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#haikyuu!! fluff
white-poppie · 25 days
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Tsukishima Kei believes subtle actions speak louder than words ⎯ especially in relationships.
To anyone Kei would seem aloof and cold, but you know that he cares from his little gestures. The way he gently squeezes your hand to reassure you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, that little relieved smile that makes way on his face when you drop by during his practice sometimes. Him mindlessly massaging your calves ⎯ your legs sprawled over his as he lets you watch whatever sappy romance you want watch when you whine about your day being so bad.
Tsukishima who freezes when you move closer on the couch and peck his cheek during the movie. His surprise slowly dissolves on his face, making way for a soft smirk as he turns his head and looks at you.
"Was that necessary?" he asks, his words almost accusatory, but his tone and expression is relaxed.
"Nope, but I'm trying to get you used to affection." you say softly.
He snorts at your words, “So, you’re planning to slowly brainwash me to become the ideal boyfriend? Or what?"
"I am trying to brainwash you into being utterly in love with me, the ideal girlfriend." you chuckle, rotating your pointer finger in front of his face. "Wish Woosh, Hocus Pocus. Tsukishima Kei will love me forever."
Although he tries keeps up his serious expression, but it turns more into a smile as a wide grin spreads across his face at your silly action.
"You actually want me to say it? That I love you?" He asks, "Is that what the game is?" he rolls his eyes and shakes his head in amusement.
"Maybe?" you whisper out softly and look at him with those hopeful eyes of yours that make him melt.
Tsukishima is silent, just looking at you calmly in a way that makes your heart raise with excitement and trepidation togther.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" you ask softly and he sighs, shaking his head, his eyes softening.
"Of course not, its just...I am not used to it?" He says and you listen to him intently, nodding, urging him to continue. "I just...I don't know, it makes me feel so vulnerable saying it." He utters.
"I just feel like what the point of saying it, when I already express it through other ways, you know?" he says, running his fingers through your hair, calmly. Thats how he loves you.
"I know. you murmur, "I just like hearing you say it." You hum with a pause, looking at him, trying to gauge his reaction. "You don't have to say it if you don't want to, its just that it makes it feel so much real when I hear it..."
Tsukishima smiles, lightly. Thats what he loves about you. You have these ways of making him feel utterly speechless and you do this so effortlessly.
"Okay." he says, his ear getting a tiny bit red. You want to point it out, but you bite your tongue to not ruin the moment.
"I love you." he says, his hand resting over your head and a you can't help the bright smile that makes its way on your face. Hearing out of his mouth almost makes you flustered. You can't help but giggle and bury your face in his chest.
"I love you too."
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- FANFICTIONS  —HAIKYU!!
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reineydraws · 7 months
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babies iwachan, bokuto & noya fighting with their stick-swords :') based off this extra from the manga!
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omiomi-kyun · 3 months
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01:54 a.m. — night walk
“i'm sorry?”
tsukishima fiddled with his fingers while avoiding your gaze. he rubbed the back of his neck while looking at the lamp post few feet away from you.
“are you really inviting me over at your place?”
he pursed his lips as he nodded his head.
after almost six months of dating while taking everything slow, he's finally ready to share his safe space with you. both of you are finally starting to lower your guard around each other; ready to take your relationship to a-whole-nother level.
“um... so, uh... should i bring something over? i mean, should we pick up something to eat before...” you let out a nervous laugh before looking at him. “i've never done this before.”
tsukishima looked into your eyes with a smile. He grabbed your hand before pressing his lips againdt your knuckles.
“we could grab something to eat or we could just order later.” he held your hand closer to his chest. “we could also eat first then head straight to my place.”
“that sounds awesome!” you said before looking at the well-lit street you're taking. “we could do the former if you're not that hungry yet, the latter if you are.”
“you're not hungry yet?”
you shook your head. “after hearing your invitation, i feel like i'm all full.”
you wouldn't trade the moment you were sharing with tsukishima at the moment for anything else.
GRUMBLE
or maybe you'd trade your stomach for a full one.
“let's eat first, then!” he said after chuckling. “we could grab some snacks afterwards.”
“sorry 'bout that...” you murmured while nuzzling your face against his arm.
you felt his warm hand against your cheek before he tilted your head up. he pressed a warm kiss against your forehead with a smile.
“don't worry about it,” he reassured.
“thank you, kei-kun.”
“you're always welcome, love.”
you continued to walk towards the bustling street where several restaurants are lined up on both sides.
“so, where shall we eat?”
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hikikaimar · 23 days
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haikyuu boys bff hcs
atsumu, kenma, oikawa, nishinoya x reader
atsumu totally sends you pics of expensive ass rings all the time, and he’s like “i think this one would look good on u :)”. after the seventh time of him doing that you just text back “please stop walking in jewelry stores just to take pictures of the rings then walk out .”
kenma has yachi’s number for one reason and one reason only. she tells him whenever you want anything. then he’ll get it and when you’re like “who tf got this?? for me??” he acts like he has no clue. but he’s actually really happy because you’re happy.
oikawa does a skincare routine with you every sunday. he says it’s because he “has to look good for his fans”, but it’s really because he enjoys the way you tense up a bit when he gets a little too close so you can apply his clay face mask. 
nishinoya would randomly jump on you. like just straight up attack you at 15:02 on a saturday. he claims it’s out of love, but your (sore) body on the ground, trying to survive with him on top of you, says differently.
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chimielie · 9 months
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what it is
summary: Oikawa x Reader. he makes it out of the friendzone (with some help)
word count: 1.3k
cw: nothing, oikawa in glasses
a/n: i wrote this in under an hour while heavily caffeinated?;!;!4& brain melting
“You’re late,” you say with a grin. Oikawa Tooru pouts at you, his team jacket folded over his arms. He’s already changed out of uniform, you notice; must have exchanged it for a white t-shirt and slacks in the locker room.
“I was swarmed,” he claims as the two of you start to walk together. You roll your eyes and don’t even bother making a jab about his popularity with the girls (and people of all genders, really). At this point, you’ve accepted that deranged fans come with the territory of being friends with the volleyball team captain.
You met Oikawa on the first day of your first year at Aoba Johsai and had been friends ever since. Even though you had no interest in the sport at first, his love for volleyball was infectious. He had even roped you into being the team’s manager. You still weren’t sure how he had pulled that off, but you didn’t mind too much—you’d grown to love the team and the sport too, in your own way.
Despite your closeness, you’d never really understood why he had a fan club, especially as a teenage school athlete. You expected his popularity to grow when (not if) he went professional, but the idea of swooning over some guy you had pre-calculus classes with was totally foreign to you. It was a running joke among your friends that you were immune to Oikawa’s looks and charming magnetism (and, honestly, to all four of the team’s upperclassmen. You could acknowledge how objectively attractive they all were even though none of them seemed to fit your niche).
Sometimes, you caught Oikawa making strange expressions while your friends teased you about not liking him. It felt like you were the only one who noticed these kinds of things, sometimes. You really liked being able to read him so easily: both of you had saved each other under the contact name “Platonic Soulmate” in your phones.
You chalked up the weird faces to your friend’s first-rate ego, and even though you knew that the notion of one person not being desperately in love with him wouldn’t scratch the surface of his self-esteem, you always found yourself taking his hand surreptitiously or leaning your head on his shoulder when you did see him looking mopey. He always perked up, after that, and all would be sunshine again.
Today, everyone else had bailed on you when you suggested a joint ice-cream-and-study-date before next week’s exams. Iwaizumi had claimed that Oikawa was too loud and always distracted him, so he couldn’t seriously try to study together. Matsukawa had to babysit and refused to bring the brats, as he affectionately called his siblings, to get sweets. Hanamaki had just quirked his eyebrows at you and said, “I don’t feel like third wheeling. Thanks, but no thanks.”
You hadn’t really understood what he meant, but you hadn’t questioned it.
Oikawa had almost begged off to do some solo practice, too, but you’d made a fuss about nearing the end of your high school experience and worrying that you would fall out of touch when volleyball became his whole life (even moreso than it was now!), and he’d caved with an overdramatic sigh and a soft look that told you he wasn’t all that mad about your guilt-tripping.
You’re broken from your thoughts when you reach the ice-cream shop, Oikawa jabbering in your ear about some drama you can’t keep up with.
“And then she told me—ah, I can’t read the menu. You know, they were late refilling my contact prescription this month, so I’ve been carrying around my glasses, I hate it. So unflattering.”
You worry your lip as you stare at the flavor chart, barely listening to him talk.
“I’m sure it’s,” you start, turning to him as he slides the case out of his pocket and puts the frames on his face in a smooth motion. “Um.”
The glasses are not unflattering, you think dumbly, staring at him, your sentence hanging unfinished. The glasses perch on his nose perfectly, making you appreciate, for the first time, the shape of his nose and his cheekbones. Had they always been that sharp? And since when had his eyes been so pretty, reflecting the sunlight in so many shades, framed with long eyelashes that would have made you jealous if you weren’t so—
You reach out and lift the glasses off his face slowly, hoping that the old, familiar features that you’d never felt anything but friendship-friendly feelings towards would return. You can still see it, though: the divot of his Cupid’s bow is appealing, now, his smooth skin glowing to you, his surprised expression fucking adorable. You drop the frames back onto his nose.
Very abruptly, whatever immunity you once had to Oikawa’s looks is demolished in one fell swoop.
“I have to go have a midlife crisis,” you say decisively, and march out of the shop.
“Hey! What—where are you going? You’re not even middle-aged?” Oikawa calls after you, and you try steadfastly to ignore him, but every sense seems to have been awakened to your friend. Your face flushes, and you start walking faster, nearing the pace of a jog even though your limbs are stiff.
You finally pull over in a quieter, slightly more secluded spot between two buildings. You lean against the wall, closing your eyes, trying to remind yourself to take deep breaths.
“Are you okay?” Oikawa says, and you curse his long, athlete legs for having followed you so swiftly. “What’s wrong?”
You open your eyes. He’s still wearing the fucking glasses. Rest in peace, you think to yourself, surely my heart is going to give up soon, at the rate it’s going. Your lips part, but you can’t seem to get the words out. His worried gaze studies you until he finds something—exactly whatever you didn’t want him to see. A slow smile unfurls over his face, and you narrow your eyes. Ugh, how dare his smugness be attractive too, now?
