for thinking right about not steering clear—he turned back to the board.

he felt your eyes on him the entire class, and he found himself feeling funny.

two.

because teachers realized that they could never find a way to make the class get along, they made shinsuke the one to sit next to you. always. and in group projects, he’s consistently present in the list of members—sometimes, it’s a little unnerving. but he didn’t really mind, he supposes.

rumors are just rumors. shinsuke respects you, after your first interaction.

you seemed to notice it, too, because day by day, you started showing parts of yourself he never thought would be there.

“hey, kita, look!”

like the gleam in your eyes when you tease him, asking him if he did today’s homework, and if he said yes, you’d ask him to let him help you—pretty please with a cherry on top, kita-kun? and if he said no (it was once where he tried for an out where you wouldn’t shoot him that round-eyed look), you’d gasp and tell him you’re rubbing off on him.

shinsuke, obediently, turns his gaze to see you pointing at a tv screen. it’s a volleyball tournament.

“volleyball seems pretty fun, don’cha think?” you ask him, elbowing his arm slightly.

kita finds himself asking, “do ya wanna play?”

“how the fuck did you get so good already!?”

“it’s… easy?”

three.

you’ve matured over the years the same time shinsuke began learning new things by joining the volleyball club.

you still are known for being the rowdiest in the class, but shinsuke has instilled manners and obedience into you just by existing.

at the same time, shinsuke finds himself longing for something more. he doesn’t know what it is, and doesn’t know if it’s even about volleyball—he’s concluded that your impulsiveness is also getting to him.

during official matches, shinsuke was on the court for little to no time. and it was fine. he supposed that his flashier teammates would assure their win anyway.

a little repetitive, but shinsuke likes it that way for things like this.

he didn’t know how, but volleyball became a part of his routine.

after school, he’d walk side by side with you as you take him to the club, shinsuke would say thank you for the company, and you’d somehow find a way to make him agree to let you come over his house to play some rounds—and shinsuke always said yes, because you’re the reason why he found love in this sport anyway.

he wonders when you became a part of his life this much.

“shinsuke!” and, oh yeah, you two are on a first-name basis now; and kita still doesn’t understand how natural and right it’s become, “your coach talked to me earlier.”

shinsuke hopes he’s not frowning. and hopes his coach didn’t talk into stopping you from walking him to the club anymore. he likes your refreshing presence before he gets his head in the game.

you’re never repetitive, always a burst of something new before shinsuke falls back into the routine. and shinsuke likes that.

“he asked me if i want to be your club’s manager.”

shinsuke’s heart leaps to his throat, but he keeps his expression carefully poised. “what did you say?”

you grin at him, sliding open the doors yourself as his teammates gawked. “i said yes. we’ll be walking here together now, too, huh?”

he doesn’t mind.

four.

it’s third year; kita doesn’t often join the matches unless absolutely necessary, and he understands his role very well.

yet even when knowing that, you’re standing and leaning over from the seat, eyes trained on him while you cheer his name over the rumbling of the music and the squealing of his teammates’ names.

“captain, isn’t that yer jersey?” atsumu points at you, as you beam and wave at shinsuke excitedly.

shinsuke feels…funny. like he’s just finished the warmest meal of his life and he feels it on his entire body; like his relatives just praise him for the littlest thing and his heart is bursting with pride; like the time when you first met.

like he just realized how much it means to him that you chose him, of all people.

even now.

he doesn’t know what face is making, but it made all of his teammates gape at him with genuine surprise.

“it is,” shinsuke agrees, smiling at you.

“i knew the manager an’ captain were too buddy-buddy!”

“eehh, really? just when i was thinkin’ of wooing ‘em.”

shinsuke laughs, “we’re not together.” he lowers his head on purpose to keep his gaze sharper. “but don’t try, because i’m doin’ it first.”

before any of them can squawk at their captain’s tone, the whistle shrieks—and the match starts.

he makes you wear his jersey more, despite the coach lecturing them about favoritism.

he has his routine; sticks to it with the fervor you’d only ever see on shinsuke’s face when he was announced captain of his team. he’s happy with his “ritual”, because to him, things like this will never grow old.

he doesn’t know how, but somehow you wormed your way into it and stuck stubbornly as if you’d been superglued to him.

he also doesn’t know how, but even with your volatility—explosiveness, coming from all directions and you can never guess where to next—he found himself liking you too much to be bothered about it.

you crashed into his life, where it was perfect and planned, and knocked his castles over to make a home for yourself in it. and he let you.

and, well, he’ll make a new one with you too.

shinsuke studies the silver band on his finger and wonders if this is what they meant when they said his efforts would be rewarding him someday—because it sure as hell feels like it.

