dragonslayer-5fanfiction

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

ハイキュー!! TOUCH THE DREAM Pictures from the official account of "Haikyu!!! TOUCH THE DREAM"

How sweet are they?

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

kyotani always rushes out of every practice and meeting, to the point it's hard to even get a word in with him. everything you try and catch him, he sidesteps the conversation.

finally you manage to block his way and lecture him about everything you need to. you can see him getting antsy, checking his watch and gritting his teeth, but you don't stop until he physically puts his hands up in defeat.

"I gotta go."

"Where are you going?"

"I gotta pick up my daughter from daycare."

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

TOBIO HAS VERY NICE LIPS AND HE WEARS LIPBALM THATS STICKY AND IT FEELS NICE WHEN HE KISSES U 😁😁😁

he saw you putting that lip balm on once and you asked him if he wanted some and he said yes so you gave him a little peck and laughed when his cheeks went all pink.

you bought him his own tube of it, and he's used it ever since, adding it to his daily regimen.

one day years later you're in public, and when you see him putting it on, you ask if you can have some too since you forgot your own at home. without missing a beat, tobio swoops in and lays the biggest smooch of all time on you (in broad daylight! in PUBLIC!) and has no idea why you're so flustered afterwards

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

Toothpaste

Kita Shinsuke x reader - 423 words

"What kind of toothpaste do you use?" Kita asks, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between you. You look up at him from your spot across his tiny kitchen table.

"What?" You aren't sure if you heard him properly. It's a strange thing to ask out of the blue, halfway through breakfast on a quiet Sunday morning.

"Which toothpaste do you usually buy?" He rephrases his question, and with a bemused smile, you tell him.

"Okay," He nods thoughtfully, "Good to know."

"Why did you want to know that all of a sudden?" You pick up your coffee mug. He has a collection of old, mis-matched mugs in his cupboard, and on the mornings you've spent here over the past few months, this one has become the one you always reach for.

"I'm going to buy some. If you'll be spending the night here more often, I want you to have the kind of toothpaste you like." Oh. You hide your smile behind the rim of the mug. A new toothbrush had already appeared in the cup next to his on the very first night you spent here, but this feels different somehow. It's such a small thing, but leave it to Kita to think of it.

"What about soap?" He goes on, "You prefer sweet scents, right?" Up to this point, you've just been using whatever is in the shower. You don't mind - it smells like him.

"Sure, I guess." You reach across the table, fingertips grazing his hand until he flips it palm up, wrapping his fingers around yours and brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

You should be used to his thoughtfulness by now, but it never ceases to surprise you. He keeps cream in his fridge, because he knows you take it with your coffee, even though he prefers his black. There's a blanket across the back of the sofa, because you always tend to get cold in the evenings when you're watching a movie. There's always a bag of your favorite chips in the cupboard and bottles of your favorite drink in the fridge. Right now, you're wearing the cozy, worn sweatshirt he'd pulled out of his dresser for you.

"You'd better be careful," You say lightly, "If you keep spoiling me like this, one day I might decide to never leave."

He tilts his head, fixing you with a soft, familiar smile. "Maybe that wouldn't be so bad," He says simply, leaning across the table and kissing you before you even have time to feel flustered.

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

Knowing from the beginning - Kageyama Tobio x Reader

for @whisperofwonder and anon for the Milestone Event Week 4

“You may now read your vows.”

Tobio blinks back at you in the silence. Only when you nudge him does he realize that he’s meant to do something.

“Oh,” he pats the pockets of his suit before pulling out a piece of paper that has seen better days. Muffled laughter rings out through the room but quiets when he clears his throat.

“I used to think of our relationship as the perfect game of Volleyball,” he starts, pausing awkwardly when a muffled “Not volleyball!” rings out.

You reach out to take his hand and squeeze it, determind to ignore all the people around you. Right now, Tobio’s the only one who matters.

“When everyone’s in the right position and the angle of the ball is perfect… Volleyball is easy. Carefree. Perfect. But you’ve made me realize that love is what makes all the other moments worthwhile. Like when I come home from training and I’m really really tired, but you are too, and cooking dinner is suddenly no longer a chore but something I can do for you and with you.”

He picks up speed, stumbles over a messily written word, and grounds himself again as he tries to name all the things he loves about you.

“I like being home with you, like being outside with you, love how you’re so much smarter than me, but just as socially awkward-” laughter rings out in the audience at that, “and that you’ve kept all my secrets so far, even when I couldn’t keep my own mouth shut. I love your humor and the way you laugh, and…”

Tobio takes a deep breath as he reaches the end of his little speech, the paper swaying in his shaking hand. “I love you for agreeing to marry me, even though I’m just me.”

You move in to kiss him, giggle against his lips when he immediately pulls you close, unable to keep the laughter from bubbling out when you’re informed that, in fact, the kisses should come after your own vows. 

Oh, but who has the patience?

-

“Hello everyone!” Shouyou’s standing on his chair to make himself visible to anyone, grinning from one ear to the other. 

“I’m Hinata Shouyou, the best man. I used to think I was Tobio’s best friend, but he informed me last week that his fiancé, now his wife, is his best friend and I’ve been downgraded to Number two.”

Laughter rings out. Shouyou’s always has a knack for pleasing the crowds.

“I don’t want to bore you with how these two met, since I know Tobio has been telling  his love story to everyone who’s not running away fast enough. As the best man and former best friend I feel that my duty lies elsewhere.” He pushes out his chest as he grins down at the two of you before pulling out his phone.

“The day Tobio met you, I got a flood of messages that I will happily read to you now.”

“Nooo,” Tobio whines next to you, burrying his head in his hands. 

Shouyou doesn’t let that stop him, just holds his mic near his phone’s speaker and presses play.

Tobio’s voice, sounding so much younger than you know him now, fills the room.

“Dumbass, why didn’t you pick up your phone? I need to tell you something!” Young-Tobio sounds urgent and excited. “I just met the girl I’m gonna marry someday. Pick up, damn it, I need to tell you everything.”

-

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[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

꩜ GONNA GET YA .ᐟ

GN!reader x Atsumu Christmas themed fluff/crack(?)

hello! short drabble to celebrate being free from finals (;｀･ω･)ﾉ

You do a double take as Atsumu walks through the door and hangs up his jacket. He whistles a random tune before greeting you, “I’m home!”

“Atsumu, what are you wearing?”

“Huh?” He turns to look at you. “A headband, duh.”

“...With a little something at the end?”

Your boyfriend tilts his head from side to side at your observation, the plastic mistletoe at the end of the branching pipe cleaner swaying with him.

You’re pretty sure it’s not supposed to be hanging quite as low as it is.

He shoots you a smile, a teasing lilt to his voice at the end, “Was the last one so it’s a little broken, but it’s for anybody who happens to walk up t’me.”

His face from your spot on the couch is mostly covered by his surprise, and you do your best to not laugh at what you think is him wiggling his eyebrows. Humming, you stand up. “So if I don’t stand in front of you... you don’t get a kiss?”

“What– babe.” Atsumu’s amusement turns into a gaping mouth and gasp. “Do you not want to kiss me?”

“Well, I didn’t say that.” You take a step toward him.

Then to the side of the couch.

He squints. “Are you walking away from me?”

Your foot hits the couch’s back leg and you start to pivot, a smile making its way onto your face. “No?”

“Yer walkin’ away from me!”

“No I’m not, what, hey, ’Tsumu—”

He drops his bag and starts targeting you, socked feet slipping as he rounds the couch with arms outstretched. “C’mere!”

“’Tsumu!”

All the while the mistletoe headband swishes and swings with each leap, and you snort as Atsumu almost runs into the coffee table. “’m gonna get ya even if I can’t see with this thing on!”

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

MEAN JACKALS

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

miya atsumu the man you are

sorry they couldnt wrap All That

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

I completely forgot I had a Tumblr account and I'm proud of this piece, so I'll post it here too, who knows, maybe it reaches more people!

🏐 ⚡ 🐦‍⬛

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

haikyuu ; the wing spikers

their reactions to if you had to go home

pairings: iwaizumi, tsukishima, hinata, osamu, ushijima, bokuto, suna, and asahi x fem!reader

i hope this isn’t too longgg i just wanted to make sure i got just abt everyone

tell me if i forget anybody or there’s someone else you want to see!

warnings: after-timeskip characters, i love ushijima yall

m.list

pretty setter edition

IWAIZUMI hops up with you when you get up and starts helping you look for your stuff. you'd been staying over for a few days, it might've been longer but the two of you stopped counting. you stayed so long to the point where he'd reserved a few drawers and hangers for your clothes making his apartment a place where you can live comfortably. his house became like a home away from home to you, just like he intended.

but you're confused as he starts following you towards the door and slipping his shoes on with you. last time you checked you were the one who didn't live here. "iwa? where are you going?" you ask but he just shrugs and grabs both of your coats and sidles next to you.

"what do you mean?" he holds your jacket open for you to slip your arms through. "i'm taking you back to your apartment," he explained as you turned towards him, helping you adjust the sleeves of your jacket.

you looked up at your boyfriend as if he'd grown another eye. "it's pretty late though," you then returned the gesture as you helped him put his coat on. while you straightened out the front of his jacket, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

"babe that's even more of a reason for me to take you," he chuckled, eyes practically glistening as he stared down at you. "there's no way i'm letting you take the subway alone this late at night," he told you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. seeing the looking on your face, he could tell you were readying your protest. so he beat you to it, "and it's fine, i want to drive you home, that's just more time together."

so without another word, you hopped into the passenger's seat of iwaizumi's car. your laughter, the music you played between your shared account, and your singing filled the interior. as he glanced over at you, a smile immediately plastered itself on your lips, proving iwaizumi's point that he couldn't be any happier than when he's with you. you bring a certain light to any situation that no one can replicate, he recently realized.

however, on the ride back it was quiet, just him and the playlist the two of you had created. the whole ride every song would remind him of you, and he could imagine you now, singing your heart out in the passenger seat. he could hear your coax as you desperately tried to get him to sing at least one line. but looking over at the passenger's side, he was met with the vacant space that was reserved for you only.

back at his apartment, it wasn't any better now that everything reminded him of you. he saw you at every crevice and every turn, it was starting to feel a little lonely and a bit empty without you around. you brought a certain light to his apartment that no lamp or ceiling light could replicate.

20 minutes into the silence, he was starting to think that maybe he should've convinced you to spend just one more night.