“I should wear the glasses more often, huh?” He says, and you shake your head no frantically.
“Please don’t,” you say. “It’s, like, it doesn’t even matter anymore, anyway, I can’t unsee it now.”
“Unsee what?” He cocks his head, and he’s getting closer, and there’s nowhere to back away from him because you’re up against a wall—
“You’re hot!” You wail. “I saw it and I’m never gonna stop thinking it now, it doesn’t even matter what you wear, I’m doomed! This is the worst thing ever, ‘Kawa, how’m I supposed to go on… I can’t be your friend and a part of your fan club. I don’t think I can even be a part of your fan club ‘cause I don’t just think you’re hot, I think I have a crush on you—oh, my God, I have a c—”
Your increasingly frantic rambling is cut off by Oikawa sealing his lips to yours. The kiss is quick and sweet, and when he pulls away he still looks so, so handsome, and so concerned.
“Please breathe,” he says, and you nod, gaping at him in shock. “I like you too, okay? Please stop having a crisis.
“Okay,” you exhale, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “Okay. I’m still freaking out, though. I think the only way to stop it is to keep kissing me.”
Oikawa heaves a big, overdramatic sigh, and leans in, his glasses bumping your face; giving in to you, just like he always does.
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shoulmate · 2 years
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Bokuto is having a hard day.
He bumped into someone, spilled their coffee and they were in too much of a rush to let him replace it.
He tried smiling at a baby on the way to the stadium and it cried.
He's not making any shots, his teammates are in bad moods and he can't tell if it's because of him.
He planned to meet you and some of your work friends after practice but now?
He's not so sure.
He feels pretty crappy and then, as he's leaving practice, Meian makes a comment.
"Don't embarrass yourself."
Bokuto feels hollow after that and then the cherry on top is when he's walking up to the station and that spiteful low hanging tree branch snags his team jacket again, rips the repair you already made once, and Bokuto feels like an absolute burden on everyone and everything and even though you assured him you didn't mind fixing his jacket after he tried and tried to thread the needle he feels like such a dud and he just wants to see you but when he gets to the cafe he sees you inside with your friends and you're laughing and so happy and he, he--
Spins on his heel and leaves.
"Ko?" He hears your voice. "Ko!" you call running out to him. "Hey."
You're smiling when you pull his arm and turn him around.
He feels like a dark cloud.
"I thought that was you. Are you coming inside? Everything ok?" You try searching his expression when he shakes his head but he won't meet your eye. "Ko, what's wrong?"
"I just, uh, I'm not feeling well," he mutters. "Sorry, just gonna go home."
"Oh, okay, let me just go grab my things," you reply without hesitation but he stuffs his hands in his pockets.
"No, you just go enjoy your friends." He doesn't wait for your reply before he leaves.
Home is only a few train stops away, thankfully, so he doesn't have to wait long until he can enclose himself in the safe space but not even this place can bring his spirit up.
All he can see when he looks around is how his high-energy has led to accidents. He wonders if he does enough chores around the house. He can't cook like Osamu or clean like Sakusa. He feels worse and worse as his mind spirals on the burden he must be to you. All he wants to do is curl up into a ball.
It's not long before he hears the front door.
"Ko?" You call, voice muffled by the walls. He hears you open and close a few doors, soft footsteps padding around until the approach and the closet door screeeks open. Your voice is soft. "Ko?"
Gentle.
There's a rustle as you rummage through the clothes, he tries to shrink but you find him and crouch down to his eye level.
It's still dark in here, light from the bedroom shining on only half your face and Bokuto thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out.
"Ko?"
More than he deserves.
With his knees up to his chest he buried his face but you hear the sniffle.
"Ko," you murmur and lean in, wrapping your arms around him. He tries not to but
He cries.
"I just can't do anything right today," he sobs as big tears drop onto his uniform. "Look, I even tore my jacket," -he flicks the rip- "again and I still won't be able to fix it.
"I can't do anything for anyone!" He angrily weeps.
"Bokuto Kōtarō." Your voice is soft but stern. He tenses up and you tilt his chin to meet your eye. "None of this is true. And" -you cut him off before he can interject- "even if you don't believe it, I do."
Holding his gaze you gently ask "do you believe in me?" He nods fervently and you smile warmly, cupping his cheeks. "Then believe me when I say you are the kindest, purest, warmest, most wonderful person I've ever met."
Tears overflow now-shining eyes that take in all of you. He lets you pull him forward, shifting his body in your arms, his weight onto you. He's about to protest that he'll crush you when you start running your fingers through his hair.
He sinks into you.
You clutch him tighter, unphased by his size, and listen as he tells you about all the bad parts of his day. You offer solutions or counter points, assuring him it's not a problem to fix his jacket again.
"And Meian said that because he embarrassed himself in front of his girlfriend's work friends," you offer with a small laugh. "She told me all about it last MSBY dinner."
He wraps his arms around you, too.
You're still stroking his hair. "We all have bad days, Ko, but it doesn't mean that we're bad."
Bokuto had a hard day but you,
Your words, the sound of your voice, your arms around him, listening to him, loving him...
You make it better.
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oikharou · 1 year
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HOW HE REACTS TO YOU BEING PRETTY ON YOUR LATEST TIKTOK VID
with: miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou and suna rintarou
note: gn!reader, & pet names
genre: crack and fluff
warning/s: cursing in atsumu and suna's part
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>MIYA ATSUMU
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>BOKUTO KOUTAROU
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>SUNA RINTAROU
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@oikharou — all rights reserved — no reposting, translating, plagiarizing and claiming any of my works as yours
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admiringlove · 4 months
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[17:45] . . .
when you look back on the past few weeks and see how your best friend has been acting, it makes you question almost everything you know about him.
sugawara kōshi wasn't a nervous guy—confident, even a bit of a charmer, you’d say. you'd playfully call him a goon because of how he is, but now, he's pulling away, leaving you puzzled. did you unintentionally cross a line during your last conversation? the uncertainty lingers as you wonder if a thoughtless comment pushed him away or if there's a deeper reason behind his sudden distance.
you see him in the hallways, and somehow it feels like there’s a mountain between the two of you. you lock eyes with him when you leave your afterschool club, and he turns away. just what had you done?
your heart ached at the sight. it sure didn't help that you were completely, irrevocably in love with him. if anything, it made things worse. so you decided to play it cool, be just like him. you'd stroll past him in the hallways without a second glance, hoping it would make your heart hurt a little less. intentionally leaving your photography club early, dodging the volleyball team dismissal, so he wouldn't catch a glimpse of your face. maybe it seemed a bit petty, but hey, he started it. you were just honoring his wishes, in your own way.
but one thought pricked your mind. cruelly enough, it never left your head.
what if he'd stumbled upon someone new? you recall seeing him in conversation with a charming girl from the class next to yours, sharing laughs during the break. what if he'd clued in on your feelings for him? was that the reason behind his avoidance too? if that held any truth, it only made a cascade of anxieties in your mind. what if, because of some trivial entanglement, you'd lost your best friend of five years?
the looming dread of losing him wrapped around your heart like a suffocating shadow. it wasn't just the prospect of a fading friendship; it was the fear that an unspoken emotion had inadvertently created a rift between you. the thought of him finding comfort in the company of another, laughing with someone new during recess, sent waves of unease crashing through you. the uncertainty gnawed at your core, leaving you in a state of perpetual restlessness.
and if he had broken your heart into multiple pieces and found someone new, you don't think you would simply stop loving him. it would be slow, and painful. you reckon you wouldn't be able to love someone new for a long, long time. forgetting him would be like a nightmare.
and yet, today remained unaltered. you exited the photography club room, observing as volleyball team members sealed the gym. sighing, you realized you were a little late this time. the first-years, particularly hinata, greeted you from a distance. you responded with a modest smile, delicately waving in return. trouble with suga was the last thing you desired, fearing your thoughts. what if he did found solace in someone else? the notion pierced your heart. deep down, you sensed that daichi, ever the astute observer, would uncover the truth about the unsettling connection between you and the serene setter.
but what you don't expect, is for all of them to walk toward you. you watched in inexplicable horror as the entire group followed the senior years' lead. hinata and kageyama, always fighting and messing around. nishinoya and asahi, talking about something with vigor and calmness at the same time. tanaka, bothering kiyoko with amorous words and her having no response to them whatsoever. yamaguchi and tsukishima, bantering about something with yachi listening in. the rest, talking to each other and watching the chaos of it all unfold.
and sugawara kōshi, in the front, looking right at you with an emotion you couldn't quite put a finger on. your throat went dry when you watched them greet you. you responded with a meek hello in return, deciding to join the group towards home.
your gaze nervously flits between kōshi and daichi up front, leading the group, as you join tsukishima and yamaguchi. the blond shoots you a knowing look with narrowed eyes, seemingly privy to your intentions. he begins to question you, but you widen your eyes in a silent plea.
he only rolls his eyes, "that won't work on me, senpai."
"i hate you," you groan, deadpan expression etched across your face.
he emits a dry chuckle, "let's be honest, i'm your favorite first-year, with an actual functioning brain," then his gaze shifts to hinata and kageyama behind you, throwing them the most disdainful side-eye he can muster, "unlike certain individuals we're acquainted with."
yamaguchi laughs, "that was uncalled for!"
yachi only shakes her head in silent reverie. you furrow your eyebrows at the blond, "you give yourself too much credit. i like yachi the most."
"oh yeah? even though i was the first to figure out you're practically in love with-"
a forceful shove to tsukishima's stomach elicits a resonant groan, catching daichi's attention as he glances back with a raised brow. you shoot him a knowing smile, smoothly carrying on with the conversation. yachi erupts into laughter, while yamaguchi discreetly covers his mouth with a hand.
"if you dare say the next part out loud, i'll make sure you won't set foot on a volleyball court for the next five months," you grit your teeth, a steely resolve in your gaze. the middle-blocker scoffs, "i'll report you to the authorities for battery and assault."