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sixosix · 2 years

Text

kita shinsuke: just get married already!

babysitting your niece, your niece is a little shit, ft. the hot and handsome kita shinsuke, not beta read, wc 1.1k

“are you sure about this?”

“i told you, y/n-san, i want to.”

“yes, but--” you nearly stumble over your feet when your knuckles brush with his; kita shoots you a questioning glance. “it’s not too late to back out now.”

the more you speak, the more it sounds like you’re convincing yourself rather than him. it's almost endearing, if not worrying that you have such little doubt he wants to be around you. because he really wants to be around you.

kita continues walking; continues brushing his hand against yours to see your eyes go round on him again, “it’s no big deal.”

“you say that now, but once you get to meet her, you’ll be begging me to take you back home.”

“that doesn’t seem likely,” kita says; as an afterthought, drawls, “an’ also a bit dramatic.”

“i wish i’m being dramatic.”

kita finds this funny as fuck, and he can’t stop smiling at you. but he doesn’t say he finds it funny as fuck, because you might start pouting at him and looking all sad; he’s not sure if he can handle that right now.

with one last, dramatic sigh, you knock on the door with a specific beat, before calling out, “i’m here!”

a little girl, no older than four or five, pulls the knob open with an excited grin. “y/n! y/n!”

despite your early warnings, kita watches your face melt into a soft smile when the girl in space buns runs up to tackle you. “nene-chan,” you intone, “didn’t i tell you to check before you open the door?”

nene shakes her head. “i did check! you did the secret knock! i knew it was you!”

“but, why were you the one to answer the door?” you look around the house. “isn’t kenji here?”

“i told papa i’m a big girl and i can open the door myself, duh.”

you don’t seem too amused. “...right. i’ll be talking with your papa later.”

kita, who had been quietly watching the interaction with a small smile, startles when nene stares -- no, glares -- pointedly at him, hands on her hips and everything. kita feels like he should say something to pass this unsaid test, but he doesn’t know what to say -- so he decides to simply stay quiet.

then she takes a look at his hair and beams, all traces of hostility disappearing. “papa didn’t tell me yer bringin’ your boyfriend!”

“no!” you blurt at the same time kita barely manages to school his expression into one that hopefully doesn’t look too surprised. “no, no. you got it wrong. it’s exactly why i didn’t tell him, he’s not my boyfriend.”

nene looks betrayed and confused. “what? but ya told me he had hair like that! an’ that he has a really pretty face! i think he fits the deskip-- description.”

“yes, i know. stop talking about that,” you look pained, “but when did i ever tell you that kita-kun is my boyfriend?”

kita feels himself grow warm. maybe it’s embarrassment. maybe it’s fondness.

“you always talk about him!” nene sounds annoyed, crossing her arms. “kita-kun, kita-kun, kita-kun! you sound like papa talkin’ about dad!”

there’s a flutter in his stomach. is he having a heart attack or something? that would be a shame.

“i do not,” you hiss, pushing her inside further into the house. “don’t say that!”

kita looks over at you, amused. “i didn’t know you felt that way, y/n-san.”

“kita!” you chide, flustered. “stop teasing me, you ass!”

nene snickers while kita feigns an expression of horror. “don’t be so vulgar ‘round nene-chan, y/n-san.”

nene nods. “i will tell papa about this.”

“please don’t tell your papa anything about what happened today.”

kita didn’t realize he was chuckling until your eyes slice back to him, a silent warning. he doesn’t feel intimidated in the slightest -- not when all that’s in his head is saying “cute” -- but he mimes a zipper sliding across his lips.

you turn back to nene, patting her head. “come on, have you eaten breakfast yet?”

nene squints her round eyes. “hmm… what’s y/n cooking?”

kita smiles. so her answer would depend on whether or not she would like what y/n would cook. this family is a little bit crazy. he is already fond of it.