"what are you doing?" TSUKISHIMA asks, seeing you slowly gather your stuff together. you'd just been lounging about in his apartment, now watching some random movie on netflix with as you cuddled into his side.

well, you were until you suddenly got up and grabbed your bag and started shoving your stuff inside.

even though tsukishima would never admit it, he loved having you so close. you were so warm and cuddly that he couldn’t help but want to keep you around him, it was hard not to miss you. so feeling your body heat leave his side he immediately noticed and turned to look at you.

peering over your shoulder, you can already feel his hard stare on you before even making eye contact. without his glasses, he looked him even sharper looking than he is with them on.

"oh, it's just getting a little late tsuki," you stated as you gently put your bag down, your arms relaxing, "i don't want to overstay my welcome, you know?"

his eyebrow quirked up just hearing that. "overstay?" he repeated. you turned completely towards him before he shook his head and reached over, "what are you on about?" he grunted as he grabbed a hold of your hand and pulled you back into his arms, returning you to his side just as you were.

"just..." he looked down at you only to pause seeing the way you were ogling at him. just seeing your eyes sparkle, he could've sworn he felt his heart stop for a second. it didn't help that he found you to be the prettiest girl on the planet. and to think you were here and only had eyes for him, he felt like the luckiest guy alive.

looking away, he felt his cheeks warm up as blood rushed to his face. "stay for now..." he then muttered, "and stop looking at me like that."

your sweet, sweet giggles filled the air, knowing the way tsukishima gets embarrassed all too well. he can never fool you, even as he tried to look away you could still see the tips of his ears turning as red as apples. "stop looking at you like what?" you teased, laying your head on his chest, intertwining your fingers with the hand he had wrapped around your waist.

he didn't dare look at you, knowing you'd only tease him more. you were beating him at his own game like you always did, doing the exact thing that made him fall head over heels for you. "i don’t find you funny," he quipped in the most serious tone he could muster, but he's lying straight through his teeth.

HINATA watched on curiously, as you kissed his cheek and stood up from the couch the two of you had huddled together on. “huh?” he asked out loud, waiting for you to repeat what you had just said.

his eyes followed you as you walked to the kitchen, watching as you grabbed your keys from the counter, the jingle of them immediately catching his attention. that sound was way too familiar for him, and he had an idea of what was coming next.

"you’re going home?" he asked as he leant his head backwards over the head of the couch, his vision looking as though you were walking on the ceiling towards the bedroom. a few seconds passed by and you were walking out with your bag, eyes finding his. you were definitely leaving, and he could already feel his heart dropping.

as you approached him, you snorted, his silly posture tickling your heartstrings. placing your hands on either side of his face, you leant over to press a soft kiss onto his lips. "mhm, it’s about that time,” you confirmed his worst fears. as soon as the two of you parted he was quick to sit up, possibly giving himself whiplash but that seemed to never be the case with hinata.

“but why?” he asked, slightly making you jump at his sudden outburst of energy. “why are you leaving already? it feels like you just got here…” he scratched the back of his head, his eyebrows knitting together.

whenever he was with you, his internal clock slowed down so he could savor every moment with you. time passed by so excruciatingly slow, but he’d rather that than time to fly by. he noticed that he truly wanted to be present for every minute when he was near you, so of course he made sure to give you his utmost attention.

and he was quite well at what he did. he’s never made you feel like he wasn’t listening or like he was annoyed with your presence. in his eyes, you were like the sun and him the sunflower that made it a point to find the sun. “shoyo, i’ve been here all day!” you giggled those contagious girly giggles he was drinking up, his own smile growing onto his lips as well. throwing your arms over his shoulders from where you stood behind the couch, your laughter filled his ears. you just couldn’t help it, he was cute without even trying.

his muscular hand met your side, the other grabbing hold of your arm. “no, seriously! you really can’t stay?” he asked as he slightly laughed just hearing your bellows. his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your arm, hoping that this little bit would convince you.

his eyes gave you that same look he always gave you when you had to leave. eyebrows furrowed, brown eyes filled with sadness, and the tiny jut of his lips, you could read him like a book. “please? just one night?” he added, flashing a pleading smile your way.

just like you knew him, he knew you all too well. and you both knew that soon “one night” would turn into multiple.

you sighed, tilting your head to the side as you played with the orange hairs that fell at the back of his neck. “mmm…fine, just one more night,” you bit his bait, immediately noticing the victorious smile that curled itself onto his lips.

he pulled you in close and pressed a long kiss into your check, “alright! now come back over here! i’m starting to get cold,” he released you from his arms, watching giddily as you made your way around and back into his cuddles, right where you belonged.

OSAMU is confused when you start making moves to leave. you start talking about how late it is and how you have a class in the morning. but how could you even think about leaving when the both of you are so comfortable, snuggled up on his bed right now? he can be the one to take you to your classes too, problem solved.

but he sees you slowly moving away, and it's hurting his heart bit by bit. "babe, you're hurting my feelings right now, where are you going?" he asked, sneaky fingers inching closer to your waist.

you freeze, eyes finally meeting his. the look in them is unreadable, but you can tell by the tone of his voice he doesn't appreciate you scooting off the bed. "it's about time i start heading home, 'samu. i've been here all day," you answered, not even noticing the arm he snaked around your waist.

he shrugged, "yeah, but i don't mind," he quipped as he slowly pulled you back into his chest, "can't this be like your second home?" he cuddled back into you, hoping you wouldn't move away again. "your home away from home?" he suggested, with his arms wrapped securely around you, he nuzzled his face into your neck like he had before.

"do you really not mind?" you asked him, your voice echoing in his ears. he hummed back affirmatively, the sound of his deep voice vibrating against your neck, tickling your skin. you couldn't fight the smile that spread on your lips, "so if i moved in tomorrow you wouldn't be mad?" you asked again, making him hum confusedly.

"no? why would i be mad?" and just like that, he sent your heart straight to the clouds. he adjusted himself to where he hovered over your body with his arms holding him up. "i like it better when you're here, it looks and feels a lot brighter, ya' know?" his eyes bore into yours, the warmth yet serious glint in them sending butterflies bounding around your insides. "maybe it's about time you move in."

you reached for his cheeks, a smile on your lips as you guided him to your lips. "guess i'm staying permanently, hmm?" softly, you pressed your lips against each other, your smile spreading to his with one touch. his woody musk and the smell of his restaurant filled your nostrils, its delicious scent filling your nostrils and suddenly you craved his cooking. and of course, the only you could get that was by spending the night.

his hands roamed down, pulling your leg to wrap around his waist, the mere feeling of his touch sending a whirlwind of butterflies fluttering through your stomach. as your kisses began to get a bit more feverish, both your hands began to wander around each other, the familiarity of your bodies feeling like second nature to the two of you.

so softly, he murmured against your lips, “mhm, we can work the details out later, baby,” he kissed your chin this time, trailing his way down. “just for right now…stay, please.”

"i’d like it if you stayed," USHIJIMA suggested, turning his head to you. you sat with your body facing his, legs sitting over his lap as his big, strong hands massaged soothing circles over your calves. his massage only stopped when you’d mentioned heading back to your own apartment. “i like having you here,” he trailed a hand down from your knee to your ankle.

you blinked back, getting the exact answer you expected. you were merely testing the waters, considering this was the first time you’d stayed over for so long. “i’ve been here all day though, toshi,” you tilted your head to the side, eyes never once leaving his. so far the water was warm and inviting.

“doesn’t make me like it any less,” he shrugged back, directing his eyes to the pretty pair of legs sitting in his lap. “it’s fine, there’s no rule saying you can’t stay longer,” he grazed his gentle touch over your skin, the mere feeling of his calloused fingers gliding over you sent shivers up your spine. you loved how he expressed himself unapologetically. there was nothing but transparency between the two of you. no secrets, no lies, just transparent love.

ushijima wasn’t a man of many words, but when he felt strongly about something, he’d make it known. you always adored that about him. you could listen to him ramble about volleyball for hours, because the sparkle it brought to your lovers eyes was something worth witnessing.

he was much of the same, always giving you his undivided attention and respect when you’d open up to him. it’s only been a little bit over a year since the two of you started dating, but he could already see you being his last. just watching you smile and laugh as you recalled something from your day, he can imagine you moving through your shared home, glistening ring on your finger as you joined him on the couch just as you are now. he wanted to be the reason behind that smile, behind that melodious laugh that could be heard from far and wide.

you’re his first and last love, and ushijima’s sure of it.

“so you don’t mind if i stay the night?” you flashed that sweet smile he often dreamt about. just looking at you he was transported back to the first time he met you at one of his games. back then he just knew he needed to have you, and his gut hasn’t proven him wrong yet.

exhaling through his nose laughing, he hooked an arm underneath your legs and pulled you further down the couch. dipping you back onto the plush cushions beneath you, you caught a glimpse of the grin on his lips as he hovered over you. “i wouldn’t mind if you decided to stay a lifetime,” he pressed a kiss into your cheek, picking his legs up onto the couch as well. as he pressed more kisses into your skin, he basked in the sweet giggles that fell from your lips, your soft hands meeting his cheeks.

“toshi, stop that tickles!” you squealed the closer he got to the crook of your neck, the exact place you were ticklish. he knew that of course, kissing that spot on purpose just to hear you laugh.

he pressed just a few more kisses into your jaw and cheeks, before he was coming up to meet your eyes. your smile was contagious, as he leant into the touch you ghosted over his cheek, craving for more, “so you’re staying over?” he asked, one last time.

just by the look in your eyes, he had an idea what the answer would be. pulling him back down you murmured against his lips, “i’m staying for a lifetime,” you smiled before pressing further, capturing his lips with yours.

BOKUTO goes into extreme sulk mode, he's as dramatic as can be. he's helping you get your stuff together, just very...very...slowly. he's hoping that maybe the slower he goes the faster you'll forget and stay over for a few more hours. earlier you were showering him with kisses and endless affection, now you were talking about leaving him? what man would be okay with that? definitely not this one.

he can't function without waking up to your pretty face in the early mornings. who will he wait on in those late nights to come back to his arms? who will he try to make food for on those nights they want to have homemade food? and who will he have to hold him when he's feeling down? you were one of his life sources, he always feels so energized and content when he's in your presence.

"kou, for the last time, i'm not leaving you, i'm just leaving your apartment." you pressed your lips against his cheek, your hands holding either side of his face. here he was holding your waist against his slumped body, sunken shoulders conveying his distaste for the loss of your company. he mumbled something along the lines of that's basically the same thing, making you tut your lips at him. he looked down at you, those dejected eyes telling you just how much he wanted you to stay. "babe, you can facetime me when i get home, i'll call you as soon as i get back."