"i won't even let you get to the police station in one piece," you say, smiling innocently. he pouts softly, scoffing.
the remainder of the fifteen-minute walk passes with surprising ease. as tsukishima and yamaguchi bid farewell to the group, the middle-blocker casts you a knowing look, "here's hoping you won't turn into a nervous wreck when it's just the two of you later."
"thanks," you reply sarcastically, releasing an exasperated sigh. he chuckles as he saunters away, leaving the group now comprising only the first-years with tanaka leisurely strolling alongside. you nervously clutch the straps of your backpack, fiddling with them absentmindedly.
observing kiyoko and tanaka diverging from the group at the next turn, daichi follows suit when his home approaches. he graces you with a soft, reassuring smile. it weirdly offers a sense of solace, as though he senses the imminent solitude with suga or perhaps infers your feelings for the setter. regardless, you reciprocate the exchange, bidding your goodbyes.
and after an awkwardly silent five minutes, when your home finally comes around, you stop. he does too, looking at you with an expression you don't quite understand. his eyebrows are ever-so-slightly crunched, his lips beautifully pursed and his eyes look at you with so much longing that it almost physically hurts you to return the gaze.
"i-i, will see you tomorrow then," you say, clenching and unclenching your hand. he nods ruefully, but just as you're about to unlock your front door with your keys, you hear him say, "wait!"
you turn, eyes brimming with anticipation and worry, and you hum softly. he pulls you back to the road, and exasperatedly he says, "i need to talk to you."
"what for?" you ask, furrowing your eyebrows again. he lets out an almost annoyed sigh, "you've been ignoring me. and i don't know why that is, but seriously-"
"what do you mean, i was ignoring you?" you interrupt, almost offended, "you started it!"
"that's different! and besides, how many times have i told you to not interrupt people in the middle of their sentences?" he argues. you fume, pouting as your eyes turn glassy in a mix of emotions. you don't know what you feel. but you knew that there was definitely anger and fear involved.
"shut up!" you say, eyes threatening to spill in a fit of rage, "you were ignoring me and i thought i did something wrong!"
"what do you mean? i thought i said it was something entirely different! you did nothing, stupid!" he argues again. your lip quivers, and a few tears escape in anger, "stop yelling at me! if you just told me that you wanted space, none of this would have happened! it's your fault, idiot!"
his gaze softens, and he walks toward you. you have half the mind to take a step back, but it seems like he can read your thoughts. because he immediately clasps your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. the touch sends chills down your spine, making you question everything you've ever known. he sighs, so softly that it makes your heart flutter. and he places his hands on your shoulders, looking directly into your eyes as he says, "you did nothing, okay? in fact, i did something. and i felt the need to avoid you because i thought it would help. news flash, looks like it made things worse."
"i thought you hated me," you sniff, eyes red as you look at him, hands still clenched at your sides. he shakes his head, "i could never hate you."
"and then the other day," you continue, voice croaky, "then i saw you with that pretty girl at recess the other day. and i thought you replaced me, and i-i don't know, i just-"
his arms wrap around you tenderly, and he almost shoves your head into his chest. you groan, and he says, "sorry."
"no, um, i just.. i don't know," you say, voice muffled, "i thought you liked her."
"and why does that bother you?" he raises an eyebrow. you narrow your eyes, playfully shoving him, "you know already, don't you? why are you making this so much harder for me, you asshole!"
"oh, i don't know," he smirks softly, "maybe i just want to hear you say it."
"well, i'm not gonna," you cross your arms over your chest, "i hate you."
"i ignored you because i realized you feel the same way as me," he laughs softly, looking away. the wind picks up, and the orange light of the drooping sun almost reflects from him. his eyes look so ethereal as he smiles tiredly at you, and you blink profusely.
you stand there, confused, and he walks up to you, brushing a part of your hair away from your face. you furrow your brows, processing the information. but he only comes closer and closer, until his lips are inches from yours. he smiles softly, "i'm gonna kiss you now. stop me if you'd like, okay?"
"h-huh?"
kōshi's lips fall on yours, he leaned in and your breaths merge in a dance of shared vulnerability. your lips met tentatively, a delicate connection that held the weight of unspoken confessions. it was a kiss born from the depths of unresolved emotions, a fusion of longing and the bittersweet taste of the uncharted.
as your lips lingered in that ephemeral union, a myriad of emotions flooded the space between them—the ache of unrequited desires, the torment of what-ifs, and the sweet agony of a connection finally acknowledged. the emotions you felt were too complicated to explain in words.
"wait, so you don't like kimi from the other class?" you ask, confused when he pulls away. sugawara laughs delicately, shaking his head, "you're so dumb. yes, i don't like someone else. i like you."
"oh," your lips part, holding his face in your palms, "alright."
"stop ignoring me now?" he asks, hopefully. you nod, a slight blush cascading from your cheeks. and he takes a step backward, "i'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"okay," you smile softly.
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ktsumu · 5 months
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WHEN WE WERE THIEVES
pairing: atsumu miya x gn!reader wc: 5.7k
when the case is that your romantic partner was once your literal partner in crime, it’s a fact that it would be shameful if you didn’t know all of their oldest hiding spots. even more shameful is them not expecting you to know, already.
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It was the first summer after you turned nine when you met him for the first time, surrounded by cardboard moving boxes and loud trucks.
Actually, you met two of him.
Across the street of your quaint culdesac dream sat a clunky moving truck, close by to a far less clunky car that sat idly in the driveway, doors swung open wide as two boys did literally anything but help unload. They intrigued you from your window—partially because they seemed to fade into each other after they crossed, their matching outfits doing you no favours in telling them apart.
(Eventually, one fell, and you learned the name of the boy who stood victorious was Osamu, by the way the one on the ground wailed.)
The boy on the ground, you found, was Atsumu; at least, it was the name muttered by ‘Osamu’ as he desperately tried to get the former to stop crying before his parents came back outside. 
From the comfort of your window, you watched them. By the time they finally stopped playing a twisted version of two-player tag and fell onto the grass, it was dark out, and you were dozing off on your windowsill and pressing your face into the screen that barred you from the outdoors. When your mother came up to make sure you were asleep, she wasn’t mad when she found you awake. 
“If you want to play with them, you can just ask,” she suggested. “You don’t just have to watch them.”
You only shrugged, eyes heavy as you listened to them complain about mosquitoes.
“They’re kinda weird.”
With a snorting laugh, your mother had already guided you towards your bed. You only heard one part of her goodnight, your eyes shutting almost immediately after hitting the mattress.
“Huh.” She patted your side, tucking you in tightly. “You’ll fit right in, then.”
And fit in, you did. 
The next morning, you had woken up with a new quest: befriend the strangers across the street. 
Clumsily, toaster waffles were carefully crafted before being drenched in syrup on a plate; a few steps away from repulsive now, unbelievably attractive then. And then, with your newfound determination and encouragement, you walked across the street when you heard their sneakers scuffing on the pavement.
Naturally, their two-person game of badminton slowed to a stop, the birdie bouncing twice off of the hot asphalt when they saw you coming with your plate. In their direction, no less. 
When you reached them and the silence wasn’t seeming to find an end, you huffed. 
“Hi. I wanted to bring you waffles and welcome you to the street. I live in the house behind me.”
They stood in shock, so you only extended the plate out in front of you. 
“Now,” you begin. “Which one of you is Atsumu, and which one is Osamu?”
The twins only smiled, a mischievous grin being shared between them as they looked at one another, a plot dwelling in the heat of the summer air. For the next two months, Osamu called himself Atsumu. 
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After the great waffle introduction, you got to know the Miya twins. And shockingly, you could tell them apart after they confessed to swapping identities when you were around just to screw you over. Confessed after much interrogation from you, of course. 
In school, they jumped right into your classes, never being allowed to sit next to each other for the first week. Osamu was placed with a boy he’d seemed to befriend, and Atsumu was placed right beside you. And whether that was a blessing or a curse, your little brain couldn’t decide. “Stop copying me!” you hissed under your breath, glancing at the teacher as you nudged his arm. “She’s gonna know you did the same thing as me, idiot!” “Well, what if you copied me?” “I didn’t!” “She ain’t know that, does she?”
With a look of sheer betrayal, you hmph’d, turning back to your own piece of construction paper, layered with other pieces of construction paper. Made from different colours was a shooting star, a bright smile drawn dead in the centre of it. “This is why Osamu’s the nicer twin,” you grumbled, watching his eyes flicker between his paper and your own as he began to replicate the eyes you drew. “He wouldn’t copy me.”
And suddenly, something flashed across Atsumu’s face. “Wh—!? Fine, fine! Stop, don’t worry, watch.”
Side-eyeing his page from where you sat, you watched him grab a marker and draw a massive, obvious frown on his star. Now, yours was smiling, and his star looked mortifyingly sad.
“There,” he mumbled. “Now yours is the only one that’s smilin.’ Is that better?”
When you lifted your head from where it sat bowed, quitting your pouting for just a moment, you couldn’t help but smile, covering your mouth as you let out a blithe, immature giggle.
And Atsumu smiled. 
When the art exhibit came around at the end of that month, both of your paintings were hung up side-by-side, and the teacher only mentioned the uncanny similarity once before it became history. For the rest of the year, all of your projects looked the exact same; one was smiling, and one wasn’t. They didn’t need names on them to tell whose was whose.
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After the great copycat debacle, you and Atsumu discovered that the two of you could get away with a lot more than just snubbing your art teacher.
By the beginning of middle school, test answers were hidden in crinkled gum wrappers, scraped onto desks with a coin for the three of you to pull off. A holy trinity had been formed with Osamu for the sole purpose of selling premade lunches for inflated prices, the money going to popsicles at the convenience store down the street. And when they didn’t have volleyball practice, all three of you would go looking for the mythical and elaborate ‘candy stash’ the Twins’ parents didn’t want them to know about.
“How are you even sure there is one?” you would ask, following them sheepishly through a door you didn’t know existed in their home.
And they’d cough, swatting dust out of their hair and sharing a look you couldn’t get in on.
“Trust me, we know,” they’d say.