“your favorite,” you tell her proudly.

nene’s face bursts into joy. jackpot. “i haven’t eaten yet! gimme the food! …please!”

“alright, i will,” you laugh, throwing kita an apologetic look before you slip silently to the kitchen.

kita thinks you look nice in this domestic atmosphere. he wonders why he’s thinking about it too much.

nene calls for him, patting the space on the living room’s couch next to her. she stares at him expectantly, one sharp eyebrow raised. despite being older, nene holds the power here, so kita obeys and sits next to her.

kita wouldn’t say he feels uncomfortable with nene inspecting him like this, but it is a lot. his feelings wouldn’t change anything, though, so he stays soundless, both his hands on his knees.

“d’ya like y/n?”

kita shouldn’t feel thrown off by the question. (he does anyway.)

“of course. we’re close friends.”

“hmm…” kita does not like that look on her face; it’s the same one you wear when you’re planning something sinister. “okay. but promise me ya won’t be all gross ‘n stuff like papa and dad, ‘kay?”

kita can’t help it. he chuckles. “of course not. i wouldn’t upset nene-chan like that.”

“i won’t be upset! it’s just gross.” nene crosses her arms. “hey, hey, ya know--”

“yes?”

nene leans into kita’s ear conspiratorially, whispering, “you should give y/n a ring before another boyfriend does it first! i don’t want that to happen!”

kita blinks. “should i?”

nene huffs. “yes! ya make y/n happy. but don’t tell y/n that nene said that.”

he smiles, glancing over at you subtly. “alright.”

“eh? you gonna give y/n one or not say a word? yer confusing me.”

kita chooses to not reply.

“nene-chan! breakfast is ready!” you come back after scuffling around, holding a pitcher.

nene lets kita pick her up and they make their way to the dining room. you take one look at their faces and immediately notice something is up. “what were you two talking about?”

“y/n,” says nene diplomatically, “your boyfriend is good. keep him.”

“what!?”

“i am pretty good, don’t ya think so, y/n-san?” kita mocks enthusiastically, but the truth skirting around is ignored determinedly. he sets nene on her chair, unable to face your wide-eyed stare. “nene-chan approves of me.”

“oh jeez.” kita is amused by your distraught look. “what else did she say?”

“just that i should propose to you before some other boyfriend gets married to you first.”

“oh no.”

kita laughs. “she’s right.”

nene nods in agreement, though dutifully stays quiet. she eats her food and pretends she doesn’t look as keen as she does watching this.

casting one last look at his expression, you huff, faux aggravation cited clearly, “you’re teasing me.”

kita hums. “am i, though?” do you think i’m just joking around?

“what?” you demand, now wilting under his gaze. “i don’t like that look on your face. did she say something else?”

“yes.” kita pats nene’s head, smiling, sly but truthful, “she’s right that we’d make a good couple. why don't we prove it to her?”

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sixosix · 2 years

Text

miya osamu: kiss it better

gn!reader, fluff, friends?? lovers?? whatever the hell you two are, wc 468

“oyakodon!” you exclaim, nearly salivating when he easily slides the bowl in front of you. with a keen that almost sounds like you’re going to burst into tears the next second, you ask, “how did you know?”

you were muttering about it in your sleep last night and i made it my goal to prepare it for you first thing in the morning before you wake up. “‘cause i’m a good best friend.”

“you’re too good for me,” you whine, “what did i do to deserve you? i was probably a saint in my past life or something.” you’re an angel right now, osamu thinks, then blinks at how easy the thought came. “come here, ‘samu.”

wow, he marvels blankly, watching how your lips perk into a smile and then feeling how his cheeks color, i am cheesy. gross. “yeah?” he leans over the table to get closer.

you peck his cheek. “you’re amazing,” you whisper, then drop back down to your seat and clasp your hands together. “thank you for the meal!” completely oblivious to the way osamu is panicking internally.

osamu looks dazed, blinking several times in a pathetic attempt to pull himself together. you tell him to sit the fuck down and eat breakfast. wow. maybe he should cook oyakodon more often.

osamu is pleased with himself when you eagerly dig into the food, no doubt putting faith in the fact that he makes the food you’ll like. but… osamu frowns. “wait, slow down, don’t--”

“oh fu’ tha’s ho’!!!!” you yelp, fanning your mouth as tears prick the corner of your eyes. “ohmyguh.” you blink at him, eyes round. he shouldn’t find it adorable; he shouldn’t. (but he does.) “wa’er?”

osamu is but a weak man. “water,” he says, handing you a glass.

it takes a few minutes to get you to calm down, but the damage is done. you’re frowning at your food like it’s betrayed you. it seems extremely personal. osamu tells you to please wait for it cool a little bit before you gulp it down like a madman.