"i know, i know...just," he nodded, leaning into your soft touch. he was never this sulky whenever you left his apartment. of course there was the occasional whining here and there, but this was a full-blown emotional roller coaster. "not even for a few more hours?" he tilted his head into the palm of your hand, letting his gaze remain locked on yours. he'd never shy away from making eye contact with you you were just about the only thing he could stare at for hours on end.

his pretty girl, he's completely enamored by you he can't exist in a world without you, or better yet an apartment that doesn't have you in it. "not even, i have to go home and finish packing for my trip," you cooed, but for some reason that only made matters worse.

he'd almost let the fact that you'll be gone for a whole two weeks on your girl's trip to cancun slip from his mind. it was just the icing on the cake. why can't you just bring him along? he always argues that he wouldn't bother you at all unless you call for him. "ugh, that's two long weeks without you," he hugged you tighter, burying his face into your shoulder this time, relishing in the giggles that fell from your pretty lips. "i'm missing you already," he mumbled, as he nuzzled into your skin, feeling your soft touch along the base of his neck. the sound of your laugh lifted the weight off his shoulders just a little bit, but he still was torn over this.

even as you hop into your car and drive away, he's leaning on his doorframe, hoping you'll return home as soon as you can.

"why are you trying to leave?" SUNA demands in that monotone voice, his strong arms holding you tight against his chest. you squirmed all you could, giggling at how serious he was. he'd caught you red-handed as you tiptoed around his apartment discreetly gathering your things without notifying him first. he scooped you up so quick, keeping you in hug jail until you answered him.

it was all within good reason though. you knew exactly how he acted when you left his apartment. suddenly his clingy side would come out to play and you were back in his arms for another day or so. how could you say no to him? he was so pretty and his hazel eyes only melted that adamant facade you'd put up. suna rintarou was utterly irresistible in your eyes.

you weren't complaining though, because when you think about it, you like being at his apartment more than anywhere else. contrary to your joint friends' belief, his apartment was way more clean than they'd joked about. he kept it clean and tidy and always kept some of your clothes over so you'd have something to change into. but he did prefer you wear his clothes a lot more, saying they made you look cute.

"suna! let gooo, i promise i'll be back later!" you turned your head to look at him. as you lifted your hand to caress the left side of his face, he turned inwards so he could look at you. "we'll see each other on saturday," you giggled at the pout on his lips and the way his deadpan expression barely changed.

he shook his head, "it's tuesday, that's too far," he groaned before he unraveled his self from around you. instead, he ducked down and hooked an arm under your legs, supporting your back with his other arm as he hoisted you up into his arms. hearing your girly squeals and feeling you cling onto him for dear life, he snickered, "i got you," he mumbled, keeping you secure against his chest.

swiftly, he began walking back to the bedroom, ready to return to that comfy position the two of you were just in, all before you so rudely got up and left him. "rin, i'm still leaving." you smacked his shoulder, noticing he was doing all he could to ignore your pleas.

he gently let you down onto the soft sheets, before crashing next to you, pulling you back into his arms. his grip was firm, even as you tried to break free from his arms, he wasn't budging at all. softly, he pressed a kiss against your forehead, smiling at the way you relaxed, "shhh, let's just sleep for now."

but even after he dragged you back to the bed, you found a way to get home after all. he stood at the doorframe, pulling out all the stops to get you to stay but you weren’t budging.

finally you have him his goodbye kiss, and of course he was trying to use that as opening to pull you back inside (he failed). expect a lengthy facetime call of him listing all of the pros of moving in together, once you make it home.

"you're leaving?" ASAHI sleepily murmurs into your temple, his arms still draped around your frame. his big hands rested at the small of your back, and with his muscular arms hugging you close, you were basking in the warmth that emanated off of his core. and that only made it harder to move.

mumbling, you snuggled further into his chest as you snaked your arm up and around his shoulder, pulling yourself closer to him. "mhm...i gotta get home," the drowsy tone was still so prominent in your voice. your words held no real intention, because as long as asahi was the comfy, warm, grizzly bear that he is, you weren't moving a single inch.

after the day the two of you spent outside his apartment, this nap was much needed. he had taken you on quite the eventful date that lasted just about all day. first, you hit up your favorite breakfast place, then both of yours and his favorite clothing shops, he even bought you a few things and vice versa. on top of that he took you to a dine in movie theater. and again after that, of course he had to take you out to ice cream. the two of you came to the conclusion a few dates back that no date is complete without ice cream.

all that food and running around the city was definitely catching up to you both. it seemed as soon as you stepped foot in asahi's apartment, melatonin lingered in the air that had the two of you walking like zombies to his bed. he was quick to hoist you up into his arms, keeping you pressed up against his chest as the two of you dozed off.

"hm," he hummed, his soft yet deep voice echoing through your ears. "when are you leaving?" he asked, his sleepy voice sending butterflies throughout your body.

you hummed, trying to figure just when you were going to leave. but the more you sunk into the warmth that was practically radiating off of his body, there more you didn’t want to leave. you'd been at his place all day, so you felt like it was about time you started heading home. but these cuddles were well-needed and heavily persuading your previous choices.

prying your eyes open, you searched his sleepy expression, your own drowsy mind taking over as you slowly blinked up at him. his eyes were fully closed and his lips were slightly parted, to which you placed a sweet kiss to the corner of. "in...a little bit," you finished. but that was most definitely a lie.

as his lips curled into a bashful grin, you were snuggling back into your position. already, you could feel yourself drifting off to take yet another nap, wrapped up in his arms.

thank you for reading!! and please repost! if i missed anybody or there’s someone you want to see, let me know!!!

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

Welcome to the family - Kita Shinsuke x Reader

for @stellar-haikyuu for the Milestone Event Week 3

You’ve seen it coming for weeks now. 

Sure, you’ve invited your families over before, to watch those gorgeous fall sunsets over the rice fields together. 

But Yumie’s been weird lately, keeping secrets from you - or rather trying to. 

You corner Shinsuke the last weekend before, when he drops you off at the train station for another week in the city, another week without him.

“You know I’m going to say yes, right?”

He smiles, so warm it rivals the setting sun.

“I know.”

“So why are you making such a ruckus about it?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he promises, pulling you in for a kiss. “But you know Yumie.”

-

The day itself is gorgeous like you’ve ordered it that way.

The sun is warm and golden and everyone who arrives is in a good mood, even Kita’s parents, who, for once, don’t try to convince him of the benefits of a life in the city.

“I can understand, I suppose,” his mother tells you, “why you’d want to move here after all. It’s gorgeous in the fall.”

“Not just the fall,” you tell her, your eyes on nothing but Shinsuke. He’s glowing under their praise, deflecting every compliment that’s not about the farm itself. 

“So it’s settled then?” Your brother asks. “You’re moving here?”

“Can you at least wait until he pops the question?” You ask back, trying to sound annoyed. Aran should know Shinsuke, after all. And he should know you.

“I could,” he grins. “But I’d like to know your point on this. You know what waits for you when you move here, right?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Shinsuke. I can work from home, if needed and there’s work in the village nearby too if I want to change it. I’ve even befriended some girls there, too. I’m not going to be lonely.”

Aran’s face softens. “I was worried about that. I’m glad.”

“I’m an adult,” you tell him, punching his shoulder lightly. “But thanks nonetheless.”

-

When the sun starts its decline, the sky a beautiful artwork of pink, orange, and flaming red, Shinsuke pulls you aside. 

The voices around you turn quieter, but you don’t care to check if they’ve stopped talking or if it’s just your imagination, the world blurring around you when you focus on Shinsuke.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he tells you, his voice even, though his cheeks are slightly pink.

“Yes?”

He sinks down on one knee and opens up his hands, offering you an old ring in a battered box.

“Grandma Yumie asked me to take this ring,” he explains the age of it, “sine it has been in our family for generations. Would you make me the happiest man on earth and join this family by my side?”

Your smile is tearful and you nod, unable to speak. The ring slides onto your finger like it was always meant to end up there.

“And now kiss,” Yumie announces from your side with a cheeky smile. “Welcome to the family.”

-

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[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

Continue being with you - Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

for @act-nat-ural for the Milestone Event Week 3

The sun is burning down on you and the warm water is doing a poor job of cooling you down. But you suppose it’s not the water’s fault, nor can you fault the sun for overloading your system when your boyfriend is sitting right next to you, water lapping at his torso as he stares out at the horizon, frowning.

“Stop it,” you tell him softly. “You know that’s my favorite look on you.”

Kiyoomi turns, surprise on his face. “What?”

You giggle. “You look extra cute when you’re frowning.”

“Cute?” He raises an eyebrow, the moles on his forehead dancing with the motion. “You think I look cute when I’m frowning?”

“Yeah, like a pale version of the Grinch.”

“You’re feral.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss you. 

Yes, indeed, it’s not the sun’s fault that you’re running hot around him.

-

“I’ve been thinking,” Kiyoomi announces during Dinner, the twinkling stars reflected in the calm sea as you dine on seafood appetizers. His eyes are dark and mysterious in the dim candlelight and his pale skin hasn’t taken on much color since you’ve gotten here.

“Never a good idea,” you quip, giggling when he threatens you with his fish knife.

“I’ve been thinking,” he repeats again, his face softening as he takes you in. “I want to do this again.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “I quite like this place.”

“Not that, I mean…” He huffs. “Being with you. I want to continue being with you.”

“Oh,” you smile. “That’s sweet. I was a little worried we’d be at each other's throat by now, since you know, vacationing together really is a test to a relationship, but I like it too.”

“Wow,” Kiyoomi scoffs. “And here I thought I was a romantic by booking us this trip and all you did was test my relationship skills?”

“Honey, you disinfected my suitcase before I put it into your car, I think I deserve to test you a little.”

He pouts. “Those things are dirty!”

-

Rose petals cover the bathroom floor, float on the surface of the freshly drawn bath.

“Wow,” you gasp at the sight. “Did you order that?”

“Actually,” Kiyoomi points out, “I did that. I got the rose petals and the little candles, and I ordered the champagne and snacks for us.”

“You’re really thoughtful.”

“I thought you might like it,” he points out, helping you slip out of your dress and shoes. “I got something at the market for you too, let me get it for you.”

You slip into the bathtub in the meantime, relaxing in the warm water. 

“Give me your hand,” Kiyoomi asks, kneeling down next to the bathtub.

“I feel like a Queen,” you tell him, giggling slightly, “and you’re my knight in shining armor delivering something of importance to me.”

“Well, my Lady, you’re not far off.” Something cool slides onto your finger and you gasp, lift your hand to find the ring you’d been looking at today, longing to buy it, but unable to justify the price.