The house would get scoured — the highs, through a creaky attic door which Osamu would throw open. The twins would bicker as they searched the entire attic, and you’d lie and tell them a car just pulled into the driveway when you thought you saw a spider crawl out into the house.
And the lows of the basement, where you would hold the flashlight, leading them into the darkest corners with a proud smile as you heard them murmuring behind you. Of course, this search would always turn up nothing. Because, in hindsight, none of you think their parents were up for venturing into uncomfortable places like the three of you were.
But it was an adventure for the day, and almost always ended up with you sleeping over in one of their beds as they took the floor.
“Is it because your mom told you to?” you’d deadpan, smiling lopsidedly as they’d scoff.
“No,” Atsumu would say defensively, “it’s ‘cause I’m a gentleman.”
“We both are, stupid.”
“Yeah, but who’s the one sleeping on the floor? Mm.”
That night, you were woken up by a fervent and rough shaking of the arm, and you cracked an eye open with an annoyed groan. You lifted your hands and rubbed your eyes as a hand clasped over your mouth, causing you to shoot up in bed.
“Wh—!” you yelled into his palm, shoving him off of you when you realized who it was. “What is wrong with you!?” you whisper-yelled. “Shhh!” he shushed, “I found it!”
“Huh? Found what?”
“The stash!” Atsumu’s face was bright, his straight smile wide and full of pure, unadulterated happiness. When you’re thirteen, it’s the little things that make you feel tall. “Come on, wanna show you.” You grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving. “Shouldn’t we wake up ‘Samu?”
Atsumu really should’ve, but he shook his head. “His feet are too loud, he’ll wake up our parents.”
“But you’re even louder—“
“Quit yappin’ and just follow me, will ya?” he pleaded, his smug grin returning after you swung your feet over the side of the bed. 
Because even if Atsumu was louder, and that the concept of his parents finding you two awake this late was terrifying, you’d follow him off of a cliff blind. He knew it, too. 
He guided you through the hallway, checking corners like his own home was booby-trapped after dark. His hand gripping yours, you made it to the kitchen, and a chair was already placed awkwardly in front of the counter. 
“Get up,” he told you. 
“Are you crazy? No! I’ll fall!”
“No you won’t,” Atsumu guaranteed you, shaking his head as he held out his hands again. “I’ll make sure of it. C’mon, get up!”
And, as you always did, you believed him, taking his hands as he helped you up onto the kitchen counter. 
From the granite countertops, you felt like you were on top of the house—Atsumu looked small as ever, and he was considered kinda tall for his age. 
“Hurry up,” he beckons, “check the far left cupboard over the fridge.”
“Jesus, ‘Tsumu, how’d you even manage that one?” you whispered, opening the door as he asked. And, sure enough, the search had come to an end right then and there. Boxes of leftover Halloween candy lined the cabinet—far more than you were expecting. 
“See? It exists,” he gloated. 
You grinned down at him, looking down at the hands that steadied you by the legs. “Yeah, it does,” you admitted. “And it was just in the kitchen.”
Atsumu shrugged. “Sometimes, the best place to hide treasure is where most would think to look.”
“That’s kinda smart of you to stay.”
“Imma pretend you didn’t just insult me for no reason. Grab a box and let’s get outta here!”
“Grab a box?” you asked, half hissing. “Would that not make us thieves? That’s a punishable thing.”
Atsumu’s crooked smile gleamed back up at you, bathed in the stream of moonlight that came through the wall of windows in the living room. 
“So let’s be thieves. We’re already cheats, y’know.”
So you were. You grabbed (stole) the biggest box of Twix you’ve ever seen to date, and gripped his arms as he helped you down to meet him back on the floor. You gave him a grin that he’d never quite seen before — it was carefree and exhilarating, it sent a surge through his veins — and he would be the only one to see it. 
That night, the two of you became thieves. More importantly, you became something much more to Atsumu. 
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When the three of you neighbourhood kids hit high school, the attention the twins got was a different kind of absurd. 
The summer between your final year of junior high and your first year of high school was a rather lonely one — you saw Osamu more than you did Atsumu, and even then you barely saw the guy. Osamu found a troupe of new friends, and Atsumu’s talent as a setter landed him in a new camp every month, so it seemed. 
You still texted him a lot, sent pictures from your bedroom window taunting him about his absence, but he and his brother were a rare sight; it was even rarer to see them together. 
But when school rolled around, you could at least see what the craze was about. Not that you were included in that. 
A lot had changed in three months. For starters, they came back tan and with arms like no other guys in the class had. Osamu had been working on their grandfather’s farm all summer, and Atsumu had been training nonstop. It was safe to say he knew his work paid off, too, judging by the way he’d shamelessly flirt with every person who looked in his general direction. 
And they grew, too. They’d always been a little bit taller than you, but now you could see it from a distance. It almost made you glad that Atsumu wasn’t around, because you knew for sure you’d never hear the end of it the second he noticed you were a little bit shorter than him and ‘Samu, even more so than before. 
Just like you were in elementary school again, the three of you took the same classes. Different levels, of course—but the content was similar enough to meet up at lunch to complain about them. 
It was a war and a half to drag Atsumu and Osamu away from their designated seat at the table of kings (also known as: the volleyball team’s table), but it didn’t take long after you reminded them that getting behind on their grades could take them off the team. 
“Why are we even here?” Atsumu whined, groaning as he rested his chin in his hand. 
“Uh, to make sure you pass English?” you reminded him with a scoff. “Why? Sad you can’t tend to your fifteen girlfriends?”
“Ha? Fifteen?” he asked in amazement. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just jealous.”
“Jealous?”
“Shaddup,” Osamu drawled. “You’re both annoying.”
“Says you, dickhead,” Atsumu grit, which earned a smack to the back of his head. 
Watching them both act just like they always had despite the way things were changing made you laugh, shaking your head as you looked down at your textbook, flipping open your notebook. 
“You two haven’t changed that much at all,” you said, mostly to yourself. 
But Atsumu looked up, a small smile growing on his face just from seeing yours alone, his eyes focused on the way your eyelashes brushed against your cheeks when you glanced back down.  
And Osamu watched his brother, eyes narrowing as he watched him fall. 
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Truthfully, though, the boys weren’t the only ones who came back from summer looking different. You did, too. 
You’d grown into yourself — your clothes that you bought the summer before fit you better, your eyes were brighter. And the twins weren’t the only ones who had attracted wandering eyes; in fact, people had even gone up and asked the twins if you were talking to anybody, to which Osamu told them to ask you themselves. Atsumu told them to fuck off.
And if you had noticed how the twins changed? Atsumu had noticed how you did tenfold.  
“You’re such a shithead,” Osamu complained, slugging his bag onto the ground when they got home. “That’s our best friend, freak. Did ya like them when they slept over every night, too?”
“I don’t like them!” Atsumu protested, shoving past Osamu as he grabbed a drink from the fridge. “What even makes ya say that?”
Osamu blinked, dumbfounded. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe the fact that I was trying to do my goddamn bio homework, but couldn’t, because I was too busy gaggin’ at the sight of your goo-goo eyes!”
“My eyes are normal!”
“Not when you’re around them, they aren’t.”
Atsumu grunted in frustration, crossing his arms as he sat at the counter. “So what? Even if I did like them—which I don’t—what’s the issue?”
“You’re a child,” Osamu insulted. “And they're leagues ahead of ya. Besides, you’ve got girls hangin’ off your damn arms, pick one of them and move on.”
Atsumu stuck out his tongue, obviously not above childish cruelty even at sixteen. 
Osamu was right; Atsumu was one of the few that had all of their classmates’ attention. But the problem was, he didn’t need ten pairs of eyes on him — he only ever wanted one. 
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By second year, it was decided unanimously by all of Atsumu’s friends (including Osamu) that there was no chance of him ever getting over you. 
Between classes, he was at your hip. During lunch, he was at your hip, asking if you wanted to come sit with the team with him and Osamu. When he walked by your classes with a hall pass, he’d walk extra slow, hoping that maybe you’d spare a passing glance and notice him there; just a glance was enough. 
And after careful deliberation with the lunch table, it was officially decided that you were totally off-limits to your high school’s class. 
“Stop,” Atsumu would groan, covering his face as Suna snickered under his breath. “I don’t like them!”
“No, you don’t. You love them.”
“I do not!”
Suna just scoffed, turning to Osamu with a nudge. “Watch this—Kita!”
Their team captain turned from his spot walking by, offering a gentle smile as he set his tray down on the table and sat. He nodded to them all, picking up his chopsticks as Suna folded his hands in front of him. 
“What is it?” he asked. 
“You know about the ban on Y/N in our class, right?”
“Oh. Yeah,” he answered, making Osamu and Suna laugh as Atsumu’s jaw fell open. “Aran told me.”
“See? Everyone knows,” Osamu told his brother, beginning to eat his homemade lunch. “I mean, it ain’t like you try to hide it.”
Atsumu’s brows furrowed. If he was gonna be honest with himself, it’d been a couple of years since he started thinking you could maybe be more than just his best friend. But more importantly, why was it just then people were thinking he was so ‘obvious’ about it? 
Instead of fighting, Atsumu lowered his head, insulting his brother and pest of a friend under his breath as he picked at his onigiri. 
But as soon as he felt familiar hands rest on his shoulders, he perked right up. 
“Hey!” you greeted, peeking over his shoulder. “You look like someone just killed your dog.”
“Me? ‘Course not!” he reassured, turning halfway to face you as his mood did a one-eighty. “You’re comin’ to our game tonight, right?”
“Of course!” you told him, smiling at the rest of the table as they watched you with…unusually eager eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it. Oh! I was also gonna ask if you wanted to review for math afterwards? Your place?”
“I—yeah! For sure!”
“Great!” you chimed. “Cya later. Bye guys!”
The table synced with Atsumu in a collective and oddly dainty ‘goodbye’, watching you leave before erupting with snorts and boyish laughs. 
“‘For sure!’” Suna mimicked, making doe eyes at Osamu as they began to jokingly make kissy lips at each other, gripping each other’s arms. 
And when Atsumu turned to Kita to ask for help, he was chuckling, too.
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The first time you kissed Atsumu Miya, it was your first year of university and it had no witnesses; not even the two of you. 