“ugh,” you mutter, stabbing an onion with your fork. “now my tongue hurts.”

osamu snorts. “want me to kiss it better?”

your eyes sparkle. he’s never thrown out that offer before. “will you really?”

you don’t know, not really -- probably for the best, knowing how devious you are -- that osamu is completely at your mercy. he would do everything and more; he’d cook oyakodon like it’s his goddamn last meal if it means you’ll look at him like that. it’s dangerous, the lengths he’d go to. a kiss sounds pathetic in comparison.

“uh,” osamu says stupidly, swallowing down a lump suddenly inhabiting his throat, “if ya want me to. i guess.”

it’s normal for friends to do this, right? yeah. probably.

(he enjoys it way too much for it to be normal or for it to be just for friends. he’ll figure it out someday. for now, he’s happy to please you in ways that he can.)

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sixosix · 2 years

Text

miya atsumu: the fake date, real date venn diagram

# fluff, idiots in love, wc 646

fake dating with atsumu is possibly the worst decision you’ve ever made, which is saying something since you’ve always mourned the day you agreed to befriend the twins.

you would know, since you’re trying it out. (a mistake that you nor atsumu will never live down.)

and he knows you think this way because he makes sure this is the most tortuous date—real or not—you’ve ever been with. he taunts you, saying hey, ya chose me, of all people, so ya gotta deal with it. and you know this— of course you do! except choosing him was an accident and the case of “right time, wrong person”.

you don’t know what the worst: your crush not even getting jealous at the sight of atsumu lovingly pecking every spot on your neck he can find, or you not as appalled as you’d like to be at the feel of atsumu lovingly pecking kisses on every spot of your neck he can find. both will likely subject you to gray hairs either way.

and the worst thing is, atsumu is enjoying every bit of it. you think it’s strange, to find him at your door so early in the morning with a genuine grin.

maybe it’s because he’s never been in a relationship before, so this fake dating thing benefits both of you. (you’re not sure if you’re benefiting anymore, despite being the one who suggested it in the first place.)

maybe… maybe it’s because he has feelings for—

yeah. nope. no thank you. you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it. maybe burn it down to ashes, too.

he always waits for you to prepare, trailing after you as he makes quick talk with your family who he’s already grown familiar with—not to mention your family is quick to fall for your act—and walks with you to school, even though your house is further away from it than his.

every action is so thoughtful, that when he drapes behind you in the middle of lunch, you’re wondering if he’s still doing this on purpose.

“‘sumu,” you murmur as you turn to him, pointedly ignoring the flutter on your stomach when he lazily kisses the side of your mouth. “atsumu,” you repeat.

atsumu huffs, lifting himself off of your shoulders. “what?”

“they’re gone. you can let go of my hand now.”

“don’t wanna,” he replies easily. like a child.

this. this is what confuses you.

atsumu always says—should’ve not chosen me!—but he’s never once shown displeasure at acting out intimacy, even in front of anybody. he seems to thrive in it, even. throwing possessive glances when he thinks no one is looking and hugging you whenever he felt like it. even when the whole point of fake dating is to make your crush crawl to you, not scare him off of you.

but you suppose the definition of fake dating has been long lost, swept away with the wind of atsumu distracting you so good that sometimes you forget that it’s fake. who would’ve known that atsumu is such a sweet and caring boyfriend, fake or not?

“you know, atsumu,” you begin in hopefully a casual enough approach, “you’re really toeing the lines in our fake relationship.”

atsumu doesn’t seem bothered by your statement. he only reacts with a sly smile.

“fake dating, real dating,” atsumu drawls, “only difference is if yer hidin’ some feelings that would make it faker or realer than it’s supposed to be.”

mouth dry, you find yourself unable to respond. because you know exactly where you fall into that category. but you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it. right now…

you nudge him away from you. “i’m not your neck pillow, asshole.”