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” Kiyoomi smiles. “Can I-” He hesitates. “I should have asked before I slipped it on, but… will you marry me? Even if I disinfect your suitcase and force you to wash your hands more often than you’d normally do and frown at the horizon when the weather is nice?”

You look up at him, speechless and spellbound. You think back to your past conversations during this vacation and lean in to kiss him.

“Yes, I will marry you. I want to continue being with you too.”

-

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@emmyrosee for the Sakusa Lore

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

"oikawa being into space was just a headcanon" "oikawa liking aliens was so fanon" well space nerd oikawa is real to ME. he theorizes about aliens in my HEART.

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. literally one suggestive line and that's it. this is so short and lazy, and secretly just an excuse for me to share some space facts I learned recently. reader and oikawa talk about aliens. any astronomers or casual space enjoyers, feel free to either correct me or drop more cool space facts! haven't written for this guy in a while, I m*ss him ://

"did you know that earth chirps?"

you and oikawa are laying in bed together and staring at the ceiling after a long week, neither of you able to turn your minds off long enough to relax and let slumber take over.

you hear shuffling and assume he turned over to face you. "really?" he asks, clearly interested. "I thought sound couldn't travel in space?"

you make a noise of confirmation. "mhm. it doesn't travel, but everything still emits noise. it's just recorded through radio waves and stuff."

"and earth chirps?" you hear enthusiasm start to creep into his voice, his energy spreading to you as well. this often happens on sleepless nights with him- you either turn to... cardio or end up talking with him for hours until one of you falls asleep mid conversation.

and since it's a warm summer night in argentina, tonight will definitely only consist of the latter.

you forget for a moment that it's dark and he can't see you well when you nod. "well, that's how I would describe the sound. is that not the most mother nature-y thing you've ever heard?"

he props himself up on one arm and looks down at you. "okay, now you have to show me that video you saw."

and you do. once he's listened, you see his eyes glowing not only because of the screen, but out of excitement as well. "that's so cool!"

you nod again and sit up with him, smiling. "and I saw this other really cool video about other space sounds- two black holes merging sounds like a water droplet."

you show him that video too, and he shakes his head in amazement. "isn't space just so interesting?"

you toy with your phone for a bit. "I, um... since we can't sleep... I have a whole bunch of other facts-" you start, and just as you're wondering if it's stupid to ask him if he wants to continue the conversation or if you should just let it fizzle out naturally, he cuts you off.

"I want to hear them all, mi vida. you know I do."

you grin and settle in, telling him all about neptune's atmospheric layers, how it's mantle is made up of a water-ammonium ocean that hails diamonds at a certain depth. you mention that saturn has a hexagonal storm just above it's north pole, and that other storms appear on the planet every twenty to thirty years.

somehow you get onto the topic of aliens, something you've both already discussed in depth when you were first getting to know each other all those years ago, but with your new knowledge comes the development of new questions.

and oikawa listens to every last one of your late night rambles. partially because he is genuinely interested in the topic at hand... but mostly because he's an attentive and caring partner and loves hearing your thoughts on everything.

he adores the way your mind works and how you jump from theory to theory, cutting yourself off with a new thought as soon as you think of it. he admires the vibrancy in your tone, excitement bleeding into your words whenever he responds that slowly tapers off into sleepiness.

in the dark he watches your outline lower down onto your pillow and laughs to himself about how adorable you are.

at least one of you will be getting a good night's sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this is short and rushed bc something came up earlier, BUT AS PROMISED, HERE IT IS!!!

@dira333 :D

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

The Miracle of Childbirth (Oikawa x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Yours and Oikawa’s children were the most amazing creatures on Earth… except when they acted like munchkin-sized pain in the asses. 

A/N: Here’s a little imagine to celebrate 500 fUcKiNg followers, like holy shit!! Goddamn that’s amazing tysm :)))! (Also, it hasn’t actually happened yet, but I’m like two followers away so I’m gonna count it cuz I’ll be busy tomorrow.)  It’s more Oikawa shit bc he’s just a hot piece of flat ass, and I’m dying for more domestic stuff w him. I got it from this prompt by @otpdisaster​, so enjoy!

Word count: 880

Keep reading

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

hq boys with an s/o who sweats ✨excessively✨

KUROO TETSUROU, IWAIZUMI HAJIME, MIYA ATSUMU

A/N: perspiration lol. i am still questioning why i wrote this. well i know the reason. it’s because i sweat a ton BAHAHA one of these is literally inspired by something that happened to me irl. but yeah fluff and obviously sweat (back, hands, forehead). i cackled writing tsumu’s. also tried a new format to try and write less but idk how well that turned out asdjk

Keep reading

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

little white lies

summary: miya atsumu needs to find a date for his cousin’s wedding, or risk getting hounded by all his relatives prying into his business. unless said business is you—in which case, he’s all for it. maybe he can work up the courage to ask you out for real while he’s at it.

pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader genres: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers!au, fake dating!au, idiots to idiots in love, debatable attempts at comedy were made word count: 9.2k

⇢ warnings: profanity, one (1) scene where atsumu is shirtless

Miya Atsumu acknowledges the fact that he has made several stupid decisions throughout the course of his life. 

There was the time he decided that dipping waffles in hot sauce would make for a tasty food combination. (It did not, and he ended up lying in bed with a stomach ache for three days with a grumbling Osamu looking after him). Then there was that incident where he proudly claimed he could crush an entire watermelon with his bare hands. (He could not, and Suna had laughed his ass off when Aran easily demonstrated the same feat). 

And then, there was the time he tried to comfort you after you watched Hachiko Monogatari together. You’d been sniffling quietly, your eyes red and puffy, when he awkwardly handed you a tissue and said, “‘S okay. The dog’s probably acted in better movies.”  

You’d stared at him, horrified, before bursting into tears. Osamu had walked in just in time to witness you chuck a pillow at Atsumu’s head, calling him an emotionally inept moron; he’d laughed so hard, he dropped the tub of ice cream he was holding and got mint chocolate chip all over the carpet. Atsumu still cringes whenever he thinks of it.

Nothing much has changed in Atsumu’s life. He still has a massive crush on you, and he still makes stupid decisions.

What transpired in the Miya twins’ childhood home’s sitting room fifteen minutes ago is a testament to this tragic fact.

When the Miya brothers’ cousin, Shohei, called them up to invite them to his wedding taking place in two weeks, Atsumu and Osamu were nothing short of elated. Shohei video-called them, and for a good five minutes, all Atsumu did was scream incoherently when he announced that the wedding date had been fixed. Osamu promised to close Onigiri Miya on the Saturday two weeks hence, and Atsumu made a mental note to ask Meian if he could take the weekend off.

Shohei then turned the phone to their grandmother, sitting on her favourite armchair with the pink satin cushion, wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and sagging skin by her cheeks. Atsumu’s heart lifted at the sight of her—he was her favourite grandson, after all—and when she smiled at the twins, her lips were slightly puckered because she didn’t have her dentures in yet. 

But that wasn’t the important bit. It shouldn’t have been what Atsumu focused on most, as he opened his mouth to tease her. He should have been focusing on the knowing, youthful gleam in the Miya household’s matriarch’s eyes—a gleam that spelled trouble when she set her gaze straight at him.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Grandma Miya herself,” Atsumu drawled.

“Grandma Miya won’t be living for much longer,” she retorted, not one to be outdone by her own grandson.

Osamu had frowned. “Don’t say things like that, Grandma. It’s superstitious.”

Shohei had sighed dramatically, making a face at Osamu. “She does it all the time now. You should hear her go on and on. It’s good that you’re getting married, Shohei. This old woman won’t live for much longer, but at least I can see one of my grandsons getting married. Shame on the twins for making me live in suspense!” He said the last bit with an imitation of Grandma Miya’s toothless drawl, and it drew out a giggle from Atsumu and a swat on the shoulder to Shohei from the woman herself.

“Maybe I do have a girl in mind, Grandma,” Atsumu said on instinct, waggling his eyebrows. “I just haven’t told anyone yet.”

Grandma Miya’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Is she nice?”

“The best,” he had promised. “You’ll love her.”

Beside him, Osamu had gone very still. Even Shohei quietened down, letting Atsumu and their grandmother talk. In hindsight, Atsumu probably should have realised what a horrific blunder he was making, but he had a habit of letting his mouth run loose and this was one of those times.

Grandma Miya’s eyes had lit up. She had lifted the corners of her mouth into such a wide, hopeful smile, that Atsumu felt a twinge of guilt deep in his chest for lying to her. He couldn’t take back his words, however, because Grandma Miya excitedly clasped her fingers together and said, “You’ll bring her along to Shohei’s wedding, won’t you? She must meet the rest of the family. It’ll be nice for Sakura to meet her, too.”

Shohei nodded. Sakura was his future wife, a beautiful and kind lady who complemented Atsumu’s cousin perfectly. “Sakura would love to meet someone that’s going to be part of our family.”

Osamu didn’t say anything. When Atsumu looked at him, he had his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Uh—” he began.

“No hesitating,” Grandma Miya had said firmly. “Tell her to come along. It will be fun.”

Atsumu couldn’t deny that; events that took place within the Miya family were always fun. But he couldn’t exactly create a girlfriend out of nothing, could he? Belatedly, Atsumu felt the guilt and horror of his words seep into his brain. He flashed a panicked look at his brother, but Osamu only shook his head and didn’t say anything. 

He looked back into his phone screen, at his grandmother’s happy expression. If there was one thing Atsumu hated, it was letting down the people important to him.

Meekly, he nodded and forced a smile to his face. “Of course, Grandma. Don’t say I don’t do things for you.”

“Silly child,” said Grandma Miya affectionately, and that had been that.

Atsumu has since paced in front of the living room couch exactly eight times after Osamu pressed end on the call. He twirls in his spot, ready for his ninth walk around the living room. His brother sits on the sofa with one leg thrown up, watching him amusedly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Okay,” Osamu interjects. “Swearing isn’t gon’ help your situation.”

“What else can I do?” Atsumu wails pathetically, flopping onto the sofa next to his brother. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Glad to know you’re aware.”

“Samu, what do I do?” Atsumu leans his elbows on his knees and holds his hand in his hands. “‘m so screwed.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to get Grandma’s hopes up for nothin’.”

Atsumu huffs, annoyed at both himself and his brother for being so unhelpful. “I know that, asshole. I jus’ meant— What the fuck do I do about it now?”

Osamu pats his brother on the shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. “Tsumu, I can think of only one solution.”

“What?”

“You need to find yourself a girlfriend.”