Getting out of high school didn’t mean that you got out of the pitiful drinking games that it entailed, and you didn’t fully grasp this until you went to your first party, only to get called over to a circle of people on sofas by—the one and only—Atsumu himself.
“Hey!” he called. “You came!”
He was surrounded by people you didn’t know, probably from his classes, and all you could do was offer a laugh. “I almost didn’t.”
“That’s lame.”
“You’re lame. What’s new?”
“Agh, you suck.”
Atsumu stood up from where he sat, heading over to you and extending a hand. “Come, sit. We’re gonna play ‘Seven Minutes with the Bottle’.”
Your brows raised. “I can only imagine what that game is.”
“It’s seven minutes in heaven mixed with spin the bottle,” Atsumu explained, as if you weren’t being sarcastic in the first place. You didn’t chastise him for it, you just smiled and cursed yourself when your chest went warm at his honest and eager grin. “Come play!”
“I’m not sure.”
“Please? It’s fun, I promise—one round, ‘kay?”
You don’t wanna say you felt some pressure, but you sort of did; Atsumu has the type of eyes that beg you no matter what he’s thinking, slightly squinted at the corners and a gleaming brown. You caved quicker than you’d like to admit. 
(Atsumu says today that he was begging you, because he had hoped that damn bottle would land on you every time he spun it, and he hoped you had a lucky hand.)
“Okay,” you said, relenting as you sat down in his old seat; he took the arm of the couch. “Sure.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
The game started fast, with each person taking a spin. It went around clockwise, each person twice as eager as the one before, amused by middle school games. Atsumu kept looking at you the whole time, kept stealing glances; you thought it was chance. 
“My turn?” Atsumu asked, acting like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour counting down the seconds until it was his time to go. “Well, if ya insist.”
Atsumu reached out in the middle of the circle, taking the body of the bottle and spinning it, his lips pursing in anticipation. You didn’t even realize that the nose was pointing at you, you were so focused on the way every joint, muscle and vein waved beneath his skin. Golden skin. 
“Oh,” he breathed, looking up to meet your eyes. He was pink under the Christmas lights that were strung across the room. “You.”
“Oh,” you mimicked. “We don’t have to.”
“Screw that!” the person beside you said. “Play the game, guys.”
“We’re just friends, though—“
“Are you related?”
“What? Christ, no, do we look related—?”
“Get in the closet, Atsumu.”
You rest a hand on his arm, which Atsumu thought would be the end of him for sure, but you told him something far more dangerous: “It’s okay, let’s just do it.”
Atsumu wasn’t sure you knew what you were doing, which was confirmed when the two of you found your way into the dark, humid closet and shut the door, a phone with a timer sitting in between you; you told him you two could talk. 
“Yes,” he said as a cover, nodding as if he wasn’t just thinking about how close you sounded — he hated that he couldn’t really see you, he told you a year later. He wanted to see you. “We should. We can.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“…Do you like the party?”
“I can’t talk,” he admitted. 
Silence filled the small space, the dim glow of the screen telling you it’d only been thirty seconds. It felt more like thirty minutes—you could hear Atsumu breathing. 
You cleared your throat. “You…can’t?”
“What if we just — what if we tried? To kiss, I mean. Just so we don’t walk out like pussies, y’know? Like, just to say we did it. Or we could say we did—“
“Or we can tell them it’s none of their business what we did.”
You remember muffling the laughter under your breath when you heard him begin to backtrack, almost able to watch him nod. “Oh, for sure. Duh. Let’s do that.”
“Atsumu,”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s do it.”
“Kiss?”
“Yeah,” you told him. “We’ll make fun of ourselves later. Let’s just—“
And suddenly, you were not just you, but you were you and him. 
He was in front of you, like he crawled to get there, a hand holding him up and the other on the back of your neck. You knew that Atsumu was a ‘good kisser’, some of your old classmates could attest to that — but nothing beats when it’s real. 
You knew his hands, the lines of his palms, the rough pads of his fingers; but you didn’t know them when he threaded his fingers through your hair, inching closer to you. You knew his lips (he never shut up, he still doesn’t) but not when he kissed you like he did — you’d never seen him willingly stay silent until that point. 
(To this day, Atsumu brags about how he swept you away with your first kiss. You deny it every time.)
Atsumu moved closer, enough to stay in front of you without the support of his hand, and he moved it to your hip. His thumb smoothed over your skin, staying right where it was, content with just breathing you in until—
The phone on the ground went off, a shitty ringtone blaring through the closet as Atsumu pulled back, giving you your space back as he scrambled to shut it off. And once it was, it was just the two of you again, breathing somehow. 
Atsumu spoke first. “So.”
“So.”
“What—how was it? Like, was that bad? I didn’t think it was bad, well—it wasn’t awful.”
You were glad that it was dark, because he wasn’t able to see how flushed you were. He was glad you couldn’t see him, either. 
“Yeah, it was alright.”
“Yeah, totally.”
It was unreal. So unreal that, even after leaving the party and that stupid game, you and Atsumu kept doing it. Because friends can sometimes make good kisses, you guess. 
(“How was that?” the guy from earlier, the one who sat beside you asked, his brows raised. You sat down beside Atsumu again. 
“We just talked.” 
“Yeah, we just talked.”
“Okay…lame. Who’s next?”)
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You and Atsumu have been together for five years now. 
A week after the party, Atsumu banged on your dorm room door and kissed you so hard that it knocked the wind out of you. Two weeks later, he went home and told his friends that he did it — he finally asked you out, and the years of their pestering had finally done something. 
(“Jesus, ‘Tsumu, way to drag it out.”
“Is that all ya have to say?”
“Well? You’re slow.”)
Regardless, life has been better since the party. You kept your best friend, but you unlocked new benefits — and the benefits just keep getting better. 
But, your real favourite part about being Atsumu’s girlfriend, is having a guaranteed invite to the annual Miya's Thanksgiving dinner — where you get their mom’s signature dishes and snack onigiri made from a professional. 
Laying in Atsumu’s bed, the one he used to give you when you were twelve, you sit with your laptop perched on his nightstand, watching a movie as you wait patiently for him and Osamu to get back from the store. He begged you to go with them, but there was no way you were going out in the cold of November if you had the option to stay swaddled up in one of his blankets. 
Plus, Osamu teased him so he stopped. 
(“Wow, you can’t be separated for more than twenty minutes. How nauseating.”
“Wh—? Okay, fine. Bye! See ya in a bit, doll!”)
The movie’s about halfway done, people walk their dogs along the sidewalk outdoors. Your parents don’t live across the street anymore, but the house hasn’t changed — the paint is still the same and you can see the subtle chip in the doorframe. It brings memories back, ones you can hardly believe because of where you’re at now. 
To think that your now-boyfriend (boyfriend, what a crazy word) was the boy that you offered a waffle to when you were kids feels surreal. Atsumu once was the boy you’d ignore and when you were mad until he showed up knocking at your window; now, he is the one you kiss before you go to sleep. You share a bed. You picked your side first. 
The movie begins to lag and you groan, hurriedly clicking your space bar and cursing it when it doesn’t do anything. You shut the laptop, instead just heading to the kitchen. 
Because if you can’t watch a movie, you might as well steal some of the food prep Osamu made, knowing he made extra because he knew you’d steal some. 
When you get there, you check through the fridge first — most of the food there is for Thanksgiving, the things you wouldn’t dare eat yet. Normally Osamu has food prep going, yes, but you also forgot that the whole reason he and Atsumu went out is because he had nothing to make the said prep with. 
So, you sigh, defeated. 
Shutting the fridge, you pause, pursing your lips and looking up to the far left cabinet over where you stand. Few people in the world know what glory lies behind that door; you are one of them. 
Much taller and much more sure of yourself, you climb up onto the kitchen counter, reaching up to the cabinet and opening the door. Nothing has changed since you were young, so it seems, because there are still boxes on boxes of chocolate hidden over the fridge, even is no longer anyone to hide it from. 
(Well, maybe you need it hidden.)
You grab the first box you see, the only one that’s opened out of the stash, and carefully make your way back down to the ground. You quietly return the stool back to its original place, looking up when the door opens and the twins enter with bags in hand. 
“Hey!” you greet with a smile, watching them enter with rosy cheeks and exhausted looks. “How was it?”
Osamu scoffs a bitter laugh. “How do you think a grocery store is two days before Thanksgiving?”
You snicker. “Okay, point proven.”
Atsumu sighs a breath of relief, unzipping his jacket and tossing it over one of the stools as he goes to get around the island — probably to kiss you, or something. He’s like that. 
But he watches you reach for the box of chocolates, and for a passing moment, he chuckles. 
Then, he turns white as a ghost. 
“Stop!” he shouts, making you jump as you pause with the box. “Don’t open that,”
“Huh? It’s already open.”
“No, I mean — can I see that?”
You laugh, shaking your head. “No way, I got it first.”
“C’mon, there’s like eighty bars in there. You’re not gonna have all eighty.”
“Watch me,” you taunt, nodding to Osamu. “You both are too stressed out about dinner. I think we all deserve a chocolate bar, don’t we?”
Atsumu takes a step toward you. “Wait, don’t—!”
You shake the box gently, dumping out a pile of them as you look through the kinds, wondering which one you’ll have. There’s the basics, the classics, some special Halloween editions. 
Something else catches your eye. 
A small, black velvet box rests on the island in the puddle of sugar, and you furrow your eyebrows at it in suspicion. 
“Holy fuck,” Atsumu whispers to himself. You don’t hear him. 
You pick it up, looking it over. “Woah, that’s new. We must’ve got a special box or something.”
Osamu narrows his eyes, glancing at Atsumu before walking over to get a closer look. “What do you mean ‘special box’?”
“Like a special edition, or something. They probably gave out costume rings in some of the—“
You open the box, and a hand flies up over your mouth as you set the box right back down on the counter. You may be confused, but one thing is for sure; that’s not a costume ring. 
It gleams under the overhead lights, and Osamu’s eyes are wide. You freeze, not really sure of what you just uncovered, until you look at your boyfriend. 
Until you look at your boyfriend, and he doesn’t look shocked at all. 