“you’re as comfortable as one, though,” atsumu reasons with a pout. “and easier on the eyes than stuffed cotton.” then he laughs at our flaming face.

yeah, fake dating with atsumu is the absolute worst (and best) decision you’ve ever made.

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sixosix · 2 years

Text

miya atsumu: not a word

gn!reader, fluff, osamu’s pov, wc 767

it starts when it’s too early in the morning -- around 5 A.M., probably -- when the twins are showing you around their backyard.

osamu had vehemently shook his head when atsumu proposed the idea of giving you a house tour and said he wouldn’t know what to do if it were just the two of you. “just ‘cause yer a bad boyfriend doesn’t mean i hafta wingman you with yer new crush.”

but atsumu pointed out that osamu still owes him from yesterday when he shared some of your cooking from the snack you gifted atsumu -- and osamu was irked to admit that he really liked it. it was a cheap trick. osamu is weak for food as much as atsumu is weak for you.

so here they are now, letting you explore the house as you gush about the tiniest details that atsumu would be so flustered about for no reason; like the framed photo of the twins, with the same colored hair before it was dyed. you cooed and said the twins are the cutest things on earth. atsumu makes a strangled noise.

it was amusing, osamu thinks, watching his twin trail behind you like a lost puppy in his own home. it was also entertaining when he knows that atsumu isn’t the only one pining in this strange friendship you pair have.

you yawn, and osamu swears that atsumu is beside you in an instant, shrugging off his jacket to wrap it around yours.

you don’t say anything about it, which was interesting. maybe you don’t want to point out how head-over-heels atsumu is for you? maybe you don’t care? maybe atsumu has done it too many times for either of you to be surprised?

what a strange relationship.

“first time i’ve seen ya being such a gentleman, ‘sumu,” osamu teases, and with delight, taking in the red that’s creeping up his twin’s face -- from anger, from embarrassment, he doesn’t know.

“shut up,” he murmurs, uncharacteristically shy. he glances at you, then sighs in relief when the comment doesn’t seem to make you realize it was something for you to take notice, too.

“nah,” you say through a yawn. “atsumu’s real nice. dunno why everyone’s saying he isn’t.” you yawn again, oblivious to atsumu’s reddening cheeks.

osamu smiles to himself, knowing. “ya sleepy, y/n?”

atsumu bristles, obviously wanting to say that first.

you smile. “a bit. dunno if i can keep up with the practice match later but at least i’m not the one playing,” you laugh. atsumu settles down at the sound, a small smile of his own tugging his face. osamu rolls his eyes.

“let’s go inside,” atsumu says, leading you back to the house gently, but not as if you’re fragile. “sun’s barely out, ya can sleep.”

“i’ll make somethin’ for us before we head out,” osamu says and doesn’t wait for any protests, making a beeline to the kitchen. he laughs to himself when he hears atsumu curse under his breath.

it’s the first time he’s seen his twin so unlike himself. osamu thinks that atsumu isn’t trying to change as a person around you, but rather he’s scared that if he becomes too much -- as atsumu usually is -- you would run away. osamu could see it in his twin’s eyes: the adoration, the longing, the insecurity.

when he comes back, he snorts quietly, even when atsumu shoots him a sharp glare. atsumu is sitting on the couch with you, your head on his shoulder and his arm around you. it was a sight to behold. he took a picture of it.

“delete that,” atsumu demands, voice above a whisper. “don’t ya dare send it to the fuckin’ gc.”

osamu dares to send it to the fucking gc. suna is having a field day.

you move, shifting around until your nose is near atsumu’s neck -- and osamu almost falls over laughing when atsumu goes stiff all over and gapes at you. you murmur something that vaguely sounds like atsumu’s name, and the said boy softens.

“get comfortable, idiot,” osamu chides, still bright with mirth. “lay y/n’s head on yer lap or they’re gonna be in for a rude awakenin’.” literally.

“i know that,” atsumu defends, ears red and eyes round. osamu stifles a laugh when you stir again but make no move to push his twin off. “dammit,” he curses, as if he’s at fault that you’re being awfully touchy.

atsumu reaches out for your hand, biting his lip when your fingers curl over his.

osamu quirks an eyebrow.

“not. a. word,” atsumu hisses in return.

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