Atsumu wrinkles his nose when you wave a bottle of some sort of bubbly, green-coloured concoction at his face. It looks disgusting even through the translucent plastic, and he has no doubt that it’ll taste twice as bad.

“Eugh. What’s that?”

“Wow. It’s so nice to see you too, Atsumu. I’ve only just flown back from halfway across the world after two weeks. No big deal at all,” you deadpan, staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m so happy you’re back, but what is that, and is it for me?”

Atsumu is glad you’re back—you’d gone overseas on your first ever business trip at the company you work at, and he’d missed your presence at the Tokyo apartment right next to his. He tries to verbalise it, but truthfully, his attention is solely fixed on the green muck you’re holding out to him.

“It is, actually,” you reply, shoving it into his waiting hands so he can scrutinise it better. You turn back and rummage through your open suitcase, pulling out an identical bottle—only this one is filled with something that looks like a cross between a squashed pumpkin and a gruesome shade of brown he doesn’t want to define. “And this one’s for Osamu. Can you give it to him the next time you go back to Hyogo?”

He lets out a sound of disgust, puffing out his cheeks and blowing a raspberry at you. “You couldn’t have gotten us somethin’ more… eatable?”

“Edible, Atsumu,” you correct, walking around the luggage strewn about your living room and plopping down on your sofa with a grunt. “This is what’s popular everywhere now. Apparently.”

“That doesn’t sound very optimistic,” he points out, sitting down next to you. Atsumu holds the drink bottle close to his face and squints at the ingredients printed on the back in a tiny font. “Is that… spinach?”

“Yeah.”

“And…” he continues, “kale? What’s a kale?”

“It’s some kind of leaf? Kinda like spinach,” you say, shrugging. 

“Oh, wonderful. This is a cocktail for cows.”

You huff out a soft laugh, shoulders shaking with the movement. Atsumu grins, pleased that he’s made you smile. 

“It’s supposed to be healthy, Tsumu. And you’re a professional volleyball player so I figured you’d drink stuff like this.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Atsumu shudders, but pockets the bottle anyway. It bulges out of the side of his cargo pants and he might look a little silly, but it’s really the thought that counts; the fact that you’d bought this drink with him in mind makes his heart rate spike. He nods at the muddy orange drink you left on the floor, meant for Osamu. “What’s in that one?”

“Carrot and squash, if I remember correctly.”

Atsumu gags. “Did’ya pick the worst flavours or somethin’? You say this is popular?”

You nod, a little embarrassed. “They were selling it everywhere I went!” you defend. “I just figured it was, like, the thing, or whatever.”

“If me and the team promoted this, it’d be sold out in no time,” he says thoughtfully. “Even if it tastes like a gourmet meal for goats.”

“So humble.” You roll your eyes, letting your head fall back on the couch cushion. 

Your airport clothes—a hoodie and jeans—stick uncomfortably to your skin after hours of being airborne, and you scratch your elbow. Atsumu thinks it must be annoying; you must be itching to peel off your clothes and take a warm shower.

But first, Miya Atsumu needs to ask you out.

He tries not to let the wording mess with his head. He’s doing this for his grandmother, and most certainly not because of the self-indulgent fantasies his mind conjures up for him when he’s asleep. Dreams of holding your hand, walking through the cherry blossoms together, kissing your cheek and taking in your delighted gasp—they haunt him even in his waking moments, and Atsumu aches to make them turn into a reality.

He acknowledges that he is a coward in some ways. This is one of them.

“Hey…” he begins, and then trails off, unsure.

“Hm?”

“That bottle of muck you got for Osamu—” Atsumu gulps, ignoring the hammering of his heart inside his chest. “Think he’d like it more if you gave it to him yourself.”

You sigh. “I would love to, Atsumu, but I don’t know when I’ll be going to Hyogo next. I don’t want that milkshake to stay rotting in my fridge for, like, six months.”

“Well… I’m goin’ there next Saturday. Wanna come with?”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon. It’s Shohei’s wedding. You can’t miss it. Grandma Miya specifically told me to tell you to get your ass down there.”

It’s a lie that slips easily through his teeth, but he’s not exactly wrong, is he? Just—bending the truth a little. Grandma Miya did tell him to bring his girlfriend with him, and if he thinks about it, you are his girl friend, aren’t you? With a space in between the two words, but that’s just semantics. Atsumu ignores the voice in the back of his mind that tells him he’s coming up with excuses that he used to think of when he was in elementary school. 

“I’ll think about it—”

“You have to,” Atsumu implores, briefly letting go of his pride in favour of convincing you to come with him to his hometown. “It’ll be a nice break. You can meet Samu and Shohei. Have fun at a wedding—you know how fun Miya weddings are. Get dressed up, dance around a bit. And Grandma would be ecstatic if you came.”

“Ecstatic…” you echo, an amused smile flickering on your face. “Did Osamu teach you that word?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. “But that’s not the point! The point is, I want your company for Shohei’s wedding.”

Atsumu waits for his words to sink in. He notices your sharp inhale when he emphasises on the fact that he wants you there. This one is the truth, and nothing but; there is no one else he would rather go to his cousin’s wedding with. 

For all the lies he’s spouted out this afternoon, some part of Miya Atsumu wants you to recognise that he’s not lying this time.

“So, please,” he continues quietly, “will you come with me to Shohei’s wedding?”

You look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. A moment later, you nod.

“...Fine. But you’re paying for the train tickets.”

Atsumu’s exhale is both relieved and anticipatory.

It takes exactly two hours and forty-six minutes to get to Hyogo from Tokyo by train. Atsumu purchases the tickets, partly because you’d asked him to, but mostly because of the steady feeling of guilt gnawing at his chest. He even purchases tickets for the first-class coach, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, even going so far as to give up the window seat for the aisle one.

“You’re being weirdly nice,” you note suspiciously, as he hefts your suitcase onto the rack above. 

Atsumu grunts with exertion, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He takes in the small bob of your throat at the sight with a gleeful sense of pride. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I’m always nice.”

Luggage secured successfully, he rubs the palms of his hands on his jeans and settles down into the seat next to you. The plush cushion is soft and velvety to the touch, a dark shade of blue that’s soothing to the eye. As he looks around, he can’t help but notice that the rest of the passengers consist of old people—senior citizens, with wobbly knees and wrinkled skin. Old and married, they must be on their way back to their hometown after visiting their children and grandchildren in Tokyo. As far as he can tell, you and Atsumu are the only two people here who don’t have a relationship beyond the platonic. There’s the occasional family of four: a tired husband, an even more tired wife, and two boisterous children. One child, no more than four years old, with her hair done up in two pigtails, points a chubby finger at him.

“Mama, look! That man looks like Pikachu!” she exclaims loudly.

You giggle at the chagrined look on Atsumu’s face, and his heart lifts slightly at the sound.

“Komi! Shhh. It’s rude to point at people.” Her mother pulls her hand down, giving Atsumu an apologetic bow of her head.

“She has a point, I guess,” you whisper to your friend, nudging his shoulder.

“The point being…?”

“You do look like Pikachu.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair, Tsumu.” You grin mischievously. “It’s yellow. You’re practically halfway to having electric powers.”

Atsumu flushes. He runs a hand through his dyed-blond hair self-consciously. “That bad, eh?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Your fans seem to like it.”

“And you?” he asks softly. “You’ve never told me what you think.”

You hum and look away, fiddling with your phone case. “If you like it, then I like it.”

“That’s not even an answer.” Still, Atsumu will admit that your reply makes him happy.

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s—”

“You both argue like Mama an’ Papa.”

Startled, you and Atsumu look in front of you. Komi pokes her head out from the seat in front of you, a wide grin on her lips. You stifle a laugh; it turns out Komi and her brother have occupied the seats in front of you and him. The tips of Atsumu’s ears turn crimson—whether with embarrassment at being caught bickering by a four-year-old, or at Komi’s previous comment about his hair, he isn’t sure.

“Hello, there,” you greet the small girl with a grin as wide as hers. “Komi, isn’t it?”

She nods, her pigtails rocking with the movement. “‘m Komi! An’ my brother is Kento!”

“It’s very nice to meet you both, Komi and Kento,” you say, solemnly holding out a hand for her to shake. Although you haven’t met her brother, you can hear his excited babbles from his location on his mother’s lap. “I’m ____, and this is my friend, Atsumu.”

“But you can call me Tsum,” Atsumu supplies, knowing it must be hard for the little one to pronounce his name properly.

Komi shakes your hand with the sort of vigour that one only has at the young age of four, and then glances expectantly at Atsumu. He holds out his hand as well, and the little girl grips it with all the strength she can muster. Her soft palm is sticky; once she releases it, he tries to discreetly rub his own palm on the seat in front of him, garnering a frown from you.

Slowly, the train begins to chug forward.

“Tsum and ____,” Komi says, “are you both like Mama an’ Papa?”

“Like… Mama and Papa?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“Yeah! Like, sleepin’ in the same room an’ givin’ each other kissies while cooking dinner!”

Atsumu gapes at the child. He feels his face heat up at the insinuation—if Komi thought his hair was like Pikachu earlier, then now she’d surely think his entire face was akin to Charmeleon, or something of that sort. Unable to answer, he glances at you.

Your face settles in an expression that he can only describe as pained amusement. Your lips twitch up, finding the whole situation funny, but you pick at your cuticles at the same time. A chuckle forces its way out of his mouth.

“That’s right, Komi,” Atsumu says. “Except we aren’t… married yet.”

The girl tilts her head, confused. “Wha’s that mean?”

“It means” —Atsumu pauses, just enough to notice the stupefied glower you give him— “that we haven’t promised each other what your Mama and Papa promised each other.”

“Oh!” Komi gasps, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She grips the seat with her tiny hands, clearly thrilled at his words. “Like a pinkie promise?”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Atsumu scolds himself yet again for letting his mouth run loose all the damn time. How is he supposed to break this poor, innocent girl’s heart by telling her that you and Atsumu aren’t married? Heck, you aren’t even dating, and he doesn’t even know if you want to get married to someone eventually. He wishes he could blabber about his feelings for you directly to you—but it appears that he is tongue-tied only around you, as well. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Regardless, he cannot take back his words now, which means he must plough on.

Ignoring your pointed glare, he nods. “Exactly. You’re very smart, aren’t you, Komi?”

“‘m the third in my class!” The girl beams proudly.

“Really?” Atsumu gasps. “I was only fifth!”

“From the bottom,” you interject, seemingly having finally found your voice.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just trying to make me look stupid.”

Komi giggles. “Papa says that’s a bad word.”

“And Papa is right.” Atsumu nods. “Idiot is also a bad word.”