“‘Tsumu, why do you look like this isn’t crazy?” you ask, eyes wide as he just leans on the island, dropping his head in defeat. “Atsumu?”
Osamu glances between the two of you, before it clicks in his head and he’s taking a step back, his hands on his hips. 
“Holy fuck,” he mumbles. 
Atsumu sighs, standing up straight again, and turning to you with a lopsided, barely-there grin. 
“It’s not crazy to me,” he tells you, “because I know where the ring came from.”
“What? Where?”
Atsumu smiles weakly. “I bought it.”
Your eyebrows furrow, glancing back to the absolute diamond on the counter, your head tilting as it practically blinds you where you stand. Osamu stands off to the side with a dumb smile on his face, and you just look between them. 
“You bought it?”
“Yeah.”
“For—,” Holy fuck.  
Your hands fly up to clasp over your mouth, your eyes going wide before they go glassy; you watch Atsumu through a layer of water as he slowly takes the box from the counter, turning towards you again. 
Atsumu huffs. “It was supposed to be later,”
“Atsumu!”
“Shoulda known you’d go rummaging back through that cupboard.”
( Osamu chimes in: “Wait, you guys found that?” )
“Atsumu,” is all you can say. Words feel foreign.
He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m gonna re-do it, okay? That works, right?”
“Yeah, yeah! Right?”
“Yeah, okay.”
He glances up to that stupid fucking cupboard, slowly dropping to one knee as his eyes well — just because it wouldn’t have been fair if you were the only one who cried. He kneels on the very spot he once held you up on top of the counter, making sure you didn’t fall.
“Back when we were thieves, we kinda swore we’d be partners in crime,” he starts, and it makes you choke out a laugh. “I know neither of us ever failed to keep our end of the bargain, and I know that promises don’t need nothin’ to seal them and yadah-yadah-yadah…”
Atsumu takes the ring out of the box, looking back up to you. 
“I wanted something to say ‘forever.’ This ain’t bad, no?”
You sniffle, shaking your head with a laugh of disbelief. The tears come faster than you can stop them. 
You cross your arms. “Did you steal this, too?”
He nods, grinning ear-to-ear. “Yeah, so you’re gonna need to answer a question for me before I get put in the slammer.”
“That means we’re gonna have a jail ceremony.”
“Welp, that’s what happens to thieves.”
Atsumu sighs shakily, taking your hand in his; he runs his thumb over the knuckle of your ring finger, his eyes softening as he holds you. His eyes are brown, but it is not just him, twenty-something and the love of your life. 
It’s him, twelve or so years old and making sure you don’t fall off the counter in the middle of the night. 
“I have to actually say it for it count, right?”
“Yeah, you do.”
“Okay, okay. Y/N,”
“Atsumu.”
He takes a breath. “Will you mar—“
You don’t wait for him to finish. Instead, you lunge forwards, dropping to your knees and wrapping your arms around his neck, stealing the air right out of his lungs before he could even finish his sentence. 
He’s not mad about it, either. He smiles against your lips. 
You’ll be stealing from him for the rest of your life, and he’s pretty okay with that.
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haikyuuhoo · 2 years
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6:24pm
“You owe me,” Suna hisses, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back over the threshold of his home, closing the front door behind him before you can step inside.
You blink up at him, eyes wide with shock. “I owe you coffee, not an evening of pretending to be your girlfriend to get your parents off your back!” you whisper back, trying to hide yourself with his body from anyone who might be looking through the living room window.
“Just a couple hours, please, I’m desperate,” he begs, not letting go of your wrist.
“Clearly, if you’re asking me.” You drag your free hand down your face with a groan. “I’m not even dressed for this. Why couldn’t you have just told me why you needed me to come over? Prepared me a little in advance?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Would you have come?”
You press your lips into a line, looking between him and the window where you can see shadows of his family members moving around the house. “Probably not.”
“Exactly.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like I don’t know you. C’mon, just a couple hours, and you get a free meal.”
The offer sounds appealing, especially with student loans and your low bank account balance in the back of your mind. “But I have to socialize. You know I hate that.”
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “So do I. Look, we already make a great fake couple.”
You grimace. “And what if your family hates me?”
“Well then you know you’ll never be called in to be my fake girlfriend again.”
“But I want them to like me as your friend!”
“And they will,” he assures you. “You just have to sit close to me and maybe let me put my arm around your shoulders. It’s not gonna be that hard, I swear.”
Before you have a chance to protest Suna is opening the door again and using his grip on your arm to pull you inside. You catch a glimpse of his sister, and she must see how flustered you are because her brows immediately shoot up and she looks up at her brother.
“I hope you weren’t kissing her out there.”
Suna laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, and you swear you see a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. “I wasn’t, promise.”
“Good, ‘cause Mom was asking for you to set the table, and she’s getting kinda impatient.”
Suna shoots you an apologetic glance, but leads you to the dining room and shows you where you’ll be sitting while he fetches the table settings.
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Dinner went about as well as could be expected, as far as fake-girlfriend-meets-the-parents goes. Since you had been friends throughout all four years of university, you two knew each other well and didn’t have to suffer through any of those stressful situations where you had to make up how you met and things you’d done together.
Suna’s father was quiet, observational, and you immediately knew that’s where Suna got his disposition from. If he hadn’t been there, you might have wondered how Suna was his mother’s son, what with how talkative she was.
“Oh, you two are so sweet together. Rintaro hasn’t had a girlfriend in ages, you know, and you—“
“Mom,” Suna groans, and his hand falls to your leg. The action makes you jump. He said an arm around the shoulders, didn’t he? Not a warm palm on your thigh. “She knows already, you don’t need to embarrass me by telling my girlfriend I’m bad with girls.”
“It’s only because you’re so quiet, Rinnie,” his sister chimes in, and you can’t help but smile at the nickname, though it makes Suna blush. “You think too much and I’m sure more girls would like you if you weren’t so—” she waves her hand “—deadpan.”
Suna frowns. “The only girl I want to like me is right here. And clearly she does.”
You can’t help the way your heart clenches at his declaration, though you know it’s just for the act.
His sister laughs. “I wonder what you see in him,” she says to you. “He’s so broody, isn’t he? What did he do to make you decide to give him a chance?”
Besides trick me into coming over here saying he needed my help picking out a shirt to wear for graduation? you think, looking up at him. You’d tried to convince him you could pick over FaceTime, but he insisted you needed to see in person. Clearly, you were gullible. “Well, I think I realized I liked him when he bought me coffee on campus when my school card ran out of money.” You try to fight off a smile at the reference to the debt you were in to him that landed you here in the first place.
But Suna doesn’t even try to hide his laugh, meeting your gaze and squeezing your leg. “Yeah, I’m pretty great, aren’t I?”
You roll your eyes, smacking his arm gently but then leaving your hand on his bicep. Just for show, of course. “Oh, don’t go letting your ego get so big.”
“And what about you, Rintaro?” his mother chimes in, and when you look at her you see her resting her chin on her hands. You remember him telling you what a romantic she was. “When did you decide you liked Y/N?”
He leans back and looks at the ceiling, like he’s thinking about it. “Probably freshman year, when she came in late to our sociology class and had to take the last seat next to me. We got stuck sitting by each other all year.”
You can’t place his grin, but your eyes are wide when you look back up at him. “That long ago? Why didn’t you tell me?” You sound breathless. The question is genuine, and you have to remind yourself this is an act. An easy answer. It’s easy for him to say the first day you met—it’s sweet and will placate his mother.
Suna shrugs and finally brings his arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I dunno, it didn’t really feel necessary. Besides, you know I like you, so why should it matter?”
“Oh, Rintaro, girls like that stuff.” His mother waves her hand at him and then stands up. “I should get these dishes going. Y/N, honey, I’m so glad you could come tonight.”
You nearly shoot out of your chair. “I’d love to help,” you offer, glad for an excuse to be out of Suna’s arms before he can feel how hot your body has gotten.
His mother smiles, and she shoots her son a glance that clearly says I like her.
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Once the dishes are done Suna walks you to the front door, his hand in yours, after explaining to his family that you couldn’t stay around to chat because you had plans with friends early the next morning and needed to get back home.
“I’m glad you could come,” Suna says as he opens the front door.
“Yeah, me too,” you say with a small smile, and though you’re not sure whether he’d said it to you as his fake girlfriend or as you, you find yourself meaning it.
His hand that was holding yours rises to your waist, and the world feels like it’s moving in slow motion. You’re suddenly so aware of the warmth of his palm through your shirt, of the way he’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, and before you can register what’s happening he’s leaning down and pressing his lips against yours—gently, deeply, in a way that’s somehow so exactly Suna.
When he pulls back you two look at each other for probably a few moments too long, breath fanning across each other’s cheeks, both of you clearly in shock. You step away from him, his hand on your body falling away easily and leaving you cold. You lean around his torso to call out a quick “thank you for having me!” into the house before you rush out the still open front door and to your car.
It takes all of your effort not to slam your car door shut as you lean back and close your eyes, trying desperately to catch your breath. Once you do you fish your phone out of your pocket, already preparing to type out a text to Suna along the lines of What the hell was that? or That was not part of our deal! But he beats you to it.
Your breath hitches in your throat as your phone lights up.
I think we should talk.
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oh, what’s this? my first fic in forever?? yes and it’s probably rusty and it’s unedited so sorry about that lol. did I write this while avoiding studying? maybe, shhhhhh.
anyway, i’ve missed writing for you all, i hope you enjoy <3
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kuroosimpurou · 1 year
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Sakusa x reader, suggestive language but no other warnings
Author’s Note: It’s my birthday today so this is part two of a couple of birthday scenarios I have that are mostly just self-indulgent fluff lol.
Contrary to popular (Atsumu’s) belief, Sakusa wasn’t completely heartless. He also was not a virgin, something else Atsumu constantly speculated on. Sakusa was just the type to separate work and life. 
He didn’t talk about his significant other because you belonged at home when he could relax, not in a sweaty locker room with his teammates. Why would he waste time talking about you when he could just go home to you? The same was said for home, he didn’t want to be asked about work he just wanted to relax. He had hard lines that had never crossed for the two years he’d been working for MSBY. 