“You’re so brilliant, Tsumu,” you mutter. “Teaching her bad words by saying they’re bad. Genius.”

“See, Komi, now what ____ did is something called sarchasm—”

You let out an odd noise, something in between an exasperated sigh and an amused giggle.

“...And now she’s laughin’ at me,” Atsumu finishes, staring at Komi and shaking his head ruefully. “Can’t believe I’m payin’ for this one’s train tickets.”

Komi’s curious gaze darts between you and Atsumu, a little confused but wholly entertained. “Stop, stop, stop!” She holds her palms out as though she’s a judge imparting all her four-years worth of knowledge to pass her verdict. “Both of you need to make a pinkie promise.”

You blink. “What for, Komi?”

“To always love each other. Forever an’ ever, until you both die!” she declares seriously.

Atsumu’s smile turns soft around the edges. Ah, the child-like innocence that vanishes so quickly. He doesn’t remember much of his own childhood—it’s mostly just a blur of juvenile volleyball and fistfights with Osamu and Aran, and playdates where you would come over with your mother and the three of you would romp around with the twins’ toy dinosaurs—but he hopes he had the same sort of faith in the world that little Komi so proudly presents to him. 

He turns to you, fingers already twitching with the urge to wrap his little finger around yours. “I think you have a point, Komi. Whaddya say?”

“I agree,” you say quietly, shifting slightly in your seat.

Atsumu gently takes your hand in his, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. Your skin is soft, a little bit clammy, but so is his. He swallows thickly, nervous for no reason at all, and says:

“____, I promise to love you forever and ever, until we both die.”

“I, um” —you inhale shakily— “I promise to do the same.”

He squeezes lightly and then lets go, letting his hand drop down to his lap. It was only a brief moment of contact—barely thirty seconds—but Atsumu’s finger twitches again; he aches to prolong the contact, to hold not just your finger but your entire palm, encase it within his hand’s confines, and never let you go.

“No, you didn’ do it properly!” Komi whines, her chubby fingers tightening around the headrest. 

The volleyball player’s gaze snaps back to his small friend’s face. Gruffly, still wary, he asks, “What did we do wrong, Komi?”

“Mama an’ Papa always make me an’ Kento kiss after we fight! You should do the same!”

“But we haven’t fought, Komi,” you try to gently persuade her from exacerbating your situation. 

It doesn’t work. Komi is adamant, as most children are, and Atsumu senses the beginning of a tantrum. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Komi and Kento’s parents napping in their seats, probably taking a well-deserved break from handling two kids. He doesn’t want to wake them up, all because he couldn’t satisfy their daughter’s harmless demands.

“All right, all right,” he says, flashing Komi a winning smile. “We’ll kiss to seal the deal, ‘kay?”

Next to him, he hears your sharp intake of breath. Atsumu’s heart thuds in his chest, a marching band of his own. The words just slipped out—as they always do. It is his fatal flaw.

Before he can turn towards you, he freezes. 

You kiss him on his cheek. 

You kissed him.

He can feel remnants of your lip balm on his skin, a slightly oily residue that he doesn’t bother wiping away. His brain feels like it’s a laptop with the Blue Screen Of Death causing it to cease all functions; blood rushes to his ears.

“There,” you tell Komi with an air of finality. “Pinkie promise made properly.”

The girl giggles and claps her hands, but he can tell she’s getting tired as well. With one last parting smile, she turns back around, presumably to nap for the one hour of travel left.

Atsumu’s cheek tingles at the spot where you kissed him. He resists the urge to brush his fingers against it, conscious of the fact that you might find it weird. Instead, he forces down the giddy smile that threatens to overcome his face and joins you in silently observing the countryside whip past him through the window.

Jealousy is an emotion Miya Atsumu grapples with rather frequently, and it’s no exception when he sees his brother tackle you into a hug as soon as he lays eyes upon you both.

Meanwhile, he’s left standing at the genkan, carrying both your bags and suitcases. Osamu doesn’t even spare him a look. Atsumu scowls; is this what their brotherly love has been reduced to?

“Don’ mind me,” he announces, toeing off his shoes and socks. “‘m just a luggage carrier.”

“Guest room’s all yours,” his brother says, arm still wrapped around your shoulder. 

You snicker at Atsumu’s disgruntled expression and he rolls his eyes. Hefting a bag on his shoulder, he smirks and shoots back, “Someone’s gotta be the useful one. Cookin’ isn’t gonna save your life.”

“Dinner’s on you, Tsumu,” Osamu calls out to his retreating back. “And then we’ll see who survives after eatin’ your food.”

Atsumu blanches, but he sees the amused tilt of your head and flashes a winning grin at you instead, trying to quell the envy that bubbles in his chest when he sees Osamu whisper something into your ear and you giggle. 

After depositing your bags in the guest room, Atsumu heads upstairs to put his own luggage away and wash up a little. He can hear the sounds of you and Osamu talking and laughing downstairs, taking the time to catch up on everything you’d missed in Hyogo district—about the twins’ mother and her little circle of friends, the news about when one of their neighbours threatened to cut down another person’s apple tree—and your delighted laugh sends a ripple of something warm down his spine. 

He knows he’s well and truly fucked when he thinks about how much he wishes he could be the one to draw those elated sounds out of your mouth.

Downstairs, you’re doubled over with laughter as Osamu regales you with the story of their Grandma Miya accidentally crashing the wrong knitting circle and not realising until three meetings in that they were discussing trashy romance webnovels instead of actually knitting. Atsumu lingers at the top of the stairs, listening to your guffaws. You snort, once, and it sends you and Osamu into peals of laughter again. His fingers curl around the bannister.

The volleyball player steels himself, plastering on a confident smile as he saunters down the stairs.

“Oi, what’s so funny?” he drawls. “Ya laughin’ without me now?”

“Just tellin’ her about Grandma’s new knitting club,” Osamu says. “She’s startin’ to think she can direct a romantic drama now.”

“I mean, she probably could,” you agree, smiling. “From what I know of her, your grandmother is a force.”

Atsumu scoffs, dropping into the armchair closest to you. He mutters, “A force that guilt-tripped me into bringin’ a date to the wedding.”

Osamu snickers. You tilt your head, curious. “A date for Shohei’s wedding?”

“Yeah. And if I show up without one, I’m doomed. Grandma’ll start parading me around to every eligible bachelorette she’s ever met—the neighbours, the cashier at the konbini I said looks cute, random strangers on the street.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe you’ll find someone perfect.”

Atsumu swallows down a groan. The last thing he needs is for you to think he’s taking his grandmother’s matchmaking seriously. “Nah, it’s a nightmare waiting to happen. Imagine Grandma introducin’ me to that one lady who brought natto salad to her friend’s birthday party.”

Osamu barks out a laugh. “Everyone ended up with really bad diarrhea that day,” he explains to you. “Guess Tsumu will hafta rely on me for cookin’ unless he wants bowel problems by the time he’s thirty.”

“As if,” Atsumu says quickly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Point is, I need someone to save me from this circus.”

“Hm, better start polishing your flirtin’ skills, Atsumu.” You give him a teasing smile.

His eyes lock with yours for a fraction of a second longer than he intends, and the words sit heavy on his tongue. You’re my date. I was thinkin’ of asking you. But his throat tightens; instead, he tosses a pillow at his twin brother to cover his nerves.

“You busy, Samu? Wanna be my date?” he jokes, deflecting easily.

Osamu catches the pillow without missing a beat, and then shudders. “Not a chance. The second they see me with you, they’ll think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Hasn’t he already?” you pipe up. 

Atsumu clutches his chest dramatically. “Even you, ____? Betrayed in my own home!”

“Technically, it’s Samu’s home.”

Osamu grins triumphantly. Atsumu sneers.

“Well, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “I’ll find someone. Real classy. Someone who’ll shut Grandma up for a whole year.”

His brother rolls his eyes. “Sure you will, Tsumu.”

You glance at Atsumu again, lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s something indecipherable in your eyes, the way your forehead is creased ever-so slightly. Before he can say anything, Osamu’s phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call, leaving the two of you alone.

“Who’s the lucky fake date?” you ask after a beat. You don’t meet his gaze.

He rubs the back of his neck, debating his next move. His heart pounds as he tries to muster some semblance of courage, but all he manages is a lopsided grin and a shrug.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll know when I see her.”

“We have a problem.”

“We do?” Atsumu has only just woken up. His brain is still struggling to catch up with the rest of him; he blinks once, twice, waiting for your statement to sink in. 

“Get up, loser,” you say, walking into his bedroom like you own the place. You flick his duvet off of his body. “We’re going shopping.”

Atsumu sits up, pressing his palms to his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The duvet slips further down.

“Fuck!” you yelp, immediately turning around. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t see anythin’.”

A shiver ripples through his body. Without the warmth of his blanket cocooning his body, the cold of the morning seeps into his skin. He’s trying to figure out why, exactly, he’s being presented with a marvellous view of your back, and what you’re apologising for, when the chill makes him shiver again.

Oh. He looks down at himself. 

Atsumu didn’t wear a shirt to bed.

His cheeks flood with heat, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment. “Er. I’m wearin’ pants,” he says, like that’s going to be of any help.

“I’m, um, going to leave,” you say. Your voice sounds stilted—likely due to being similarly embarrassed by Atsumu’s bare-chestedness. Atsumu grunts in agreement. You walk out slowly, gingerly tip-toeing over a discarded pair of sweatpants he left lying on the floor.

You shut the door behind you, face lowered, and exaggeratedly twist the doorknob until it lets out a click sound, as though you’re showing him that you have not seen anything indecent. As though his abs have personally offended you. Like you’re a National Geographic narrator documenting a rare, disgruntled creature in the wild. 

The shirtless Miya Atsumu, with its ruffled plumage and tragic morning breath, appears to challenge the peace of its habitat.

Ha. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.

To his credit, Atsumu gives himself five minutes before he flops onto his stomach and screams into his pillow. Then, he rises and rummages through his closet for a shirt—he settles for a grey one that he probably stole from Osamu’s closet during high school—and, still mortified, slips out of his bedroom and heads downstairs to see if breakfast is ready.

He finds his mother and you sitting side-by-side on cushions by the chabudai. It’s the usual motherly nonsense she always spouts whenever you come over—gushing over your job, asking about your parents, and, of course, wondering if you have a boyfriend yet.

“Not yet, Miya-san,” you reply politely, though Atsumu can tell you’re a little embarrassed. Your eyebrows furrow just slightly, and it’s always a tic you’ve had, Atsumu’s discovered.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” his mother says. “Beautiful girls like you should have boys tripping over their own two feet to date you.”

Atsumu is sure he’s tripped over his own two feet in front of you enough times by now for him to be able to date you. He clears his throat and puts a little swagger to his step when he sits down opposite you. “Missed me, Ma?”

“Slightly lesser than how much I missed ____,” she says.

“Just adopt her already, why don’t you?” Atsumu quips, rolling his eyes.

His mother actually seems to consider this, as she presses her lips together. “Marry one of the twins, ____. You know I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law.”

Your eyes widen, and you flounder, beseechingly locking eyes with Atsumu and begging him to help you out. He smiles a little. He remembers why he brought you here in the first place. His smile gets wiped out in an instant.

It’s not as though Miya Atsumu doesn’t want to spend time with you. He knows Shohei would love to have you at his wedding, and Hyogo is a beautiful place to be at this time of the year. But the thought that he needs you to be a scapegoat to appease Grandma Miya niggles at the back of his mind, unforgiving. He really should tell you, he thinks.

Thankfully, you’re saved from his mother’s matchmaking attempts by Osamu, who walks in balancing bowls of rice and miso soup. He sets them down on the table expertly—Onigiri Miya has trained him well—and plops down on a cushion next to his brother. 

“Sorry for bein’ late,” he says gruffly. “Forgot to add salt in the miso.”

It smells delicious. Atsumu has to admit that he’s missed his brother’s cooking. After surviving on a majority of meals that were either konbini snacks or cheap ramen in Tokyo, home-cooked food makes his stomach grumble in a good way.

The four of you chorus your gratitude for the meal with bowed heads and folded palms, and then dig in. Atsumu slurps up the miso soup, chewing on a piece of tofu. It’s heavenly—it really is, and he nudges his brother’s side with his elbow to convey it. Osamu nudges back, and the table is silent for some time.

“Oh, by the way,” his mother says, “we need to get your suits from the dry cleaners. I have to go help your aunt out with last-minute wedding preparations, so I need one of you to do it.”

“Not me,” Osamu says. “I’ve got a restaurant to run.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Osamu,” she continues, giving him a small smile. “That’s why I asked ____ to wake up Atsumu early today. Both of you still have the same build, so Atsumu can go to the tailor’s to see if it fits or if he needs any adjustments.”

“Oh,” says Atsumu. You don’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t know we had actual work to do today.”

“I also offered to buy ____ a dress, but she refused.” His mother casts a quick, affectionate glance at you. “So, Atsumu, I need you to buy her one, all right? Get her a gorgeous one.”

“O’course I will,” he says, quietly.

Osamu looks curiously between you both. “Didn’t ____ tell you all this when she came to wake you up, Tsumu?”

A wad of rice gets lodged in Atsumu’s throat. You accidentally inhale miso soup through your nose. Both of you cough and splutter.

Osamu frantically pats Atsumu’s back, while you, eyes watering, accept a glass of water from the twins’ mother. Something unfurls inside Atsumu’s chest at the thought of spending the whole day with you, getting his suit tailored and buying you a dress.  

It’s almost like you’re actually his date for his cousin’s wedding.

Is it weird that Miya Atsumu wants to see your reaction to him wearing a suit? Is he being presumptuous in the way he lifts his chin and puffs out his chest so that the tuxedo fits him better? What are your thoughts about men wearing tuxedos and ties, in general? Should he buy a tie that matches your dress?

This, and other such mysteries of life, are what the volleyball player ponders over in the tiny fitting room while one of the seamsters kneels in front of him and measures the length of his leg with measuring tape. 

Atsumu has to constantly remind himself that you don’t know he’s your date yet. The wedding is tomorrow. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to stick it out until then. 

“All done,” the seamster announces, getting back to his feet. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be able to alter this to the right size.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu mumbles, pulling back the curtain and heading outside. 

You’re sitting on one of the couches they’ve kept by the corner of the shop, scrolling through something on your phone. The bag with your new dress—his mother’s gift to you—is placed on the floor by your feet. He doesn’t know what the dress looks like; you’d insisted on buying it secretly because it was, apparently, embarrassing to go dress-shopping with a close friend who happens to be a well-built, devilishly handsome, popular, famous pro-volleyball player. 

Not that you said those words exactly, but Atsumu can fill in the blanks.

He plops down next to you, leaning back and circling his head to get rid of the cricks in his neck. You put your phone away and glance at him.

“Take a picture,” Atsumu says, not looking back at you. “Lasts longer.”

“If only your face actually looked good in photos.”

“My face looks excellent. Haven’t ya seen me and Bokuto in the Calpis advertisement?” It was a small gig they’d gotten right after the Olympics season. Kuroo had said it would make for good PR, and Atsumu and Bokuto jumped at the chance to have their small five minutes of fame. Shouyou had sulked about not being a part of it for two weeks straight afterwards.

“I have, actually,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know I wouldn’t ever miss out on that. I’m surprised no one here’s recognised you yet.”

“Livin’ under a rock, the whole lot of them,” Atsumu mutters.

You laugh softly. “The fame’s gone to your head, Atsumu. Don’t forget me when you and the team go gallivanting across the country.”

“You know I wouldn’t ever be able to forget you,” he says, after a beat. “You’re, like, a part of me now.”

You blink. “That’s kind of weird.”

Atsumu’s cheeks burn. How is it that he always, always fumbles so much in front of you? It’s like his brain sees you and immediately decides to unplug itself for maintenance. He gulps, thinking of ways to salvage whatever dignity he has left.

“‘S not weird,” he forces out. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I think you spent more time at our house durin’ elementary school than you did at your own.”

“Fair enough,” you acquiesce. Shifting slightly, you eye the bit of fabric from your dress that pokes out of the paper bag. “Still can’t believe your mom insisted on getting me a dress,” you murmur, lightly brushing your fingertips against the edge of the bag. “It’s a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?”

“She just likes you a lot,” he responds. “Honestly, I’m startin’ the think she likes you more than me or Osamu.”

“That’s not a very high bar.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no malice in the action. “But it’s probably ‘cause I didn’t dunk her favourite teapot into the toilet when I was seven.”

“That was an accident! And I apologised more than a hundred times!”

“Yeah, and I’m sure the apology totally made up for the fact that you made Osamu stick his hand down there and fish it out for you.”

“Why d’you always take his side?” Atsumu grumbles. “Can’t ever catch a break with both of you around, I swear.”

You lean back, shoulder brushing against his. Atsumu can feel your gaze roving over his face; he bites the inside of his cheek, feeling strangely self-conscious.

“Maybe,” you say, “I just enjoy making fun of you. You always make fun of me back. It’s nice.”

Atsumu swallows hard, trying to focus on anything else—the tacky wallpaper, the sound of pop music blaring from the shop next door. Anything but the way your words make his heart somersault, or the way your smile lingers for a second more than usual. 

“That’s cruel, yaknow,” he manages to say. “Gangin’ up on me all the time. Makes a guy feel unloved.”

You stay quiet, thoughtfully steepling your fingers under your chin. Atsumu glances at you from the corner of his eye. Your expression doesn’t betray anything, until you reach out and gently grasp his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “Didn’t realise you didn’t like it.”

Miya Atsumu is certain—not for the first time in his life—that he’s utterly doomed. It’s a little bit pathetic, really. It started back in middle school, and still, somehow, he’s unable to move on. You’ve consumed him. Your thumb brushes over the veins on his wrist; he wonders if you can feel his pulse racing.

“Don’t stop,” he says, because what else does a fool in love say?

“Atsumu, I—”

You’re interrupted by the seamster, who calls Atsumu over to the register to finish his billing. He grits his teeth. This is the worst sort of interruption ever. He turns to face you properly, because maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear the tailor, you’ll tell him what you were about to say. 

But your face is carefully blank, your lips pressed together. “Go on,” you tell him. “Don’t forget to collect Osamu’s tux, too.”

“Yeah, okay.” Atsumu nods once, twice. He gently extricates his hand from your grasp, as much as he dislikes it. “I’ll, uh, go do that, then.”

“Okay.”

Atsumu hates this. He’s not sure if he even wants to attend the wedding anymore. All his relatives are going to heckle him about his love life—and that’s fine, he can deal with them. He just doesn’t want his grandmother’s face to crumple with disappointment on finding out her grandson’s whole “relationship” was a farce. Feeling sick to his stomach, he pays for the alterations done to his and his brother’s outfits, and gestures for you to accompany him outside. 

You don’t meet his eyes the entire way back home.

It’s the eve of the wedding reception, and Miya Atsumu can’t find you anywhere.

The reception hall is lovely. Golden lanterns hang from the ceiling, enveloping everyone in a soft, warm glow. Vases of peonies and cherry blossoms, intertwined with sprigs of baby’s breath, are placed on top of the soft linen covering each table. The delicate strains of a koto and shamisen ensemble weave through the air. The centerpiece stage, framed by cascading fairy lights and flowing silk, bear the names of the bride and the groom, written in exquisite calligraphy. An array of traditional Japanese sweets and cups of sake are placed on a long table by the corner of the hall.

Shohei and Sakura sit by the shintaku, looking resplendent in their outfits, surrounded by family members and friends. He’s already congratulated them, clapping his cousin on the back and winking proudly at Sakura. You’re nowhere near them, so he tries the snack table instead.

Atsumu hides his mounting worry by shoving a piece of mochi into his mouth. He racks his brain, trying to think of other possible hideouts where he can find you. It’s not like you to disappear like this—and it’s a shame, really, because all he wants is to be by your side this evening. Osamu is posing for a group photo with his second cousins and his mother is helping his aunt with the gift bags, but you’re not anywhere near them either.

He knows you won’t be at the smoking area where his uncle has held court all evening, but he decides to check anyway. Atsumu gives the area a cursory glance, confirming that you’re not among them, before hastily walking out. He curses under his breath, his usual confidence giving way to an unfamiliar, gnawing unease.

You’re supposed to be here. You said you’d be here.

He adjusts the lapels of his tailored suit and forces himself to think rationally. You’re probably just outside, he tells himself, getting some air or hiding from the relentless matchmaking attempts of meddlesome aunts. It’s probably fine. It has to be.

Atsumu’s footsteps turn towards the garden doors. His urgency is masked by the cocky, practiced demeanour he wears like a second skin.

“Atsumu, boy, where d’you think you’re running off to now?”

The volleyball player freezes mid-step. He exhales slowly and drags a hand through his meticulously styled hair before turning around.

Grandma Miya stands by the hall’s entrance, wearing a lavender kimono that glows under the warm lights. Her lacquered cane gleams as she taps it softly against the polished floor. Despite her diminutive frame, his grandmother commands the space effortlessly. Sharp eyes—so like his own—pin him in place.