Except now Atsumu had Hinata and Bokuto to help him drive Sakusa up the wall. The three had swarmed him now as soon as he walked into the gym.
“Why do you have all of next week off Omi?” Bokuto was the first to ask.
Sakusa’s face turned angrier than any of them had ever seen at the simple question. Sakusa did not want to be asked this because it was breaching into you territory. 
“You took the same week off last year, so what is it?” Atsumu pressed on while Hinata and Bokuto shied away at the murder in Omi’s eyes.
“It’s none of your business,” Sakusa grumbled and pushed past the three idiots.
“Leave Sakusa alone, his vacation time is his concern only so focus on practice,” Coach yelled to snap them into shape.
Atsumu cackled at that, “Omi on a vacation? Where to, the Artic where there are no people just penguins to bother him?” 
Sakusa ignored the remark. He wasn’t actually going on a vacation. He was just going to spend the whole week with you, doing whatever you wanted. It was how you two always celebrated your birthday for the past five years. You weren’t the type to want a fancy vacation, you two saved getaways for the summer weather. The first year you were together you’d told him all you wanted for your birthday was time with him, so he’d given you a whole week. Of course, gifts and nice dinners and fun activities were included as well. Now it was tradition. A tradition Sakusa before you would have found cheesy and unnecessary, but now nothing felt like enough to show you how much he loved you and the fact that you were born. Birthdays had never mattered to him but yours did because everything about you mattered to him. 
None of this was anything Atsumu needed to know.
“There’s no holidays this week so what is it? Do you go to a brothel and let out all the pent up steam you hold in for the rest of the year?” Atsumu joked. 
“I thought you said I gave off virgin energy,” Sakusa deadpanned, over this conversation.
Tomorrow his vacation started. After practice he was going to pick you up from your job. He’d wait outside his car for you to run out of the building just like you always did. He’d roll his eyes but open his arms and catch you as you jumped into his embrace. He’d mumble that you should be more professional outside of your place of work as you bombarded his face with kisses. You’d both know he never wanted you to stop. He couldn’t wait.
But for now he had to get through practice. 
Bokuto smiled at him, “Well I just hope you get to relax Omi. You’re always so tense!”
Sakusa nodded appreciatively at his teammate, still just wanting the topic of his time-off to be done with. If they found out what he was doing, they’d find out about you and then he’d have to deal with the annoyance of why he never said he had a partner before. 
Too late, Atsumu wasn’t about to let this go, “You need to get laid on this vacation, that’s what will make you less tense. Trust me.”
Atsumu of course wasn’t that big of a ladies man, being a giant sap himself. He wasn’t celibate either though. This he always tried to push onto Sakusa given that he was under the impression his teammate was single and just too socially awkward to talk to people.
But Sakusa talked to you, he’d even been the first to approach you. Against all odds, Sakusa was really flirty and forward with you. He was also most definitely not a virgin. This wasn’t something he felt the need to defend himself on though. Atsumu thinking he was a virgin with no game didn’t change his active and adventurous sex life with a partner he deeply cared about and trusted. How else would he be able to not rip the idiot’s bleached head off if he wasn’t getting off most nights (and sometimes mornings)?
Coach again yelled at Atsumu to get back to practice, and this time the setter surprisingly obliged since he realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of Kiyoomi. 
Practice went on as usual except for their lunch break. Sakusa normally ate in the bleachers with the rest of the team without engaging in conversation unless forced to. He’d learned early if he tried to eat in his car and talk on the phone with you, Atsumu would knock on his window and try to see what he was up to. 
But today you’d texted him that you were sent home early from work to start off your birthday week early. You were debating taking a taxi or the train home. Sakusa deflated a bit now that he wouldn’t get his usual picking you up kisses. 
Also he was never liked you taking public transit or taxis. It wasn’t safe. You in his car was best. He immediately stepped out to call you. 
“Hi baby! Let me guess, you don’t think I should take either because you picking me up is safest,” You teased immediately.
Sakusa blushed at you knowing him so well, “It is. Should I leave practice early? I could talk to Coach.”
“And tell him what? You have intense diarrhea? Or that you are a worry wart who needs to pick up their partner from work because you don’t trust public transport to get them home safely?”
“Maybe I just like picking you up because it means more time together?”
Sakusa never failed to make you speechless when he got sincere.
“What, no snide comment now?” He teased at your silence.
“I’m thinking of one give me a moment.”
He smiled at that, “Well it’s your birth week so take as long as you need and I am leaving early to come get you. Go the to that café next to your office and get yourself one of everything on my card to kick it off.”
“Kiyoomi,-”
It was his turn to know what you were going to say, “It’s not a big deal for me to leave practice for one day for you. I’d quit volleyball altogether for you.”
“Kiyo, I would never ask you to quit your passion. Plus you’re already taking a whole week off just for my birthday-”
“Celebrating you is more important than practice,” he interjected. 
He didn’t like when you acted like his job was more important than your relationship. He’d leave in the middle of a set if you needed him. You were more important than any game to him. Sure he kept work and home separate, but home always came first. 
“I would like if you came to get me. Do you want anything from the café?” You said softly, accepting his love. It was always hard for you to not push back when you felt he was doing too much, but it did make you feel loved. 
Sakusa smiled, “Just a black coffee. I’ll be there in twenty. I love you.”
Your sweet I love you too fell on deaf ears because in that moment Sakusa looked up from his phone to see his three teammates standing just outside the gym door. Oh fuck, how much did they hear?
“Omi has a girlfriend!” Hinata shrieked. 
Sakusa saw red. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He hadn’t planned to hide you forever. But he wanted to do it on his terms, wanted to keep it from getting out in the media, wanted to protect you. 
You’d come to games, but never sat in the team family suite. You preferred to sit in the stands, liking being actually closer to the court so you could see your boyfriend play. Sakusa loved being able to see you in the crowd so it was his preference too. 
But now he was going to have to kill his teammates quickly before he went and picked you up. Then onto your birthday celebration. 
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bokubear · 2 years
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Haikyuu!! — he has baby fever
❥ including ; ( timeskip! ) kiyoomi sakusa, osamu miya, akaashi keiji, daichi sawamura
❥ genre ; fluff, suggestive themes, mentions of pregnancy
❥ notes ; ahhh!! baby fever hits so hard in september :(
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Sakusa isn’t one to leave notes all over, or hint at it. At least.. not where you can see. You’ll most likely notice him taking a little bit longer to stare at the baby clothes, or perhaps the cribs. That’s until he finds a MSBY onesie with his number on it that he rushes to you—urgently shoving it in your face with unfiltered happiness. It was enough to make your heart stop beating from how cute he was. “Kiyoomi.. Do you want to be a dad?” You whisper, glancing at the nearly bouncing Sakusa as he shows you to onesie which makes him stop in his tracks. His face flushed, the familiar fiddle with his fingers appearing. “Maybe..” he mumbles, pulling his mask further up his face. You giggle, receiving a betrayed expression from the opposite. And out of pettiness, you take it upon yourself to bug him about all the way home. “Boy or girl?” — “Hush.”
Osamu keeps you from doing anything. and by that i mean he becomes convinced you are pregnant ( in other words, he treats you like royalty. before you’d despised it and his sly smile, but being a princess wasn’t as bad as you thought not like you weren’t always treated like that. “ah ah, no lifting that it’s not good on your back.” the grey haired twin tutted, prying the box from your hands. “i’m not pregnant ‘samu…” you whined, osamu responding with that exact sly smile. “not yet.” you practically hiss at him, despite this still letting him feed you onigiri’s. Except for the one instance where you find a fantastic way to get revenge. Slipping into your shared bedroom, you lean against the doorframe—watching the unnecessarily hot cook laying on the bed give you a curious glance. “Since you were talking about a baby and all.” You begin, the man’s eyes bulging. “Really-“‘Joking joking.” He pouts as you laugh at his disappointed face, not anticipating for him to pick you up and drag you to the bedroom instead. “C’mon baby!” — “Hey!”
Akaashi mentions having a baby whilst his heads stuck in a parenting book. You hadn’t paid any attention to what he was reading until he said, “What do you think about a little girl?” You cocked a brow, tilting your head to read the title as the pieces for together. “I’d hope she has your eyes.” You chuckled, soaking up the way the editor’s cheeks progressively grow redder. It all started there. Little, settle things. It was precious. More than that. Simple train rides where he points out the places he’d want take her. Cafes the both of you visit daily where he’d buy her a hot chocolate in the cold Tokyo winters. Utterly heart-shattering. And the best is while you’re laying in bed, hearing a loud sigh from your lover. “Keiji?” You whisper, voice leaking concern. “I don’t know how I’ll handle two of you. Two of my worlds. I think my heart may just fail me.” God, he’s adorable.
Daichi hit the baby fever rampage on a peculiar day where it seemed the world dropped unlimited hints. In easier words, as a policeman the first moment struck while helping an expecting woman cross the road to her significant other—and his eyes it was you. Stomach swollen with child. And it ruined him. But as if that wasn’t enough, there were tons of families. Young children walking hand in hand with their parents, perhaps even asking him innocent wonderings and things. The world most definitely had it out for him. Daichi threw his hat off the second he stepped through the door, enveloping you in his scent in his daily hug. “I don’t have much time. I want my baby with a baby.” He mumbled, head buried in your hair. “What was that Dai..?” You piqued, the man speaking louder this time. “‘Want my baby with a baby.” You giggled, his warm cheeks molding into your hands—comfortable. “..I think we can arrange that.”
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-maak
plagiarism, repost, and editing is prohibited
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demxnscous · 2 years
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wc: 0.3k
pairings: timeskip!sakusa x gn!reader
contains: suggestive content, brief teasing from reader, established relationship, gentle love, a desperate sakusa (sexually frustrated), he's a good boyfriend
warnings: minors dni
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Your hands hold his face, jostling him gently. "Big, bad, Sakusa," you coo, mocking. "So mean to everyone; your poor teammates."
He hums, letting you handle him like this, watching as you suppress a smile. Sakusa has you in his lap, leaning against the couch lazily in favor of simply listening to you speak. Practice had been difficult, tiring, his body in pain from the strenuous training.