“‘M not runnin’ anywhere, Grandma,” Atsumu says, summoning a sheepish smile that he hopes will placate her. “Just, uh, checkin’ on something.”

Her eyebrows lift, arching in a way that shows she’s wholly unconvinced. “Checking on something or someone?”

Atsumu opens his mouth, an excuse perched on the tip of his tongue, but she raises a hand and continues before he can say anything. “Thought you ought to know—there’s a pretty girl standing outside in the garden cussin’ out your name like she’s auditioning for a sailor’s choir. Care to explain why?”

“Wait—outside?”

“So you do know her,” Grandma Miya states.

“Um. Yeah—I— She’s—” The grin he’s worn like armour falters under the Miya matriarch’s scrutinising gaze.

“Out with it, Tsumu,” she prompts, tapping her cane once on the floor. “Who is she?”

“She’s my… date,” Atsumu admits. The words tumble out awkwardly, and he can’t deny the way it sounds both weirdly foreign but strangely right at the same time. “For the wedding.”

His grandmother’s eyes narrow. “And why is she out there cursing you to Hell and back all alone in the cold?”

“I didn’t—” He stops, shoulders slumping. He knows there’s no point in lying—not to her. Grandma Miya has always been able to see right through him, as though his thoughts are scrawled across his face.

“She’s not really my date,” Atsumu mutters, gaze downcast. “I mean, she is, but she doesn’t… know that she is.”

Grandma Miya blinks, and then lets out a short huff of laughter. “Atsumu, are you tellin’ me you brought this poor girl here, told everyone she’s your date, but didn’t think to inform her of that little detail?”

“I didn’t forget,” Atsumu protests, though his words sound weak to his own ears. “I just didn’t have the chance to tell her.”

“Why would you go and do something so spectacularly foolish?”

He hesitates, avoiding her eyes. “‘Cause I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he says quietly, the admission dragging itself out of his throat.

His grandmother’s smile fades, and without it, her wrinkles look more and more pronounced. “Disappoint me?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu whispers. “You’re always askin’ me when I’m gonna bring someone home. You want to see me and Osamu get married, too, before you—” His voice catches. “Before. Um. I just wanted to make you happy, ‘s all.”

There’s a long pause, and when Grandma Miya speaks again, her voice is sadder than he expects. Classic Atsumu, he thinks bitterly. Always findin’ a way to mess things up for everyone.

“Atsumu, you daft boy,” his grandma says, “I don’t care if you bring someone or not. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Atsumu swallows, her words entering his chest and settling down with a warmth that wraps around his body. When he looks up, he finds her observing him not with judgement, but with quiet understanding.

“Are you happy?” she asks. 

Something about the way she says it is tinged with hope, and it makes his heart lift. The truth lodges in his throat, too big to swallow, too heavy to speak.

“I like her,” he blurts out finally. “A lot. But she doesn’t—she doesn’t know that either.”

Grandma Miya’s lips lift up in a grin—the same smile that passed on to his mother, and then to him and his brother. “Then go find her. Tell her the truth.”

“But what if—”

“No,” she says firmly. “Life’s too short for all that nonsense. If you care about her, you owe her the truth and an apology. Go on, now. Dinner’s starting soon.”

Atsumu nods, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small, grateful smile. She waves him off with her cane, before turning around and bellowing to Osamu to get her another cup of sake. He heads out to the garden.

The cool night air fills his lungs when he steps out of the ornate doors. He catches sight of you pacing near the koi pond; your movements are tight with frustration. The moonlight shimmers on the water, and dances across your face. The ends of your dress billow out because of the wind and Atsumu swears he forgets how to breathe.

It’s not until he climbs down the steps and comes to a standstill in front of you that you finally acknowledge Atsumu. Even then, it’s with flaring nostrils and flashing eyes, and he knows he’s fucked up really badly this time.

“Atsumu,” you say, voice taut. “What the Hell is going on?”

He winces. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain everything. He tries to speak, but no words come out, and all he can do is watch helplessly as you curl your fingers into your palm with anger.

“Why the fuck did you tell your entire family that I’m your girlfriend?” you snap, when it becomes apparent he isn’t going to say anything. “What did you think was going to happen?”

A dozen half-baked excuses fly over his head, but none of them feel right. Grandma Miya was right—he owes you the truth—but first, he needs to find a way to calm you down.

“Do you realise how messed up that is?” you continue. Your voice increases in pitch, garnering the attention of a few wedding-goers milling about. “You didn’t ask me. You didn’t tell me anything. Do you know how embarrassing it was to get bombarded by all your relatives asking me how long we’ve been dating? They think we’re something that we’re not—fuck it all, they think I’m something I’m not.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Atsumu pleads, finally having found his voice. “I just—”

“Just what?! Just thought it would be easier? Just wanted to impress your family?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. I just—shit, I dunno—I didn’t want my grandma to think I was screwing around. I didn’t want my relatives to look at me with pity ‘cause I can’t even stay in a decent relationship for longer than three weeks!”

Atsumu searches your face for something—some sort of reaction to his words. But you’re silent, and he can’t read your face. He can’t tell if you’re angry, hurt, both, or something else entirely, and it’s making him feel even more out of his depth.

“What were you thinking, Atsumu?” you ask softly. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, and he resists the urge to give in and kiss you silly.

“I wasn’t thinkin’,” he says, hoarsely. “I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I should have.”

You don’t say anything for a long while; Atsumu thinks he’s said too much. But then, you speak and the bite in your voice has reduced.

“You didn’t think about me. You didn’t think ‘bout how I’d feel being that person for you.” 

Your words ring hollow in his ears. The hurt in your voice makes his stomach twist with guilt. He wants to defend himself, but what could he possibly say? Instead, he looks at you quietly, hoping against all hope that somehow you will understand.

“Fuck,” Atsumu mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. He takes a tentative step forward, but you hold up a hand.

“You don’t—” Your voice trembles. “You don’t get to just walk over to me and give me some half-assed apology, Atsumu.”

Atsumu stops, letting silence blanket you both once more. He stares at you for a moment, at your beautiful face and your beautiful dress, and without thinking, he steps closer, his hand reaching out.

You don’t pull away—not immediately.

He’s close enough now that he can see his reflection in your eyes, the small tremor in your lips. Something inside him shifts, something urgent, something that makes his head spin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until it’s too late. 

He curls his hand around your waist and pulls you in, crashing your lips with his. He feels you stiffen at first—but then you kiss him back, hard and sharp, and everything in him unwinds.

It isn’t gentle or sweet. It isn’t tender, the way Atsumu had always imagined his first kiss with you would be like. It’s angry—you are angry at him, and he is angry at himself. 

It’s over far too quickly. Atsumu’s chest heaves with each breath he takes. You gawk at him, wide-eyed and breathless; a mirror to the expression on his own face, most likely. 

“I—” Atsumu starts, but the sentence gets lost somewhere in his brain when you take a step back.

“I’m not some… prop to your little charade, Atsumu,” you say. “So unless this means something to you—like it does for me—don’t do things you’ll regret.”

“I won’t,” Atsumu promises. His voice is gruff, his heartbeat a rapid staccato against his rib cage. “I could never. I like you too much for that.”

You look at him like he looked at you earlier—like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, like you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. It comes out as a whisper when you say, “What?”

“God, ____, I like you. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with myself when you’re around.” He owes you the truth, and so the truth is what you will get. He’s not very good with words—you know this, and he’s sure you will recognise this for what it is: he’s laying his heart bare for you to take and keep safely for him.

“Me too,” you say. “Me too, Atsumu. Me too.”

He kisses you again, gentle and tender and sweet, his hand placed on the curve of your neck and your hands clutching the front of his shirt. 

Osamu finds him and you later, curled into each other’s sides. Atsumu’s cheeks colour when his brother shoots him an impressed look.

“Finally,” he says. “Been waitin’ forever for this buffoon to get his head out of his ass and make a move.”

Atsumu doesn’t deny it, and you laugh softly. “Been waitin’ for him myself,” you say, squeezing his arm affectionately.

“Anyways,” says Osamu. “Grandma Miya’s lookin’ for Tsumu. She says she can’t wait to meet his new girlfriend.”

Atsumu’s mouth splits into a grin. “Tell her we’ll be right there,” he says.

[dragonslayer-5fanfiction]

HEELS — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: msby!kiyoomi, female reader, established relationship, fluff, kiyoomi carries reader. word count: 0,4k.

note: more boyfriend kiyoomi because i love him.

“I told you.” Kiyoomi said, his tone laced with amused exasperation as he adjusted his grip, carrying you effortlessly toward the car.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “You can’t say I didn’t look stunning.” You reached up and lightly tapped his cheek, your playful tone softening his mock annoyance.

Tonight was a gala dinner hosted by the V League, which you saw as the perfect night to wear your new heels that were waiting for their moment to shine. It must be said that you completely ignored your boyfriend when he told you to be sure to bring a spare pair of shoes, since he didn’t think you would last long in those heels since you would have to be on your feet for so long. 

“You still look stunning.” He replied, mimicking your gesture by gently patting his fingers against your leg. “As stunning as you would’ve looked even with crocs.”

You cringed at the mental image. “Crocs with this dress? I don’t think so.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m serious this time. This is the last time I’m carrying you.”

“You always say that.”

“And you always conveniently ‘forget’ to bring spare shoes.”

“Maybe I just like being carried.” You said with a smirk, resting your head against his shoulder.

Kiyoomi glanced down at you, his grin widening. “You know, I’m starting to think you wear those heels on purpose. Just for this.”

“I made it that obvious?”

“Kinda.” He admitted, his voice warm and teasing.

“Well—” You said with mock seriousness. “If you’re really done carrying me, I guess I’ll have to start packing flats in my bag.”

“Let’s be honest—” He said, his smirk turning into a full smile. “You know I’ll carry you to the car every time, no matter what.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “True. It’s a good system we’ve got here.”

Kiyoomi laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Yeah, a system where you get spoiled and I get stuck as the chauffeur-slash-pack mule.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” You teased, brushing your lips against his jaw in a fleeting kiss.

“I better have a reward when we get home.” He whispered with his lips against your cheek in an undeniably flirtatious tone. 

“I already have a few ideas.” 

“Fine.” He murmured, his steps slowing as you reached the car. “But next time, I’m picking the shoes. Deal?”

“Deal.” You said with a laugh, though you couldn’t help but add, “Just don’t even think about crocs.”

“Too bad.” He teased as he set you down gently. “They’re already in my cart.”