You touch along his cheek, his temple, pushing aside a black curl. "I'm sorry today was hard."
Sakusa closes his eyes, the weight of you in his lap and how you move your palms along him is a lulling sensation. "Don't apologize, it's not your fault," he tells you quietly, taking your hand and squeezing it, pressing a kiss to the tips of your fingers.
It should be him apologizing, he thinks, for being unable to properly spend these moments with you for the past week. Because with an upcoming match, regimens for drills and workouts have become nothing short of rigorous. He would come home, help with dinner and dishes, before staying awake long enough to eat, then falling asleep on the couch.
Often times, you would wake him with a soft call of his name as you readied for bed, and Sakusa would take a shower, returning to you with partially wet hair.
He's also begun to find himself a bit sexually frustrated. It's why his thumbs brush at the dip of your waist, a subdued question traced into his features.
"You need to rest, Omi," you tell him, though your resolve has already given way to your lover. It's why he brings you closer, settling kisses beneath your jaw, along your throat.
The bends and coils of his hair move against your skin as he lowers his head to your shoulder, hands keeping tighter to you with each longing kiss. "We can rest after," he murmurs, a contentedness to his voice.
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omiomi-kyun · 4 months
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02:42 a.m. — daddy's day out
AKAASHI KEIJI is usually calm and collected. He always think three steps ahead and has several backup plans in case something goes wrong. Some would say he's stoic, almost emotionless—until he became a dad.
Although he's busy with several projects at hand, he never failed to pay attention to his family. He's a dedicated husband and a doting father to his son. To strengthen his bond with his child, he requested to have a dedicated day for them to bond.
However, during one of those days, something inevitable happened: your son's first vaccination.
It was an event you wanted to spend with them, but you were also stuck at your workplace where heaps of tasks awaits you.
“will he be fine? i've read several articles online and also asked some of my colleagues about their children's first vaccination, but i don't think it prepared me enough...”
the doctor and her assistant smiled as they prepare the materials they'll use for this session. the doctor explained the process and gave him an idea of what might happen afterwards.
keiji nodded his head while listening attentively to her response. his son, atsuki, has always been a calm child just like his dad—and sometimes, it makes you and akaashi worry about him.
“ah... i can't look...” he whispered while keeping atsuki's right arm from flailing around. “i'm so nervous...”
atsuki tried to turn his head towards the doctor, but her assistant was quick to keep his head in place.
“he'll be fine,” the doctor responded calmly while applying holding the syringe close to your son's arm. she insert the needle in his chubby arm while the assistant hands over a plaster towards the doctor.
the deafening silence was ended when atsuki began to wail. akaashi kissed the top of his head while soothing his back.
“it's okay...”
akaashi himself couldn't stop his own tears from falling after hearing him wail in pain. “it's for your own good, atsu-kun,” he whispered while peperring the top of your son's hair with featherlight kisses.
“one vaccine done.”
akaashi looked at the doctor, terrified. his slowly calming heart began to race. “there's more?!”
“it's the last one... today, at least.”
he was horrified.
needless to say, you both agreed to make time whenever your son's getting vaccinated. because neither of you has to go through all that alone.
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honeybunny-sawamura · 3 months
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Title: Under the Christmas Tree Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Fem! Reader Genre: Fluff (PG) Synopsis: Just a lil birthday fic for Daichi. Gets a lil heated but nothing too sexy. Domesticated fluffs Warnings: time skip, established relationship: married with children, holiday season: leaning more towards Christmas, intimacy, Word Count: 900+ Unbeta'd: hope it's alright OxO A/N: it's been FOREVERRRRRRRR since i wrote. but i can't be skipping my love's birthday. so here's something lovely and short for my favorite captain.
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“Oh? I didn’t realize there's one more present that needed to be unwrapped.”
Daichi’s chocolate brown eyes move away from the kaleidoscope of lights, tinsels, and pine needles to see you grinning down at him with eyebrows wiggling in a playful tease. His lips turn up to match yours in his own toothy grin and lifts a hand to beckon you with his forefinger.
“You’ll get to unwrap me a little later. For now, come join me under here,”
You don’t hesitate to lay under the tree with your husband; shimmying closer to him so you’re both shoulder to shoulder as you two admire the Christmas tree in a different perspective. Originally, it had been your idea: finding comfort in the prismatic view of the decorated pine after sprucing up the house for the holiday seasons. The sight was mesmerizing and it had Daichi finding you and your two sons cuddling under said tree. Soon, it just became a thing in the the Sawamura household: spending time laying around the tree, talking, giggling, wishing, and basking in the holiday magic.
“The boys are gonna be sad when we gotta get rid of it,” you say. You hear Daichi sigh next to you and you tilt your head so you can gently bump it with his.
“I know, but it’s already starting to lose it’s green color and without the presents, you can find so many needles that’s fallen,”
“Mmm, I’m pretty sure one’s poking my ear right now,”
You two stay silent for a while; just looking up into the tree and listening to the soft music that’s playing on the TV. It's comforting, matching the soft quietness of a snowy night. Daichi slips his hands into yours, intertwining fingers, and then brings it up to brush his lips to the back of your hand.
“Thank you, for the scarf you knit for me. It’s hard to tell that you’ve never done it before. I’m over the moon that you chose your first knitting project for my birthday,” He turns his head to look at you, lights making his eyes glitter and shine, and a smile that has your heart fluttering like when you had your very first date with him. You shake your head in modesty but you smile along with him.
“It’s got some loose sections and the volleyball looks wonky but that green has always been your color,”
“Honey, it’s perfect. I’m wearing it everyday until summer comes. And I thought you said dark blue was my color,”
“Dark blue and green. And Daichi please, you’ll get hot under it in the springtime… You’ll wear it to work too?”
“Of course! I want you to wrap it around me before I get out the door,” Daichi huffs earnestly that it makes you giggle. You turn on your side so you can face him and your husband mirrors you.
“I already put on your tie in the morning. Soon, you’re gonna be asking me to dress you!” you poke at him teasingly, no real heat to your words. You love being in charge of picking his tie and getting it on him. The intimacy it gives you just before he leaves you for the day was something you wouldn’t trade the world for. His loving stare, the rise and fall of his chest, his hands that are sometimes on your waist or tucking a strand of hair away from your face; it was a moment just for you and him.
Daichi’s chuckle breaks you from that sliver of daydreaming, warmth rising to your face when you see the way his eyes darken a little and he shuffles closer to you.
“You have no problem UNdressing me though, so what’s wrong with dressing me in the morning” he taunts then laughs when you squeak out his name. Daichi chortles out apologies as you mock-scold him about saying lewd things aloud with children in the house even though said kids were tucked away in bed for the night.
“Weren’t you the one saying you needed to unwrap me, hmm?” Daichi counters as he untangles his hand from yours so he can set it on your hip then have it follow the curve of your thigh. Sparks ignite in your core as you watch the way his pupils bloom to have his eyes go darker and you swear you can feel the heat your husband gives out get hotter. You place a hand on his chest to try and confirm this but you get distracted by the eager thumps of his heart. This time, his name comes out of you like a temptation. Daichi licks his lips and your eyes follow your tongue before you confess,
“I have another birthday present for you, honey. Though it’s best we have you unwrap it in the bedroom,”
You both get eager grins on your face and Daichi quickly steals a kiss from you that earns him an elated squeal from you. Just as he’s quick to kiss you, he’s quick to get up from under the Christmas tree and tug you up too. You feel giddy at his eager mood with butterflies dancing in your chest and tummy. Like naughty teenagers, you and Daichi hush giggles behind free hands while scurrying over to your shared bedroom. All lights are turned off except for those on the Christmas tree; winking and twinkling for a special birthday and the new year to come.
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Tagging some moots who I think would like this too: @tsumtsumland @vs-redemption @ceo-of-daichi @belladonnafleur @undersero @kingdaddydaichi @toonpai @vexx97
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chimielie · 5 months
Text
cw: a lot of discussion of suggestive / nsfw topics, no actual nsfw, nonsense
related to this but can be read standalone
Hajime thinks he’s getting the hang of this.
Yeah, you’re annoying, much touchier than usual, wearing clothing entirely unsuitable for early November, trying to get him to snap, but it’s been manageable. Only a couple of times he’s had to rip himself away from you before things went any further than he trusted himself to go.
He’s rediscovered the simple pleasure of making out like teenagers, keeping all your clothes on and varying your paces. Just spending hours breathing each other in and kissing slow.
He might even—might—add that there seems to be a kind of emotional benefit to this weird mandated sex break. It lets the both of you talk about your desires with literally no expectation and a lighthearted, joking air that eases Hajime’s intense inclinations exponentially. It’s not something that either of you would ever want to do any longer than you have to or even next year (you’ve been very clear that you see it as some sort of strange extended foreplay, on your end), but its been… better than he’d thought, in some ways.
In some ways it was still hell.
Still, as the days pass and he doesn’t die of blue balls, he starts to figure that this whole challenge might be really doable.
Hajime lies in bed with you, eyes half-shut as the both of you wind down for the evening with your new routine.
Your lips are soft against his, his left hand cupping the back of your neck, the other rubbing slow, light circles into your back. It’s gentle, sweet kissing, not the frantic and heated interaction of more carnal relations. It makes Hajime feel—
His fingertips are buzzing where they touch you, strings playing in his head, his head fuzzy with your scent. Content, like he could stay here forever.
You push yourself up on your elbows suddenly, smoothly, and settle your weight more heavily on his stomach, your knees squeezing his sides. Your pupils are dilated but your gaze is tender, and he can almost feel rose-colored glasses sliding over his face as he stares up at you.
“I’m in love with you,” you say, voice low and throaty from long minutes spent exploring his mouth slowly, excruciatingly so, like you hadn’t since the first months you’d been dating.
Hajime moans.
Loudly and unmistakably and completely involuntarily.
He sits up immediately, pitching you off of him as you collapse in a heap of giggles. His face is burning, he can feel it, but your laughter is surrounding him like a too-deep featherbed.
“I think,” you can hardly breathe, let alone speak through your mirth. He’d throttle you but that would only make things worse right now. “I think you just failed No Nut November.”
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